I have been in a funk lately, all full of discontent and disquiet. Nothing has been making me happy and most of my mental moments have been self-centered whining and complaining. I am sure I'm not the only one who encounters this, my relentless mental criticism of everyday things for a season. I was quite suddenly aware that God didn't seem to be very close or making anything better in my life.
Last night was a particularly difficult struggle. I slept for fifteen minutes and woke up fully aware and ready to go as if I'd slept eight hours. For the next three hours I was tossing and turning, praying and complaining to God, wondering why He wasn't apparently available to ease my struggles. No matter how much I kept telling myself the truth of the situations I was pissy about, no matter how many scriptures I brought to mind, no matter how much I begged and pleaded for Him to make everything better again, nothing worked. I was in chaos, weakly fending off the volley of lies from the enemy. Briefly I had the thought when things were at their worst that I should catch up on all the devotions i had been neglecting all week because of our family vacation. Grumpily, and in Eeyore's unmistakable voice, I brushed the thought aside saying, "Well...if prayer isn't going to work I don't see why reading the Bible will change anything..."
This morning I woke up in very much the same mood. Everything felt wrong. I was without joy. It didn't take much for mine Kinder to grate on what was apparently my last nerve like they had every day for the last week. There was a huge list of things to do just to keep the apartment in a status that didn't invite vermin or disease. Why was I bothering anyway? Nobody appreciates it. If I happened to disappear the kids would only notice because a snack or meal was late, and my wife would likely only notice because she didn't come home to "Guess what your (insert child) did today? We've got to do something about him/her". When was the last time I was happy? When was the last time I felt appreciated? And LORD why aren't you doing something about it?!?!
I sucked it up, manned up, bit the bullet, fed and washed the kids, loaded them up into the car, dropped the boy off at pre-school and begrudgingly agreed to take my daughter to our favorite cafe to do home school. I didn't want to. I couldn't think of a single reason why I should "reward" her with that. Apparently that's what my parenting had boiled down to lately...transaction based.
She got her Italian Cream soda, I got my Hazelnut latte, and we broke out the books. To my chagrin I noticed that we were not two days behind, but three days instead. She started her Language sections and I opened my Bible.
I am convinced that there is this moment of anticipation that occurs, perhaps experienced by the Lord or perhaps the angels, when you've had a bad time and you finally reach for that Bible. You open the cover, flip through the pages, maybe begrudgingly, maybe out of duty.
Today it was John 6, a familiar passage that I was almost petulantly skimming over. I mean, it's the Feeding of the Five Thousand. I have read it a bajillion times, seen the cartoon, had a t-shirt. I stopped and forced myself to remember that it is the word of God so maybe I should give it the respect of actually reading each sentence. I was mildly amused that there is a bit of a hidden miracle after the feeding and after Jesus walking on water. Verse 21 says "Then they willingly received Him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land where they were going." Yeah. Not enough to feed 5k people and walk on water, He teleports the boat.
I read through how the 5k follow him to Capernaum already wanting to make Him a king the day before. They find Him and oddly ask Him when He came there. His response rang like a gong in my soul, in my situation.
"Most assuredly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled."
I hurt. I crumpled. I repented.
So many times I want to believe I'm better and smarter than many of the people in the Bible. I chuckle at Peter, shake my head at the Pharisees and yet each of them is a reflection of my own heart. It is no less true of me and the 5k.
I want Him to be king because of the good stuff I'm going to get. I am going to my stomach filled, my days full of lollipops and sunshine, and if I don't it is His fault. I will go my own way, rate my sins on a scale so that I don't feel too guilty about the ones I enjoy, read his New Testament commands an decide whether I feel like it or not, do my devotions based on whether it's interesting or convenient and then act surprised when my mind is full of chaos and I can't seem to hear or feel the presence of the Lord.
In Nordic culture, in the time of Beowulf, the man who became king was the man who gave treasure away. He was only beloved by his people so long as he kept giving them things. If the gravy train ever stopped the people would find a new king. I have to wonder if that is not an apt metaphor for how we in America tend to think of God. It is clearly a trap I fall into.
Do I love the King or do I love the peace He gives me? Do I love the King or do I love the joy? Do I love the King or the fact that He answers my prayers? Do I love the King because of what He has blessed me with or because of who He is?
Personally I would have to say that my reaction to adversity (Where's God? Why hasn't He fixed this?) proclaims my oh so palsied heart. With very many in my faith, I'm sure, I want to do whatever I have to in order to get the effect rather than falling in love with the cause.
As always, "I believe! Lord, help my unbelief."
Pax,
W
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Thomas, known as The Doubter...
Over the Easter holiday one of my greatest spiritual pet peeves came to the forefront. Amidst all of the "He has risen"s and reflexive "He is risen indeed!"s, while Christians spoke of the joys of the resurrected life, and how wondrous the actual event must be, there was, as always, the maligning of a particular disciple of Jesus.
Thomas. Thomas the doubter. Doubting Thomas.
I mean, look at him over there, sulking in a corner, testy whenever anyone brings up the rumored resurrection. Silly Thomas. Puny in Faith Thomas. What kind of disciple is he going to grow up to be if he can't even believe in the resurrection after the crucifixion. If he'd just get that big brain out of the way he could experience so much joy. Why was he one of the Twelve again if he wasn't going to believe in miraculous things? I may not be a spiritual giant, but I'm sure no Doubting Thomas, amiright?
If you've spent some time with me over the course of this blog then you know that I have more than a little respect for Thomas the Apostle. Though I am of a protestant bent, I claim him as my "patron saint". Traditionally he is the patron saint of architects and an eastern country that we'll name in a bit. He died on December 21st, in the year 72.
In my original version of this post I went down a list of the three times Thomas speaks up in the Gospel of John. It was actually quite an academic approach...which is probably why I scrapped it. I'm not much for the academic form and process. I'm a story teller. So lets skip the bits that set up my point that Thomas was the one guy in the room who was going to say what everyone was thinking. You can find them. Let's skip the bits that establish my point that of all the apostles he was probably the most intellectually honest. You can do your own homework. You're smart enough. Let's skip that and get to the bit of the story that actually earned Thomas the title and made it an insult or at least a disparaging term among both Christians and non-Christians alike.
The week had been a big one so far. From the triumphal entry, to the Last Supper, to the garden arrest, to the crucifixion, it was a lot to take in and process. Imagine walking into Jerusalem, the Holy City where God met with the High Priest in the Holy Temple, with the crowds cheering for your teacher. You couldn't help but get excited about what might be coming next. The largest city in all of Israel, the capital, and you suddenly realize that your teacher and your fellow disciples apparently have the will of the people on your side. Everyone is shouting for joy to God...well, everyone but the pharisees and saducees but you're not sure the last time you actually saw any of them do anything but scowl and murmur together trying to cook up some sort of trick question for your teacher. The atmosphere would have been electric. Anything could happen, even the overthrow of the pagan Roman occupiers.
