Well, it has been a long while since I have been on here. I should be inspired by my very prolific writer/artist wife who manages to put up several posts a week. I have had a few different ideas on my mind but wasn't sure how to write about them.
A few months back I thumbed through a journal that Na and I shared as we reflected on chapters from Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution. He talks about spiritual bulimia, this sort of pattern where we take in as much as we can and we spit right out with those of us around us, not taking the time to absorb and digest it. While he was discussing it on the level of spiritual matters it got me thinking about information.
We have so much right at our fingertips with lightning fast internet and our 4g networks and XmRadio and tv. I find that I am out there looking for new things, new information to absorb and read all the time. The internet is such an amazing resource for random information. What I have noticed is the ability for retention is significantly reduced because I have all this information right at hand. Why bother to really remember something when I could just look it up?
Another strange and possibly scary thing is that I find that I read a lot of things without really reading them. If that makes any sense, I have noticed I will click on a bunch of articles and lose interest before I finish or find that I am simply skimming it for interesting parts. As I close the window or tab, I often walk away with not much more than I started with in my mind.
I think that part of this is linked in to an addiction to accessing the information. I find myself wanting to log on and see what information I can find when I could be doing more important things. I even look forward to it when I am doing other things. Hours and hours go away and there is still more out there. Perhaps this is a personal slump, but I wonder in this day and age where we are constantly distracted if there are others, many others, out there like me? I find it disturbing that my consumption is like that of what Shane Claiborne calls spiritual bulimia, I graze the information without really processing it and move on. I have observed as well that due to not wanting to dwell on a certain subject for too long I can often avoid issues that are important and that run deeper. Instead I might spend a long time researching something of little substance.
It is kind of an empty feeling, as if you are going in each day to distract yourself from something else. I think that this simply comes in different forms. People distract themselves by spending hours playing video games, alcohol, tv, drugs, sports, obsessing over almost anything. What is it? Is it knowing that we are called to more responsibility and accountability and yet are overwhelmed with it? Are we afraid to face ourselves or the questions that persist when we STOP? Are we avoiding the people around us, avoiding deep, real relationships? Are we drowning out God's voice with noise? Are we avoiding Him?
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday, August 17, 2008
follow?
Ozzie Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest for August 17th starts out with the verse Luke 18:22 which reads, “Yet thou lackest one thing; sell all that thou hast…and come, follow Me.” [capitalization is Ozzie’s, not mine]
In this day’s reading, he talks about how Jesus has a lot for us which we listen to, yet not necessarily hear. Yet, there are those times when we feel like we are falling or for a moment you are stuck or it just smacks you in the face like a splat on your windshield. Mr. Chamber’s says those words are “amazingly hard” when they actually do get through to us. I think all of us are pretty aware of this, if you read the same Bible as me, there are some shocking things going on in there that we tend to rationalize away through saying it was hyperbole, analogy, or has a different meaning because of context or even get lost in the intellectualness of it all rather than looking to God’s heart.
What did strike me as I read this is when the devotional goes on and says, “Our Lord never pleaded, He never cajoled, He never entrapped; He simply spoke the sternest words mortal ears ever listened to, and then left it alone.” He then asks, has God ever said something challenging to me which I have clearly heard? I did not really want to hear these words because it places so much responsibility on us. Just the idea that maybe God has not specifically requested of us to sell all our possessions, but there is something else he asks before we are to follow him and then we are given a choice—to do it quick or turn away downtrodden by what we cannot do.
Jesus is pretty hardcore sometimes. Yeah, He is human and there is this balance between the guy that weeps for loss of friends and enjoys a good party from time to time to the guy that says to a disciple in Matthew 8 he should follow him NOW, not even taking time to bury his deceased father. Right before that he says to a teacher of the law that wants to follow him, “man, I made everything you see around you. I AM, and I spoke it into existence. Foxes, birds, ants—they all have a place to call home and yet I do not even have shelter. I am a sojourner; I am homeless. Are you sure you are up to it?” I could distract myself with the idea that Jesus was just trying to make a point of all that it costs to walk and talk with him. Yet, when I ask myself if I would be able to leave behind my responsibility to family I get a little lost in the practical aspects that need to be taken care of. “What will my family think? Jesus does not really mine right this very instant, he can wait a day or two. I cannot just leave them like that.” Do you think you could? Given the burial has not taken place yet, that means the loss is very recent and one would still be immersed in the pain and mourning.
