The stories of my faith tell of many men and women who stood before the "face of God". Not just in front of Jesus, who, being truly human would normally just appear human, but before the Father himself, maybe even the entire trinity. Elijah, Moses, the disciples to whom Jesus revealed his true self during the transfiguration, all of these stood face to face with God himself. And we often think that if we could have such an experience, then maybe our faith wouldn't be so hard. It would be so much easier to believe in God if he were standing (or floating or whatever) right there, right?
This is a challenging time in my life. After losing my job and my home at the same time, my family and I have moved into the home of a gracious and generous family in our church. The house is plenty big enough for both of our families--would we choose to use the back door instead of the front we would never even have to see them. But we do use the front door and for various other reasons (for instance we do not have an oven of our own or even all of our dishes), we share both of our spaces to a limited extent.
For the most part, this setup is working just fine. But one of the main areas of tension always brewing just under the surface is over cleanliness. Now, I have never thought of my family as being dirty. We have four small children and tend to leave a lot of clutter around, we never take the time to organize toys that are just going to be dumped out and stirred up again the next day and often just getting out the door is much more important to us than making sure the last of the peanut butter and jelly is removed from the table (or couch or wherever it was smeared). Our host family, on the other hand is amazingly tidy and clean. It is almost to the point where there is rarely any evidence that they live upstairs at all if they are not actually present. They make dinner without a mess. They eat dinner without a mess. They free play all over the house without a mess. They too have small children. They are never messy. I have decided to just leave the dirt on my two year old's face just so people will recognize him because it is rarely not there. Their children sometimes have frizzy hair.
I am continually in awe of this. And, because in my new life situation I am now the stay-at-home parent, I am seriously intimidated. The other day, my host found a roach in their area of the house. The same plea was repeated. "Please please watch the food and be careful". Now I know that roaches are just a fact of life and do not necessarily indicate filth. Honestly I don't even know if it was a roach at all (as an outdoor education instructor for fifteen years, you must earn a certain level of respect from me before I believe you saw anything in particular beyond the standard pets). But the shame hit me hard. I remembered that they had walked through our area earlier that day as I napped on the couch, the table littered with the sticky remains of the PB&J my children had just slaughtered and consumed. How lazy and disgusting must I have appeared?
It gets worse though. Because in my attempt to relieve my shame, I begin thinking of all the ways our family is in fact superior to theirs. And then I realized that not only am I a slob, but I am also a judgemental, arrogant (and let's be honest a little lazy) slob. And I just want to crawl into a hole.
Which brings me back to my original (and somewhat aprupt) introduction. If this is how I feel in the presence of someone who clearly has (at least part of) their life together far more than me, how would I feel before the face of God, the creator of said life? Those stories also speak of men falling down on their faces in the dirt, begging God to go away. People who got too close to him, too familiar, and would just drop dead. How can we not feel some level of fear before a God who is so Good, so Loving, we cannot stand it?
Maybe it is a great mercy that God hides himself from us. That we only experience him in measured doses: the kindness of a stranger or even worse, a friend; the beauty of a sunrise; the giggle of a little girl. I can barely stand it when my daughter smiles at me. My heart would surely explode were I to see the smile of God.
I have spent much of my life seeking after God. Desiring to know him more and more fully. But I have not spent nearly enough time working on my own self, practicing the kinds of things that would make me slightly less ashamed to stand before him. I know he loves me. But I think I am becoming more thankful that he reveals that love in measured doses. I do not think I could handle much more than I am getting right now. There is just too much peanut butter smeared into my beard.
8/11/17
1/20/17
Together
Yesterday, at break, one of my coworkers made a joke about something our new president had tweeted. Instantly my blood pressure rose and while I continued to banter along with him, I struggled to keep it civil. These days opinions are just as divided as ever, but there seems to be a greater chasm between them. What unites us appears to be less and less important this year as what divides us. And tensions are running high, as I can attest to personally.
This idea of how people get along when they believe very different things about how the world works is not a new subject to me. I grew up in a protestant church, so focusing on what divides us comes very naturally to me. Protestants have traditionally dealt with differing opinions in one of two ways.
