all that is beautiful

One of my favourite Canadian artists/poets/activists (Steve Bell), in describing his musical interests and influences, recently talked about how xian art/music/hymnology has often ‘spoon-fed people doctrines’. The xian tradition has often emphasized (in its art/music) doctrinal clarity and trying to get people to understand…leaving ‘no room for discernment, because we have the truth’; as an alternative, Steve called for the obscuring of the truth in poetry.

I remember wondering what exactly he meant. And then I was reminded of another thought I came across: that beauty exists in this world for no other reason than astonishment and nourishment. So I started thinking about whether our community’s art, music, and poetry invokes awe, or whether we use what should be beautiful to be functional. Shouldn’t our theology be marked by our efforts to describe divine beauty? Wouldn’t it be more effective if our faith commitments astonished and ‘fed’ us?

What I think such questions acknowledge is the notion that theology (literally, the study of God or his nature) should be less systematic and far more poetic. What if our response to the world’s questions about God and his existence looked less like ‘explanations’ or defences and more like poetry, song, or ‘sketch’? There is part of me that feels that we would be better off if we stopped clamouring for answers and did our best to hint at the beauty that He is. Like now…at Advent, when we should be overwhelmed by nothing more (or less) than the fact that “God is with us”.

Our theology should be attuned to the beauty that is in Christ, and then reflected in His world. I get the sense that we too often turn to theology…to truth…to ‘what is right’ for its function. What if, instead, we measured our theology by its capacity to astound us? Couldn’t it be argued that a theology that isn’t captivating isn’t worth entertaining?

Example? What if we looked at the words of Jesus less as formulas or tools, and more like brightness and beauty revealed? What if we looked at His name less as an incantation necessary at the end of our prayers…and more as beauty described?

He is the Way. Many of us make a point of emphasizing the exclusivity and the wayness of Jesus’ life. But what about just dwelling on the fact that there IS a way? What about standing in awe of God’s provision of light through His Son? What about quietly weeping over (tears come now) our incredible blessedness at being some of those who KNOW the way?

Theology that is systematic has a way of turning our Scriptures and spirituality (in fact, all that is life giving) into equations. And equations are only functional (in mathematics) when they are balanced…when they provide clear answers…when they are perfect. The problem is that life doesn’t always ‘balance’…and that may be why our theology often doesn’t connect with real life, and why it often doesn’t resonate in our hearts.

Am I the only one that finds our ‘explanations’ wanting from time to time? What if we chose to describe Him as we know Him TODAY? For me, that would be beautiful…and it would be enough.

not-yet

There are some days when I feel as though there is a pressure just under my skin. Some days it feels like an artist’s impulse…and many times I can’t put my finger on it. There are all kinds of things that spark this feeling, but after 31 yrs I’m still trying to figure out what it means…how to respond…how to tap in and pour out.
I’m reading RT Kendall on ‘anointing’ right now, so that’s got me thinking. He talks about how our personal anointing flows in the areas of life that we engage and do without fatigue. To which I respond: what about all the people who talk about how often we must do the 80% of life that is monotonous and annoying so that we can engage the 20% that makes us come alive? Is a life of anointing really stress free? I’m just a tad skeptical.
Consider Mike Rowe and his stimulating talk (http://www.ted.com/talks/mike_rowe_celebrates_dirty_jobs.html) on how our society has declared war on hard work. Is this life really all about ‘following our dreams’? Is 'anointing' all about tapping into some hidden spring of creative genius/bliss? Have we unconsciously coddled a spirituality that says that a life demanding hard work, inspiring doubt-filled moments, and stretching us beyond where it hurts is void of anointing? What if my anointing is this pressure under my skin…this holy compulsion I sense…an ever-present and never-fulfilled hunger sparked by His Spirit to keep me moving?
I get the sense that my dreams are often God’s way of forming holy discontent in my life. Dreams are from the worlds of not-yet and oh-how-i-long. My dreams and anointing and divine compulsion and gifting and imaginations are all like winds that blow. Sometimes I capture them with the ‘sails’ of my life, and hurtle into those moments of vibrancy, passion, and engagement that I wish I could bottle up and down later on. But sometimes those winds are like a storm. They swirl, buffet and bluster…leaving me cold-faced, numb and disoriented. Sometimes it feels like there is no wind…and I nearly die of spiritual thirst in the doldrums of my life-journey. And other times the winds whisper…I feel their inklings…the sails stir…but I feel that I ‘miss’ them by not responding quickly/rightly.
There isn’t a lesson in all these thoughts so much as a conclusion that I MUST always remember that I am in transit. In them is the reminder that on the vast ‘ocean’ of my life, currents and winds are conjured and directed by One who is greater.
And…
wind or not, I ache to sail…to explore…to see…to crest a wave and discover new lands. This morning, I’m driven by dreams of not-yet…

