Tonight I sit alone in my living room after hearing some new-to-me worship songs, having had my spirit lifted by the ancient truths and the heart-felt delivery that these recordings contained. Which songs they were is not important. The family has gone to bed and I am alone with some quietness. I regret that my noisy life has pushed true quietness to the tiniest of margins.
I think about truth and the way we handle it...the way it is wielded. I can recount time after disastrous time that a chunk of truth was ripped out of its happy home amongst the canon of scripture and displayed as a billboard slogan by someone, more interested in comprehending the breadth of their own power and influence on believing men and women than actually presenting the truth of the Gospel in love, that was entrusted to us.
There is a predictable high-mindedness to it. It always smells the same, and some type of insecurity seems to be at its heart. Sad, when the worshipers of the One, true, glorious, life-giving, wondrous, marvelous, King of kings and Lord of lords, namely Jesus Christ, get so turned around by the ambitious nature of the world and forget that one-upping the other guy is best left outside of the secure church walls. It is far too petty and small for the glorious Bride.
Growing up in the church I have seen this pattern in traveling hucksters, holy-rollers and the hip trendsetters. I’ve seen it equally in the conservative, the liberal and the slushy in-between. The danger is that this type of combative truth-handling will unite groups of people under the heading of a certain brand of thought and drive wedges between people with such efficiency that it is mind-blowing.
Ah, but consensus is such a democratic ideal!
But, at what cost? Here's Christ's brand of consensus, "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me..."
The overarching theme of the bible is this: God wants to commune in true relationship with mankind. Unfortunately, the big stopper on the relationship isn't Him, it is us. It is a scary thought to be open and completely comprehended by God. Spiritual intimacy is the most complete vulnerability that there is. A heart cannot be at once completely vulnerable to a loving God while also being bent on achieving the personal conquest of the "Truer Heart".
I don't mean, "Truer than I've been before." We absolutely need to seek growth in our relationship with God.
What I mean is "Truer than that other guy!"
I think that the quest to be truer than the next person is one of the key differences between the "brood of vipers" and the children of grace. Search through the logs of sermons you have heard, by men you admire and those you don't, and examine them carefully for signs of one-upmanship between pastors, churches, denominations and larger church movements. Think of the attitude of certain church-based social movements that seem to have biblical merit, but something in the heart is just a little off. Think about the difference in the attitude you find in your heart when Christ moves mightily through a church in a nation on the other side of the world, versus a church six blocks away from your own.
(SPOILER ALERT) And now I am going to meddle!
So much has been written and spoken about worship and what true worship is. I don't think I need to cover all of that ground (I'd kind of like to though, with these thoughts in mind). How many opinions have you heard about worship that you got more of the sense of the ruthless guarding of one's own territory (I imagine Gollum) than the desire to join the genuine song of the saints. Lest you think that I see this from the perspective of someone who would overturn every tradition to serve our current entertainment culture, let me stop you there. I have seen savage attacks from the traditional side, but I have seen equally strident and harsh attacks from the more progressive side.
We, "The True-er" find a genuine stream of worship for ourselves and we start to crystallize the form of it, and the form becomes a codified, exclusionary grid of rigid standards which then becomes a non-living framework... an "it", a sorcerers scepter, a black hat for some sort of flimsy trick. We think the form is our way to God, but in the end it is only a way into the abject vanity of human pride. Jesus is The Way. Widespread and personal commitment to following His voice, His heart, and His passion for souls is what makes the worship of the saints something that the world could never reproduce. Without that genuine commitment to Jesus, it is worthy of mockery.
When the Ark of the Covenant, became an "it", things did not go well for the Israelites. Aaron's rod budded to show that it was a living thing brought about by the living God who is the only one capable of breathing life. God is living and breathing and moving in His people. When He moves, His people move with him. This relationship is alive! It is rarely a homogenized or pasteurized moment when a person lays down their will and gives their life to God. It maybe a quiet moment or a loud one, but there is a breaking that happens. We can all identify with that if we have met our personal Waterloo and were rescued by our loving God.
This brings up a little story from a nature scene that we witnessed this past week. Kim and I were sitting in our driveway after making the long commute. We were listening to the end of a program that we were enjoying together. Suddenly I saw something drop, like a pine cone from our tree, and my wife gave a horrified gasp. She became instantly distraught, "It's a baby squirrel!" I looked past her through the driver's side window and saw a awful looking sight. A rather large (for a baby) and fairly hairless creature with a long spindly, pink tail was writhing around on the ground with its eyes still closed. It let out a high piercing little cry. An adult squirrel came part way down the tree and then scurried back up and out of sight.
We sat there watching the scene when Kim noticed a cat was quickly stalking near to the baby. She HISSED it away. Then the cat approached from the opposite side that it thought a more safe approach. Kim angrily threw a small twig at it to scare it and across the street it ran. Now what? Taking it to a vet wasn't an option I was going to explore...not that I wanted to witness the circle of life first hand. I decided to go inside and get the memory out my head of that ugly, spastic thing. Even if the mom came down there, there is no way that a regular sized squirrel was going to be able to pack a baby that size back up the tree. Kim stayed, hiding behind a trash can to keep watch. The baby lay mostly still, moving from time to time.
Kim quietly came inside a while later. I anticipated the news that the baby died, or that cat got a hold of it. Instead, Kim told us with tears in her eyes that the mother timidly came down the tree, found her baby and meticulously cleaned the dirt off of it. Then she carefully folded the baby into a little ball and took it up the tree and out of sight.
On that trip up the tree, I wonder if that little squirrel ever wondered if the reason he was rescued was because his love for his mother was more excellent or that his heart was more true to her than his siblings. I know that squirrels probably don't have all of those kinds of thoughts, but if it were you, wouldn't you be inclined to feel every bit the helpless wretch and that you were deeply loved by a mother who risked her life for you?