Jesus routs the money changers and merchants from out of the temple. Now the Roman's aren't the only ones who are going to get it in the new kingdom, so to is the corrupted Jewish system. A full cleansing of Israel seems eminent.
The upper room is filled with candle light, Your teacher disrobes, grabs a towel and a basin, and begins to watch each of his student's feet. It is a crazy juxtaposition, a upside down sense of duty and honor, so much so that it is not surprising that Peter initially refuses to allow it. The master is above the servant, the teacher worthy of more honor above the student. To Jesus it is the foundation of His Kingdom, He says, just how things are and work. Later Jesus describes the inevitability of His death. He has been on about his death for ages, but many of his students disregard it as crazy talk. How can a King establish a Kingdom by dying? It must be somewhere later down the road, or perhaps it's a symbolic death. Kingdoms are upturned, and thrones usurped by a King's death, not established.
Then Judas is called out as a betrayer. The teacher doesn't even act angry about the fact of his betrayal. He even bids the man to go and do it rather than stop him. But the meal continues.
In the garden is where the dream begins to die. Heavily armed guards arrest the teacher, they take Him to where He is beaten and fraudulently accused of things He never did. Fist shaped bruises blossom on His cheek, a white pair to teeth lay on the floor, their roots crimson against the dirt. From there the teacher is taken from official to official, beaten by one, mocked by another, and that's when you begin to feel a creeping sense of dread. First it was shock, now it has turned sour in your stomach. The air is thick with it. Days ago your ears shuddered at the sound of praises, more thunderously the people cry their curses. The people are shouting for the innocent teacher's life to be sacrificed on the cross in the place of a murderous man. It was a shock to hear that Peter denied the teacher, but now denial seems to be an option as your survival instinct kicks in, as the crowd turn uglier than you've ever seen it. He is condemned to death. In the minds of the people it is for insurrection and/or blasphemy. It never fares much better for known associates of the condemned when it comes to insurrection, and you would be marked for life for blasphemy.
At the foot of the cross you hear the people mock Him. They question why, if He is so holy and the Son of God, He doesn't just pull Himself off the cross. You can't help but wonder that as well as you mourn what you are seeing. You put all your proverbial chips on this number. You saw miracles, healings, exorcisms, and now this? Why wouldn't He be able to. He dies, gives up His last breath. The sky goes dark, a great earthquake hits and you thank God for the confusion as fear gives way to panic and you slip away.
They mourned for days, all together in one place. Thomas wasn't immune to it. The dream was over, whatever dream each disciple had in their hearts. They were afraid, confused, and each of them questioning God I have no doubt. They were being hunted by the Romans already, the rumor being that they wanted to make sure the Disciples didn't try and rob the grave. The land was in a full blown panic over the teacher's death and the following signs. The temple veil was torn as if by an invisible hand. People walked out of their graves full of life again. What did it all mean? The temple veil was particularly troubling. Rumors of all kinds flew. Every hour someone brought them news. In the morning was when the women returned to them telling them the tomb was empty, and there was an angel. John and Peter took off like a shot to the tomb while the rest remained fretting and wondering what it could mean. Was it the Romans? The Temple Guard under the orders of the High Priest to cast shame and suspicion upon them? John and Peter return with the same story. The stone was rolled away, the cloths folded neatly. One by one they begin to assume. But not Thomas.
He wants it to be true, but no. He wishes it could be true. Jesus had raised the dead before, but...
"Thomas, come on, He said it Himself. In three days He would rebuild,"
"I know what He said. I was there. He said the Temple."
"Then you know it's possible. The body is a temple."
"There are a hundred things that are possible. We don't know what happened. The women didn't see, Peter and John didn't see what happened. We don't know."
"Why won't you entertain it at least?"
"I do! In my heart I want it to be true, but I can't say that it is true when I don't know it to be true."
"Come on, Thomas. Just believe. You're just sore because we saw Him and you didn't."
"No!" he chokes on his tears. "I won't. I won't believe until I touch the holes in his hands and put my hand in his side."
What picture do you have when you read the scene as Jesus appears in the room and invites Thomas to touch, and put his hand in the Lord's side? Does Thomas just walk up dispassionately, objectively, and examines the wounds? Does he ashamedly just ascent intellectually with a nod toward Jesus?
In my mind he is filled with holy fear as every possibility and impossibility coalesces into one reality for him. His hear leaps into his throat as Jesus stands open armed welcoming his examination. Jesus nods for him to go ahead and shaking Thomas makes the the rounds from hand, to hand, to His side.
A remarkable thing happens to Thomas. Peter declared that Jesus was the Son of God. Thomas, however, dropped to his knees and said, "My Lord and my God". That's huge. A Jewish man declared that Jesus was Lord and God...one and the same...the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob there before him. It is easy to assume that he was "late to the party" with this realization, but there is no indication that anyone else had made that connection.
Further remarkable things happen to Thomas. This "lesser disciple", as some treat him, went farther with the Gospel than any other. This doubter took the largest leap of faith, leaving behind culture, language, civilization, and every point of familiarity to follow the spirit's leading to India where he established at least 15 churches and what would become "the Oriental Orthodox Church". I can only imagine the shock it must have been for the English missionaries to come and find people who already knew the Gospel as a result of already being "Saint Thomas Christians".
In my mind Thomas was a man who was extremely honest about himself and what he believed. I think his "doubt" was very much that of a grieving man who wanted to believe, but whose heart was broken. He wasn't going to admit what he had not seen and experienced. Perhaps it is a bit of pride in me, but I believe he and I would get along very well, kindred spirits cut from the same cloth, constantly assessing, reassessing, and questioning what we think we know in order to be sure we are grounded in the Truth. There is no shame in that, not character flaw to be mocked. Perhaps others are more blessed because they believe immediately. Peter may have been the "Rock", but given how far Thomas went and what he achieved I'd say he was certainly "sure footed".
Pax,
P
Thomas. Thomas the doubter. Doubting Thomas.
I mean, look at him over there, sulking in a corner, testy whenever anyone brings up the rumored resurrection. Silly Thomas. Puny in Faith Thomas. What kind of disciple is he going to grow up to be if he can't even believe in the resurrection after the crucifixion. If he'd just get that big brain out of the way he could experience so much joy. Why was he one of the Twelve again if he wasn't going to believe in miraculous things? I may not be a spiritual giant, but I'm sure no Doubting Thomas, amiright?
