Dots

 

"Here is a simple, rule-of-thumb guide for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you, then grab the initiative and do it for them. Add up God's Law and Prophets and this is what you get."  Matthew 7:12. The Message.

"Helping others is the foundation stone of your recovery. A kindly act once in awhile isn't enough." page 97. Alcoholics Anonymous.

Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they steal from me.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they gossip about me.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they lie to me.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're republican.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're democrat.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they don't listen to me.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they don't agree with me.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're Christian.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they don't believe in God.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless the are Mormon.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're illegal immigrants.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're against illegal immigration.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're homeless.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're wealthy.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're snobby.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they deny me my rights.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they voted for Obama.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're on welfare.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're planning on having an abortion.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're gay.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're atheist.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're crazy Jesus freaks.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they constantly criticize me.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they take advantage of me.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're elderly.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're my boss.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're my coworker.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're cussing me out.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're police officers.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're sex offenders.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're physically abusive.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're alcoholic.
Treat others the way I want to be treated . . . unless they're politicians.

We've all heard the Golden Rule. Depending on what religion it is, it comes in all shapes and sizes but emphasizes the same general principle. But it's way easier said than done, right? 

I think the point of this age old principle is to get rid of everything after the dots. No more dots.

One of the hard things about writing spiritually injected articles is finding away to get a good word out but at the same time take my own message to heart and practice. It requires pointing the finger at myself and somehow sharing the message that there's something better - there's a better path, or way, or direction to go. 

I'm my number one critic, and my practice of the Golden Rule hardly ever stops before the dots.

Some characteristics that describe my interactions with other people on a daily basis: short tempered, intolerant, impatient, confrontational, controlling, selfish, gossiper.

But I never stop to ask myself the question, How would I want them to treat me in this situation?

I really don't want people to be short-tempered with me. Do they know who I am?
I don't want people to be impatient with me. Don't they know I'm doing the best I can?
I hate it when people are confrontational with me. Take a chill pill dude.
I can't stand it when people try to control me. I'm outta here!
One of the worst is when people gossip about me and I end up hearing what they said, and it's completely false. I can't believe they said that about me. 

And so everything's tit-for-tat. Person A does this negative thing, so person B does this negative thing, and all the while the stakes are getting higher and higher until the first person opts out. Person B wins!

I'm in the game. I'm neck deep in it. The dots are controlling me. The dots are the filter I see the world through. And I'm just as guilty as the people who I think are the worst at pointing the finger. I'm just as guilty as the people who I think have it all wrong. 

I'm gonna use one of those there's two kinds of people in the world quotes right now, so get ready . . .

There's two kinds of people in the world - the initiators and the reactionaries. 

The initiator asks the question, What can I do to make peoples' lives better today?
The reactionary asks the question, How are people gonna make my life worse today?  

I'm a long time reactionary who longs to be an initiator. It seems to be complicated and out of the way and against the fabric of my being to actually take the initiative and say and/or do loving things for people, especially at work. For some reason, there's this disconnect between what I want to do and what I actually do. 

The wiring's off. The computer's malfunctioning. 

Today, I wanna erase the dots. I need a new filter because it's overused and not doing its job. 

God help me.

Journey

"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Matthew 7:7. American Standard Version

"More and more, we became interested in seeing what we could contribute to life. As we felt new power flow in, as we enjoyed peace of mind, as we discovered we could face life successfully, as we became conscious of God's presence, we began to lose our fear of today, tomorrow, or the hereafter. We were reborn." page 63. Alcoholics Anonymous.

Every morning, sitting on my porch, I pray the following prayer before I start meditating on the passages for the day:

"God, will you open my mind to meditate on what I need to meditate on? Will you open my heart to receive what I need to receive? And will you open my hands to give away what I receive?"

I've been praying this for awhile because it seems to put me in the right mood and opens my mind just enough to pay attention but not so much that I go down any rabbit holes. What this prayer does is help me focus. It helps me to read contemplatively, it quiets my brain, and reminds me that whatever I "find" isn't mine to keep all to myself. 

And today, I wanna talk about the fringes, because that's where my meditation's leading me. 

I have this friend who at one time really started scaring me with his whacky belief systems. For the longest time, we agreed on pretty much everything when it came to God, Christianity, and Jesus. We were two peas in a pod. We were passionate about the same things. We shared the same zeal for God and people. We wanted nothing more than to create sacred spaces where people could meet together and develop loving community. 

But my friend starting doubting things that were - in my mind - non-negotiable. He started questioning the Church. He started criticizing religion and Christianity and Christians and the way religion works and the Bible and everything under the sun that had to do with religion. 

As time went by, my friend's new found path went a different direction than the path I was heading down. As I watched my friend "lose his faith," I became very concerned about his well-being. It got to the point that I was nervous about hanging out with him because I couldn't seem to connect anymore. I didn't know how to dialogue because we no longer shared the same belief systems. 

