We Are Creatures

We often think of creatures as awful things. A creature is a creepy crawly thing. We often use the word, “creature,” in a sentence much like the following: “What is that hideous creature!” If we are not referring to worms, spiders, or some other generally detestable thing, the word “creature” is usually analogous to the word, “monster.” So to refer to a human being as a creature is thought to be an insult of some kind. Perhaps if someone called you a creature, you'd think that person was trying to say you are either ugly, evil, or good-for-nothing.

I'm here to tell you that you are a creature. I'm a creature, too. We're all creatures. And there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's pretty awesome to be a creature. Better to know that you are a creature than to think that you're not.

I'm sure many of you know that the root of the word, “creature,” is “create.” In essence, the definition of “creature” is, in my own words, “an animate creation.” A creature is a creation that can move, perhaps make noise; a creation that has life. To say that something is a creature is not a moral commentary of any kind. Creatures are not by definition ugly, evil, or good-for-nothing. A creature is simply something that has its origin in the work of someone or something. To say that humans are creatures, then, is simply to say that we were given life by someone or something.

Rudolf Otto was a philosopher of religion that wrote the book, The Idea of the Holy, and he argued that the ultimate source of peace, confidence, strength, enlightenment, and love is the acknowledgment that we are creatures. Otto argued that all cultures throughout time have had some “creature-consciousness.” In other words, that somewhere in our conscious minds and hearts we have a sense that there is something bigger than us that created us and gave us life. It is that creature-consciousness that, if we are aware of it, leads us through reflection to an awareness of God's presence. We can only be aware of God's presence, though, if we are first aware that we are creatures, that something hovers above and around us powerfully and mysteriously, mysteriously and powerfully.

There is nothing lowly nor demeaning in admitting that we are creatures. We are freed by that admission. We are God's creatures. Let's admit that. If we choose to think that we are not creatures, that we are independent beings who have given ourselves worth, then we ignore at least part of the love and mercy that God reaches out to us. Think of your parents. Some of you might not have great relationships with your parents, but I hope that we can all realize that no relationship is possible with our parents if we say to them, “You didn't create me. You had little to do with me or for me. I'm free of you.” All possibility of relationship would end the second you said that. The same is true with God. If in your heart you think, “I am free. I'm not a creature. I'm not lowly enough for that,” you sever some of the connection you can have with our heavenly Parent.

We are God's creatures. Think of how awesome that is. The one who created the universe, the world, and all things in it, created you, you personally, to have relationship with you. You are of divine origin. You are a divine creature. We are also human, yes. We all have our faults, but we cannot change the fact that God created us. From a divine source we come. To a divine purpose we are called. If we are not creatures, then we are only human. No part divine, no divine source, no divine calling, nothing but our human wretchedness.

Remember, you are a creature, a creation, of God. Jesus Christ came into the world to die for our sins, but He also came to open the path for us to attain our divine origin and calling. Feel free to awaken yourselves to that truth, to your divine origin, and reconnect fully with our Father, the parent of us all.

Jesus Heals

Luke 17:11-19

I encourage you to read the passage. If you are lazy at the moment, then I hope my saying that this is the story in which Jesus heals ten lepers, but only one, a Samaritan, returns to Jesus to thank Him and give Him praise. The focal point of the story seems to be the fact that a Samaritan, not the other nine Israelites, praises Jesus as the Savior. I want to focus on something slightly different. I want to focus on a possible reason why the nine Israelites did not return to praise Jesus and thank Him.

Though all of the ten lepers called out to Jesus, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!," all claiming Jesus to be something special by using, "Master," only one of them returns to thank him. That's an incredible thing. All of them claim him as master to be healed, but only one still claims him as master after being healed. Surely, this story is one that expresses the universal saving ministry of Jesus, he wasn't the Savior only for Jews. At the same time, this story is a good example of human nature. Do we not ask for things from God, desperately claiming that we'd do anything for Him if we are granted our prayer, and then do not return Him thanks?

I hope that I'm not unusual, I hope that I'm not the only person who asks and asks of God in prayer but then, upon getting what I want, forget that it was God who gave me what I asked for. We pray to God... so that we can continue living on the way we want to. We so often don't actually care about God or a relationship with our heavenly Father. We care about getting what we want.

There's nothing wrong with asking God for things that we want (unless it's world domination or something). But the key is that we remain close to God. We need to keep our relationship with our Father a close one. We pray to God out of closeness, and then we praise God out of closeness. We should not run away and go our own way. The things we are given are only worthwhile for our ultimate happiness if we live in relationship with God.

