Foot Brain (Easter - Day 31)

(Based on Romans 12:1-21)

I was so intent yesterday on practicing submission with the people at work. I started off really well, trying to give words of affirmation and not honing in on other people's defects. I was doing great until about thirty minutes after the lunch rush started. The craziness was setting in. We were falling behind. Food was piling up in the window. I was trying my best to stay cool, calm, and collected. I kept making mistakes as I was trying to get the food out as fast as possible, putting the wrong sandwiches in the wrong to-go bags and stuff like that. I, the one who makes a big deal when other people mess up on to-go orders. Right in the middle of all this, a fried shrimp comes flying at my face and hits me square in the chin. 

I wish I could say that I looked my perpetrator in the eye and asked, "Can I get you a glass of water, friend?" I wasn't having any of that though. I located the shrimp on the floor, picked it up, and chunked it as hard as I could. I have to say it was a pretty good shot. I was pissed. It was one of those moments where my reaction was guided by some force that completely took over. I didn't have time to think, just to react. I pointed at him and said something like, "Don't you ever do that again! I will kill you!" Then I muttered some broken Spanish that went something like, "Tu es muerte." I didn't exactly carry out my plan of submission in that moment. I definitely tried to power up and retaliate against my opponent. 

The good thing I guess, is I laughed about it a few minutes later. I realized how silly I was being, and that if my opposing shrimp thrower was ever in a bind I would be more than happy to help him out. Just don't throw shrimp at me and we'll be good.

In today's passage, Paul talks about how we're each like functioning body parts of the whole. We all have unique, significant functions that contribute to the whole body. Even though we want to act as cut-off fingers and toes sometimes, it's next to impossible. We are still connected, and eventually we have to come to the conclusion that we're stuck here, so we might as well make the best of it. It seems better to accept the fact that I'm connected to the other parts of the body at work, regardless of how significant or insignificant I think their functions are in regards to mine. The truth is, I need them in order to function properly and effectively. Paul calls Jesus the "head of the body." I guess that means he's the mad scientist behind all this chaos we live every day. Sometimes it seems so silly and pointless that I just float by wondering when things are going to straighten out a little. 

But, to think that what I'm doing for the body is the most important thing in the world is delusional. To think that the body can't survive without me is like a foot trying to be the brain. The fact is, I do this more often than not. I think the workplace can't possibly survive without my guidance. The church can't possibly exist without my knowledge. My friends can't get by without having me. That's what I mean by thinking like a foot. 

The only goodness I have comes from the control center, the brain. And, in order for the signals to get from the brain to the foot, they have to travel through millions of other parts of the body to finally arrive to me. Then, I can walk. I am not an isolated part that thinks on my own and exists apart from the whole body, no matter how much I think I am. I need the other people around me in order to move, to function, and to walk. 

No matter how personal or impersonal we are, we are connected in ways that are both visible and invisible. The hard part is not fighting it, and accepting that I need the people around me, including my enemies and the people who annoy the crap out of me. I need my friend who suffers from extreme depression and cerebral palsy. I need my sixty-year old roommate. I need my boss at work. I need my girlfriend. I need my teachers. I need the cook who enjoys seeing me get pissed when he throws stuff at me. I don't need them in a co-dependent sort of way, but a connected, functioning kind of way. All these people are transporting signals to me from the source of power, and if I don't pay attention I can easily fall into the belief that I'm just floating along, isolated, creating my own goodness and functionability. 

Today's Action: Take notice of the people around us today. See how we are receiving "signals" from them in order to function properly as a connected part of the body. Thank God for each of them. 

Thwarted (Easter - Day 30)

(Based on Colossians 3:18-4:18)

About two weeks ago, my friend invited me to go watch The Evil Dead. I'm a big horror buff, and I love a good scary movie. I tend to lean towards the viewpoint of Stephen King, who says, "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win." Watching scary movies reminds me that at any moment the monster may come out. I've gotta keep him in check. Although the original filming of Evil Dead was a cult classic, and one of the best horror flics of all time, I had done my research on the new one, and wasn't impressed. I knew going into it that it would be a chop 'em and kill 'em sort of movie, all about shock and awe. I wanted to go watch the new Ryan Gosling movie, The Place Beyond the Pines. That one was gonna be good. 

When my friend invited me, I had all this information in front of me from people who had already seen the movie, and it wasn't looking good. My instincts told me to not waste my money. My friend told me it was gonna be gory. What should I do? 

You're probably wondering what in the world going to watch The Evil Dead has to do with a letter to a church in Colosse a very long time ago. In order to find out what was happening in that time, I need to shine a little light on how I normally react in situations in which I already have a plan and someone comes in and infringes on it. I win out. I do whatever it takes to convince the person how my plan is better than theirs, and we end up going to see the movie that I want to see. I imagine that the reason Paul was writing about things like wives submitting to husbands, husbands submitting to wives, children honoring parents, and slaves submitting to masters was, everyone was trying to run the show. 

What really happened in my encounter with my friend was mostly internal. I was in a position to either use my power to persuade, or yield my power to submit. Even with the simplest, most mundane things of life, the though of submitting is yucky. The thought doesn't taste good. It makes me feel like I'm about to be walked on or taken advantage of, and punctures a hole in my heart of self-importance. But, every once in awhile, that night included, I submit. I yield my power, my plans, and my agendas to the desires of another. 

The crazy thing about submission is, it always seems like I'm going to lose something in the end. However, something is nearly always gained. My friend and I had a great time. We enjoyed each other's company, and laughed at all the cheesy scenes where people cut their faces off and shot nails into each other's heads. It was great, but cheesy nonetheless. I left that night thankful that I was able to let go of my all-powerful plans just long enough to find a window of opportunity and say, "Sure. I'll go."

I don't think Paul is talking in this passage about making sure we know where our places are when it comes to social status. I don't think he's trying to tell the wives to understand they're lower than their husbands. I don't think he's telling the husbands they're badasses and should place themselves higher than their wives. He's not telling children that they have no say in anything when it comes to their relationship with parents. He's not telling slaves that they are nothing compared to their masters. He's actually restoring a lost dignity to each group: wives, husbands, children, parents, slaves, and masters. Evidently, all of these "social statuses" had become just that. Everyone was becoming what society told them to be, and they were using their power in ways that promoted social stratification. 