the great pretend

i have been reading scripture differently lately. Sort of losing myself in it. An immersion of sorts. What I have found has been quite overwhelming. This scandalous redemptive mystery of the Gospel is a mysterious journey of discovery. It is not an embedding process where we insert ourselves into the organizational life of a church. It IS an immersion; something that saturates EVERY moment and part of life. I find it inspiring that with nothing more than the offer of come 'Follow Me', the disciples dropped everything and walked with Jesus into this Life.

When we choose this kind of journey with HIM, He cuts us loose. Outside all borders, boundaries, and barriers...outside of our constructed comfort zones and fears. It is out in the wild with Him we come to discover that the Kingdom of God is an uncivilized place, or as Erwin McManus writes, its a 'barbarian way'. To often communities of faith struggle to make themselves 'culturally relevant' and in so doing continue to tangle themselves up in a civilized world.

There is no redemption in cultural relevance. What we need is a wild, inherently courageous and uncivilized guide. We need to recognize Jesus walking toward us, beckoning us 'to follow' Him into a world that longs in ignorance for Him.

The Kingdom of God is not a low risk blue chip investment created by the brokers of religion for consumption; an attempt to make life better or for retirement plan at a tropical resort. It can't be calmly considered, and casually digested. THIS Kingdom can not be domesticated, it can't be franchised and placed along side the other proprietors of religious goods. The King of this Kingdom can't be restrained, leashed or muzzled from His continuous challenge of our selfish way of life. He is not willing to settle for less than us being who He made us to be, which often comes at the cost of what we THINK He made us to be(but thats another conversation...).

He is a seeker. A hound, dont be offended by the picture of it. Yes, a hound, on the scent, seeking us out with incredible ferocity.

Have we sanitized Jesus, making him a spiritual guru of sorts selling a success dream? Does He come rather tamely, in a three piece suit, or as cool hipster...to tidy up a few bad habits, make us better people, more prosperous, more cool...sending us back into the world grateful for the self-help? Really? Seriously? Is that the extent of this message of hope?

I think in lots of ways, we have. And this is not the Jesus of scripture. Where the true Lord Jesus is, everything changes. Think of the words: transformed. freedom. redeemed. united. hope. life. alive. force. faith. These are words that hold power and birth movements of change. Isn't it interesting that we have had some level of success at fitting 'christianity' into our culture but trying to fit Him and His way into our normal rhythms of life is like trying to push a camel through the eye of a needle. hmmm, have read that somewhere. It don't work. Or if it does, its really really messy. He doesn't fit into anything that was, He makes all things new. And He does it at the cost of we may see as 'my precious'. And often when 'my precious' is killing me. Maybe thats why we opt for the religion over the person...hmmmm.

The reality is I think we've all caught glimpses of the Kingdom of God, this Kingdom of Jesus. And often it goes unrecognized because it is outside our comfort zones, beyond the barbed wire, warning tape, in the messy places, outside the black and white lines into which we've etched our theologies. You see, out there beyond the walls, its unsettling. Life is not in our control. We miss the 'coming of the Kingdom' because its difficult to understand what's going on. But if we would look but for a minute our hearts would awaken in ways we have secretly longed for. We would discover something so scandalously redemptive that it would shatter our way of life and change our world.