Over the years, I've heard many terms for what my friend was experiencing: losing faith, losing religion, leaving the faith, losing salvation, blasphemy, leaving God, etc. 

But I'd like to argue that what my friend was and is doing is exactly what Jesus was telling the audience to do in the verse above. 

Ask, seek, and find.

My friend had had enough. He decided that he could no longer buy in to the product he was being sold for so many years. And so, he made a conscious decision to go on a quest for truth. 

In the Greek language, the words ask and seek have similar meanings: to crave something. I love this definition, because as an alcoholic I understand what it means to crave. When I put alcohol into my body, my body craves more. It has to have it. It yearns for more. 

In reality, what was causing so much concern in me was my friend's craving for truth. What this craving was doing was sending him to the fringes of what had become the only way possible. 

Several other friends of ours became concerned as well because we couldn't imagine how someone could be so passionate and so zealous for the things we were passionate about, and then suddenly change so drastically. 

Ask. Seek. Find.

I would've never thought that years down the road I'd be on the same spiritual quest that my friend was on. I would've never thought that I'd be the one gravitating towards the fringes of the only way possible. Yet, that's where I find myself today. I have an insatiable craving to seek the truth. 

And I believe Jesus was addressing all truth seekers in this famous passage.  

For those of us who have given up on the idea of asking God for cars, money, healing powers, droughts to end and rains to fall, this passage is about seeking and receiving the knowledge of what's really real. But there's a problem with this. It creates concern for the people around us. It invites interrogation. It welcomes criticism. 

As a truth craver, this yearning inside me has expanded my spiritual borders further than I ever thought was possible. It's caused me to think, re-think, re-form, and evolve in my way of both understanding the world and the ancient texts we call scriptures. The only way possible has become Lets find out how many ways are possible. It's exposed me to concepts I didn't even know existed. 

And the thing is, my craving to know God is deeper than it's ever been before. It's set me on a path that I don't ever wanna get off of. It's set my eyes on a horizon that I'll never reach but a journey that's full of wonder. 

This quest requires removing the solid concrete box that I've put God in via the Bible and religion, and making sure that the walls don't go up again. At the same time, it requires nurturing the Bible and religion, and letting them function the way they're supposed to - using them as a support system and not the foundation itself. 

Swine

"Don't give an earful of sacred teachings to those who don't want to listen. Chances are, you're the one who's not ready to receive what they have to offer." Matthew 7:6. (paraphrased).

"Why lay ourselves open to being branded fanatics or religious bores? We may kill a future opportunity to carry a beneficial message." page 77. Alcoholics Anonymous.

Over the past year, I've sent a few of my blogs over to the atheist page on Facebook to see what the waters are like. And every time, within minutes, the responses start rolling in. But they're not pretty at first. I think they like to see what kind of message I'm sending, so they'll test me by saying really mean things. I have to admit, the first time I had my feelings hurt. I thought I had a message that worked for the atheist as well as the agnostic, but it didn't. I scampered away like a hurt school kid. 

And then I sent another one. This time, it was a question. I posed the question, "In your opinion, what is one thing Christians everywhere could do to help restore the relationship between Christianity and Atheism?"

The responses were incredible! Dialogue went on for two days discussing how and why Christians and atheists just don't seem to get along. I learned a ton from that conversation about why many atheists despise Christianity. And most of it had to do with forcing religious beliefs on people who don't believe the same things. While I understand the idea, I don't think force is the right word to use here. No one can actually force anyone else to believe anything. What they were trying to say I think, is that sometime in their past, someone had tried to force religious beliefs down their throats. Whether successful or not (I'm assuming not since they're on an atheist Facebook page), it was the motive that mattered. 

Jesus lived in a time of intense opposition to the message he was trying to get out - namely that God loved everyone and not just the religious elites. But, the other side of the message was, God is for justice, but not the kind of justice the religious institution puts forth or the kind the Roman Empire puts forth. Jesus enacted a program of justice through love and humility. 

It was too soft for the Jewish leaders and too forgiving for the Roman leaders. In fact, it was a threat to the established order. It was a threat to the cultural, religious, and political systems of justice at the time. 

So, what would happen if a follower of Jesus were to go up to one of these zealous priests or ruthless Roman soldiers and shared the message of justice through love? They probably wouldn't have responded nicely to say the least. They would've been branded heretics by the Jews and traitors by the Romans. 

In the watered down translation of this verse, the authors have Jesus saying, "Don't throw what is holy before dogs, and don't throw pearls before swine. They'll turn and tear you to pieces." I think this verse is a reflection of the author's prejudice at the time. The author would've thought of the Roman soldiers as dogs, and the Jewish leaders as pigs. Prejudice. It's obviously a metaphor, and the Greek word for dogs means "men with impure minds" or "men with unfaltering minds." 

