Friday, December 28, 2007

Forward thinking

I'm not generally a fan of forwarded e-mails. They often hold the same sentimental platitudes and flimsy theology of a church marquis. But this one, while no weighty dissertation, was still a refreshing reminder of the immutability of God (in the spirit of Psalm 18:1-2) and His activity in an ever-changing global landscape. After a year of tremendous changes (albeit beauty-filled ones), one can be left feeling a little road-weary nonetheless. This forward was a breath of cool air on a warm face.


TOP TEN PREDICTIONS FOR 2008

1. The Bible will still have all the answers.

2. Prayer will still work.

3. The Holy Spirit will still move.

4. God will still inhabit the praises of His people.

5. There will still be God-anointed preaching.

6. There will still be singing of praise to God.

7. God will still pour out blessings upon His people.

8. There will still be room at the Cross

9. Jesus will still love you.

10. Jesus will still save the lost.



I love you, O LORD, my strength.
The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer,
my God, my rock in whom I take refuge,
my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
~Psalm 18:1-2

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Blocked Out, Part 2

I've had continued reflections on the way Tetris is a metaphor for "real life."

There is something oddly satisfying in watching the blocks fit into places. When you get the blocks you need to complete the line, you experience a sensation of success; of overcoming the challenges. You are victorious over the challenge presented to you. You are in control.

When you get blocks that don't fit neatly anywhere, you experience a sense of frustration. That ill-fitting shape is an obstacle to order; it is getting in the way of the plan. The screen becomes untidy as small gaps appear in the middle of the work, unaccessible until you clear the clutter above it. Until then, they keep vigil; visible reminders that we've made a mistake and are imperfect or the game has thrown us something that doesn't make sense, and juts out annoyingly, hindering our plan.

I know I want my life to be simple. And when all the blocks fit into the right place, I experience a sense of accomplishment that says "I have control of my life." Control matched with simplicity gives the illusion of power and safety. If I am in control, nothing can surprise me and I can protect myself from getting hurt.

But nothing prevents the ill-matching issues from coming. And eventually, whether I like it or not, I have to accept I have no control over what comes crashing down. Things don't fit in an orderly fashion and I have to learn to negotiate it; those blocks that jut annoyingly into life, in the walk way and sure to be tripped.

But whatever blocks come (the one's that fit neatly into our well-constructed lives or the ones that simply get in the way and nag) we are responsible with what we do with them. Control over life is a myth. Control over how we deal with it, however, has always been in our grasp, despite the temptation to "play the victim" (this is to distinguish from those who are true victims of violence or circumstance), and hand over the controls to someone or some thing else. Or even to a false ideal. Then there comes the temptation to set the game down, refusing the work to fit them at all, and excuse ourselves from confronting the challenge and the hurt doing so can bring. Of course, then life eventually becomes a wreck as the pieces stack themselves haphazardly, giving the illusion that we are more victim of cruel life than ever and granting permission to shut down and die.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Blocked Out

I made a big mistake. Recently, I downloaded the highly addictive game, "Tetris", onto my cellphone. Seeing as I have never shown compulsive behavior with any other video game, I figured I would write about it now.

In my leg-numbing sessions of wasted time playing it, I've come to realize that life is very much like Tetris.

It is a game that you can never win. You begin with the shapes descending laughably slow, slotting the chunks neatly into form-fitted spaces. You feel a subtle sense of mastery in this small success. The pace picks up. You can still handle all the pieces and you feel good about how well you're doing but you develop a knot of tension between your shoulders. Now the blocks are sliding down like raindrops on a window and the intensity increases. You make a mistake here and there, causing some empty pockets that keep you from keeping up, but you manage to stay afloat despite the gnawing sense of inevitability. Now they're streaking down like comets and suddenly things are piling up haphazardly. The pieces shoot down faster still as you hopelessly watch the blocks fill up the screen until you fall apart altogether. The game wins again. As it always does.

And yet this "game" remains one of the most addictive and timeless diversions ever (and believe me, for a video game to have any notoriety that lasts more than several months, much less two decades, is an accomplishment). Despite inevitable defeat, you hit start and go again. And again. And again. Like the fly slinging his body into the screen, desperate for freedom.