It would be like a man who has discovered a treasure in the midst of the brokenness of life. His shovel digs into the pavement of life and strikes something solid, glittering...it mezzmerizes him. He will sell everything, sell his entire life to have this treasure. He will liquidate all his life's assets just for this treasure. wow. Am I like he? hmmm...heard that somewhere before too.
There is nothing wrong with church, and for the record I am convinced that the big C Church is the hope of the world. BUT often we're in danger of going to church, reading the bible, singing songs, saying prayers, doing good deeds, being baptized, having communion so much so that we risk not making the great discovery. Maybe, we have to look beyond the building we erroneously call church so that we can be startled by discovery.

Discovery?

Uh huh. A discovery that buildings and forms matter not one whit. Its the Kingdom that lies within us that holds such incredible power. We need to stop allowing the gathering place, the building we go to, the church place we tend to hide in, to be an excuse to live the great pretend.

WHAT? yes, the great pretend. Like you don't know what's going on. Like you don't know you have a destiny, a role to play in the PLAN of the King. Like you don't really know there is more than you could possibly imagine for the one who chooses to ask, to knock, to seek...to lay it all on the line for This King.

Listen closely...have you heard the clink of the blade of the shovel against the glittering treasure? Have you?

If you have...oooo...well now the stakes are higher for you. And maybe thats why you are so miserable...because, it's redemptive beauty will haunt you...cuz you have a sense of it's worth, an idea of it's power to transform everything it touches.

Hearts.

Imaginations.

Passions.

Dreams.

The world.

A whole being...ignited by the dream of His Presence here...and the Kingdom of God made known.

oooo, I have a dream.
pj

blessings.

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression and exploitation of people
So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace

May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy

May God bless you with foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor

A Franciscan Benediction

afraid of the dark

I don't know if you ever did it.

Coming upstairs from the basement in your house as a kid. All the lights are off in the basement. You are walking up the stairs...

and all of a sudden an incredible urge deep within your guts compels you to run as FAST as you possibly can up the stairs. Of course, as a kid, admitting that in person to anyone or possibly breaking into a sprint/roller-derby session when anyone else is with you would be considered very uncool. But when you are alone? RUUUNNNNN!

What I find worthy of reflection is that I still get that feeling as an adult.

My adult expectation was that this fear would fade or disappear! It was supposed to be part of the result of a mystical or esoteric realization that the darkness is actually not something to be feared, but it can even be embraced. There is nothing better than blacking out all the shades of the bedroom of your home or during a hotel stay. My 9 year old daughter even sometimes wears those airplane eye cover thingy's(dont know what they are really called) to sleep! In thick darkness you sleep until no more sleep seems possible.

Today I realized that I’m still afraid of the dark. A lot of us are.

We struggle with needing to be recognized, feeling significant and wondering if the glow of the spotlight will hit us. For many, our roles or calling in life has led to places where the light shines brightly. In many cases, perhaps too bright. As someone who has a small amount of notoriety and is sometimes recognized by people in public places, I realize the light is a dangerous side effect of serving in places of influence and/or being a person who is “seen”. As someone who literally stands, “in the light” on a regular basis, I know that light can be addictive and dangerous.

The light lies.

I constantly wrestle with my fear of the dark. Do people know who I am? What if I somehow become irrelevant?
The voice inside my head can whisper thoughts that breeds insecurity and over-confidence. Insecurity that forgets that He journeys with me, that this is all about Him, and that His love envelopes me whether I’m known by anyone. Over-confidence that places trust in my own decisions, abilities, leadership, giftings, and charisma.

I am not alone.

Francis Chan suddenly resigned his church early last year. Part of the reason behind his decision was summed up in the following interview with CNN:
“When there is a large constituency, there’s a lot of voices,” he said. “It makes you arrogant or it makes you want to shoot yourself. When thousands of people tell you what they think, how can I be quick to listen, like the Bible says? I don’t want to be a jerk and tune everyone out. At the same time you, can’t love every single person and answer them.”
So after lots of prayer and soul searching, Chan decided it was best to leave the church, country, and Internet behind to focus on serving others one-on-one.

I was watching a news clip today regarding Ted Haggard. His much publicized “issues” stripped him of the spotlight he had been living in as a pastor of a large church in Colorado and leader of a large Christian organization. The darkness was a necessary place for him. It was where God can lead him to re-discover the truth about himself without the limelight. It must have been a scary place for him to be.