I've tried many times to explain God to people who are close-minded to everything God-related. It just doesn't work. And it's the same with trying to explain alcoholism to the alcoholic who doesn't think he or she has a problem. It just doesn't work, and usually I'm the one who ends up being butt-hurt (that one's for you Shelby).

What I've learned over the years is this: people are on their own journeys, and I have the option either to contribute to that journey or make it harder. 

If Jesus were standing here today, saying the same passage, he'd probably say something like, "Quit thinking words are gonna fix everybody who disagrees with you. You're only making things worse for both of you." We have examples through the scriptures of both hard-nosed Jewish leaders and intimidating Roman soldiers (whether they're true or not is besides the point) coming to accept and believe the message that Jesus was carrying. But the thing about it was, Jesus was more concerned about love than words, and the audiences could tell. He made it abundantly clear that he wasn't in it to convert people to Christianity (since Christianity wasn't even a known religion) or Judaism (since Judaism had long lost its allure to the common folk), but to love radically.

Jesus was more concerned about building relationships of radical love than swaying people to believe the articles of the Jewish faith. And if he were here today, he'd be more concerned about radically loving the world than swaying the world to believe the aricles of the Christian faith.The love he showed was the picture of his concept of God. 

The way we love reflects the way we view God. Let that sink in for a moment. Let it simmer. 

Going back to the question I posed to the atheist group on Facebook. One of the most common answers I got was stop letting religion guide law. If I could interpret what they were trying to say, it would be something like, "Too many Christians think God is intertwined with American sovereignty," or "Too many Christians believe that God is the author of the American Constitution," or "When will Christians stop taking the Bible so literally, to the point that laws are created based off of scriptures taken thousands of years out of context?"

I like to think that I'm open-minded enough to care more about nurturing loving relationships than trying to sway anyone to believe the same way I do. If I'm not, then I consider my purpose in this life a complete failure. Whether it's working with the suffering alcoholic or talking about God, words hold no meaning when there's not the sense that love is what's fueling the conversation. And in my belief, love is God. Wherever love is, God is there also. 

From the outside looking in and the inside looking out, there's an ever-widening gap between Christians and non-Christians. I'm helped to both widen the gap and close the gap, but it's there. 

I don't believe Jesus was saying to throw out some words and if they don't like what you have to say then walk away. I think he was saying to choose the words wisely, and if possible, just use action. Just love. If I can't use words to convey love, then I need to keep my mouth shut. And that's my biggest problem. My words are what get me into trouble way more than my actions. 

One wrongful sentence can leave wounds for years along with resentments. And I, just like most other people, don't want to feel like anyone's trying to force religion down my throat. It does me no good. It doesn't do anybody any good. That's where my atheist friends have it right. They, more than most, know what it's like to be manipulated, laughed at, and mocked by religious people. 

But no one's gonna argue an act of restorative love, an expression of justice through compassion. When love invades space and time, there's no time for debate or argument. Because really, God is there. And the presence of God is powerful enough to captivate any audience. 

Today, may we try to replace our words with loving, restorative action.

Woods

It was a sunny summer morning in the Piney Woods. There were one hundred of us alcoholics listening to each other share our experiences with God - how it used to be and how it is. For the first time, I heard someone put the whole "fear God" concept to the test. I heard someone else throw the "sinners go to hell" idea out the window. But most importantly, I heard my story for the first time. It wasn't the drunkalogue story, or the hard life story, or the checklist of all the negative things that have happened in my life story either. I heard my God story. For the first time, from the lips of someone else, I heard how someone feared God and learned how to discard the idea altogether. 

That day changed the rest of my life.

I haven't looked back, and I hope I never have to. 

In the Piney Woods of Texas, I recovered from a trembling, joyless, shameful concept of God that was helping fuel my desires to drink. 

Why did I fear God so badly?

I can't blame anybody else but me. I used to blame religion, the church, family, preachers, conservatives, etc., but today I see how I'm responsible for my own conception of God. 

I took the Bible literally. For some reason, although I'd find truth in all other fictional realms, I couldn't seem to drop the idea the Bible was this infallible, red-hot ember that would burn me if I took it the wrong way. In reality, it was burning me the whole time because I was holding it so tightly. 

Now here was the real dilemma for an alcoholic who had a conception of God like I did: both the drinking and my concept of God - matched together - produced enough shame to kill me. 

Can fear of God kill? I believe so. It nearly did me. 

