Sunday, September 6, 2009

beatific vision

I was thinking of the beatific vision. All of life is a suffering journey to see that face, the face of GOD. The face that Moses longed to see and prostrated in haste upon seeing even the Lord's back. It is a face of such beauty that all saints have wandered many a briery furnace to glimpse and denied even the pain of death upon the sight. It is the face from which all other beautiful faces spring ... I think now of my wife and my daughter and my sons ... of my friends ... of strangers who smile with grace upon me.


I think it is worth suffering to see that face. I think it is more than worth the journey.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Quotes

What a solemn, precious lesson! It is not to sin only that the cleansing of
the Husbandman refers (John 15:1-3). It is to our own religious activity, as
it is developed in the very act of bearing fruit. In working for God our
natural gifts of wisdom, or eloquence, or influence, or zeal are ever in
danger of being unduly developed, and then trusted in. So, after each season
of work, God has to bring us to the end of ourselves, to the consciousness
of the helplessness and the danger of all that is of man, to feel that we
are nothing.

---- Andrew Murry (from Dawn's Powers, Weakness, and the Tabernacling of
God).

Just try to imagine that the Pattern is called a "Lamb." That alone is a scandal to the natural mind. Who has any desire to be a lamb? (Soren Kierkegaard)

Thursday, July 30, 2009

What is a Pastor?

I am always asking that question (consciously or unconscionably). What is my center as a pastor? Am I being true to that center or am I lost in the many duties that amount on my desk or issue from meetings or fill my inbox. I must say that I am not totally sure ...

So, I continue to read books about it and look in the pages of scripture. The two things I read today are: 1 Peter 5 saying that elder/pastors are to offer willing (voluntary, not for gain) oversight ... but not through "domineering over those in your charge but being examples to the flock." So a pastor is called to be an example of life with Christ. Does that mean showing people my life? How do I do that, really do that in the life of a church our size?

That makes me think of a line from Augustine: "What I am for you terrifies me; what I am with you consoles me. For you I am a bishop, but with you I am a Christian. The former is a title of duty, the latter, one of grace. The former is danger, the latter, salvation." In Romans Paul (not talking about elders but all Christians) says "we, who are many, are one body of Christ... we are members one of another." We are all Christians and there is no distinction in that because we are all one body of Christ. Yet, we are different members of the body ...

I also looked back at a Peterson book (my most read source on defining pastor) The Contemplative Pastor and he says in one of the first chapters that a pastor: prays, preaches, and listens. All three of these things require stillness and a sort of holy leisure ... time to listen, time to pray, time to personally struggle over the pages of scripture.

Now Peterson (so we don't think him all idealism) offers a caveat farther on in the book: "I am not contemptuous of running a church, nor do I dismiss its importance. I run a church myself; I have for over twenty years. I try to do it well. But I do it in the same spirit that I, along with my wife, run our house. There are many essential things we routinely do, often (but not always) with joy. But running a house is not what we do. What we do is build a home, develop in marriage, raise children, practice hospitality, pursue lives of work and play. It is reducing pastoral work to institutional duties that I object to, not the duties themselves, which I gladly share with others in the church."

So that is probably enough to think about right now. I am still thinking and reading and praying ...

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Photo of our age: A Pieper Story


In October of 1943, when Josef Pieper was temporarily on leave from military service and at home with his family in Münster, he and his wife decided to take their three young children to the zoo on a lovely, almost summery, afternoon. He took along his camera for the occasion and had taken pictures of the children just a few hundred yards from the house when they heard the air raid sirens begin to sound. As they got down into a trench, he suddenly recalled that he had not closed the garden door of the house. Running the short distance back to do that, he saw the American planes over the very center of Münster, and in a matter of moments the heart of the city was ablaze. Camera still in hand, he ran to the attic and took pictures of the city in flames.