Paul just said in the passage before that because of what Christ did, the words like slave and free, man and female, are meaningless now. Yet, when we choose to use power in ways that projects us physically or mentally above others, we are forgetting what Christ did. We are forgetting that part of the old, dead, and rotten way of life included putting ourselves above other people in our homes, our jobs, and our relationships. What Paul proposes is the idea of submission all across the board. He takes all the social status positions created by society, and puts them all into one category called submission - the yielding of power. 

Now, the relationship between man and wife is defined by how well they yield power to the other. The relationship between the child and parent is defined by how well the child yields its power to the parent through obedience, and how well the parent yields its power to punish. The relationship between the slave and master (or, boss to employee), is defined by how well the employee yields power in following instructions, and how well the boss yields power in punishing mistakes. 

When we wake up to the reality of a new life of freedom, relationships become everything. The closest we can get to experiencing God is experiencing harmonious relationships. I am the king of trying to get my own way, no matter if the relationship is at work or with friends. But what Paul says is that when I try to get my own way, I'm viewing the people in my relationships as position holders and not friends. I'm viewing people as threats to my own power structure instead of thinking about how I can let go of my way, and let someone else have a say for a change. 

Submitting to others means that I am deconstructing the idea of social stratification. Even though on paper there are bosses and employees, CEO's and peons, janitors and presidents, wives and husbands, children and parents, and allies and enemies, we don't don't have to let these social strata define how we interact. Submitting to others means opting out of the bogus world system of worshiping at the feet of the elite, and throwing crumbs to the feet of the poor. When we're asked the question, "Who should we submit to?" the answer is . . . Yes. When we yield power to the people around us, and stop running the show, we're actually killing the system that for too long has deemed who should have the power and who shouldn't. 

One last note before I end this. Submitting is NOT being a doormat. Yielding power takes courage, and there is no courage in being walked all over. Sometimes, yielding power looks like resisting the urge to be taken advantage of. The desire to people please and be a doormat is sometimes more powerful than the desire to say no, and submission works the same there. Submission is about the heart. To the world, yielding power may look like being a robot, but the heart knows where it belongs. It belongs to the source of all power and mercy, love and grace. We know that our power doesn't come from humans, but from the deep, mysterious vitality inside all of us. What that power does when we get our hands on it is either enhance or conquer. The choice is ours.

Today's Action: There will be at least one instance today in which our plans get threatened by somebody else's. It may be about where to go to dinner, what to eat, what movie to watch, what project to work on, or what to do after work. When this happens, we courageously take a step down off our high horses and let the person "threatening" our plans have their way. See what happens!

Included (Easter - Day 29)

(Based on 2 Thessalonians 2:13-17)

Dear Friends,

We've got our hands full continually thanking God for you. Ya'll are awesome and so loved by God! God picked you out as his from the very start. Think of it: included in God's original plan of salvation by the bond of faith in the living truth. This is the life of the Spirit he invited you to through the Message that's been delivered, in which you get in on the glory of our Master, Jesus Christ.

So, friends, take a firm stand, feet on the ground and head high. Keep a tight grip on what you were taught, whether in personal conversation or by written word. May Jesus himself and God our Father, who reached out in love and surprised you with gifts of unending help and confidence, put a fresh heart in you, invigorate your work, enliven your speech.

                                                          Paul (with Silas and Timothy)

Wardrobe (Easter - Day 28)

(Based on Colossians 3:12-17)

I was talking to a recently homeless friend a couple of weeks ago, and he told me he had walked through Baybrook Mall. He was astounded at how many clothing outlets there were. He couldn't believe the amount of choices. Coming from a man who had spent the last five years without the luxury of choice when it came to clothing and brand name, I understood how he would be astonished at this sort of thing. 

Most of the time, we can look at what a person's wearing, and form an opinion of that person. If a person's wearing a suit, they have money. If the person's wearing a shirt with holes in it, she doesn't have much money. If a person's wearing Tom's, he's kind of a hippie and possibly a Liberal. If a person's wearing a shirt with an American flag on it, she's probably a Republican. If a person's wearing a shirt that says "Real Men Love Jesus," they're probably gonna try to convert me. 

Personally, I've always leaned more toward the cheap, "he doesn't have much money," style of clothing. I recycle my clothes for at least a week before going to wash. My socks somehow disappear, and I will use the same ones for days at a time. When I run out of clean underwear, I opt out and go commando for a couple weeks. I believe underwear are the most inefficient article of clothing man ever invented. Except for those few times that I wear the same pair two days in a row, or I'm backpacking in the Colorado wilderness, underwear just don't have much life in them between washes. Going without is very freeing. 

Paul talks about underwear. Actually, he talks about clothing. In the last passage, he talked about taking off old clothes. The old clothes were things like anger, intense sexual cravings, and meanness. Today, he's talking about putting on the clothes we were designed to wear. I guess we could call these God's designer clothes. Paul proposed earlier that labels don't mean anything anymore. Christian and non-Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, Republican, Democrat, religious, irreligious, slave, free, male, female, black, white, red, American, Mexican, etc. What matter now is what clothes we're wearing. He proposes that we have all been designed to wear the clothes of compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline, even-temperement, contentment, and forgiveness. The clothes are already in our closets, and it's up to us to put them on or leave them to collect dust.

Paul claims that we've already been saved from the punishment from our wrongdoings over the years, that Christ rescued us when he took all of our bullcrap to the cross. The work left for us to do is to experience more and more freedom here on this earth. That doesn't sound like work, but more like a gift doesn't it? Yet, it's a struggle day in and day out to choose the shirt of compassion over the shirt of intolerance, the blue jeans of kindness over the blue jeans of meanness. 

We get to put on a wardrobe that was specifically designed for us to gain all the freedom we could ever want, but it requires doing the hard work keeping our clothes on. Compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline, even-temperement, contentment, and forgiveness. Some of these seem to come naturally for me, and others seem out of reach, but Paul says that wearing all of them means that we are connecting to abundant life, this source of vitality and freedom that doesn't come when anger and discontentment are rattling our brains. 

Just to let you know, if you're the kind of person who actually has to practice being kind to others, you're not alone. For me to think of others before myself is work. It takes intention. It takes practice. It takes placing myself in second place. It's not easy at all. But, in the times that I actually do it, wonderful things happen that are usually not visible to the eye. Things like peace settle over my mind. Things like thankfulness fill my heart. Love feels more like it should be - like second nature. 

