A Different Kind of Life

Time and Beyond Time

(Another interesting thought from C.S. Lewis, this one from Mere Christianity.)

Our life come to us moment by moment. One moment disappears before the next comes along; and there is room for very little in each. That is what time is like. And of course you and I tend to take it for granted that this time series--this arrangement of past, present and future--is not simply the way life comes to us but the way all things really exist. We tend to assume that the whole universe and God Himself are always moving on from past to future just as we do...

Almost certainly God is not in time. His life does not consist of moments following one another. If a million people are praying to Him at ten-thirty tonight, He need not listen to them all in that one little snippet which we call ten-thirty. Ten-thirty--and every other moment from the beginning of the world--is always the Present for Him. If you like to put it that way, He has all eternity in which to listen to the split second of prayer put up by a pilot as his plane crashes in flames.

That is difficult, I known. Let me try to give something, not the same, but a bit like it. Suppose I am writing a novel. I write "Mary laid down her work; next moment came a knock at the door!" For Mary who has to live in the imaginary time of my story there is no interval between putting down the work and hearing the knock. But I, who am Mary's maker, do not live in that imaginary time at all. Between writing the first half of that sentence and the second, I might sit down for three hours and think steadily about Mary. I could think about Mary as if she were the only character in the book and for as long as I pleased, and the hours I spent in doing so would not appear in Mary's time (the time inside the story) at all.

A Forceful Justice

I, the Lord, will punish the world for its evil and the wicked for their sin. I will crush the arrogance of the proud and the haughtiness of the mighty. Few will be left alive when I have finished my work…For I will shake the heavens, and the earth will move from its place. I, the Lord Almighty, will show my fury and fierce anger.
--Isaiah 13:11-13

Yesterday’s passage was an image of utter peace and tranquility; today’s is one of complete rage, destruction, and violence. Yet they come a mere two chapters apart and are both seem to come from the voice of God himself—a fact that is possibly more shocking and disorienting than either alternative on its own. In the course of thinking about this, that very discomfort got me thinking—why? Why am I so uneasy with the idea of a God who was both loving and judging, with divinity capable of both peace and violence? If we are truly honest about this situation, I think that most of us would be somewhat comfortable with a god that solely embodied either extreme—either all peace and love or all violence and judgment. It’s a simpler stance—we know what to do with a god like that. Our response can then be equally cut-and-dried; it is when he embodies both that we get uncomfortable and uncertain.

So why then are we so uncomfortable with a God who embodies peace and promises violence? Allow me for a moment to suggest a possible reason: the stance is all too familiar to us. We ourselves know what it is to stand in the tension between peace and violence, desiring the former but very capable of the latter. What is more, we know all too well our own willingness to forsake peace and unjustly employ violent action. We know the uncertainty of our own thoughts and actions—the idea that God would be prone to such erratic behavior is not too far fetched.

Yet there is a deeper strain at work here that we must not miss if we are to properly understand the character of God that Isaiah describes. God here speaks in very violent terms indeed, but it is the force and violence that justice brings. Where we act from a self-seeking violence, God moves in a kind of “forceful justice”—a justice that will brook no quarter to evil and will not be swayed by any opposition. Throughout the Bible, God speaks at great length of his mercy, kindness and grace available for all who would accept it. Yet even God will not allow such grace to be ignored and trampled upon forever. One day he will put a stop to the violence and hate of our world with a forceful justice that will leave no room for opposition and no chance of resistance.

One day all will be at peace—whether willingly or unwillingly. A scary thought indeed.

A Vision I'm Too Small For

In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard and the goat will be at peace. Calves and yearlings will be safe among lions, and a little child will lead them all. The cattle will graze among bears. Cubs and calves will lie down together. And lions will eat grass as the livestock do. Babies will crawl safely among poisonous snakes. Yes, a little child wil put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes and pull it out unharmed. Nothing will hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain. And as the waters fill the sea, so the earth will be filled with people who know the Lord.
--Isaiah 11:6-9

Quite an interesting mental image, isn't it? A wolf and a lamb standing calmly in the same pasture, a bear and a young calf sleeping side by side, and a young child walks safely and surely among them all. Such a nice and picturesque scene, eh?