With time as one of our most precious gifts to steward, why spend it practicing futility? When wanting a diversion from the pressure of "real life" (what an oxymoron: what most people call "real life" is neither real nor life), why do we hand over the 20-40 minutes to something that is not real? You might pat yourself on the back for getting farther. But then you drag your mind out of the game, lift up your eyes and look around the room at a world that cares nothing for the numbers on the screen. And it is definitely not changed or made beautiful, nor does it know God more because you managed to push certain buttons in a certain sequence into a certain end.

The game is the "world". We pick it up every morning to play by the game's rules: rules that favor the house and ensures that no matter what, we do not win, nor, in the end, do we matter. And as we lower our attention into the well to dangle in darkness, we are unable to notice the real world shining above us, seemingly far away: the reality of God and His Kingdom that does not keep score by the rules of the game or place value on how high our scores may seem.

Friday, December 7, 2007

At the helm

The church is quiet this morning, as if I were the First Officer on a sailing ship in the middle of the night, manning the tiller while everyone else is asleep. This is accentuated by the fact that the town is also quiet due to the icy glaze on the pavement that keeps people safely on dry ground. It is something of a holy, pregnant moment, as if the building itself were waiting for something to happen. The phone will rip into the silence or the front door's distinct clack-hiss when the metal flap that keeps the wind from blowing through the crack between the double doors springs open and the weather-stripping slides over the tiled narthex.

But then the expectant waiting blankets this place again, as if the walls were bracing themselves for what is to come. Soon, the decks will be swarming with activity as sailors attend their specific duties to which they are trained. I can see each of them with my mind's eye, out of focus with the present. The words of a true smith come to mind:

There is the sudden silence of the crowd
above a motionless player on the field,
and the silence of the orchid.

The silence of the falling vase
before it strikes the floor,
the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.

The stillness of the cup and the water in it,
the silence of the moon
and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.

The silence when I hold you to my chest,
the silence of the window above us,
and the silence when you rise and turn away.

And there is the silence of this morning
which I have broken with my pen,
a silence that had piled up all night

like snow falling in the darkness of the house -
the silence before I wrote a word
and the poorer silence now.

"Silence" by Billy Collins

A thought that woke me up this morning:
Preaching: A moment of transformation, bound together by the Holy Spirit, around the study, reading and proclamation of Holy Scripture.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Draw Nigh, Emmanuel

It seems to happen more quickly every year: the holiday season returns! If we’re going to be picky, however, we cannot actually call it “Christmas” just yet.

We’re already hearing the call to “get into the Christmas spirit.” But calling it “Christmas” is something of a misnomer. The word “Christmas” gets turned into an adjective, used to describe other words or events (i.e., “Christmas cheer”, “Christmas sales event”), instead of being the focus itself. “Christmas” isn’t shopping, present-wrapping or even movie reruns on TV, however deeply woven into the holiday as they may be. They are simply the tokens that surround this particular holiday. It can be all too natural to treat Christmas music on the radio and God’s less-than-glittery entrance onto Planet Earth as if they were equal parts of the greater Christmas puzzle. But I have yet to see mention of tinsel or stockings hanging in the barn (or anywhere in the Gospel account)!

Now don’t get me wrong: I love this season! I love the decorations and seeing the candle-lit windows as I drive down the road. I love the cold weather and the promise of snow on the wind. I love visiting with family and eating savory home cooking. I love the Poinsettias and the Chrismon tree gracing the sanctuary. And believe me, I love the presents! It is not a sin that Christmas is fun!

But we expend shopping bags of energy and fray quite a few nerves on the filler that surrounds Christmas, like negotiating mall traffic or clamoring after the highly sought-after toy. But we give precious little time preparing ourselves for Christmas. We fret over menus and tidying up guestrooms but do not spend the same energy in changing the sheets for the most important Guest of all. The church calls this season “Advent” (from the Latin for “arrival” or “coming”) for a good reason: because the arresting mystery that God would come and be a human with us is worth slowing down to get ready for. The carols, rolling off our lips as fluidly (dare I say, inattentively?) as the Lord’s Prayer, deserve a new hearing:

O Come, O Come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel

“Captive Israel”: that’s us. How captive we can become to our culture’s picture of the perfect White Christmas, and often we don’t even know it. We get wrapped up in celebration but also distracted from the truest joy: that God is not far-off but Emmanuel: “God-with-us.”