One of the practices I hold onto is something I've learned in my time of recovery from the self-centered manifestations of alcoholism. I'm going to share those here just in case someone may be looking for a way to "inventory" their wardrobe. Each morning, before I come inside to write, I ask myself the following questions about the day before:

• Was I resentful yesterday?
• Was I selfish yesterday?
• Was I dishonest yesterday? 
• Was I afraid yesterday?
• Do I owe an apology?
• Have I kept something to myself which should be discussed with another person at once?
• Was I kind and loving toward everyone?
• What could I have done better?
• Was I thinking of myself most of the time?
• Was I thinking of what I could do for others?
• Was I thinking of what I could contribute in each of my affairs?

After answering these, I thank God for his forgiveness, and ask what corrective measures I can take today. Usually, the things I struggled with jump out at me through the questions, and those are the things I will work on today. In this way, I am keeping track of "what clothes I'm wearing."

Anybody who says that being selfless or godly is easy is usually not telling the truth. These things are not simple fixes. They are embedded in our psyches, and it takes training to get rid of these clothes that we're still emotionally attached to. The real question from this point on is, "How much freedom do I want?" I'm spiritually hungry, and the only way to grow is to get rid of these things that are holding me back, keeping me from life. 

What Paul is not saying is that if we do these things, God will love us more. He's not saying that by doing these things, we will be forgiven. He's not saying that we'll earn a chair in heaven after we die. What he is saying is that there are practical ways to experience the true freedom of God. There are tangible ways we can connect to the intangible Spirit of the Universe. There are things we can do to connect with the things we can't see. 

Paul's Message is this: We have been saved from that dead-end life of chains. Jesus doesn't demand our chronic asking for forgiveness because he already did the forgiving once and for all. What Jesus wants for us is to embrace the endless amount of freedom that was unleashed at the cross and cemented in the resurrection. Religion and brand name denominations don't matter anymore. This kind of freedom threads through religion, politics, culture, ethnicity, gender, lifestyle choice, and vocation. It's a freedom available and ready for the taking for all who wish to begin the adventure of losing the old, worn out clothes. 

Who's ready to get naked?

Corduroy (Easter - Day 27)

(Based on Colossians 3:1-11)

Paul claims that when we get serious about what he calls "the resurrection life with Christ," our old life dies. Words like Christian and non-Christian, slave and free, man and woman, religious and irreligious, republican and democrat mean nothing to us anymore. What carries meaning now is how we're living out this new life. Things like bad tempers, sex with multiple partners, degrading other people, and intense lustful cravings are done with for good, being killed off. He portrays a list of things that are connected with death, or, the old way of life.

The only way I can really know how I'm doing with this new life is to ask myself how I'm doing in the areas Paul addresses: 

Am I killing off the practice of having sex with multiple partners? Yes. I have been monogamous.

Am I killing off the practice of causing harm? Yes. I still cause harm, but I'm causing it less and less.

Am I killing off intense sexual desires? I'm trying to. This has been the hardest one for the last year.

Am I killing off the practice of "doing whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it"? Slowly. I have a hard time finding the balance between "me time" and time for others, especially in the context of a romantic relationship.

Am I killing off the practice of grabbing whatever attracts my fancy? Yes. I've never been much of an impulsive buyer or attainer of "stuff."

Am I killing off my bad temper? I'm trying to, but I just can't seem to pause and take a breath breath before it happens.

Am I killing off my irritability? I'm trying to, and when I refrain from getting irritable the world looks bright and beautiful.

Am I killing off my meanness? Yes. I've gotten a lot better at not letting my irritability turn into meanness, although my coworkers may say differently.

Am I killing off my desecration of other people and things? Yes. I have stopped (for the most part) making wholesale condemnations of groups of people and beliefs.

Am I killing off my dirty talk? I'm trying to.

If I can take one thing from this passage, it's this: changing clothes is not a one time deal. Stepping into the new life of freedom is not an overnight matter. Maybe it was supposed to be, but that's not the case with me. I haven't killed off the connections I have with that dead-end life. 

Paul says that choosing to kill off these things are the byproducts of being serious about living a life of resurrection. He also says that when we choose this way of life, the labels we put on each other and groups of people have no meaning anymore. Instead of worrying about how Christian or how Jewish or how Muslim I am, I worry about how well I'm doing in "tearing off my old clothes." The reason we tear off old clothes has nothing to do with earning God's favor, or earning favor from others, but having an intense desire to experience more freedom, more life. 

Paul claims that "from now on everyone is defined by Christ, everyone is included in Christ." There are no discriminatory distinctions between people anymore. We are free. We are resurrected. Our old lives have passed away and our new lives are here. It's kind of like standing in front of a high-end retail store, staring through the window at a really nice sport coat. I'm staring at it, but know I'm not ready to get it. I've gotta get rid of the corduroy I'm wearing, and I don't want to because I've had it for so long. When I put change in my pocket it falls out because of the huge hole. It doesn't keep me warm anymore because all the inside has been torn apart from years of washing and drying. Yet, I still have this emotional connection with it that keeps me from being ready to just get a new one. 

The way God feels about me doesn't change depending on what jacket I where. The way I feel will most definitely change. I will see the world with new eyes. 

Fire!!!

When I got home from Da Funk
The next door neighbor was walking his dog
What's up?
Then the other next door neighbor popped out

Storming

He started hollering
There's an effin fight
In my house

I said
What's wrong
Do you need help?

It's because of you
It's because of you!
And your effin

Fires!!!

