Originally published as a Facebook Note May 2nd, 2009
I hate fasting.
I've never seen the usefulness of it. I remember a guy I knew a long time ago once telling me that he had tried to fast only to be reminded by his stomach that it was time to eat, and it got to the point, as he described it, that his hunger drowned out any spiritual thoughts or motives to the point where he just gave up and ate something so that he could clear his mind.
My experiences with fasting have generally been similar. I've tried fasting before. I actually went a whole week without eating anything. I wanted it to be for spiritual reasons, but in reality it was more to see whether or not I could do it. I did, and then promptly got diarrhea with the first meal I had after the week was up. In spite of my protestations to the contrary, the reality was that the only benefit it brought me was a bit of weight loss; hardly spiritual in nature.
In many ways, I've been on forced fasts this past week. I've been eating less than I usually do, by necessity, I've been getting less sleep than I probably need, I've not had any real alone time for four days, and there are other little assaults on my physical comfort as well that just... prick, a little here, and a little there. In short, I've been miserable. And the cherry on top of this cake is that I seem to be coming down with the flu as well (never mind the asthma and chest congestion I'm still fighting from months ago).
Yesterday or the day before, I think it was the day before, the conversation between God and Satan came to my mind from the book of Job. In it, Satan has pretty much ruined Job's life and destroyed everything he loves and holds dear, and Job's still praising God. So, Satan says this, "Skin for skin! A man will give up everything he has to save his life. But reach out and take away his health, and he will surely curse you to your face!" Truth is, while I don't recall Job ever cursing God to His face, he did get a lot more whiny after that and asking for explanations.
We don't like to admit it, at least I don't, but Satan's analysis of the human response was, in most cases, spot on. No one ever accused Satan of being an idiot, or unobservant; psychotic perhaps, but definitely not an idiot. We seem to be willing to part with quite a bit, but when it touches our physical comfort, that's when things really get personal.
I think that's the biggest lesson for me in all of this. Does my physical comfort and well being dictate the terms of my relationship with God? I've written before about having to die in order to be resurrected, ironically, the body always seems to be the last thing in which I--and probably not just me--am willing to commit to the cross. I always use the excuse of needing a clear head, and not wanting to be distracted from communion with the Lord by being hungry, or having some unfulfilled physical need or urge. It makes sense to me in the moment.
The truth is that all too often I am ruled, not by the spirit, but by my stomach, and like the proverbial "momma", when it ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. And this is also the place where it seems unclean things like to attack the hardest, because they know it's a sure fire weak point.
The truth is that you can't serve two masters, and often we try. The body has it's needs, and they must be cared for, but, as one Buddhist author whom I respect highly puts it, the body is like an injury or a wound. You must care for it very carefully, all the while treating it and helping it to heal. One doesn't indulge an injury or a wound in order to make it worse, but you do baby it just a little in order to help it get better. The truth is, you can't serve both God and your physical appetites. Either they become subject to the death of the cross, or they master you. There isn't any middle ground here.
I don't like this. I think it sucks, and I whine and complain just like Job when my body gets touched in any way. Thing is though, Jesus didn't, and He didn't use my excuses about needing a clear head to face temptation either. In fact, He refused to turn stones to bread when He hadn't eaten for forty days. Most people who reach that point are generally either delirious with hunger, or just plain dead. He went up against Satan himself in that state.
He didn't use those excuses when the crowds wouldn't give Him and His students any alone time either. His students asked Him, almost literally in the Greek, to blow them off and give Himself a break. He refused and ministered to them until each one of the thousands who came to Him was healed, and only then did He let them go. Today, I think He would be recommended to counseling for avoiding burnout.
And then there's the cross itself. Vicious scourgings, massive blood loss, total physical and emotional humiliation, and finally death, after having massive railroad size spikes driven through the nerves of his feet and wrists.
In many respects, Jesus fasted physically every day of His life even when He was eating and drinking. He didn't let His bodily appetites, though He had them like everyone else, control Him or what He did, and I am sure there are times when His body screamed at Him and made Him dizzy enough to collapse. But His body was made subject to His cross long before he was nailed to it, like every other aspect of His life.
I don't like fasting, but then I'm sure He didn't either. I'm fairly certain the cross was no fun at all. I write a lot here about submitting to death and letting everything go, and my physical appetites and being needs to be a part of that, and because it's so intrinsically tied to my self it becomes that much harder to let go of, especially when it's little things that keep gnawing at you. But He did it. And, He asks us to pick up our crosses and follow Him. Man, this is going to hurt... I'm fairly certain somewhere along the way, He said the same thing to Himself, and then kept walking towards Golgotha.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
A Ramble about Personal Demons
Originally published as a Facebook Note April 27th, 2009
Truth is, I'm not quite sure as to how to start this Ramble. I know where I want to go with it, but I'm not sure how to begin the journey.
I recently went through a process of healing from my own personal demons. Some of them figurative, and some of them perhaps literal depending on how you look at it. These demons have haunted me for years. They were demons of rejection, demons of autism, demons of needing attention, demons of striving to prove myself and defend myself to anyone and everyone else, and demons of failure.
I am learning in the afterglow of this healing, however, that these demons do not give up, ever. If they are literal, then they have been around for millennia, and are easily capable of outlasting me and wearing me down. They don't seem to ever get tired and just give up. They hammer and hammer and hammer away. Sometimes they let up, and then when I least expect it they attack again.
It has been in the last few days that I realized, freedom from such demons has nothing to do with a once and for all triumph where they go sulking away in defeat never to return. That would be great. But instead, it has to do with how I respond, or don't respond to their attacks from this point onward.
These demons don't attack my strong points. Like any competent tactician, they attack my weakest points, those in which I have already been hurt or compromised in some way. They whisper little lies into my ears knowing that somewhere within a part of me might be willing to believe them. They work tirelessly to get me to agree with them, and then once they have that staging point, they continue their assault further in.
One of my favorite movies is "Little Buddha". In this movie there is a scene which depicts the temptations of the Buddha by Mara (similar to the temptations of Christ in the desert by the Devil). The one image which stands out to me in this scene is where Mara assaults the Buddha with hundreds if not thousands of archers, and they all shoot flaming arrows at the Buddha as he sits serenely under a tree. As the arrows fall, they become flowers and blossoms and fall harmlessly around him.
Being delivered from my personal demons, I realized, doesn't mean they never attack me again, it means their attacks are never able to harm me again. It means that there are no more places for me to agree with them in, there are no more weak or compromised areas for them to assault, and so like the scene above, they can shoot all the flaming arrows they want, but they will only fall harmlessly like soft flower petals, much to their frustration.
Most of their temptations has to do with them trying to get me to react according to my experience, biology, or past history. For example, if I have a past history of being or feeling rejected by people, then they want to use that rejection to influence my present situation and get me to respond according to that rejection. This then can translate into anger, or bitterness against those people who rejected me in the past and I can spend my time dwelling there in my mind. It can also translate into mistrust for people's motives in the present, and absolute despair for the future, or a constant striving so that somehow things will be better in the future and "I'll show them."
It doesn't help to deny that I have this weakness either, in fact it makes it that much worse as I try to deal with them on my own. Denying that I have a problem only serves to provide another compromised area for them to renew their assault, and then I'm fighting, unsuccessfully on two different fronts. It only gets worse from there.
It really gets bad when I do try to deal with it on my own, without the prayer, support, and intercession of friends and family, whether or not I recognize that I am weak or compromised. It is like a favorite story of mine from Star Trek, which I shamelessly plagerize. It goes like this, a great windstorm was approaching the walls of a city. They rang the storm bell and hurried everyone into the safety of the walls. All went in except one, a warrior who was renowned for his courage in battle. The ruler of the city tried to convince him to take refuge in the city, but he would not. He said that he would stand outside the walls and make the wind fear him. The ruler gave up, honored his request, and went inside. The next morning, after the storm had passed they found that warriors body smashed against the city gates. The moral of the story, "the wind doesn't fear a fool."
