The Lost Art of Conversing

I watched the crows feet around his eyes deepen as his gaze shifted from the ground beneath his wooden bench to the approaching recognizable man walking towards him.  With a nod and friendly greeting he beckoned the man to join him. From where I sat a bench over, I listened to their introductions. Clearly they were acquaintances; Friends really, who seemed to share a history.  I continued to listen as the two men talked about the weather and then it moved to closer issues. The government shut down, politics, the economy, and religion.  The more pointed the conversations became I realized the change in tone of the voices.  No longer could the friendly amicable tones of understanding be heard but they were replaced by defensive, self-justifying, and prideful statements.

As I sat beneath the tree as the leaves began to fall softly, I could not help but think that this instant change in conversation happens with all of us.  It brought back memories of talks I’ve had with my own family or friends, even strangers that ended with less grace than my own eavesdropping uncovered. I have a pride issue. I am sure I am not the only one but I know it exists in me, in the darkest corners of my heart. I so badly enjoy being right. I think we all do, it is part of our human nature to feel accomplished when we are right on issues and sometimes its easy to get immediate gratification from proving others wrong. When you think about it, it seems crazy that we can allow a conversation with someone we know or love to shift from encouragement to personal attack.  Why do we feel we are the ones with supreme knowledge and anyone who sees things differently must be wrong and therefore, should be corrected?

I once heard a man talk about his weekly “round tables” with other religion professors.  He talked about a group of men who would gather around a table and lay it all out there. Their questions, their concerns, the things that baffled them and the things that they saw with complete clarity.  In that room, there were no personal attacks, arguments, or egos. They conversed with thought-through answers sprinkled with grace. They held each other in the utmost respect and esteem.  Each man was recognized as a human being made in the image of God, each man just as capable of imparting knowledge and wisdom as the next.  Most importantly, they valued learning from one another.  They could disagree but did so with respect and an eager desire to know the other person more fully instead of countering them. 

If you take only a few minutes and look at twitter, facebook threads, or blogs in our culture today, this round table concept is nearly nonexistent.  In fact, it seems crazy and only possible through a Utopian society.  We each battle entitlement.  We have the freedom to post, tweet, instagram, or blog about our opinions.  These are not bad things. In fact we should be grateful for this freedom so many men and women before us gave their lives for.  Yet with anything, we should use this freedom responsibly and not selfishly. Perhaps there is something about social media that allows us to almost dehumanize people.  We see only a profile and name so it is easier to rattle off insults or tear people down but we are called to be much more relational and loving than this.  I realized this week that each person I come in contact with has a story.  Each with lines rich of messy lies, sin, and pain.  Yet just like my story, each begins with the same line “created by God” and involves a Savior who desires their heart. I’ve realized the in-between doesn’t matter as much.  Apart from our beginning, we all have different contexts, settings, worldviews, and upbringings. Instead of letting these different views be a divider, we should see them as a way to engage in thought-provoking, edifying conversations. We should stop conversing focusing on the in-betweens but focus on how this person can teach us and be thankful that love is not dependent on like-mindedness. In fact, love is seen most beautifully in paradox much like the love that propelled a sinless man to die for people who did not even deserve it or care. Today I want to live out this kind of love and my hope is that we can restore this lost art of conversing, letting our words continually paint a picture of our own grace and humility. 

Tattoos and Redeeming Love

        

    In this life, there is this constant “keeping up with the Jones’ mentality filled with consumerism, perfection, and constant striving to attain some thing greater than what we already have.  N.T. Wright In his book on Evil and the Suffering of God diagnoses the American and Developed World’s problem as Progress. We are obsessed with new technology and advancements and along the way, we have bought into this idea that increasing technological progress means moral and ethical progress.  When we come up against trials, wars, illness, or evil in this world, we are completely baffled by it.  We forget that evil present today in this world is the same evil that first reared its head in the Garden of Eden. The same sin that Adam and Eve committed by choosing to fracture their relationship with God to establish their own thrones is the same sin we each have committed.  There are so many theological questions that can be raised when talking about that day in Eden but the one that bewilders me is why God did not choose to destroy the first creation and start afresh.  Why is it that he punished them but still gave them a chance for life?  He could have easily started from scratch with a new creation that would adore and love him but instead, he chooses Redemption.  He sent Jesus, part of his Holy Trinity to take on every aspect of humanity.  This Jesus guy that was sent to save a people that constantly turned away from Him.  Ultimately he chooses to die for those people.  He had every opportunity to walk away and give up, but just as God did not give up on humanity in Eden, he did not give up on mankind and saved us on that momentous day in Golgotha.