The cussing got worse
The words were very non affirming
I thought he might hit me
There's already been one fight

He was in a rage

My love language
Would be fires

The fire was honestly small
But the north wind did carry ashes
I hadn't realized it
Until it was too late

Today, I bought them a car wash card
And Kim threw in a candle as an extra gift
He brought the gift back

After he left
My dog walking neighbor
Looked at me
Wide eyed
He was holding a big black flashlight
Said he was ready to swing it

I thought
Next fire
I don't want to be here
I'll go to John's

I thought about placing the returned candle
In the place where the fire was
Let it twinkle all night
But that'd be cunning
That'd be war in the guise of peace

The last thing he said was - Grow Up

I think I do have some growing up to do
I'll take that as a word of correction
I'll finish my Non-Disclosure Agreement tonight

I don't like living next to an angry person
He told me not one week ago
That I could build fires
That it was okay

He thought it was a bonfire
It wasn't
The ashes just got channeled

I wish this wouldn't have happened

I wanted to make ribs for my father in law
But that would constitute making a fire
I don't like being in the backyard
I am very happy in my "man cave"

Chopping wood

Ritual (Easter - Day 26)

(Based on Colossians 2:8-23)

Standing on the stage, staring out at the hundred smiling, proud faces, I accepted the ring. As I looked into the eyes of my parents', and listened to the pastor explain what I was doing, I took the oath. The ring was slipped on my finger and I made the outer commitment of the inner desire to never have sex before marriage. The people clapped and took pictures, and proudly accepted another committed soul into the realm of sexual abstinence.

Walking up the aisle, emotionally convinced that I needed to get to "third base" in a relationship with Christ, I approached the youth pastor with several other kids. Moving to a secluded hallway, the Bible opened in hand, I repeated the prayers that would essentially enter me into a relationship with God and would wipe away all my sins as a rebellious, fussy kid. The pastor smiled and congratulated me on entering into a relationship with Christ.

White robe covering me, I stepped down into the warm water. The pastor grabbed me by the hand, leading me down. He placed one hand over my face while propping me up with his other hand. Falling backwards into the water, my body and face submerged as my "old life passed away, and new life began." Rising back up, the people clapped and took pictures and accepted another kid into the long line of "the saved."

If you're anything like me, you've taken some oaths in your life. Whether it was religion-based or promising to yourself that you would finish college in four years and no more, the pill was swallowed. The "new life" began. 

Never mind the facts that I would lose that promise ring, or that I would have sex hundreds of time before marriage. Never mind the fact that my sexual history would begin shortly after taking a solemn vow to not have sex before marriage. Never mind the fact that I would eventually trade the baptism of water with the baptism of alcohol. Never mind the fact that I would replace the secret mystery of Christ's acceptance of me just as I was, with a litany of rules that would make me acceptable to Christ. As long as the oaths were taken, I would be okay. As long as the pills were swallowed, things would be alright.

All around us, especially as young ones learning our ways around in the world, are narratives screaming and drawing us in, and pleading with us to take pledges, oaths, and vows when it comes to God, Jesus, and everything spiritual. Just follow me in this prayer . . . Just give twenty dollars . . . Just accept Jesus into your heart . . . Just ask for forgiveness . . . Just repent . . . Just find a church . . . Just come to small group . . . Just pray . . . and the list goes on and on and on. It's no wonder that the voices of the atheist and agnostic have begun to rise up and be heard. They may be in on something that those of us who have taken these solemn oaths have missed: They are seeking truth and not ritual.

Paul proposes a concept that is completely counter to what I grew up listening to as a child, and what I've believed most of my life. He says, "you're already in - insiders - not through some secretive initiation rite but rater through what Christ has already gone through for you, destroying the power of sin . . . All sins are forgiven, the slate wiped clean, that old arrest warrant canceled and nailed to Christ's cross."  

He continues to say not to tolerate people who try to run our lives, ordering us how to bow and pray and insist that we join their obsession with angels and that we seek out visions. He asks, "If with Christ you've put all that pretentious and infantile religion behind you, why do you let yourselves be bullied by it? Do you think that things that are here today and gone tomorrow are worth that kind of attention?"

Paul proposes that the reality of what Christ has done is being replaced by the rituals of what we do. From the oaths of accepting Christ, to the rules of what we can't touch, what we can't taste, and what we can't go near, the finished work of a compassionate and once-and-for-all forgiving God is being replaced by a God who just didn't do enough on the cross. The messages are all around us. We, the religious folks are hearing it. Those lucky enough to escape before the pills were distributed aren't hearing the narratives any longer. They are finding their own, and they may be finding that the narrative outside of religious ritual is drawing them to the source of power that we religious folks were trying to connect with the whole time.

Although I come off as crass and unforgiving, I believe religion is a very important avenue in which to connect with a God I can't understand. I believe it provides a way to flesh out the spiritual in a way that makes sense. However, when it starts to replace the very Christ who took all of our sins and put them away for good with the idol of cheap phrases and to-do lists, religion becomes "a dazzling array of big words and intellectual double-talk." The religious elite "want to drag us off into endless arguments that never amount to anything. They spread their ideas through the empty traditions of human beings and the empty superstitions of spirit beings." 

Paul is proposing here in Colossians that the message of Christ was, and is, never about our doing something in order to get something. The message of salvation and new life and forgiveness was never and is never about doing something to get something. We are already insiders, living testimonies of a God who loves us unconditionally and sees us as his beautiful children. The work that was completed doesn't need our phrases and oaths and pleas for forgiveness. We can open our eyes to the Christ already come, to the salvation already present, to the freedom already set forth, to the restoration already unleashed. 

The author claims that we have been saved, forgiven, and set free from our old, sin-dead lives. Our sins have been forgiven, our slates wiped clean, our old arrest warrants canceled and nailed to Christ's cross. The message is much simpler than than most of us want it to be. There's nothing we can do to cancel out what was already done, and there's nothing we need to do to add to it. 

Today's Action: Find the "common, spiritual ground" that we share with our coworkers today, and see what kind of dialogue occurs. 

Tapestry of Love (Easter - Day 25)

(Based on Colossians 1:24-2:7)

I get so wrapped up in theology, politics, and my own struggles that the simplicity of Christ's love becomes very, very complex. For example, when I look back over yesterday, for some reason my mistakes shine brighter than my successes. I twisted off at work and got angry . . . again. When I got home, I didn't do the schoolwork I was supposed to do. I procrastinated. Then, I looked at porn to top it all off. 

I woke up this morning with this overwhelming sense of failure. I wondered if I was manic - going from great emotional highs to depressing emotional lows. No matter how hard I try - and I try really hard - to do what's right and to love, it seems like I take one step forward and two steps back every time. My mind magnifies my failures as if they're the only evidence of my existence, as if they're the only gauge I can judge myself by. There's always something at war within me, whether it's anger or procrastination, or the baffling power of sexual fantasy. Days like yesterday provoke the voices in my head - the "shitty committee" - to begin counting my mistakes and reminding me of how messed up I am. Honestly, it wears me down to the point where I can't focus on anything other than . . . right now.

