Some time ago, I caught a show on the Discovery Channel entitled, "Life After People." It started, I think, as a one-time documentary on what would become of the world if/when humans were removed from the equation. Using a combination of known examples of decay and computer generations, the documentary revealed the startling power of nature to reclaim order. Given enough time, nothing is permanent.
Curiously, some of the early casualties are the very things that we might imagine to be most lasting. Buildings, roads, bridges... Known monuments such as the Eiffel Tower or the Golden Gate Bridge break down within the first century. Information on CD or DVD is lost faster than ancient etchings on clay. Concrete does better but plastic and stainless steel are the true survivors and gold.
The documentary was so successful that there are now mini-versions. The follow-up series takes a more in depth look at specific areas and how these will decay. What is interesting in these subsequent stories is the inclusion of real places that are already going through this... once thriving people-infested environments that have since been abandoned. Some of these sites are truly shocking. Within just twenty years, forests and swamps have returned. In certain environments, roads, playgrounds and even buildings have been vanquished. It appears that, given time, everything becomes dust and compost.
I am curious about the popularity of the series. Are we fascinated with the technology involved--seeing entire cities laid-waste through computer modeling? Are we simply dumbfounded by the prospect of a human-less world? Are we struck by the relatively short and ultimately vain nature of the human reign on earth? Or do we find a strange comfort in all this--an ironic peace in the revelation that we are not really the deal.
I must admit that I sometimes feel this way. I find a strange comfort in the fact that at some point I will be recycled in one way or another. Part of this is the weight of 45 years of inflicting myself on the planet. At some point, I will not be able to cause any more damage than I already have.
I realize that this sounds environmentally melodramatic and probably self-loathing. But this is not really what I mean. Of course, we all do some good and we all do some ill. We all make some kind of footprint and all that... I get that and, as humans, we have to sort of learn to live with that. But at the same time, I like the idea of whatever ill that I have done not being permanent. I like the starting over factor--not only for whatever lies ahead for my spirit but for everything else as well. I also think that at some point (although hopefully not any time soon), the earth would do well to reorder itself after the impact of billions of others who are probably a lot like me.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Eye Strain
I am not seeing very well this morning. Actually I have not seen well for a few days now. Yesterday, I broke down and went to the doctor and I am currently being treated for conjunctivitis so I hope that in a day or so, I will be back on track. But while it lasts, I am trying to pay attention.
I have often had the notion that God works through the uncommon periods in our lives. Perhaps God is trying to teach us something specific or perhaps God is using the experience to give us a broader view of the world or the faith. I learned to do this during a rather long stretch of dental problems during my senior year in high school. There was a period when I had something like 3 root canals in a period of a few months. I spent hours on end with my mouth stretched open to its limit. I learned to anticipate the various sounds when the dentist changed the drills and files toward the finishing process. I had to find a way to distract myself from the process so I started imaging that this was my penance. I figured that I probably deserved the discomfort in one way or another and because it wouldn't last forever, this actually helped. It was almost like a prided myself on how much I could take. Perhaps you are hearing masochistic overtones here but I assure you that is not it. I did not enjoy the dental work at all. I simply figured out a way to get through it. In a way, I learned to make the suffering work for me. Specifically, it made me stronger--more able to get through uncomfortable and inconvenient times...
Now the eye thing here has been different. The main thing is that it has been much more indeterminate. I don't know that it will be over in the next hour and a half and this has been frustrating. So the lesson here has been harder to appreciate because it is not merely about patience or endurance. The biggest challenge that I have noticed is eye strain. I cannot look at a computer screen or watch tv for more than about a minute a time. The light sensitivity is brutal and my eyes tear almost constantly. These are annoying symptoms for someone who's work depends largely on looking at people, paper and light of one kind or another. Even as I am writing this entry, I have had to take a number of breaks.
The fact that it has been hard to look at things has been a strange experience. It is not that I can't see so much as it just hurts to see. It's made me think a little about folks whose eyes hurt just from seeing the world around them. And maybe that's the lesson this time. Most of the time, I enjoy what I see but maybe that's because I only look in certain directions. Feeling the discomfort in my own vision the last few days, makes me wonder about folks whose eyes must be really tired.
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears
Without crying;
Now I want to understand.
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good
Without hiding;
You must help me if you can . . .
Doctor, my eyes—
Tell me what is wrong!
Was I unwise
To leave them open for so long?
'Cause I have wandered through this world
And, as each moment has unfurled,
I've been waiting
To awaken from these dreams.
