Be Humbled

This was his first living situation off the streets in over five years. All he had was his sleeping bag and a backpack if I remember correctly. Maybe a few books and a razor or something small like that.

I had never really talked with the guy, except for a few hellos here and there.

My friend Jody was the real matchmaker in this drama. I just happened to have an extra room that I was keeping open for situations such as this one.

I was in Colorado when he moved in, so I didn't get to see his first sigh of relief when he sprawled out on the couch or read his first book in peace. I wonder what he felt like getting to close the door to the world outside, knowing he didn't have to sleep with one eye open . . . finally.

Anyways, the plan was to get home from Colorado, have a little talk with 'em, then take him to the best place I know of for oysters on the halfshell. I figured being from Washington State he didn't know what oysters were (aside from the occasional conversational piece about their Rocky Mountain siblings), much less fried catfish and shrimp.

So, we headed out for his inaugural night of food drunkenness - the best kind of gluttony there is.

We sat down, peered over the menu, and I asked question after question. I wanted to know every detail on what it was like to be homeless. I wanted to know how to fix it, how to prevent it, how to do a better job hanging out with the homeless, and how not to help homeless people. I grilled the poor guy. He probably just wanted me to shut up and let him scour the menu some more.

I got up to go to the bathroom, and a sudden panic shot through my chest as I looked at the handwritten sign on the door. "Shit!" I screamed in my head. "I don't have any CASH ONLY!" I figured by the time I walked to the bathroom, took a piss, and walked back to the table I would have a plan of action.

So, I told him, I promise I didn't pull a quick one on ya', but I totally forgot this is a cash only restaurant and I don't have any cash. I'm gonna run over to the ATM across the street real quick.

He responded, No, no. Don't worry about it! You've done enough for me already. Let me pay.

Do you have the money? This place isn't exactly cheap, I explained.

He laughed and replied, I have the money. Don't worry.

Regardless, I felt bad, but I don't know if the feeling bad was because my plan to be the hero failed, or because I didn't know how much money would be left in his wallet after this meal.

The total bill ended up being about forty five dollars, not including the tip. I didn't even have the tip.

Have you ever had a situation like this one, where you were completely planning on treating somebody to something really nice - maybe it was a girlfriend, or a mother, or a dad, or a sick friend. You thought you had everything ready.

It was like one of those times when you put the blindfold on the other person, because you don't want them to have a clue to know what is next.

And then, as you're off by yourself, giggling inside out of the excitement of knowing that you're serving someone else tonight, you see the sign on the door that says CASH ONLY.

And in about one second you go from excitement and bliss to panic and survival mode.

There should be a definition for this somewhere. In a book I read recently, the author did have a definition for this. He used an acronym to define it as HpTfTu - or, the high propensity to fuck things up. Isn't this something we experience as humans?

No matter how great our intentions, how innocent our plans, how fantastic our motives - it gets fucked up.

We try and try and try to be nice people, to do good things, to say the nice words, to console the hurt friend, to play the peacemaker, to give the money, to give the time, and eventually there's that moment where we realize that we are helpless, digging around in our pockets looking for the cash that we know's not there.

And we become the receivers. The ones who need the help. We get taken care of by the ones we were planning on taking care of.

And the feeling is foreign because we soooooo never thought it would happen this way. So, our legs move around under the table out of uncomfortable restlessness, and our words make it sound like we're used to accepting gifts. But, inside our heads, the voices scream at us, telling us Don't let this happen again. Don't let this person help you. You can do it on your own, you idiot!

What's a better word to describe the process that happens when we seek to do good, then it fucks up, then we end up on the receiving end other than humility?

I've always wondered if humility is something we can actually do, or if it's something that randomly happens to us. God knows I love my pride.

I hear the word all the time used in a directive like Be Humble. Like it's a billboard that all of us pass on the way to work, and we're supposed to be reminded to do what we really aren't able to do, which is follow the directions on the billboard.

I like the line Be Humbled better. This way, it supposes that there is some kind of outside presence, or force, if you, will that is required to interact with my current state of fucked-up-edness, and produce this foreign, uncomfortable but somehow correct, form of behavior.

So, my advice for you today is, don't try to be humble. Believe me, you'll fuck it up.