Our personal demons attack and prey on our fears, our hopes, and our attachments. We become attached to our anger, our bitterness, or mistrust. They seem like familiar tools and friends who have gotten us through tough times before, but in truth they were the kind of friends who would show you a good time and then leave you battered and bleeding in an alley. We become attached to our possessions, our loved ones, our self image, and all the while we try desperately to maintain the lie that we will never lose them, when in fact we will eventually have to lose all of them. This is the nature of mortality, temporality, and impermanence. We become attached to our lives, fighting valiantly to stave off death for as long as possible, all the while refusing to see the truth that death is the only way to resurrection.
Death is in fact what our personal demons fear most. They fear us dying to our self image, dying to our possessions, dying to our anger and bitterness, dying to our refusal to accept change. They fear especially the death of the Cross. They fear especially what it means. They can't attack a corpse and expect it to respond favorably to them. It is this death which turns flaming arrows into flower blossoms. and it is a belief and trust in and experience of God's love and care for us, at least for me, that fuels that death. It is our faith in and acceptance of our death with Christ on His Cross that shields us from these attacks and renders them harmless. And it is precisely the experience of this death that allows us to experience Him; allows us to enter the Kingdom of Heaven and possess His Eternal Life here and now. It is like taking the red pill and finally being able to see the world as it truly is.
The attacks will persist. I've accepted that now. Their efficacy depends largely on my continuous acceptance of my death with Him, and His love and acceptance of me. They know this. They fear it, and over the last few days, I feel like their attacks have been stepped up, and have blind sided me a few times now, right in those places, at first, where I professed healing. By the grace of God, I recovered and He saw me through it, not allowing me to be blinded again. And I am learning through these stepped up attacks that the best place for me during them is to take refuge in Him, and in the prayers and intercessions of family and friends, seen and unseen, and not risk fighting them on my own at all, which is what they want. It's a tough lesson to learn, but in the end it is they who will be frustrated, upset, and alone as they realize they are beating on a dead corpse.
Truth is, I'm not quite sure as to how to start this Ramble. I know where I want to go with it, but I'm not sure how to begin the journey.
I recently went through a process of healing from my own personal demons. Some of them figurative, and some of them perhaps literal depending on how you look at it. These demons have haunted me for years. They were demons of rejection, demons of autism, demons of needing attention, demons of striving to prove myself and defend myself to anyone and everyone else, and demons of failure.
I am learning in the afterglow of this healing, however, that these demons do not give up, ever. If they are literal, then they have been around for millennia, and are easily capable of outlasting me and wearing me down. They don't seem to ever get tired and just give up. They hammer and hammer and hammer away. Sometimes they let up, and then when I least expect it they attack again.
It has been in the last few days that I realized, freedom from such demons has nothing to do with a once and for all triumph where they go sulking away in defeat never to return. That would be great. But instead, it has to do with how I respond, or don't respond to their attacks from this point onward.
These demons don't attack my strong points. Like any competent tactician, they attack my weakest points, those in which I have already been hurt or compromised in some way. They whisper little lies into my ears knowing that somewhere within a part of me might be willing to believe them. They work tirelessly to get me to agree with them, and then once they have that staging point, they continue their assault further in.
One of my favorite movies is "Little Buddha". In this movie there is a scene which depicts the temptations of the Buddha by Mara (similar to the temptations of Christ in the desert by the Devil). The one image which stands out to me in this scene is where Mara assaults the Buddha with hundreds if not thousands of archers, and they all shoot flaming arrows at the Buddha as he sits serenely under a tree. As the arrows fall, they become flowers and blossoms and fall harmlessly around him.
Being delivered from my personal demons, I realized, doesn't mean they never attack me again, it means their attacks are never able to harm me again. It means that there are no more places for me to agree with them in, there are no more weak or compromised areas for them to assault, and so like the scene above, they can shoot all the flaming arrows they want, but they will only fall harmlessly like soft flower petals, much to their frustration.
Most of their temptations has to do with them trying to get me to react according to my experience, biology, or past history. For example, if I have a past history of being or feeling rejected by people, then they want to use that rejection to influence my present situation and get me to respond according to that rejection. This then can translate into anger, or bitterness against those people who rejected me in the past and I can spend my time dwelling there in my mind. It can also translate into mistrust for people's motives in the present, and absolute despair for the future, or a constant striving so that somehow things will be better in the future and "I'll show them."
It doesn't help to deny that I have this weakness either, in fact it makes it that much worse as I try to deal with them on my own. Denying that I have a problem only serves to provide another compromised area for them to renew their assault, and then I'm fighting, unsuccessfully on two different fronts. It only gets worse from there.
It really gets bad when I do try to deal with it on my own, without the prayer, support, and intercession of friends and family, whether or not I recognize that I am weak or compromised. It is like a favorite story of mine from Star Trek, which I shamelessly plagerize. It goes like this, a great windstorm was approaching the walls of a city. They rang the storm bell and hurried everyone into the safety of the walls. All went in except one, a warrior who was renowned for his courage in battle. The ruler of the city tried to convince him to take refuge in the city, but he would not. He said that he would stand outside the walls and make the wind fear him. The ruler gave up, honored his request, and went inside. The next morning, after the storm had passed they found that warriors body smashed against the city gates. The moral of the story, "the wind doesn't fear a fool."
Our personal demons attack and prey on our fears, our hopes, and our attachments. We become attached to our anger, our bitterness, or mistrust. They seem like familiar tools and friends who have gotten us through tough times before, but in truth they were the kind of friends who would show you a good time and then leave you battered and bleeding in an alley. We become attached to our possessions, our loved ones, our self image, and all the while we try desperately to maintain the lie that we will never lose them, when in fact we will eventually have to lose all of them. This is the nature of mortality, temporality, and impermanence. We become attached to our lives, fighting valiantly to stave off death for as long as possible, all the while refusing to see the truth that death is the only way to resurrection.
Death is in fact what our personal demons fear most. They fear us dying to our self image, dying to our possessions, dying to our anger and bitterness, dying to our refusal to accept change. They fear especially the death of the Cross. They fear especially what it means. They can't attack a corpse and expect it to respond favorably to them. It is this death which turns flaming arrows into flower blossoms. and it is a belief and trust in and experience of God's love and care for us, at least for me, that fuels that death. It is our faith in and acceptance of our death with Christ on His Cross that shields us from these attacks and renders them harmless. And it is precisely the experience of this death that allows us to experience Him; allows us to enter the Kingdom of Heaven and possess His Eternal Life here and now. It is like taking the red pill and finally being able to see the world as it truly is.
The attacks will persist. I've accepted that now. Their efficacy depends largely on my continuous acceptance of my death with Him, and His love and acceptance of me. They know this. They fear it, and over the last few days, I feel like their attacks have been stepped up, and have blind sided me a few times now, right in those places, at first, where I professed healing. By the grace of God, I recovered and He saw me through it, not allowing me to be blinded again. And I am learning through these stepped up attacks that the best place for me during them is to take refuge in Him, and in the prayers and intercessions of family and friends, seen and unseen, and not risk fighting them on my own at all, which is what they want. It's a tough lesson to learn, but in the end it is they who will be frustrated, upset, and alone as they realize they are beating on a dead corpse.
Of Illusions and Realities
Originally published as a Facebook Note April 25th, 2009
I just went for a walk today. I live near Disneyland and the Anaheim Resort. The walk from my apartment following the major streets constitutes probably at least a square mile. My neighborhood is separated from the resort area by the I-5 freeway which divides the two halves of the square down the diagonal.
In order to reach the resort area from my neighborhood you have to walk all the way around the freeway. There are no paths or shortcuts across or under it. The freeway exits for the resort area lead straight into it, with "no right turn" and "no left turn" signs posted right as the exit meets Anaheim Blvd. What's odd about this is that the exit terminates at a traffic light, and a right turn or left would be no more dangerous there than at any other traffic light. The entrances to the freeway from the resort are also just as singular in purpose. They lead straight out of the resort and do not permit any side trips into the surrounding city and neighborhoods.
As you walk along Harbor next to the Disneyland resort's main vehicle entrance you are surrounded by immaculate hotels suited to nearly every budget, restaurants and eateries ranging from McDonald's to Denny's, the Jolly Roger to Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. All of these places are staffed by very friendly, even perky, young adults and teenagers. There are people who are obvious tourists everywhere. The atmosphere is friendly, inviting, upbeat, and in constant motion. All of it is watched over by armed and unarmed security who stay mostly out of sight, and work tirelessly to blend in with the rest of the background, until a problem arises which calls on their intervention. And there is also the Anaheim police officers who make regular patrols on foot, bicycle, and patrol car through the parks and resorts.