If you've spent some time with me over the course of this blog then you know that I have more than a little respect for Thomas the Apostle. Though I am of a protestant bent, I claim him as my "patron saint". Traditionally he is the patron saint of architects and an eastern country that we'll name in a bit. He died on December 21st, in the year 72.
In my original version of this post I went down a list of the three times Thomas speaks up in the Gospel of John. It was actually quite an academic approach...which is probably why I scrapped it. I'm not much for the academic form and process. I'm a story teller. So lets skip the bits that set up my point that Thomas was the one guy in the room who was going to say what everyone was thinking. You can find them. Let's skip the bits that establish my point that of all the apostles he was probably the most intellectually honest. You can do your own homework. You're smart enough. Let's skip that and get to the bit of the story that actually earned Thomas the title and made it an insult or at least a disparaging term among both Christians and non-Christians alike.
The week had been a big one so far. From the triumphal entry, to the Last Supper, to the garden arrest, to the crucifixion, it was a lot to take in and process. Imagine walking into Jerusalem, the Holy City where God met with the High Priest in the Holy Temple, with the crowds cheering for your teacher. You couldn't help but get excited about what might be coming next. The largest city in all of Israel, the capital, and you suddenly realize that your teacher and your fellow disciples apparently have the will of the people on your side. Everyone is shouting for joy to God...well, everyone but the pharisees and saducees but you're not sure the last time you actually saw any of them do anything but scowl and murmur together trying to cook up some sort of trick question for your teacher. The atmosphere would have been electric. Anything could happen, even the overthrow of the pagan Roman occupiers.
Jesus routs the money changers and merchants from out of the temple. Now the Roman's aren't the only ones who are going to get it in the new kingdom, so to is the corrupted Jewish system. A full cleansing of Israel seems eminent.
The upper room is filled with candle light, Your teacher disrobes, grabs a towel and a basin, and begins to watch each of his student's feet. It is a crazy juxtaposition, a upside down sense of duty and honor, so much so that it is not surprising that Peter initially refuses to allow it. The master is above the servant, the teacher worthy of more honor above the student. To Jesus it is the foundation of His Kingdom, He says, just how things are and work. Later Jesus describes the inevitability of His death. He has been on about his death for ages, but many of his students disregard it as crazy talk. How can a King establish a Kingdom by dying? It must be somewhere later down the road, or perhaps it's a symbolic death. Kingdoms are upturned, and thrones usurped by a King's death, not established.
Then Judas is called out as a betrayer. The teacher doesn't even act angry about the fact of his betrayal. He even bids the man to go and do it rather than stop him. But the meal continues.
In the garden is where the dream begins to die. Heavily armed guards arrest the teacher, they take Him to where He is beaten and fraudulently accused of things He never did. Fist shaped bruises blossom on His cheek, a white pair to teeth lay on the floor, their roots crimson against the dirt. From there the teacher is taken from official to official, beaten by one, mocked by another, and that's when you begin to feel a creeping sense of dread. First it was shock, now it has turned sour in your stomach. The air is thick with it. Days ago your ears shuddered at the sound of praises, more thunderously the people cry their curses. The people are shouting for the innocent teacher's life to be sacrificed on the cross in the place of a murderous man. It was a shock to hear that Peter denied the teacher, but now denial seems to be an option as your survival instinct kicks in, as the crowd turn uglier than you've ever seen it. He is condemned to death. In the minds of the people it is for insurrection and/or blasphemy. It never fares much better for known associates of the condemned when it comes to insurrection, and you would be marked for life for blasphemy.
At the foot of the cross you hear the people mock Him. They question why, if He is so holy and the Son of God, He doesn't just pull Himself off the cross. You can't help but wonder that as well as you mourn what you are seeing. You put all your proverbial chips on this number. You saw miracles, healings, exorcisms, and now this? Why wouldn't He be able to. He dies, gives up His last breath. The sky goes dark, a great earthquake hits and you thank God for the confusion as fear gives way to panic and you slip away.
They mourned for days, all together in one place. Thomas wasn't immune to it. The dream was over, whatever dream each disciple had in their hearts. They were afraid, confused, and each of them questioning God I have no doubt. They were being hunted by the Romans already, the rumor being that they wanted to make sure the Disciples didn't try and rob the grave. The land was in a full blown panic over the teacher's death and the following signs. The temple veil was torn as if by an invisible hand. People walked out of their graves full of life again. What did it all mean? The temple veil was particularly troubling. Rumors of all kinds flew. Every hour someone brought them news. In the morning was when the women returned to them telling them the tomb was empty, and there was an angel. John and Peter took off like a shot to the tomb while the rest remained fretting and wondering what it could mean. Was it the Romans? The Temple Guard under the orders of the High Priest to cast shame and suspicion upon them? John and Peter return with the same story. The stone was rolled away, the cloths folded neatly. One by one they begin to assume. But not Thomas.
He wants it to be true, but no. He wishes it could be true. Jesus had raised the dead before, but...
"Thomas, come on, He said it Himself. In three days He would rebuild,"
"I know what He said. I was there. He said the Temple."
"Then you know it's possible. The body is a temple."
"There are a hundred things that are possible. We don't know what happened. The women didn't see, Peter and John didn't see what happened. We don't know."
"Why won't you entertain it at least?"
"I do! In my heart I want it to be true, but I can't say that it is true when I don't know it to be true."
"Come on, Thomas. Just believe. You're just sore because we saw Him and you didn't."
"No!" he chokes on his tears. "I won't. I won't believe until I touch the holes in his hands and put my hand in his side."
What picture do you have when you read the scene as Jesus appears in the room and invites Thomas to touch, and put his hand in the Lord's side? Does Thomas just walk up dispassionately, objectively, and examines the wounds? Does he ashamedly just ascent intellectually with a nod toward Jesus?
In my mind he is filled with holy fear as every possibility and impossibility coalesces into one reality for him. His hear leaps into his throat as Jesus stands open armed welcoming his examination. Jesus nods for him to go ahead and shaking Thomas makes the the rounds from hand, to hand, to His side.
A remarkable thing happens to Thomas. Peter declared that Jesus was the Son of God. Thomas, however, dropped to his knees and said, "My Lord and my God". That's huge. A Jewish man declared that Jesus was Lord and God...one and the same...the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob there before him. It is easy to assume that he was "late to the party" with this realization, but there is no indication that anyone else had made that connection.
Further remarkable things happen to Thomas. This "lesser disciple", as some treat him, went farther with the Gospel than any other. This doubter took the largest leap of faith, leaving behind culture, language, civilization, and every point of familiarity to follow the spirit's leading to India where he established at least 15 churches and what would become "the Oriental Orthodox Church". I can only imagine the shock it must have been for the English missionaries to come and find people who already knew the Gospel as a result of already being "Saint Thomas Christians".
