The Gift of Desperation

Acts 2:42-47

When the 120 apostles were meeting in the upper room on the night of Pentecost, Jew outside who were on their pilgrimage to the temple in Jerusalem heard what was going on. Their heads were spinning as they were trying to figure out what was going on. They heard people speaking in their own languages, and they weren't on the pilgrimage. Something was going on in that room that was even bigger than the celebrated Festival of Weeks going on with thousands in the city.

Some were shocked when they heard it. Others assumed the apostles were drunk. When Peter overheard the accusations of drunkenness, he gave a dispensation that rocked the world of the Jews standing outside. Using the narrative that all of them were familiar with, he took the words of the prophet Joel and tied them into the current situations surrounding the death of Jesus. Using the scriptures the Jews knew like the palm of their hands, Peter helped them to realize they had nailed the One they'd been waiting for to a cross. They killed their Rescue.

When the Jews standing outside of the building heard the full discourse, all they could ask was, "What shall we do?" The ones listening and hearing what Peter was saying were in shock. They not only believed what he was saying, but immediately realized that they had condemned their Savior to death. Guilt pierced their hearts as they realized the crime they'd committed, and the desperation of pardon that filled their souls gave them the willingness to do whatever it took to right their wrongs. As devout Jews who knew how to follow the religious laws, they were bent on making wrongs right. So, Paul told them to start changing their lives right then and there, to believe in the Jesus whom they'd just condemned to death, and to be baptized. Then, he told them they'd receive the Holy Spirit.

But, it didn't stop there.

The desperation didn't stop.

The knowledge of what they had done didn't go away.

Their remorse followed them wherever they went.

They were willing to do whatever it took to right their wrongs. So, they:

Committed themselves to the teaching of the apostles.
Committed themselves to the life together.
Committed themselves to the common meal.
Committed themselves to the prayers.
Lived in wonderful harmony.
Held everything in common.
Sold whatever they owned.
Pooled their resources so that each person's needs were met.
Followed a daily discipline of worship.
Shared daily meals at home.
Praise God together daily.

The desperation originally caused by the guilt of having sent an innocent man to hang on a Roman cross turned into a desperation to know and follow that same man. So, it doesn't surprise me that almost two thousand years later I look around and wonder where this desperation went.

We look at how this ragamuffin group formed, and evolved, and committed, and lived, and write it off as a significant thing to do at the time. But, how can we blame ourselves or anybody else for not mimicking the goings-on of the early apostles and converts? They were desperate.

So, the question isn't, "How can we start doing what they did?"
The question is, "Where has the desperation gone?"

For them, their commitments together weren't just another ministry opportunity. It wasn't just another para-church organization. It was life and death staring each of them in the face. It was the guilt of knowing they'd done something completely wrong, and then wanting to make it right. It was the desperation of knowing that these apostles had something they wanted, and it had something to do with the man they hung on a cross.

I'm less concerned about starting another group that tries to live out what these early apostles and converts lived out, and more concerned about finding someone, anyone, whose desperate to make right their wrongs and to learn about this Jesus.

The closest I can come to this sort of desperation is my own life of alcoholism. When I walked into the rooms of A.A., and my mind started clearing up, I knew that this deal was much bigger than I had anticipated. I realized I'd been a tornado rummaging through the lives of everyone. I knew that if I didn't stick close to the people who'd been sober, I wouldn't have a chance. And, I later learned that if I didn't hold onto God, I wasn't going to make it. And so it goes. There's no cure for alcoholism, so alcoholics across the world meet in rooms on a daily basis, sharing their experience with the newcomer, sharing meals, and sticking together as if they were saved from a terrible shipwreck. To drink again is to die, so we stick together, trying to enlarge our spiritual lives to the best of our abilities. We have to let God take complete control of our lives if we have any hope of not drinking again.

It's hard to take my experience in A.A., then to step into a church building on Sunday, and not wonder, "Where's the desperation here?"

The people of Acts didn't just sit around and decide to start a commune. It was a response to something much, much deeper. It was the result of hearts and minds so stricken with grief that they were willing to go to any length to develop and maintain a relationship with the man they'd taken to the cross.

They were sorry for what they'd done, and wanted to know how to make it right. And, the results were: harmony, joy, celebration, growth, praise, giving, eating, and new life.

May we find the desperation necessary to share the kind of life that started in a quaint, upper room in the bustling city of Jerusalem.


 

Wind

Acts 2:1-4

Imagine being in a room with 119 other people, celebrating Christmas, and all of a sudden the sound of a gale force wind fills the building. No one can see where it's coming from or where it's going, and it doesn't appear that there is any visible wind at all. However, it sounds like the winds of a hurricane rushing through the room. Suddenly, you feel this rush of energy inside you and start speaking in Spanish. You've always known just enough to find a bathroom, but for some reason you're fluent. You look around, and the people around you are speaking in other languages as well - German, French, Italian, and the more you listen the more you realize that every single person is speaking a different language.

It terrifies you at first, but at the same time there is a calm that settles over you. Something is happening and you can't even begin to describe it, but it's something important. You feel as though some kind of outside force is making a declaration of some kind. Everyone in the room has this same sense of awe and wonder, as this power or energy flows through the room.

The more you pay attention to what's going on, the more you realize that languages you've never heard of are being spoken. As you sit there trying to figure out what's going on, there is this feeling that something is being described here. A statement is being made. Dialects are being spoken by people who'd never heard of them, and it becomes apparent that a power bigger than any human in the room is trying to communicate. It's as if this power is saying, "Hear all of these different dialects? They represent the people of your community that you've never met yet. You've been expecting this whole time that the 120 of you will do something great, but I'm telling you that I'm going to use every ethnicity and every tribe to bring heaven down to earth. It'll be terrifying at first when you see that people you would've never thought would be included are standing by your side, helping you and contributing to the restoration I'm bringing to the world."