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel has come to thee, O Israel!

Rejoice indeed! God is coming! Emmanuel ransoms us from the hostage crisis of sin and a culture that does not know Him. He refuses to abandon us to our own devices or leave us blissfully caged in unawareness. Advent is our season to get ready for Christ is coming!

Is this a guilt-trip against reveling in the holiday? Absolutely not! It is a call back to the source of peace on Earth: the Holy One, the Hero who rescues us from captivity. It is a challenge to not fixate on the things that surround Christmas, but to worship with joy and wonder, the One who is Christmas itself!

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Stolen Property

I made off with this powerful quote from a good friend's blog:

"The tragedy of life and of the world is not that men do not know God; the tragedy is that, knowing Him, they still insist on going their own way."


William Barclay (1907-1978)
The Revelation of John [1961] (Vol.II)


Incidentally, you should check it out: rentveil.blogspot.com

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen. ~Ephesians 3:20


God is good at "abundant." It seems whenever our Lord is present in something, abundance follows. The best laid plans of mice and ministers are nothing compared to the increase He so often provides. Granted, God is present whether we sense or experience abundance or not. For certainly there are many who call on God to come near and deal with a situation abundantly (either in mercy or justice). And many-a dark night has left people sensing anything but abundant emptiness. Or an over-abundance of questions.

But that does not diminish the joyful moments where God's gracing is so evident. Just like our wedding reception at home (our wedding was so far away from our church family, we wanted to have an alternative so as to share the celebration close to home). It was wonder-filled to see my brother talking to my friend's step-father, or discovering how church friends of mine were childhood friends with a close friend of hers and the joy of their rediscovery; a joy piled onto the celebration of the occasion. Or our college friends, having driven 4-8 hours, reuniting with other friends for the first time. Or our church family striking up conversations with our biological families. Such a collision of the spheres of our lives sent a pulse of curious wonder, with waves of laughter and friendly conversation lapping against the walls.

In other words, never had I glimpsed heaven so closely as I did that day. Indeed, God provided more than our imaginations could have ever captured.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

You would have wept for joy too...



"Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away;
for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

~ Song of Songs 2:10-13


New Creations

The sting of cold metal and I have never been the same since.

"Therefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come." 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NASB)

I appreciate the NASB's translation of this: a new creature. There is something primal about that which, to me, seems to reflect just how deep the change goes. I try to be wary of my sentimental tendencies but there was something tangible that took place when she slid the steel ring upon my barren yet anxious finger. And I have utter conviction that this was a moment "in Christ," there doing what the Christ does best.

While shadows of the old life flicker, there is still transformation breaking through, like the determined sapling cracking through the frosted ground. We both commented as we drove back through town for the first time, it is really a different town altogether now, even if the buildings and the faces all look the same. It is, indeed, something new. Newer than I could have dreamed.

Another line. I wonder what happened to this poor place.

Waves massaged the aching shore.
Clouds bruised the skies.
Rain wrinkled the surface of the water
while the city burned.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Tending the Garden

The deeply insightful novel by Jamie Langston Turner entitled "A Garden to Keep" is the journalings of a woman who discovered that her husband has been unfaithful. The entire book is her working through the process of anger, grief and the discovery about who she really is. It has a very "stream-of-consciousness" feel but the threads weave together beautifully to create the tapestry of her journey.

The main character is deeply in love with poetry and often the side-trails of her journey took her into writing poems of her own. She would have a line of poetry capture her attention and she would write it down. Then she would begin writing a poem backwards, adding a line that would precede the original one and then add another line before that, careful chiseling the words and phrases until she had a completed picture. A handful of entries back, I wrote a line that captured my imagination and yesterday, I thought of a line to work into it. I also reworked the original to get away from the passive voice. As a friend from college once said, "Alliterated for your listening pleasure."

Clouds bruised the skies and
rain wrinkled the surface of the water
while the city burned.

Again, I have no idea why this is so grim! It is like the way I love symphonic works in minor keys. Maybe more will come to me on this poetic journey too.

