God's furniture in the dark

I just finished reading about the life of Helen Keller. The dark silence was her suffocating enemy, and yet at the same time, her great clarifier. She had no distractions--only darkness blocking out any context. Fear, anger, craving, passion all swirled within her, but the darkness gave her focus.

There is an element of freedom in being blind to what lies ahead. We are ALL blind to what lies ahead; we just don't realize it until something unexpected happens, leaving us aware of our fragility. The vulnerability we feel in dark silence rouses our courage to move forward even when we can’t see what’s in front of us.

It reminds me of God’s call to Abram to leave home and go to "a land I will show you." Taking steps in the darkness is faith. The furniture of God’s dimension is all around us. We know it’s there because, like Helen Keller, we are constantly bumping into it, but taking the steps is still such a fearful thing. I can't see God--what if He's not who He says He is? Where is He leading me? I'm bruised from the collisions--"Why would a good God have put that in my way?! Why didn’t He take it out of my path, or at least guide me around it?"—but these things are proof of His existence, His ownership, and His goodness. We can't see the shapes and colors behind the dark or hear the other-dimensional melodies, but the obstacles He places in our path still teach us about Him. We bump into the furniture, grope for His hand, and feel the vibrations of His voice; we know He’s there.

Our darkness is our only opportunity to show Him we trust Him. When our eyes are opened we will see plainly, and then He will overwhelm us--there will be no faith, just seeing. I want a ferocious faith that takes steps in the dark and flings itself on His goodness. Everyone experiences darkness and silence, but knowing Him brings context to the darkness. Faith in His word and His character are our beacon of light. We do not stumble around in despair, but walk confidently in the light of hope, trusting Him in darkness or in light.

On Thanksgiving Day morning, my pastor Matt Chandler had a seizure and was rushed to the hospital where MRI and CT scans revealed a tumor in the right frontal lobe of his brain. Yesterday he was in surgery for seven hours and is recovering well so far--a great relief to the thousands who love him and have been posting encouragement, hope, and prayer on Facebook from all over the world.

I've thought a lot about death this week. And life. About what matters...and what doesn't. It turns out my list of what matters most goes far beyond important things like happiness and my family, as precious as they are. Watching Matt and his family walk this road has challenged me:

• to quit wasting time on things that don't matter
  
• to stare in the face of suffering and trust fiercely in God's goodness
• to stop coddling the part of me that wants my own way
• to continually persist in surrendering all I am, all I have, and all I want to God
• to let God's view of me shape my life, not that of culture or other people

We have fasted, prayed, and pleaded for Matt's life, but most of all we've flung ourselves in wonder on God's goodness and have been reminded that keeping our hands open to the Lord is the only way to peace and joy. Everything I am and everything I have belongs to God: my husband, my children, my friendships, my finances, my health--everything. It is His to do with what He will. I just want more of Him. And if suffering gets me more of Him, I will walk through it with joy. He is my great reward--not anything He gives, but He Himself.

Steve McCoy explains on his blog the "deep blessing of having our theology put to the test:"

"It reveals whether we truly believe God is in control. Whether our peace will come from laying our anxieties before him. Whether we believe our spouse is the treasure God intends. Whether God is truly a greater treasure for us than our spouse. It's God's mercy that we go through times where there is nothing to lean on but Him."

Thank you, God, for Your "deep blessings" that push us to long for You beyond our capacity. You heal us body and soul.

Thank you, Matt. You stir up my affection for Him even in your suffering. Praying constantly for your quick recovery. Come back to us soon. We love you more than you know.

small god

Your small god is made in our image
impotent
sympathetic
effeminate
surprised
disappointed

human

he is us.

We run in small-god circles
praising glimmers in each other
in ourselves
so we don’t have to look up
at the face
watching us.

pacifier idolatry

"Tomorrow night will be your first night as a REAL big boy!" I explained to Denton enthusiastically. "We're going to get rid of the pacifiers and you can go to sleep on your own, just like Creed does!"

"Okay, Mommy!" he agreed. "I want to be a big boy!"

Bedtime came and I had already removed the pacifiers to the top of the toy shelves. After several mournful attempts to get me to return the pacifiers (tearfully explaining that he didn't want to be a big boy after all; that he really needs the pacifiers; that he doesn't want to do this anymore; that he wants "the cool of the pacifier;" etc.) and several course corrections, he came sobbing to the door again:

"Mommy?"
"What."
"I just have to say one thing."
"What is it?"

(long pause)

"Uh...it's that I just really want my pacifier."
"Denton."
"What..."
"You already told me this and my answer was 'No.' My answer is still 'no' and it will always be 'no.'"
"Ugh! Mommy!! I don't want you to SAY this!!!"
"Close the door and go back to your bed."
"Mommy, I am still sad!"
"I know. You just have to be brave. I'm sorry it's so hard...but you can do it! When you wake up in the morning you won't be sad anymore."

After separating the boys, it only took a few moments for the house to settle into blissful silence--they had both gone to sleep. Little did I know this was because Denton had climbed up his bookcase and acquired the coveted item. When I checked on him before I turned in for the night, there he was--out cold...with a pacifier dangling from his mouth. Mommy had officially lost the battle, but the war was still on.