First, they have taken the easiest route and simply left to form a new church. This is pretty much the way protestantism started actually. Martin Luther fought against very real abuses in the catholic church of his day. Eventually he gave up trying to change the church from the inside and left it entirely, forming his own church to stand in contrast to it. His example was followed by many others: Calvin, Zwingli and it seems like every protestant name you'd recognize since then. I believe I heard recently there were over 2,500 different protestant denominations in the world today. And considering how many opinions even the least opinionated of us have, I imagine that number will continue to grow.
What is sad about this state of things is that the only unity a church has is only temporary. It can honestly be said that the only reason they exist is because they haven't yet figured out why they shouldn't. Is this really the way humanity was meant to function? This fracturing of society on the basis of opinion can be seen in our politics, or neighborhoods, even our families. There are clear lines drawn in the sand and if I happen to share a space with someone that's only because we have't yet gotten around to dragging our stick between us.
The second option seems better. There is a movement in protestantism towards more unity. Maybe its not new, I've only recently become aware of it. Unity is important--so important that we should pursue it whether we agree or not. In a recent conversation with a friend, he told me that he is fine if his pastor follows a different theological path than this own as long as it lines up for the most part. He knows what he knows and he is willing to accept that others may not be as far along the path as he is. And so, in "love", he accepts his less "immature" brother, hoping that one day he'll agree with him.
This isn't just my friend. Whole denominations have been built on this premise. And in the short term it works pretty well. Maybe some of those "immature" people even end up changing their minds and coming around to someone else's version of truth. But in reality the only way this can work is if everyone just stops talking about anything of any importance at all.
In Orthodoxy, which I will admit I am a part of so I may have some bias, they have a different approach to unity. The Unity of Acceptance and Tolerance looks to them like a whitewashed tomb. It is pretty on the outside. But in the heart, from which all things flow, there is pride and arrogance. In the Orthodox approach, unity begins and ends with humility. What I think about anything is not as important as what we think about anything. The rule of thumb is "all believers, everywhere and at all times". When it comes to theology, nobody gets to be creative, at least not outside the bounds of tradition. I am right to say that I live 2,000 years after Christ, I know him only through what has been taught to me by my church and what I read in scriptures written in a different language and culture than my own. And so my opinion does not actually carry a lot of weight.
As an American, that is a painful thought to bear, at least at first. We are taught from birth that our opinion about everything IS everything. I was asking my baby boy what he wanted to wear as soon as he was able to gesture towards one shirt or another. Why? Can it be possible that his thoughts about what onesie to put on that day has any bearing on what he actually should put on? Can my opinions about the deep things of God be any different?
Unity isn't a pipe dream. It is real and it is achievable. But it is also costly. It will cost every one of us our very lives. It is not an easy thing to consider another's point of view. It is risky. They may actually be right. Which would make me wrong. It would make me the less "mature" one. Maybe maturity isn't about being correct as much as it is being humble. Maybe unity isn't as much about not-fighting as much as it is about submitting. Maybe what our country needs from its churches is an example of actual unity. Of loving submission and care. Of humility.
For my part I will continue to say "I don't know" to nearly every political thought thrown at me. I will continue to play devil's advocate and stand up for the side that isn't present to defend themselves. And that's hard because I really do have an opinion and I really do think I'm more mature than you. But I also know that that kind of thinking isn't going to get us anywhere. And so I shall submit as best I can in the name of love. It is the only thing I can think of that will save us.
This idea of how people get along when they believe very different things about how the world works is not a new subject to me. I grew up in a protestant church, so focusing on what divides us comes very naturally to me. Protestants have traditionally dealt with differing opinions in one of two ways.
First, they have taken the easiest route and simply left to form a new church. This is pretty much the way protestantism started actually. Martin Luther fought against very real abuses in the catholic church of his day. Eventually he gave up trying to change the church from the inside and left it entirely, forming his own church to stand in contrast to it. His example was followed by many others: Calvin, Zwingli and it seems like every protestant name you'd recognize since then. I believe I heard recently there were over 2,500 different protestant denominations in the world today. And considering how many opinions even the least opinionated of us have, I imagine that number will continue to grow.
