Still Waters

I was in a car with a friend.  We were talking about purpose and meaning and contentment and fullness and joy and passion and heart cry and how it relates to work.

It was a stimulating conversation at first, but halfway through the drive I found myself feeling exhausted and irritated.  There were some other factors at play that had to do with energy and hunger levels, but the dialogue was losing ground for me fast.

It wasn't until several hours after our discussion ended and I had a moment to process my thoughts that I realized where the issue lay.

I am content.

The thought was like inhaling the freshest, cleanest air I had ever tasted, and it caught me completely off guard.

Rewind a little bit.

Several months before this conversation with my friend, I had a talk with another friend where they challenged me on my perception of contentment.  I was(and am) working in a job that I didn't dream of doing when I was planning out my life.  This was several months after starting that job.

Rewind some more.

Two weeks short of a year ago, I finished working somewhere that helped me discover my heart's cry and passion.  It was amazing.  I only left because we felt it was time to move to another town for various reasons.

Fast forward to the second friend.

I had become a little bitter and hugely frustrated:  Right after discovering what I felt I was made to do, I found myself stuck in a job that didn't fit.  It was(is) a good job, and I work for good people, but I wanted to be doing what I wanted to be doing.

My friend that challenged me on my lack of contentment said some very poignant words that stuck like glue.  He told a story that ended with an angry, frustrated prayer which was followed by a striking response from God:

Is being with me not enough for you?

My friend said it wasn't at the time, but now he can honestly say it is.

I nodded, smiled, pretended this was a new revelation, but truthfully I(and probably you) have heard this kind of story many times before.  Interpret how you will, but I felt like this was a concept I already understood: true contentment comes from being content in the present with what you have regardless of circumstance.  As long as you are at peace with God, you are at peace with everything and everyone.

I thought I got it, until I got it.

I am content.

Nothing has changed.  My circumstance still isn't everything my heart cries out for.  There are things I desire to do with my skills and passions, and I'm working towards those when I have time.

But what do I have now?  What do I have right here?

A wife(her eyes go deeper than the deepest wells).  A daughter(her laugh and her smile obliterate all darkness).  A roof over my head.  A job that pays our bills.  Friends.  Family.  A 10 month old that sleeps through the night(hallelujah!).

Don't get me wrong, contentedness didn't magically happen.  There were some rough steps along the way.  I started trying to fill all my extra time outside of work with active steps toward doing what I love.  I still do this sometimes, but I was doing it so much that I didn't have any energy left for my wife and daughter.

I'm gonna say that again.  It's important and I don't want you to miss it.

I was doing it so much that I didn't have any energy left for my wife and daughter.

So I took a step back, focused on being present, and a few weeks later I was in a car with a friend; talking about purpose and meaning and contentment and fullness and joy and passion and heart cry and how it relates to work.

--

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures(perhaps because we don't have enough sense to do it ourselves?)
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table for me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
forever."

- Psalm 23

By the way, I don't place any blame for my exhaustion and irritation on the friend in the car.  They are near and dear to my heart and always will be.

How to Stay Calm in the Midst of Chaos

Have you noticed the trees lately?

A lot has been happening in the world around us. Much of it has been invoking quite a bit of passionate discussion and argument from many people. There seems to be noise on every side. But trees are not bothered by any of it.

They watch and wait and stay stoically quiet as the world carries on around them. They do not waver. They do not falter. They cannot be provoked and never seem arrogant. They are like silent, wise and patient giants.

In a sea of uproar the trees hold their tongues, waiting patiently to be noticed, and--if given enough attention--heard. For if you listen long enough, you might find that the trees do indeed speak. They whisper with the wind as their branches wave to and fro in a slow, elegant dance.

The trees have seen much; plenty more than you and I. Some have been seeing since before we were born. Some, perhaps, since before our ancestors even set foot in our respective countries. They are waiting. They long to tell us their stories--for they have many. Tales of wisdom, tragedy, terror, and beauty are written, etched, and scribed into their bark.

If we would but sit and notice.


Be still.



Muzzle our minds and quiet our hearts.




We may hear the trees breathe.





Softly, gently, ever so gently, they may choose to share with us legends of old.







Harken to the trees. Heed to the sway of their boughs. Pay attention to the rustling of their leaves. They are waiting for us to listen and learn.