He has slowly begun to emerge. I have watched and reflected as he appears on talk shows and then obligatory book tour that followed.

Was the light was shouting out to him? Did he miss it?

Now he is doing his own reality show. I do not know him. I have never had coffee with him. But I wonder if some part of him, like it would me, is shouting for the lumens to be increased and cranked up brighter. “I’m over here”.

Could it be that Ted is still afraid of the dark? I know that sometimes I am. When I am around people I feel have 'done it' or 'accomplished something'...that nasty desire to do something that will make me known uncurls in my guts and I don't want to be left in the dark any longer.

Can't you see me?

hmmm. reminds me of the emporer with no clothes...cuz really, thats what we all end up being when our drivenness for the 'light' calls us out of the darkness before He has said, "Let there be light". And then what are we left with? A laughing crowd who has noticed how unattractively naked we are.

Our fear of being in the dark, when not dealt with, spawns a need for the light. A craving for the light. A yearning. But by always standing in the light, we miss what God wants to teach us in the obscurity of the darkness.

There is an alternative of course. You see He hovers over the darkness...waiting to speak His word. Waiting to create the new and the incredible. Worlds of beauty within our hearts. But of course, we know better...the darkness is bad...right?

I love Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of Jesus’ words in Matt. 5:16:
“Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to BE LIGHT, bringing out the God-colors in the world.”

I know what you are thinking. What about 1 John 1:7 says, 'But if we walk in the light...'

Well I have a thought about that. Read the rest of the verse. Thats right. "...as He is in the light we HAVE fellowship with one another and the blood of Jesus purifies us from all sin."

How often do we walk in the light, but NOT as He is in the light and as a result we don't know how to fellowship and we fail to deal with sin. And we are left bereft of power and hungering for something we do not have. How many of us medicate this hunger by allowing the light of recognition to numb our longing for wholeness?

Have we got it backwards? Cuz His intention is that light emanates FROM US, not shines ON US.

And when it does, the world is a more colorful place.

Are you afraid of the dark? Don't worry. I am sure someone will be willing to leave the night light on for you.
J

in Flanders Fields...

In Flanders fields where poppies blow,
Between the crosses, row on row...

We have men and woman who have sacrificed for the cause of freedom in our family.
Great Grandpa Chase - a veteran of WW1. My side. Lost most of his ability to talk due to the effects of mustard gas.
Grandpa Mcleod - a veteran of WW2. My side. A navigator on the wellington bombers.
Grandpa Moe - Trace's side. A veteran of WW2. Spent time as a POW in the pacific war theater.

That mark our place: and in the sky the larks still bravely singing, fly
scarce heard amid the guns below...

I am an old man compared to the youth they gambled with when they headed to war.

We are the dead. Short days ago we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
loved and were loved and now we lie,
In Flanders fields...

I would have loved to have talked to them as young men. To look in their eyes. To probe the young passion and understand their courage and character. To romp and roll, as young men are apt to do, before the years and pain steal the joy of a hope-filled tomorrow.
What was the world they dreamt of? What was the future they lived for? What was the tomorrow they sacrificed for?

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw the torch: be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields...

What would they say to me now? What battlefield would they call me to? What life would they beckon me to live?

Courage.
Faith.
Hope.
Sacrifice.
Love.

Let me live. And fully live. That my life would honour the seeds sown,
in Flanders fields...

Places

we're moving. sigh. tomorrow this time the movers will pack our collection of things...and the truck will roll east.
moving tends to stir up the deepest and most intrinsic emotions we have...i think. i stumbled across this reality when i took our kids to one of our favorite parks yesterday. don't know if this has ever happened to you...but as we walked up to the playground my eyes welled with tears.
i recognize that i feel deeeeeeeeeep attachment to places...for whatever reason. actually...i know that i'm attached to squint lake (and its winding, tree-shaded paths) because i've spent many a restful morning/afternoon here with my kids.
in fact, squint lake is one of the first places Hayley and i discovered together in our initial weeks in Burnaby.
and so...yesterday i said goodbye to a park. sigh...but i also said goodbye to my 'little Hayley'...and the memories of my toddler tumbling down the slide.
here's to the path (and places) ahead...