            The beauty is that despite the suffering in this world, you and I are part of this story. Our life is made possible by the sacrifice of a man we can never repay.  A man that saw some thing worth redeeming in this creation. We have to remember that the very God who created the universe looks into the depths of our souls and sees something worth salvaging.  There is something mysterious about a God who sees more purpose and beauty in transforming us into a new creation rather than beginning again.  There’s a show about tattoos. The premise is that these artists will see clients who have tattoos they received on a dare or an incredibly drunken night and they turn the tattoo into something less shameful. These artists are not just ordinary but incredibly talented people.  It’s easy to simply draw a picture on a blank slate but it’s another thing to be given an image and creatively reconstruct it into a new thing entirely. I think that is what God chooses to do with us.  

                He uses the ugliness of our former lives and in his Holy creativity, he transforms  us into a new being entirely. 

            Just as the ink of a horrible smurf or ex lovers initials will still be on our skin so will the past sins be part of our story, but instead of seeing their hideous reminders, we can see the new creation God made in us.  This empowers up to tell our story with unashamed hope. 

Some Days It Rains

 There are days that pass saturated with encouragement from people, happy prayers to God, and a complete knowledge of his presence in our lives. These days are sweet ones in which you can hear him above the street noise and the many worldly voices. On those days, smiling seems involuntary and everything seems to point to the Lord; the sun shines brightly bathing the earth with her glow, and everything is vibrant with rich hues of green, blue, and orange. The Bible is easily defendable and encouraging and our prayers are streams of gratitude and love. Jesus is a savior who loves and wants the best life for us and sometimes it seems he is begging for us to know him while God is a smiling old man in the sky. We mark our faith by the bumper stickers on our cars or our membership to a particular church.

 And then some days it rains. Not the kind you see in movies with a light sky with echoes of a soft pitter patter on tin roofs but the torrential downpour which is seemingly endless. The kind of rain that drenches, soaks you to the bone, and leaves you with chills impossible to shake off as you enter school or your workplace. Its relentlessly pelts against your windshield making it difficult to drive and unapologetically interrupts your life. Sometimes, the lists of what we are thankful for are left blank, drowned out by the number of heartaches and disappointments. A hail Mary at a football game seems more likely than hearing from God and pulling a chair up to the open Bible on the table leaves you with more doubt and confusion than answers. These are the kind of days most people are afraid of. I was told once that questioning and doubting were products of a lack of faith and were dishonoring to God. It was as if questioning the things before me would somehow hurt that great man in the Sky and shatter everything. I was afraid to ask and my prayers were filled with halfhearted phrases of gratitude and thankfulness. But the truth is, some days are hard. There are moments of pain, sorrow, immense grief, and even depression in our lives and trying to pretend they do not exist to not make them any less real. There are some things that seem impossible to believe in the Bible but I think it was designed that way. For if we simple minded beings could wrap our minds around everything written in its pages, we would not be any different from our creator. Our complete understanding would diminish his omniscience. 

  I have learned the past year that God does not need long-winded prayers filled with pithy sayings. I doubt even the Saints prayers were wrought with flowery words- for their prayers seemed too desperate for that. Miguel de Molinos wrote a piece called The Spiritual Guide Which Disentangles the Soul. In it, he mentions there are two types of prayers. "The one tender, delightful, amicable, and full of sentiments; the other obscure, dry, desolate, tempted, and darksome". He does not make note of the latter to imply one should remain in a place of aridity in spiritual life but he uses it to call out the reality of life. He calls the second the "Life of Men" belonging to those who "fight and war against their own passions" as they are sanctified. I have also learned that Jesus is not a man to be pitied; rather he is a Warrior King. He does not simply ask us to believe him and be happy. He loves us too much to let us stop there. He calls us to make a choice. It is a decision whether to continue on our own disillusioned path or to follow him. To step out onto the water and truly trust him. For in this kind of radical abandonment, we will truly know him much deeper than we would a man we praise for our personal success and prosperity. Church was never meant to be a country club for the community's socialites. Lord knows we do not need another place to parade our beautiful clothes and deliver pleasantries. Instead, it is a body of broken people like you and me who recognize their desperate need for a savior. 