As you listen to your gut explain these things, you feel a sense of sudden empowerment and ambition. Something is compelling you to let other people know about what is going on. Something compels you to tell others about what Christmas means, and to go to any length to do it. Not only that, but something compels you in a way you've never known before, to love like you've never loved before. A movement is starting, and it's way bigger than you, way bigger than the group of people you're in the room with, even bigger than the city you're living in. You can feel in your bones that something paramount is about to start, and you get to be along for the ride.

Are you ready to rodeo?

120

Acts 1:15-26

In today's passage, we find what arguably is the first group of people who started the Church. There were about 120 of them, and they were meeting in an upper room of a house in town. Peter, one of the bolder ones, stood up among them and said, "You all know what happened to Judas. He took the bribe from the religious leaders which led to the arrest of Jesus. With that bribe, he bought a small farm. There, he killed himself. Now, we must find a replacement for Judas, and he must be someone who has been with us since the beginning." 

Noticeably, the first thing that had to be done in order to find the replacement was to get everyone in the same room. And, there were 120 people meeting on a regular basis in this room.

Next, all of them put their heads together and nominated two people: Justus and Matthias.

Then, they prayed.

Then, they drew straws.

And, Matthias won.

Everybody had a say. Everybody was part of the election process. Matthias represented the decision of the 120 people standing in the room that day. There's no mention of an inner group of elders making the decision. The author clearly states that the candidates were nominated by the people of the Church.

And this brings me to an important point: The Church of Acts was not a business. There was not a president, CEO, or hiring staff. There was not a behind the scenes meeting with the paid staff of the Church, in which they chose a handful of candidates and then brought them out to the people to let them select the best. No, the entire process was done in the open with everyone involved. From point A to point B, 120 people nominated and elected a replacement for Judas. 

So, this is how we should elect leadership positions according to Acts:
1. Get everyone (even if it's over 100 people) into the same room.
2. Let everyone (even if it's over 100 people) nominate the best two candidates; by the way, they were picking from among and not from outside.
3. Pray.
4. Draw straws (in other words, have everyone do a secret ballot and then do a tally).
5. Introduce the winner.

So, my question is: Is this how churches do it today?

Energy

Acts 1:12-14

My friend Ben and I used to sit in the storage area of my old house and pray together. We'd pull up two chairs, look each other in the eyes, and do the best we could. By no means were we spiritual giants. We each had our fair share of dragons to slay. We'd sit there in the musky, dark space full of spider webs, with no noisy distractions, and give it our best shot. We knew that we were running out of energy in our spiritual lives, but in these times there was a sort of charge that kept us going.

We'd alternate praying for our friends, situations going on, ambitions, and I remember feeling like I had nothing else to hold onto. I displayed myself as a person who had it all together, unless I was caught in the moment of emotional reaction. My spirit was weak, as well as my emotional fortitude. What we each found in those times was a reason to keep going.

Our house was full of strangers we had picked up off the street. Our pantry was barren, along with our hopes of knowing for sure what it was we were doing. Our tolerance was non-existent. We were sick and tired of being sick and tired. Yet, the energy we found in merely lifting our concerns to the heavens was mystical.

In today's passage, we're told that the apostles left the Mountain of Olives and went to the space they had obtained for meeting together. Inside that room, they all agreed that they were in this deal for the long haul. Men and women both had found not only a reason to live, but a reason to live life to the fullest, and not give up. They were "completely together in prayer," as they committed to stick it out together through the thick and thin.

As I think about my life currently, I have to ask myself if I have made this sort of commitment with anybody. Who am I in this deal with? Who have I committed to living this thing out with? And, who am I "completely together in prayer" with?  This sounds like an action step to be taken.

I have a hard enough time praying right now on my own, much less with a group of people. But, if I remember correctly, there was a time when my friend and I found substance in prayer. It's easy to take a look around at all the religious bells and whistles, aesthetics, and movie-star appeals, and think, "How could this train have gotten so far off track?" But, the real question is, "Am I on the train going off track?" I'd rather be watching a train wreck than on the train that's wrecking. Yet, as a person who hasn't really committed with anybody to keep my eyes focused on the prize, and to stay connected through prayer, am I really on track?

I'm in community, yes, but I'm talking about the kind that's so intimate and so childlike that there are no plans besides moving forward another day, and praying. Evidently, the apostles thought it was essential for whatever lie ahead for them. They didn't even really know what they were committing to besides sticking it out through whatever lie ahead and praying together about it. If I want to continue in this story of Acts, I won't understand completely unless I too agree with someone else to stick it out and pray. So, we'll see what happens today.

Cigarettes and Groceries

Acts 1:6-11

 Just as I was walking inside to do this blog, my neighbor Mike walked up to the porch and asked a favor. He needed some cigarettes, and asked if I could bum him a couple. Knowing that a couple wouldn't last him until tomorrow, I offered to take him to the gas station to get a pack. So, we left. Along the way, he asked for another favor - twenty bucks for groceries. So, I gave him twenty and we went to the town grocery store. He didn't have shoes on, and I don't know if he owns any.

As we were driving, he told me that he and his wife are really struggling to make it right now. They were living in a hotel on the main street, but finally found this garage next door to me to move into. The landlord, who is my landlord as well, told them he could pay his rent my making improvements and repairs to her properties. So, he turned the garage into a full-blown apartment.

Mike is about sixty years old, has blue eyes, a scruffy white beard, and a great personality. He said he was about ready to go to MacDonald's to panhandle, but decided instead to take a walk of faith up to my porch.

