"The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair" (a.k.a. illogical, irrational, foolish and idiotic by human standards, ununderstandable, I don't get it).
That's been a favorite Relient K lyric of mine for years, but it had extra meaning to me this past Saturday. I was driving back to Baltimore after spending a few Thanksgiving days with family in Virginia. Virginia with family and friends is a place where I feel comfortable. I’ve been me there and I’m alright with it. Baltimore is a new place, a challenging place, and I constantly find myself questioning who I am here. During my latest 3 hour transitional drive I heard this Relient K lyric once again.
Recently I've been wrestling with myself and my faith. I'm a T (thinker) rather than an F (feeler) according to the free Myers Briggs personality tests I took online. As such, I have an incessant need to rationalize and think my way through everything. This shows up mainly in table games, Minesweeper, and my need to observe new groups of people so that I can figure them out before I join in. Unfortunately, I've also realized lately that it stretches to my faith as well. It means if my mind can't make sense of something then it's awfully hard for me to believe it.
Essentially this boils down to a very shallow faith. As much as I enjoy the vast depth of a human brain, let’s be honest, its capabilities are nothing compared with the mystery of God. If I always have to understand something to believe it, then I’ll never fully believe anything about God. My brother’s story of dumb lambs feels especially true here. It’s like sheep trying to understand the method of the shepherd. If I were a sheep I’d strain my brain trying to grasp the shepherd’s instructions and then starve out of stubbornness.
Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” I’d add “what we do not understand” as well. I want real faith.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Cursed by a Blessing
“Is it a gift? As painful as it is, it is still a blessing, God? How many times have I called journalling my greatest blessing and greatest curse? My journalling defines me. It’s who I am. It dictates my emotions and spirituality and relationships. It is my past and my present, and I’m so attached that it will be my future too. I could use my current anguish as a reason to stop journalling, but I can’t bear that thought! That literally might kill me because I am my journalling. It’s my greatest curse and my greatest blessing.”
~~May 13, 2010
Memories are fantastic! Some of the greatest times in life are sitting with a group of people and reminiscing about a shared past. Or getting together to do something that we all know we’ll never forget. Those instances get the “timeless” label. They are beautiful, peaceful, divine.
But memories, or forgetting them, can serve as coping mechanisms. It’s said that time heals all wounds. I’d argue the point, but there is truth the phrase. Over time humans learn to diminish memories that were bad and augment good ones. It’s how we can survive each day and not be chained to past choices. Regrets exist, but they can be downplayed over time.
I have the unique opportunity to not forget my past. It’s not that I have a super memory or anything. It’s just that I’m willfully addicted to journalling. Every day I write down truth about my life. And every day I can choose to go back and read about the truth of my life. Sometimes it allows me to celebrate a great day from my past! Then journalling is my greatest blessing. Other times it reminds me of a mistake I’d like to take back. Then journalling is my greatest curse. Always it points out the faults in my memory. But, it’s who I am. I can accept that.
~~May 13, 2010
Memories are fantastic! Some of the greatest times in life are sitting with a group of people and reminiscing about a shared past. Or getting together to do something that we all know we’ll never forget. Those instances get the “timeless” label. They are beautiful, peaceful, divine.
But memories, or forgetting them, can serve as coping mechanisms. It’s said that time heals all wounds. I’d argue the point, but there is truth the phrase. Over time humans learn to diminish memories that were bad and augment good ones. It’s how we can survive each day and not be chained to past choices. Regrets exist, but they can be downplayed over time.
I have the unique opportunity to not forget my past. It’s not that I have a super memory or anything. It’s just that I’m willfully addicted to journalling. Every day I write down truth about my life. And every day I can choose to go back and read about the truth of my life. Sometimes it allows me to celebrate a great day from my past! Then journalling is my greatest blessing. Other times it reminds me of a mistake I’d like to take back. Then journalling is my greatest curse. Always it points out the faults in my memory. But, it’s who I am. I can accept that.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Reality Check
I just heard on the news that 6 people were shot and 1 person was stabbed within the last 48 hours in Baltimore City. These were 7 isolated incidences. So much violence in such a short span of time is unusual, but not all that unbelievable here in Baltimore. This story came after 2 other stories about murders in Baltimore within the last week and before stories of a house fire and a person who was hospitalized with glass in their eye after their car window was shot, probably by a bb gun.
I suppose someone could react to this and say they must take all possible actions to prevent these atrocities. I react more selfishly though. If life is so fragile, if life can be so short, then how should I be living now? I’m not afraid to die, but I am afraid to waste the time that I have left.
I call myself a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ. With my mouth I claim to follow Jesus and strive to be an imitator of his life and teachings. That’s how I want to live with the time I have left. That’s the secret to not wasting the time we’ve all been given. It’s an easy answer to reach yet its meaning leaves me with such anguish! How does one live as an imitator of Christ? What does that look like?
As possible answers to these questions come pouring into my mind I’m hit by a deeper and darker question: Am I really a Christian? My life doesn’t often look like Jesus’. If I can’t live what I claim to believe, then do I really believe it?
In John 8 Jesus is talking with a group of Jews. In verse 39 they claim that Abraham is their father. They are proud of their lineage, their history, their ancestor. They happily boast in their connection to such a man of God, but Jesus won’t accept it. He tells them that they cannot be children of Abraham because they don’t do what Abraham did. Abraham would have never sought to kill a man who speaks the truth from God as they are doing.
Jesus is speaking to me too. I happily boast in my relationship with Jesus, in my Christianity, but how can I claim that if my life doesn’t live it? I know I can never fully replicate Jesus’ love or peace or sacrifice in my life, but can’t I at least love like Jesus a little bit? Can’t I at least stand a little apart from the rest of the world in peace? Can’t I live and serve and sacrifice a bit of my time for the sake of others?
Yeah, I think I can. And perhaps it must start small; after all, my time left on earth may be small.
I suppose someone could react to this and say they must take all possible actions to prevent these atrocities. I react more selfishly though. If life is so fragile, if life can be so short, then how should I be living now? I’m not afraid to die, but I am afraid to waste the time that I have left.
I call myself a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ. With my mouth I claim to follow Jesus and strive to be an imitator of his life and teachings. That’s how I want to live with the time I have left. That’s the secret to not wasting the time we’ve all been given. It’s an easy answer to reach yet its meaning leaves me with such anguish! How does one live as an imitator of Christ? What does that look like?
As possible answers to these questions come pouring into my mind I’m hit by a deeper and darker question: Am I really a Christian? My life doesn’t often look like Jesus’. If I can’t live what I claim to believe, then do I really believe it?
In John 8 Jesus is talking with a group of Jews. In verse 39 they claim that Abraham is their father. They are proud of their lineage, their history, their ancestor. They happily boast in their connection to such a man of God, but Jesus won’t accept it. He tells them that they cannot be children of Abraham because they don’t do what Abraham did. Abraham would have never sought to kill a man who speaks the truth from God as they are doing.
Jesus is speaking to me too. I happily boast in my relationship with Jesus, in my Christianity, but how can I claim that if my life doesn’t live it? I know I can never fully replicate Jesus’ love or peace or sacrifice in my life, but can’t I at least love like Jesus a little bit? Can’t I at least stand a little apart from the rest of the world in peace? Can’t I live and serve and sacrifice a bit of my time for the sake of others?
Yeah, I think I can. And perhaps it must start small; after all, my time left on earth may be small.
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