People go just where they will;
I never noticed them until
I got this feeling
That it's later than it seems . . .
Doctor, my eyes—
Tell me what you see.
I hear their cries . . .
Just say if it's too late for me.
Doctor, my eyes
Cannot see the sky—
Is this the price for having learned how not to cry?
[Jackson Brown, "Doctor My Eyes"]
I have often had the notion that God works through the uncommon periods in our lives. Perhaps God is trying to teach us something specific or perhaps God is using the experience to give us a broader view of the world or the faith. I learned to do this during a rather long stretch of dental problems during my senior year in high school. There was a period when I had something like 3 root canals in a period of a few months. I spent hours on end with my mouth stretched open to its limit. I learned to anticipate the various sounds when the dentist changed the drills and files toward the finishing process. I had to find a way to distract myself from the process so I started imaging that this was my penance. I figured that I probably deserved the discomfort in one way or another and because it wouldn't last forever, this actually helped. It was almost like a prided myself on how much I could take. Perhaps you are hearing masochistic overtones here but I assure you that is not it. I did not enjoy the dental work at all. I simply figured out a way to get through it. In a way, I learned to make the suffering work for me. Specifically, it made me stronger--more able to get through uncomfortable and inconvenient times...
Now the eye thing here has been different. The main thing is that it has been much more indeterminate. I don't know that it will be over in the next hour and a half and this has been frustrating. So the lesson here has been harder to appreciate because it is not merely about patience or endurance. The biggest challenge that I have noticed is eye strain. I cannot look at a computer screen or watch tv for more than about a minute a time. The light sensitivity is brutal and my eyes tear almost constantly. These are annoying symptoms for someone who's work depends largely on looking at people, paper and light of one kind or another. Even as I am writing this entry, I have had to take a number of breaks.
The fact that it has been hard to look at things has been a strange experience. It is not that I can't see so much as it just hurts to see. It's made me think a little about folks whose eyes hurt just from seeing the world around them. And maybe that's the lesson this time. Most of the time, I enjoy what I see but maybe that's because I only look in certain directions. Feeling the discomfort in my own vision the last few days, makes me wonder about folks whose eyes must be really tired.
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears
Without crying;
Now I want to understand.
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good
Without hiding;
You must help me if you can . . .
Doctor, my eyes—
Tell me what is wrong!
Was I unwise
To leave them open for so long?
'Cause I have wandered through this world
And, as each moment has unfurled,
I've been waiting
To awaken from these dreams.
People go just where they will;
I never noticed them until
I got this feeling
That it's later than it seems . . .
Doctor, my eyes—
Tell me what you see.
I hear their cries . . .
Just say if it's too late for me.
Doctor, my eyes
Cannot see the sky—
Is this the price for having learned how not to cry?
[Jackson Brown, "Doctor My Eyes"]
Monday, February 8, 2010
Time and Treasure
Yesterday I had the opportunity to help out in one of the adult Sunday School classes that gathers here at the Portico. They had been studying a book entitled, The Treasure Principle. The chapter dealt generally with Jesus' admonition in Matthew 6:
‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also..'
The class had no problem with the basic premise. We all seemed to understand that life is fleeting and unpredictable. These are people who are conscientious about their faith so I hadn't really been asked to help them swallow the sometimes large pill of Christian giving. What I had been asked to address was something else that the author seemed to be saying--namely, that God is keeping some kind of score in all of this. The writer suggested that every good deed (and we assume every wicked one as well) is tallied in some great ledger in order to be summed, balanced and pronouced on the day of reckoning.
As I prepared for the class, I was a bit surprised by the book. Not by the argument so much but the motivation. I was curious as to why someone would write a book on this topic. To the point, Jesus does make reference to God's watchful eye, especially in terms of how we live and how we treat our families, neighbors and enemies. But to suggest that God is some kind of Great Accountant is a bit of a stretch, at least in terms of the overall picture. The message of the Gospel is especially about God's remarkable concern and devotion to a people who are often uninterested and largely uncapable of returning that concern and devotion. Most of the class, myself included, were not too excited about the idea that God might be keeping some kind of score. Yet, it ocurred to me that we are certainly facinated with keeping score everywhere else. Jobs, houses, kids, spouses... How much here... How well there... Did you meet the quota... Did I get the bonus... Where are they sending junior to school...