What is sad about this state of things is that the only unity a church has is only temporary. It can honestly be said that the only reason they exist is because they haven't yet figured out why they shouldn't. Is this really the way humanity was meant to function? This fracturing of society on the basis of opinion can be seen in our politics, or neighborhoods, even our families. There are clear lines drawn in the sand and if I happen to share a space with someone that's only because we have't yet gotten around to dragging our stick between us.
The second option seems better. There is a movement in protestantism towards more unity. Maybe its not new, I've only recently become aware of it. Unity is important--so important that we should pursue it whether we agree or not. In a recent conversation with a friend, he told me that he is fine if his pastor follows a different theological path than this own as long as it lines up for the most part. He knows what he knows and he is willing to accept that others may not be as far along the path as he is. And so, in "love", he accepts his less "immature" brother, hoping that one day he'll agree with him.
This isn't just my friend. Whole denominations have been built on this premise. And in the short term it works pretty well. Maybe some of those "immature" people even end up changing their minds and coming around to someone else's version of truth. But in reality the only way this can work is if everyone just stops talking about anything of any importance at all.
In Orthodoxy, which I will admit I am a part of so I may have some bias, they have a different approach to unity. The Unity of Acceptance and Tolerance looks to them like a whitewashed tomb. It is pretty on the outside. But in the heart, from which all things flow, there is pride and arrogance. In the Orthodox approach, unity begins and ends with humility. What I think about anything is not as important as what we think about anything. The rule of thumb is "all believers, everywhere and at all times". When it comes to theology, nobody gets to be creative, at least not outside the bounds of tradition. I am right to say that I live 2,000 years after Christ, I know him only through what has been taught to me by my church and what I read in scriptures written in a different language and culture than my own. And so my opinion does not actually carry a lot of weight.
As an American, that is a painful thought to bear, at least at first. We are taught from birth that our opinion about everything IS everything. I was asking my baby boy what he wanted to wear as soon as he was able to gesture towards one shirt or another. Why? Can it be possible that his thoughts about what onesie to put on that day has any bearing on what he actually should put on? Can my opinions about the deep things of God be any different?
Unity isn't a pipe dream. It is real and it is achievable. But it is also costly. It will cost every one of us our very lives. It is not an easy thing to consider another's point of view. It is risky. They may actually be right. Which would make me wrong. It would make me the less "mature" one. Maybe maturity isn't about being correct as much as it is being humble. Maybe unity isn't as much about not-fighting as much as it is about submitting. Maybe what our country needs from its churches is an example of actual unity. Of loving submission and care. Of humility.
For my part I will continue to say "I don't know" to nearly every political thought thrown at me. I will continue to play devil's advocate and stand up for the side that isn't present to defend themselves. And that's hard because I really do have an opinion and I really do think I'm more mature than you. But I also know that that kind of thinking isn't going to get us anywhere. And so I shall submit as best I can in the name of love. It is the only thing I can think of that will save us.
5/12/16
Deer Paths
I am very tired tonight as I write this. Not sleepy, per se, but that deep weariness in your chest tired. The kind of tired you can push through, but only with a lot of sighing and occasionally staring off into the distance. There is rest in the near future. I can see it on the horizon. But for now I must push on.
It was a long day at work. And I have been doing push ups and pull ups, so that would explain why it feels so good to take deep breaths, to stretch out my chest. And of course I have 4 kids under 5 and a wife that is just as exhausted as I am by the end of the day. And there are so many dishes. And toys. And why does it take so long for kids to put on underwear?
As I was wondering what to write about tonight, it occurred to me that this deep down tired is something I have been feeling on a spiritual level as well. Spiritually tired.
I have always been interested in God. And I think I have always had a picture of what God needed to be if he was to be true. He must be loving. He must be good. If he was neither of these things, then even if he was real he was not someone I wanted to worship or even appease. And so as I learned more of my faith, the various approaches to it, the various argued doctrines and practices, I would try one and then the other, picking and choosing as I went.