And I don't buy it. I just don't.

Allow me to explain. I am not saying that I think it is impossible, or that God has lied or otherwise claimed something that He is incapable of doing or unwilling to bring about.

What I am saying is that my heart, my mind, and my soul simply don't lean that way. I have so long lived in a world corrupted by its own selfishness, greed, malice, and violence that I am incapable of taking such an image as an authentic reality. My mind is incapable of comprehending a state of absolute peace, and my heart is unwilling to accept that the ultimate bend of history is toward peace--that God will truly make all things well.

In the end, it seems that the root issue here is not that the vision Isaiah describes is too big to be real, but rather that I am simply too small to endure it.

Anyone else feel this way?

Whose Feet Can I Wash?

If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you.
--John 13:14-15

How influenced are we by the world around us? A simple question, yet one that is not easily answered. We live in the midst of a society obsessed with money and possession, blinded by power and privilege, and mesmerized by sex and beauty. Yet underneath each of these desires—giving them their power and driving them onward—is a deep, abiding selfishness. At its heart, we live in a world driven, fueled, and motivated by self-interest. Everything is centered on the fulfillment of our own urges and wants.

Each of us, I think, would readily agree to such an assessment—it is virtually impossible to deny this characteristic of modern society. Yet I wonder whether we would so readily agree to our own participation in this mindset. Put simply, it is easy enough (and at times quite fulfilling and self-justifying) to say that everyone around us is selfish, yet it is much more difficult to admit to such darkness in our own souls.

Jesus’ words here stand in stark contrast to such self-interest. In Jesus day—a world devoid of advanced transportation—virtually all travel was done on foot by way of dry, dusty roads. As such, the feet of any traveler would quickly become unbelievably filthy. Thus, it was the job of the lowliest servant in any given house to wash the feet of guests prior to the meal—not only for concerns of comfort and sanitation, but also as a sign of respect and honor for the guest.

Yet interestingly enough, Jesus here—at the beginning of his last supper with his closest followers—takes on such a menial, demeaning task. Why? Why would he take both the time and dishonor to do such a thing? Would there not be someone else capable of the task?

Of course there were others capable—Jesus did this intentionally. He takes these significant, fleeting, precious moments to teach his followers one of his greatest lessons—that this was the manner in which they were to live their lives. In direct opposition to the selfishness of both then and now, he states by these simple actions and words that life—the true life that God intended—was meant to be lived differently. Rather than a life characterized by blind self-interest, we are to live in wanton self-sacrifice and generosity.

So a question for us all—whose feet can you wash today?

Sorry for the down time...

Hello folks--sorry that I've been MIA for the last couple of days; between car issues and getting ready to go out of town for a wedding, things have been a bit crazy. Bear with me though--I will be back next Tuesday, so take a breather and check back then!

An Extraordinary Claim

(This excerpt is from Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis—I am curious to hear some thoughts on it…)

One part of the claim seems to slip past us unnoticed because we have heard it so often that we no longer see what it amounts to. I mean the claim to forgive sins: any sins. Now unless the speaker is God, this is really so preposterous as to be comic. We can all understand how a man forgives offences against himself. You tread on my toe and I forgive you, you steal my money and I forgive you. But what should we make of a man, himself unrobed and untrodden on, who announced that he forgave you for treading on other men’s toes and stealing other men’s money? Asinine fatuity is the kindest description that we should give of his conduct. Yet this is what Jesus did. He told people that their sins were forgiven, and never waited to consult all the other people whom their sins had undoubtedly injured. He unhesitatingly behaved as if He was the party chiefly concerned, the person chiefly offended in all offences. This makes sense only if He really was the God whose laws are broken and whose love is wounded in every sin. In the mouth of any speaker who is not God, these words would imply what I can only regard as a silliness and conceit unrivaled by any other character in history.

Where is Your Brother?