Have you noticed the trees lately?

The Scratching

It is as if my body were a coffin in which the holy spirit lay.  I am six feet separated at least from all manner of people.  Yet the holy spirit within me is alive and vibrant and full of a ferocious love.  It is clawing, biting, scratching and gnawing at the insides of my coffin-body.  But it can never break out, for I alone have been given the keys to the coffin, and the walls at which the holy spirit scratches are of its own design: impenetrable by none other than myself.

I feel the holy spirit throwing itself against my lid: it is desperate to escape.  Not for its own life or breath or safety, but for the life and breath and love of those who walk six feet above.

I know this because at certain instances I have opened the lid of my coffin.  I have never felt such joy as I have on those occasions.  I have never known elation like that of allowing the holy spirit out of my coffin and into the hearts of others.  Yet I have also never known such discomfort.  The hearts of others are six feet separate, after all; held apart from me by dirt and rock and root.

Have you ever dug a six foot hole by hand?  It is gruelling.  By the time you are done, your hands are bleeding, blistered, and raw.  Your shoulders ache.  Your arms feel like weights and your back screams in protest.  All for the joy and elation of love from the holy spirit working through me?  Surely not.

Must it not be better instead to simply endure the constant sound of fingernails on wood?  I am finding it is not.  The scratching is not only endless; it increases in volume with each passing day: building on itself with the momentous force of an orchestra that has no foreseeable crescendo.

To release the relentless force of love is like releasing a wild beast.  The energy used to contain it is suddenly free to run with it.  I know this, but whenever someone treads close to my coffin I endure the frantic scratching and attempt to quiet it with reason.

"Settle down"

"I'm sure she's fine"

"If he were really in a bad way he would ask me for help"

"Someone else will do it"

"If I ask about their day I'll have to have a conversation"

"I might upset them"

"They don't look friendly"

"They will think me strange"

As I let them walk away I feel a heart crack within my coffin.  I frantically begin to dig, suddenly realizing my foolishness.  What could have been a wonderful interaction is awkward and stilted as I leap, bloodied and aching, from my grave.  I shake the hand of the person the spirit desires to love and I walk away shortly after, thinking that it might be best to simply leave the coffin open forever.

"But not today" I think as I pour a shovelful of dirt back over my coffin-heart.

Cornucopia

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Persecuted? Or just a jerk?

Haters gonna hate. 

Have you ever had a conversation that goes something like the one below?

You: “I was listening to a great podcast by (some christian author) the other day—“

Friend: “Whoa..(some christian author)?  Careful, man, (some christian author) has some pretty iffy beliefs”

You: “Yea, I’ve heard, but this podcast really was quite good.  They were talking about (insert compelling topic here) and had some really interesting perspectives.”

Friend: “Hm.  I don’t know.  I heard (some christrian author)’s not even a pastor.”

Or perhaps you’ve had a conversation that has gone more like this one:

Friend: “I just have no patience for talking to non-christians about faith.”

You: “Why’s that?”

Friend: “Every time I’ve tried to talk to someone about being a Christian they’ve just called me judgemental”

You: “Why do you think that is?”

Friend: “They’re just ignorant and need Jesus.”

These are pretty dumbed down examples, but you get the idea. 

Living in Christian circles has forced me to have these types of conversations all my life.  Lately it has been bothering me more and more, and I think I may have finally figured out why.

There seems to be an incessant need amongst the Christian community to point out what is and isn’t worth believing or subscribing to, as well as a need to dictate what is and isn’t good theology, and who does or doesn’t know what they’re talking about.  I could write plenty about this being the result of an insecurity in our personal faith, but instead I’ll do this:

In his lifetime, Jesus is recorded as confronting and challenging many things about the Jewish faith of his day.  As a result, combined with his persecution/crucifixion and resurrection, we have modern Christianity. 

At first glance, this makes it seem that when we challenge, confront, or disagree with people or organizations who appear to sway from ‘the truth’ we are living like Jesus.  We think we are following Christ’s example when we confront others and are treated poorly for our faith. 

But let’s take another look. 

When Jesus challenged the religious leaders of his day, was he calling them out for being too forward thinking, or too religious?  When Jesus was persecuted, was it for being too religious, or too heretical? 

One of the most common words that gets thrown around when I hear my Christian friends criticizing well-known thinkers is exactly that: heretic.