We were utterly lost in our sin: fallen, blind, wounded, filthy and alone. No one could make us right with our Father but He, himself. Impossible? Seemingly, but His heroic love made a way. Then, he gave us a home in the church to worship with others, to be fed the Word and to find fellowship until his physical return, sealed by His precious Holy Spirit.
I pray that we'll see that we are truly loved, letting selfish ambition go, and walking in all of the unity that the Holy Spirit affords.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
A Valentine To a City: Bringing Worship From Plaster to Concrete
It was 1915. The first decade of the new century had come and gone, but not without leaving it's mark on the city of San Francisco. In 1906 an earthquake had stricken the city, and soon after, fire burned it down. The city was being rebuilt, much like New Orleans today. Hope was alive, and $16 million had been made available through donations, state bonds, and taxes to put on a ten month World's Fair called The Panama Pacific International Exposition. It was to be a joint celebration of the discovery of the Pacific by Balboa, the completion of the Panama Canal, and to signify the formal resurrection of San Francisco. The city waged an advertising and campaigning effort to win the exposition against their primary competitor, New Orleans, and in 1911 it was awarded the opportunity to host the event by President Taft.
Now they needed a place to put it. They decided to fill in the mud flats to the north of the city, by the bay. It was a 635 acre area located between the Presidio on the west, Van Ness on the east, from the bay on the northern border to Chestnut Street on the South. They filled the new fairgrounds with amazing courtyards, foreign buildings, an amusement park, halls for everything from science and industry to food and farming. There were nightly fireworks, biplane rides, dare devils, parades of every kind, celebrities and heads of state; even the Liberty Bell was carted in for display. People had to spend at least a couple of days just to take it all in.
They built structures, like the centerpiece, "Tower of Jewels", which was a 43-story building covered by more than a hundred thousand hanging "jewels" (Bohemian glass backed by mirrors) which all moved individually when the wind blew giving an amazing spectacle along with the liberal use of the incandescent bulbs and search lights.
(If you want to see what it all looked like, it has been preserved on film and a 25-minute assembly of newsreel is viewable from this website: http://www.exploratorium.edu/history/palace/index.html )
The crazy thing is that you can drive around this part of town today, called the Marina, and none of these structures exist today except for one. They were all primarily wooden structures covered with plaster mixed with type of burlap fiber. These amazing structures that held such gravity and heart rending beauty were actually burned to ashes when they tore the place down. It was opened on February 20, 1915 and it closed December 4, 1915. The structures were only designed to last for one year.
The one building that remains was a remarkable structure called "The Palace of Fine Arts". It was designed as a Valentine to the city by Bernard R. Maybeck, a French educated architect from New York who had settled, nicely into California because of his brilliant but non-conformist bent. For the fair he designed this structure to look like overgrown, Roman ruins, partially to show "the mortality of grandeur and the vanity of human wishes...", and partially to give the visitor a wonderful experience. It was large rotunda with a colonnade on either side, with a beautiful lagoon to reflect the amazing beauty of the design. The scale of the palace is immense and the design is a freely interpreted, Romantic expression of Roman architecture, with Greek decorations. Started December 8, 1913, it was the last major structure to be constructed.
The people who came to see it were so impressed with it that before great the exposition was even over, a campaign was already underway to preserve this incredible landmark. Through the years many efforts were taken to preserve the site, but because the original materials were simply not going to withstand nature for very long, at various times the palace fell into disrepair. Federal funds were used to repair some of the decorations and from 1934 to 1942 there were eighteen lighted tennis courts placed at the site by the Recreation and Park Department. During World War II the site was used as a military motor pool.
From 1947, when the military gave the site back to the city, until the late 50's, the area sat in disrepair. At that time it was decided that it would be fenced off and scheduled for demolition as a pubic hazard. Then, some concerned citizens, led by philanthropist Walter S. Johnson decided to start a drive to bring the site back to it's former glory, and preserve it for future generations. In July of 1964 the funding was in place and the contract was awarded. The original design elements were carefully removed and molds were made of them. It was taken down to the steel framework and concrete castings were made. A stripped down version of the original was ready by 1967. As a gift to the city and the people by Walter S. Johnson, the final colonnades were put in place, and finally finished in January 1975.
I picture going to the World's Fair and seeing these amazing sights. No doubt, my untrained eye and the sheer immensity would have faked me into believing that these structures were timeless wonders that would remain permanent in this newly reborn city. It was a hoax. Not a hoax designed to harm anyone but a hoax nonetheless. I would even argue that it was a necessary hoax, meant to inspire faith among the people of the city and among the wealthy companies that would bring future business to San Francisco. Possibly a dream that might inspire the continued re-growth and healing of the economy and society after the great tragedy that threatened to destroy the whole place.
Like an anthem of great ideals sung by mere slobs. They cannot possibly live up to the high ideals they are singing about, so in a way, the song is a hoax. But, if the song is sung without irony, and the ideals upheld and fought for, the song can affect the outcome of thousands of lives. The lives that are lived, daily to aspire to these ideals, to great bravery, to fight for justice, to have faith in the face of doubting; those lives are the thing that transforms the artifice into the actual.
The burlap and plaster becomes concrete.
The tearfully sung songs of faith in God become effectual in generosity and mercy.
Without love's response, the most sublime moments of worship become nothing more than the grand "Tower of Jewels", great for a moment, even dazzling to the ear, until the whole wobbly structure is ripped to the ground and burned.