On top of this He says, “let the dead bury their own dead” which at first glance can look extremely callous. And yet, the implications of this are deep—six-feet deep—if you will. The idea is that those that are not truly alive are concerned with the wrong things rather than following. This is pretty scary, but what does that say about me when I turn down the chance to follow up on what Jesus is speaking to me? That I am dead?
This is all really important to munch on, to let it set in, process, then regurgitate and ruminate on it. I am just not sure how. So many times, reading the newspaper or watching the news or talking with friends you get these crazy ideas or strong feelings about something. Or when reading the scriptures suddenly you get excited about a passage or something makes your blood pump a little faster because you never noticed that verse or thought about it that way. I think it appropriate to credit the Holy Spirit in pointing out things to us that we have seen a million times but suddenly are almost highlighted and illuminated so clearly. Given the perfect, holy communion between the persons of God, would it be too much to say that convictions or passions can be Him speaking to us [a little indirectly?]? This is scary because we get all into whatever it is at the time but not necessarily do anything about it. Where is the follow through, taking actions to our ideas and beliefs. To know something and not do anything about it is perfidy—we are breaching something that was entrusted to us in faith.
So many times I think, “man, I just want to follow.” Well, it is time to rethink, to look anew, to see all the offers Jesus has put out there, lovingly, without demanding.
There is hope though. Oswald Chambers says near the conclusion of the devotional, “Our Lord knows perfectly that when once His word is heard, it will bear fruit sooner or later.”
Lord, cure this leprosy of the soul.
It is time to follow.
In this day’s reading, he talks about how Jesus has a lot for us which we listen to, yet not necessarily hear. Yet, there are those times when we feel like we are falling or for a moment you are stuck or it just smacks you in the face like a splat on your windshield. Mr. Chamber’s says those words are “amazingly hard” when they actually do get through to us. I think all of us are pretty aware of this, if you read the same Bible as me, there are some shocking things going on in there that we tend to rationalize away through saying it was hyperbole, analogy, or has a different meaning because of context or even get lost in the intellectualness of it all rather than looking to God’s heart.
What did strike me as I read this is when the devotional goes on and says, “Our Lord never pleaded, He never cajoled, He never entrapped; He simply spoke the sternest words mortal ears ever listened to, and then left it alone.” He then asks, has God ever said something challenging to me which I have clearly heard? I did not really want to hear these words because it places so much responsibility on us. Just the idea that maybe God has not specifically requested of us to sell all our possessions, but there is something else he asks before we are to follow him and then we are given a choice—to do it quick or turn away downtrodden by what we cannot do.
Jesus is pretty hardcore sometimes. Yeah, He is human and there is this balance between the guy that weeps for loss of friends and enjoys a good party from time to time to the guy that says to a disciple in Matthew 8 he should follow him NOW, not even taking time to bury his deceased father. Right before that he says to a teacher of the law that wants to follow him, “man, I made everything you see around you. I AM, and I spoke it into existence. Foxes, birds, ants—they all have a place to call home and yet I do not even have shelter. I am a sojourner; I am homeless. Are you sure you are up to it?” I could distract myself with the idea that Jesus was just trying to make a point of all that it costs to walk and talk with him. Yet, when I ask myself if I would be able to leave behind my responsibility to family I get a little lost in the practical aspects that need to be taken care of. “What will my family think? Jesus does not really mine right this very instant, he can wait a day or two. I cannot just leave them like that.” Do you think you could? Given the burial has not taken place yet, that means the loss is very recent and one would still be immersed in the pain and mourning.
On top of this He says, “let the dead bury their own dead” which at first glance can look extremely callous. And yet, the implications of this are deep—six-feet deep—if you will. The idea is that those that are not truly alive are concerned with the wrong things rather than following. This is pretty scary, but what does that say about me when I turn down the chance to follow up on what Jesus is speaking to me? That I am dead?