My life was a wrecking ball of scared worship, service under the false pretense of compassion, and a prayer life that seemed way more interested in saving me from a hell that I thought was surely waiting for me. Never mind the hell on earth I was experiencing 24/7. I was a living testimony to the fact that beliefs in the intangible and abstract will absolutely drive me to do insane things. They'll also drive me to do good things, but when my concept of God is centered around fear, it's impossible to love or receive love. 

I didn't think the Bible could be touched in the same way a literature class touches on Shakespeare. I didn't think the words attributed to the God of Israel were actually written by a human being. I thought things like the ground swallowing up and God smiting cities and talking donkeys were real, although I'd never considered that I hadn't ever seen anything like that happen. Okay, the ground swallowing up people is closer to a reality, but you get the point. 

I read the Bible like an instruction manual that my life depended on. I held onto its commands as if there was no source of truth anywhere else in the world. And that's how I developed concepts like God hates divorce and homosexuality is a sin and all the rich people are going to hell. It wasn't that the concepts weren't there, because they were there black and white. The problem is, I was too ignorant to realize that these concepts were coming from the minds of prejudice-filled human beings just like me. Just like you. Just like us. 

And so all these commands and instructions and morals were starting to direct my life. I didn't have to think anymore because I could just let the bible think for me. I could let God (who obviously wrote the Bible) direct every bit of my life. 

And I did. And because I took it literally and held onto it so tightly, I hit a spiritual bottom that I hope to never hit again. The way I read the Bible actually pointed me towards hopelessness. Even some of the red letters of the New Testament pointed me to despair. The same worked with Jesus. Jesus wasn't present to write his own words. They were written by prejudice-filled men and women just like me. Just like you. Just like us. 

Is there truth in the Bible? Absolutely. But can I find that truth by taking everything I read literally? Absolutely not. 

I think there's a ton of people just like me who are holding on dearly for their spiritual lives to one day get better, but at the same time they're believing in an infallible, timeless, God-written Bible. They're dying on the inside because they know they have a brain and a heart but can't seem to use it. They've replaced the ability to think with becoming a bible robot. 

That day in the woods, I had a falling out. It wasn't with another person. It wasn't with God. It wasn't with myself. I killed the fear of God that was inside me. I killed it and cursed it. I slit its throat, let the blood pour out on the ground before me, and sacrificed it right there on the forest floor. I said goodbye to the fear of God and gave it a proper burial - a complete eradication. 

It's amazing what it did for me and to me. I gradually developed a profound sense that something was moving inside my soul. Something started filling me with a sense of divine presence and joy. Salvation started taking on a completely different meaning than I'd believed in before. It was no longer about praying a certain prayer or doing certain rituals or believing certain things. It was about killing my fear of God. 

No longer did I have to pray dishonestly. No longer did I have to lie to my fellow Christians. No longer did I have to skip over the parts in the Bible that were once hard to swallow. No longer did I have to wonder if certain people really were going to hell, because hell was just a projection of the human desire to know what happens in the afterlife. And so with heaven. And so with resurrection. And so with Sheol. And so with Hades. And so with Purgatory. And so with the mansions and the streets of gold and the pearly gates. 

Scripture began taking on new meaning. I received a new pair of glasses. No longer was I reading a non-fiction "manual," but I was reading flesh-and-blood reality of ancient thought and action. I was reading memoir and allusion and poetry and prose and historical fact and historical metaphor and simile and hyperbole and all the other forms of literature that create the world of communication. 

For the first time in my life, I could disagree with something I read in the Bible because I was disagreeing with the author's viewpoints on life and God and culture. I could develop my own conception of God just as the authors created their own conceptions of God (which is why if you read the bible straight through, you'll get a bizarre, dysfunctional, bipolar portrait of God).

God is no longer this divine being in the skies that is eager to punish the world. God is force, energy, the drive to create good things in the world, the still, small, voice inside that drives me to find an alternative to my selfish and self-seeking desires. God isn't human, just as gravity isn't human. 

God is the force behind love. The creator of love. The essence of love. And love is sometimes peaceful and sometimes chaotic, just like the ever-expanding universe or the microscopic cross-section of a square inch of forest floor. 

Judge

"Don't pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults—unless, of course, you want the same treatment." Matthew 7:1 The Message

"Where were we to blame?" page 67 Alcoholics Anonymous

Over the past year, Houston pastors have been in the middle of controversy with the mayor. The mayor is calling for a subpoena on all sermons, emails, texts messages, and letters that deal with homosexuality, gender equality, and gay marriage. 

As a response, Houston pastors have created a coalition against the mayor, using the Constitution to defend themselves against the "over-reaching" government power. 

Without getting too deep into this issue, I'd like to say one thing: the pastors aren't just random victims of the mayor's tactics. Houston is full of pastors who condemn homosexuality, gay marriage, and equal rights. So, to think that Mayor Parker is "randomly persecuting" them is another case of Constitutionalists gone wild. Mayor Parker is retaliating against the pastors for judging the homosexual community, and using their government provided, nontaxable existence as the means to do so. 