As I walked through it all and somewhat blended in, several thoughts occurred to me. Most of the people who come here will only come here once in their lives. They will have saved up thousands of dollars to come here, spend a few nights in a hotel, and escape into the carefully orchestrated and sanitized world which this half of the square mile presents away from their "real" world wherever "back home" may be. They don't want to remember their bills, their employers, their schools, their real lives. They want to leave them, if only for a few days out of their entire lives, and be able to forget that they exist by immersing themselves in the family friendly illusions and dreams which the Resort Area offers.
On the other side of the freeway is my neighborhood. We live there because the rent is inexpensive... for Orange County at least. It is a predominantly Spanish speaking neighborhood. On one major street corner is a supermarket in which it is almost a requirement to know a little Spanish to purchase anything. The produce is fresh, ripe, and cheap. There's a real butcher, a real bakery, a small "Deli" of sorts which sells tacos, burritos, rotisserie chicken, menudo, chorizo, and other dishes of which it would be redundant to say they are authentically Mexican. I don't think those preparing them would know how to prepare anything else, and you're on your own if you can't say at least part of your order in Spanish. Nearby is a book and music store which proudly proclaims "musica, libros, peliculas" and no English translations anywhere on the signage. There are also a few fast food places as well.
My apartment complex is one of several along my street in various stages of disrepair. As you walk down the street on a Saturday, it is common to see people holding yard sales and trading their old things for someone else's old things. I'm not sure if any of it actually ever leaves this neighborhood after being sold. Young hispanic mothers play with their babies and watch their young children play. Older kids chase each other around. Boys strike up impromptu games of soccer in their yards, or in the school playground which is behind my complex. At night, they play street hockey in the school's parking lot.
As I have come home from work late at night, I have often found several of the men who live next to and near us surrounded around an old barely working television in the mailbox area watching a soccer game or a boxing game and being just as raucous and celebratory about it as if they were actually there. At other times, they just stand or sit with each other, drinking a few beers, swapping stories, insults, dreams, hopes, fears. One of my neighbors washes cars and fixes bicycles out of his garage. As I can tell, they work when they can get work, and share in each other's lives when they can't.
There are police who watch this area as well. They watch it like hawks, waiting for the kill. I see them patrol it several times a day, and supposedly with good reason. I have on more than one occasion caught the distinctive odor of marajuana wafting through my windows, or around the stairwell. I have see strangers simply sitting on the bench out front as if they were waiting for someone. A few times, strangers have come to my door with the shakes looking to acquire what I think was cocaine judging by the colorful names they were giving what they wanted. I have also often come home to find police units parked in the middle of the street. The officers were out with guns drawn on teenagers lying on the ground with hands on their heads. The man whose daughter we were babysitting for a time stopped coming when an undercover officer drew his gun on him as he was getting out of his car. His pregnant girlfriend who was in the car lost their child from the shock.
Illusions and realities. As human beings we fight, and scrimp, and strive, and spend everything we have saved to achieve the illusion and hold on to it, even if only for a few brief moments of our lives. We guard that illusion and even that hope of illusion jealously, and like the security in the background, when it becomes in danger of being invaded by reality, we strike back with a ferocity to force reality back into submission. But in the end, the illusion must fade when the money runs out. That's what illusions do. And when the money or resources run out, it doesn't just fade, it throws you out as though an unwelcome vagrant, without kindness, without pity, without remorse, and without compassion; all in the name of maintaining it's image. And we are left again with the shock of reality as it is, all the more painful because of the lost sweetness which we have so freshly tasted.
Reality isn't sweet. It isn't well manicured. It's life lived in the here and now with all that goes with it. Reality demands that you look at the present, and doesn't have time for illusion. Reality lives, loves, laughs, cries, shouts, gets angry, bleeds, and dies; sometimes all in the same instant. It demands your full attention and makes you pay for it. It sets the consequences of your actions in front of you and demands that you deal with them in the here and now, and will not be put off until tomorrow. Reality is the hardworking older man who lives by washing cars out of his garage. Reality is the group of kids who can't afford any more than just enjoying being with each other and playing soccer together. Reality is a boxing match shared on an old t.v. with gusto and joy or a game of pool played on a table rescued from a dumpster. Reality is the kid who can't find love or acceptance at home and so joins with others like himself and compose a new code of friendship, honor, and loyalty even if it means doing so at the expense of other's peace and security. Reality is the young mother who hides her bruises as well as she can, and hopes her husband doesn't come home drunk again.
We don't encounter God in the illusion. God is. He exists. He is right here, right now. He laughs, cries, shouts, weeps, shares, bleeds, hopes, loves, and dies right along with us here in reality. He feels it when the young mother has to take another backhand from her husband. He weeps with the older grandmother who doesn't know anymore how to help her grandson find his way out of his dark path. He empathizes when the young man can't find work, and knows just how he feels. We encounter God in the reality, where we don't want to be.
And when all is said and done, the illusion will finally fade and end. The buzz of whatever kind will pass away. The money will run out, the lights will fade, the party will be over. And then all that is left is Reality, where He is. Where He always and eternally Is. Where we don't want to be and have been fighting desperately to stay away from, and to stay away from Him.
There is no true joy without sorrow. No true pleasure without pain. No true sanity, without losing one's mind in order to find it. As Christians, it is often spoken of living in the "resurrection life". But in order for one to be resurrected, they must first die. That which has not died cannot by nature be resurrected. And so the resurrection which is commonly proclaimed is often only an illusion, and more often than not, one which is easy to see past given enough time. Truth will always make itself known as truth. Those who most often preach this kind of resurrected life do so for fear of the Cross, and the Reality it requires us to embrace. The one we don't want to embrace.
Illusions and realities. Jesus Christ spent long hours and days giving everything he had to the sick, the demonized, the lame, the crippled, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, and the dead. He spent most of His time in neighborhoods like mine with people who today could be drug dealers, young abused mothers, young men with no hope, old men with shattered dreams, societal outcasts, revolutionaries, radicals, and He set out to heal and bring healing to them all, body, mind, and spirit. Several of them were His closest friends and students and were responsible for carrying His message and salvation to the ends of the earth. If he shunned and criticized and policed anyone, it was those who fought to maintain their own illusions of power, security, and authority... and who did so no matter what it may cost anyone who got in their way, including Jesus Christ Himself. Jesus would likely be hanging out mostly in my neighborhood, not at the resort.
Are we going to follow Him or not?
I just went for a walk today. I live near Disneyland and the Anaheim Resort. The walk from my apartment following the major streets constitutes probably at least a square mile. My neighborhood is separated from the resort area by the I-5 freeway which divides the two halves of the square down the diagonal.
In order to reach the resort area from my neighborhood you have to walk all the way around the freeway. There are no paths or shortcuts across or under it. The freeway exits for the resort area lead straight into it, with "no right turn" and "no left turn" signs posted right as the exit meets Anaheim Blvd. What's odd about this is that the exit terminates at a traffic light, and a right turn or left would be no more dangerous there than at any other traffic light. The entrances to the freeway from the resort are also just as singular in purpose. They lead straight out of the resort and do not permit any side trips into the surrounding city and neighborhoods.
As you walk along Harbor next to the Disneyland resort's main vehicle entrance you are surrounded by immaculate hotels suited to nearly every budget, restaurants and eateries ranging from McDonald's to Denny's, the Jolly Roger to Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. All of these places are staffed by very friendly, even perky, young adults and teenagers. There are people who are obvious tourists everywhere. The atmosphere is friendly, inviting, upbeat, and in constant motion. All of it is watched over by armed and unarmed security who stay mostly out of sight, and work tirelessly to blend in with the rest of the background, until a problem arises which calls on their intervention. And there is also the Anaheim police officers who make regular patrols on foot, bicycle, and patrol car through the parks and resorts.