And so it happened, he recalled, that on a single roll of film the contradictions of our century-and of human life more generally-are captured. Pictures of happy young children with their parents, heading off for an afternoon's enjoyment on a lovely October day. Pictures of the burning cathedral and town hall-surely not military targets-in the heart of the city. This is the world in which justice is hard to discern, courage not easy to come by, and hope difficult to sustain.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Ohio (Fostoria, OH)


Recently, I asked my parents how old I was when we moved to Ohio. I was born in Columbia, TN and thought I was about 5 when we moved to Ohio. They said I was only three and so it kind of clicked to me that most of my memorable growing up happened (not in the South, as I always think) but in the midwest. My best friend really until almost college was Mark Haubert. He lived on a corn field and I remember going to his house all the time.

So, I decided to go back for a visit. We moved away when I finished 3rd grade and I don't think we went back much after we moved to GA (which happened for 5th grade ... in between was a year in Connecticut). I really want to see those Ohio cornfields again for some reason and the Haubert place (Roger and Alice still live there). So Tara said she was up for it and so we are heading up there for the day on Saturday or Sunday. I think reading the summer fiction (Jayber Crow and Home) has really got me thinking about my past.

SO, I am excited about going to Ohio. Fostoria is below Toledo. All I really remember is how flat it is and cornfields.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

The Hawk (little poem)

A HAWK

We will never conquer God's creation ...
don't get me wrong,
I know that we have doom upon our shoulder
(whispering to be done with everything)

But here I sit in Atlanta in the upper floor of a Starbucks
looking upon asphalt and builder trees
with a clever brick Verizonwireless neat and prefab
across the street and direclty behind that in my view
is the new Piedmont in beautiful glass and concrete
and then the open sky above them both
and there floats
a HAWK
ABOVE US ALL
eagle eyeing what prey scurries gutters
and dumsters ...
or perhaps yipping on a leash

Jesus, I love your birds.

All those fifth day creations
those manifold flyers
who beat us by 10,000 years
and continue to astound
silver laptop poets
with broken coffee pot brains
wearing headphones and writing about relationships
and thinking about the natives of old
who knew the somber meaning of
A HAWK

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

99 cents will change your life

Listen. I am not sure how many readers I have in this category, but if you are single guy and need a good scare about your bad habits ... ok your sins and the beast they make of you. If you need to hear an incredible song that threatens the unreality that is Halo 2 (behind the times I am sure ... even though the album came out late 2008). If you want to listen to popular culture rip a piece out of popular culture ... actually you can't really refer to the Drones as pop culture just because they play in a rock band, they are too "depressing" in very non-typical ways for that. So I ruined my plot line a little, but go on i-tunes and buy the song The Minotaur by the Drones. Listen to it two or three times. Then look up the lyrics. Then find out what the Latin at the end means and refers to. And then repent and pray for all your brothers.

Actually, if you are a man you probably need to lay your $0.99 on the barrel head and check your heart before you turn into a bull-headed beast ... cut off from the world and pawing at the surf of your own internal chaos. (aren't blogs made for this kind of dramatic style of writing). The song is about our violent and beastly culture that is like the Roman games of old ... it is the bull who is winning.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Jayber Crow


Our society, by pushing away all that is demanding ... all that requires responsibility, by embracing all that is easy and "time-saving" or pleasurable immediately ... we have lost ourselves. We are more lost than during war or depression ... we are lost and without place. And Jayber saw it all in his days. He watched the fabric begin to tear and once it was torn it could only continue to tear as it has.

There is much more that could be said about this excellent book ... I need to read it again to get it out. More time for it late in life when I am an old Jayber Crow.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Cynics and our lack of Joy

I love reading about how typical feelings and thoughts are actually very, very old.

Cynic, where we get all our ideas about being cool and cynical of everything, began with a man named Diogenes ... Plato called him "Socrates gone mad." From my Dictionary of Philosophy: "He took 'deface the coinage!' as a motto ... and refused to live by them. He ate scraps and wrote approvingly of cannibalism and [worse things]. One story reports that he carried a lighted lamb around in broad daylight looking for an honest human ... intending to suggest that the people he did see were so corrupted that they were no longer really people. Because of all this he was known as a Cynic, from the Greek word kuon (dog), because he was shameless as a dog." He and his band had a reputation for barking at the rich and respectable.