I'm not trying to make this a matter of who's right and who's wrong, but a matter of the simple truth that 99% of the time I'm not a victim of random aggression. Anytime someone is on the offensive against me, it's because I did something in the past that really pissed them off. 

The Houston pastors should've expected the mayor to be breathing down their backs. That comes with the territory when the message you're preaching is full of us vs. them language. People don't like it, and people will confront it. 

I've thought for a long time that churches should stay out of the business of 501(c)3, because they're asking for government audits and scrutiny by doing so. Tax exempt status doesn't come without a cost somewhere - the government will get theirs. 

But on the same token, this all goes to the personal level as well. 

When someone gets mad at me or condemns me or tries to break me down verbally, I naturally play the victim card. I defend myself, and usually go on a rant about how that person is in the wrong. I'll build myself up, puff myself up, and use my ego to put out a vibe that I've done nothing wrong and I'm just an innocent victim. 

The deep desire to defend myself when I'm being judged is part of the inner wiring of what it means to be human. But sometimes, being human isn't a good enough reason for not stepping back and seeing that I have fault in every situation in which I'm disturbed. Whether the situation has other people involved or not, I have a part in it. 

Martyrdom just isn't a reality in America. Persecution, however, is rampant. 

One of my best friends is gay, and about ten years ago he confided in me or "came out."

My response was nothing less than disgusting. Being immature and stupid, I took his confidence and destroyed it. After he took the risk of disclosing very personal information, I made fun of him and gossiped about him to my other friends. I took no consideration for his wishes or his trust in me. What I did completely shattered his heart, and the worst thing about it was I couldn't see what I had done. I was too blinded by my own ego to see that I'd even created any damage. 

And so, for a few years, my friend would "randomly" say things to me that cut to the bone. It seemed like they came out of nowhere. But, in reality, he was still burnt up about how I'd broken his confidence and made a joke out of his honesty. I still couldn't see it. I was a victim. I was innocent. 

It wasn't until five years later that I finally realized what I'd done. No one else could show me. I had to see it for myself. And once it finally dawned on me that I had harmed him, I was eager to make amends. I was eager to apologize and see what I could do to make it right. 

I judged him unthinkingly, and he responded in ways that I thought were random acts of aggression. 

It's because of that situation that my whole outlook on homosexuality was transformed. I used to be a bigot, using the Bible to defend my stances on homosexuality, until I realized that I'd harmed my best friend. I stabbed him in the heart with my words and it took years to reconstruct our friendship. 

The truth is, the world hasn't put me under the microscope. I'm not a marked target. I'm not being persecuted. Ever. 

When I find that someone is gossiping about me or picking on me or verbally attacking me or trying to throw me under the bus or doing anything that offends me, it's nearly always because I've done something to create a retaliatory response. 

Paralysis

"I tell you this: Do not worry about your life. Do not worry about what you are going to eat and drink. Do not worry about what you are going to wear. Is not life more important than food? Is not the body more important than clothes?" Matthew 6:25 New Life Bible

 "Sometimes we think fear ought to be classed with stealing. It seems to cause more trouble." Alcoholics Anonymous pg. 68

A couple of years ago, I was completely out of money. I had no idea how I was gonna put gas in the car to get to work. And so, I was full of anxiety about how the finances were gonna work out with a week left until my next paycheck. As I laid in bed, thinking up ways I could find the money to get gas, I remembered I had an envelope full of money next to my bed. The only problem was, the money wasn't mine. I was the treasurer for the recovery group I was a part of, so naturally I had cash stashed by my bedside. It was the perfect solution. Nobody would know. 

So, I just took a little bit - enough to get some gas. It was only about $30. No harm, no foul. Except, there was harm involved. First of all, I had to justify in my head why it was okay to steal someone else's money for my own gain. I obviously need it, I'd repeat to myself. Besides, they would want me to do this if they knew the kind of financial straits I'm in. And so, I was able to escape the mental anguish by convincing myself I hadn't done anything wrong. 

But that led to more problems. Every time I saw my friends, I couldn't bear the fact that I was holding a secret. It blocked me from being authentic with them. Every time we had a meeting, I felt like I had to lie about more things, and much simpler things. I'll just keep my conversations to a minimum. Nobody will know.

This went on for about six months and fear drove me to manipulate my conversations, to avoid talking about money, and especially to avoid confessing to the group. 

Finally, the day came when I knew I had to say something. 

And so, after the meeting one night, I gathered everyone together and told them what I'd done. To my surprise, everybody laughed it off. They were unbelievably gracious, and all they asked was if I paid it back. I told them I had (which wasn't a lie), and it was over. Forgiven. 