Notice in verse 12: Luke tells us that the lepers kept their distance from Jesus as they asked him for healing. Why are they keeping their distance? One might argue that they didn't want to infect Jesus with the disease. But that doesn't make any sense. If they believed in Jesus' healing powers, would they not want to get as close to Jesus as possible? Would they not flock around him, believing that they'd be healed by Jesus rather than infecting Jesus?

The real issue here is not the universal ministry of Jesus. That's a big part of it, because clearly it matters that it was a Samaritan that returned to praise Jesus. But the real issue is that the other nine lepers did not actually believe in Jesus. Sure, they may have called him Master, but they did not believe that he was Master of anything. The lepers kept their distance from Jesus and didn't return to praise him. It seems to me that if people don't really believe in Jesus, they'd think that healing that occurs is of their own doing, or some natural occurrence. The lepers, not believing in Jesus, only cautiously approached what, I imagine, they thought of as a "so-called Master."

Jesus is not a "so-called Master." He is our Master, our Savior. Believe in him. Do not cautiously approach Christ, our Redeemer. Stay near to him, never leave him. He heals and he raises from the dead. Let not your faith waver, and let not the gracious gifts of God go unpraised.

(didn't realize Jesus healed them... and how they remain away from Jesus when they cry out to Him)

What is a Pastor's Job, Really?

I've spent most of my life thinking that the pastor's job is to be the one who runs the church, performs the worship service, and occasionally take care of parishioners, and maybe some other stuff. Obviously, that is probably a good, though rather short, summary of what a pastor's job is. Many of you may want to ask, “Well what the heck else is there that the pastor does?” Essentially, nothing. In general, what the pastor does is very tangible and/or definable.

But we often ignore what the pastor's job really is, and in the process we often miss the true purpose of worshiping in church on Sunday. First of all, the pastor isn't filling a job. Sure, everyone has certain expectations of a pastor that they need to be aware of. At the end of the day, though, a pastor is called to fulfill a vocation. What's the difference between a job and a vocation? By definition, nothing. I draw a distinction between job and vocation because I tend to think that our understanding of “job” as a set of requirements to satisfy and once we've satisfied them we won't think about doing anything more, whereas a vocation to me is an abstract principle.

Let me quickly expand a little to explain what I mean. Every job has both a “job” and a “vocation.” For instance, a bookseller's job is to sell books, perhaps to take care of customers so well that the bookseller convinces people to buy more books. A bookseller's vocation, though, whether or not the bookseller thinks of it that way, is to increase the literacy of society, literacy in language and in literature. Certainly, some booksellers arrive at their job simply because that job was available and may not care what their vocation is. But the end result of selling books is the vocation: increasing the literacy of society. So we can think of one's vocation as the desired end of what we do, and one's job as the specifics we must do to achieve that desired end.

What is the pastor's desired end? What is the pastor's vocation? What does a pastor actually do? In all that they do, pastors are meant to create an atmosphere in which parishioners can experience God. A pastor's job is not to make people happy or to make the hour we spend on Sundays as enjoyable, as tolerable, as possible. Hopefully that's included in helping people experience God. But at the heart of a pastor's vocation is creating a holy atmosphere in which parishioners can hopefully say, “Today I experienced the love of Christ.”

No pastor should ever think, “I do such and such for the people of my congregation.” And no congregation should think, “Our pastor does such and such for us.” Yeah, “pastor” carries a job description, but focusing on the specifics of what a pastor does misses what a pastor actually does. A pastor's vocation is far more important a thing to focus on. And at the heart of it all, a pastor lets the Spirit work through them so that others may experience the eternal love of our Father.

That should have implications for those of us who sit in the pews on Sunday. We should not sit in church watching how well the pastor molds a worship service, how good of a sermon the pastor preaches, or hoping that the music can energize us enough to get us through the service. Let us put faith that our pastors are creating for us a space to experience God, and so let us glory in the presence of our beloved Father, no matter how well the pastor fulfills their “job.”

Atheists: Faith Doesn't Matter

One of the first questions I hear atheists asking in a discussion on faith is, "What if you're wrong?" That question is generally followed by, "Why do you deny yourself certain life pleasures just because your religion says so? Won't you feel like you missed out on a lot in life if you die and found out you're wrong? Since we can't know, we might as well enjoy ourselves as much as we can."