This is all really important to munch on, to let it set in, process, then regurgitate and ruminate on it. I am just not sure how. So many times, reading the newspaper or watching the news or talking with friends you get these crazy ideas or strong feelings about something. Or when reading the scriptures suddenly you get excited about a passage or something makes your blood pump a little faster because you never noticed that verse or thought about it that way. I think it appropriate to credit the Holy Spirit in pointing out things to us that we have seen a million times but suddenly are almost highlighted and illuminated so clearly. Given the perfect, holy communion between the persons of God, would it be too much to say that convictions or passions can be Him speaking to us [a little indirectly?]? This is scary because we get all into whatever it is at the time but not necessarily do anything about it. Where is the follow through, taking actions to our ideas and beliefs. To know something and not do anything about it is perfidy—we are breaching something that was entrusted to us in faith.
So many times I think, “man, I just want to follow.” Well, it is time to rethink, to look anew, to see all the offers Jesus has put out there, lovingly, without demanding.
There is hope though. Oswald Chambers says near the conclusion of the devotional, “Our Lord knows perfectly that when once His word is heard, it will bear fruit sooner or later.”
Lord, cure this leprosy of the soul.
It is time to follow.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Catch
Sometimes I feel like we are playing a game of catch. Catch requires a minimum of two people working together to create a flow of catch and release. We throw the ball differently each time—although the people that do it for a living have a machine-like precision—which usually requires the other person to adjust. (Now, bear with me as I try explain this silly little metaphor which is actually more of a picture in my head that popped in there a few years ago and some reason had lay dormant until now.)
Suppose we are playing this game with our dad for the first time. He is ever patient with us, encouraging us so that we do not despair and give up. We look stupid as we fumble the ball and drop it the first million times he throws it to us. He says, “Don’t worry about it son, have your hands ready and keep your eye on the ball” as he throws it so that it requires little of us to actually catch it. When kids first learn they have to develop their reflexes—how many of us have seen kids grab at the ball in the air after it’s already landed? Then we learn what to do with our hands, you cannot have them stiff otherwise either your fingers get jammed and hurt for weeks or it just bounces off. They have to be relaxed and yet ready to snap, grab, and cradle at the right moment.
Once we get the hang of it—you know, when we get really good and there is not much that can wipe that huge grin off of our face—he changes it up a little. He starts throwing it at different distances with more or less power and speed. We go, “what am I supposed to do now?” as the ball no longer lands in our hands but five feet in front of us. Soon we begin to figure it out, “oh, I actually have to move to the ball now.” This makes it all the more complex, having to figure out how to factor in all of these things—you know, wind chill factor, not running into trees, not tripping on roots or sprinklers, and so on and so forth. Then to make things worse—or better?—he throws it harder and it comes at you faster than you can say ouch and it hurts more than a dozen bee stings. As your hands swell and throb he then throws so high up that you cannot help but wince as you squint into the sun and can only hope it does not hit you in the face.
Then he says, “Go long!” And off we run.
Why am I so rigid?
Why are my legs so stiff?
Why is it like my feet have buried themselves underneath the grass and have taken root?
Why am I so reticent?
Why can’t you throw the ball right to me where I want it?
You mean I have to run? But I’m tired, my hands sting, my lungs burn, my legs feel like they are going to give out—or rather, they will if I choose to go for it. What do you mean I can do it? How do you know? What? You’ve done it? You’ve been in my place and know how it is? Is that how you are so patient and good at coaching me along in this?
He knows what we are capable of and thus pushes us beyond what we though we could do. It is hard for me to believe that he knows these things, but I have to. I have to just believe that my little legs will take me the distance, the only thing spurring me on is his voice. In the end, I want to know that I ran as hard as I could to try and make the catch to make him happy. He knows how much I can handle and if I do not make it, maybe I did not push hard enough. I do know that when I trip on my own feet or get clothes-lined by a branch or just plain screw it up that he loves me all the same. Then when I am sweaty and thirsty, “hey, good job out there, lets get some lemonade.”
Suppose we are playing this game with our dad for the first time. He is ever patient with us, encouraging us so that we do not despair and give up. We look stupid as we fumble the ball and drop it the first million times he throws it to us. He says, “Don’t worry about it son, have your hands ready and keep your eye on the ball” as he throws it so that it requires little of us to actually catch it. When kids first learn they have to develop their reflexes—how many of us have seen kids grab at the ball in the air after it’s already landed? Then we learn what to do with our hands, you cannot have them stiff otherwise either your fingers get jammed and hurt for weeks or it just bounces off. They have to be relaxed and yet ready to snap, grab, and cradle at the right moment.