Fear drives me to lie, cheat, and steal. 

Right now, as I stand silently on the balcony of my apartment, I'm full of fear. I'm worried that my life's never gonna pan out the way it's supposed to. I'm worried that I'll forever be stuck at the job I'm currently at, without ever getting to spend eight hours a day doing what I truly love - which is writing. And on the other side of that fear is another fear - the fear of changing anything in my life. It's like my heart is sandwiched between two fears that are driving me around day by day, keeping me in the backseat with a soundproof window between the driver and I. 

Yelling at the driver does nothing. The doors are locked from the inside. I'm stuck. Have you ever experienced this kind of fear? Have you ever looked toward the horizon of your life, and seen promises of adventure, beauty, and passion, but found yourself unable to move towards it as if an invisible wall was keeping you from advancing?

That's where I am. And this fear isn't always there, but it creeps up on me every once in awhile. It blurs my mind, stifles my heart, and paralyzes me. 

So what does Jesus give as a solution to this fearful mess?

"Seek first the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you."

Jesus states elsewhere that the kingdom of God is within you. The book Alcoholics Anonymous says to put my fears on paper - to own up to them - and to see where I'm at fault and how I can take courageous steps to walking through that fear. It also says that any life that is built on self-propulsion can hardly be a success.

Fear is the enemy of trust. And the problem is, I try to dispense trust into the same bank my fear is stored in - my self. 

To seek the kingdom of God first means to look inside me, and to find where that still, small voice is telling me to go and what to do. But in order to do so, I have to look deeper than the fear that surrounds my heart. I have to peel away the corroding flesh of fear, and find the heartbeat, the call of God. I've tried time and time again to let fear be my greatest motivator. While it may work for a time, it's futile. It only appears to work before I'm back at square one, wondering how my foundation was so weak. 

Once I can see deeper than the fear that smothers my heart, I can see the direction I'm supposed to go. Instead of thinking that I can think my way out of the situation, I can see the corrective actions that'll point me in the direction I was supposed to go all along. 

I believe that seeking first the kingdom of God means trusting that God will take care of the results. While fear tells me it's all about the results, trust tells me it's all about the journey. If I can't enjoy the journey, then the results are meaningless. I'm blinded by my obsession with the difficulty of now. 

Surrendering fear means taking action. And taking action means trusting an infinite God over my finite self. It means trusting in a power greater than myself rather than trusting in my own selfish schemes. 

Meat

"Don't hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or--worse!-stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it's safe from moth and rust and burglars." Matthew 6:19-20 The Message

So, a few months ago I had this impulsive urge to make hamburgers. And being the BBQ fanatic that I am, I decided that in that moment I had to purchase a smoker. I've tasted the best brisket, the best ribs, and the best sausage in the world right here in Texas, so I decided it was time to give it a shot myself. So, Shelby and I jumped on our computers to look for the best smoker we could get for our money. When we finally found the one, we rushed out to go get this smoker so we could have hamburgers that night. 

After I assembled it that night and made some delicious, juicy burgers, I cleaned up the smoker just like the instructions said, put the lid on, and read through the manual about all the different things I could do with this smoker. 

The problem is, it's months later and I still haven't used this smoker. I had huge ambitions for this thing. Thoughts of fatty, moist beef danced in my head as I thought of the possibilities. But now, every morning that I go outside to meditate, this smoker stares me in the face reminding me of how my ambitions didn't pan out the way I thought they would. 

And then there's my friend Lucas. He has a smoker too. Except, he's smoking meat just about every weekend. He's in deep. He's become a self-made brisket connoisseur, and because of it other people are getting to benefit from his grilling skills. When he goes out to his back porch, his smoker's staring him in the face and reminding him of what a great investment it was. And people are getting blessed by it. There's just nothing like the drippy fatty end of a brisket. 

But I say all of this to get to this point: It's not really about the physical smoker is it? It's really not about cooking. It's really not about impulsive buying. It's about the who and the what that's surrounding the smoker. 

In my case, the smoker just sits. No one is benefiting. Well, I guess some cow somewhere is benefiting, but I think you get the point. 

In ancient Hebrew, there was this tradition called the year of liberty or the year of jubilee.  Every seventh year, the land would be given a break - no planting and no harvesting. Anybody who was in debt would be forgiven, and all indentured servants would return to their families. It was all about stopping, remembering, and returning. The idea behind it was, everything and everyone belonged to God. The land was God's. Property was God's. People were God's. And so, the time of jubilee was a time to be pointed back to the reality that nothing was really owned but everything was a gift to be shared. It was a reminder that the land wasn't owned by man and that especially people weren't owned by masters. 

Land wasn't just something to be owned and servants weren't just another commodity and debt wasn't just another fact of life. 