I can certainly answer by saying that we do know God exists, or respond by turning around and asking, "Yeah, but what if you're wrong? God will be pretty darn mad." I won't do that, though. Those responses are inconclusive and leave both parties saying, "Well, I guess it just comes down to what we believe and what we don't." Of course, everything comes down to whether we have faith or not. There's really no point in arguing for the existence of God or arguing in defense of faith because arguments won't convince anyone, only faith will.

I will argue in defense of the principles of religion, though. I'll do so because it doesn't matter if we as Christians are right. It doesn't matter if we believe in a God that doesn't actually exist. It doesn't matter if all of our religion, and all of other religions, were simply man-made creations. In short, it doesn't matter if we have faith or not, the principles of religion do matter and are good for us nonetheless.

Now, a lot of people might think I'm a terrible person for saying that faith doesn't matter in any way, shape or form, or in any context. Before I continue, then, I'll make clear that I'm not saying faith in God doesn't matter. It does. Without faith in God we have no reason to be in relationship with Him, and relationship with our Father in heaven is the only thing that will bring us the inner joy we're meant to experience. All I'm saying is that faith doesn't matter in the context of whether or not the principles of religion are right and good for us. I'm responding to the question, "What if you're wrong?" And my answer is, "It doesn't matter if I'm wrong. I'm still living the best possible way."

First of all, I'm not living up to the principles of my religion, I'm just trying really hard to. Secondly, what do I mean by the principles of my religion? I mean those principles we are told to live by, namely the Ten Commandments, loving all our brothers and sisters on this earth, sexual morality, and loving God, ourselves, and others above all else, which in some denominations means no drinking alcohol, giving significant time and money to serving the poor and oppressed, avoiding gluttony, avoiding bad/immoral speech, and spending time in prayer and devotion. Personally I believe all those principles should be included in every denomination.

Sexual morality is a big one in there. It's most often in regards to sex that people ask, "What's wrong with you? What if you're wrong?" I'm sure sex is extremely pleasurable, but my faith tells me to wait until I'm married. And if I don't marry, no sex. Even for those who haven't had sex it's oftentimes hard for people to imagine how one can go through life purposely retaining one's virginity. Generally, people who aren't guided by faith couldn't care less.

I tell you, though, that regardless of whether you have faith or not, the principles of religion will increase the amount of peace and joy in your life. God doesn't want to deny us anything that would be good for us, He wants the best for us. The best for us, as individuals and as a community, includes all the things I listed above.

In terms of sex: females especially feel an incredible amount of turmoil that she wouldn't have ordinarily if a relationship ends that was sexually active. Whether we want to admit it or not, we give of ourselves a little bit to every sexual partner we have. So when that person is no longer in our lives, we've lost something. Furthermore, every time we engage in sexual activities with someone we don't love with our entire being we degrade the act of sex. Obviously you can say that doesn't matter because it still feels good. Sure, it still feels good, but having sex with your spouse will not be nearly as special as it should be if you have already had sex. Why does that matter? Well, from Genesis to Jesus we're told that man and woman are meant to be one flesh. Marriage is what reunites us together, man and woman, and transforms us into one being, our total being. Some of us are called to remain single, but for the rest of us only marriage can fulfill us. If we experience elements of marriage before we're actually married then that union cannot be truly complete.

If you've had sex before marriage, I'm not condemning you. I'm not trying to make you hopeless. What I'm saying is that the things that God has told us to do are what will bring us the most peace, joy, and contentment in the long run. We shouldn't live righteously simply because we believe in God and He tells us to. We shouldn't live righteously simply to make our separation from others more clear. No, we should live rightly because it's good for us. That's why God has worked so hard to tell us to live a certain way. If we do, we'll be more at more peace with our life. Faith doesn't matter. Living rightly, in the manner that Christians say we should, is always the best thing for us, even when it doesn't seem good at all. It's not best for us just because we have faith.

The thing is, though, that same peace and contentment can simply come from having faith and a relationship with our Father. In that sense, faith does matter. Others who don't believe must follow the law closely to be righteous and find the same peace that we receive simply by having a relationship with our loving and forgiving Father in heaven.

The Catholic Church

The Roman Catholic Church is perhaps the most antagonized denomination in Christianity, perhaps the most antagonized element of all religion. Many of Rome's positions upset our social understandings of equality, rights, or tolerance. Simply, they're not progressive enough. And the amount of control exercised in the Roman Catholic hierarchy is often terrifying, especially to those of us who live in the United States where individual liberty is such a highly respected ideal.

