Embracing Loss – the paradoxical road to joy

tears in the night, joy in the morning, and saying yes to both

In the marvelous little book “I Quit”, Geri Scazzero writes, “once you end the pretense of superficiality and ‘niceness’ that characterizes so much of the Christian culture today, you will experience liberation, freedom, and a genuine body life that is truly a taste of the kingdom of heaven”.

The single little paragraph explodes with important truths for me and, I hope, for you too:

1. Superficiality and Pretense are woven into Christian culture. It’s not just Christians, of course, who are guilty of such, but we are guilty.  We love the resurrection and all that comes on the far side of death, betrayal, loss, and sweating drops of blood, but I’m convinced that many Christians still don’t believe there’s room for these other critical elements.  Somehow, conventional wisdom fixates on joy, strength, and an almost godlike transcendence which believes that, come what me, Christians rise above it all because we’ve been taught that good Christians don’t get tired, or angry, or afraid – that good Christians don’t weep or come to the end of it, or the bottom of it.

The result is that we spend a great deal of energy putting on the strong and happy face, like so much make up.  Sing louder, say our mantras about being able to do everything, even though our adrenal glands are exhausted, and we’re not sleeping well, and we’re overwhelmed with children, or aging parents, or the loneliness of being single, or maybe even all of it at once.  I write, in my book on spiritual disciplines, about a moment when my wife was weeping as she led the song “I will enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart…He has made me glad” in our little house church in the mountains, and how people kept singing until someone pointed out that “she doesn’t look very glad at all just now”, which was an astute observation.  It led to a real conversation about feeling overwhelmed, and tired, and angry.  And that, I’d suggest in retrospect, led to real worship because it was worship born out of brokenness, and fear, and good conversation.  This leads me to a second observation, which is that:

2. We must put an end to the superficiality. There’s only one way to do this.  We need to become people who spend less time using slogans, and more time listening to what our own hearts and bodies are telling us.  By ‘slogan’ I mean sayings like this:  “I couldn’t be better” we say, when we slept terribly and our stomach’s in a knot.  Or, “that’s OK” when the reality is that we’re terribly disappointed, or hurt, or angry because some convergence zone of our own story, and circumstances, and something someone said, all conspired to make us mad.  But, since Christians can’t be angry, we deny what our emotions and body are telling us and lie, pretending all is well.

We need to stop doing this and when we do, we’ll find ourselves in good company.  Abraham doubted.  Moses reached the end of his limits and told God had rather die than continue in his ministry.  Paul despaired even of life.  John the Baptist doubted the Messiahship of Jesus at his lowest moment, arrested and forgotten in a dungeon as he was.

Just this weekend, I receive an e-mail from someone, and as I’m reading along I come to one particular sentence and for some reason it terrifies me.  I feel my chest tighten, my breathing become labored, as fear rises up, followed quickly by some tears (which I, of course, fought to hold back).  It’s all much too personal to share more in this venue… but with my wife sitting right there beside me, we both know this much:  these emotions are valuable. God is trying to tell me something, to tell us something.  To the extent that I’m able to acknowledge my fears of loss, my weariness, my disappointment, I’m able to be honestly present – with my wife, and God, and other close friends and family.  That kind of honest presence, with myself and others is, I’m finding, the richest soil in which the seeds of wisdom can germinate.  By my God – it’s hard to let myself be afraid, or weep, or express fear or even weariness.  I’m learning, but it’s requiring me to swim upstream against the triumphalist Christian culture that is deeply embedded in me and others. It requires slowing down and listening to my own heart, and then giving that heart the freedom to express itself, knowing that even in, and perhaps especially in, my brokenness, I’m deeply loved.

3. The paradoxical end of this path: Joy Psalm 126:5 says it this way:  They who sow in tears shall reap in joy and singing.  There’s a reason for this.  Far from being evil, emotions like fear, anger, sadness, and weariness are God’s way of speaking to us and drawing us to God so that we might find the resources we desperately need for our own ongoing transformation.  Paul said that he despaired even of life, and then went on to say that it was this convergence of challenging circumstances that led him to new levels of dependence on Christ, new relinquishment of his own agenda, new exposure (no doubt) of his own false motives.  Thank God he faced the valley with honesty, rather than simply turning up the praise music a little louder.

Pretense and superficiality were hacked to death in Rwanda during the genocide years in the mid-nineties, as the blood and bodies of the faithful clogged the rivers.  But last January, while there, I witnessed the most beautiful worship I’ve ever seen.  What made it beautiful was the uncontrived blend of tears and laughter, weeping and dancing, joy and sorrow – it was unscripted, honest, and beautiful.