What is it that makes me hone in on my failures and not celebrate them? What is it that makes me put my mistakes under the magnifying glass, while leaving the successes to the side as if they don't matter?

Paul speaks of this "mystery" that's been revealed to us. The mystery, he says, is that Christ is in us, pulling us forward and preparing us to share in God's glory. He starts the passage off the talking about suffering. He's in jail at the time, so he's experiencing an immense amount of pain. He's probably starving, sleepless, and he's probably not getting fed much. However, he considers it a sheer gift to be able to experience the suffering he's part of because it enables him to help other people, and to lay out the whole truth. 

One of the things I love about Paul is that he doesn't hide his humanity from his audience. He knows he's a mess, yet it helps him even more in building a common sense argument to encourage his audience that Christ loves them just as they are. Paul, a former terrorist against the Church, is now a prevailing voice for the Church, and he embodies suffering and also hope. 

I was meeting with a pastor of a church in Texas City yesterday, and he said something that I could totally relate to. He said, "I'm pretty hard-headed, but if someone hits me with a hammer hard enough, I'll wake up." This is exactly me. Experience shows that the pain has to be big enough in order to learn my lesson and move on. I don't know if it will always be like this, but it is now. 

Paul uses a beautiful phrase to describe what it's like to be "awake" to the mystery of Christ in us. He says to be woven in a tapestry of love, and that when this happens, our minds will be confident and at rest, focused on the mystery of Christ. 

The voices in my head are not God. They are my own created personas of judgment. I give these things power time and time again, and just can't seem to keep them away. Yet, through all the judgment and self-condemnation, I can barely make out once again the still, small voice. It's barely audible. It says, "You are loved just as you are. You're perfect and whole, and I've got big plans for you. My grace is sufficient."

Today, I want to be woven into a tapestry of love. I want to spend less time judging myself, and more time being thankful for the mystery that is Christ. I want to celebrate my successes and my failures, believing with every ounce of my being that God loves me just as I am, and not as I think I should be. 

Today's Action: What does it mean to be "woven into a tapestry of love"? Throughout the day, before each conversation or action, try to ask, "What does it look like to love right now?" 

Natural (Easter - Day 24)

(Based on Colossians 1:15-23)

Paul claims that we have been brought over to God's side by Christ, and our lives have been put together, whole and holy in his presence. He also claims that all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe - people and things, animals and atoms - are getting properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross. So spacious and roomy is he that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding.

Outside the window I'm looking through, there's a tree lying on the ground. It's dead. Due to some strong winds recently, the barely standing tree was knocked down, snapping the bungie cords that held it together. It's been lying there for a few weeks. In a few more weeks, it will probably lose its limbs. A few weeks after that, it will probably start breaking apart. In a few more weeks, it will probably become worm food. A few weeks after that, it will probably be broken down into smaller parts. A few weeks after that, I will probably see something that looks like sawdust on the ground around it. A few weeks after that, I will probably find mushrooms and fungi near the trunk. A few weeks after that, I will probably only find a few remnants of what used to be a vibrant, growing tree. A few weeks after that, there will be green grass growing, possibly some flowers, where the tree used to stand. 

When I look at the window, I don't see a dying tree. I see a tree that is contributing to a vibrant, growing, energetic world. It's physical characteristics may be changing, but inside it are processes and chemical changes that are occurring that are going to provide sustenance and nourishment for the ecosystem around it. The physical tree won't last, but underneath the surface energy and forces are at work to benefit the life of the organisms around it. 

We don't live in a dying world. Our world is alive with energy, vitality, and processes that are contributing to life and more life. There is an endless cycle of life in the natural world that seems to get pushed under the rug when it comes to the topic of eternity. What is normal is life and energy. 

The claim that Jesus died for us, brought us over to God's side, and began the process of fixing and fitting together everything in vibrant harmony, shouldn't be that far off from what we witness in the physical world right in front of our eyes. We don't see the processes in dead trees that contribute to life in other organisms, yet we know it's there. We see grubs and fungi feeding off the decay, but we can't see how exactly that energy is turning and morphing into other energies. Yet, we believe it's happening. 

What if despite what we see in the physical world, we deny that everything revolves around life. What if I looked out my window, and I couldn't see the blue sky, hear the birds sing, see the fish jumping in the pond, or see the acres of green grass. What if all I was able to see was a dying tree that was meaningless, had no chance of contributing to the world, but was destined to die a miserable, purposeless life after a meaningless, purposeless existence? 

As with the natural world, there is a tendency to talk about salvation and eternity in a way that promotes this idea that everything . . . is . . . dying a slow . . . slow . . . death. 

Yet, we touch the grass, see the birds, and watch the fish. We see life replace death, and death contribute to more life. Is it possible that the story of Jesus is simpler than some narratives have put it? Is it possible that what we see in this life is no different than what we'll see in the next?

I wish I could say this conversation, being that it's completely philosophical and far-reaching, is irrelevant to real life. But, it isn't. The way we view the universe, and salvation, and God, and eternity, and redemption, and Jesus, directly affects the way we view real life. 

If we see real life through the lens of a dying world, things don't look too prosperous. It's hard to tell there's a vibrant world beyond the fallen, dying tree. If we look at life through the lens of eternal death, then it's nearly impossible to see the worms and fungi that are feeding off the nutrients in the tree to provide sustenance to other organisms, which in turn provides sustenance to even more organisms. 

When we see real life through the lens of a world that is constantly being restored, redeemed, and reclaimed, we see a tree that has spent it's time well, and is contributing to even more life to the relationships around it. It's death is a parting gift to the life around it, and though the physical features don't stick around long, the processes and events going on inside keep going, and going, and going. 

When we view real life through the lens of a God who is restoring all things - people, animals, and atoms - we find that the concept is no different than what we're used to seeing when we simply take a look out the window to the natural world. We love more. We promote life more. We think more about how we can add to our own lives as well as the lives around us. Believing in a God who is for us and has redeemed us, and views us as perfect and whole beings created in his image, just like the wildflowers in the meadow, rockets us into a dimension in which life is everlasting. 

Today's Action: Think about what it is that keeps us from believing in a God of restoration, a God who has made us whole, a God who has saved us from death. Do one thing today that promotes life, whether it be with a person or a plant. 