Afterward the Lord asked Cain, “Where is your brother? Where is Abel?” “I don’t know!” Cain retorted. “Am I supposed to keep track of him wherever he goes?”
--Genesis 4:9

When we left off on Saturday, all was well in the garden. Man had been created for relationships with God and other people, and had been placed in the perfect environment to nurture those relationships. However as with most good things, man managed to find a way to mess it up. The story is fairly simple—man was given one rule, and of course, he broke it, leading to his getting kicked out of the garden, suffering and toil, and so on. But what we need to see here is in verse 7, just after they eat the fruit.

“Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings. They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.”

They eat the fruit, and instantly everything changes—they have broken the communion that they shared with God. What is more, they realize that they are naked and are suddenly ashamed and cover themselves. By breaking the one rule that God gave them—asserting their own will and desires above the instruction of God who made them and cared for them—they have broken that community that they shared with Him. In so doing, they have also broken the community that they shared with one another—they are now covering up—hiding from one another as well as God.

This is a fundamental law of life—as you sever your relationship with God, it severs your relationship with people. And the converse is true as well—as you connect to God, you will naturally begin to connect with people. Your connection to God is demonstrated in your care for people. The Scriptures amply bear out this idea, and it only takes one more chapter to make it plain—Genesis 4. Here we have the story of Cain and Abel, the sons of Adam and Eve—one is a rancher and one is a farmer. Abel brings an offering to God, and God is pleased with it. However, Cain brings his offering, and God does not accept it. Look at why, though—God says to Cain, “If you do the right thing, will you not be accepted? Sin is waiting for you Cain, it desires to master you, but you must master it.” Basically God is telling him that the very thing in his soul that drives a wedge between him and God is going to cause him to do things he will regret. And sure enough, in the next verse, Cain goes out to the field with Abel and kills him.

Do you catch the significance of this? Cain had no quarrel with Abel. God didn’t reject Cain because of Abel or anything like that—Cain was mad at God, and took it out on the one that God loved. As Cain separated from his relationship with God, he separated from his relationships with others. We live in a society that is at open war against God—and that separation from the relationship that we were designed to enjoy with Him has caused us to become fragmented in our relationships with one another as well.

Anyone experience this kind of connection?

Not Good to Be Alone

And the Lord God said, “It is not good for man to be alone.”
--Genesis 2:18

I would like to offer some more thoughts on the idea from yesterday—about our utter loneliness in the midst of our ability to fulfill our every physical desire. Our society of indulgence has given us ample opportunity to test this theory firsthand—having everything you want does not fill the emptiness of the soul. Our self-centered culture has yet to understand a basic component of the human condition, namely that we were made to live in community. We were made for relationships, and as we sever those relationships with one another and with God, we reap a fractured society and a broken sense of self.

As any lawyer or counselor will tell you, a crucial part of figuring out what is going on or how to solve a problem is learning the backstory. We have to learn where we have already been in order to understand who we are and where we go from here. If we are going to understand how to relate to one another, then we must understand how the whole thing was originally supposed to work. We see in Genesis 1 the story of creation, and of God creating everything out of nothing (which is a fairly impressive feat, if you’ve never thought about it). Notice that after each thing that he creates, he declares it to be “good”—not just “finished” or “adequate,” but “good.” Then at the end, he creates man “in his own image” and declares him to be “very good.” This is an absolutely crucial distinction to make here—God has made everything to coexist with everything else, and it is all “very good.” In order for us to properly understand what has gone wrong in our world, we must understand that a guiding principle of creation is relationship—nothing was created in a vacuum. God did not make things and simply throw them on the planet or haphazardly toss things together—everything was made to work together and to depend on one another. We see this easily in nature—we are just now beginning to understand the far-ranging interconnectedness of the created world. We understand now that if we dump motor oil in the river, then it will poison the physical world around us, and eventually end up poisoning us as well. The world and everything in it is created in a state of relationship. What is more, we see when we flip over to Genesis 2, that God himself declared as he watched Adam do the work that God had given him, that “it is not good for man to be alone.” God looked at the situation and said that “you need more than relationship to the world around you and relationship to me—you need a helper, a companion who is like you.” So he puts Adam to sleep and makes Eve. (Just as a side note, can you imagine how disorienting it might have been for Adam to wake up from that nap???) Look at Adam’s immediate response in verse 23—“this is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh…” He immediately understood that there was a deeper connection than just “hey, you’re pretty cool.” They intuitively understood that they needed one another, that they were made for this kind of community and commitment. The writer even describes the union between them in the most intimate kind of terms—in verse 24, he describes the joined husband and wife as becoming “one flesh.”