The words of today's passage were rolling through my head as we drove. The disciples asked Jesus, "Are you going to restore the kingdom back to Israel now? Is it time?" Essentially, they were asking, "Ok, now that you've done your deal, what's in it for us?" The apostles were waiting on a power shift. Finally, they though, the power held in the Roman Empire will be handed over to the nation of Israel. But, Jesus had other thoughts. "No, it's not your business to be thinking about the time. Your job is to go out and be my witnesses. I'm sending my spirit to help you."

Whenever I have these encounters with people, there's always this tension of purpose. Is my job to tell them about Jesus? Is my job to invite them into Christianity? Is my job to be a friend? Is my job to be a banker?

I believe the disciples had a different agenda than Jesus did at this occurrence in time. The disciples were thinking about power. Jesus was thinking about restoration. The message we carry is the good news that peace has infinitely been made between God and man. Reconciliation has happened. Salvation is here. Restoration is unfolding. So, when people like Mike show up at our front porches, we can confidently say, "Yes." We believe that all of creation is being restored back to the way God intended it to be. So, little things like twenty bucks and cigarettes become small parts of a great whole of restoration. It's not about getting people to join our clubs so they can become more powerful and more expansive. It's about noticing the small, seemingly minute opportunities to take what God has already done through Jesus in making infinite peace, and sharing that with the world around us.

The agenda of following Jesus is not about making an already powerful institution more powerful. It's about taking the peace that God has made with mankind and giving it away.

Washed

Acts 1:1-5

When I was in Costa Rica, I visited Playa Hermosa during the last days of our trip. The sand was black, and the waves were monstrous. My buddy and I had a frisbee with us, and decided to start throwing as we stood ankle high in the water. Just a few hundred yards out, the white waves crashed. They looked like they were twelve feet tall, and there was this inner fear in each of us. There was this tension between staying in the ankle high water, or moving out a little deeper. As we threw the frisbee, errant throws kept moving us further out.

Pretty soon, we were treading water. Treading is an understatement. I found myself going from a friendly game of frisbee to a panicked, desperate, cry for help. As the water picked me off the ground like a conveyor belt, I knew what was coming. I and the monster waves were gravitating towards each other. Moments later, I lost all control. The first round of waves lifted me, then pounded me back into the sand. I had no option but to let it take me. I was scared shitless. I had moments to breathe in the process of being lifted, then as the water slammed me back down, I held my breath for what seemed an eternity.

Coming back up for air, I looked around to make sure my buddy was nearby. He was, and I yelled at him, letting him know that I was in trouble. He made his way over, and I latched onto his arm. I probably put him in a dangerous position, but he was much bigger and stronger than I. He dragged me to shore, and my heart gradually calmed down. I literally thought I was going to die. That's what it feels like when I lose control.

Perhaps this situation is not much different from being washed over by the spirit of God. I see it coming, but am not willing to get just deep enough to let it take control. I may drown. I may not be able to hold my breath long enough. I may die. I won't be in control. Yet, my way isn't working. My will ends up hurting me. I need to be washed over, filled, and given new life, but the waves are so damn intimidating and scary.

Why I'm Like a Cockroach

James 1:19-27

I live in a trailer that's about fifty years old, and with it comes an abundance of cockroaches. I've heard there's a bunch of crime that goes on in this community, but I haven't seen it. I've heard that gambling stings and prostitution raids have gone on here, but I haven't seen them. The only thing that terrifies me about this town is the roaches deciding to make their home in my home. Better yet, I think I may have made my home in the roaches' home.

For all I know, I could get onto Wikipedia and edit my own little entry about Bacliff, Texas. It would say something like this: "This city is quite possibly the state capital of cockroaches."

As I write, I'm glancing over at one. Because of my frequent contact with these nasty things, I've learned something. Roaches don't die on their feet. If you were to come visit, you would find about thirty roaches littered around the floor on their backs. The one I'm looking at right now is on its back, waving its legs in the air, and I'm assuming its gasping for breath in only the way a cockroach could. Normally, I would have stared at it for five minutes figuring out a plan of attack. Now, there's a lot of detail that goes into a plan of attack like this. The idea of using my foot or anything less than five feet long to smack the roach terrifies me. What if it decided to give one last burst of life and jump on me? I don't like taking the risk of a roach touching me - at all.

After developing the plan of attack, I usually grab the broom since it's the longest weapon I have. Then, using the horse hair bristles of the broom, I bristle the roach to death or near death - just enough to where I can sweep it into the dustpan and send down the toilet to join the plethra of dead roaches infiltrating Bacliff's sewer system.

With all that said, I'm letting this one go. Why? Because, in my roachy experience, once they get on their backs they die. They move for awhile as if they think they're going to live, but they die. For some reason, they can't turn themselves over. They have no amount of willpower that will get them into the action of standing back up and terrorizing me in my sleep. This one isn't a threat, although my mind tells me it is, but that's all unrealistic fear.

R.I.P. Roach

The author of James says that real religion is reaching out to the homeless and loveless. It's taking belief and turning it into action. It's taking the tests and challenges that come my way, and instead of getting into a position on my back and waiting to die, standing on my feet and waiting to live.

I've had a hard time with this lately. For a person who spends a lot of time in the scriptures, I have to tell you that much of it is mostly religious talk. Most of the time I'm talking about things that I merely wish to do or want to do. I hear the commands, the principles, and the truth, but once I walk away from it I forget who I am and what I've just read. There's a big connection between my ears and my heart. If there's no heart in what I'm hearing, it fades away as quickly as it came. If there is heart, then the process goes way further than hearing. It turns into doing. I've been stuck on my back waving my legs in the air in self-pity, something I'm sure this cockroach can relate to.

So, how could reaching out to the homeless and the loveless possibly be a solution to the problems I have inside of me? I believe it's in the meager attempt to get out of myself in even the slightest ways, that I begin to breathe in true life. Lately I've been choosing to wait for a handout from God. I haven't had the slightest desire to get into action. I've wanted to lay in the dust and see if anyone notices me as I run out of breath.