A couple of days later, I bought a computer game that Denton really wanted. We installed it "together" with great ceremony. Then after we'd filled in his name and prep'd for the first game, I said, "Now we're going to turn it off. But if you can show me that you're a big boy tonight by going to sleep without your pacifier, you can get up in the morning and play this game all by yourself!"

"But I want to play it NOW, Mommy!" he protested.

"I know. But I'm not sure you're big enough to do it yet. You need to show me that you're a big boy tonight and then I'll know you're big enough to play your own computer game."

"Okay, Mommy," he said. And with that, he ran to his room, grabbed his pacifier, and threw it in the bathroom trash can. (I fished it out and disposed of it behind the scenes so he couldn't retrieve it in a weak moment later on.) I braced myself for bedtime, when he would want it back. But bedtime came and went with no resistance, no struggle, and no complaining! He went right to sleep and woke up to a morning of gaming.

What happened?

Denton found something he wanted MORE. The promise of gaming was so motivating that letting go of the pacifier was worth it.

How like Denton I am as I cling to the "fruitless joys" in my life, unwilling to let go of them for more of God. My little boy showed me that when I won't let go of something, it's because I love it most. When I love God more, the pain of letting other things go is overshadowed by my longing for Him. Even the "good" things in my life become chains to spiritual infancy if I become too attached to them. They are substitutions...pacifiers. I often don't recognize my pacifiers as such because they aren't always tangible things. But they are always rooted in my desire to soothe myself rather than yielding to God and trusting Him for peace. Release and obedience is an act of worship; a declaration that He is sweeter to me than any other thing.

Your love is sweeter than all pleasure
Your love is richer than all treasure
Your love is better than all fruitless joys
You are better

None compare to You
With my heart and mind and soul
I'll chase You

(from "You Are Better" by Michael Bleeker and Steve Miller 2004)

garments

Actions are clothing
Hiding…expressing—
The wrapper
All we see
of ourselves.
Of others.

Actions speak
But not the loudest.

The loudest sound pounds on in our ears
The background pulse;
Throbbing undercurrent of every deed.

POUND molestation
POUND feeding the hungry
POUND suicide
POUND going to church
POUND murder
POUND fasting
POUND rape
POUND giving to charity
POUND thirsting for power
POUND teaching Sunday School

POUND

POUND

POUND

Our incessant drive
Our one goal
Our true desire
Our central thrust:

SELF.

Controlling my own life.
Charting my own course.
Earning my own way.
Dominating you.
Dominating myself.
Dominating Him.

Through sin.
Through religion.
At our best.
At our worst.

We pump the same blood
With the same intensity.
The heinous criminal,
The devout lawkeeper.
We are the same.

But we don’t believe it
Because of the garments

Burn away the fabric of deeds
Good and bad;
Sins and morality;
They are chaff in the wind—
Ashes all.

The glare of naked skin is all we have.

No more security in the good I do
No more cowering in the shadow of the bad
Just me
Naked
Raw
Scorched
Singed
The truth
Exposed
Like a middle finger in my heart
Bent to self-exaltation

The good girl
Is
The murderer:

The law-keeper
Who
Won’t be ruled

I am what I am
All my bad
All my good
Tainted
and
Vulgar.

Glaring.

My sins
An unbleachable bloodstain
My righteousness
Bloody rags

ALL
An offense
To His holiness
The middle finger
In my heart
Thrusting at heaven
Screaming
I WILL DO IT MYSELF

Into the naked crowd of the world
He stakes His claim
Through tendons and flesh
Hands open and writhing
Smeared with my pain;
My rage at His claims to supremacy
In a shower of my spit and cursing
He screams toward heaven

I WILL DO IT MYSELF

And becomes
My garment.

cravings, culture, and Christians

I think our efforts as evangelical Christians to "be culturally relevant" are largely backfiring, especially with younger people who are craving a sense of reverence, stillness, beauty, and the eternal in their lives.

Many churches have gone "mega" (huge stadium-style buildings, entertainment-based services, shorter sermons, "seeker-sensitive" styling, etc.) in an attempt to make Christ relevant to the average unchurched person.

The problem is...Christ IS relevant to the average unchurched person--already. All this hype only makes it look like He wasn't to begin with. And worse than that, it distracts from the eternal, universal Truth that can only be found in Him; it suffocates true worship by centering around US, not Him.

We're designed for worship. But when it terminates on us, even worship is unsatisfying. Instead of letting the gospel speak into and shape our current experience, we distract from it by "making it edgy" and pouring it into a corporate-organized, entertainment-styled package. We underestimate people (and God's ability to reach them), thinking they will only be interested in the truth if it comes to them in the season's hottest colors or via video venue with professionally-mixed music.

Have we forgotten that God's truth is timeless? That our little lives are just a drop in the bucket of history? That people want more than a hyped-up version of God? Have we created Him in our own image and lost sight of Who He really is? Because if we knew and experienced Him, we would feel no need to hype Him up. He is more than enough: uncontainable, immeasurable, and overwhelming. THIS is what we crave. We muddy His glory (and intensify our angst) when we reveal Him as anything less.