 There may be times where singing about his goodness while witnessing death and suffering may be nearly impossible. Doubts may mount higher than certainties and frustrations may overcome peace and joy. But you know what? The beauty is that our creator is not just a feeble old man in the sky who calls for pretense. He is a sovereign Lord whose power and glory cannot be diminished by our questioning. He lets us come to his table and He tells us there is room. Room for our doubts and our fears. Because He is big enough for those things. 

Sitting Simply and Simply Sitting

 One thing I do very poorly is simply sitting. I have not figured out how to just sit, read, and talk to God without thinking of the class I have to study for, the people I should be talking to, or the laundry that has been sitting in the dryer for days I should be folding. I live in a constant pace of 95 mph and to me sitting down signifies defeat.  Today, I wrestled with serving at a soup kitchen. When I say it out loud, it sounds so selfish "I can't serve people today, I'm too tired and weary". But the truth is, I have not sat before God in a long time. You know, truly sat before him. The kind of sitting that leaves your knees aching and your legs numb. Where you don't just read a bible verse but let it slightly sting your wounds with slight conviction, then wait as it heals them slowly like salt on an open cut. 

 Honestly, I have been serving from my own strength lately and that reservoir ran out about two weeks ago. I have been so afraid to come before God because I was afraid he would tell me no. No to my future dreams, no to my timeline, no to my passions, and that's scary. But I also realize just because I fail to listen or ask him doesn't mean his answer will change on the matter. Ignorance is most certainly not bliss. 

 This morning, I escaped to a corner window table of a downtown coffee shop and simply sat. I opened to John and was reminded that God cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit and prunes those that do. It is sometimes messy but I have to let him or else Ill become as wilted as the flowers in my backyard (I'm really bad at remembering to water).  As I poured over the words, all I could think about were my own sins and shortcomings. My lack of patience, wrestling with sin, choosing to be bitter instead of love, until these mounted and all I saw were my own inadequacies. When I read the verses in John I felt ashamed, unworthy, and guilty. God's pruning seemed more like chastisement than a labor of love. But as I moved beyond to the third verse I realized that was not God's intention. He isn't asking me to come before him in ashamed vulnerability but rather, complete humility. For he says 

"You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you"

He wants me to trust him and his pruning is for my good. Like the writer of Hebrews says, as believers, even in our weaknesses, he wants us to approach his throne of grace with confidence. In greek that word is parresias meaning

                               -freedom in speaking, unreservedness

                                            a. open, frank, without concealment

                                            b. without ambiguity          

    -free or fearless confidence, cheerful courage, boldness, assurance. 

How different that is from my own trembling, ashamed, and embarrassed approach.

Another lesson I learned is that the Lord says Remain in me for a reason. For "if a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit. The next sentence is the most important. don't miss it. it says "apart from me you can do nothing" I realized how true my friend Hannah was when she said that rest is a form of worship. Resting and remaining in the Lord means coming before him with parresias-an unreserved, fearless confidence- and allowing him to cutoff and get rid of the ugly sinful parts of our lives while cultivating the ones that bring Him glory. 

  Hebrews speaks about the importance of rest to believers.  It says "there remains a sabbath rest for God's people. . . Let us, therefore, make ever effort to enter that rest, so that no one will fall by following their example of disobedience"Just like an artist cannot paint a perfectly accurate portrait if he never glances up from his easel to examine the subject, we cannot reflect the glory of God if we never stop to seek His face and sit before him. And as we spend time remaining in him, he will sanctify us and reveal to us sin in our own hearts. 

Where Heaven and Earth Meet

  There is heaven and earth and then there are some places where the two seem to converge blurring the lines of reality.  One such place is a home residing at the top of a hill with a sign that reads Fairhaven. If you are not careful, you will look at it but miss seeing the glimpses of glory and beauty inside just as one can miss the forest for the trees. For some reason, God gave me a chance to see this place.  To look past the brick, sanitary smell, old carpet, and fading colors on the walls and see the divine occurrences here. For the enchantment of this home was not in its structure but in the hearts of its residents. On tuesday evening, six of us entered the room wearing our favorite dresses and hearts full of anticipation and giddiness. As we stepped foot into the grand room in Fairhaven, it seemed we had stepped back in time as streams of jazz music filled the room, staff members handed out punch and cookies, and residents were dressed in their finest. We wandered around the room greeting the men and women who were attending this senior prom. I had the privilege of talking with some incredible gentleman who talked about the olden days and shared war stories that painted scenes of air force raids, dancing as the navy ship ported for the evening, and reuniting with their loved ones. There were two men who danced every time the orchestra began to play and they were seldom seen dancing with the same girl.  Mr. Alvin twirled me around the dance floor and told me about his former days of dancing with his wife. His eyes were soft and his reminiscent tone pulled at my heart strings.  His friend also was quite the dancer and even despite his back surgery, he was spinning me and once the song ended, immediately went in search of the next available young woman to dance with.  