So, today, I'm going into the day acknowledging that I can continue laying on my back in self-pity, or I can reach out to someone who needs it. Reaching out means getting out of me. When I get out of me, it allows God to work in me. It gets me out of God's way. We'll see what happens. As for the roach, I'm gonna let him die while I'm at work and put him down the toilet when I get home.

Leering

James 1:13-18

So, when I'm preparing for bed, and my mind starts throwing around those sexual thoughts - the fantasies of a better life and a quick solution to all of my day's problems - is it the so-called devil?

If so, what is this devil?

I grew up with this notion that every bad thing came from one source, and the cartoons I watched depicted a red, dragon-looking being with horns and a pitchfork. The words Devil, Satan, and Enemy were thrown around so much that I couldn't help but rename this malicious, invisible being the Great Scapegoat. And that's what the devil was to me. He, or it, was - and mostly is if I'm not ready to pick up a pitchfork myself and get to work - the source of all my lust, sin, and badness.

The author of James, however, has a different way of looking at this problem called lust, or the "quick-fix," or sin. He says there are two temptations partnering with whatever temptation we may be facing at any given time. And, by the way, temptation is not the act of doing wrong. If the wrong is already happening, there is no temptation. The temptation came way before when I decided to escape whatever problems I'd been facing - or, prematurely exited any tests and challenges I was facing.

The two temptations that come with that premature exit from "letting tests and challenges play themselves out" are: crediting God as the source of the test, as if God is really affected and by evil and needs to use evil to get us straight; the other temptation is crediting this red-skinned demon with a pitchfork for making us do it -whatever "it" is.

James smashes both of these conceptions. He says, "We have no one to blame but the flare-up of our own lust." In other words, while the Great Scapegoat and God may both work well for awhile when it comes to pawning off my lusts and temptations, in the end I am the one to blame for whatever problems befell me.

James goes on to compare the objects of temptation with the God who gives desirable and beneficial gifts from Heaven - this idea that there are real and lasting gifts available should I choose to not exit the game early and take an easier solution.

Although James is not only talking about the sexual kind of lust, the sexual kind applies to me right now. For awhile, I was so diluted by the incessant flare ups of my own desires, that I would look at porn and then thank God for the gift. In my mind, if I was considering it a gift from Heaven then it would all be okay. But really, what I was doing was crediting God as the source of a gift that would continue to turn its back on me, convince me it was good, and seduce me to crawl back into its presence every chance I got.

By saying "Thank you God for the gift of porn," I could justify and rationalize the "gift" that would become my enemy. In the end, there really is no one to blame but myself for both the temptation and the action.

So, what are these gifts from heaven, and how do we get them? Unfortunately, James doesn't give us any codes or instructions on how to break into that safe. But, he simply tells us that to "not prematurely exit our tests and challlenges," and to "trust God's judgment over our own" leads to full life. This full life is the opposite of the next morning hangover from whatever emotional, physical, or sexual outburst had the night before. This full life is the reward of not taking the quick-fixes that call for our attention moment after moment, day after day. This full life is what I'm after. How about you?

Atmosphere

 I wonder if the God who breathes life into me every day is even noticeable to the people I interact with. I wear my defects like my work uniform, and I just wonder if I'm even remotely close to the life that God invites me to live. Are their equal amounts of good and bad, or does the selfish part of me far outweigh the parts that find small windows of compassion and mercy?

I'm a leader who can't even lead himself, a philosopher who can't keep his own belief systems from crumbling, a child of God who thinks he's a man after God's own heart.

I've created my own crimes along with their own appropriate punishments, and am living in the tension between falling completely into the arms of God and saying, "Screw it all." My mind can't be trusted even in the moments when it seems a little more mature than yesterday, yet I still think I can get by relying solely on it. The days of waking up with an inspired lease on life have been few and far between as of late. In fact, I don't really know how long it's been. I just keep waking up, keep going to the word, keep praying, keep struggling, keep talking, keep writing, keep meditating, keep working, and the days blur together. Weekends become weekdays and weekdays become weekends with no break between.

Getting into the stride with God seems like a mountain I can't climb. I'd rather pontificate and argue about who God is or the proof that God even exists instead of tethering myself into the rapelling ropes and climbing into the foggy distance. But, to get that elusive second spiritual wind, the climb is required. I have to do some climbing.

It's gotten to the point where it doesn't matter if the footlights are in front of me - my attitude is turning sour. Whether eyes are on me or not, I am a broken species of a man controlled by lust, power, and fear. The alcohol is gone and that's a miracle. I haven't screwed anybody over lately, and that's God doing for me what I can't do for myself. I see the glimmers of heaven on earth everywhere, and that in itself is a far cry from the hell I used to make my bed in.

It's the atmosphere that's not right, the atmosphere I'm looking through to see the world. I'm looking through an atmosphere of fear. In my experience, it can be one or the other - love or fear. If the atmosphere I'm looking through is made of particles of fear, love is absent. But who or what can change my atmosphere if I'm the one that can't get my mind straight?

The same God who's delivered me from the prisons of yesterday can deliver me from the prisons of today. It's a journey, not a sprint, and I need an atmosphere change. I need to strap myself in and start climbing the mountain, and stop caring about whether I can see the top, much less the few feet in front of me. I need to stop letting my need to experience God tangibly suck the energy and desire from experiencing God emotionally.

When it comes down to it, it's me I need saving from. God, save me from myself. May I once more be a vessel in union with you, a display of your love, your compassion, and your forgiveness. May I once more be a person who becomes invisible due to your attractive light shining through me.