I am by no means suggesting that every single author or speaker to come out with some new and challenging idea about God and Christianity is following after God’s heart, but what I am absolutely suggesting is that perhaps we have it backwards. 

Perhaps we are calling ourselves persecuted when we are actually just being a jerk and being treated as such.  Perhaps we are calling public figures heretics when they are in fact being persecuted for challenging us to stretch our religious bubbles.

Perhaps we think we are being like Christ, when in fact we are being much more like Pharisees.

“You are jealous of one another and quarrel with each other. Doesn’t that prove you are controlled by your sinful nature? Aren’t you living like people of the world?  When one of you says, “I am a follower of Paul,” and another says, “I follow Apollos,” aren’t you acting just like people of the world?

After all, who is Apollos? Who is Paul? We are only God’s servants through whom you believed the Good News.”

- 1 Corinthians 3:3-5 (NLT)

Something to Say

I hate that I’m doing this.  

I swore off blogging a few years ago.  There are a lot of reasons for that—some good and some bad—but that’s not what I’m here to write about.

Blogging is such a wonderful thing when it’s done well.  The best blogs I’ve read are ones that make observations on life, offer a possible take-away, and send you on your way.  Naturally, this is what I tried to do in the past with my own blog.

The trouble with taking my own observations and writing them down for others to read is that somehow, for one reason or another, once I had spent several hours trying to capture an observation and make it accessible for others it had turned sour: Every time I tried to help others grasp what I was grasping, I found I could no longer grasp it myself.  Not only that; I had no more desire to grasp it in the first place.

What part of writing precious observations down turned them sour? 

A couple weeks ago was Easter, and for a few weeks before that was the season of lent.  This year, for the first time in my life, I decided to partake in lent: I was giving up video games and social media for forty days.  The only social media outlets I would allow myself to engage in were ones that enabled actual, necessary communication with others(i.e. Facebook messenger).

To avoid going off on an unnecessary tangent, I’ll simply say that the reasoning for abandoning these things was because I felt I needed a good, long break from them.  Plain and simple: I felt like my life had an anchor around its neck labelled, ‘video games and social media’.  

I’m still unpacking the things I learned in that ‘lenten season’.  I won’t try to explain them to you.  See above.

Instead, I’ll do this:

There is a quote that floats around writing societies which has become a common phrase.  You may know it.  It goes like this: 

“You don’t write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say.”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Social media and blogs gave me the impression that I had something to say, and I’m fairly convinced I’m not the only one who gets wrapped up in that illusion.  

What I found when I partook in my lenten fast is that I certainly do have lots of good things to say; I have lots to say about love.  I have plenty to say about God.  I have so much to say about joy.  I have loads and loads on how our society could be so much better.  But when I took away the ability to say those things on a computer, I discovered the ability to say them without talking about them at all.

Rather than try to explain how deep and complex the love in a marriage is, I made dinner with my wife.  

Rather than try to explain how God is found in the low places, I spent time with people in low places of life.

Rather than attempt to capture joy in a sentence, I ate meals with good friends.

Instead of telling society what was wrong with it, I started asking strangers how their day was going.

Did you catch it?

What am I saying about marriage or love when I make dinner with my wife?

What are you saying about God when you spend time with people in “low” places?

What are we saying about joy when we laugh with friends?

I want to write so much more; to bottle up what I’m trying to communicate in a perfect little package, but I can’t.  

I think that’s because the things really worth communicating are far, far bigger than words.

Are You a Threat?

There's a story in the bible about seven dudes who are called the sons of Sceva.  According to the story Sceva was a Jewish chief priest, and his sons seemed to be attempting to impress him by casting out a demon.  The story is found in Acts 19:11-16, and takes place during Paul's ministry.  We are told that it was well known that Paul was doing some pretty intense stuff.  Miracles like casting out demons and healing were happening regularly.

Because Paul did such, "cool" and, "impressive" things, and because he talked about Jesus, it looks like the Sons of Sceva put two and two together: Paul talks a lot about Jesus and he does miracles like casting out demons, therefore in order to cast out a demon we must have to mention Jesus.  So that's what they did.