What the Roman Catholic Church as going for it, though, is that its members are committed to a universal church of the faithful. Many Catholic congregants will privately tell you that they disagree with this and that position of the Pope but they will still live within the doctrines of the Church out of respect for the church universal, the worldwide faithful, which includes the many mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers of the faithful who have long since passed away from our earthly world. Public indignation and open disobedience toward the Roman Catholic Church are very rarely displayed by its own members.

I am not writing in favor of the Roman Catholic Church, though I could do that if I so chose. Instead, I'm writing in favor of the catholic church, the little c version. The catholic church as in the church universal. I am a United Methodist, so my discussion will reflect issues harboring in the United Methodist church, but one could probably insert another denomination of choice whenever I say, "United Methodist."

The United Methodist Church, as with all denominations, asks of us our commitment to the church universal. Many in the church take that to mean public and indignant disapproval of the United Methodist Discipline (the book of our doctrines and practices) that amounts to intellectual, if not actual and physical, disobedience to the foundational and guiding document of our faith, not to mention the tradition handed down to us from our faithful mothers and fathers. Our particular difficulty at the moment is the acceptance of homosexuality. Personally I affirm what the Discipline currently says on the issue, which is that while we no doubt should love and welcome homosexuals, the practice of homosexuality is "incompatible with Christian teaching." That decision has been reached through the reflective discussion of a community of the faithful throughout history.

I want to be clear. I'm not in favor of an unchanging, unquestionable human structure that calls itself "religion" in the name of control, especially a control that is oppressive or unjust. Our faith in Christ calls us to love and equality. Even so, when we speak and act out against the church we have committed to and devoted our membership to, we need to be careful.

We first need to be careful because if we commit to our own arrogance that we individually know better than the church united throughout history, our attitude and position threatens to divide the church irreparably and create the Once-United Methodist Church. Our mission is to be faithful disciples of Christ. Perhaps unfortunately, we don't unanimously agree on how to be faithful disciples. Let us not assume that "clearly" the United Methodist Church's doctrines should change because they are currently somehow inadequate. Let us not assume that "clearly" where we individually see the United Methodist Church lacking that all other members should or do see things our way. We must seek improvement in Christian brotherhood and sisterhood, gently and calmly, so that the Holy Spirit has room to move. Perhaps we who seek improvement in our church's doctrines and practices are wrong. If we seek improvement gently, then the Spirit has the opportunity to tell us that, in fact, the current doctrines of the church are the reflection of God's call for His people. In the same way, if improvements are sought gently (and resistance to change performed gently) then changes are much less likely to create a new branch of the church. And we who agree with the current iteration of the Discipline should take any changes with a calm spirit, believing that discussions done in a gentle spirit will always reflect the wishes and calling of God.

We should also be careful, and here I would like to add some emphasis, because of the existence of our Holy Scriptures. If we believe that changes should be made to the United Methodist Church, what basis do we have? Are we saying that changes need to be made to keep up with the trends of society? Has society shown us better ways to incorporate love and wholeness into our lives than Scripture does? Is Scripture inadequate? Are we saying that the 2,000 year history of Christian churches have gotten it wrong and suddenly the cultures of the last half-century have found a better way of living? Yes, appropriate changes to our faith have been made so that our churches and our individual understandings are more in tune with Scripture. But by changing our stance on homosexuality, are we becoming any more faithful to the witness of God through Christ?

Again, our interpretations of Scripture invariably differ. But Christ does say that marriage is between a man and a woman to become one flesh, a repetition of our Genesis story. If Christ is wrong, if St. Paul and our other biblical witnesses are all wrong, then how do we determine authority? When do we say Scripture is a faithful witness of God's call to our lives and when it's not? Who gets to make that decision?

You see, the second we say that Christ got something wrong, we run into issues of authority. We then put our own individual and cultural understandings above the text we all have said, as Christians, to be our primary witness. Let's not worship the Bible. But let's take it seriously.

Changes may need to be made to the United Methodist Church and other denominations, but we need to be careful. We need to be slow and gentle, letting the Holy Spirit guide us. And we need to consider what source is guiding our inspiration: society or Scripture, personal convictions or revelation of God. Most of all, we need to understand the importance of a catholic church. I will not say, "If you don't like it, find a denomination that will." Our personal convictions and varying compromises with society have led to enough division in our catholic church that has damaged our credibility to the world and our sense of familial love.

The Bike Journey

I must admit, most of what I'm saying here was stolen from a conversation I had with the pastor that I'm currently interning for at University UMC at College Park. Regardless, everything is an original thought, just for you, my beloved readers.