Rather, be open to being humbled. When it happens, don't try to fix it, because chances are you won't have another experience like it for some time. Let the drama play out, and you'll have a great story to tell later. Just feel what being humbled feels like for a little bit.

Lets Clear up Some Stuff About Jesus

 First of all, I'd like to define what agnostic actually means - what you and I have signed up for currently.

ag means without

and

gnosis means knowledge.

And so, when we say we're agnostic, we're saying we're lacking knowledge. Not knowledge in all respects, but knowledge about one particular subject, which is God.

We're clueless, but not quitting the search for whatever it is that may be out there (and/or in here).

Many of us have come to this conclusion based on information that was given to us labeled as knowledge, but when the rubber finally met the perverbial road, we actually had the balls to question it because deep, down, inside there was something in our minds that told us something doesn't sound right about this. 

And so, we haven't thrown the baby out with the bathwater yet, otherwise we wouldn't be calling ourselves agnostic right?

We keep searching, looking, reading, studying, and repeating this process in the hopes that we'll finally find it is that we're looking for - spiritual truth, right? We're looking for the thing that brings it all together.

Well, I'm not too sold on the idea of spiritual truth myself, that's if we're talking about having a sensible experience with the divine, something that can be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. If that's what your looking for as a soon-to-be-atheist, then you might as well pack your bags early. You ain't gonna find that one buddy.

Let me get to the point now.

We can be just as "without knowledge" about God, or agnostic if you prefer, even if we claim to agree with and even like the teachings of this fellow named Jesus. In my belief, the fancy titles that we read of Jesus in the scriptures were not adopted by himself, but attributed to him by later generations. 

Is that scandalous or what? 

Jesus' main mission, just like the many who came before him, and the many after, was to point us low-information-folks to the character of this being we call God. And so, when Jesus shared meals with the outcasts of the village, he was essentially saying: "This is what God is like. Do this and you'll experience what I'm experiencing."

We have reports that Jesus showed up to a temple one day and started wrecking shop - turning over the tables of accountants and getting all the animals out of the building. He knew the agnostics were left out of the whole "worship" experience, because they couldn't quite meet the litany of requirements to be a Jew. When Jesus wrecked shop, he was essentially saying, "God is inclusive. God doesn't demand anyone to join a club, but wants to hang out with everyone. But, God does get aggravated when people try to make money off of other people trying to connect with God."

We have reports that Jesus was executed on a Roman cross. This is how all enemies of the state died - a loser's death. He was essentially saying to we agnostics, "This is what God is like. God is willing to die for the sake of showing as many people as possible that the governments of this world are not on your side. The powers of the kingdoms of this world are out for their own, and they'll go to any length to get their way. Follow this way and you'll find freedom from the abusive power and manipulation."

In the earliest documents of what Jesus said, we have nothing about Jesus telling people to believe in himself, but everything about Jesus pointing people to God.

It wasn't until many generations after Jesus died that the movement came about that decided to place him "on the right hand of the throne of God." And, even so, it was a movement of people who believed that. They couldn't prove it any more than I can prove God exists. But, it worked for them and it stuck for a very, very, long time.

So, here's my "dare" to any of you who have utterly given up on the bible. Start reading it again, but with skepticism. Strong skepticism. 

Read Paul first, then Mark, then Matthew, then Luke. That's the order in which the "Jesus accounts" were written. 

Every time you read a sentence or paragraph, ask yourself, "Did Jesus actually say/do this, or did somebody later attribute this to Jesus in order to meet their own agendas? Does this sound like something Jesus would have said or done?"

Remember, when we read anything in scripture, we're reading different oral traditions that were being passed around for generations before they ever got put into writing. Essentially, we're reading the end results of "the telephone game," so there are things that were made up. But, there are also things that are historically accurate. It's up to us to do the research and find out.

Hopefully, this helps trim away some of the roadblocks for those of us who are deeply interested in connecting with God, but find ourselves agnostically inclined.

Why My Phone Goes Off One Day a Week (Unless, of Course, I Haven't Paid the Bill and it Goes Off Much More Than One Day a Week)

Turn off your phone. 

Now.