I went for a hike by myself one time while camping with some friends. It was supposedly an established trail, but at some point I lost the trail and found myself following what was probably just a deer path. Instead of turning around though, I looked at my map and decided that I could probably just keep going and eventually run into where the trail should be. As I wandered the forest, I could see landmarks in the distance that helped me orient, I could see the lay of the land and compare it to the map on my phone, and above all, I just had this deep "feeling" that I was going the right way. This went on for about an hour as I climbed higher into the mountain. I would follow one deer path, then another that would fizzle out. Then I would backtrack a bit and keep going. Eventually I found myself in an open part of the forest on an unexpectedly flat ridge and thought maybe I had made a bad decision to keep going. I was just following animal paths, for crying out loud! And animals rarely care to go the same places I do. Just as I was considering giving up and turning around, I saw an actual deer trotting across my path up ahead. I stood still and he had nearly passed me when he realized I was standing there. And then he bolted. I jogged forward to watch him bound away and suddenly realized that while I had been following the paths of his people, he had been following the paths of mine. The trail had appeared out of nowhere and I immediatly knew where I was.
This is a great metaphor for my spiritual life so far. I knew where I was going. I had the landmarks of scripture and the good examples of the men and women I respected to follow. But I still just didn't know where I was. In the end, no matter how good I was at orienteering, no matter what my dying phone was telling me, I had never been to that forest before and I had NOTHING to tell me if I was on the right track. I mean, people did tell me I was on the right track. Or they argued that their track was better. But they were just as lost in that forest as I was. They had no more credentials, no more authority that I had. So where the hell was I? And where was that F'ing trail?
The problem with Protestant Christianity lies in the fact that they fought the wrong battle. In their desire to free themselves from the corruption of the Catholic Church, they decided that the only real authority they needed in their lives was the Scripture. Which would be fine if the Scripture was written for that purpose. But it is not. Rarely does it answer directly the question we want answers to. If we want to know about things like the Trinity, a foundational Christian doctrine, we must piece it together from random indirect references to it in books and letters that really aren't talking about it.
The battle was never about the authority of scripture. In fact, the Catholics themselves recognize that scripture is authoritative. Everyone does, actually. Scripture is the one thing we can point to outside of ourselves to give credence to whatever we're saying. The authority of scripture just isn't in question. Its the interpretation of it that is. Protestants claim that every person has the ability to read scripture and determine the Truth about God. They are constantly claiming things are "scriptural" and "Bible Based" as if their opinions about what the scriptures say is completley obvious. But its not obvious. That's why none of us agree with each other. We all read the same scripture and either copy what someone else says or come up with our own ideas. Solo Scriptura doesn't work. No matter how strongly I feel about whatever deer path I'm on, I don't know any more than any other bloke lost in the woods where it goes.
And then I found Orthodoxy. They have a Tradition of interpretation that can be traced back to the disciples of the disciples of Jesus himself. And there's the real revelation. Jesus says that to know the Father you must know him. He is the full revelation of God. Scripture, written by other people about Jesus may be very informative, but it is the person of Jesus who fully reveals who God is. And to think that I, 2,000 years later would be able to understand the person of Jesus better than anyone who came before me, even those who sat at his feet as children, that's the kind of arrogance that gets you really lost on the wrong side of the mountain. That's when I realized I was so tired. Tired of having to be right. Tired of realizing I was wrong and I needed to come up with a new way of seeing things. Tired of pretending like I had any idea where I was. I needed to see that the whole time I was following that deer path, the deer were following the actual trail. I thought I could get myself out of the woods, but what I needed to do all along was just look up and see the actual deer with enough humility to follow.
I am ready to submit to a Tradition. I am ready to say that maybe I don't know it all and can't figure it out all on my own. I am thankful that Jesus did not reveal God to his disciples and then leave the rest of us hanging, desperatly clawing meaning out of whatever scraps are left two centuries later. I am ready to admit that I'm lost and I need some guidance on where the trail is. I am ready to get out of these woods.
It was a long day at work. And I have been doing push ups and pull ups, so that would explain why it feels so good to take deep breaths, to stretch out my chest. And of course I have 4 kids under 5 and a wife that is just as exhausted as I am by the end of the day. And there are so many dishes. And toys. And why does it take so long for kids to put on underwear?
As I was wondering what to write about tonight, it occurred to me that this deep down tired is something I have been feeling on a spiritual level as well. Spiritually tired.