In my mind Thomas was a man who was extremely honest about himself and what he believed. I think his "doubt" was very much that of a grieving man who wanted to believe, but whose heart was broken. He wasn't going to admit what he had not seen and experienced. Perhaps it is a bit of pride in me, but I believe he and I would get along very well, kindred spirits cut from the same cloth, constantly assessing, reassessing, and questioning what we think we know in order to be sure we are grounded in the Truth. There is no shame in that, not character flaw to be mocked. Perhaps others are more blessed because they believe immediately. Peter may have been the "Rock", but given how far Thomas went and what he achieved I'd say he was certainly "sure footed".
Pax,
P
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Easter Morning
Good morning all! Welcome to Resurrection Sunday! The most unlikely/unbelievable/marvelous/shocking bit of the entire story.
As is tradition around here, I am sharing the single most appropriate song I have ever heard for the season. It's by a little known Christian band called Raspberry Jam. Given the title "Easter" it begins with a celebratory reading of an Easter poem, and then the chorus refrains "Easter is for me and my plank-eyed soul".
I am not sure I've ever had a lyric impact my life as much as that one. Someday I might be able to explain the reason better than I could right now.
Enjoy.
As is tradition around here, I am sharing the single most appropriate song I have ever heard for the season. It's by a little known Christian band called Raspberry Jam. Given the title "Easter" it begins with a celebratory reading of an Easter poem, and then the chorus refrains "Easter is for me and my plank-eyed soul".
I am not sure I've ever had a lyric impact my life as much as that one. Someday I might be able to explain the reason better than I could right now.
Enjoy.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
End of Lent Reflections
Why do Lent? Why fast from anything for any amount of time? What does it mean? What's the point?
In modern times fasting is fairly unique and extremely so as a form of worship. Even after completing these 40 days of Lent I find myself still somewhat confused about what fasting is and why we do it. What I do know for sure is that in this modern world where the distance between desire and satisfaction is minuscule, doing without what you want for an extended period of time is almost a revolutionary act.
I haven't had any need to justify fasting to anyone by virtue of my stay-at-home-husband status. Basically the only explanation needed was to my candy and dessert obsessed daughter. I can imagine how it would be in public however. People notice things and would certainly notice my rejecting sodas and sweets. I have often wondered how I would react if questioned. Mostly I see myself shrugging and declaring it a religious thing with some measure of resignation. I wouldn't have a real answer. Experience has taught me that in giving up what I desire, what has been an addiction, something that on some level has controlled me, brings me not closer to God so much as it gives me more of my self to turn over to his control.
One of the things I've discovered as a result of this process that happens to be entirely non spiritual is that sugar had been affecting my health. Well, duh, the health conscious among my audience are probably saying. I can practically hear the forehead slaps and semi patronizing good for you even now as this is in the first draft.
I have lived with pretty much daily acid reflux/indigestion, or whatever people call it, for years. It was only through Lent that I realized it wasn't caused by coffee or spicy food but, instead, sugar. At this realization I did a very small experimentation. Processed sugar was right out. Even in very small amounts it caused the acid. Sugar in the raw at the same amount caused the same reaction but it took much, much longer to hit. The only safe thing was honey. Zero reaction. This will bring quite the change for my life. I'm fairly certain PepsiCo stock will fall, so if you are invested...brace yourself.
It is easy to look at things as having an inescapable hold on us. I spent years thinking that giving up Facebook was too big; bigger even than when I quit smoking cold turkey. So many people have told me how they just can't do it, that somehow my success is a super human anomaly. It really isn't. It feels that way, to be sure, but it doesn't take a super human will.
I've learned a few principles that are so fundamental to human existence that I feel embarrassingly late to the party. Mainly I've learned that nothing has real power over me that I haven't willingly given that power to. I can make decades of excuses about how helpless I am, and without Jesus I'm sure it is true. I give away power with my choices. This has rung true so completely in me that I'm actually looking forward to next year when I'm likely to give up digital media of all sorts for 40 days.
I know, right? Nothing. No Netflix. No Playstation. No movies. No T.V. Shows. Just me and a lot of time spent doing analog things. Giving up Facebook earlier in the year has created so much peace within me...I'm kind of wondering how much more of that there is to be had. How much do these distractions affect us? Would I be better off that way? It is only because of this Lent that it could be possible for me to even consider attempting.
Pax,
W
In modern times fasting is fairly unique and extremely so as a form of worship. Even after completing these 40 days of Lent I find myself still somewhat confused about what fasting is and why we do it. What I do know for sure is that in this modern world where the distance between desire and satisfaction is minuscule, doing without what you want for an extended period of time is almost a revolutionary act.
I haven't had any need to justify fasting to anyone by virtue of my stay-at-home-husband status. Basically the only explanation needed was to my candy and dessert obsessed daughter. I can imagine how it would be in public however. People notice things and would certainly notice my rejecting sodas and sweets. I have often wondered how I would react if questioned. Mostly I see myself shrugging and declaring it a religious thing with some measure of resignation. I wouldn't have a real answer. Experience has taught me that in giving up what I desire, what has been an addiction, something that on some level has controlled me, brings me not closer to God so much as it gives me more of my self to turn over to his control.
One of the things I've discovered as a result of this process that happens to be entirely non spiritual is that sugar had been affecting my health. Well, duh, the health conscious among my audience are probably saying. I can practically hear the forehead slaps and semi patronizing good for you even now as this is in the first draft.
I have lived with pretty much daily acid reflux/indigestion, or whatever people call it, for years. It was only through Lent that I realized it wasn't caused by coffee or spicy food but, instead, sugar. At this realization I did a very small experimentation. Processed sugar was right out. Even in very small amounts it caused the acid. Sugar in the raw at the same amount caused the same reaction but it took much, much longer to hit. The only safe thing was honey. Zero reaction. This will bring quite the change for my life. I'm fairly certain PepsiCo stock will fall, so if you are invested...brace yourself.
It is easy to look at things as having an inescapable hold on us. I spent years thinking that giving up Facebook was too big; bigger even than when I quit smoking cold turkey. So many people have told me how they just can't do it, that somehow my success is a super human anomaly. It really isn't. It feels that way, to be sure, but it doesn't take a super human will.
I've learned a few principles that are so fundamental to human existence that I feel embarrassingly late to the party. Mainly I've learned that nothing has real power over me that I haven't willingly given that power to. I can make decades of excuses about how helpless I am, and without Jesus I'm sure it is true. I give away power with my choices. This has rung true so completely in me that I'm actually looking forward to next year when I'm likely to give up digital media of all sorts for 40 days.