And this was probably the answer to my curiosity about the author's motivation. He was, perhaps, looking around at the quasi-Christian world around him and wondering about our motivation. That is, what (or who) are we doing this all for? It would appear that we are frantically working on some kind of tally-sheet. So what exactly is it that we are trying to win? Who exactly are we trying to win over? Or, as the writer seemed to be saying, "if we insist on working to some kind of scoreboard, let's at least make it the right one... In the end of the day, the only one you're really going to have to impress is God.
O.K., I can see that. I still don't like the idea of God keeping score. Mostly because I sense that sincere spirituality is motivated by something more than rewards and punishments. Nevertheless, I can appreciate the writer's point. Because the fact is we do sometimes look a little like rats in a laboratory--running whatever maze it is that leads to the sugar water. And frankly, most of the rewards out there are nothing more than that. Of course, in the moment, it seems otherwise. But when we've only got 60, 70, 80 years to live, stuff and pats-on-the-head are really not much of a prize.
In this way, eternity gives us a priceless perspective. Jesus suggests that whatever it is that we do, we need to keep in mind the end toward which it is given. Whether it be time, resources or energy, we spend it toward some end. And if what we have is finite (as in 100 years or less), then it makes sense to spend it wisely... toward an end that has some staying power. Or as Jesus' puts it, 'store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal.'
Jesus concludes this sentence by adding, 'For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also..' This is where Jesus has my atttention in regard to this whole treasure business. I have little understanding and appreciation for keeping score and building up treasure but I do understand and appreciate passion. One way to look at 60, 70, or 80 years is to see how short this time really is! But another way to look at it is that we really do have something here! What an opportunity! To have the chance to live in this world and to do something with your life... Why would you want to waste something like that on mazes and sugar water?
This, it seems to me, is the real motivation for living a good life. Jesus suggests that whatever it is that we turn our eyes upon, wherever it is that we go and however it is that we spend our time, energy and resources... these are the things that reveal our hearts. This is how we identify what matters to us... This alone should clear our minds to think bigger than sugar water! Look around at the wonder and the beauty of Creation... Behold the blessing and the mystery of family and friendship... See the power of the human mind and its capacity to create and work for good in the world... Then ask yourself if you really want your life to be defined by a job or a house or even a degree.
Of course, we want to finish this thing well. Of course, we want God to pat us on the head when it is all said and done. But what will this mean if we have not lived a passionate life? What good is a bunch of tally marks if they refer to something less than a fully engaged and courageously spent life?
‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also..'
The class had no problem with the basic premise. We all seemed to understand that life is fleeting and unpredictable. These are people who are conscientious about their faith so I hadn't really been asked to help them swallow the sometimes large pill of Christian giving. What I had been asked to address was something else that the author seemed to be saying--namely, that God is keeping some kind of score in all of this. The writer suggested that every good deed (and we assume every wicked one as well) is tallied in some great ledger in order to be summed, balanced and pronouced on the day of reckoning.
As I prepared for the class, I was a bit surprised by the book. Not by the argument so much but the motivation. I was curious as to why someone would write a book on this topic. To the point, Jesus does make reference to God's watchful eye, especially in terms of how we live and how we treat our families, neighbors and enemies. But to suggest that God is some kind of Great Accountant is a bit of a stretch, at least in terms of the overall picture. The message of the Gospel is especially about God's remarkable concern and devotion to a people who are often uninterested and largely uncapable of returning that concern and devotion. Most of the class, myself included, were not too excited about the idea that God might be keeping some kind of score. Yet, it ocurred to me that we are certainly facinated with keeping score everywhere else. Jobs, houses, kids, spouses... How much here... How well there... Did you meet the quota... Did I get the bonus... Where are they sending junior to school...
And this was probably the answer to my curiosity about the author's motivation. He was, perhaps, looking around at the quasi-Christian world around him and wondering about our motivation. That is, what (or who) are we doing this all for? It would appear that we are frantically working on some kind of tally-sheet. So what exactly is it that we are trying to win? Who exactly are we trying to win over? Or, as the writer seemed to be saying, "if we insist on working to some kind of scoreboard, let's at least make it the right one... In the end of the day, the only one you're really going to have to impress is God.
O.K., I can see that. I still don't like the idea of God keeping score. Mostly because I sense that sincere spirituality is motivated by something more than rewards and punishments. Nevertheless, I can appreciate the writer's point. Because the fact is we do sometimes look a little like rats in a laboratory--running whatever maze it is that leads to the sugar water. And frankly, most of the rewards out there are nothing more than that. Of course, in the moment, it seems otherwise. But when we've only got 60, 70, 80 years to live, stuff and pats-on-the-head are really not much of a prize.