Instead, listen to the only substance in the songs that really matters, the Word of God. It's the steel structure at the center. It doesn't go away. Allow genuine materials like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control to replace the artificial man-made materials. Be careful, because a proud heart, jealousy, greed, and lust can easily masquerade in church clothes. See for yourself how beautiful and lasting a life of faith, genuinely lived and freely given will stand the test of time and become a monument to God. He is the master architect and he designed you to be breathtaking in beauty and scope.
You are a masterpiece!
Now they needed a place to put it. They decided to fill in the mud flats to the north of the city, by the bay. It was a 635 acre area located between the Presidio on the west, Van Ness on the east, from the bay on the northern border to Chestnut Street on the South. They filled the new fairgrounds with amazing courtyards, foreign buildings, an amusement park, halls for everything from science and industry to food and farming. There were nightly fireworks, biplane rides, dare devils, parades of every kind, celebrities and heads of state; even the Liberty Bell was carted in for display. People had to spend at least a couple of days just to take it all in.
They built structures, like the centerpiece, "Tower of Jewels", which was a 43-story building covered by more than a hundred thousand hanging "jewels" (Bohemian glass backed by mirrors) which all moved individually when the wind blew giving an amazing spectacle along with the liberal use of the incandescent bulbs and search lights.
(If you want to see what it all looked like, it has been preserved on film and a 25-minute assembly of newsreel is viewable from this website: http://www.exploratorium.edu/history/palace/index.html )
The crazy thing is that you can drive around this part of town today, called the Marina, and none of these structures exist today except for one. They were all primarily wooden structures covered with plaster mixed with type of burlap fiber. These amazing structures that held such gravity and heart rending beauty were actually burned to ashes when they tore the place down. It was opened on February 20, 1915 and it closed December 4, 1915. The structures were only designed to last for one year.
The one building that remains was a remarkable structure called "The Palace of Fine Arts". It was designed as a Valentine to the city by Bernard R. Maybeck, a French educated architect from New York who had settled, nicely into California because of his brilliant but non-conformist bent. For the fair he designed this structure to look like overgrown, Roman ruins, partially to show "the mortality of grandeur and the vanity of human wishes...", and partially to give the visitor a wonderful experience. It was large rotunda with a colonnade on either side, with a beautiful lagoon to reflect the amazing beauty of the design. The scale of the palace is immense and the design is a freely interpreted, Romantic expression of Roman architecture, with Greek decorations. Started December 8, 1913, it was the last major structure to be constructed.
The people who came to see it were so impressed with it that before great the exposition was even over, a campaign was already underway to preserve this incredible landmark. Through the years many efforts were taken to preserve the site, but because the original materials were simply not going to withstand nature for very long, at various times the palace fell into disrepair. Federal funds were used to repair some of the decorations and from 1934 to 1942 there were eighteen lighted tennis courts placed at the site by the Recreation and Park Department. During World War II the site was used as a military motor pool.
From 1947, when the military gave the site back to the city, until the late 50's, the area sat in disrepair. At that time it was decided that it would be fenced off and scheduled for demolition as a pubic hazard. Then, some concerned citizens, led by philanthropist Walter S. Johnson decided to start a drive to bring the site back to it's former glory, and preserve it for future generations. In July of 1964 the funding was in place and the contract was awarded. The original design elements were carefully removed and molds were made of them. It was taken down to the steel framework and concrete castings were made. A stripped down version of the original was ready by 1967. As a gift to the city and the people by Walter S. Johnson, the final colonnades were put in place, and finally finished in January 1975.
I picture going to the World's Fair and seeing these amazing sights. No doubt, my untrained eye and the sheer immensity would have faked me into believing that these structures were timeless wonders that would remain permanent in this newly reborn city. It was a hoax. Not a hoax designed to harm anyone but a hoax nonetheless. I would even argue that it was a necessary hoax, meant to inspire faith among the people of the city and among the wealthy companies that would bring future business to San Francisco. Possibly a dream that might inspire the continued re-growth and healing of the economy and society after the great tragedy that threatened to destroy the whole place.
Like an anthem of great ideals sung by mere slobs. They cannot possibly live up to the high ideals they are singing about, so in a way, the song is a hoax. But, if the song is sung without irony, and the ideals upheld and fought for, the song can affect the outcome of thousands of lives. The lives that are lived, daily to aspire to these ideals, to great bravery, to fight for justice, to have faith in the face of doubting; those lives are the thing that transforms the artifice into the actual.
The burlap and plaster becomes concrete.
The tearfully sung songs of faith in God become effectual in generosity and mercy.
Without love's response, the most sublime moments of worship become nothing more than the grand "Tower of Jewels", great for a moment, even dazzling to the ear, until the whole wobbly structure is ripped to the ground and burned.
Instead, listen to the only substance in the songs that really matters, the Word of God. It's the steel structure at the center. It doesn't go away. Allow genuine materials like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control to replace the artificial man-made materials. Be careful, because a proud heart, jealousy, greed, and lust can easily masquerade in church clothes. See for yourself how beautiful and lasting a life of faith, genuinely lived and freely given will stand the test of time and become a monument to God. He is the master architect and he designed you to be breathtaking in beauty and scope.
You are a masterpiece!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Mundane Beauty: The "Ought"
I was sitting in Panda Express today, eating lunch. As I watched the lunchtime crowd quickly move into the place, through the line and out of the restaurant, I saw an older Caucasian woman, with brilliant white hair dressed for an energetic day of errands. She came up to the glass to see what they were offering. I work near an area with a large population of retirees, so there was nothing strange about seeing her there, but she caught my eye for some reason. I wondered if she knew her way around the Panda or if she was new.
She looked at the food as the businessman in front of her absently ordered food while simultaneously setting something up with a contractor on his cell phone. She stepped in front of him in the line to see what kind of entrees they had and he walked around her, chatting loudly on his phone and pointing at food to the server. She hadn't bothered him at all.