As most young males my age who grew up riding a bike, coming into maturity brings a crisis. Do I continue riding a one-speed, BMX bike as I have all my life and just deal with how bad they are in terms of speed and distance, do I stop riding a bike altogether, or do I invest lots of money in a road or mountain bike? Unless you are one of the rare few who can make a living racing or doing tricks on a BMX bike, this question is almost universal to all young males who ever owned a bike.

Most people choose to give up riding a bike altogether. BMX bikes are too slow and too hard to ride more than a couple of miles if hills are involved. The comfort and convenience of a car is clearly preferred. But some of us are dedicated to saving the environment, or getting as much exercise as possible, or having our own physical effort blow wind in our face and give us the rush of flying down a hill.

For the second group (which obviously can and often does include females. I talk of young males simply because riding a BMX bike is often a sign of "cool"ness in our younger years and most of us in suburbia own a bike at some point in our lives), riding a bike becomes a somewhat serious endeavor. There are some of those really dedicated riders who buy special riding clothes and go out for 40 mile bike rides simply to have "fun." Honestly, I will never be one of those people. I sweat too profusely for that to ever be enjoyable and I don't like pushing my body to its limits. Riding a bike is extremely enjoyable, though. But to get to a point where you can ride 10, 15, 20, 25 miles in one sitting, you have to possess some riding skill.

For me, my love of God's Creation is what convinces me to hop on my bike whenever possible. Others really love getting exercise. Mountain bikers live for the top of a mountain (or, for the really adventurous, they live for the bottom of a mountain). Having a real solid motivation for finishing out the bike ride is the first key, the first element to riding skill. Without a firm belief in what you're doing you'll never finish. The same is true in this life of faith. If we don't spend the time talking to God and reflecting on our relationship with Him, and truly enjoying our time with Him, then our faith will be the first thing to run into trouble when our life finds a crisis to wallow in. We could probably say that about any relationship, let alone our relationship with God. If we think we love a girlfriend or boyfriend but haven't ensured that our love is true, solid, and whole, then we better watch out for the first fight. If you want to have a meaningful, peaceful, joyful relationship with God, don't take it for granted. There is no way I could have survived my 20 mile bike ride the other day if I had simply one day woken up and decided to start riding a bike instead of driving my car. Every time I get on my bike (Cato is his name) I ask myself if saving the environment really means enough for me to tire out my body. I take a few minutes of silence, and if the answer isn't a very firm yes, I just don't go out that day. We've got to really want our relationship with God. It's a two-way street, and we have to do our part, we have to put in our time. It wouldn't matter how much I care about the environment if I didn't put time and effort into doing something about it, because if I didn't, I'd still be doing my part to destroy our lovely home.

The faith lessons we can learn from riding a bike don't stop there. Those of you who don't do much biking may be able to understand the need for a real solid motivation when biking. The thought of riding long distances can be intimidating, so clearly one needs an unwavering motivation. The other elements of biking skills may need to be taken on trust. If that is the case, I promise you can trust me.

Maybe I'm the only one who watches the Tour de France. If you ever have, though, you may have been confused by some of the announcers' comments, such as, "So and so has better mechanics than such and such." At first I asked, "All they are doing is pedaling. Isn't the only difference how powerful their legs are?" With more experience I realized that's not at all a good question. Particularly with mountain biking, balance is absolutely essential. You don't want to hit a tree stump or fall unexpectedly into a ditch with an off-balance bike. Trust me, the results aren't pretty. Even with road biking, though, if you don't keep the bike balanced you lose a lot of energy. Often bikers will pedal as hard as they can and the bike will lean back and forth, as if it were on a pendulum. I don't mean that the bike isn't going straight. The biker just lets the bike tilt from a lean toward the left pedal, then the right pedal, then the left, so on. One can hardly blame the biker for doing that. It's easier to push down hard on the pedal when you lean to one side. But if you were to pedal with the same rhythm and strength without leaning at all, you'd find that you can ride the same distance faster and without exerting the same amount of energy.