Of course by the next generation his successor was softer and more accepted by society. This always seems to happen. So what does that mean for us today ...

Cynicism, today, is either a disbelief in persons or a disbelief in any sort of good end. It makes sense that it has become in vogue as of late. Most people have also been taught that nothing will ever really turn out that great in the end ... best to have the fleeting joy made possible to us through television, shopping and sex. And it seems that much of recent philosophy, is really just about seeing through everything (seeing the holes and brokenness in everything) and ultimately seeing nothing. All that means to the typical indie-rocker is that the only connection possible to even another indie-rocker is through sneering and seeing through the same bullcrap.

And how we got here makes sense. All of this is just the cool exterior of people who are desperately lonely and afraid of believing in love or relationship or life, only to be disappointed that it was a lie. We are the most advertised to people ever ... film itself sells us a way of life and a world of things every time we sit down to be entertained. I highly doubt that Shakespeare's set was elaborate enough to convince any peasants of the high-life, but our world is different. Everyone is trying to make us believe, and our only defense is to become cynical long before our time. And most of us are far to young to properly wear such a role ... we lack the long road of experience to properly discern what is false and what is true.

And there lies the dilemma, we don't let ourselves believe there is anything great in our world so we don't do anything great. We don't even look for it.

But the truth is, from God's point of view, this world was still shot through with enough beauty and goodness for him to descend into human flesh and give up his own life (exposing that the world was truly wicked ... just like Nieche said, we would kill God if only we had the chance), but something crazy and wonderful happened. The people around Jesus were forever changed and God descended again in the Holy Spirit ... that until the end of the world and unto the ends of the earth God would be at work among men and women through the church ... which is the Body of Christ. No matter what we see with our tired pilgrim eyes, God is at work in the earth. That is our foundation truth and we work from there always. And so the good news goes forth.

We see death and evil and sin like everyone else ... perhaps better because we know what to call it (the creation-killer), but we are always looking for how God is at work and asking him to show his face or at least his hands ("he's a workin' man") and we know he will. And joy means that we know all that. Not that we know it in some kind of constant vision rolling before our eyes, but deep down in our way of thinking. We know that God is good. We know that God is at work in the earth. We know that we and others like us (other human beings) can be part of that work. And so we have joy.

But sadly, youth culture today is connected to cynicism. Youth is typically connected to hopefulness and it seems a very sad thing that in our culture it is not. The opposite of joy is despair and despair is "the perverse anticipation of the nonfulfillment of hope: 'to despair is to descend into hell.'" (Pieper Hope) "Against all reality, they transform the 'not yet' of hope into the 'not' ... In despair, that which is genuinely human--which alone is able to preserve the easy flow of hope--is paralyzed and frozen."

But we have God at work and so we have hope. And because we have hope and belief in reality, we have joy. We have joy toward the end and we have joy whenever the end comes into the present (which happens a lot actually). We can also have joy in those spots of earth and humanity that are still blessed and shot through with glory (even if a shadowy one).

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Old poem I found on my door

ITs from a poem I wrote called childhood ... I will post it all for something new to post:

waken, quicken, open and crack
the gulf divides and out of earthy
black comes a new sprout

a dead baby fell upon that ground
once long ago ... there it laid covered
a body in peat moss
preserved and ignored
for thousands of days.

snakes shed their skin,
children their insides.
The shell remains and walks on,
the heart is laid to rest.

the body is heavy from new rain,
swollen in the grave.
maybe the time is now.
when it will rise to the top

not resurrection
just to finally be uncovered.

A choice will be yours,
will you look upon this death?
Will you weep?
Will you take this little one
into your arms
cradling loss?

Christ have mercy on us.

You must become like one of these little ones ...
You must become like one of these little ones ...

His kingdom come, will open dead eyes.
Your shell will find the past unchanged,
but the child alive again
like a new sprout from the dirty old ground
of personal histories.