In this way, eternity gives us a priceless perspective. Jesus suggests that whatever it is that we do, we need to keep in mind the end toward which it is given. Whether it be time, resources or energy, we spend it toward some end. And if what we have is finite (as in 100 years or less), then it makes sense to spend it wisely... toward an end that has some staying power. Or as Jesus' puts it, 'store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal.'
Jesus concludes this sentence by adding, 'For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also..' This is where Jesus has my atttention in regard to this whole treasure business. I have little understanding and appreciation for keeping score and building up treasure but I do understand and appreciate passion. One way to look at 60, 70, or 80 years is to see how short this time really is! But another way to look at it is that we really do have something here! What an opportunity! To have the chance to live in this world and to do something with your life... Why would you want to waste something like that on mazes and sugar water?
This, it seems to me, is the real motivation for living a good life. Jesus suggests that whatever it is that we turn our eyes upon, wherever it is that we go and however it is that we spend our time, energy and resources... these are the things that reveal our hearts. This is how we identify what matters to us... This alone should clear our minds to think bigger than sugar water! Look around at the wonder and the beauty of Creation... Behold the blessing and the mystery of family and friendship... See the power of the human mind and its capacity to create and work for good in the world... Then ask yourself if you really want your life to be defined by a job or a house or even a degree.
Of course, we want to finish this thing well. Of course, we want God to pat us on the head when it is all said and done. But what will this mean if we have not lived a passionate life? What good is a bunch of tally marks if they refer to something less than a fully engaged and courageously spent life?
Monday, February 1, 2010
Coming to Jesus
Every thought that I repent
there's another chip you havent spent
and you're cashing them all in
where do we begin
to get clean again
I wanna know, can we get clean again...
("God of Wine" Third Eye Blind)
Sometimes it feels like we just can't get a break. There is just not enough time or not enough day or not enough opportunity or not enough patience or love or whatever. We find ourselves under a gun of some kind. We begin to rethink the steps and realize that of all the possible explanations for the trouble, this is most likely a place that we have brought ourselves to--perhaps even driven ourselves to.
This, of course, is the beginning of a good sermon or a good self-help book. Good success stories always start at the bottom--or at least get there soon enough. They are then followed by that all imporant moment of taking personal responsibility. In the days of Christian Revivals, this was called confession. I had a friend who used to call it the come to Jesus moment.
Char was a pastor that I knew back in Iowa. Her name was actually "Charlotte" but she was no Charlotte. She was just Char or Pastor Char--and it should have been pronouced "ch" as in charred steak or charred remains. Because that is generally how you felt after she got done speaking to you.
We all knew that Char was German. She had to be because whenever my colleagues and I would gather at her house for a minister's meeting, she would be cooking up some obscure German dish--you know, the kind tht you set on the stove at 6am and then eat sometime in the middle of afternoon. What is that Rabbit? She didn't really look German though or at least not only German. She really seemed more Celtic--not in the sentimental way but more in the uncivilized, we eat our own young, sort of way. She had sandy-red hair and she was huge. She was physical and intimidating. I once challenged her in a room full of colleagues and she literally pushed me into the next room where she proceeded to give me one of her legendary come to Jesus lectures. For Char, coming to Jesus pretty much meant having your @$$ kicked. It was a ministry to which she seemed uniquely called and genuinely qualified. However, on this particular occasion, I am pretty sure she was wrong so it turned out to be the beginning of the end of any respect I might have had for this particularly German-Celtic bully.
We typically do not need someone else to help us come to Jesus. The arrival generally coincides with our readiness. We've usually worn out every possible alternative. We're usually pretty alone and desperate. And frankly, we don't need someone else telling us all the things that we have done wrong because chances are we've been reliving them over and over again in our minds. It seems to me that when it comes to keeping track of our own sins and failures, most of us are more than capable accountants--especially when we're nearing the bottom of the latest hole in our lives.
So to all the Char's out there... thanks but no thanks. We've got this. Most of us are beating ourselves up plenty well here without your help. If all you've got for us is self-righteous torment, save it. But if you know someone who might actually help, you can send them... That's what I thought.
Right? Because that is the nature of this thing. We call it "the pit" precisely because the point is to sort of not fall into it. Therefore there aren't lots of people in here with us and no one really jumps in on purpose. Well almost no one...
That's the real come to Jesus moment isn't it? It is accepting that even thought we are the person most responsible for the current situation, we are, nevertheless, not likely to be the person to resolve it, at least not alone. BTW, this is also familiar fodder for sermons and self-help books. And there is good reason for this but it can be deceptive.