The story goes that the Seven Sons of Sceva approached a man who was demon-possessed, and addressed the demon, saying these words: "I command you by the Jesus whom Paul preaches to come out!".  Different versions arrange the words differently from time to time, but the idea and command is the same.  The demon, in what I imagine was a terrifyingly confident and mocking voice, replied with this: "Jesus I know, and Paul I recognize--but who are you?" The story then tells us that he leaped upon them, and beat the living daylights out of all seven of them.  All seven.  The bible literally says they ran out of that house, "naked and wounded".

Whenever I used to read this story, or heard pastors talk about it, the focus always seemed to be on the method.  Everyone always seems to bash the Sons of Sceva for not knowing how to properly perform an exorcism, or for not having enough confidence, authority, and faith in Christ.  Up until recently I believed that this stuff really was the root of the problem, and spent my life living in fear that if I ever came across someone who was demon-possessed I might not have the confidence, authority, or know-how to, 'scare away' the demon.

But is that really the issue with the Sons of Sceva?  Were they really just not schooled enough in the, "Art of exorcism"?

About a month ago I was reading a book called Love Does by a man named Bob Goff(excellent read, highly recommend it).  In one of the chapters he very briefly mentions the Sons of Sceva, and alludes to the fact that he thinks the root of the problem is exactly what the demon said: it had no idea who they were.

They had done nothing for the enemy to take notice of.

Christians talk a lot about Spiritual Warfare.  And we do it in a lot of big words.  We make it sound like a very complex, intense, CRAZY thing that only happens when we are praying for people who are demon-possessed, or when we hear about huge catastrophes happening around the world.  Or, we just straight up say its only happening between the angels and demons, and that we have nothing to do with it except that we're the prize they're all fighting for.  While I do not at all refute the fact that so much of spiritual warfare takes place where we can not see it, and that it is indeed happening when exorcisms are performed or when children are being slaughtered by ISIS, I don't think this war is only happening when it is plainly visible.  And I don't think that any human at any point in time is just a bystander.  If anything, those catastrophes and exorcisms are skirmishes and diversions that result from the main part of the war: Everyday life.

Every single day we are faced with decisions.  Every single day we have opportunities to speak words of either love, hate, or indifference(which, for anyone who has been ignored or treated as irrelevant, can be just as bad--if not worse--than words of hate) to each and every person we interact with whether it's a coffee barista, a co-worker, our kids, or our spouse.  Each decision and word takes a step in one of two directions: the direction of the enemy, or the direction of God and His love.  There is no in between.  I think this is one of the reasons that Jesus has such a hard time with people who are, "Luke-warm"(Revelations 3:14-21). 

If Satan and his demons are as real and evil as we claim to believe they are, then we can be sure of the fact that they are an army hell-bent(no pun intended) on the complete obliteration of all love and goodness, and they most definitely communicate with each other.  And if Satan is as cunning and smart as the bible claims him to be, then you can be sure he makes it a priority to identify his biggest threats in the war.  I'm sure that list has plenty of exorcists on it, and no doubt there are more than a few pastors on there.  But do you know who I think makes the top of that list?  Loving mothers and fathers.  Nurses who work extra hard just to make sure their patients are comfortable AND getting healed.  People who go out of their own way to be kind, gentle, patient, giving, and loving.  People who live a lifestyle that stems from--and, as a result, proclaims--love.  These people won't be found seeking out demons to exorcise or arguing with athiests.  They'll be found in their kitchens making meals for friends who are low on income.  They'll be seen having actual conversations with the homeless guy on the corner that everyone else just throws money at or ignores.  They'll be overheard laughing with people, crying with people, and singing with people.  They are the real threats to Satan's battle strategy: they are the ones who make conscious decisions every day to love people.

Now, if someone like that did come across a demon-possessed person, I can't say for sure whether or not the demon would listen to them.  Honestly I can't.  There's a lot about exorcisms, demons, and the spiritual side of things that I truly DON'T know.  But I'd be willing to bet quite a lot of money that the demon would at least recognize who that person is, and it would probably be feeling anxious.

The issue with the Sons of Sceva wasn't that they, "did it wrong".  The issue is that they weren't a threat.  They didn't live lives that were concerning to the enemy or disastrous to his plans.  He wasn't worried about them, and he certainly wasn't afraid of them.

The title of this post has become a question that I now try to integrate into my life and ask myself every single day: Are you a threat?  Are you a living, loving, frustrating threat?