Dead Ends (Easter - Day 23)

(Based on Colossians 1:1-14)

So, it's Monday morning. Another week. Another weekend has blinked by. There's this moment right now, staring at the coffee pot, thinking, damn. I start daydreaming about better times, these times when work isn't a part of life, where work is actually play and there's no such thing as clocking in and clocking out. The drudgery. The endless routine. The futility. Geez!

My first year of working at the restaurant I'm currently at was like this . . . every . . . morning . . . every . . . week . . . day . . . after . . . day . . . after . . . day. 

Who came up with the idea that work was supposed to even be a part of existence? Who came up with the idea that we were supposed to work for someone, doing something in return for something else? 

But then there's those days, those crazy, euphoric, uber-spiritual days of work where it seems like things are exactly how they're supposed to be. Everything just seems to connect, and the boss affirms me and my coworkers and I get along, and we find ourselves finding a mission and a purpose and the stars align and we're finally figuring it out and then . . . another day. 

Is there any point in work besides doing something to receive something in return? 

As a fellow struggler in the reality of nine to five, or eight to four in my case, I'm always on the lookout for that thing I like to call "something more." What is it? Does it even exist? Is it attainable?

My friend Paul writes a letter to a church in Colosse (hence, the book is called Colossians). In this letter, he tells the people of Colosse that he's thankful for the reports he's received about how they've "kept their lines of purpose tightly tied." They're lines of purpose aren't growing slack, which means that the Message they received at some point previously had carried enough weight in their lives that it brought purpose into their daily activities. They saw a purpose in their work, and their work included everything outside of rest. 

According to the letter, Paul doesn't define what work is, but rather defines what it isn't. For Paul and the people of Colosse, there is this strength they have tapped into that gives them the ability to work thankfully and not through gritted teeth. It's a strength that "endures the unendurable and spills over into joy." This strength enables the people to take part in "everything bright and beautiful that God has" for them. 

When I read about people like this in the Bible, it's easy see all these folks in a vacuum. They're all crazy disciples who don't have to work, but rather live off the land and spend all their time in these communes where no one has to work but everything just sort of happens for them and they don't have to do anything like . . . work.

What I don't naturally do when reading passages like this is think about jobs and livelihoods and passions and families and movies. 

When Paul writes a letter to a church in Colosse, the people he's writing to are doing the same things that we do today. They have jobs. They are inter-generational. Some are rich, some are poor, some work at MacDonald's and some work as executives at large companies. They're all mixed together, and are carrying out their daily duties with "tightly tied lines of purpose." Why?

These are a people who have been freed from the dead-end life. They have been freed to work with purpose. No longer are they working tirelessly with a Roman boot on their neck, just to get through the day. The boot is still there, but there is a new found purpose. They have a Message to carry to their coworkers, friends, family members, and even their enemies. They've been "set up in the kingdom of the Son God loves so much, the Son who got us out of the pit we were in, got rid of the sins we were so doomed to keep repeating."

Now, I doubt that these people were experiencing Utopia. However, I bet they at least carried into each day a profound sense of purpose. Work for them didn't just happen at work, because they were on mission. The mission started upon waking up, and retired at sleep time. Work was mission. Work was spiritual. Work was love.

In a way, there is the work behind the work. We clock in and clock out, but just underneath there is this profound sense that there really is something more. There are relationships, there is this message, there is this undertone of the shared reality of life and finding joy in what could be mundane. There is this familial strength to continue on.

Don't get me wrong. I have bad days just like everyone else. In fact, I probably have more bad days than the average Joe. But, on those days that I can wake up to the reality that there is a Message to carry, a love to be shared, and a line of purpose to keep taut, joy spills over. I remember what it was like to have a dead-end life with no purpose and no work. For us, just like it was for the people of Colosse, we have been rescued from dead-end alleys and dark dungeons. We've been set up in the kingdom of the Son who's got us out of the pits we were in, gotten rid of the sins we were doomed to keep repeating. 

For the people of Colosse, work was the mission field. Whether it was clocking in and clocking out, or owning a business, or traveling on foot as preachers from town to town, it was all considered work and it was all considered mission. They weren't seen as separate entities. 

When we find our purpose, we find that everything is connected through that purpose, and it doesn't discriminate by geography or substance. Everywhere we are and whoever we are with, our purpose remains the same and we find that it isn't compartmentalized. Everything is connected with our purpose. At work or play, church or home, Denny's or the library, we have a Message to share, a line of purpose to keep tight. 

Because we've been set free from dead-end lives, we have the strength to endure the unendurable, have wise minds and spirits attuned to our purposes, stick it out over the long haul, and take part in everything bright and beautiful. Because we've been rescued from the pits we were in, we can find brightness and beauty in our work.

We have the ability to go into work today with attitudes of joy and gratitude. We have a Message to share with our coworkers. And when we get out of work and go on to our next work, we have a Message to share. And when we leave that work and go to our next work, we have joy and love and a Message to share. Everything is spiritual, and we spend more time at our jobs than anywhere else. Our coworkers are like family to us. We have the profound ability to push each other to tap into the strength that enables us to endure the unendurable, and to shift from gritted teeth to unending joy. 

Today's Action: On the way to work, ask God for one mission at work. Pay attention and take part in whatever mission that is. Try to be as grateful as possible throughout the day, realizing that work is spiritual and is just as much part of our purposes as anything else. 

Mainstream Leadership (Easter - Day 22)

(1 Peter 5:1-11)

As I read today's passage out of 1 Peter, I thought of all of us who feel like the systems of leadership inside and outside the Church can't be trusted. Whether it be because of negative experiences with religion or the countless portrayals the mainstream media has given us of bad leadership, we just don't trust our leaders. And, there's good reason behind it. People are waking up to the reality that things just aren't the way they should be. More and more people are developing their own consciences and belief systems, and are trying to find their own way. 

Their is corruption in every system made by man. Whether we like it or not, there is deception, secrecy, and backdoor deals. In the Church, outside the Church, within business, government, and the education system. We have learned to live with it, but how long do we push it aside and wait for it to get better? 

I believe good leadership is an essential part of participating in God's ongoing restoration in the world. It's equally important that "followers" don't blindly accept whatever it is that comes from the mouths of our leaders. There is a balance here that must be found if the American Church is to reclaim relevance and meaning. Peter outlines beautifully his mandate for what a good leader looks like, and I'm going to list those characteristics here. As we read through the list, may we ask ourselves the following questions: (1) Who do I consider my leaders, or who do I look up to as an authoritative person? (2) Are the people I look up to good leaders according to Peter's definition? 