Another server came up to help the woman, asking her if she knew what she'd like.
"I've never done this before." I noticed that the woman's head and neck rhythmically shook. "I want two entrees like that man just ordered, but I am not sure how it works." Even through her bold, clear voice I couldn't help but feel her vulnerability. I sensed that in the past she was a woman who got things done and that she wasn't going to let this new experience intimidate her.
"Okay," said the kind-faced, Hispanic-American woman, "You can just order a side first, and then you can choose two entrees."
"I am not sure which things I am choosing from." She showed a bit more of her weakness, but she asked without asking. Her dignity was still intact.
"You can choose from fried rice, Chow Mein, or steamed vegetables", the 20ish year-old server said with sweetness and patience without a hint of a patronizing tone.
"Hmmm," she gazed carefully at the choices, "I think I will have Chow Mein." Some spittle flew onto the glass as she spoke, "And now for my entrees!" She pronounced it like it was spelled (like "entry" with an s at the end).
She pointed to one of the entrees and said that she wanted that one, then she asked for Kung Pao Chicken.
"Oh, that one is pretty spicy, would you still like it?"
The woman pulled a face, "Oh, no! Certainly not!" Her eyes darted around to see what else she might like, but not recognizing any of them, she paused.
The server quickly offered another choice, "The mushroom chicken is not spicy, would you like that one?"
"Yes, I think I would," grateful for the help of the nice server.
One minute later I saw her hurrying out the door with her plastic bag, toward her car, ready to take on the rest of her day.
Something struck me in that moment and made me stop and thank Jesus that I got to witness it. I am not sure what it was but it brought a tear to my eye. I am pretty sappy, but I felt something deeper in that moment. Maybe it was one of those teaching moments where my heavenly Father points out something as we walk together.
I think it had something to do with the idea that to have and maintain dignity as an older person, there must be a societal framework in place that honors us as we age. The fact is that most of the time, I don't see dignity afforded to the weak and elderly by the young. Mostly, I see people treating them like the bother that they can be, and not like the image of God that he created us all to be.
I am sure, I have given this conversation fifty times the attention that these two women did, and that makes it all the more beautiful. I was afforded the privilege to witness evidence of what Ravi Zacharius calls the heaven-born "Ought" as it is expressed towards human frailty. Where does kindness towards the weaker among us have it's place in the Darwinian mindset of secular American Culture? There is no logical reason, other than the in-born thumbprint of the Almighty, that there should be any such thing as everyday, mundane kindnesses towards those among us who no longer work a job or can help us to evolve to the next phase of humanity.
But, we ought to...and we know it. There is no escaping it, and that "Ought" will have its day in court. The "Ought" is where heaven first touches the soul of man. It's where the heavenly Marine Corps first hits land and starts it's base of operations. If you don't shy away from it, but listen to it and walk in that wisdom, you are embarking on a wonderful journey to meet the one who made you, face to face.
She looked at the food as the businessman in front of her absently ordered food while simultaneously setting something up with a contractor on his cell phone. She stepped in front of him in the line to see what kind of entrees they had and he walked around her, chatting loudly on his phone and pointing at food to the server. She hadn't bothered him at all.
Another server came up to help the woman, asking her if she knew what she'd like.
"I've never done this before." I noticed that the woman's head and neck rhythmically shook. "I want two entrees like that man just ordered, but I am not sure how it works." Even through her bold, clear voice I couldn't help but feel her vulnerability. I sensed that in the past she was a woman who got things done and that she wasn't going to let this new experience intimidate her.
"Okay," said the kind-faced, Hispanic-American woman, "You can just order a side first, and then you can choose two entrees."
"I am not sure which things I am choosing from." She showed a bit more of her weakness, but she asked without asking. Her dignity was still intact.
"You can choose from fried rice, Chow Mein, or steamed vegetables", the 20ish year-old server said with sweetness and patience without a hint of a patronizing tone.
"Hmmm," she gazed carefully at the choices, "I think I will have Chow Mein." Some spittle flew onto the glass as she spoke, "And now for my entrees!" She pronounced it like it was spelled (like "entry" with an s at the end).
She pointed to one of the entrees and said that she wanted that one, then she asked for Kung Pao Chicken.
"Oh, that one is pretty spicy, would you still like it?"
The woman pulled a face, "Oh, no! Certainly not!" Her eyes darted around to see what else she might like, but not recognizing any of them, she paused.
The server quickly offered another choice, "The mushroom chicken is not spicy, would you like that one?"
"Yes, I think I would," grateful for the help of the nice server.
One minute later I saw her hurrying out the door with her plastic bag, toward her car, ready to take on the rest of her day.
Something struck me in that moment and made me stop and thank Jesus that I got to witness it. I am not sure what it was but it brought a tear to my eye. I am pretty sappy, but I felt something deeper in that moment. Maybe it was one of those teaching moments where my heavenly Father points out something as we walk together.
I think it had something to do with the idea that to have and maintain dignity as an older person, there must be a societal framework in place that honors us as we age. The fact is that most of the time, I don't see dignity afforded to the weak and elderly by the young. Mostly, I see people treating them like the bother that they can be, and not like the image of God that he created us all to be.
I am sure, I have given this conversation fifty times the attention that these two women did, and that makes it all the more beautiful. I was afforded the privilege to witness evidence of what Ravi Zacharius calls the heaven-born "Ought" as it is expressed towards human frailty. Where does kindness towards the weaker among us have it's place in the Darwinian mindset of secular American Culture? There is no logical reason, other than the in-born thumbprint of the Almighty, that there should be any such thing as everyday, mundane kindnesses towards those among us who no longer work a job or can help us to evolve to the next phase of humanity.