And leave it off until you finish reading this post.

There's a crazy thing that's about to happen now that I have your undivided attention:

The world is gonna keep going, but you aren't. You're gonna be still. You're gonna wonder for a little bit about how mom's gonna try to call and not get ahold of you. You're gonna freak a little about the numerous attentions that are dying to have YOUR attention right in this moment. But . . . keep hanging . . . 

      you're doing great . . . 

     that's it . . . 

Ok. Let's move on. Take a deep breath, it'll be okay.

Today I want to talk about Sabbath. I know if you're someone who cringes when words like this come up, you'll probably tune out right about now. So,

Let's change the word. Let's call it rest. 

Today I want to talk about rest. There. 

I've developed the habit of going out to the water every Sunday and turning my phone off (unless, it is absolutely necessary to turn it on, like today, when I passed my landlord on the road and had to send an emergency text to the two people who stayed at my house last night to tell them the landlord was coming aka GET OUT FAST; I turned the phone off as soon as the word SENT happened). 

There are several things that have happened in the time since I've started doing this (about six months ago it seems):

1. People get really pissed when they can't get ahold of me (even if it's for something like six hours).
2. I become the blame for the problems that happened while I was off the radar (evidently I was the only one who had the answer to the world's problems).
3. I've noticed I have more energy come crunch time Friday at work.
4. I've done a ton of reading.
5. I've learned how to share sabbath (or rest) with my girlfriend (not anyone else yet, though).

As an unexpected extension of my Sunday-phone-turnoff-day, I haven't paid my phone bill yet this month, so it's been forcibly turned off. But, that has nothing to do with the REST part of this post, even though it extends the idea of silence into the rest of my week.

It seems that turning off our cell phones for any given period of time (besides sleep, and I bet there's a lot of you who sleep with the phone on), would be like the equivalent of a 1st century Jew tying up his donkey on the sabbath. 

Technology has become such a vehicle for communication, that it seems absurd to turn it off, even when it comes to spiritual practices.

Here's my suggestion. Take it or leave it. Turn the phone for one day a week (or as many hours as you can survive phone-less for that day) and do what you restfully love to do - uninterrupted by the phone. For me, it's reading, then napping, then eating, then repeating. 

After a couple weeks of trying this, you'll find that you'll go into the next seven days with a bigger zeal to talk and listen to people you'd normally be ready to hang up on. You'll also find that come Friday and Saturday, there's a new-found burst of energy that wasn't there before.

Godzilla Attack Redbud!

Oh no!
They say he's got to go
Go, Go!
Godzilla!

The Scandalous Nature of "Spiritual Authority" and "Spiritual Truth"

If there's ever been a thorn in my side, it's been my defiance toward "spiritual authority". The reason I put the phrase inside quotations is, it's an oxymoron to me.

If something is spiritual, it's unknowable. It's something words can't describe. It can't be touched, only felt. It can't be experienced with the senses, but rather leaves itself to be defined by words like "peaceful," "serene," and "awesome." It's the sense of knowing there's wind blowing, but not knowing where it's coming from.

On the other hand, the word authority implies ownership of a concrete realm of time and space. A master mechanic has authority on the intricate details of assembling an engine.

So, when someone claims to have spiritual authority, they are trying to box in something that is outside of space and time. They're trying to take something that was originally meant to create a sense of awe and wonder and manipulate it into something that fits into our worldview.

And, when a group of people attribute spiritual authority to one or two people, they are essentially giving that person power to take what wasn't supposed to be defined in the first place and to put our own, broken sense of what spirituality should look like onto it.

And, once this happens, another phrase results: "spiritual truth."

Once something spiritual is defined in human terms that make sense to sensible beings, truth claims can start being made.

The problem with this is, everyone who claims to have this insider's knowledge of what's spiritually true comes up with different measuring sticks to gauge it with.

And so, when we take the Gospels for instance, we have four differing accounts of Jesus' life.
      What's true for Matthew, isn't true for Mark, isn't true for Luke, and so on. It's the nature of journalism and eyewitness accounts. Everybody witnesses things differently.

And, when we take U.S. history, we have differing accounts of what happened when the Pilgrims first made it to the New Land.
And, with the dinosaurs.
And, with every news report.
And, with every government scandal.