Creations (Ordinary Time - Day129)

2 Kings 23:36-24:17

I'm currently investing my time and efforts into building a community of people that has fun together. Sounds pretty simple and boring probably. The truth is, it takes a whole lot of work. But really, the work has nothing to do with the outcome. It has everything to do with fear. I'm afraid that it's gonna fall apart. I'm afraid that people aren't going to like me. I'm afraid of me.

Just like with anything that we create (or try to create), there is a sort of emotional roller coaster that goes along with it. I start creating, planning, and forming a vision. I start picturing the vision, constructing the details in my head. Then, once the picture is vivid enough, I'll start writing stuff down. Then, I'll start turning the writing into tangible action.

The emotional part of it threads its way throughout the whole process, and doesn't go away. There's a constant tension between wanting my vision to play itself out perfectly, and being open to ideas and suggestions that are not part of my original plan. I have two options, I think. I can continue holding so tightly to my plans that I ignore the suggestions and ideas of other people. In other words, I become the dominant ruler. Or, I open myself up to other ideas, and make my ideas vulnerable to change. In other words, I become humble.

My history shows that I spend way more time shutting myself off to outside opinion. However, over the last couple years, I've learned that holding on tightly and letting go are part of process of creating anything. The point of creating is not to rule others with our creations, but to bless others and to let others in and invite them to create with us. No matter what it is we're creating - artwork, communities, philanthropic endeavors - there is always a phase of holding on with iron fists to our visions. I am great at this.

However, I believe that as creators, we have a higher calling to expose our creations and visions to the criticism and contribution of others. Saying I believe this is much easier than saying I do this. The norm for me is to get a vision, create something beautiful, and then use it to promote my own glory. With this comes another norm - I get ruled in the process. When I use my creations to rule over others, and to promote my own personal agendas, I will get ruled myself. It happens every time. It makes so much sense in a world of self-preservation to work hard to get what we want, and then hold on tightly to it and protect it from our invisible and visible enemies. The problem with this is, we become so wound up by all the supposed threats against our creations that we spend most of our time protecting what we've created. Our creations end up turning against us and ruling us.

I want more than this. I don't want to be ruled by my creations. I don't want to always be on the lookout for threats against my creational security. I don't want to feel like I have to wrap my vision up and lock it up in a safe, protected from people who may have better ideas. I want my visions and creations to be open to dissection, question, and contribution. This is where I'm headed.

What would churches look like if vision statements were open to criticism. What would pastors look like if they were constantly placing themselves in vulnerable positions, having their ideas and suggestions exposed for voluntary dissection and disapproval/approval? It may not make so much difference on a grand scale as it would on a personal scale. I'm tired of being ruled. That's it. If I can replace a little bit of tyranny with a little bit of freedom, day by day, then I'm experiencing life to the fullest.

Today's Action: What are our current visions and creations? Are we holding onto them with iron fists? Are we using them to promote our self-interests? Allow someone today to dissect our creations/visions, and find out if we're ruling to bless ourselves or sharing to bless others.

Smashing Shrines (Ordinary Time - Day 128)

2 Kings 23:4-25

When I first stepped into Alcoholics Anonymous, I had no intention of doing the things that I now look back on and go, "Wow." I never planned on having my whole concept of God turned upside down. I never planned on going back to people I'd harmed over the years and making things right. I never thought that the solution for my battle with alcohol would have been worked out on a spiritual plane. I figured I just needed to learn how to stop drinking and I'd be good to go.

Alcohol was my Altar. I worshiped it every chance I got. Sometimes, I would literally get on my knees or lay prostrate, as the poison made its way throughout my bloodstream. The spirits would overcome me and I would become invincibly heroic, or mad, or anti-social. I lost the power of choice in the matter, crossed a line that had once been so obvious. Now, I couldn't not drink.

After about two years of a head full of A.A. and a heart full of misery, I realized that the alcohol was just a physical altar. It was a physical symptom of a much bigger, inward problem. The physical altar was merely an illumination of a much deeper inward altar - one that would be much harder to kick than the alcohol itself. It went deeper than the misery and depression. It went deeper than the anger. It went so deep that I couldn't have found the condition on my own. That's when I needed help.

King Josiah did some altar cleaning himself. In fact, he went all throughout Israel and smashed shrines, burned them down to ashes, and spread them in the Valley of Kidron. He did this for over ten years. And when he finished, he commanded the people of Israel to celebrate the Passover - that memorial of deliverance. The celebratory remembrance of God's deliverance.

For Josiah, destroying altars wasn't the means to the end. It was the first step in a process of heart change. Taking the altars away wouldn't have changed minds and hearts. Yet, it was needed in order to get to the heart change. The altars needed to be smashed and destroyed in order to get to the celebration of deliverance.

When I finally dove headfirst into A.A. and the twelve steps, the outlook looked doomed. However, the more I did work on my inside, the brighter everything outside became.

Physical altars are a symptom of inward altars, and unless we smash the physical we can't see inward. When we get inward, we find death preceding resurrection. We find a funeral preceding a party. Yes, it's a painful process. But, as we learn to live life without the altars we've become so accustomed to sacrificing to, we begin to see a reason to party - to celebrate. We begin to experience a real-time version of deliverance, a deliverance that's much bigger than us. Our lives begin to shape and form as we come out of our once permanent graves and walk into the sunlight for the first time.

So, behind every physical altar, there's a more subtle inward altar. If we can get the help we need to smash our inward altars, we will be celebrating soon! Life will become the party we'd never had. God will become the Deliverer to us, when once we thought that God was a far off being that had enough stuff to worry about.

Altar of Alcohol: Smashed ---------> Altar of Unforgiveness, Altar of Shame, Altar of the Fear of God: Being Smashed

Altar of Porn: Still sacrificing

Altar of Control: Still sacrificing

Altar of Cigarettes: Still sacrificing

What are/were your physical altars? Did they illuminate your inward altars?

Today's Action: Make a list of our physical altars.