But, we ought to...and we know it. There is no escaping it, and that "Ought" will have its day in court. The "Ought" is where heaven first touches the soul of man. It's where the heavenly Marine Corps first hits land and starts it's base of operations. If you don't shy away from it, but listen to it and walk in that wisdom, you are embarking on a wonderful journey to meet the one who made you, face to face.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Having Trouble responding?
I have had a few people who have had difficulty making a response to the blog. Please feel free to email me your response to amiable.mess@gmail.com . Reference the particular entry you would like to respond to in your email.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Losing Weight: Yes I Can...Maybe
Today is a difficult day. It is also a good day. My food choices over the past weekend took me toward perceived pleasure and away from perceived pain. I was confronted last night with what those choices brought me in the form of two extra pounds gained in front of a room full of people who are losing lots of weight.
I have determined that what works for one celled animals does not serve me very well. They can just bump around the world looking for food and back away from pain and they are the better for it. I guess I need to re-evaluate what gives me pleasure and pain. I am in the difficult place of having lost a lot of weight but not all of it. When I was nearly a hundred pounds heavier, the pain of my choices was so easy to grasp. But now, the scale has shifted and life is good! There is so much less pain in my life now.
To truly change my behavior, I shall embark upon a P.R. tour... in my mind! I need to visit every place where the trains stop (long-held and reinforced neural pathways) and proclam a message of change. I need to convert all of the red states to blue (or vice versa). I need to preach and proclaim this message with every action I take and every word that I hear myself say. Sounds very tiring, and I haven't come up with the right sales pitch yet. If I am going to embark upon a long and enduring battle I at least have to believe my own slogans, or I will lose heart. Here are some of the available choices and why I am having difficulty printing up the proverbial banner for each one.
1. Slogan: "Chicks dig thinner guys"
Why it won't work: I am not trying to "win the ladies", I have a great woman and she not only accepts me, but she really digs me. If we are just talking about attractiveness and how that effects people's openness to my ministry, I have found that people have been very receptive to the message of the music in the songs I sing wether I am 370 lbs or 270lbs, and I am not trying to win people based on my looks anyway. That seems shallow. I think the door to people's hearts swings open a little easier when I am less immense, but I feel like in my little corner of the world, things are pretty good. Mind you, I understand that change NEEDS to happen, I just need to crystalize a good reason why.
2. Slogan: "You will die!"
Why it won't work: The health scare tactic has been used on me since I was a small child and it has no power anymore. Fear can only work for so long. A person just starts to accept their fate. Keeping my soul ready for heaven is great but that's not exactly the agent of change that I am looking for.
3. Slogan: "You'll stop feeling embarrassed"
Why it won't work: This one is interesting. I guess to have my perspective I'd have to give you a semi-fictional scenario.
You are a chubby awkward teenager with little athletic ability. You walk to the gym with your jock friend. He talks you into playing basketball with his friends and even though you protest, it is clear he will not take, "no" for an answer. You've never had a girlfriend but all of these guys have their girlfriends and their girlfriends friends hanging around watching the game from the sideline. It's time to choose up teams, you get picked last and you end up on the opposite team as your friend, so you don't even get the comfort of playing alongside someone who has your back. How could it get worse, you ask? Then the decision is made...the worst has happened...you hear the fateful word, "skins!" You have to keep playing though and to make the best of it, you try to make baskets and get rebounds. At the end of the day you hope that people don't just walk away saying, "Did you see that fat kid try to play ball?"
Do you hear isolation, abandonment, shame and the struggle for significance?
These situations happened time after time as I grew up, and overall the theme of my professional life, so far, has been a variation on that theme. I am so used to it, I am not even able to access the pain of it. It has gone from "what I look like" to, "who I am". Everything I do in public takes a good stiff shot of courage because I live my life, 'in spite of" being overweight.
What I mean is, I know going in, that if I am going to reach an audience when I sing I need to be at my tip-top best or I will never overcome the initial impression people have of me. If I am physically unable to be at my best, vocally, I walk away with my head down because I think that it all hinges on my ability to overcome people's prejudgments. My mind tells me that it can't always be true, experience tells me that God is faithful to overcome and even flourish in my weakness, but emotionally, I find it very difficult to move past it (it makes worship all the more beautiful as the focus is completely on God and not on myself).
Embarrassment/shame is the background static of my life. It's always there, but I have consciously tuned it out as much as I can. Talk about reinforced neural pathways! The static went way down when I lost the initial weight. It was so freeing. The pleasure of that has been amazing. My embarrassment level, while still there has decreased a ton, especially when I hear from people who knew me before and have seen the change. Plus I can always tell myself that I am working on it which is way better than the years I spent with no plan and no hope of being able to work on it in any concerted way.
So, do I open the door to feel the full brunt of embarrassment so that I can move to the final stages of my diet? It is time to go shirtless in public? I think not. Besides, I get kind of mad that people make the kinds of snap judgments about people based on the way they look and I get stubborn. I feel like I am allowing their shallow perspective to rule me. Of course, I do it too, but let's not talk about that right now.
4. Slogan: "Do it for Jesus"
Undecided on this one: One talking point that has some promise in the early polls is that "Christ accepts me and loves me as I am, but the better steward I am of the resources He has given me, the more honoring to Him my life becomes." It's the truest motivation I can come up with, but it's not very concrete and not very immediate, versus the pleasure of food that is as immediate as it gets. Plus, it really depends on my moment by moment faith that God actually cares what I am putting in my mouth, and that my stewardship actually means something to Him. For the most part I am okay with that, but then someone brings a pizza into the room and I become functionally "agnostic". In other words, I turn a bind eye to the lack of honor I give to God because He isn't hitting me with a stick to tell me to stop. I need to create something with more of a taser effect. Maybe I just need to take a whiff of some ammonia every time I eat the wrong foods. That will create enough panic to my system that surely it would create a lasting effect...well, wouldn't it?