At my bachelor party over a week ago, we sat around the campfire, each of the men offering a nugget of wisdom on married life. My uncle offered the analogy that a marriage is like a garden, always in need of tending, weeding, pruning, watering, etc. I've always felt the tug to start a literal garden. It is a metaphor that applies so deeply to ministry as well (as many astute scholars and Jesus have pointed out). And considering both marriage and ministry are matters deeply important to God, maybe I should start gardening just to learn more about both and the God who institutes them.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Small bites

Another line for another unwritten book:

As the door opened, the chill autumn-wind crashed into him, causing the skin on his face to crawl for warmth.


And I realized last night that when I experience her respect, I am invincible.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Cleaning House

"I sorta like how all of our stuff is becoming one..." she said as she combined the dregs of her bottle of Kikkoman's soy sauce with my own. Merging all of our stuff is tedious work, deciding which spatula stays and which one goes to charity. Especially when condensing two kitchens worth of rarely-used knick-knacks and single-purpose utensils into one kitchen with little cabinet space. But it is a good work.

Our pastor said that one of the convictions of Christian marriage was a matter of discovering a "new center of loyalty." That notion is intrinsically 'Gospel' as really the whole of the Christ-life is a de-centering from self and a reordering on the Creator. That makes sense to me since marriage is designed to be testimony before it is matrimony (and not the other way around).

It seems the word, 'mystery', can have the connotation both of a sense of bewilderment and a state of wonder. And it seems that the specific version of mystery that is marriage hugs both. And the work of combining the soy sauce and vinegar bottles demonstrates that.

He said it is very much like moving into a house: you carry the boxes of your life into the space that you live. Then you work together to decide which pictures/treasures/furniture becomes part of every day life and what goes into storage. But most importantly, the arranging doesn't end once you've 'settled in.' Rather you periodically bring down another box from the attic, open it up and together decide what becomes part of the home, what goes back into storage for a later time or what bits of our baggage that needs throwing out altogether.

Moving into a house is cluttering work. First you have boxes piled in major walking areas. Then as that box gets unpacked, contents spill into every last available space. It actually gets messier before things find their place in the order of daily house-life.

Letting go is also a Gospel work.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Campaigning for Justice

Does no one else think there is something profoundly wrong that presidential candidates are already raising $20+ million for an election over a year away? We already know what they believe. So our "most capable" pundits are the ones who can swindle the most money? We are so willing to dump money into people who parrot our ideals and yet we pinch greedily the $20 that would feed a child for a month. What difference does money given to potential politicians do when the budget of just one such candidate could give clean water to an entire nation?

Book Opening

Not that I'm writing one. I just thought it would be a "grab your attention" sort of beginning (even though it is rather dark):

The water was wrinkled with rain while the city burned.

Some other lines that have been sloshing around in my brain:

I live in my head
but it's more like house arrest.
Won't You evict me?

Hmm... it became a haiku...

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

E-mail Articulation

Just e-mailed this to the officiating minister of our wedding, who was checking in. There, I found some words I needed to say.

We do have to remind ourselves often of what the running around is for so as not to be overcome by the details. But really, it is the issue of perspective, expectations and trust that continues to threaten our joy most. With moving boxes and setting up house, I’ve been reminded that we are much like college roommates, still discovering the boundaries and style of our shared and individual living space. And we bump corners there more often than we agree. For all the joy of such a union, there is still the inherent (not necessarily negative) culture shock of adjusting to new space (both literal and figurative). And when both of us come into it having spent a lot of emotional energy chiseling exactly what it is suppose to look and feel like, those bumps can start feeling bigger than they really are. Even when I know my expectations are out of whack, my heart (where I dwell most comfortably) cannot be bullied into awareness; it still wants to feel slighted and irritated. The prayers have been for perspective: to realize that which shelf we put the plates and cups really doesn’t matter at all. The reminder of healthier perspective comes when we’re with someone else and our attention is diverted from self-circumspection and other-suspicion. It’s like we’re sacramentally transformed into union when we stop thinking about it. Why can’t we just choose to not take it so seriously?? :)

Sayings Worth Remembering

"An educated people are
... easy to lead
... difficult to enslave...
... and a joy to govern." ~ origin unknown


"A man may carry the whole scheme of Christian truth in his mind from boyhood to old age without the slightest effect upon his character and aims. It has had less influence than the multiplication table." ~ J. G. Holland (1819-1881)


"We spend our lives, not enjoying the things we've bought, but paying for them."
~ a colleague in ministry