To the extent that we’re able to say “I’m tired” or “I’m afriad”, or “I’m angry” or “I’m sad” we’re opening the door, just a crack, towards the kinds of authentic humanness that alone, can reflect God’s glory, receive God’s healing, and know God’s joy.  May you weep today, and face your weariness, and name your fears, all as part of God’s joyful journey.

 

 

The empire has no clothes. The King has colors of hope

In my last post I wrote: Until I’m willing to see both the idolatry and insufficiency of the present “McWorld” system, I’ll also fail to see the radically hopeful nature of the gospel, which provides an exit strategy from these false hopes as it invites us into so much more than a ticket to heaven.

Assuming that I do see the insufficiency of the present worldview (no matter who’s in power), only clears the deck of false hopes.  It deconstructs.  It exposes.  And, if left alone, creates a generation of cynics and nihilists, who might well see the gods of consumerism as the destructive idols they are, but lack the moral imagination to offer any alternative.  The results aren’t pretty, as indicated by declining marriage and birthrates, and rises in rates of addictive and destructive behaviors.  We need compelling alternatives.

This, for me, is what makes the Gospel so compelling.  Far from being some sort of limp, ‘get out of hell for free’ card, the central theme of the gospel is that in a world of failed narratives, God is inviting people to join Him in writing a better story, a robust, life giving alternative, on the pages of history.  Participants in this story take seriously God’s declaration that, in the resurrected Christ, a new world has begun because a new king and kingdom are now present.  It was the new king himself who reminded us of the important principles that will help us live into this far better story:

1. You can only have one allegiance - Jesus was clear that you can’t serve two masters, that Jesus can’t be your King and Ceasar also.  The entire New Testament is full of guidance about how to live in the midst of one kingdom while maintaining a clear and unswerving loyalty to another, higher, eternal King.  The notion that we can live in a paradigm of Jesus + Capitalism, or Jesus + Nationalism, or Jesus + Socialism, is entirely false.  No “ism” will ever bow to Christ, because all “isms”, from Adam Smith to Karl Marx declare themselves to be final solutions.  And in every case they fail to deliver.  So we vote, we participate in the civic world, as much as possible we obey civic authorities and pray for them.  But we know better than to believe that a change in parties is any sort of solution.

2. You should only have one obsession -When Jesus said “don’t worry about tomorrow” he used a word for worry that means “to be divided”, which is a way of saying that when we’re trying to find our role in the story of hope God is writing in the world, AND we’re also trying to buy into the pursuit of the consumerist American dream, or any other dream, we’ll be hopelessly divided, and the results will not be pretty.  Like an artist obsessed with his subject (as I write about in the Colors of Hope), we must pay close attention to the values of the kingdom so that we can make them visible on the canvass of our lives.  When we do this, the colors of generosity, justice, celebration, simplicity, joy, hospitality, bleed together creating a unique expression of Christ in each of us.  When we do this together… it’s called church.

3. You’re an artist – so get on with it. The best reasons to believe are, for me anyway, always rooted in the colors of hope I see painted on the canvass of other lives.  Whether it’s Gahigi in Rwanda and the countless stories in the stunning book, “As We Forgive”, or beautiful lives like Sophie Scholl‘s or Paul Brand‘s, I know that the pages of history are painted with the colors of hope.  Those colors exist as a foretaste of a world that will, someday, burst forth with these colors painting over all injustice, and oppression, and rape and violence, and environmental degradation.

That’s a world I want to be a part of it and the incredible news is that world has begun already, and I’ve a role to play, by being a unique expression of hope.  Finding that expression and living into it is the only thing that matters.  So, even though it’s an election year, I’m not losing sleep over who wins, because the reality is that, whoever’s in power, I serve a different, better king, one who, as Handel reminds us: “…shall reign forever and ever” To which I can only respond:  Hallelujah!

IMPORTANT:  I happy to share that my book “The Colors of Hope” won Christianity Today’s selection for Best Book 2011, in the “Christian Living Category”.  It’s FREE ON MAY 1st as a kindle download, and the study guide is free here (it makes a great group study)  Enjoy!  And please share the news with your friends.