Let's think about that real quick. Without balance, it doesn't matter how hard the biker pedals, they will always lose speed and energy. Interesting. I bet you can see where I'm going with this. Yes, obviously, leg muscles are a huge factor in biking fast and far, but without balance you won't ever reach your full potential. And without balance, you'll always finish the ride totally exhausted. Balance is necessary in our faith journey as well. You'll lose steam if you push hard in one area of your life to the exclusion of others, and then push hard in some other area of your life, and then push hard in yet another, all the while focusing with all your available energy on only one area of your life. That will tire you out quickly and require lots of rejuvenation... or might lead some to drop certain activities when it's not necessary to do so. Balance all things, knowing that God is pleased and with us when we are calm and centered. When we've been riding for an hour or more balance is hard to come by. We want to put everything we have into every pedal and that means leaning a bit, if not a lot. That's another spot where a solid motivation keeps us going. At the ironic moment when we think we can't go any longer and start riding in such a way that drains us of our energy even faster, a solid motivation can solidify our concentration and focus to allow us to remain balanced even when we're exhausted because instead of thinking, "Geez, I just need to get through this," we're thinking, "I'm doing this for all the right reasons, so I'm getting at least some pleasure from this pain."

One last comment on the lessons of bike riding. I could go on for a lot longer on the subject, but I won't. I'll let you hop on your own bike and reflect on it. Here we go. On a road or mountain bike, the higher gear means it will be harder to pedal, but it also means that each rotation of the pedals takes you farther. Sort of like a car: 2,500 revolutions per minute in 2nd gear doesn't result in as high a speed as 2,500 rpm in 4th gear. The problem with driving a car, though, is that we as the driver aren't necessarily privy to how much harder 4th gear is on the car. On a bike it's hard to miss the difference. 7th gear is much harder than 3rd gear. Most people hop on a bike, realize that the first few gears are easy and not letting them feel the wind on their face, and push into 6th, 7th, 8th gears. At first they feel a little stress in their legs but think it's no big deal. After five minutes they start thinking differently. Granted, they may have reached some high speeds, but the tortoise wins the race. If you're feeling pain in your legs you better be near the end of your ride or get in a lower gear. High speeds are only temporary if you can't do it with some ease. Clearly, then, we must learn to slow down. No matter how sure we are that we are called by God to a certain project or lifestyle, we must bike the race at a pace comfortable to us until we can build up some endurance, or else we'll burn out too quickly and take decades rather than a few years to achieve goals. Over a thirty mile trek, someone riding at a speed at the cusp of what's comfortable for them will always arrive before someone riding as fast as their legs will allow at all times. The latter will need a thousand breaks and eventually even a 3rd or 2nd gear may bring immense pain. Let's learn to love the length of life God has given us. He wouldn't call us to a task that we don't have time for. So let's take our time, be comfortable, enjoy the sights, and love our conversations along the way. And also, let us know that God wants to spend time with us without demanding that we accomplish certain tasks to earn His love. Whatever we are called to, it's so others may know how much God loves them, not so that He will love us for doing something good.

I encourage you to get on a bike. Sweat a little. Pretend you're Lance Armstrong. Feel your legs ache. Save God's Creation. Most of all, though, get on the bike and reflect on how it's a mini-metaphor for our life with God. Maybe you can even think of the bike you ride as God, if it helps. Peace.

Clouds in the Mountains

I recently returned from a hiking trip that my father, good friend (Calvin) and I had been planning for months and heavily anticipated. The hike was not supposed to be particularly long nor difficult, but because it traversed the popular presidential range in New Hampshire's White Mountains, we needed to reserve our spots in the huts many months beforehand. The huts are necessary unless you plan to hike the entire range in one day, which would be quite a feat, because camping above the alpine zone would be your only other option, which is both illegal and rather dangerous. So, while by necessity we had to plan our trip months ahead of time, the hike wasn't particularly anything special. Countless hikers with various experience hike the same trail of approximately 23 miles and eight presidential mountains, all well over 4,000 feet and six over 5,000 feet, including the tallest and most famous mountain east of the Mississippi River, Mount Washington.

Whatever special feelings one might experience on the hike are due mostly to psychological factors. One must plan months ahead of time to reserve a spot in the huts. That period of waiting creates a very intense knot of expectation in the hiker disproportionate to the length and difficulty of the hike (though, if I can do some bragging, an inexperienced hiker or one not in good shape will dream of a nice soft bed during the hike). In addition to that, you are well-aware the entire hike that you are scaling what is widely regarded as the hardest range of mountains on the Appalachian Trail; a significant percentage of the 40 4,000 foot mountains in New Hampshire; and one of the most famous mountains in the country. One cannot help but feel satisfied when they arrive at the Lake of the Clouds hut (named for the rather large lake one finds near the hut, over 5,000 feet above sea level), pick a book off the shelf of the library there, and realize that they are now reading a book from the highest library east of the Mississippi. Of course, the psychological wonder created by the waiting period and the checking off of various achievements on the hiker's bucket list is not the only reason why hiking the presidential range is so popular.