I know, right? Nothing. No Netflix. No Playstation. No movies. No T.V. Shows. Just me and a lot of time spent doing analog things. Giving up Facebook earlier in the year has created so much peace within me...I'm kind of wondering how much more of that there is to be had. How much do these distractions affect us? Would I be better off that way? It is only because of this Lent that it could be possible for me to even consider attempting.
Pax,
W
Friday, March 25, 2016
On Lent: Ungrateful on Good Friday
One of the amazing things about the Bible is that if you read it long enough, eventually you will see yourself. It's not like the "Iliad" or the "Odyssey" where you will see great heroes you want to be like, a goal to aspire to. No. In the Bible you'll see yourself warts and all.
Maybe you recognize yourself in Peter's bull in a china closet sort of brash loyalty and good intentions. Perhaps it is in Thomas' doubt. For some, and I feel echoes of this in my soul as well, it is in the father's desperate cry for his child to be healed where he declares, "I believe!" and then follows it up with equally desperate honest with, "Help my unbelief". I wish that I saw myself in Lazarus' sister Mary who happily sits at the master's feet.
Unfortunately I most clearly find myself in the parable of the ungrateful servant. I reference it regularly in both real life and blog posts. Man owes the king say $500,000. He begs and pleads for forgiveness. King wipes the debt clean. Man sees a fellow servant who owes him $10 and he drags him to court to get him thrown into prison. King takes the first man, condemns him for not being grateful and showing the same kind of forgiveness the king showed him to someone who owed way less, weeping, gnashing of teeth, etc ensues. As a result, in my personal Lent reflections I've been focused on gratitude.
I'm not one of those people who was saved from a life of prostitution, drugs, etc. I am an average joe who grew up in the church, fell away for a bit but nothing major, and came back. I'm kind of a super minor prodigal son. So many people are impressed by those testimonies of being saved from massive darkness, they praise God and rejoice that someone was once saved from so much. I remember many times, hearing those testimonies and actually feeling somehow inadequate. Of course, that comes from a basic misunderstanding of the situation. If you asked those individuals with the Super Testimonies (tm) they'd be the first to tell you that they wish they had my testimony rather than walk through a personal hell.
I've mentioned it before, but the most massive revelation of the past year in my spiritual walk has been from Dr. Charles Stanley, who once said that God didn't send Jesus to save us from what we've done, the sins we've committed. God sent Jesus to save us from what we are.
We'd like to believe that we need Jesus because we at one or many points in time committed this sin, that sin, and violated the laws of God. Those sins are just the symptom, and a good physician never just treats the symptom. At our core, because of Adam and Eve's transgression in the Garden, we were fundamentally altered. That act made it so that we weren't just capable of sin, but we would inevitably sin. It is in our heart, our nature, our spiritual DNA. It doesn't excuse us, of course, but that is why we need God, need Jesus, need His Holy Spirit, because we are incapable. To say that the sins we commit are the problem is like saying that someone riddled with cancer's problem is the dramatic weight loss, hair falling out, blood in the stool, and lack of appetite. No. It's the faulty cells inside the body that are replicating the DNA incorrectly. If it was just our actions then we wouldn't need to be conformed to the image/mind of Jesus. We'd just need to be conformed to His actions, and the Pharisees, as much crap as we tend to talk about them, were already doing that. Their externals were white, the internals full of rotting flesh and dead men's bones.
That is where I find myself struggling most of the time. It isn't my externals that need altering, although there are things that are beneficial to do and not do. The issue is now and forever my internals...and that, without Jesus, is impossible to alter. I say I struggle, but really it has lately been more surrender. "I believe; Help my unbelief" resounds through my soul at the same frequent desperation as Brother Lawrence's "If You do not change me, how can I do otherwise?".
It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it. It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it.
I was watching my kids the other day. My daughter has been having a rough time of it lately. She's at some sort of snotty "tween" stage that just grates on my nerves. It's too early for her to be acting like I'm as much of an idiot as she thinks I am. If any other adult tells her something it is like some enlightened revelation, but if I tell her she scoffs and does it her own way. She isn't showing much respect for me or her mother and I refuse to let her treat us like that.
The thing that keeps grinding my gears is how ungrateful she is. I mean, honestly, never mind that we gave her life, but there is the food, lodging, clothing, tv, computer, education, vacations, etc. We give her so much and she snots me off? Treats me like I'm an idiot when I show her how to do something? Tell her how best to go about her life? I mean, I'm only 38 and she's 9. How much more life experience do I have? Psht...
And that's when I heard some sort of deep, bass level, spiritual bell ding in my soul. Jesus is so faithful at ringing that thing. My perspective shifted. I heard Him clear His throat and I saw my own inconsistency, my own lack of gratitude, my own insistence that God is an idiot (though I never phrase it that way when I'm about to do the thing), my own snottiness.
I felt guilty. I felt condemnation. I felt gutted by my own behavior.
Normally I would have wallowed in all of that, slipped into a spiritual depression (it's comfy there...), and been all "Woe is me", for a few days. I stepped a toe in there and then felt something different than my usual penitent slump. It was so weird. I felt loved. It was like He came up behind me, turned my face away from my actions and just hugged me, loved on me for a while. I didn't have to feel horrible. And the reason why is hard to explain, but I'll try through the medium of my parent child relationship.
My daughter we always be ungrateful on some level, because she can't know all that we have done for her. She can't know how Papa has struggled to teach her, how much Papa has prayed, and cried, and changed himself to be better for her. She can't know how much time and Papa has spent just doing the laundry, dishes, bathroom scrubbing, floor scrubbing, cooking, etc all for her. There is no way for her to comprehend how much her Mama works and struggles to provide good things for her. Even when she has her own children and does the same for them she will only have an inkling of an idea because we'll be 20 years ahead.
We are ungrateful and always be ungrateful on some level because of the magnitude of what Jesus has done for us, for what the Father has done for us, and what the Holy Spirit has done for us. He has spent many thousands of years from the foundation of the Earth and untold years before the foundation of the Earth doing for us. When I think of that I get the same feeling I imagine I would have scuba diving and a blue whale swam up next to me. Fear. Not a fear for my life, but that natural fear and respect for something so massive we barely register on it's scale. It is just so huge. We can't comprehend it now and I doubt we'll be able to comprehend it on the other side, not fully.
He deserves so much more gratitude, so much more praise, so much more of my life because of what He has done. And every time I meditate on that I feel something like Him replying with a smile, "I know. Hey, let's go for a walk."
From the Garden, to Enoch, to us...His desire hasn't much changed, has it?
Pax,
W
Maybe you recognize yourself in Peter's bull in a china closet sort of brash loyalty and good intentions. Perhaps it is in Thomas' doubt. For some, and I feel echoes of this in my soul as well, it is in the father's desperate cry for his child to be healed where he declares, "I believe!" and then follows it up with equally desperate honest with, "Help my unbelief". I wish that I saw myself in Lazarus' sister Mary who happily sits at the master's feet.