I NEED YOU
If anyone has any ideas for my internal ad campaign, please comment liberally below. I would love to have your perspective on this, especially if you have ever made positive changes in your life that have really stuck.
I have determined that what works for one celled animals does not serve me very well. They can just bump around the world looking for food and back away from pain and they are the better for it. I guess I need to re-evaluate what gives me pleasure and pain. I am in the difficult place of having lost a lot of weight but not all of it. When I was nearly a hundred pounds heavier, the pain of my choices was so easy to grasp. But now, the scale has shifted and life is good! There is so much less pain in my life now.
To truly change my behavior, I shall embark upon a P.R. tour... in my mind! I need to visit every place where the trains stop (long-held and reinforced neural pathways) and proclam a message of change. I need to convert all of the red states to blue (or vice versa). I need to preach and proclaim this message with every action I take and every word that I hear myself say. Sounds very tiring, and I haven't come up with the right sales pitch yet. If I am going to embark upon a long and enduring battle I at least have to believe my own slogans, or I will lose heart. Here are some of the available choices and why I am having difficulty printing up the proverbial banner for each one.
1. Slogan: "Chicks dig thinner guys"
Why it won't work: I am not trying to "win the ladies", I have a great woman and she not only accepts me, but she really digs me. If we are just talking about attractiveness and how that effects people's openness to my ministry, I have found that people have been very receptive to the message of the music in the songs I sing wether I am 370 lbs or 270lbs, and I am not trying to win people based on my looks anyway. That seems shallow. I think the door to people's hearts swings open a little easier when I am less immense, but I feel like in my little corner of the world, things are pretty good. Mind you, I understand that change NEEDS to happen, I just need to crystalize a good reason why.
2. Slogan: "You will die!"
Why it won't work: The health scare tactic has been used on me since I was a small child and it has no power anymore. Fear can only work for so long. A person just starts to accept their fate. Keeping my soul ready for heaven is great but that's not exactly the agent of change that I am looking for.
3. Slogan: "You'll stop feeling embarrassed"
Why it won't work: This one is interesting. I guess to have my perspective I'd have to give you a semi-fictional scenario.
You are a chubby awkward teenager with little athletic ability. You walk to the gym with your jock friend. He talks you into playing basketball with his friends and even though you protest, it is clear he will not take, "no" for an answer. You've never had a girlfriend but all of these guys have their girlfriends and their girlfriends friends hanging around watching the game from the sideline. It's time to choose up teams, you get picked last and you end up on the opposite team as your friend, so you don't even get the comfort of playing alongside someone who has your back. How could it get worse, you ask? Then the decision is made...the worst has happened...you hear the fateful word, "skins!" You have to keep playing though and to make the best of it, you try to make baskets and get rebounds. At the end of the day you hope that people don't just walk away saying, "Did you see that fat kid try to play ball?"
Do you hear isolation, abandonment, shame and the struggle for significance?
These situations happened time after time as I grew up, and overall the theme of my professional life, so far, has been a variation on that theme. I am so used to it, I am not even able to access the pain of it. It has gone from "what I look like" to, "who I am". Everything I do in public takes a good stiff shot of courage because I live my life, 'in spite of" being overweight.
What I mean is, I know going in, that if I am going to reach an audience when I sing I need to be at my tip-top best or I will never overcome the initial impression people have of me. If I am physically unable to be at my best, vocally, I walk away with my head down because I think that it all hinges on my ability to overcome people's prejudgments. My mind tells me that it can't always be true, experience tells me that God is faithful to overcome and even flourish in my weakness, but emotionally, I find it very difficult to move past it (it makes worship all the more beautiful as the focus is completely on God and not on myself).
Embarrassment/shame is the background static of my life. It's always there, but I have consciously tuned it out as much as I can. Talk about reinforced neural pathways! The static went way down when I lost the initial weight. It was so freeing. The pleasure of that has been amazing. My embarrassment level, while still there has decreased a ton, especially when I hear from people who knew me before and have seen the change. Plus I can always tell myself that I am working on it which is way better than the years I spent with no plan and no hope of being able to work on it in any concerted way.
So, do I open the door to feel the full brunt of embarrassment so that I can move to the final stages of my diet? It is time to go shirtless in public? I think not. Besides, I get kind of mad that people make the kinds of snap judgments about people based on the way they look and I get stubborn. I feel like I am allowing their shallow perspective to rule me. Of course, I do it too, but let's not talk about that right now.
4. Slogan: "Do it for Jesus"
Undecided on this one: One talking point that has some promise in the early polls is that "Christ accepts me and loves me as I am, but the better steward I am of the resources He has given me, the more honoring to Him my life becomes." It's the truest motivation I can come up with, but it's not very concrete and not very immediate, versus the pleasure of food that is as immediate as it gets. Plus, it really depends on my moment by moment faith that God actually cares what I am putting in my mouth, and that my stewardship actually means something to Him. For the most part I am okay with that, but then someone brings a pizza into the room and I become functionally "agnostic". In other words, I turn a bind eye to the lack of honor I give to God because He isn't hitting me with a stick to tell me to stop. I need to create something with more of a taser effect. Maybe I just need to take a whiff of some ammonia every time I eat the wrong foods. That will create enough panic to my system that surely it would create a lasting effect...well, wouldn't it?