The advertised views one can see from the presidential peaks (by the way, it's called the presidential range because it includes Mts. Washington, Jefferson, Eisenhower, Madison, Monroe, Franklin, Pierce, Jackson, and some others) and the ridges connecting them are breath-taking. Not the least of which is the view from Mount Washington, which on a good day can extend to around 200 miles each direction. All-in-all, a hiker prepares for a hike along the presidential range expecting a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

I spend so much time detailing the hike that I went on because I'm long-winded. You should know this by now if you've read my other posts. I also want you to get a feel for how special the hike can be to anyone who cares about scaling mountains either as a physical activity or an emotional/spiritual one, or both. For me, my love of hiking is inherently a spiritual one intimately connected to my love of Creation. It was just over two years ago that I first watched Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth. We can argue about the science involved in that movie (which I might do in a later post), but it struck a chord in my soul and I was launched into a crash course in appreciating the world God has given us and a developing sense of how to better take care of the environment. It was only one year ago that I first went on a hike of any length. I had realized that one way to take care of the environment is to stop engaging in activities that required the use of a car or any other form of energy and instead hop on my bike. Soon thereafter I realized that the most adventurous (and, clearly, the most fun) ways to enjoy my bike rides were to find trails in the woods. Very quickly my love and care for Creation turned into an obsession with using non-harmful modes of travel to experience the natural beauty and wonder all around us. Even if you understand hiking to be a purely physical activity, though, I hope that since you are reading this post on an explicitly religious blog the metaphor of climbing mountains is not lost on you.

As a metaphor, climbing mountains is nothing but spiritual. Time and again we hear from the stories and traditions handed down to us that living as a disciple of Christ is much like climbing a mountain: it can be extremely difficult and painful at times, if not all the time, but the mountaintop view we are promised is extraordinary. Perhaps the most vivid story that comes to my mind is Dante's Inferno, even though that story refers to the after-life. To reach the gates of heaven one must first climb a mountain and conquer the various sins.

When on my hike, I was struck with a somewhat damning question: how many of us have put in the effort of the climb without ever experiencing the promised mountaintop experience? I know at least a handful of Christians who have renounced the faith because they never experienced that unexplainable experience we so often talk about and sing about. Is our experiencing of that mountaintop greatness simply a matter of chance? a matter of the causally defined situation we find ourselves in and how we respond to it?

I found that I couldn't budge the questions for two reasons. First, as much as I care for and appreciate Creation, I have not once felt what I expected to at the top of a mountain or at the bottom of a brilliant waterfall. Certainly, the experience has been inspiring, but as far as I know I have not experienced God any more at the top of a mountain than I could walking down the street. I began to think that climbing mountains had become a drug for me: a certain feeling was promised me, but, since I had not attained it and the experience seemingly grew more plain, I searched harder and harder for that other-worldly experience. Second, we were graced on our hike with terrible weather.

Although the forecast promised us good weather, at least by day two, we encountered no good weather whatsoever. In fact, the weather worsened on day two. Imagine how hard it is to bear climbing mountains you've been planning to for months only to be unable to see anything because you are stuck in an unending cloud. Imagine how hard is to bear a 30-pound back and thousands of feet of elevation when you can't see anything. Imagine how hard is to bear when, not only can you not see any wonderful sights, but you struggle to see through the fog the next trail marker. Imagine how hard is to bear when you've climbed thousands of feet for hours and, instead of sitting on rocks and enjoying the view, you are crouched between rocks to shield yourself from the cold, blasting wind. We were even more cursed on our hike when we had a view of green down in the valley through the clouds for a few seconds. We thought it was a sign that the clouds were breaking as the forecast promised. In fact, no such thing was happening. The clouds and heavy wind would stay with us the entire way.

By dinner-time we arrived at the Lake of the Clouds hut. Unfortunately, we could only see about twenty feet of the lake. We had high hopes that the next morning we'd be able to see everything, as we were promised, and everything would be worth it. We awoke the next morning to some very troublesome news. The hut crew informed us that the wind chill had crept significantly below freezing, the wind had increased to 80-100 miles per hour at the top of Mount Washington (60-80 along the 5,000 foot high ridges that we would be on all day long), and visibility had shrunk to a maximum of 75 feet. In sum, if we decided to hike the 8 miles we had planned that day along the exposed ridges, up Mount Washington and 3 other mountains, we'd be hiking through conditions ripe for hypothermia if we were lucky and being swept off the mountain by a wind gust if we were fatally unlucky. Calvin and I desperately wanted to continue anyway, a third in hope that the clouds would clear at some point that day, a third because we had come far as it was and had waited so long to do the hike, and a third because risky yet calculated adventures are exciting to us. My father overruled us. Rather than continue we'd climb down the mountain and end our hike.

