Life, God, and the Little Things - Part 2

Let’s fast forward a few months.  The nutshell of the months between January – April were essentially a monotonous routine.  Get up, go to work, come home.  Get up, go to church, come home.  All the while, my wife (rightfully so) continuously brought up the desire for children and my consent to try.  There were days when my responses could have been kinder.  But, she is a strong and forgiving woman.   I am so honored to have her as my wife.

My only solace was in my weekends when I could use my writing or games to escape my reality.  I had resigned to my imprisonment.  I think the phrase, “creep along,” would adequately describe my progression to anything.  Every day it was the same old thing.  I was getting further and further behind on my payments for loans until I reached the point that I couldn’t pay them anymore.  My car had broken down with Sam and I working conflicting schedules (we ended up having to borrow a church member’s vehicle).  Funnily enough, I did get it fixed and it broke down on our way up to Ohio two months later.  That’s another story though.

In April, things were beginning to look better.  My old position at work had opened up and the CEO gave me a call and invited me back.  This was the beginning of resolution to a lot of my issues.  While where I was working at the time had a lot of room for potential growth, there was no growth happening and so I ended up jumping on the offer and gradually worked my way into the customer service position that I am part of today.  During this time I also had a friend move in as a house mate until he could find a job in the Birmingham area.  He’s currently still looking.

Within all that chaos of life, I still found myself completely dead to anything related to religion or Christianity.  I was numb.  I didn’t feel anything, even when playing music where I normally would feel alive.  I felt dead to the world.

At this time I was also dealing with an incredible fear.  One that some of you will relate to, and some may think is utterly ridiculous; a fear of death.  A fear, so intense at times, that I was just shy of a full on panic attack or mental breakdown.  Every night the thought would cross my mind and I felt myself feeling sick.  It was a crippling fear.  And on top of that I was afraid to reveal this fear to others.  I was irrationally afraid that people would look down on me in some way, like I was weak or stupid for having such a fear.

That is until I just sort of blurted it out on the trip coming back from Ohio and no one flinched (except me, in expectation of worse).  Since then the fear has subsided, for the most part.  Occasionally it still haunts me, but every time it is significantly less. 

Which is crazy right?  If I am a Christian, shouldn’t I have no fear of death because of the promise of “eternal life”? 

Maybe, but I think if we are all a little more honest with ourselves, we all go through a point where we deal with it.  I think a more accurate metaphor might be that we are all on a plane ride that we know is going to crash at some point.  We don’t when or where, but we do know one thing.  We have a parachute we can use when that happens, and we cling to it so tightly that our knuckles turn white.  Because we know that while it is still going to be a terrifying experience, it is our salvation from a gruesome death.

And I guess that really sums up what I’m driving at with these posts.  An explanation to what I’ve been working through and why I identify myself as Christian.

The thing is, science is great.  It has taught the human race so many things, and I think it’s great for understanding the physical world around us.  It gives us the facts, the logic, the reason.  And generally, it is unbiased in its conclusions.  That is its purpose.

But

I think we forget how important the heart is too.  In our society, Logic and Reason have become the masters.  It’s about the numbers, the facts, the hard tangible evidence.  But it is only one half of the coin.  Our intuition, instincts, and perceptions are just as valid and important.  That gut feeling when you know something is wrong and you turn out to be right.  There was no logical connection but the connection was there nonetheless.  I’m not even talking about our emotions, though they play a role.  The heart plays a role in understanding anything.

Example:  World War II

Factually, we know that it involved most of the countries in the world dividing into two alliances.  We know that roughly 75 million people lost their lives in that war for various reasons directly connected to it.  We know that Hitler was a key figure. But that doesn’t explain what it felt like to experience it.  It’s just the head knowledge.

A gentleman tells you about D-Day.  He explains his fear, the adrenaline rush he feels, the chaos, the horrors.  He explains everything with great detail on the experience.  And you can relate, because you’ve felt shadows of those emotions.  It is a story that connects with your heart.  It’s the heart knowledge.

On their own, the two are good, but when you put them together you get a much more holistic understanding of the event that was World War II.

Simple, I know, but I think it conveys what I’m trying to say well enough.

It is with this heart and head combo that I try to make every decision.  Because sometimes it is better to have mercy, and other times it is better to show none.  Because not everything can be seen with the naked eye, and sometimes you have to read between the lines.

In that pursuit, at this time I’ve concluded God must exist.  Others will conclude that he doesn’t and they are allowed to believe that just as I am entitled to my own beliefs.  But since this is my blog, you are getting my perspective.  Because sometimes it really is the little things that can bring about a whole new understanding.

In this past year, though, I have seen too much to suggest otherwise.  The impeccable timing, the peace when there should be none, among other things.

As a conclusion, I think C.S. Lewis wrote it best when he wrote The Silver Chair:

“One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one more thing to be said, even so. 

Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. 

So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say.”
 

― C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair

Grace and Peace

Story of Life

Everyone wants to be part of a story.  At least, that is what I have concluded.  This thought came about on my way to work this past Tuesday as I let my mind wander (as I tend to do on my way to and from work).  In all honesty, I don't know many people who would say they would rather live a boring uneventful life.  How many of you men pretended to be the hero when you were younger?  How many of you women played house or some other form thereof? How often did you rope your boy friends into playing it with you? 

I think the reason for this is because we want to be a part of the story.  There is something exciting about facing adversity (such as an imaginary dragon) and overcoming it (especially if it involves some makeshift weapon). There is something enticing about adventure. There is also something incredibly significant about feeling important and cherished.  This, I believe, is true for all people and not just men or women.  The fact of the matter is that sometimes, ultimately, we want to be the rescuer, and sometimes we want to be the rescued.  After all, it makes for some of the best stories right?  People do not always have to be physically rescued either, sometimes the emotional rescue is just as satisfying (I site the standard 'chick-flick' in this case; the woman is rescued from her terrible circumstances [usually] by some buff and incredibly romantic dude that [sometimes literally] sweeps the woman off her feet).  While I like a good mushy movie from time to time, I have to admit that oftentimes that genre can cause a perverse desire for the impossible.  Let's face it ladies, there is no way you will ever find that perfect guy.  He doesn't exist.  Those movies pervert the excitement of story that we want to be a part of.  Action films are no different, so we are not exempt from the desire of the impossible either.  I think this might be why I, and many people I know, love the movies that hit close to home and feel "real"; or are blatantly different (such as fantasy or animated) because we know it could never really be, so it is just a "nice story".

The thing about story though, is it is full of conflict.  How many people would read a book if all the character did was the same thing he did every day?  No adventure, no excitement, just routine. How boring would that be?  You see my point.  Story has to have a conflict, or the character never grows, and if the character doesn't grow what is the point?  Are we really all that different?  Who does not want to improve an aspect about themselves?  Who does not want to be a part of something that is life and maybe world changing? I know I do, I could give a list of the aspects I would like to improve in myself, and of course I want to constantly be a part of something that is bigger than me.  I want to be a Hero! But, to be a hero, I also need to be rescued.  Rescued from what though? 

Now we are getting to the heart of it.

Every Protagonist has a starting point to their story.  It is an understood concept that the main character(s) of any story had a "life" before the story and will have continued "life" after the story ends.  After all, life is a series of stories skillfully woven together.  Well, the starting point for so many involves a rescue of some sort.  Sometimes it is a literal rescue from a prison, sometimes it is a rescue from mundane, sometimes it is a rescue from themselves, and the list goes on.  How often is the protagonist (and us too really) rescued from something so that they might "live to fight another day"?  That day of course arrives only after time spent in conflict and growth.  After all, you can't overcome any problem if you don't grow, and you can't grow without the experience of the adversity that you are trying to overcome.  This is why, as much as I dislike hard times, I have at least some appreciation for them.  The truth is that the things that tend to cause the most pain in my life are the very things that spur me to become a better man, husband, brother, son, and friend.

Every conflict is a battle, every resolution a victory or defeat, every victory or defeat is a learning experience, and every experience acts as a catalyst to the next cycle of growth. 

Naturally, I wonder how the the concept of story that I love so much, applies to my life.  As I look I can see different conflicts that have brought out a warrior in me in just the past year alone, so then I wondered where did the rescue come from, and I realized that, it came from a sacrifice that happened a couple thousand years ago.

I have made no efforts to hide that I call myself a Christian, and have out-rightly claimed it often, so it should come as no surprise that I would find my rescue in the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ.  But it is true, since Christ captured and romanced my heart I have found a purpose to fight, a reason and cause worth dying for.  I hope it is plain to see that I am not happy with the way many people who claim to be Christian have treated others, but I also cannot deny the changes that have happened in my life due to the freedom from salvation, from being rescued from my sins, my worries, and even my anger (to name a few).  It is also Christ who has mentored me into the man I need to be, that I want to be, because it is who I am.  He is making me a Hero.

Today is Good Friday.  Despite calling it that, it is one of the saddest days in history when you think about what is celebrated in the Christian circles: The Crucifixion of Christ.  The reason it is a good Friday then, is because not only was the crucifixion necessary for salvation from sins, but also promises the resurrection which is celebrated on Easter Sunday.  The resurrection completes the story.  It is reason I can claim freedom.  If Christ did not rise from the grave, then freedom is non existent.  That's a strong claim though, so let me clarify by saying that I can only go off resurrection as I understand it now.  Who knows what revelations will be made in the future?

I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Grace and Peace.

The Gospel?

What is the Gospel? No, really, what is it?

Now that it’s been a few weeks since I read the book, The King Jesus Gospel by Scot McKnight and have had time to digest it more I think I can be ready to put up my thoughts here. So, back to my question: What is “The Gospel”?