      After the song ended, I spotted a woman sitting wearing bright orange and a beautiful necklace. As I knelt beside her chair, she introduced herself as Ollie and from that moment on I hung to every word.  She was an artist, made pottery, and told me of her travels to Germany, Hawaii, Austria, and France.  We both shared a love for seeing the world and I told her of the map of the States a sweet man made me to mark all of our travels. Her eyes lit up and she told me she hoped I could see it all. Ollie informed me she almost did not come to Prom that night but in the last minute, she said she did not "get beautified for nothin". A few moments later, a girl with a microphone and sashes in hand got up and announced the Prom Queen and King. I looked at Mrs. Ollie and she was clapping.  I bent down and said "Mrs. Ollie did you hear?" She told me she didn't have her hearing aids in and could not hear the names but she was happy. I laughed as I looked at her innocent and genuine smile and said "Mrs. Ollie, they called you! You won Prom Queen!". You would have thought she won Miss America with the shock and wide smile that spread across her face. Two girls came and put a sash on her and gave her red roses. She looked at me and motioned for me to bend to hear her. As I did she whispered, "My son will be so proud". Tears began to form in my eyes as I stood amazed that something so simple and seemingly small brought so much joy and sense of accomplishment. As a dental student there came and talked to us, he grabbed Mrs. Ollie's hand and asked if he could be honored to dance with her. At first she protested saying she was too old but after some encouragement, we got her to step away from her walker and walk on the dance floor.  Watching her dance with this young man brought more tears.  I could picture her as a young girl about my age with great ambitions with the whole world in front of her. I envisioned her dancing with her husband on her wedding day- the man who took her to other countries and loved her faithfully. As I watched her smile as she swayed I could picture her dancing in heaven in the presence of the Lord she loved. She looked like an angel on that dance floor. As the song ended and we had to say goodbye, we hugged at least three times and I promised to come back and see her. I learned much from these wise men and women. Each with their own stories, adventures, and personalities.  I could feel the presence of God in that place and even those who were seriously sick or confined to a wheelchair had so much peace and joy that could only come from Him. 

     The director of activities- seemingly an angel in disguise- took in this beautiful scene with tears in her eyes.  She scurried around the room attempting to capture every moment through the lens of the camera.  I doubt she will ever know truly what a Godsend she is to the men and women who are grateful to share their life stories and find joy in reminiscing.  This home embodies every aspect of its name.  It is a haven for those who need companionship, encouragement, love, and assuredly it is fair. Fair. Like a sunny day in the spring with birds chirping and people laughing. At least thats what my own grandma calls those days. Fair days. 

Living in Surrender

I think I’ve spend much time trying to live a good Christian life.  You know, the kind where you sign up for 3 Bible Studies, wear those great Christian logo T-shirts, instagram pics of the morning's psalm, tweet the latest jesus calling, and drink coffee like its water.  For the majority of the past 20 years Ive spent on this earth, I learned the motions and cool songs for VBS, I donned my "I'm a princess and Daughter of a Great King" T-shirt, I advocated "Modest is Hottest" and I remained single because I was dating Jesus. These things alone are not bad but this year I realized that this is not exactly what I am called to. These are not the foundation and essence of my walk with the Lord. I think I always knew some aspect of this was skewed.  As a child, my mom forced me to put on the little red vest and attend Awanas at a church wherever we lived. I remember failing at every game during rec because some part of me has never been coordinated enough to play kickball.  At every "sword drill" I was one of the last to find the book called out- I mean what kids knows where Haggai is anyway? Week after week I would try to recite the memory verse but I somehow always messed up a word or line and never could make it past the first few pages. I would walk dejectedly out of the room with my crown which contained only one jewel I got for completing the introduction book while I stood next to my friends who had enough bling to blind someone.  I swear one girl had to buy another vest to hold all of her crowns. After a year, I begged my mom to stop making me go. There were tears, pleading, and eventually after many weeks, she packed my red vest away in a box on the closet shelf and I was free. 