If we are leaders (and I would say all of us are), it would do us well to ask the following questions: (1) Which of these do I do well? (2) Which of these do I need to work on?

Here is Peter's definition of a good leader (listed in order according to the passage):

1. They do not hide from suffering.
2. They believe there is meaning in suffering, and have hope that restoration will come.
3. They care for "God's flock" with all the diligence of a shepherd.
4. They care for people because they want to, not because they have to.
5. They don't calculate what they can get out of caring for people.
6. They act spontaneously when it comes to caring for people.
7. They don't bossily tell others what to do. 
8. They tenderly show others the way to handle hard situations.
9. They are down to earth.
10. They are not proud, but plain, ordinary people.
11. They are content with who they are.
12. They don't put on airs.
13. They live carefree before God.
14. They keep a cool head.
15. They stay alert.
16. They keep their guard up.
17. They keep a firm grip on their faith through suffering.

About a year ago, I came across this passage, and it led me to completely redefine what spiritual leadership meant to me. What I had previously thought of was not adequate in light of how Peter outlined it, and it was harming me to remain stuck in my old box of what leadership should look like. I want to expound on this a little more. Just because someone holds a high position does not mean that the person is a good leader. Just because someone is nice does not make them a great leader. For a long time, I placed the leaders in my life up on a pedestal because they had a "higher status" than I. I didn't want to be like them because they were good leaders. I wanted to have the status they had. What I was missing was intimacy and someone who would challenge my own status quo. What ended up happening as I sat down and thought of people who I thought matched up pretty well to this list was, the faces of those I considered leaders changed.

At the time I honestly redefined who the leaders were in my life, I came up with one person. I knew of one person who fit the bill, and this person didn't even have a home church or a certain theological stance on anything. However, I wanted to be like them because they embodied what Peter describes as good leadership. 

Those of us who want guidance and like to have someone in our lives who push us to be more than we are, and challenge us in ways that we can't do on our own, here is a message. It is not up to our current leaders to change their lifestyles on account of us. It's our responsibility to do whatever it takes to find good leadership. If we desperate for spiritual growth and hungry for greater things, we have to do the hard work of redefining what leadership means to us. Chances are, some of the people we call leaders right now are not going to be leaders according to Peter's definition. This also doesn't mean that we parade the aisles of our churches screaming for leadership reform. We don't leave our communities or disconnect from the sources of life that are still feeding us and giving us energy. We simply redefine who are leaders are. They may be in our communities already, or they may be somewhere else. Nevertheless, if we are hungry for something more when it comes to spiritual growth, we've got to find a rabbi, a mentor, a friend who will challenge us and push us to lengths we would have never thought possible. 

Today's Action: Using Peter's characteristics of good leadership, make a list of all the people we consider leaders in our lives. Take each name through the list, and measure them up. If our leaders don't embody what Peter describes as good leadership, then we think through all the people we know. Is there anyone in our life who does fit the position? Seek them out and ask them to be our spiritual leaders.

Sanctuary (Easter - Day 21)

(Based on 3 John 1-15)

When I first got sober, there were two families who took me into their homes. My two friends - Loren and Bryan - both welcomed me as family and gave me a bed to sleep in. I was living in an apartment at the time, and I didn't trust myself to live without someone holding me accountable. Alcohol and marijuana were too tempting and too available, and I didn't have enough willpower in the world to stop from getting what I wanted. The steps we took were pretty dramatic, but I was willing to go to any length to stay sober. I handed over the keys to my car, my wallet, and my schedule to these friends in the hopes of my mind getting clear enough to where I could get my life straight. During this time, I attended A.A. meetings and started working on the steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. At first, the fear of not being in control overwhelmed me. I felt cut off from the world, and it scared me. However, as time went by, I got on my own two feet again. I learned to slow down and to say no. I learned what it looked like to welcome someone into my own home as family. 

About a year and a half later, I moved into another family's home. This time, it was because I wanted to go back to school, but the only way I could pay for it was if I didn't have a rent to pay. Lacy and Lucas and their two girls gave me a room and treated me as their brother. I lived there for over a year, and because of their hospitality, I was able to pay cash and finish my associate's degree without taking any student loans. They held no expectations over my head. Whatever was theirs was mine as well. I was free to come and go, do as I wished, and they loved me just as I was and not as they wanted me to be. Anytime I was struggling with something, they would create time to talk and listen and love me through it. 

Because of the hospitality my friends have shown me, I in turn have learned what it looks like to be hospitable to others - to provide a room and a safe place. 

In third John, the author writes a letter to his friend, commemorating the work he's doing in the area of hospitality. He's been providing a bed and meals for travelers who are passing through the town he lives in. The author says that when he provides hospitality, "he's making the faith visible." He says that showing hospitality presents God in a visible way to the travelers. 

In contrast, the author speaks of another man who is living in the same city. He likes to "be in charge of everything," and refuses to let travelers stay in his home. He even talks to his neighbors and tries to convince them not to let people into their homes, and goes to the lengths of kicking people out. 

In the comparison between the two guys, the author describes one as evil and one as good. Offering hospitality represents this ushering in of goodness. On the other hand, the author describes this other man's refusal of hospitality as evil. 

Christianity around the time of the author was very nomadic. Because of harsh persecution under the Roman Empire, Christians had to move around in discreet groups and do the best they could to find shelter during their travels. Since they represented opposition to the dominant system of government and spread a message of freedom and salvation apart from Caesar, these were marked men and women. Refusing to provide room and board on their travels meant refusing them safety from a harsh, oppressive, and evil government that had its mark out for anyone refusing to bow down. 

In context, showing hospitality meant providing shelter to refugees, to marked men and women with bounties on their heads. In our day, obviously, the government in America does not have a bounty out for the heads of Christians. In other countries however, this is not the case. According to www.listverse.com, the top ten most dangerous countries for Christians are: Laos, Uzbekistan, Iraq, Yemen, Maldives, Somalia, Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan, Iran, and North Korea. In most of these territories, Christian churches are forbidden as well as any form of literature. 