There is more to this story (we’ll get to that on Monday), but don’t miss the significance here—from the very beginning, we were designed to live in community. Our insistence on independent and solitary lives is not only counterintuitive to our nature, but it is detrimental to our overall wellbeing.

Where Do You Want to Go Today?

Where do you want to go today?
--Microsoft ad campaign

Think about the advertisements that you see every day—“Get a brand new car with no money down!” “This pill will help you to shed that unsightly bulge and get you ready for the swimsuit season!” “I made $25k last month working from home 3 hours a week!” “The Jack LaLanne Power Juicer will help your family to live healthier, more active lives on only pennies a day!” And so on. It is estimated by some that the average city dweller is exposed to 3000-5000 advertisements per day, a fact that both astounds and scares me. We have at our fingertips access to fulfillment of any conceivable desire, urge, or interest.

Think of the common thread that unites virtually all advertisements—every single one of them appeals to our obsession with ourselves. This product or service will in some way make you happier, more fulfilled, richer, more famous, and so on; in other words "this" product is the golden ticket to the life that you’ve always wanted. Yet as we all well know, such claims are rarely if ever fulfilled. Things just never seem to measure up to all the hype. So we live in a world where we are constantly pressed to acquire the newest gadget, get a better job, lose more weight, become more sexy—and all of this simply leaves us more and more empty—full of disappointment and unfulfilled promises.

Perhaps even more telling is the fact that we have entire websites, television channels, publications, and news segments dedicated to nothing more than celebrity gossip. What is our fascination with the lives of the rich, famous, beautiful, and powerful? I think that it might just be in part due to this deep-seated desire to achieve lasting happiness and fulfillment—I think we identify with them at some level. We may recognize that we lack the ability or resources to achieve this happiness, but if anyone can do it, they can. Deep down, we are rooting for them because we want to believe that our dreams and desires really can come true.

So the question then becomes—why is this the case? Why is it that we are more capable than ever of acquiring anything our heart desires, yet those things once we have them leave us with little more than more desire? How can we be surrounded by more stuff and people than ever, yet still be so lonely?

The 'Set of My Soul'

Even if I am imperfect in so many ways, nonetheless I want my brothers and my family to know my mettle, so that they may clearly recognize the set of my soul.
--St. Patrick, The Confession of St. Patrick 1:6

This is an interesting thought. I have been fond of this quote for a long time, and I ran across it again the other day. If you are not familiar with the story of St. Patrick, it is quite a compelling tale. According to legend, Patrick, a young British boy, is captured by raiders at the age of 16 and taken as a slave to Ireland. After six years of slavery, he manages to escape and return to his family in Britain. Some time later he becomes a priest, and feels God calling him to return to Ireland to minister to the people who had once enslaved him. This particular quote is part of a larger work attributed to him which contains letters to various individuals as well as a kind of running diary of his thoughts and experiences.

All that aside, the idea that is particularly compelling to me is this: do people know my mettle? Do those around me recognize “the set of my soul?”

What I mean is this—the vast majority of people lead lives that are commonplace, obsessed with the ordinary and trivial things of existence, focused on accumulation of decaying possessions and fleeting social status. Am I one of them?

Or, do I live life differently? Do I live my life in pursuit of a compelling purpose? Is my life shaped in practical and observable ways by a deeper belief about life and God?

It is a question for all of us: can those around us clearly and easily recognize the things we stand for—the “hills we die on?” If not, do we really stand for them at all?