I NEED YOU
If anyone has any ideas for my internal ad campaign, please comment liberally below. I would love to have your perspective on this, especially if you have ever made positive changes in your life that have really stuck.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Scolded By A Flower: The Nature Of Beauty
On the way to work this morning hustling through traffic and studying music for the weekend on my car stereo my heart was lifted in a moment of worship that seemed very transcendent and I was feeling the glow of God's grace. Suddenly, a memory came flooding to my mind which held me firmly. This memory unchained a thought that I have found locked in the margins of my heart since I was a child, but always very present and very much in the core of my humanity.
I remembered a time when I was three or four years old and I held a flower of some type. I think it was a carnation. I had seen them before and there had always been a fearsome beauty to flowers when I really looked at them. To describe my feelings for them, I would have to say that I felt an amazement, an almost disbelief of what I was looking at. I had a deep sense of wanting to know how the lacy overlapping swirling petals were connected. What made it work? What was at the heart of this thing that held such sway over my heart and mind? This day I would find out.
I was determined to get to the heart of this puzzle. I can see that I was a conceited little man to believe I could ascertain how the flower became so beautiful. I began to open this flower and carefully pull at the petals to reveal, once and for all, what made it all tick. But after my exploration, the flower seemed to disappear and all I held in my hand was a bunch of bruised leaves, petals and a stem. The thing, when broken down, had left me with nothing but a deeper question. The wilted petals were beautiful in themselves, but they held nothing of their former beauty. The center of this formerly stunning vortex of texture and color seemed to pull me in. It demanded that I find out what was behind this beauty. My supremely finite understanding yielded no resolution. There had to be an answer!
At the time, I tucked the question into the sidebar of my life, and waited.
After remembering this moment earlier this morning, my heart searched for other times in my life when I could sense this same pattern happening. I think looking at the stars and being blown away with the immensity of the heavens, seeing a snow-capped mountain for the first time, and later when I moved to the West Coast and experienced the ocean, I had that sense again. Through the years the study of these things has taken the mystery away from what they are in concrete terms, but again, I was left with the question of beauty. When disassembled, these are just gaseous orbs in space, chunks of rock, and large bodies of water, and they seem to be nothing important or transcendent in and of themselves. The swirling vortex just got bigger.
My thoughts carried me to adulthood.
I thought of seeing the beauty of a woman and taking my wife to be my bride. Again, in my conceit, I thought that maybe I could get to the center of the question by becoming intimately involved with her. As I got to know her, I felt I might understand the heart of beauty, at last. As I truly got to know her and lived our lives together through the joy and the stress, what I realized is that if we break each other into our parts we find that we are both deeply flawed people with very little value in and of ourselves.
As we had our three babies and fully embraced our role as parents, the breathtaking beauty of a child becomes dampened by the crying, the diaper changes, the temper tantrums and the responsibility to give them stability in the home. I can look at each of my kids and see their personalities, physical attributes, talents, shortcomings, victories and outright failures and quickly lose heart. Are my wife and I really in charge of creating a place where the beauty of their lives will be set on the path to find ultimate fulfillment? The challenges are too great for us...I know that.
In the past I have looked at people that have some type of genius, the kind that overwhelms me with its depth, complexity and beauty. I thought that if I could just learn about them or talk with them, maybe I could find out what is the seed at the center of it all. Whenever I have really studied someone or even gotten to know them, I ask a thousand questions and after all of them have been answered I come to the stark and disappointing realization that they don't have any clue that what they are doing is special. They feel like an idiot many times, just like I do. They are simply living out the beauty that was given to them. There is nothing physical that can fully explain the beautiful. I think I believed that if I discovered what was at the heart of their genius, I could nurture it in myself. Finding out that smart people, talented people, funny people and creative people have been given these gifts and they show themselves in a dazzling array with little to do with their control (I didn't say development) made me feel a little jealous, like I couldn't ever be as special as I wanted to be unless I was lucky enough to get the magic gift.
More recently after experience has shown me where some of my own strengths were hidden, and have been led to be able to use them in ways that have effected people’s lives. I looked to myself with the question of beauty. I riddle myself with all of the same questions that I wanted to ask others.
"Okay, buddy! You have broken down natural beauty, beauty in your loved ones and the beauty of talent and genius in mankind. What about you? You have unexplained areas that have touched others. Where does it come from? Did you create it? Did you form it? Did your incredible scope (ha) and great competence (ha ha) allow you to move situations around so that your talents would be used and appreciated by others? Why are you so special that you would get to do what you love? Crystallize for me, what allows you to know how to do what you do so automatically? Where exactly does talent lie? Is there any intrinsic value to you or your actions on this earth? "
I break myself down. I am that little carnation being pulled apart by my own little short stubby, drool-covered toddler fingers. I quickly discard sepal, petals, stigma and stamen. This time it's different though. More intense.
I look past the leaves, past the bruised, wilted stem. This vortex, this funnel cloud which has swept, shaken and stripped me of long held assumptions, held me weak and speechless and at times pulled the air out of my lungs, was finally going to yield an answer.
A tiny voice from the wilted, sad looking carnation cries out to me in a decidedly chastening tone.
"I am a flower! I have beauty, and I am of great value! Look at me, but gaze too deeply and you will lose sight of my beauty because its source is elsewhere! I am not the end; I am only a witness, a reflection, a darkened window. Stop this unending dissection! Settle this in your heart! You can never possess me or my beauty. If you try, I will become an ugly thing. I cease to reflect the Beautiful One when I become the focal point. Those who falsely think they are not made things and try to steal this beauty instead of reflecting it are foolish and have cut themselves off from what makes them valuable. Simply grow, bloom, and humbly show yourself as the flower you are meant to be, our Father will do the rest."
So, without rebuttal (who can argue wth a flower), I endeavor to enjoy the beauty that God has placed in nature, in the people I meet, and the people He has placed me with; while happily reflecting the unique beauty that He would like to share through me to those He wants me to touch.