The Empire Has No Clothes – raw truth precedes real hope – Part One

Pick your emperor: It's the same empire

The losses and damages characteristic of our present economy cannot be stopped, let alone restored, by “liberal” or “conservative” tweakings of corporate industrialism, against which the ancient imperatives of good care, homemaking, and frugality can have no standing. – Wendell Berry

Now that Mitt Romney has effectively vanquished all other contenders, the real election posturing can begin, and we all know it won’t be pretty.  More importantly though, we also know it won’t be true, or at the least very little of it will be true.  We’ll be promised a brighter tomorrow if we stay on the present path of growing government in order to offer systemic help to the downtrodden.  We’ll also be told that the way forward requires shrinking the government and deepening the pockets of wealthy industrialists so that they, stripped of environmental, finance, and other forms of regulations will be free to “grow the economy”.  Promises?  Lies actually.

Unspoken is the reality that the developed world has enthroned ‘economic growth’ as its deity, and both parties are equally guilty.  We will, for the next few months, be engaged in a dialogue about which party or leader can best serve this false god, but in either case, the goal is enable us to consume more, travel more, work more.  We’re trying to right the ship of the global economy, rather than asking where the ship’s going, or if, perhaps, there’s a more systemic reason for it’s sinking than merely Greek debt, or global terror.  Still enthroned in the minds of most (and surely both political parties), is the notion that the best future is more robust consumerist version of the present.

Two readings yesterday reminded otherwise:

Psalm 122 reminds me that we’re made for “shalom”.  We translate the word as “peace” in English, but that’s sorely inadequate because our notions of peace have been reduced, largely, to absence of conflict, in the same way that health has been redefined as absence of disease.  I can find mere ‘peace’, at least for the moment, by building big fences, gated communities, and having the biggest military budget on the planet as a means of protecting my stuff.  But let’s not confuse that with ‘shalom’, which envisions a robust wellness, rooted in justice, hospitality, and an ecological interdependency between the earth and all its creatures.  Shalom requires sharing with the poor.  Shalom requires caring for immigrant.  Shalom requires generosity, and recognizing the limits of growth, one of which is embodied in the call to sabbath and jubilee.  When this works properly, everyone has a calling/vocation that contributes to the common good.  People’s lives aren’t enslaved to mind numbing or body destroying work which fills the pockets of the few while the many remain trapped, through debt and poverty.

If I take shalom seriously, I need to take the well being of everyone seriously, and seen through that lens, I realize that both parties, well funded by multi-national corporations, are painting a future that remains fundamentally unchanged, where consumerism is king, and we are all recruited to define the good life as accumulating consumers primarily, and as worker bees to keep the fuels of consuming stoked, secondarily.  The cost of this vision for the planet and all it’s inhabitants should make us shudder.

This, no matter who wins, is so far from God’s vision of shalom for both land and people as to be unrecognizable.

Wendell Berry’s Speech – Berry, the poet/farmer, gave the distinguished “Jefferson Lecturer” speech this year, the full transcript of which can be read here.  He opens the speech by talking about his grandfather’s excitement, in 1907, the night before he was to take his tobacco crop to auction.  Regarding the day after the auction, Berry writes:

He came home that evening, as my father later would put it, “without a dime.” After the crop had paid its transportation to market and the commission on its sale, there was nothing left. Thus began my father’s lifelong advocacy, later my brother’s and my own, and now my daughter’s and my son’s, for small farmers and for land-conserving economies.

The problem was the rise of industrial farming, and the American Tobacco Company, owned by James B. Duke (of Duke University fame), which systematically worked to absorb small farms.  The demise, though, of “small” meant the demise of the quality care which nurtures the land.  The “big company” thinks of immediate profit and efficiency as both opportunity and necessity, but at what cost?

Berry: It may seem plausible to suppose that the head of the American Tobacco Company would have imagined at least that a dependable supply of raw material to his industry would depend upon a stable, reasonably thriving population of farmers and upon the continuing fertility of their farms. But he imagined no such thing. In this he was like apparently all agribusiness executives. They don’t imagine farms or farmers. They imagine perhaps nothing at all, their minds being filled to capacity by numbers leading to the bottom line. Though the corporations, by law, are counted as persons, they do not have personal minds, if they can be said to have minds. It is a great oddity that a corporation, which properly speaking has no self, is by definition selfish, responsible only to itself. This is an impersonal, abstract selfishness, limitlessly acquisitive, but unable to look so far ahead as to preserve its own sources and supplies. The selfishness of the fossil fuel industries by nature is self-annihilating; but so, always, has been the selfishness of the agribusiness corporations.

There is no shalom in the sort of short term consolidation and then rape, of either land or small businesses, that are only doing what capitalism does: maximize efficiency and profit at all costs, including long term costs to both sustainable ecological systems, and the well being of families.