Once we get the hang of it—you know, when we get really good and there is not much that can wipe that huge grin off of our face—he changes it up a little. He starts throwing it at different distances with more or less power and speed. We go, “what am I supposed to do now?” as the ball no longer lands in our hands but five feet in front of us. Soon we begin to figure it out, “oh, I actually have to move to the ball now.” This makes it all the more complex, having to figure out how to factor in all of these things—you know, wind chill factor, not running into trees, not tripping on roots or sprinklers, and so on and so forth. Then to make things worse—or better?—he throws it harder and it comes at you faster than you can say ouch and it hurts more than a dozen bee stings. As your hands swell and throb he then throws so high up that you cannot help but wince as you squint into the sun and can only hope it does not hit you in the face.
Then he says, “Go long!” And off we run.
Why am I so rigid?
Why are my legs so stiff?
Why is it like my feet have buried themselves underneath the grass and have taken root?
Why am I so reticent?
Why can’t you throw the ball right to me where I want it?
You mean I have to run? But I’m tired, my hands sting, my lungs burn, my legs feel like they are going to give out—or rather, they will if I choose to go for it. What do you mean I can do it? How do you know? What? You’ve done it? You’ve been in my place and know how it is? Is that how you are so patient and good at coaching me along in this?
He knows what we are capable of and thus pushes us beyond what we though we could do. It is hard for me to believe that he knows these things, but I have to. I have to just believe that my little legs will take me the distance, the only thing spurring me on is his voice. In the end, I want to know that I ran as hard as I could to try and make the catch to make him happy. He knows how much I can handle and if I do not make it, maybe I did not push hard enough. I do know that when I trip on my own feet or get clothes-lined by a branch or just plain screw it up that he loves me all the same. Then when I am sweaty and thirsty, “hey, good job out there, lets get some lemonade.”
Sunday, September 2, 2007
January 20, 2006
Where to start with this blog? It has been a long time since I last wrote one. I'm feeling a little brave tonight so forget the whole poem thing--the old stream-of-consciousness writing ensues.
I was thinking the other day why I started putting only poems or retarded "metaphorical" stories on here. I think I started on a path of a broader difference between the outside and within--to be even less serious and joke around more and yet write more introspective things on here. As if I was going to reveal some other hidden part of me, or even the real me or something, I do not even know what the real me is. Somehow I thought that I would get people's attention through what I wrote. Humph, silly idea that was. I guess in order to do that you have to write about relevant things or in a way that makes sense to people. So then I found myself in such a conflict, is it better to write in a way that is true to yourself and what you are trying to express? Or better to write less vaguely so people can more easily identify?
I just read a friend's blog and I feel so broken for him, what can I do? So much pain in the lives of people I know and regretting not saying the words to let them know of the vicarious hurt I feel for them, even if I never had the words. You, my friends that bear the scars of troubles, that come out stronger--are my heroes. You who mourn your losses and take on life with even more courage.
I did not set any New Year's resolutions this year. No, it was not that I resolved not to make resolutions or anything clever like that. I only hope that it was not a manifestation of my apathy. I had never been real big on it but I would try and change things I guess. Sheesh, talk of resolutions is so trite. Ok, moving on...
A struggle recently has been belonging. I always thought I would belong at home in that humid paradise of sweat and splendid food. Bangkok I will always love you. Thailand you are always my home. Then I met with my classmates and friends and I felt very out of place, which I was perplexed at initially because we had come from all over--none of us had seen each other in a while. But as I thought about it I realized that we were living such different lives, headed in different directions and that saddened me so. The decisions they make, the lifestyle that they live contrasted with mine. At times I felt as if maybe I was not really living life in this institution we call Simpson University, in an artificial atmosphere. Truly, being surrounded by Christians 24/7 is amazing in the fellowship I get, but it is so ersatz. I say this because when we are finished with our time here, we are in the real world again of nonbelievers. I'm not sure how to tie my several thoughts in here into one paragraph. Anyway, all this to say that I felt like it was difficult for me to identify with my friends and relate with their experiences because my life is so different. Not that I am jealous of their lives, I just felt empty. Especially because I felt like I would always have that closeness with them. Even more so because I felt between two worlds, not belonging to either. Because I am not a super-Christian, or as vibrantly expressive in my faith in this place of deep spirituality. Because I grew up overseas, I can get close to but not never quite relate with people here. [Do not get me wrong, people here are amazing, just the belonging is not quite there.] Home is where the heart is, but if the heart is reluctantly extirpated where is home? [I know I know, my family is still there. Duh, home is always with them but...you get what I mean.] 'Sigh, the human need to sense belonging.