Many Christians will tell you that the Gospel is that Jesus died on the cross to save you from your sins and eternal damnation in a fiery pit called Hell. While I believe that there is truth in it, I also believe that this statement is incredibly short sighted and largely misses the target.

Gospel is defined by many as meaning “good news”. What about the above statement is good news? Salvation, sure, but saved from what? Our sins? What does that even mean? What about Hell? You expect me to believe in some ultimate destiny that no one really cares to think about? Honestly, how often do you think to yourself, “When I die…”? I know I am often distracted by the present to think too deeply about an expected 50 years in my future. Obviously, not all of us alive today are going to live another 50+ years, but I think it’s safe to say that we all expect and hope to. So this good news often feels irrelevant to John Doe who works in a corporate office from 9-5, whose wife is threatening to divorce him, whose kids hate him, and whose dreams are slowly slipping away. John doesn’t need to be saved from death; if anything, death might feel like a relief. No John needs to be saved from fear, pain, worry, and despair. There is no better way to break a person’s soul than to make them fall into despair.

This is a little bit like where Israel was around the time Jesus showed up: Romans had taken over the government and frequently levied taxes on the people; Their deity, I Am, has become silent for over 400 years; the people they trust to direct them in the ways that honor their deity have become corrupt; and there is general unrest. You might even say that this was Israel’s form of The Great Depression. I do not know about you, but I can almost feel the darkness that surrounds this era of earth’s history. So many things go on in the shadows.

In comes Jesus, born of a virgin, Mary, and raised by an earthly father, a carpenter, Joseph. On the night of his birth an insane amount of Angels shout out in joy (and scare the crap out of the shepherds they are speaking to), there is excitement in the air (certainly wasn’t a “Silent Night”), and YET, this kid enters the world largely unnoticed, and would not really make a name for himself until he reached the age of 30 and began his ministry. For 3 years, Jesus develops a relationship with and intensely invests in 12 men, which we know as the 12 disciples. As a closure to this time spent with the 12 men and the crowds that followed to listen to his teaching, Jesus is accused of blasphemy (rightfully so according to the religious leaders at the time) because he did, after all, claim to be the Messiah and God Incarnate. The penalty for Blasphemy is death, but by this time the Jewish religious leaders were so angry they decided stoning was not good enough. The man needed to be crucified as the show of ultimate shame. Thus Jesus was killed, on all accounts blameless and sinless. The story doesn’t end there though, according to his followers, this man decided that he did not want to be dead any longer and revived on the third day. After spending a few more months with his disciples Jesus finally ascends into heaven and is never heard from again, or at least, not in the physical sense like he was for those 33 years.

A couple of decades later we have Jesus’ disciples writing about the events that happened in his life. These accounts are known as the Gospel. We have all heard the story, but have we all grasped the fullness of it. Looking at Matthew alone I find there are details that I often overlook; for instance, the constant use of numbers to emphasize a point. 12 disciples, 3 days, 5 loaves 2 fish (7), and on and on it goes. Each number means something to the Jewish reader; each one sticks out like a sore thumb.

All that to say, the Gospel is – so – much more than the story of the death and resurrection of a Jesus, Messiah. It is a completion of a story. It is the Resolution of a long history, and the beginning of a sequel. The story of Jesus is the story of God restoring Israel, and all of creation with her, to that has been longed for since the first sin of Adam and Eve. It is freedom. Freedom from legalistic law, freedom from the worries, stresses, and hopelessness experienced by people under the rule of a Roman Emperor, and freedom from themselves in some sense. No longer are they enslaved by the law, but freed by it. How many times did Jesus say something that had to do with life? Jesus’ death allowed for people everywhere to live. He was the “ultimate sacrifice” as I’ve heard it called sometimes. I tend to think of it as the ultimate communication.

“I love you, come be with me.”

And I think that is what he would want today as well. Yes, we are saved from a wretched existence, enslaved by the very things we often do not want to do. But even more importantly than that, we are given a freedom and a life that we can experience here, now, in the “today”. I believe that in the death and revival of Jesus, there is peace that can be found, and a relationship that can be established with a very real and involved deity that we simply call “God”.

I believe this for so many reasons both intellectual and intuitional. I would even argue to be a Christian you cannot have one without the other. And even if I’m wrong, to paraphrase Puddleglum in C.S. Lewis’ The Silver Chair, I would rather believe in a place that has peace, freedom, life, and emphasizes this concept of altruistic expression to others and to a creator being than in this hopeless place we are in now. I do not mean place in the physical sense (heaven, hell, or earth); I mean it in a status sense. I would rather follow a standard that tells me to make my current location as much heaven on earth as I can. To let people know that I love them, even if no one else will.

Now comes the temptation to trail off. So, I’ll be done.

Grace and Peace