As I walked through it all and somewhat blended in, several thoughts occurred to me. Most of the people who come here will only come here once in their lives. They will have saved up thousands of dollars to come here, spend a few nights in a hotel, and escape into the carefully orchestrated and sanitized world which this half of the square mile presents away from their "real" world wherever "back home" may be. They don't want to remember their bills, their employers, their schools, their real lives. They want to leave them, if only for a few days out of their entire lives, and be able to forget that they exist by immersing themselves in the family friendly illusions and dreams which the Resort Area offers.
On the other side of the freeway is my neighborhood. We live there because the rent is inexpensive... for Orange County at least. It is a predominantly Spanish speaking neighborhood. On one major street corner is a supermarket in which it is almost a requirement to know a little Spanish to purchase anything. The produce is fresh, ripe, and cheap. There's a real butcher, a real bakery, a small "Deli" of sorts which sells tacos, burritos, rotisserie chicken, menudo, chorizo, and other dishes of which it would be redundant to say they are authentically Mexican. I don't think those preparing them would know how to prepare anything else, and you're on your own if you can't say at least part of your order in Spanish. Nearby is a book and music store which proudly proclaims "musica, libros, peliculas" and no English translations anywhere on the signage. There are also a few fast food places as well.
My apartment complex is one of several along my street in various stages of disrepair. As you walk down the street on a Saturday, it is common to see people holding yard sales and trading their old things for someone else's old things. I'm not sure if any of it actually ever leaves this neighborhood after being sold. Young hispanic mothers play with their babies and watch their young children play. Older kids chase each other around. Boys strike up impromptu games of soccer in their yards, or in the school playground which is behind my complex. At night, they play street hockey in the school's parking lot.
As I have come home from work late at night, I have often found several of the men who live next to and near us surrounded around an old barely working television in the mailbox area watching a soccer game or a boxing game and being just as raucous and celebratory about it as if they were actually there. At other times, they just stand or sit with each other, drinking a few beers, swapping stories, insults, dreams, hopes, fears. One of my neighbors washes cars and fixes bicycles out of his garage. As I can tell, they work when they can get work, and share in each other's lives when they can't.
There are police who watch this area as well. They watch it like hawks, waiting for the kill. I see them patrol it several times a day, and supposedly with good reason. I have on more than one occasion caught the distinctive odor of marajuana wafting through my windows, or around the stairwell. I have see strangers simply sitting on the bench out front as if they were waiting for someone. A few times, strangers have come to my door with the shakes looking to acquire what I think was cocaine judging by the colorful names they were giving what they wanted. I have also often come home to find police units parked in the middle of the street. The officers were out with guns drawn on teenagers lying on the ground with hands on their heads. The man whose daughter we were babysitting for a time stopped coming when an undercover officer drew his gun on him as he was getting out of his car. His pregnant girlfriend who was in the car lost their child from the shock.
Illusions and realities. As human beings we fight, and scrimp, and strive, and spend everything we have saved to achieve the illusion and hold on to it, even if only for a few brief moments of our lives. We guard that illusion and even that hope of illusion jealously, and like the security in the background, when it becomes in danger of being invaded by reality, we strike back with a ferocity to force reality back into submission. But in the end, the illusion must fade when the money runs out. That's what illusions do. And when the money or resources run out, it doesn't just fade, it throws you out as though an unwelcome vagrant, without kindness, without pity, without remorse, and without compassion; all in the name of maintaining it's image. And we are left again with the shock of reality as it is, all the more painful because of the lost sweetness which we have so freshly tasted.
Reality isn't sweet. It isn't well manicured. It's life lived in the here and now with all that goes with it. Reality demands that you look at the present, and doesn't have time for illusion. Reality lives, loves, laughs, cries, shouts, gets angry, bleeds, and dies; sometimes all in the same instant. It demands your full attention and makes you pay for it. It sets the consequences of your actions in front of you and demands that you deal with them in the here and now, and will not be put off until tomorrow. Reality is the hardworking older man who lives by washing cars out of his garage. Reality is the group of kids who can't afford any more than just enjoying being with each other and playing soccer together. Reality is a boxing match shared on an old t.v. with gusto and joy or a game of pool played on a table rescued from a dumpster. Reality is the kid who can't find love or acceptance at home and so joins with others like himself and compose a new code of friendship, honor, and loyalty even if it means doing so at the expense of other's peace and security. Reality is the young mother who hides her bruises as well as she can, and hopes her husband doesn't come home drunk again.
We don't encounter God in the illusion. God is. He exists. He is right here, right now. He laughs, cries, shouts, weeps, shares, bleeds, hopes, loves, and dies right along with us here in reality. He feels it when the young mother has to take another backhand from her husband. He weeps with the older grandmother who doesn't know anymore how to help her grandson find his way out of his dark path. He empathizes when the young man can't find work, and knows just how he feels. We encounter God in the reality, where we don't want to be.
And when all is said and done, the illusion will finally fade and end. The buzz of whatever kind will pass away. The money will run out, the lights will fade, the party will be over. And then all that is left is Reality, where He is. Where He always and eternally Is. Where we don't want to be and have been fighting desperately to stay away from, and to stay away from Him.
There is no true joy without sorrow. No true pleasure without pain. No true sanity, without losing one's mind in order to find it. As Christians, it is often spoken of living in the "resurrection life". But in order for one to be resurrected, they must first die. That which has not died cannot by nature be resurrected. And so the resurrection which is commonly proclaimed is often only an illusion, and more often than not, one which is easy to see past given enough time. Truth will always make itself known as truth. Those who most often preach this kind of resurrected life do so for fear of the Cross, and the Reality it requires us to embrace. The one we don't want to embrace.
Illusions and realities. Jesus Christ spent long hours and days giving everything he had to the sick, the demonized, the lame, the crippled, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, and the dead. He spent most of His time in neighborhoods like mine with people who today could be drug dealers, young abused mothers, young men with no hope, old men with shattered dreams, societal outcasts, revolutionaries, radicals, and He set out to heal and bring healing to them all, body, mind, and spirit. Several of them were His closest friends and students and were responsible for carrying His message and salvation to the ends of the earth. If he shunned and criticized and policed anyone, it was those who fought to maintain their own illusions of power, security, and authority... and who did so no matter what it may cost anyone who got in their way, including Jesus Christ Himself. Jesus would likely be hanging out mostly in my neighborhood, not at the resort.
Are we going to follow Him or not?
A Ramble about Saints
Originally published as a Facebook Note April 24th, 2009
I've been to a number of funerals in my life. I've said goodbye to more family and friends than I wanted to; I've said goodbye to grandparents, classmates, teachers, people I only met in passing, and a man not that much younger than myself whom the Lord had led me to guide him back to Him when he was in a great deal of pain. For him, I had to mourn his passing on my own as I wasn't able to attend his memorial. As I try to count the number of funerals I have been to, I realize I can't remember how many of them I've attended, but I remember the images of them quite well.
Some of them I knew very well, others only in passing. Some of them were quite lavish and extravagant such as a Police Officer's funeral in which I had the privilege to take part. Others were very quiet, with very few people in attendence, such as my great grandmother. Some were solemn, but without faith; remembering the person's life and understanding that their life was now gone, permanently. Others were more of a quiet celebration. I remember my grandmother Claudia's funeral, my paternal grandmother. The sense there was not that she was gone, but simply transformed and gone home.
Here soon, I will attend another. A dear friend for whom I was not there when she needed me at the end. That's a regret I will likely not get over soon. We will go, remember her with words, praise the Lord with song, and then spread the ashes of her physical form out into the ocean as she wanted. And then, we will go home, acknowledging that we will see her again... someday.
The Scriptures say that all who are baptized into Christ Jesus are joined to Him. That we are all knit together as One Body, one organism (as one of my professors once said in class), joined together by the Holy Spirit in a permanent, unbreakable bond. It also says that those who are absent from the body are present with the Lord, and that death no longer has any meaning for those of us who are in Christ Jesus. It says, "O grave where is your victory, O death where is your sting?" According to Paul, death is absolutely meaningless for those who are in Christ Jesus. It is a momentary annoyance at worst, and a release and transformation at best.