Fantasy (Ordinary Time - Day 120)

2 Kings 18:9-25

     I have to believe that listening to the voice of God is actually a pretty simple endeavor. The scriptures refer to it as still and small, as well as loud and thunderous. So, as I sit here in the quiet, listening and writing, I need to talk about my life of make believe. It so happens that a mind of fantasy and an abhorrence to listen to the call of my heart are directly related.

    Religious media has turned the voice of God into a deep, booming voice that one must happen upon, search for, or conjure up as if the seeker is traveling down the yellow brick road looking for Oz. But, I question that. The God of the scriptures is not hidden, archaic, or lost, where only the pious professional has the key to unlock the door. No, the voice of the God of scripture is - I believe - the same voice that wells up deep within me as I prepare for bed and as I wake in the morning. It's the same voice that whispers when I'm about to talk down to my coworkers. This voice is more present and straightforward as the religious media would lead us to believe. This voice is my hope for experiencing reality, and not this fantasy world I have helped construct along with my earthly companions.

    When I choose to put the voice aside, as I've grown accustomed to lately, I'm choosing to live in a world of make believe. This world is full of picture-perfect women, from the ages of 18 to 45. All of my problems can be solved in this world, and all it takes is a computer-induced orgasm. All the while, as I sit and watch, and scour the pages of the Internet looking for the solution, the voice of reality gets quieter and quieter. The voice of fantasy, that obnoxious, pitiful voice that begs me to grab anything that can possibly make me feel good in that moment drowns out its counterpart.

    All of my problems are solved. There's no need to worry. I can even take the good feelings that I get in that moment and twist them around, justify them just enough to give a false sense of gratitude to the voice that was once so prevalent. But, the justification is futile. It only lasts about as long as the pleasure did. The morning must come, and the morning time is when I wake up reliving the horrors of yesterday - if there were any. And it's back to the drawing board. It's back to trying again to listen and stay connected to the voice that has depth and weight and permanent relief.

     When I refuse to listen to the voice of God, I'm refusing to live in reality. And, I have the power to choose which voice to listen to, at least for now. As it was with alcohol, there will come a time that I'll lose the power of choice should I continue to seek fantasy over reality. I can see it on the horizon.

    The voice of God, simply put, is that voice inside of us that we know is there. It's the voice of goodness, the voice that saves us from hurting ourselves and others, and pushes us to seek after the welfare of others, to help those in need. This voice not only calls me away from the perils of pornography, but gives loud warnings when I'm about to treat another person as if they're a lower brand of human than I.

      I can even listen to the voice of fantasy while I spew out pious platitudes. My words can sound right and good, but the true voice may have been snuffed out way before this conversation ever happened. I can speak enthusiastic words of reality while my heart and mind chase "better" versions of fantasy in public or behind closed doors. I, as the hearer, am the only one who knows where I stand. You, as the reader, are the only one who knows where you stand. What is the result from chasing after the voice of fantasy? Essentially, captivity. The result of investing everything into hearing and living the voice of God is freedom.

    Today's Action: Pay attention to the voice of goodness, the one that pushes me to create harmony and to walk on the road of freedom. Object the voice that tells me to chase after power, illusion, perfection, and pride.

Partnerships

(Taking a look at small group and church structure through the lens of A.A.'s Twelve Traditions)

"An A.A. group ought never endorse, finance, or lend the A.A. name to any related facility or outside enterprise, lest problems of money, property, and prestige divert us from our primary purpose."

    After A.A. had developed a repoire with the public, and was making real change in the world of alcoholism, the president of a liquor company decided it'd be a good idea to start a public relations campaign. "Who would be better to market the banner of responsible drinking than a real A.A. member," he thought.  So, the approach was made to the A.A. member. The job would pay alot, and the member would get their chance to carry the message. 

     After much deliberation, the A.A. member walked into the A.A. headquarters in New York, asking if there was anything about this job what conflicted with A.A. policies. There wasn't at the time. However, there was a growing sense that something of this sort needed to be established. People of A.A. thought about the possibilities of a liquor company partnering up with A.A. to spread the message of responsible drinking. The more people thought about it, the clearer it became that this sort of partnership wouldn't work, lest the public would be forced to perceive A.A. as an organization supporting the responsible consumption of alcohol, or an organization calling for abstinence all together. 

    What was realized through this decision was that A.A. could never lend its name to outside enterprises. Property, money, and prestige were sure to come into play when any partnership of this kind was made. So, the A.A. member opted out of the job, and A.A. continued to be its own entity. 

     As small groups and churches, I believe the same guidelines apply. How many times have we heard of partnerships between churches and outside organizations that have received media coverage, whether the attention was good or bad? 

    The way this tradition applies is: If we are in a small group that exists within the framework of a church, and we lend, endorse, or finance the church's name by partnering with an outside organization, we are taking the risk of letting problems of money, property, and prestige divert us from sticking with our primary purpose. It really boils down to how much the church or small group cares about public opinion. If it cares a lot, then the safe move would be to stay away from partnerships altogether. If it cares little, then have partnerships galore. If we stay out of partnerships, we don't risk the problems of property, money, and prestige becoming issues that sway us out of our primary purpose. If we create partnerships, it's better to have a plan of conflict resolution because conflict will arise. 

     My personal opinion is, it's very hard to create unselfish partnerships. For example, lets say a church decides to partner up with an organization that reaches out to the homeless. It happens to be part of the church's primary purpose. So, why not? Over time, the church realizes that it's motive was to preach, while the organization's motive was to feed. The homeless people one day thought that the church was trying to convert them through food, and there were obvious religious intentions. So, the homeless decided to move to a different organization that didn't try to win them over with their religious talk. 

    If the church would have chosen to only do food, it would have felt like it was missing one its key components, that of carrying its message. On the other hand, if the organization would have insisted that the process was already working fine, the public opinion wouldn't have been altered. 