Until I’m willing to see both the idolatry and insufficiency of the present “McWorld” system, I’ll also fail to see the radically hopeful nature of the gospel, which provides an exit strategy from these false hopes as it invites us into so much more than a ticket to heaven.  Until I see the present systems for the oppressors they are, though, I’ll continue to hope that a tweaking, a party change, a debt reduction, the demise or solidification of a new health system, will solve the problem.

No.  The solution is smaller and grander, more radical or more hopeful, than we’ve perhaps ever thought.  And it begins with us turning away from the false promises of the empire, and living into our calling as disciples.

Tomorrow… Living into the “Yes” of God’s better story

I welcome your thoughts…

Hope and Laughter – Yours for the Thaw

thaw - the sun will win

I’m driving east today from Seattle, into the mountains for some R&R (Reading & wRiting).  I’ve been east often during this past ski season, often enough to watch the snow pile up, to watch upper story windows become encased in snow.  Up in these coastal mountains, most of that rain that famously falls in Seattle comes down as snow, creating tons of beauty.  Still, enough is enough, and one begins to wonder, with the white stuff still falling in late March, when this frozen beauty will be released to water the earth.

“It’s been coming down without sinking in – for months now” I think to myself as I ponder the parallels between this all this snow and our souls which are o-so-slow to receive some of that which we need to sustain our life of joy, and hope, and healing, and progressive transformation. We can show up day after day to hear God’s voice, but like so much snow, it can, and does, fail to penetrate our cold hearts.  We begin to wonder if it’s worth it, if all this ‘showing up’ isn’t just creating a big white out that’s killing our capacity to enjoy life.  It’s discouraging to people.  It’s discouraging to pastors too (who are also usually people, but you get my point).

“Nothing’s changing” we say to ourselves.  Circumstances?  Emotional blockage?  Cynicism?  Fear?  Shame?  Yep – still there.  “Screw this” is sometimes the next response as people head to the desert, metaphorically, where they’ll be released, at least, from the frustrations of expecting change, and finding sameness.  The desert promises nothing, if not sameness.  Yes, that’s where we’ll go – a little vacation from the God who showers us with snow. We call this backsliding for some reason.

I’m thinking about all this when I round a bend in the road and find, cutting right through the mounds of snow, a gigantic waterfall, relentlessly melting the frozen landscape to reveal a waiting earth beneath.  I smile.  “Spring”.  Then there’s another, and another, and another one after that – thick, powerful, eager, relentlessly melting to water the earth that’s been waiting since sometime last Thanksgiving for the life giving stuff.  My smile becomes pure joy, and soon I find myself, against all notions of propriety, laughing, and shouting “marvelous” right there in the car on the way to some R&R.

Yes.

Isaiah talks about all this.  “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, And do not return there without watering the earth And making it bear and sprout, And furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater ; So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth. It will not return to Me empty”.  I love that God’s word comes to us as rain, received fully by parched hearts that desperately need what God is offering us right in that exact moments.  I love, even more, that the Word comes as snow during those seasons when our hearts are to cold to receive.  We’re not ready, or willing, or able sometimes, to receive what God has for us.  Instead of vaporizing us in anger, I love the promise of Isaiah, that we can rest in the truth that the word comes as rain and snow.  Sometimes we receive it immediately, and sometimes not.  The thaw will come though, and when it does, there’ll be a few drops at first, but eventually it will be more – it will be a waterfall, refreshing and invigorating our parched hearts.

For Pastors, teachers, spouses, counselors, and all you caring types:

Keep pouring it on.  Keep preaching, serving, counseling, caring, loving – when people respond, and when they don’t.  You’re the cloud, and you don’t know whether your offering will be snow or rain in any given place.  You do know this much though:  The water won’t be wasted! When the time is right, thawed souls will be able to receive your contribution, one month or ten years later, or even fifty.  Relax.  Your just the cloud, pouring out the water.

For all of us:

I know about the frozen soul.  I know the value of showing up for coffee with God, even when the entire enterprise feels like a waste of time because my soul’s so cold.  I know, because the thaw always comes eventually, and when it does there are smiles, joy, laughter.  Nothing’s wasted after all!

God of all seasons

When our hearts are eager, you saturate us with your life giving truth, who is the Christ.  Thank you.

When our hearts are frozen, you appear as snow, which accumulates for later.  Thank you.

When our hearts are warm, the thaw begins, and the beauty, power, and abundance of it all can only make us sing with joy.  Thank you for this too.

May we keep showing up in all seasons confident that, whether we’re able to receive it in the moment or not, you too are showing up!

Amen

PS… check back tomorrow for more pictures of the thaw.