Please hear my heart when I say that Awanas really was not awful and it is a great tool for teaching kids about the Bible. It wasn't the program itself but my heart and attitude in doing it.  There are many times I wish I had continued but I have realized something.  I have spent the last 5 years living my life as if I was still in Awanas instead of surrendering my life to a King.  I will not get jewels in my crown in heaven based on how many verses I memorized or how many friends I brought to church. My membership in the body of Christ is not based upon my abilities, my knowledge, or my actions to abstain from "worldly" things. Jesus certainly is not my homeboy and I was never "dating" him.  He's much grander and Holier than that.  He doesn't just want my participation in church events or my pledge to listen to only Christian music- He demands my absolute allegiance to his sovereignty.  I do not have to pretend my life is perfect or that I am without sin. His love is not depended upon me simply living a "good Christian" life. 

 No matter how much effort I put into it, I will always fall short of good because there are days when sin is rampant and I am inherently not good. So although this sounds great in theory, in reality it only leaves a wake of hypocrisy, masking, and guilt. Instead, I think I just want to live a life. One that some Gracious God called me to before my first heart beat. I’m listening to this song and the line says “tomorrow’s freedom is today’s surrender”. I think that’s the way I want to live. In surrender. Because in surrender, you recognize the sin that keeps you from joy, and you look it in the face, and hand it over to an outstretched hand of a Lord. And sometimes when its hard to tare your gaze from that sin that won’t let you go, you avert your eyes and in perfect divine timing, your eyes land on those outstretched hands. And you notice there are scars. Scars made to die for that sin. Scars made to die for you. I think as long as we try to pretend to live a good Christian life, we miss this act of surrender because we convince ourselves we have nothing to give up.  But if that were the case, then those scars are for naught. 

Because Sometimes God Says No.

“The man who had been demon possessed begged to go with him. Jesus did not let him but said “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and how He has had mercy on you.”

            I have read this story many times but this time I saw it with fresh eyes. Chapter 5 of Mark gives the account of a Demon possessed man who is healed by Jesus.  This story shows the authority of Christ over all as even the demons recognized him as the Son of the Most High.  At this point in his life, only the spirits had truly recognized him as the great Messiah King. He heals the demon-possessed man and it is a beautiful picture of Christ freeing us from our sin.  However the story does not stop there.  In verses 18 and 19 the man begs to travel with Jesus but notice Jesus response.

He said no.

I think we portray God sometimes as a Yes man.  If it seems right and good we assume his answer will be yes because after all He wants us to be happy right? I like to hold to this view of my Lord because it sits better with me.  This healed man simply wanted to continue with Christ.  He had gone through so much and his plea seemed honorable. Surely Jesus would grant him that wish.  I’m sure the man could even envision following Jesus and telling others his story of freedom along the way, yet this is not what happens in the story. Instead, Jesus told him to stay. This can seem harsh but when we look at Mark in its entirety, we see that Jesus knew what this man would face when he would return to his family.  Jesus’ own family (Mark 3:20) thought he was crazy.  He knew and understood staying would be difficult.  He even returned to his own town in Mark 6 and endured the challenges, but the demon-possessed man staying was part of his plan to reach the people in the region of Gerasene.  Even though the man did not want to go back, he was to tell his own family of God’s mercy in his life. In my own life, this is a fear I have.  That I will want to go somewhere and do something and the Lord has other plans.

Because sometimes God says no.

Like he said no to David when he asked to build his temple. Like he said no to this possessed man who wanted to go and follow Jesus. But sometimes following Jesus means staying.

It man mean going back and facing the haunted land and part you want so badly to escape.  Sometimes deliverance comes in the form of remaining.  In the case of this man in Mark, it was a spiritual deliverance- not a physical relocation.  Jesus knew the difficulty he would have in looking his family in the face and seeing his former life in their eyes.  But this time, his return would be different.  He had been healed. Freed from bondage.  He had received unmerited mercy. And He had a story.

The man obediently went and proclaimed his mercy story to his family in Decapolis… and in the wake of his redemption song was a people group who were left in amazement.