Why then do we act as though we actually believe that they're gone? If death means nothing to the body of Christ, if we really believe this, why do we assume that they're actually dead and treat the grave as this insurmountable chasm across which we lose the communion of our brothers and sisters until "someday"? Is this what He died for? To merely give us the faint hope of seeing them again "someday", or to keep us together bound in His spirit as a part of His Eternal Life, sharing His Eternal Life as one organism. If we honestly don't believe we're connceted to them anymore, or that the grave still has some power over us, why do we profess faith in Jesus Christ at all? What good does it do? If we are truly separated by death from our brothers and sisters, then the cross has failed. God Forbid It!
The resurrection begins with our death to ourselves and is completed upon the death of our physical bodies. Those who have passed in Christ are not dead but have begun there final transformation outside of time, and outside of space as we know it. They are not separated from us but are integrally a part of us through Him. They are still Family. They are still our brothers and sisters. And as the scriptures indicate in the letter to the Hebrews and in the Revelation, they know perfectly well what's going on with us, and are a great cloud of witnesses watching us run our races. What's more, do we honestly believe that knowing these things, as Family who care about us, that they're going to stand idly by and watch us as spectators, or, as Family, are they going to be caring about us, interceding for us and praying for us? What would we do in their place? What do we do now? Do I stop caring about and praying for my brothers and sisters in Christ simply because I've had my skin removed? Truth is, it would make more sense to me that having my skin removed would free me to love and intercede for them even more directly in His presence. Rather than prohibit me, it would free and embolden me to the ever present Reality that is Him, and Us in Him. "You in Me, and I in You, that they may be One in Us, that the world may believe that You have sent Me and have loved them even as You have loved Me." This was the prayer of Jesus Christ, do we honestly think the Father said no?
The thought of this threatens many, and threatens the faith and theology of many. It used to threaten mine. Communion with the dead? Isn't that being a medium? Not if those people are truly not dead but have passed from this dying body into Life in His presence. Those who have died outside of Christ, are outside of Christ, and are not a part of the body. They are dead, and awaiting judgment. I honestly can't speak for the Lord in this matter, because I'm not Him, and only He really knows what their fate will be. I only know that they are not bound to each other as we are through his Spirit, and they are not joined in His death and resurrection as we are through His Spirit.
If we believe in the resurrection, if we believe in Jesus Christ, then we must accept all that goes with it. We must act on all that goes with it. And in doing so, we can rejoice that our brothers and sisters who have gone before us are waiting for us to join them with open arms, and also extend those open arms now in the Spirit when we need them. That's what brothers and sisters are for. That's what Family is for.
I've been to a number of funerals in my life. I've said goodbye to more family and friends than I wanted to; I've said goodbye to grandparents, classmates, teachers, people I only met in passing, and a man not that much younger than myself whom the Lord had led me to guide him back to Him when he was in a great deal of pain. For him, I had to mourn his passing on my own as I wasn't able to attend his memorial. As I try to count the number of funerals I have been to, I realize I can't remember how many of them I've attended, but I remember the images of them quite well.
Some of them I knew very well, others only in passing. Some of them were quite lavish and extravagant such as a Police Officer's funeral in which I had the privilege to take part. Others were very quiet, with very few people in attendence, such as my great grandmother. Some were solemn, but without faith; remembering the person's life and understanding that their life was now gone, permanently. Others were more of a quiet celebration. I remember my grandmother Claudia's funeral, my paternal grandmother. The sense there was not that she was gone, but simply transformed and gone home.
Here soon, I will attend another. A dear friend for whom I was not there when she needed me at the end. That's a regret I will likely not get over soon. We will go, remember her with words, praise the Lord with song, and then spread the ashes of her physical form out into the ocean as she wanted. And then, we will go home, acknowledging that we will see her again... someday.
The Scriptures say that all who are baptized into Christ Jesus are joined to Him. That we are all knit together as One Body, one organism (as one of my professors once said in class), joined together by the Holy Spirit in a permanent, unbreakable bond. It also says that those who are absent from the body are present with the Lord, and that death no longer has any meaning for those of us who are in Christ Jesus. It says, "O grave where is your victory, O death where is your sting?" According to Paul, death is absolutely meaningless for those who are in Christ Jesus. It is a momentary annoyance at worst, and a release and transformation at best.
Why then do we act as though we actually believe that they're gone? If death means nothing to the body of Christ, if we really believe this, why do we assume that they're actually dead and treat the grave as this insurmountable chasm across which we lose the communion of our brothers and sisters until "someday"? Is this what He died for? To merely give us the faint hope of seeing them again "someday", or to keep us together bound in His spirit as a part of His Eternal Life, sharing His Eternal Life as one organism. If we honestly don't believe we're connceted to them anymore, or that the grave still has some power over us, why do we profess faith in Jesus Christ at all? What good does it do? If we are truly separated by death from our brothers and sisters, then the cross has failed. God Forbid It!
The resurrection begins with our death to ourselves and is completed upon the death of our physical bodies. Those who have passed in Christ are not dead but have begun there final transformation outside of time, and outside of space as we know it. They are not separated from us but are integrally a part of us through Him. They are still Family. They are still our brothers and sisters. And as the scriptures indicate in the letter to the Hebrews and in the Revelation, they know perfectly well what's going on with us, and are a great cloud of witnesses watching us run our races. What's more, do we honestly believe that knowing these things, as Family who care about us, that they're going to stand idly by and watch us as spectators, or, as Family, are they going to be caring about us, interceding for us and praying for us? What would we do in their place? What do we do now? Do I stop caring about and praying for my brothers and sisters in Christ simply because I've had my skin removed? Truth is, it would make more sense to me that having my skin removed would free me to love and intercede for them even more directly in His presence. Rather than prohibit me, it would free and embolden me to the ever present Reality that is Him, and Us in Him. "You in Me, and I in You, that they may be One in Us, that the world may believe that You have sent Me and have loved them even as You have loved Me." This was the prayer of Jesus Christ, do we honestly think the Father said no?
The thought of this threatens many, and threatens the faith and theology of many. It used to threaten mine. Communion with the dead? Isn't that being a medium? Not if those people are truly not dead but have passed from this dying body into Life in His presence. Those who have died outside of Christ, are outside of Christ, and are not a part of the body. They are dead, and awaiting judgment. I honestly can't speak for the Lord in this matter, because I'm not Him, and only He really knows what their fate will be. I only know that they are not bound to each other as we are through his Spirit, and they are not joined in His death and resurrection as we are through His Spirit.
If we believe in the resurrection, if we believe in Jesus Christ, then we must accept all that goes with it. We must act on all that goes with it. And in doing so, we can rejoice that our brothers and sisters who have gone before us are waiting for us to join them with open arms, and also extend those open arms now in the Spirit when we need them. That's what brothers and sisters are for. That's what Family is for.
A Ramble about Money
Originally published as a Facebook Note April 22nd, 2009
I recently heard from another pastor friend of mine who is starting a study series about money and finances. It's not really a bad topic. Truth is, I'm horrible at keeping track of my own finances and anyone who knows me knows this is true. But for some reason, it just doesn't strike a very good chord in me to be talking about money at what is supposed to be, essentially, a meeting to learn more about what it means to follow Jesus Christ.
I got the same reaction recently from a church newsletter I got. This particular church is usually very careful about when it mentions the offering, and usually takes great pains to not even pass around the collection plate, preferring anonymous donations dropped in the box in the back. But lately, because of the economic crisis which has been hitting everyone, they've had to start mentioning it a little more often. Pastors still need to to eat, and rent still needs to be paid. I can't really criticize this. I know firsthand what it means to draw your living from a church offering, and what that living often amounts to, when all you see is five or ten dollars here or there. It's disheartening, frustrating, and difficult.
It is my observation that many good pastors really don't want to talk about money, but find themselves forced to. It becomes a necessary evil just to keep the church's lights on, and to keep gas in their car so they can make it to church. The Bible itself several times indicates that the worker is worthy of his (or her) wages, and that those who preach the gospel should live by the gospel. It becomes incredibly difficult to maintain one's credibility, though, as a servant of God and a follower of Jesus Christ who taught us not to worry about what we should eat, or what we should wear, to then have to go to their congregations and ask to be paid a living wage, and essentially to ask them for money. It's really not fair, because there seems to be a number of "pastors" who have no real issues with this and live lives some heads of state can only fantasize about.