If we spent more time in stillness and humility before Him (individually and corporately), I think our need for all this drama would fade. Our lives would declare Him. People would see His true glory as we live transparently and they see what He can do in a yielded person. It's breathtaking.

We're technology minded, but exhausted from looking at screens. We Facebook, Twitter, text, post, and 12-step, but still ache for someone to really know us. We fill ourselves with fast food, caffeine, Velveeta, silicone, and HDTV, but crave what's real. God is the only One Who can give it to us. The church is not selling something, but revealing Someone. Let's not get in the way.

better than

The boys were eating ice cream cones the other day when Creed said thoughtfully, "Mommy, Daddy is better than ice cream."

Coming from a five year old, this is no small compliment. As fabulous as Daddy is, few five-year-old boys would rate him superior while submerged in chocolate ice cream.

Most of us are the same way. The "ice cream" of life varies from person to person, but those things we savor most compete with our adoration of God. What I immerse myself in is what I love. What I love is what I immerse myself in.

Lord, stir up my affections for You so that everything I experience satisfies and stimulates my hunger for You.

Psalm 63

actual vs. potential

It can be nerve racking to be around artists. To render well, they see every pore; every unplucked eyebrow; every sag; every wrinkle. An artist sees brutal reality and records it. Picasso the novice.

But there's another side to artists--the perspective of the visionary. The need to embellish, update, clarify, distort, and perfect. To render things not as they are, but as the artist sees them. Picasso the cubist.

The Master Artist sees beyond pores, eyebrows, sags, and wrinkles to my anxiety, fatigue, blind spots, error, mess, conflict, darkness. He also sees who I will be: beautiful, released, growing, trusting, new, different, bright. HOPE.

May I be the kind of artist who, seeing the flaws, emphasizes the beauty.

proof of God's love

"While we were yet in weakness [powerless to help ourselves], at the fitting time Christ died for (in behalf of) the ungodly. Now it is an extraordinary thing for one to give his life even for an upright man, though perhaps for a noble and lovable and generous benefactor someone might even dare to die. But God shows and clearly proves His [own] love for us by the fact that while we were still sinners, Christ (the Messiah, the Anointed One) died for us. Therefore, since we are now justified (acquitted, made righteous, and brought into right relationship with God) by Christ's blood, how much more [certain is it that] we shall be saved by Him from the indignation and wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, it is much more [certain], now that we are reconciled, that we shall be saved (daily delivered from sin's dominion) through His [resurrection] life." --Romans 5:6-10

from love alone

"Should I worship Him from fear of hell, may I be cast into it. Should I serve Him from desire of gaining heaven, may He keep me out. But should I worship Him from love alone, may He reveal Himself to me, that my whole heart may be filled with His love and presence."

--Sadhu Sundar Singh (1889-1929), Meditations on Various Aspects of the Spiritual Life

entertainment-based worship?

I am beginning to view doctrine more broadly--as more than just a set of beliefs. I really think how we worship declares what we believe about God just as much as our doctrinal statement (maybe even more).

What are we saying about God when we:

• come to church in flip flops and jeans
• create worship venues so everyone can sing songs in the style they prefer
• build purely functional "worship centers" devoid of any beauty or embellishment
• eliminate light and windows from the sanctuary in favor of media screens
• rename sanctuaries "worship centers" and churches "campuses"
• fill worship services with dramas and announcements/ads for upcoming events, and any moments of silence with music
• greet worshippers with "enjoy the service today"

I worry that we are remaking worship into something for us rather than valuing it as a gift we bring to God. More and more it seems to reflect/imitate our culture, rather than stand in contrast to it. When I enter a church and it feels the same as the rest of my life (complete with Christian pop music I've heard on the radio all week, the same rushed pace, the same noise level, the same dress code, the same kind of building I've been in all week), I miss a sense of having been in God's presence. Are we trying to create something no different than every other part of our lives, or is it happening accidentally?

"Mommy, why does God love us?"

There was a long pause as I considered this.

My mind wandered back to the first moment I held my infant boy. So helpless. He didn't even know who I was--only that I was familiar; that something inside him was drawn to me; needed me; would die without me. He didn't know me; didn't love me. He just needed me. He hadn't done anything yet except be mine. And that was why I loved him. I loved him because I made him. I loved him because he was mine to love.

Romans 5:6-10

Maybe He loves us because that's what He's like.

What do you think the world needs most?

We need an unveiling. We need to see ourselves as we really are. If we believed that God is who He says He is and that we are who He says we are, everything in our lives would be different. But without even realizing it, we see ourselves through pride-frosted lenses, believing God owes us something--anything!--and in doing so we smear His name and cheapen His glory. We are angry at the idea that a loving God could create hell...because we don't understand God's glory and we feel He owes us. If we can't see ourselves as God sees us, we can never be healed.

communion

I took the cup
Held it in my warm palm
Watched the rich blood-color
Realized the wine
Pulsing in its cup—
Tremors rhythmed from my hand
Like ripples in a small red pond—
I saw my heart in the cup
Alive and pulsing
His death my lifeblood