Everything and everyone was returned to their original owners as a symbolic remembrance of how everything belonged to God, or Yahweh. In this way, land became more than just land, but a symbolic reminder of the God who gave significance to the land. Money became more than just money, but a symbolic reminder of the God who gave significance to money. 

Ownership became more than just ownership, but a symbolic reminder of the God who gave significance to ownership. 

I own the land, but I don't really own the land. I own the servant, but I really don't own the servant. I own the money, but I don't really own the money. 

So what does all this have to do with me and my stupid smoker?

According to ancient Hebrew philosophy, my smoker is insignificant if it's not being used to bless the world around me. 

And so, it raises a whole new question about impulsive buying doesn't it?

We've all watched the show Hoarders. We've seen the destruction that having too much stuff creates. We've seen the devastated families that have been ripped apart by one member's obsessive addiction to having more. And I think it's easy to watch extreme shows like that and to start rationalizing and justifying the clutter in my own life that's just taking up space. It's easy to use extreme stories outside of my own story to avoid the fact that I'm holding on to stuff and not returning it to its original purpose. 

This jubilee opens up a whole new can of worms doesn't it?

It makes the car not just a car, the boat not just a boat, dinner not just dinner, and work just not work.

Everything becomes illuminated with this profound and sacred significance. Everything is on its way to being returned to its original purpose - a reflection of the way God provides lavishly to all of creation. Everything's being redeemed, restored, and renewed. 

And so to the ancient Hebrew, nothing was insignificant. The smoker wasn't just a smoker, but a means to reflecting about how Yahweh provided and how everything belonged to Yahweh.

If I'm to live out the concept of Jubilee, then I have to ask the question, "What do I have in my possession that's not being returned to its original owner?"

What do I have in my possession that's not being used to bless the world around me and the God who provides for me? Whatever those things are - material or immaterial - are most likely the things that my heart's so wrapped up in that the thought of them being taken away or given away causes unnecessary anxiety in my life.

Jubilee calls me to give those things away to people who are better suited - to return them to their rightful owners. Jubilee calls me to take a hard look at what I put a badge of ownership on, and be reminded that everything, big and small, belongs to God.



 

Giving

"And if someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life." Matthew 5:41

"To conclude that others were wrong was as far as most of us ever got." Alcoholics Anonymous, page 66

I have two friends, Lucas and Lacy, that I'd like to brag about. When I was trying to get on my feet sobriety-wise and financially, they offered to take me into their home. I took them up on their offer, and because of it, I was able to go to school without having to take out any student loans and add to the neck deep pile of debt I'd incurred over the years. But the most influential thing about it was the way in which they took me in. They held absolutely no expectations over my head. They didn't have a chore list for me. They weren't constantly looking over my shoulders to make sure I was keeping the room clean. They didn't ask me to be home at a certain time or wake up at a certain time. They wanted me to feel as free as possible. 

They shared everything they owned with me without asking anything in return. And, they were always willing to talk whenever I needed to get something off my chest. These folks are the real deal. They're authentic, they love with no strings attached, and they seek ways to help people out who are at the end of their rope. They have this drive inside of them to love on people simply because they see it as an opportunity to experience God. It's thankless work and they couldn't be more happy to do it.

And then there's Ben. Over the years, I've watched Ben give money away to people whom he knew were only going to take advantage of his gift. I've watched him give a car away to a couple who I'd seen take advantage of him many times. When I've been in financial straights, he's helped me out even though he usually has jobs that pay close to minimum wage. 

If it wasn't for these people in my life, I'd have a pretty screwed up view of what it looks like to give. They are the minority in a world that screams for self-preservation and giving only if there's return on the investment. 

Because of Lucas and Lacy, I've extended my own home to people without asking anything in return. Because of Ben's thankless generosity, I've extended my own financial resources to people who are surely going to take advantage of the opportunity. 

For my three friends, giving isn't about what they're getting back. It's about having another opportunity to practice the servant life - even if it means getting taken advantage of. It's about knowing deep inside that they're connecting with something bigger than themselves, and the results won't be found in material ways but in ways that fill their hearts with joy and peace. 

My wife Shelby and I started earmarking a benevolence fund in our budget. Since we hadn't been married that long, we thought it'd be a great idea to use our financial resources to help people other than our immediate family. It's been an awesome way to find opportunities to serve together, and in the process we've had our own kinds of spiritual experiences. And so, we get to share stories with each other about how we got to buy someone lunch or help a homeless man out or buy some equipment for the animal shelter. There's something about intentional giving that clears up the lens we look at life through. It causes us to look for ways to contribute to the world around us instead of constantly wondering when the world's gonna hurt us again. 