Money tends to turn the Church of Jesus Christ into a business. Some denominations even go so far as to have their members sign what is effectively a legal document; a pledge to give so much money per month so that they can know what their balance sheet is going to look like. Many Seminaries now teach more business administration than pastoring for this reason.
In the gospels and in the book of Acts we see Jesus having taught a very different view and practice of money than the one we are taught almost from birth as Americans (in particular). Jesus taught His first disciples to give up everything and follow Him. From what can be seen from the scriptures, the first disciples literally left everything and traveled, homeless, with Jesus. Their income came from a group of women who provided for them out of their own pockets, and when they had nothing, there is no record that Jesus ever told them to solicit the people for anything. When He sent them out, He sent them out with the explicit instruction that they were to take only the clothes on their backs. He told them to not worry about what they would eat or wear or drink, but to put first the Kingdom of Heaven, and then all of these things would be given to them. In the scriptures Peter says very clearly that they had left everything to follow Him, and when Jesus called men to follow Him, the explicit or implict instruction was to leave everything else behind, or to sell it and give it to the poor.
In the Book of Acts, we see the Apsotles and other disciples carrying out the same manner of living and teaching in that everyone who was added to the Church, went and sold everything they had, and then brought the money to the Apostles. The Apostles then distributed money and food to everyone in the Church as they needed, and no one went without. When some prejudice or abuses began, the Apostles set Deacons over the whole process to police it. Notice also in Acts that this process was voluntary. It wasn't a requirement of membership. People gave in accordance with what faith they had that God would provide for them, and that faith as much or as little as was theirs was received and welcomed, and not belittled or asked for more. The only record where it was called into question has to do with a couple attempting to deceive God, the Apostles, the Church, and themselves. This deception, not their lack of faith, was met with grave consequences by God Himself through Peter.
We don't do this today. Why? I know for myself, I would be scared to give everything I had to a church's leadership if I didn't know I could trust them or the mechanism in place to ensure that me and mine were taken care of. I would be scared of the inevitable church politics and people who might slight me or mine or somehow make it so that we went hungry. And of course there is the attachment to things (something Jesus Christ taught not to be by the way), how am I to acquire those pleasant toys and luxuries for myself without money of my own? And then there is the fact that we call this form of economy "Communism" or "Socialism" in this day and age. Neither word sits well with most Americans, and most words stir up a patriotic backlash and promotion of capitalism and a free market economy. Jesus Christ, with what he taught, would be labeled a liberal communist by many in the conservative community, except of course that most of these profess to follow Him, and so conveniently gloss over and theologically sanitize this part of His teaching.
If we are going to profess to follow Jesus Christ, then we need to actually follow Him, and what he taught. The truth is that in the state which our economy and the world's economy find themselves in, what Jesus taught and the Apostles practiced would be more relevant for the Church today than at almost any other point in our history. If we all pooled all of our resources into a single fund and then doled out to everyone as need permitted within the Church, chances are no one would go hungry, have their bills unpaid, or have to worry about their rent. The rest of the world would crash down around their ears, but they would be unmoved economically and would be financially secured.
It would require following the principles of detachment from material things, and trust in God's provision which Jesus Christ taught. It would require a radical revamp of the Church as we know it. Are we willing to put our money where our mouth is and follow Him?
I recently heard from another pastor friend of mine who is starting a study series about money and finances. It's not really a bad topic. Truth is, I'm horrible at keeping track of my own finances and anyone who knows me knows this is true. But for some reason, it just doesn't strike a very good chord in me to be talking about money at what is supposed to be, essentially, a meeting to learn more about what it means to follow Jesus Christ.
I got the same reaction recently from a church newsletter I got. This particular church is usually very careful about when it mentions the offering, and usually takes great pains to not even pass around the collection plate, preferring anonymous donations dropped in the box in the back. But lately, because of the economic crisis which has been hitting everyone, they've had to start mentioning it a little more often. Pastors still need to to eat, and rent still needs to be paid. I can't really criticize this. I know firsthand what it means to draw your living from a church offering, and what that living often amounts to, when all you see is five or ten dollars here or there. It's disheartening, frustrating, and difficult.
It is my observation that many good pastors really don't want to talk about money, but find themselves forced to. It becomes a necessary evil just to keep the church's lights on, and to keep gas in their car so they can make it to church. The Bible itself several times indicates that the worker is worthy of his (or her) wages, and that those who preach the gospel should live by the gospel. It becomes incredibly difficult to maintain one's credibility, though, as a servant of God and a follower of Jesus Christ who taught us not to worry about what we should eat, or what we should wear, to then have to go to their congregations and ask to be paid a living wage, and essentially to ask them for money. It's really not fair, because there seems to be a number of "pastors" who have no real issues with this and live lives some heads of state can only fantasize about.
Money tends to turn the Church of Jesus Christ into a business. Some denominations even go so far as to have their members sign what is effectively a legal document; a pledge to give so much money per month so that they can know what their balance sheet is going to look like. Many Seminaries now teach more business administration than pastoring for this reason.
In the gospels and in the book of Acts we see Jesus having taught a very different view and practice of money than the one we are taught almost from birth as Americans (in particular). Jesus taught His first disciples to give up everything and follow Him. From what can be seen from the scriptures, the first disciples literally left everything and traveled, homeless, with Jesus. Their income came from a group of women who provided for them out of their own pockets, and when they had nothing, there is no record that Jesus ever told them to solicit the people for anything. When He sent them out, He sent them out with the explicit instruction that they were to take only the clothes on their backs. He told them to not worry about what they would eat or wear or drink, but to put first the Kingdom of Heaven, and then all of these things would be given to them. In the scriptures Peter says very clearly that they had left everything to follow Him, and when Jesus called men to follow Him, the explicit or implict instruction was to leave everything else behind, or to sell it and give it to the poor.
In the Book of Acts, we see the Apsotles and other disciples carrying out the same manner of living and teaching in that everyone who was added to the Church, went and sold everything they had, and then brought the money to the Apostles. The Apostles then distributed money and food to everyone in the Church as they needed, and no one went without. When some prejudice or abuses began, the Apostles set Deacons over the whole process to police it. Notice also in Acts that this process was voluntary. It wasn't a requirement of membership. People gave in accordance with what faith they had that God would provide for them, and that faith as much or as little as was theirs was received and welcomed, and not belittled or asked for more. The only record where it was called into question has to do with a couple attempting to deceive God, the Apostles, the Church, and themselves. This deception, not their lack of faith, was met with grave consequences by God Himself through Peter.
We don't do this today. Why? I know for myself, I would be scared to give everything I had to a church's leadership if I didn't know I could trust them or the mechanism in place to ensure that me and mine were taken care of. I would be scared of the inevitable church politics and people who might slight me or mine or somehow make it so that we went hungry. And of course there is the attachment to things (something Jesus Christ taught not to be by the way), how am I to acquire those pleasant toys and luxuries for myself without money of my own? And then there is the fact that we call this form of economy "Communism" or "Socialism" in this day and age. Neither word sits well with most Americans, and most words stir up a patriotic backlash and promotion of capitalism and a free market economy. Jesus Christ, with what he taught, would be labeled a liberal communist by many in the conservative community, except of course that most of these profess to follow Him, and so conveniently gloss over and theologically sanitize this part of His teaching.
If we are going to profess to follow Jesus Christ, then we need to actually follow Him, and what he taught. The truth is that in the state which our economy and the world's economy find themselves in, what Jesus taught and the Apostles practiced would be more relevant for the Church today than at almost any other point in our history. If we all pooled all of our resources into a single fund and then doled out to everyone as need permitted within the Church, chances are no one would go hungry, have their bills unpaid, or have to worry about their rent. The rest of the world would crash down around their ears, but they would be unmoved economically and would be financially secured.
It would require following the principles of detachment from material things, and trust in God's provision which Jesus Christ taught. It would require a radical revamp of the Church as we know it. Are we willing to put our money where our mouth is and follow Him?