You see, just because you think you've heard something before doesn't necessarily mean that you understand it. And there is no understanding something like a pit until you find yourself in one. People can talk about the saving power of Jesus all day long but until you need it, it really isn't going to make much of an impact. In the same way, people can tell you how much you need Jesus or how much Jesus is there for you but it's just noise until you actually see him there with you in that pit.
The Church teaches us that the Lord actually dove headlong--not only into this world, but indeed into the pit of all pits. This is that strange part of the historic Creed that claims Jesus actually "descended into Hell." We usually read this part with a bit of confusion and awkward trepidation. But there are times when such a claim has unique meaning for us... For those of us who have found the bottom, it is not simply about coming to Jesus. It is about Jesus coming to us.
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom. 8:38-39)
there's another chip you havent spent
and you're cashing them all in
where do we begin
to get clean again
I wanna know, can we get clean again...
("God of Wine" Third Eye Blind)
Sometimes it feels like we just can't get a break. There is just not enough time or not enough day or not enough opportunity or not enough patience or love or whatever. We find ourselves under a gun of some kind. We begin to rethink the steps and realize that of all the possible explanations for the trouble, this is most likely a place that we have brought ourselves to--perhaps even driven ourselves to.
This, of course, is the beginning of a good sermon or a good self-help book. Good success stories always start at the bottom--or at least get there soon enough. They are then followed by that all imporant moment of taking personal responsibility. In the days of Christian Revivals, this was called confession. I had a friend who used to call it the come to Jesus moment.
Char was a pastor that I knew back in Iowa. Her name was actually "Charlotte" but she was no Charlotte. She was just Char or Pastor Char--and it should have been pronouced "ch" as in charred steak or charred remains. Because that is generally how you felt after she got done speaking to you.
We all knew that Char was German. She had to be because whenever my colleagues and I would gather at her house for a minister's meeting, she would be cooking up some obscure German dish--you know, the kind tht you set on the stove at 6am and then eat sometime in the middle of afternoon. What is that Rabbit? She didn't really look German though or at least not only German. She really seemed more Celtic--not in the sentimental way but more in the uncivilized, we eat our own young, sort of way. She had sandy-red hair and she was huge. She was physical and intimidating. I once challenged her in a room full of colleagues and she literally pushed me into the next room where she proceeded to give me one of her legendary come to Jesus lectures. For Char, coming to Jesus pretty much meant having your @$$ kicked. It was a ministry to which she seemed uniquely called and genuinely qualified. However, on this particular occasion, I am pretty sure she was wrong so it turned out to be the beginning of the end of any respect I might have had for this particularly German-Celtic bully.
We typically do not need someone else to help us come to Jesus. The arrival generally coincides with our readiness. We've usually worn out every possible alternative. We're usually pretty alone and desperate. And frankly, we don't need someone else telling us all the things that we have done wrong because chances are we've been reliving them over and over again in our minds. It seems to me that when it comes to keeping track of our own sins and failures, most of us are more than capable accountants--especially when we're nearing the bottom of the latest hole in our lives.
So to all the Char's out there... thanks but no thanks. We've got this. Most of us are beating ourselves up plenty well here without your help. If all you've got for us is self-righteous torment, save it. But if you know someone who might actually help, you can send them... That's what I thought.
Right? Because that is the nature of this thing. We call it "the pit" precisely because the point is to sort of not fall into it. Therefore there aren't lots of people in here with us and no one really jumps in on purpose. Well almost no one...
That's the real come to Jesus moment isn't it? It is accepting that even thought we are the person most responsible for the current situation, we are, nevertheless, not likely to be the person to resolve it, at least not alone. BTW, this is also familiar fodder for sermons and self-help books. And there is good reason for this but it can be deceptive.
You see, just because you think you've heard something before doesn't necessarily mean that you understand it. And there is no understanding something like a pit until you find yourself in one. People can talk about the saving power of Jesus all day long but until you need it, it really isn't going to make much of an impact. In the same way, people can tell you how much you need Jesus or how much Jesus is there for you but it's just noise until you actually see him there with you in that pit.
The Church teaches us that the Lord actually dove headlong--not only into this world, but indeed into the pit of all pits. This is that strange part of the historic Creed that claims Jesus actually "descended into Hell." We usually read this part with a bit of confusion and awkward trepidation. But there are times when such a claim has unique meaning for us... For those of us who have found the bottom, it is not simply about coming to Jesus. It is about Jesus coming to us.
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom. 8:38-39)
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