When giving money, or time, or stuff becomes more about how I'm gonna experience God in that moment, the thought of being taken advantage of doesn't even cross my mind. It's when I have expectations written all over it that I'll be paying attention to how my gifts are being used. In fact, when any expectations of reciprocity are attached to giving, it's no longer giving but it's a loan with interest.  The reason I say it's a loan is, I'm the one who ends up resentful and discontented. I'm the one who ends up being the collection agency. I'll start using my "thankless giving" as a way to squeeze what I want out of the relationship. And it sucks the life out of giving. 

The truth is, I need to be taken advantage of. I need to see how tightly I'm grasping onto my money, time, and stuff. I need to constantly have my motives checked to see if I'm in it to serve God or if I'm in it to stroke my ego or get a return on my investment. When my giving is thankless, I find that I'm the one who's receiving the most because I'm letting go of something that otherwise I'd be clenching with tight fists. And when I give something away, something's gotta take its place. And that something is the presence of a God who's always providing, always giving, and always loving in ways that I can't.

Tax Collector

A few years ago, I was standing in line at a convenience store with a friend of mine who's lesbian. As we were moving up in line, a male customer walked through the door and as he shuffled by my friend, he whispered under his breath, "Dike." I didn't even know this happened until we got into the car and she explained what happened. I didn't know what to say, so I just shook my head in disbelief. 

And then I have this other friend whom I've shared countless conversations with about his agony in feeling like he'll never be able to share a life with someone because of the bans on gay marriage in the state of Texas. Although I've tried to put myself in his shoes and understand what it must be like to feel the way he feels, I can't come close. 

I'll admit that the people I have the hardest time loving are the ones who have quick objections to homosexuality and gay marriage. When it comes to the church, it's been my number one resentment over the years. But the truth is, I don't have the power to change what other people believe. However, with all the latest controversy surrounding the freedom of religion laws that have been floating around lately, I can encourage and support my gay friends and the LGBT community.

And so, I write this as an encouragement to those who are feeling left out and singled out by the laws of this nation. 

First, I'd like to say that the God I believe in is all-inclusive. My God loves everyone and doesn't base love off of personal belief systems. My God loves indiscriminately. As you know, not all people hold to this view of God. But that's okay. We're all wired differently, with differing understandings of the world and its people. 

Secondly, I'd like to point to the teachings of Jesus, one specifically. Whether everything Jesus did or said was historically accurate, I don't know, but just going from the scriptures it seems he was a representation of what it meant in ancient Rome and the surrounding cities to be a marginalized peasant who took a stand against the things that threatened the fabric of God's love within humanity. 

I could easily replace the word tax collector with homosexual and find that the point Jesus was driving at was this: God loves the people whom society dislikes the most. And Jesus used his life as an open book to what it looks like to not discriminate against those society deemed worthless, unattractive, or threats to its religious status quo. Jesus showed his audience that being a tax collector, or an adulterer, or a "public threat" was just a social taboo and not a characteristic that exempted one from being part of this thing called the kingdom of God - or the spiritual realm in which everyone shares a part. 

Much like today, the religious culture Jesus was born into was wedded with government culture. The priests of his day were just as politically aligned as the priests of our day, and the minority faced the same persecution and problems that minorities face today. 

The religion of his day was just as wrapped up in politics as it is today, which is why his messages stand relevant after two millennia. 

And so, what did Jesus say to the minority, the outcast, and the threat to the status quo? He said things like love your enemies and turn the other cheek and do not resist evil but overcome evil with love.

Friends, we Christians, Muslims, and any other religious people who have this hard-wiring in us that tells us some people are left out of the kingdom of God have a lot to learn from you. The Christian culture in America and other nations has become so intertwined with patriotism and politics that love your enemies and do not resist evil has transformed into bogus concepts like just war and capital punishment and bans on gay marriage.

We have a lot to learn from your perseverance, patience, and humility. You've had to face challenges that most of us probably will never see. You've had to wipe the spit from your face, erase the whispers from your ears, and cry tears of sorrow that most of us will never cry. 

But I challenge you to not resist evil with evil, but to overcome evil with love. Why? Because it's the only way our religious culture will ever see that God's love extends to everyone and not just those who believe a certain way or ascribe to certain dogmatic principles. You're the teachers and we're the pupils. You're putting on display what it looks like to thrive and love in a culture that doesn't love back. You're showing the world what it looks like to be who you were created to be as the stones come hurling toward you. You're showing the world what God's love really looks like by withstanding the strong currents of national and international discrimination and bigotry, all the while doing the best you can in loving your significant others and the people around you. 

I believe that in my lifetime, I'll see an American Christian culture that will accept the LGBT community as their own. I believe I'll get to witness breakthroughs in Christian thought when it comes to gay rights, and you are gonna be the frontrunners for that through your love, patience, humility, kindness, and faith.