A Ramble about an Unacceptable Situation
Originally published as a Facebook Note April 20th, 2009
I'm sitting here in my stole about to say Mass before I go to bed tonight.
There is a question which is never far from my mind and usually running in the background somewhere. How do we fix the Church of Jesus Christ?
This assumes that somehow it's broken. Or that it is somehow disordered. Whether or not you agree with me that it is... we can argue rings around each other why it is or isn't, and get nowhere.
But I see symptoms of a much greater problem. I have previously written about the judgmentalism of various professing Christians, when Jesus Christ taught non-judgment. I have previously written about these lost sheep who have run from the Church, and whose faith exists in various states of ruin. The members of the visible Church are often the cause of those who are not a part of the Body to not want to become a part of the Body for the hypocrisy. Why would anyone want to follow Jesus Christ when we don't follow Him ourselves? Why would anyone profess faith when professing Christians often betray their lack of faith by their actions? The One, Holy, Universal, and Apostolic Church of Jesus Christ is fractured into a thousand and tens of thousands of bickering political parties each professing that they only have the real "Truth", and this "Truth" which they profess is a theological doctrine or dogma which takes all precedence in terms of importance over what Jesus Christ actually taught, or in some cases even over Jesus Christ Himself. In the more extreme versions, murder is even committed in His Name.
The Tao Te Ching, in one stanza, says something like "when the way is lost, ultimately there remains only the facade of ritual and religion." This is a gross paraphrase--largely because I can't remember the original word for word-- but I think it carries the meaning of the original. The Buddhist would likely agree that when the Truth is lost, there is only ignorance and Self lost in the sea of transient and impermanent experiences. I would argue that when the Life is lost, there remains only the onset of decay to the body, which at first appears as attractive and healthy as it was when the Life was within it, but as each second passes by with no blood flow, it begins to rot and stink and decay as it breaks down, and then it is evident to all that what is present is a dead corpse, and not a living body.
The Way, the Truth, and the Life. This is Jesus Christ. He said what would happen when we didn't remain in Him as a branch remains in the vine. We could do nothing. Much worse, the branch would wither and die and be thrown into a fire where it would be consumed (John 15:4-6, check it out for yourself).
What then is the answer to this problem? I thought at one time another congregation, or another church, but that would only add to the problem, not correct it. Others saw the same problem in the Church's history and responded with new denominations and sects and reform movements. They responded with new theologies, believing that the old theologies were the problem to be corrected. If new teachings or new Bodies were the answer then the problem would have been corrected a long time ago, a thousand thousand times over.
It is like the illustration of Plato's cave, except those who may have been freed from the cave to experience the sunlight have themselves chosen to be shackled again to the cave seeing only the shadows, yet all the while proclaiming that they are free when any fool who can see shadows can tell that they are not.
We have, collectively if not individually, lost far more than the Truth which Jesus Christ taught, we have lost Jesus Christ Himself, and willingly chosen to be blinded again by the god of this world. We need to recover the Way, the Truth, and the Life who is Jesus Christ, and this can't be done through more theology, more division, more Bible Studies, Church meetings, sermons, rallies, tent revivals, books that don't get read except by pastors, or any other tactic which has been tried. We all can see the need unless we're totally blinded. We know something is malfunctioning or disordered somewhere. We can see the evidence for it ourselves, but we can't put our finger on it. It's just out of the range of our perception. And so we shrug our shoulders, and go back to doing what we were doing.
We need Jesus Christ. We, the Church, need Jesus Christ. We need Him. We need to be wrapped in Him. We need to live and breath Him. We need to eat, drink, dream, and live Jesus Christ. St. Paul wrote, "for everyone who has been baptized into Jesus Christ has been baptized into His death," and also "For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory." We don't need any or more theologies or books about Him. We don't need to discuss about Him. We don't need to do things in His name. We don't need to act for Him in His absence. We need Him. We need Him flowing through us. We need Him flowing through veins, filling our lungs, running up and down our nerves. We need Him within us and pouring out through us. When He is not present, then we decay and become blinded. The Buddha said, "there is Self and there is Truth, where Self is, Truth is not. Where Truth is, Self is not." Jesus Christ is Truth, and where He is, there is no Self to turn inward to. At the same time, where Self is present, Jesus Christ is not.
The Church, collectively, is a decaying corpse. One of the things God is really good at is resurrection, but resurrection only comes through Jesus Christ. Resurrection only comes when one dies to Self and is integrally joined to Jesus Christ in His death. Unless Self dies, Jesus Christ will not come in resurrection.
We have, collectively, lost what it means to be Christian. To follow Jesus Christ in His death, and resurrection. Very few, it seems, have individually found it. This is an unacceptable situation.
I'm sitting here in my stole about to say Mass before I go to bed tonight.
There is a question which is never far from my mind and usually running in the background somewhere. How do we fix the Church of Jesus Christ?
This assumes that somehow it's broken. Or that it is somehow disordered. Whether or not you agree with me that it is... we can argue rings around each other why it is or isn't, and get nowhere.
But I see symptoms of a much greater problem. I have previously written about the judgmentalism of various professing Christians, when Jesus Christ taught non-judgment. I have previously written about these lost sheep who have run from the Church, and whose faith exists in various states of ruin. The members of the visible Church are often the cause of those who are not a part of the Body to not want to become a part of the Body for the hypocrisy. Why would anyone want to follow Jesus Christ when we don't follow Him ourselves? Why would anyone profess faith when professing Christians often betray their lack of faith by their actions? The One, Holy, Universal, and Apostolic Church of Jesus Christ is fractured into a thousand and tens of thousands of bickering political parties each professing that they only have the real "Truth", and this "Truth" which they profess is a theological doctrine or dogma which takes all precedence in terms of importance over what Jesus Christ actually taught, or in some cases even over Jesus Christ Himself. In the more extreme versions, murder is even committed in His Name.
The Tao Te Ching, in one stanza, says something like "when the way is lost, ultimately there remains only the facade of ritual and religion." This is a gross paraphrase--largely because I can't remember the original word for word-- but I think it carries the meaning of the original. The Buddhist would likely agree that when the Truth is lost, there is only ignorance and Self lost in the sea of transient and impermanent experiences. I would argue that when the Life is lost, there remains only the onset of decay to the body, which at first appears as attractive and healthy as it was when the Life was within it, but as each second passes by with no blood flow, it begins to rot and stink and decay as it breaks down, and then it is evident to all that what is present is a dead corpse, and not a living body.
The Way, the Truth, and the Life. This is Jesus Christ. He said what would happen when we didn't remain in Him as a branch remains in the vine. We could do nothing. Much worse, the branch would wither and die and be thrown into a fire where it would be consumed (John 15:4-6, check it out for yourself).
What then is the answer to this problem? I thought at one time another congregation, or another church, but that would only add to the problem, not correct it. Others saw the same problem in the Church's history and responded with new denominations and sects and reform movements. They responded with new theologies, believing that the old theologies were the problem to be corrected. If new teachings or new Bodies were the answer then the problem would have been corrected a long time ago, a thousand thousand times over.
It is like the illustration of Plato's cave, except those who may have been freed from the cave to experience the sunlight have themselves chosen to be shackled again to the cave seeing only the shadows, yet all the while proclaiming that they are free when any fool who can see shadows can tell that they are not.
We have, collectively if not individually, lost far more than the Truth which Jesus Christ taught, we have lost Jesus Christ Himself, and willingly chosen to be blinded again by the god of this world. We need to recover the Way, the Truth, and the Life who is Jesus Christ, and this can't be done through more theology, more division, more Bible Studies, Church meetings, sermons, rallies, tent revivals, books that don't get read except by pastors, or any other tactic which has been tried. We all can see the need unless we're totally blinded. We know something is malfunctioning or disordered somewhere. We can see the evidence for it ourselves, but we can't put our finger on it. It's just out of the range of our perception. And so we shrug our shoulders, and go back to doing what we were doing.