I noticed that in the times I am feeling the most melancholy is sometimes when people laugh most at what I say. Kind of counter-intuitive I guess. But I guess humor makes it easier to hide.
Sometimes I wish I were like those people that write inspiring things or revelations from life that move people to live life differently or to think about stuff. Or to at least write about relevant things that matter, based on the constant outcry of pain and suffering in the world exacerbated by apathy and inaction.
Going back to living different lives than my friends...a difficult thought was, would I have lived any differently had I been in their situation? What foolish decisions would I have made, or even if I were put in them now would I fall?
Well that concludes for now. I thought I had much more to write when I started but this is what managed to leak out of my fumbled mind.
I was thinking the other day why I started putting only poems or retarded "metaphorical" stories on here. I think I started on a path of a broader difference between the outside and within--to be even less serious and joke around more and yet write more introspective things on here. As if I was going to reveal some other hidden part of me, or even the real me or something, I do not even know what the real me is. Somehow I thought that I would get people's attention through what I wrote. Humph, silly idea that was. I guess in order to do that you have to write about relevant things or in a way that makes sense to people. So then I found myself in such a conflict, is it better to write in a way that is true to yourself and what you are trying to express? Or better to write less vaguely so people can more easily identify?
I just read a friend's blog and I feel so broken for him, what can I do? So much pain in the lives of people I know and regretting not saying the words to let them know of the vicarious hurt I feel for them, even if I never had the words. You, my friends that bear the scars of troubles, that come out stronger--are my heroes. You who mourn your losses and take on life with even more courage.
I did not set any New Year's resolutions this year. No, it was not that I resolved not to make resolutions or anything clever like that. I only hope that it was not a manifestation of my apathy. I had never been real big on it but I would try and change things I guess. Sheesh, talk of resolutions is so trite. Ok, moving on...
A struggle recently has been belonging. I always thought I would belong at home in that humid paradise of sweat and splendid food. Bangkok I will always love you. Thailand you are always my home. Then I met with my classmates and friends and I felt very out of place, which I was perplexed at initially because we had come from all over--none of us had seen each other in a while. But as I thought about it I realized that we were living such different lives, headed in different directions and that saddened me so. The decisions they make, the lifestyle that they live contrasted with mine. At times I felt as if maybe I was not really living life in this institution we call Simpson University, in an artificial atmosphere. Truly, being surrounded by Christians 24/7 is amazing in the fellowship I get, but it is so ersatz. I say this because when we are finished with our time here, we are in the real world again of nonbelievers. I'm not sure how to tie my several thoughts in here into one paragraph. Anyway, all this to say that I felt like it was difficult for me to identify with my friends and relate with their experiences because my life is so different. Not that I am jealous of their lives, I just felt empty. Especially because I felt like I would always have that closeness with them. Even more so because I felt between two worlds, not belonging to either. Because I am not a super-Christian, or as vibrantly expressive in my faith in this place of deep spirituality. Because I grew up overseas, I can get close to but not never quite relate with people here. [Do not get me wrong, people here are amazing, just the belonging is not quite there.] Home is where the heart is, but if the heart is reluctantly extirpated where is home? [I know I know, my family is still there. Duh, home is always with them but...you get what I mean.] 'Sigh, the human need to sense belonging.
I noticed that in the times I am feeling the most melancholy is sometimes when people laugh most at what I say. Kind of counter-intuitive I guess. But I guess humor makes it easier to hide.
Sometimes I wish I were like those people that write inspiring things or revelations from life that move people to live life differently or to think about stuff. Or to at least write about relevant things that matter, based on the constant outcry of pain and suffering in the world exacerbated by apathy and inaction.