I think that is a life worth living!
(Ref: Matthew 6:28-29, Romans 8:21-23, Ezekiel 31:9-10, 16-17, Luke 12:25)
I remembered a time when I was three or four years old and I held a flower of some type. I think it was a carnation. I had seen them before and there had always been a fearsome beauty to flowers when I really looked at them. To describe my feelings for them, I would have to say that I felt an amazement, an almost disbelief of what I was looking at. I had a deep sense of wanting to know how the lacy overlapping swirling petals were connected. What made it work? What was at the heart of this thing that held such sway over my heart and mind? This day I would find out.
I was determined to get to the heart of this puzzle. I can see that I was a conceited little man to believe I could ascertain how the flower became so beautiful. I began to open this flower and carefully pull at the petals to reveal, once and for all, what made it all tick. But after my exploration, the flower seemed to disappear and all I held in my hand was a bunch of bruised leaves, petals and a stem. The thing, when broken down, had left me with nothing but a deeper question. The wilted petals were beautiful in themselves, but they held nothing of their former beauty. The center of this formerly stunning vortex of texture and color seemed to pull me in. It demanded that I find out what was behind this beauty. My supremely finite understanding yielded no resolution. There had to be an answer!
At the time, I tucked the question into the sidebar of my life, and waited.
After remembering this moment earlier this morning, my heart searched for other times in my life when I could sense this same pattern happening. I think looking at the stars and being blown away with the immensity of the heavens, seeing a snow-capped mountain for the first time, and later when I moved to the West Coast and experienced the ocean, I had that sense again. Through the years the study of these things has taken the mystery away from what they are in concrete terms, but again, I was left with the question of beauty. When disassembled, these are just gaseous orbs in space, chunks of rock, and large bodies of water, and they seem to be nothing important or transcendent in and of themselves. The swirling vortex just got bigger.
My thoughts carried me to adulthood.
I thought of seeing the beauty of a woman and taking my wife to be my bride. Again, in my conceit, I thought that maybe I could get to the center of the question by becoming intimately involved with her. As I got to know her, I felt I might understand the heart of beauty, at last. As I truly got to know her and lived our lives together through the joy and the stress, what I realized is that if we break each other into our parts we find that we are both deeply flawed people with very little value in and of ourselves.
As we had our three babies and fully embraced our role as parents, the breathtaking beauty of a child becomes dampened by the crying, the diaper changes, the temper tantrums and the responsibility to give them stability in the home. I can look at each of my kids and see their personalities, physical attributes, talents, shortcomings, victories and outright failures and quickly lose heart. Are my wife and I really in charge of creating a place where the beauty of their lives will be set on the path to find ultimate fulfillment? The challenges are too great for us...I know that.
In the past I have looked at people that have some type of genius, the kind that overwhelms me with its depth, complexity and beauty. I thought that if I could just learn about them or talk with them, maybe I could find out what is the seed at the center of it all. Whenever I have really studied someone or even gotten to know them, I ask a thousand questions and after all of them have been answered I come to the stark and disappointing realization that they don't have any clue that what they are doing is special. They feel like an idiot many times, just like I do. They are simply living out the beauty that was given to them. There is nothing physical that can fully explain the beautiful. I think I believed that if I discovered what was at the heart of their genius, I could nurture it in myself. Finding out that smart people, talented people, funny people and creative people have been given these gifts and they show themselves in a dazzling array with little to do with their control (I didn't say development) made me feel a little jealous, like I couldn't ever be as special as I wanted to be unless I was lucky enough to get the magic gift.
More recently after experience has shown me where some of my own strengths were hidden, and have been led to be able to use them in ways that have effected people’s lives. I looked to myself with the question of beauty. I riddle myself with all of the same questions that I wanted to ask others.
"Okay, buddy! You have broken down natural beauty, beauty in your loved ones and the beauty of talent and genius in mankind. What about you? You have unexplained areas that have touched others. Where does it come from? Did you create it? Did you form it? Did your incredible scope (ha) and great competence (ha ha) allow you to move situations around so that your talents would be used and appreciated by others? Why are you so special that you would get to do what you love? Crystallize for me, what allows you to know how to do what you do so automatically? Where exactly does talent lie? Is there any intrinsic value to you or your actions on this earth? "
I break myself down. I am that little carnation being pulled apart by my own little short stubby, drool-covered toddler fingers. I quickly discard sepal, petals, stigma and stamen. This time it's different though. More intense.
I look past the leaves, past the bruised, wilted stem. This vortex, this funnel cloud which has swept, shaken and stripped me of long held assumptions, held me weak and speechless and at times pulled the air out of my lungs, was finally going to yield an answer.
A tiny voice from the wilted, sad looking carnation cries out to me in a decidedly chastening tone.
"I am a flower! I have beauty, and I am of great value! Look at me, but gaze too deeply and you will lose sight of my beauty because its source is elsewhere! I am not the end; I am only a witness, a reflection, a darkened window. Stop this unending dissection! Settle this in your heart! You can never possess me or my beauty. If you try, I will become an ugly thing. I cease to reflect the Beautiful One when I become the focal point. Those who falsely think they are not made things and try to steal this beauty instead of reflecting it are foolish and have cut themselves off from what makes them valuable. Simply grow, bloom, and humbly show yourself as the flower you are meant to be, our Father will do the rest."
So, without rebuttal (who can argue wth a flower), I endeavor to enjoy the beauty that God has placed in nature, in the people I meet, and the people He has placed me with; while happily reflecting the unique beauty that He would like to share through me to those He wants me to touch.
I think that is a life worth living!
(Ref: Matthew 6:28-29, Romans 8:21-23, Ezekiel 31:9-10, 16-17, Luke 12:25)
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