Unfortunately I most clearly find myself in the parable of the ungrateful servant. I reference it regularly in both real life and blog posts. Man owes the king say $500,000. He begs and pleads for forgiveness. King wipes the debt clean. Man sees a fellow servant who owes him $10 and he drags him to court to get him thrown into prison. King takes the first man, condemns him for not being grateful and showing the same kind of forgiveness the king showed him to someone who owed way less, weeping, gnashing of teeth, etc ensues. As a result, in my personal Lent reflections I've been focused on gratitude.
I'm not one of those people who was saved from a life of prostitution, drugs, etc. I am an average joe who grew up in the church, fell away for a bit but nothing major, and came back. I'm kind of a super minor prodigal son. So many people are impressed by those testimonies of being saved from massive darkness, they praise God and rejoice that someone was once saved from so much. I remember many times, hearing those testimonies and actually feeling somehow inadequate. Of course, that comes from a basic misunderstanding of the situation. If you asked those individuals with the Super Testimonies (tm) they'd be the first to tell you that they wish they had my testimony rather than walk through a personal hell.
I've mentioned it before, but the most massive revelation of the past year in my spiritual walk has been from Dr. Charles Stanley, who once said that God didn't send Jesus to save us from what we've done, the sins we've committed. God sent Jesus to save us from what we are.
We'd like to believe that we need Jesus because we at one or many points in time committed this sin, that sin, and violated the laws of God. Those sins are just the symptom, and a good physician never just treats the symptom. At our core, because of Adam and Eve's transgression in the Garden, we were fundamentally altered. That act made it so that we weren't just capable of sin, but we would inevitably sin. It is in our heart, our nature, our spiritual DNA. It doesn't excuse us, of course, but that is why we need God, need Jesus, need His Holy Spirit, because we are incapable. To say that the sins we commit are the problem is like saying that someone riddled with cancer's problem is the dramatic weight loss, hair falling out, blood in the stool, and lack of appetite. No. It's the faulty cells inside the body that are replicating the DNA incorrectly. If it was just our actions then we wouldn't need to be conformed to the image/mind of Jesus. We'd just need to be conformed to His actions, and the Pharisees, as much crap as we tend to talk about them, were already doing that. Their externals were white, the internals full of rotting flesh and dead men's bones.
That is where I find myself struggling most of the time. It isn't my externals that need altering, although there are things that are beneficial to do and not do. The issue is now and forever my internals...and that, without Jesus, is impossible to alter. I say I struggle, but really it has lately been more surrender. "I believe; Help my unbelief" resounds through my soul at the same frequent desperation as Brother Lawrence's "If You do not change me, how can I do otherwise?".
It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it. It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it.
I was watching my kids the other day. My daughter has been having a rough time of it lately. She's at some sort of snotty "tween" stage that just grates on my nerves. It's too early for her to be acting like I'm as much of an idiot as she thinks I am. If any other adult tells her something it is like some enlightened revelation, but if I tell her she scoffs and does it her own way. She isn't showing much respect for me or her mother and I refuse to let her treat us like that.
The thing that keeps grinding my gears is how ungrateful she is. I mean, honestly, never mind that we gave her life, but there is the food, lodging, clothing, tv, computer, education, vacations, etc. We give her so much and she snots me off? Treats me like I'm an idiot when I show her how to do something? Tell her how best to go about her life? I mean, I'm only 38 and she's 9. How much more life experience do I have? Psht...
And that's when I heard some sort of deep, bass level, spiritual bell ding in my soul. Jesus is so faithful at ringing that thing. My perspective shifted. I heard Him clear His throat and I saw my own inconsistency, my own lack of gratitude, my own insistence that God is an idiot (though I never phrase it that way when I'm about to do the thing), my own snottiness.
I felt guilty. I felt condemnation. I felt gutted by my own behavior.
Normally I would have wallowed in all of that, slipped into a spiritual depression (it's comfy there...), and been all "Woe is me", for a few days. I stepped a toe in there and then felt something different than my usual penitent slump. It was so weird. I felt loved. It was like He came up behind me, turned my face away from my actions and just hugged me, loved on me for a while. I didn't have to feel horrible. And the reason why is hard to explain, but I'll try through the medium of my parent child relationship.
My daughter we always be ungrateful on some level, because she can't know all that we have done for her. She can't know how Papa has struggled to teach her, how much Papa has prayed, and cried, and changed himself to be better for her. She can't know how much time and Papa has spent just doing the laundry, dishes, bathroom scrubbing, floor scrubbing, cooking, etc all for her. There is no way for her to comprehend how much her Mama works and struggles to provide good things for her. Even when she has her own children and does the same for them she will only have an inkling of an idea because we'll be 20 years ahead.
We are ungrateful and always be ungrateful on some level because of the magnitude of what Jesus has done for us, for what the Father has done for us, and what the Holy Spirit has done for us. He has spent many thousands of years from the foundation of the Earth and untold years before the foundation of the Earth doing for us. When I think of that I get the same feeling I imagine I would have scuba diving and a blue whale swam up next to me. Fear. Not a fear for my life, but that natural fear and respect for something so massive we barely register on it's scale. It is just so huge. We can't comprehend it now and I doubt we'll be able to comprehend it on the other side, not fully.
He deserves so much more gratitude, so much more praise, so much more of my life because of what He has done. And every time I meditate on that I feel something like Him replying with a smile, "I know. Hey, let's go for a walk."
From the Garden, to Enoch, to us...His desire hasn't much changed, has it?
Pax,
W
Sunday, March 20, 2016
On Lent: Palm Sunday
It has been an interesting past few days here, going though Lent. In many ways I feel like this is the week I've been waiting for, and not because Resurrection Sunday comes and I'll be able to have sugar. On the contrary, in these final few days the personal spiritual revelations have started coming that I expected. There is a certain maturity that comes in giving up something you hold dear, something that controls you or at least moves you. One or two weeks without that thing is a fad or a lark. The third week tests your resolve. The fourth week tests your reasons, and if you get beyond that there really is quite something to be learned about yourself.
I'm starting to see the Sunday School haze fall away from my eyes more rapidly. Like many I grew up attending Sunday School in the morning and then Children's Church after worship service. Now, I respect the people who do such things and make those programs available. I don't mean to criticize them, but things get lost in the translation. Whether it was my wholly owned ignorance that is being exposed to the light of day or their desire to make good "behavioral lessons" out of common Bible tales I'm not certain.