    So, creating partnerships between churches and outside organizations is risky business that deserves a well thought plan of action and conflict resolution. 

Group Question: Does anything we do affiliate, endorse or bind the group, actual or implied, to any related facility or outside enterprise?

Personal Questions:

1. Should my fellow group members and I go out and raise money to endow several beds in our local hospital?
2. Is it good for a group to lease a small building?
3. Some people will stay around only if we have creature comforts. If this is what is required to carry the message to them, should we have these things?

Primary Purpose

(Taking a look at our small group and church structures through the lens of A.A.'s Twelve Traditions)

"Each Alcoholics Anonymous group ought to be a spiritual entity having but one primary purpose - that of carrying its message to the alcoholic who still suffers"

      As small group and church members and leaders, the question we can squeeze out of this Tradition is: "Have we really found a solution to life's problems through the Gospel of Jesus Christ? And, if so, is our primary purpose to carry that message to those who still suffer from life's ailments?" 

     We probably all remember what it was like when we first had that "burning bush" moment in which we took a long look at the many things that ailed us, and realized that something had to change if we were going to live peaceful, happy lives. Perhaps our lives took a turn for the better. Perhaps we dove into the scriptures for our first time, and never looked back. Or, perhaps, we had a spiritual experience and it lasted only a bit. 

     Whatever roads we've traveled, we knew that change could not come ultimately from outside. We admitted, and still do, that God started making dramatic improvements in our lives, but some action had to be taken on our parts as well. Otherwise, we knew we would lose what we gained in a matter of time. Therefore, we joined communities of people who were experiencing the same kinds of things. Maybe, after a time of getting comfortable and complacent, we asked ourselves, "Where has the desperation gone?"

    At some point in our spiritual lives, a transition is made from being desperate to escape the hell we've created for ourselves to being desperate to experience heaven on earth. The inner yearning for more and more freedom becomes paramount to all other interests. How do we travel this road of promised freedom and contentment? By carrying the message of how we were saved from a path going nowhere - a trail of darkness. How did we do it? By taking tangible steps through prayer, study, meditation, fellowship, and charity, we found the door to freedom and more freedom opened ever more slightly the more we invested in the things that mattered. 

    But, to think we could get by resting on the burning bushes of the past proved to be a pipe dream. The truth was, those moments had enough energy and ambition to help us take a first step. We needed to dive in headlong into the arms of God, which would require getting some tools to work with. 

    It's when I start to think that I've graduated into a life of spiritual maturity, that my life begins to show signs of the chaos that once dominated me. If I don't get out and carry the message to folks who are struggling through life hopelessly, I'll end up hopeless myself. For the small group or church, I believe the principle applies just as well. When we begin viewing our groups as having reached a certain stage of enlightenment, a point at which we can now rest assured that we are removed from ever having to experience the ails of the old life ever again, the collapse starts to happen. 

    It's imperative that we, as people who've been rescued from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and spirit, realize that when we are helping others we are really insuring our own personal and spiritual welfare. To think we are only teachers with nothing to tend in our own hearts is a dilemma that I see occurring constantly with religious organizations and literature. We've forgotten that we are just as close to taking that turn for the worst as anyone else. We've somehow managed to convince ourselves that we are safe and protected from the disastrous potentials of our own corrupt minds. 

    How do we safeguard against turning towards the life we'd only thought we'd left behind? Have a primary purpose and stick to it. Invest in it with every ounce of energy we can muster. A primary purpose is a mission statement about where we were, what happened when God stepped in, and what it's like now. For the Christian, the primary purpose is carrying the Good News into the world every chance we get. It probably helps to narrow this down to one or two aspects, like tending to the needs of the homeless or helping build clean water wells. Either way, we look at these opportunities of charity through the lens of "I once was lost but now I'm found, was blind but now I see." Our "foundness" and visibility are cultivated and nurtured through carrying this message to a world that still suffers aimlessly.

Group Question: Does our group do anything that conflicts with our carrying the Gospel message to people who want a way out of their misery?

Personal Questions:

1. Do I ever cop out by saying, "I'm not a group, so this or that vision statement doesn't apply to me."
2. Am I willing to explain firmly to a newcomer the limitations of our group's help, even if they get mad at me for not giving them a loan?
3. Have I today imposed on any group member for a special favor or consideration simply because I am a fellow group member?
4. Am I willing to help the next newcomer without regard to who or what is in it for me?
5. Do I help my group in every way I can to fulfill our primary purpose?
6. Do I remember that the old-timers in the group still have problems? Do I try both to help them and to learn from them?

Autonomy

(Taking a look inside of small group structure through the lens of A.A. Traditions)

"With respect to its own affairs, each A.A. group should be responsible to no other authority than its own conscience. But when its plans concern the welfare of neighboring groups also, those groups ought to be consulted. And no group, regional committee, or individual should ever take any action that might greatly affect A.A. as a whole without conferring with the trustees of the General Service Board. On such issues our common welfare is paramount."

     When Jesus sent out his disciples, I don't believe he formed watchdog groups to make sure the disciples were doing it right. There had to be a level of trust there. Jesus had to trust that his disciples weren't going to screw up the message he wanted to send out into the world. As so, churches that commission small groups as well as non-profits that commission branches have to be able to trust the people running these groups without being micro-managers in the process. 

     With that said, it is the responsibility of the members of the said group to take no actions that affect the common welfare of the whole. There is a balancing act that must be done here. 

     This tradition flies in the face of what I wrote two mornings ago. Although I was trying present a clear example of what happens when groups decide to have senators and not servants, I presented a negative picture of my church. I affected the common welfare of the whole. I recognize that as I write this morning. 