We need Jesus Christ. We, the Church, need Jesus Christ. We need Him. We need to be wrapped in Him. We need to live and breath Him. We need to eat, drink, dream, and live Jesus Christ. St. Paul wrote, "for everyone who has been baptized into Jesus Christ has been baptized into His death," and also "For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory." We don't need any or more theologies or books about Him. We don't need to discuss about Him. We don't need to do things in His name. We don't need to act for Him in His absence. We need Him. We need Him flowing through us. We need Him flowing through veins, filling our lungs, running up and down our nerves. We need Him within us and pouring out through us. When He is not present, then we decay and become blinded. The Buddha said, "there is Self and there is Truth, where Self is, Truth is not. Where Truth is, Self is not." Jesus Christ is Truth, and where He is, there is no Self to turn inward to. At the same time, where Self is present, Jesus Christ is not.
The Church, collectively, is a decaying corpse. One of the things God is really good at is resurrection, but resurrection only comes through Jesus Christ. Resurrection only comes when one dies to Self and is integrally joined to Jesus Christ in His death. Unless Self dies, Jesus Christ will not come in resurrection.
We have, collectively, lost what it means to be Christian. To follow Jesus Christ in His death, and resurrection. Very few, it seems, have individually found it. This is an unacceptable situation.
A Ramble about Lost Sheep
Originally published as a Facebook Note April 12th, 2009
Some time ago, as I was pulling one ton pallets through the crowded aisles of Wal-Mart (if it sounds dangerous and foolhardy... it was), I got this image in my head from the Lord.
There was a rancher who owned a lot of sheep, and shepherd were hired to watch over different flocks. Some flocks were larger, some were smaller, but all the sheep belonged ultimately to the rancher, not the shepherd in charge of them.
Some of the shepherds were doing their job well and faithfully. The sheep were well cared for, and the shepherds had the exhaustion and bags under their eyes to prove it. Other shepherds however were not. Some beat the sheep under their care. Some didn't feed them properly. Others overfed them but then didn't exercise them. Some were abused in other ways, or poisoned because the shepherd didn't seem to know the difference between good feed and bad. Some shepherds were fleecing the sheep far too often, as such they were sick and ill prepared for the winter.
As a result, some sheep broke from their flocks and stalls and ran for the hills, terrified of the shepherds put over them. Out in the hills, some of them were able to survive on their own and were doing ok for the most part. Others however got into poisonous plants. Some couldn't traverse the terrain and were injured; some of them seriously. Others ate themselves over cliffs as sheep are quite capable of doing.
And as I saw this in my head, I could sense the concern the Rancher had for his sheep which had fled, and the anger which he had towards the shepherds in question to whom He had entrusted His livestock. And I sensed from Him that someone needed to go get them and look after them.
I have since wrestled with this question. How? If we were talking literal sheep, one could take a tranquilizer gun and some rope and go collect them. Unfortunately, it's not quite that easy with the Lord's sheep. It would be nice if it was, but it isn't. Often, those who have been hurt or abused tend to run from anyone who looks or smells like a shepherd. And honestly, I would, too if I had been abused like that.
One thought which has run through my mind lately is that these are the people for whom Jesus targeted His ministry. He didn't target the unbeliever (read Gentile), and He didn't target those who were professedly religious (read Pharisee, Sadducee, Essene, or other). He said instead, "I was not sent except to the lost (lit. ruined) sheep of the house of Israel," and also, "those who are well don't need a physician, but only those who are sick, I have not come to call the righteous to repentance, but outcasts."
So what do we do about these brothers and sisters in Christ, many of whom are baptized, who believe in Jesus Christ, yet do not trust the Church or its shepherds? Do we just write them off? Do we let them just go elsewhere? Do we let them fall off of cliffs? After talking with some pastors (several of whom I respect highly), it seems like that is the general attitude. It's their fault for not accepting the authority of the Church or the Pastor.
Another thing about these lost sheep, is that many of them seem to be my generation and younger. I was talking to an old friend of mine recently who happens to be a youth pastor. The church he serves at has lost a lot of the people (including myself) who had been in the youth group over a decade ago and now are in their late twenties or early thirties. I could sense from him that he had a real heart for them, but he too seems to be at a loss as to how to bring them back into a regular church attendance of some or any kind. After putting out an inquiry to various churches in the area, he said that the general response he got was "good luck with that."
These are the people who are most on the heart of Jesus Christ. Members of the family who have somehow been ruined and written off by the Church, intentionally or unintentionally. These are the people He went after Himself while on earth, and I believe these are the people we need to go after and take care of. But the question remains, how?
One can start another church, but there's no guarantee they'll come; and there's much more of a chance they'll think it's a really good idea, and then not show up. It looks too much like what hurt them in the first place.
If we were on a mission to rescue sheep in the hills, we wouldn't wait for them to find their way back into the pens themselves. We'd go out, round them up and get them.
So, does anyone have any ideas as to how to accomplish this, or do we once again just write them off?
Some time ago, as I was pulling one ton pallets through the crowded aisles of Wal-Mart (if it sounds dangerous and foolhardy... it was), I got this image in my head from the Lord.
There was a rancher who owned a lot of sheep, and shepherd were hired to watch over different flocks. Some flocks were larger, some were smaller, but all the sheep belonged ultimately to the rancher, not the shepherd in charge of them.
Some of the shepherds were doing their job well and faithfully. The sheep were well cared for, and the shepherds had the exhaustion and bags under their eyes to prove it. Other shepherds however were not. Some beat the sheep under their care. Some didn't feed them properly. Others overfed them but then didn't exercise them. Some were abused in other ways, or poisoned because the shepherd didn't seem to know the difference between good feed and bad. Some shepherds were fleecing the sheep far too often, as such they were sick and ill prepared for the winter.
As a result, some sheep broke from their flocks and stalls and ran for the hills, terrified of the shepherds put over them. Out in the hills, some of them were able to survive on their own and were doing ok for the most part. Others however got into poisonous plants. Some couldn't traverse the terrain and were injured; some of them seriously. Others ate themselves over cliffs as sheep are quite capable of doing.
And as I saw this in my head, I could sense the concern the Rancher had for his sheep which had fled, and the anger which he had towards the shepherds in question to whom He had entrusted His livestock. And I sensed from Him that someone needed to go get them and look after them.
I have since wrestled with this question. How? If we were talking literal sheep, one could take a tranquilizer gun and some rope and go collect them. Unfortunately, it's not quite that easy with the Lord's sheep. It would be nice if it was, but it isn't. Often, those who have been hurt or abused tend to run from anyone who looks or smells like a shepherd. And honestly, I would, too if I had been abused like that.
One thought which has run through my mind lately is that these are the people for whom Jesus targeted His ministry. He didn't target the unbeliever (read Gentile), and He didn't target those who were professedly religious (read Pharisee, Sadducee, Essene, or other). He said instead, "I was not sent except to the lost (lit. ruined) sheep of the house of Israel," and also, "those who are well don't need a physician, but only those who are sick, I have not come to call the righteous to repentance, but outcasts."
So what do we do about these brothers and sisters in Christ, many of whom are baptized, who believe in Jesus Christ, yet do not trust the Church or its shepherds? Do we just write them off? Do we let them just go elsewhere? Do we let them fall off of cliffs? After talking with some pastors (several of whom I respect highly), it seems like that is the general attitude. It's their fault for not accepting the authority of the Church or the Pastor.
Another thing about these lost sheep, is that many of them seem to be my generation and younger. I was talking to an old friend of mine recently who happens to be a youth pastor. The church he serves at has lost a lot of the people (including myself) who had been in the youth group over a decade ago and now are in their late twenties or early thirties. I could sense from him that he had a real heart for them, but he too seems to be at a loss as to how to bring them back into a regular church attendance of some or any kind. After putting out an inquiry to various churches in the area, he said that the general response he got was "good luck with that."
These are the people who are most on the heart of Jesus Christ. Members of the family who have somehow been ruined and written off by the Church, intentionally or unintentionally. These are the people He went after Himself while on earth, and I believe these are the people we need to go after and take care of. But the question remains, how?
One can start another church, but there's no guarantee they'll come; and there's much more of a chance they'll think it's a really good idea, and then not show up. It looks too much like what hurt them in the first place.
If we were on a mission to rescue sheep in the hills, we wouldn't wait for them to find their way back into the pens themselves. We'd go out, round them up and get them.
So, does anyone have any ideas as to how to accomplish this, or do we once again just write them off?
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