For instance, it just occurred to me today that Luke, the doctor and gospel writer, wasn't one of the 12 Disciples. For that matter fellow gospel writer Mark wasn't either. Luke was likely Greek, never met the Lord in person and began as a pupil of Paul. Odds are he was a gentile. Mark, it is believed, was one of the outer disciples and tradition holds that he was one who departed when Jesus declared that in order to follow Him one had to drink of his blood and eat of his flesh. Superficial, some of the most learned among my readership might suppose, but it alters how one sees the things in front of him. The words and impact of their gospels are still the same, there's just a little something different in the perception.
This last week I was reading in Luke where Jesus tells about the wise man who built his house upon the rock an the foolish man who built his house upon the sand (Luke 6:48). And the rains came down, and the floods came up, (you may be singing along now...) and the foolish man's house went SPLAT! When we were little we knew that song was about Christians and Non-Christians. Oh, look at those foolish non-Christians building there lives on hedonism, humanism, evolution. It's only on the rock of Jesus and his principals, doing things his way, that we can expect to live stable, secure lives.
I grew up, went to college, started a family and for a long time it was very rare that I ever felt stable and secure. Heck, I didn't even know anyone who said they felt stable and secure. So, the old wise man foolish man parable must be wrong, right? I'm a Christian, this shouldn't be how I feel, right? I said the prayer, I did the getting dunked in water thing. So how can I feel this way?
There are whole sections in Christian book stores about how to feel good about yourself, how you're a winner and an overcomer, how you should just change your perception and you'll have self esteem just because you did the prayer and the water dunky thingy. I've always had a natural aversion to those sort of books because they feel...sickeningly sweet, like drinking soda syrup straight. (What? Oh, like I'm the only one who has ever...OK...maybe I am...snorted pixie sticks? Anyone?) I can't take the perma-grins of the authors on the cover, their wide mouthed, way too reassuring smiles highlighted with unnaturally white teeth. (If you hear laughter as you read that part it's probably my sister. She knows exactly who I'm talking about there). The whole thing of "think positive, that's all you need" has always seemed counter-intuitive to the gospel...and now I know why...well...OK...I have a better understanding.
The wise man and foolish man of Luke's 6th chapter has nothing to do with non-believers, but rather everything to do with believers. Look at verse 46 : "Why do you call Me, 'Lord, Lord," and do not do what I say?..." and then He launches in to the parable. It is those who call Him, "Lord, Lord,", those who proclaim Him as their teacher or, more appropriately, Master (according to the Greek) and yet don't do what He says to do. That would be like me learning under chef's in culinary school, telling everyone how proud I am to be learning under them, attending daily classes, then decide I know better than them how to make a souffle, and just start guessing at what goes in it. What's going to happen? It might be barely edible but it's not a souffle. Why call him Lord, Lord if you aren't going to do things as he says to do them? Why waste the time if you aren't going to follow him and make up your own life recipe?
Now, I can't and won't judge you, but I'm more than happy to judge myself.
Until about a year ago I was doing the same thing. Well, that's not completely accurate. It is probably best to say that I have spent the past six years going through a process that has gradually brought me more in line with Jesus as my true Master that became very obvious within the past year or so.
In the past year I've gone on a self induced/guided journey through the New Testament chapter by chapter wondering what the "commandments" of the New Testament are. I know the word "commandments" freaks us people of God's Grace out a bit, but they are actually there. "Do this. Don't do this," can be found in every book of the New Testament and yet we ignore them. Let's just take this classic, "Let there be no divisions among you," from twice in 1 Corinthians. In our modern times many people find identity in their divisions with other denominations. "But, come on, that's Paul. That's his opinion." Jesus' words are even harder, "Be anxious for nothing,". That's it. Don't do it. What is the antidote? Prayer. Making your requests known to God.
So, long story short, I started to do the things Jesus and the Apostles said to do. Then, and only then, was when I started to feel peace and stability. When I reject divisions among the Body of Christ then it follows that chaos within my life at church will be minimized. When I squash pride and foolish talk (yes, the last one is an eternal work in progress) then my relationships are protected and enhanced. When I refuse to be anxious about something and instead give it to the Lord and leave it there, naturally I will have peace. When I choose to study His word and be in regular contact through prayer then, surprise, I feel not only stability but His presence.
This morning I got all dressed up to attend my church's Palm Sunday service. It was a little bittersweet in a few ways. I wore one of my Hawaiian style button up shirts to the service because that's about as dressy as I get. The church doesn't quite feel like home yet. I was reminded of this because I know if I was at my home church more than one, at the VERY least the pastor, would have commented on how appropriate my shirt was because..ya know...Palm Sunday, palm trees on the shirt.
For the entire season of Lent the question that the Reverend has been asking as our theme is: "What does it mean to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ?" I find that I'm not alone in my preference of over-intellectualizing that question. When it comes down to it, it is not calling Him "Lord, Lord". It is all to do with doing the things He tells us to do...even if it means loving your enemies...which...I'm glad I get along with a lot of people because that one's rough.
Pax,
W
I'm starting to see the Sunday School haze fall away from my eyes more rapidly. Like many I grew up attending Sunday School in the morning and then Children's Church after worship service. Now, I respect the people who do such things and make those programs available. I don't mean to criticize them, but things get lost in the translation. Whether it was my wholly owned ignorance that is being exposed to the light of day or their desire to make good "behavioral lessons" out of common Bible tales I'm not certain.
For instance, it just occurred to me today that Luke, the doctor and gospel writer, wasn't one of the 12 Disciples. For that matter fellow gospel writer Mark wasn't either. Luke was likely Greek, never met the Lord in person and began as a pupil of Paul. Odds are he was a gentile. Mark, it is believed, was one of the outer disciples and tradition holds that he was one who departed when Jesus declared that in order to follow Him one had to drink of his blood and eat of his flesh. Superficial, some of the most learned among my readership might suppose, but it alters how one sees the things in front of him. The words and impact of their gospels are still the same, there's just a little something different in the perception.
This last week I was reading in Luke where Jesus tells about the wise man who built his house upon the rock an the foolish man who built his house upon the sand (Luke 6:48). And the rains came down, and the floods came up, (you may be singing along now...) and the foolish man's house went SPLAT! When we were little we knew that song was about Christians and Non-Christians. Oh, look at those foolish non-Christians building there lives on hedonism, humanism, evolution. It's only on the rock of Jesus and his principals, doing things his way, that we can expect to live stable, secure lives.
I grew up, went to college, started a family and for a long time it was very rare that I ever felt stable and secure. Heck, I didn't even know anyone who said they felt stable and secure. So, the old wise man foolish man parable must be wrong, right? I'm a Christian, this shouldn't be how I feel, right? I said the prayer, I did the getting dunked in water thing. So how can I feel this way?