Going back to living different lives than my friends...a difficult thought was, would I have lived any differently had I been in their situation? What foolish decisions would I have made, or even if I were put in them now would I fall?
Well that concludes for now. I thought I had much more to write when I started but this is what managed to leak out of my fumbled mind.
November 30, 2005 - Diatribe Against the Diet Tribe
Diatribe against the Diet Tribe
Figure - plump,
Intellect - emaciated.
Social insouciance.
Christless crisis.
While I'm at it, here I go. I have had a problem with using the name of Christ without thinking, His name becomes a copout when we don't know what to say. I guess I am also tired of us throwing His name around to try as if we feel like we need to to prove our faith. Should not our actions and words be in the context of Christ? That people can tell by the way we talk that He is the starting point, the foundation for all we do and say? He should be evident, He should permeate our lives, not a mere name that we have to integrate into our speech. Maybe I am wrong, maybe I am being defensive as someone that does not talk about my faith 24/7 against a conviction to do so more. Maybe I'm just jaded.
Hmm, that's probably the world's shortest diatribe. I guess I usually try to be more diplomatic and nonopinionated or relay my thoughts through metaphor or poetry that nobody understands. Arg, going against all my hesitancy and just saying it.
To explain is to ruin the effect, but oh well. For those that do not catch on "Diet Tribe" refers to the people of this land. Obsessed with the quick and easy solution to solve our problems without any effort. Going off of my last blog I guess (referring to what people read and what they write)--people do not like to think about things so you have to spell it out plain and simple (hrm, is that what I'm doing now?) so that they can get whatever substance out of it in as little time as possible. People just write whatever they are thinking--yet I guess that is what blogging is for. Moreover, I observe that people tend to prefer reading predigested material.
Or perhaps I just tend to favor high-falutin malarky.
Am I over-analyzing and being cynical for little reason? Likely. Am I fettered to the desire to look for the quick and easy way? More than I wish was true. Am I feeling insecure about posting what I am actually thinking? Yes. Is there a point to this paragraph? Not really.
The irony: this blog is predigested. All these words to explain 8 words (and its title) and give them context. [Originally the diatribe was meant to consist of just the first 8 words so consider them two separate sections]
I wonder if that came out right, I've been mulling over this for awhile and these are the thoughts that fought their way to the forefront of my mind as I wrote this.
Figure - plump,
Intellect - emaciated.
Social insouciance.
Christless crisis.
While I'm at it, here I go. I have had a problem with using the name of Christ without thinking, His name becomes a copout when we don't know what to say. I guess I am also tired of us throwing His name around to try as if we feel like we need to to prove our faith. Should not our actions and words be in the context of Christ? That people can tell by the way we talk that He is the starting point, the foundation for all we do and say? He should be evident, He should permeate our lives, not a mere name that we have to integrate into our speech. Maybe I am wrong, maybe I am being defensive as someone that does not talk about my faith 24/7 against a conviction to do so more. Maybe I'm just jaded.
Hmm, that's probably the world's shortest diatribe. I guess I usually try to be more diplomatic and nonopinionated or relay my thoughts through metaphor or poetry that nobody understands. Arg, going against all my hesitancy and just saying it.
To explain is to ruin the effect, but oh well. For those that do not catch on "Diet Tribe" refers to the people of this land. Obsessed with the quick and easy solution to solve our problems without any effort. Going off of my last blog I guess (referring to what people read and what they write)--people do not like to think about things so you have to spell it out plain and simple (hrm, is that what I'm doing now?) so that they can get whatever substance out of it in as little time as possible. People just write whatever they are thinking--yet I guess that is what blogging is for. Moreover, I observe that people tend to prefer reading predigested material.
Or perhaps I just tend to favor high-falutin malarky.
Am I over-analyzing and being cynical for little reason? Likely. Am I fettered to the desire to look for the quick and easy way? More than I wish was true. Am I feeling insecure about posting what I am actually thinking? Yes. Is there a point to this paragraph? Not really.
The irony: this blog is predigested. All these words to explain 8 words (and its title) and give them context. [Originally the diatribe was meant to consist of just the first 8 words so consider them two separate sections]
I wonder if that came out right, I've been mulling over this for awhile and these are the thoughts that fought their way to the forefront of my mind as I wrote this.
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