So, as a Christian who grew up with this idea that certain people had insider's knowledge to "spiritual truth," while the rest of us had to crawl around looking for the gurus, it's hard to listen to any lecture outside of a Ted Talk without experiencing the sensation of feeling manipulated.

I can only suspend reality for so long before I have to put my feet back on the floor.

I don't know if this makes sense to anyone, but it's my experience right now.

In order to even have a phrase like "spiritually true" exist in the first place, you have to be able to marry the elements of sixth-sensedness and sound, intution and touch, emotionalism and smell.

Or, "Taste and see that the Lord is good."

Basically, I feel like I've fallen for a God-shaped pyramid scheme.

Someone decided to write down what they thought God was like, and left to the devices of the fucked-up-edness of human beings, it became true. It became boxed in. It became law. 

And the law determines who's in and who's out. Who gets into the God club and who doesn't. 

I wonder what Jesus meant when he said "the truth will set you free."

Did he possibly mean something much simpler than the concept we've somehow turned into law - which is (flippantly and disgustingly unintelligible) "just believe in Jesus and you'll be set free!"

What if the "freedom-setting" truth he was talking about was the horrible idea (to the truth-dependent) of not trying to be so anal about what the truth really is?

What if this being set free that Jesus spoke of so frequently was not about grasping God with our hands and turning spiritual concepts into binding laws that put fences around the unknowable, but letting

            truth be what we can grasp and spirituality be what can't be grasped (aka God). 

 

Some Thoughts About What Jesus Might Do if He Were to Walk Into a Christian Worship Service Any Given Sunday

A story just popped into my head:

What if Jesus were to show up randomly one day to any of our "synagogues" (assuming he'd even want to walk into a synagogue considering how many open-air amphiteatres and parks are around)? Lets just say he walked into any of our church services and as soon as he found a seat in the back somewhere, he looked up onto the powerpoint and saw words about him, solely about him. The words said things like "his blood set us free, he forgave our sins once and for all, he came back from calvary, etc."

You would think (because you were singing the songs about him) that if you looked at his face as he was sitting there, he'd be smiling, kind of pridefully.

      He'd probably feel elevated right?
                 
            Or maybe he'd feel blessed?

                   Or maybe he'd feel really loved?

                            Or maybe he'd feel like he was worthy of worship?

            Or maybe, this is just what we'd think if we were to actually see Jesus sitting in a service that was all about him . . .

But . . . 

What if Jesus did show up? What if he did hear songs being sung about him? What if he did hear the pastor say that Jesus was the only way to God?

And to our amazement, we expected to see an elevated . . . blessed . . . loved . . . worthy . . . Jesus . . .

       But what we got instead was completely not what we expected. 

                This Jesus stood up right in the middle of it all . . . and flipped over the offering tables . . . and the hymnal stands . . . and started ripping down the statues . . . the projectors . . . the cameras . . .

And walked up to the front of the auditorium, grabbed the mike from the pastor [who's passing out] and said authoritatively,

"Why do you call me good? No one is good, only God." 

And then he walks off the stage, obviously fighting back the vague memories of a people from the past who wandered around like lost sheep looking for a shepherd.

What would you do?
What would you think?
What would you feel?

Would you feel like every bit of your faith was ripped from your hands?

Would you feel crushed?

Would you feel like you'd been doing the best you could, but were suddenly told by the one person you wanted to please all this time that you were worshiping something other than God?

Or would you feel relieved that after all this time you thought that if you didn't worship Jesus you were gonna somehow be cut off from God or punished or sent to hell?

What if Jesus's greatest mission was to point people to the one true God, and not become the one true God himself?

That'd be pretty scandalous, wouldn't it be?

Tour De Braz

Larry and I began training for this ride back in December after Fred (another neighbor) fixed my back wheel.

We took the 100 mile loop.  Larry made it over the bridges.  I drafted off Larry.  Got to ride in a bike train in the beginning.

With stops, it took us 7 hours.  Lots of head and cross winds.

After quitting my cycling days, I got back in the saddle. I'm proud of us for training and sticking with the plan.  It feels like a real accomplishment.  We did it.