There are whole sections in Christian book stores about how to feel good about yourself, how you're a winner and an overcomer, how you should just change your perception and you'll have self esteem just because you did the prayer and the water dunky thingy. I've always had a natural aversion to those sort of books because they feel...sickeningly sweet, like drinking soda syrup straight. (What? Oh, like I'm the only one who has ever...OK...maybe I am...snorted pixie sticks? Anyone?) I can't take the perma-grins of the authors on the cover, their wide mouthed, way too reassuring smiles highlighted with unnaturally white teeth. (If you hear laughter as you read that part it's probably my sister. She knows exactly who I'm talking about there). The whole thing of "think positive, that's all you need" has always seemed counter-intuitive to the gospel...and now I know why...well...OK...I have a better understanding.
The wise man and foolish man of Luke's 6th chapter has nothing to do with non-believers, but rather everything to do with believers. Look at verse 46 : "Why do you call Me, 'Lord, Lord," and do not do what I say?..." and then He launches in to the parable. It is those who call Him, "Lord, Lord,", those who proclaim Him as their teacher or, more appropriately, Master (according to the Greek) and yet don't do what He says to do. That would be like me learning under chef's in culinary school, telling everyone how proud I am to be learning under them, attending daily classes, then decide I know better than them how to make a souffle, and just start guessing at what goes in it. What's going to happen? It might be barely edible but it's not a souffle. Why call him Lord, Lord if you aren't going to do things as he says to do them? Why waste the time if you aren't going to follow him and make up your own life recipe?
Now, I can't and won't judge you, but I'm more than happy to judge myself.
Until about a year ago I was doing the same thing. Well, that's not completely accurate. It is probably best to say that I have spent the past six years going through a process that has gradually brought me more in line with Jesus as my true Master that became very obvious within the past year or so.
In the past year I've gone on a self induced/guided journey through the New Testament chapter by chapter wondering what the "commandments" of the New Testament are. I know the word "commandments" freaks us people of God's Grace out a bit, but they are actually there. "Do this. Don't do this," can be found in every book of the New Testament and yet we ignore them. Let's just take this classic, "Let there be no divisions among you," from twice in 1 Corinthians. In our modern times many people find identity in their divisions with other denominations. "But, come on, that's Paul. That's his opinion." Jesus' words are even harder, "Be anxious for nothing,". That's it. Don't do it. What is the antidote? Prayer. Making your requests known to God.
So, long story short, I started to do the things Jesus and the Apostles said to do. Then, and only then, was when I started to feel peace and stability. When I reject divisions among the Body of Christ then it follows that chaos within my life at church will be minimized. When I squash pride and foolish talk (yes, the last one is an eternal work in progress) then my relationships are protected and enhanced. When I refuse to be anxious about something and instead give it to the Lord and leave it there, naturally I will have peace. When I choose to study His word and be in regular contact through prayer then, surprise, I feel not only stability but His presence.
This morning I got all dressed up to attend my church's Palm Sunday service. It was a little bittersweet in a few ways. I wore one of my Hawaiian style button up shirts to the service because that's about as dressy as I get. The church doesn't quite feel like home yet. I was reminded of this because I know if I was at my home church more than one, at the VERY least the pastor, would have commented on how appropriate my shirt was because..ya know...Palm Sunday, palm trees on the shirt.
For the entire season of Lent the question that the Reverend has been asking as our theme is: "What does it mean to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ?" I find that I'm not alone in my preference of over-intellectualizing that question. When it comes down to it, it is not calling Him "Lord, Lord". It is all to do with doing the things He tells us to do...even if it means loving your enemies...which...I'm glad I get along with a lot of people because that one's rough.
Pax,
W
Saturday, February 27, 2016
On Lent: An Update
The sugar addiction fog has cleared a bit, praise Jesus. Literally. I have.
It is amazing how we cling to things. I have marveled at my own inability to let go. When Paul talks about beating his flesh into submission in 1 Corinthians 9, he ain't joking. It is insanely difficult to just give up sugar let alone the pet sins in our lives.
I find that Lent can be a master class in letting these things go. You get to the end of yourself and have to rely on God because there is no more of yourself to rely on. If it was up to me I'd have that maple bar. I'd dig deep into that creme brulee or indulge in my greatest temptation...Pepsi.
I had a really big moment in my Lenten journey. It might sound like I am making an excuse or being a bit of a hypocrite, and I considered that. But something changed in me. I was at my favorite coffee shop (seriously, the best latte I've ever had and it was without a flavored syrup) and the owner recognized me from a Google review I put online. Without a word he came over and put a personal sized (not full slice) blackberry cheesecake in front of me. I said, "Wow" and thanked him. It sat there for a few minutes while I kept writing my new novel. I looked from my laptop screen to the cheesecake and I realized that there was a complete absence of compulsion. My mouth didn't salivate. I didn't feel any longing or like if I pushed it away, said no thank you or something, that I would have missed out. It was just a thing. Just a piece of food. And if you've seen me, I'm 291 pounds (down from 298 on Ash Wednesday, woohoo). I'm a man who has eaten his fair share of cheese cake, cheese, and cake. Not feeling anything was kind of a big deal.
The man, I knew from overhearing a conversation from last time, is an artisan. He makes 98% of the menu on site. "Everything but the coffee beans, and we don't churn the butter," he said with a laugh. I'm not an artisan, but I am a professionally trained cook and when I present somebody with something I've worked on, and am proud of and they refuse it hurts. A lot. He takes great pride in his work, and I realized (again, as much of an excuse as it sounds like) that it was about doing something to not offend. Paul, of course, talks about this in being a Jew to the Jewish, Greek to the Greek, etc. Was it a sin to partake during Lent? If I was Catholic enough I might say that, but I'm not. Grace is extreme and I wasn't violating the actual purpose of Lent in my heart. Had it been earlier when I was really struggling I might have said something, but no. Had I eaten the cheesecake and then felt horrible about it then maybe I would have written a different post. And this is where the analogy of our little addictions being the same as sins breaks down. It's instructive, illustrative in fact, but not equal to. It was enough that during the first two weeks of Lent the Lord broke a major stronghold and after ingesting the artisan, hand crafted, blackberry cheesecake the craving was still not there. At least not in the sanity clawing, soul shredding intensity it was before.
On the interesting but not necessarily spiritually relevant side, I have spent years suffering from acid reflux type symptoms. For ages it did not matter if I ate acidic stuff or not, I would be popping the antacids. At first it was kind of a "Huh...I wonder if sugar is responsible..." and then I ate the cheesecake. The evening and all the next morning I had such acid attacks. I am pretty certain I will not going back to sugar anymore after Lent is finished. It will mean no diabetes, which I'm sure has been a concern of a few family and close friends.
Pax,
W
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