In the context of the scriptures, hospitality is against the law. So, offering up room and board is actually going against the unjust system of the Roman empire. Since America has no laws against Christianity, hospitality in that context does not fit today. However, the principle behind hospitality remains the same.

When we offer up hospitality to strangers and friends, we are making the faith visible. But, if we were to take the context of the passage and fast forward it to today, who would the "illegal Christians" be? In my opinion, they would be foreigners who have immigrated to the U.S. Offering hospitality to Christians in the time of the author's writing would be like offering hospital to "illegal immigrants" today. We would be offering shelter to someone traveling through, providing a safe place for someone who is outlawed by the empire. More importantly, we would be showing them that we do not adhere to the unjust laws of the prevailing system and our faith would be visible to those who are trying to make it in the midst of an oppressive, hostile system. 

Whether our hospitality is offered to Christians, strangers, atheists, undocumented foreigners, or hurting family members, it represents a very good thing. Opening up our homes to people makes our faith visible and instills pockets of inclusive community in a world that is very much exclusive. I love the idea of couchsurf. com and other organizations that have expanded on the idea of hospitality and are making breakthrough accomplishments in this realm of love and service. 

What I don't think the author is saying is that we go out and look for people to bring into our homes. I think he is simply saying that when the opportunity comes, we are to welcome them into our homes. We are to welcome them into our families and lives. In this way, we offer up sanctuary to people who would otherwise have none. Whether it be the tortured soul or the literal homeless, we have much to offer in the way of a bed and a shower. We have the opportunity to present God in a way that is practical and tangible, full of interaction, and very counter to the exclusive American Way. 

Today's Action: Make a decision to open up our hearts and our homes to someone who is looking for a safe place to stay. Ask God for the opportunity and see what happens. 

Charlatans (Easter - Day 20)

(Based on 2 John 1-13)

    I was doing some research on the different cultures of Christianity around the world, and I found a very interesting statistic. According to a study conducted in 2011 by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life, "there are reported to be 41,000 Christian denominations" around the world. I thought this was very interesting, considering that as a citizen of the "Bible Belt," it's seemed that most of my life I've heard one basic narrative of the scriptures. This narrative places a lot of emphasis on hell and heaven as being two places somewhere other than here. Considering the proven fact that no one has lived to talk about either of these two places, it's very surprising that this narrative has become the foundational narrative of the American Christian South. But, when you put that up on the corkboard with 40,999 other Christian narratives, it reminds me that what I hear being taught about Christ is but one narrative in this ever-unfolding story of how people are trying to connect with a God they cannot see or understand.

     What John wants to get across to his audience in this passage is that there is one ultimate command that wraps everything up from the beginning: love each other. He says there are "smooth-talking charlatans" who are working their way into the spotlight, talking a good game but living something totally different. Does this apply to us today? I think so. 

     What I thought about when I was reading this was my first real A.A. sponsor. When I first heard him speak, I was skeptical to say the least. I didn't know him and I didn't trust him. However, every time I saw him he was carrying the Big Book. As the days went by, my skepticism went down because he was talking about things that came from the book he was carrying. He talked about things I had never heard of before because I had never opened the book myself. When life got hard enough for me (being a "dry drunk" as they call it in A.A.), I decided to ask this man to sponsor me. It only took one sitting to find out that this man's actions matched his words. He wasn't talking about things he didn't do himself or hadn't experienced. The work he did with me opened me up to a complete life change. He gave me a set of tools that enabled me to let God start changing me from the inside out.  

     I believe a lot of people who have been "turned off" to the story of Jesus and to the Church may believe there is only one narrative to Christianity. As it turns out, there are 41,000. However, the mainstream religious media makes a point not to rock the boat anymore than it has to. The singular narrative that we are exposed to here in the Bible Belt does noes not find room for the likes of folks like Joel Osteen, yet over 43,000 people attend his church on any given Sunday. Mainstream Christian radio and bookstores don't allow pastors like Rob Bell or musicians like Need to Breathe interrupt their narrative because it just doesn't fit nicely. 

     Media works the same way with religion as it does with politics. There are one or two main narratives that the messengers want the audience to hear, and there are usually consequences for those who choose not to choose one of them. 

     What John is saying to his audience, assuming that less accepted narratives are being cast aside then as they are now, is to love each other in spite of this. In spite of this. 41,000 narratives is the number of "recorded" Christian denominations, but if you were to interview every single Christian on a planet, there would be a narrative for every single Christian. No one believes exactly the same thing, no matter how dogmatic a group of people can become. If a person is honest with their belief systems, they will find uniqueness and similarities with the people around them.

    The difference between the author of this passage and myself is, I don't know which narrative is 100% correct and I will never know. The author presents the narrative "that Jesus Christ was truly human, a flesh-and-blood human being." I believe that. John was around when Jesus was around, and he talked with him and spent time with him. The audience he's speaking to didn't know Jesus and had never seen him, which makes his audience then very similar to the audience now. We haven't seen Jesus or heard Jesus talk, so we're given a narrative that we have the opportunity to believe or not believe. 

     He says there are people in this world who are talking a good game but refuse to believe in the exact things they're talking about. This usually means their lives are not matching their words. What does John say to do? He says to not "invite them in and give them the run of the place." He doesn't say not to love them. He says it would be stupid to let someone who is obviously not living out what they are preaching to come have authority and tell other people what to do. And, love.

    We are all trying to connect with this power source, this God whom we cannot see nor understand. If the narratives we hear seem to do more harm than good when it comes to a connection to this power, it's up to us to seek out a different narrative. Too common, people (including myself) have thrown the baby out with the bathwater. We've heard something that just didn't seem right, yet we allowed that one narrative to have precedence over all the others and determine our spiritual fate. In a way, we let the "charlatans" win. We gave them dominance over our religious and spiritual future. 

We are invited to dive into the scriptures with open minds and open hearts. There is a God who wants to connect with us in our own unique ways. This God loves us unconditionally, just as we are, no matter who we are or what we've done. This God has rescued us from having to rely solely on our skewed senses of morality and philosophical convictions to find our purpose. We have been rescued and redeemed and have the opportunity to participate in the narrative of God's ongoing restoration of the earth and it's people. 

Today's Action: Create dialogue about spirituality, or just pay attention to the different narratives that get brought up today - whether it be religion, politics, or beliefs. May we realize that what we think or believe is not the only narrative that exists.