I have always been interested in God. And I think I have always had a picture of what God needed to be if he was to be true. He must be loving. He must be good. If he was neither of these things, then even if he was real he was not someone I wanted to worship or even appease. And so as I learned more of my faith, the various approaches to it, the various argued doctrines and practices, I would try one and then the other, picking and choosing as I went.
I went for a hike by myself one time while camping with some friends. It was supposedly an established trail, but at some point I lost the trail and found myself following what was probably just a deer path. Instead of turning around though, I looked at my map and decided that I could probably just keep going and eventually run into where the trail should be. As I wandered the forest, I could see landmarks in the distance that helped me orient, I could see the lay of the land and compare it to the map on my phone, and above all, I just had this deep "feeling" that I was going the right way. This went on for about an hour as I climbed higher into the mountain. I would follow one deer path, then another that would fizzle out. Then I would backtrack a bit and keep going. Eventually I found myself in an open part of the forest on an unexpectedly flat ridge and thought maybe I had made a bad decision to keep going. I was just following animal paths, for crying out loud! And animals rarely care to go the same places I do. Just as I was considering giving up and turning around, I saw an actual deer trotting across my path up ahead. I stood still and he had nearly passed me when he realized I was standing there. And then he bolted. I jogged forward to watch him bound away and suddenly realized that while I had been following the paths of his people, he had been following the paths of mine. The trail had appeared out of nowhere and I immediatly knew where I was.
This is a great metaphor for my spiritual life so far. I knew where I was going. I had the landmarks of scripture and the good examples of the men and women I respected to follow. But I still just didn't know where I was. In the end, no matter how good I was at orienteering, no matter what my dying phone was telling me, I had never been to that forest before and I had NOTHING to tell me if I was on the right track. I mean, people did tell me I was on the right track. Or they argued that their track was better. But they were just as lost in that forest as I was. They had no more credentials, no more authority that I had. So where the hell was I? And where was that F'ing trail?
The problem with Protestant Christianity lies in the fact that they fought the wrong battle. In their desire to free themselves from the corruption of the Catholic Church, they decided that the only real authority they needed in their lives was the Scripture. Which would be fine if the Scripture was written for that purpose. But it is not. Rarely does it answer directly the question we want answers to. If we want to know about things like the Trinity, a foundational Christian doctrine, we must piece it together from random indirect references to it in books and letters that really aren't talking about it.
The battle was never about the authority of scripture. In fact, the Catholics themselves recognize that scripture is authoritative. Everyone does, actually. Scripture is the one thing we can point to outside of ourselves to give credence to whatever we're saying. The authority of scripture just isn't in question. Its the interpretation of it that is. Protestants claim that every person has the ability to read scripture and determine the Truth about God. They are constantly claiming things are "scriptural" and "Bible Based" as if their opinions about what the scriptures say is completley obvious. But its not obvious. That's why none of us agree with each other. We all read the same scripture and either copy what someone else says or come up with our own ideas. Solo Scriptura doesn't work. No matter how strongly I feel about whatever deer path I'm on, I don't know any more than any other bloke lost in the woods where it goes.
And then I found Orthodoxy. They have a Tradition of interpretation that can be traced back to the disciples of the disciples of Jesus himself. And there's the real revelation. Jesus says that to know the Father you must know him. He is the full revelation of God. Scripture, written by other people about Jesus may be very informative, but it is the person of Jesus who fully reveals who God is. And to think that I, 2,000 years later would be able to understand the person of Jesus better than anyone who came before me, even those who sat at his feet as children, that's the kind of arrogance that gets you really lost on the wrong side of the mountain. That's when I realized I was so tired. Tired of having to be right. Tired of realizing I was wrong and I needed to come up with a new way of seeing things. Tired of pretending like I had any idea where I was. I needed to see that the whole time I was following that deer path, the deer were following the actual trail. I thought I could get myself out of the woods, but what I needed to do all along was just look up and see the actual deer with enough humility to follow.
I am ready to submit to a Tradition. I am ready to say that maybe I don't know it all and can't figure it out all on my own. I am thankful that Jesus did not reveal God to his disciples and then leave the rest of us hanging, desperatly clawing meaning out of whatever scraps are left two centuries later. I am ready to admit that I'm lost and I need some guidance on where the trail is. I am ready to get out of these woods.
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