     Part of the joys of being part of a small group is the freedom that comes with it. We have the ability to govern ourselves. However, I've been part of groups that were strictly influenced by the church which commissioned them. The church didn't trust the people in the group, so established rules and regulations for the group to follow. In A.A., the only rule groups ought to follow is not affecting A.A. as a whole by its actions. The group does what its conscience says. 

     When a group becomes dependent on outside authority, its ability to make an impact in the world around it becomes constricted to the point of unconsciousness. On the other hand, when a group has a bone to pick with outside authority, chaos and division ensues. There's gotta be a balance here. Maintain autonomy and promote harmony. If the catalyst for starting a group is being "better than the rest," then the group is already off in a direction that asks for divisiveness.

     So, when a church or organization wants to make an impact in the world, and sends people out to make that impact, there's got to be a level of trust coming from the church or organization, and a level of responsibility coming from the ones going out. The church, in a sense, has to let go of control over the group. At the same time, the group has to "move out of the parents house," and become self-governing and autonomous, while maintaining harmony with the church or organization. The whole reason people get sent out from churches and organizations is, they have the characteristics and personality to really make a difference. So why bind them to a bunch of rules and regs? Let them do what they do best, and let them be responsible should they mess up and affect the whole organization. 

Group Question: Does our group do anything that does not conform to the principles of the organization and affect other groups or the organization as a whole?

Personal Questions:

1. Do I insist that there are only a few right ways of doing things?
2. Does my group always consider the welfare of the rest of the organization?
3. Do I put down other members' behavior when it is different from mine, or do I learn from it?
4. Do I always bear in mind that, to those outsiders who know I am in ___________, I may to some extent represent our entire beloved fellowship?
5. Am I willing to help a newcomer go to any lengths - their lengths, not mine - to grow spiritually?
6. Do I share my knowledge of spiritual tools with other members who may not have heard of them?

Membership

(Taking a look at small group and church structure through the lens of the Twelve Traditions of A.A.)

"Our membership ought to include all who suffer from alcoholism. Hence we may refuse none who wish to recover. Nor ought A.A. membership ever depend upon money or conformity. Any two or three alcoholics gathered together for sobriety may call themselves an A.A. group, provided that, as a group, they have no other affiliation."

     We've all heard - and possibly used - the terms "lost, non-believers, unsaved, and non-Christian." I know I've used them in the past. These labels have become our way of pinning down the people who aren't members of the club. We love to have qualitative measures by which to define people's relationship with God, relationship with us, and relationship with the world. Therefore, we can go down our list of what it means to be (fill in the blank), and if the person under examination doesn't line up with our core beliefs, we can confidently say that person is in or out. 

    The problem with this is, we can't know what only God knows. We can't read people's motives like a novel. So, when it comes to membership of a small group or church, we make requirements based on qualitative prerequisites. "When did you accept Christ? Do you believe A, B, C, and D? Have you been baptized?" It's our way of making ourselves feel better about who we're surrounding ourselves with. After all, none of us would want an undercover atheist among our ranks, right? 

     One of the things I love about my church is, there are no membership rules. Each person declares him/herself a member. There are no questionnaires or surveys to fill out. There's no giving requirement. The membership decision is left squarely on the shoulders of the individual. 

     But, this tradition goes a step further. Not only are there no membership requirements except the desire to stop drinking (which, in the religious structure would be like a desire to stop playing God, or a desire to stop being selfish), but since the leaders are not governors, no one can tell another member to do anything. No one can compel another to do anything, and no one can require another to give anything. No one can tell another to leave, no matter how disruptive, threatening, or abusive. 

     Sometimes, it's easy to get into the frame of thinking that says, "The problems are outside. They're not in here." And so, the mission of the church becomes to reach the lost. Over time, this can become a very conceited outlook. We can ignore or forget that we in the church are just as lost as anyone else, making our membership be the defining mark of who's in and who's out. 

    Last Sunday, our pastor introduced to us a couple that he and his small group had been helping out with for the past year. There were four adopted kids who required a lot of work. As the pastor introduced them, it became clear that they were gay. I could feel the tension in the room, or probably just inside myself. I'd never experienced this sort of thing inside a church building. 

    It was baby dedication day, and the gay couple wanted to dedicate their babies, and invite the community to help them raise their kids. One of the men even made a video for the kids as a way of showing his appreciation and love for them. The only desire the couple had was to show the love of God to their kids, and it was enough. There wasn't any need for a survey. It was beautiful. There wasn't a single objection in the community to take part in helping out the kids whenever possible, and the couple left with their kids that day experiencing the opposite of what they'd experienced in the past when it came to church. On one of the slideshows of the video, the couples' garage was spray painted with the words, "Kill The Gays!" Because they had been required to jump through certain hoops, and follow certain rules, they just didn't feel a sense of belonging anywhere they went. 

    The principle behind this tradition is learning how to let people decide for themselves if they're members or not. When we do this, we learn how to stop judging people based on appearance and action. We leave the judgment up to God, and learn how to function together as people who want to grow spiritually and communally. This principle overflows into every aspect of life where people are concerned. We learn to stop trying to figure people out, and start loving people where and how they are. 

Group Question: Does our group exclude anyone from attending the group?

Personal Questions: 

1. In my mind, do I prejudge some new members as losers?
2. Is there some kind of person whom I privately don't want in my group?
3. Do I set myself up as a judge of whether a newcomer is sincere or phony?
4. Do I let language, religion (or lack of it), race, education, age, or other such things interfere with my carrying the message?
5. Am I overimpressed by a celebrity, a doctor, a clergyman, an ex-convict? Or can I just treat new members simply and naturally as one more sick human, like the rest of us?
6. When someone turns up at group needing information or help (even if he/she can't ask for it aloud), does it really matter to me what they do for a living? Where they live? What their domestic arrangements are? Whether they have been to the group before? What their other problems are?