Now, here's where I get to the point of the story. My father's ruling that the weather was too dangerous to continue on disappointed Calvin and me without end. We actually briefly considered running off on our own. Looking back on it all I regret to say that the only thing that stopped me from going off on our own was that we realized my dad was our only way home. But Calvin had a better reason for dealing with our disappointment and heading down the mountain with my father. "We're a party," Calvin said, "we have to stick together." Calvin isn't exactly the type of person that you'd think would be guided in life by solid principles. As much as I know that not to be true, his comment still surprised me. I asked him why sticking together matters, and he replied, "Well, hiking alone can still be fun and enjoyable in many ways, but when you're this high up and exposed to the elements like this it becomes extremely dangerous to do anything slightly risky by yourself. But being a party is more than just a means to safety. When you head out in a group, you've made a commitment that you'll do the hike together. If one hiker slows down, we all slow down; if one hiker doesn't feel comfortable fighting the weather, then we all feel uncomfortable. That's just the way it is."

At this point you might think Calvin is a saint in my life. I won't stop you from thinking that. I will say, however, that I detected in his voice the same intense disappointment that I felt. I don't know about Calvin, but I was partly so frustrated with the decision because, despite my father's constant badgering about being prepared for a hike and for all types of weather and circumstances and being careful, as if Calvin and I were hardly mature enough to be responsible, my dad was the only one of the three of us who wasn't prepared for the weather. My dad never said anything about his not having the right gear, still I couldn't help but think that he wanted to get down from the mountain only because he was unprepared. As Calvin said, though, I just had to deal, because we were a party.

Though I'll always remember the trip as the time I should have climbed Mount Washington and didn't, the hike down was still quite a thrill. The visibility was so bad that when I stopped at one point to fix a strap on my pack, I couldn't see anyone when I got the pack back on. They had only walked about 40 feet and I couldn't see them. I thought that was really cool. Obviously I recognized the danger in that. I had told the others that I needed to fix something, but because the howling of the wind was so loud no one heard me. After I caught up with them I told them that we needed to walk closer together and look behind us more often to make sure we're all still together. I think we all realized just how adventurous our hike down the mountains could be. It wasn't the, "Hey, let's go on an adventure!" type deal, it was the more real, "Hey, this is actually dangerous" type of adventure.

We were encountered with some more danger not much after I couldn't see anyone. We were approaching a little ledge that we'd have to climb down, and right as Calvin was about to turn around to start climbing down, a huge wind gust blew Calvin forward and almost blew him right over the ledge. Thankfully, Calvin has reflexes like a cat and bent down to grab on to a rock and stabilize himself. After we knew he was ok, we all started laughing. This was going to be fun!!

As we were climbing down the ledge, we realized just how serious the wind gusts could be. At times when we tried putting our feet down a gust would come and move our foot a few inches, causing us to step awkwardly and off-balance on whichever rock we were aiming for, then we'd lose balance. Sometimes quick thinking and fast reflexes weren't much of a help in regaining our balance because another gust might come and throw us off even more. There were a couple of slips with plenty of scrapes.

Not much later, as we were walking along a ridge, a gust blew my foot off the path completely. My foot landed awkwardly on a rock, I lost my balance, and because we were on a ridge I had nothing to grab on to, nothing to protect me even in the slightest from the wind, so it was near impossible to regain my balance. I never did regain my balance. The wind took advantage of my imbalance and blew me off the path along with my foot. I was a few feet off the path, not far away from a big drop-off that would have broken some bones at least, before Calvin was able to grab onto me and and hold me steady. The ridge was only half a mile long, perhaps a bit longer, but it took us well over an hour to get to the end of it. We learned from my experience and kept having to crouch down whenever a gust came and wait for the wind to die down to the 50-70 mph range again.

When we finally got to a place that dropped down that would provide us with some rock cover from the wind, we saw a couple on their way up the mountain. The couple had stopped because of the wind and were hoping that it was only temporary. Our conversation with them, urging them to head back down if they didn't feel comfortable hiking in the high winds (which they weren't, and because the wind most certainly was not temporary), was more like a screaming contest. The wind howled so much that it felt like we were talking on opposite ends of a football field.

Obviously, we survived the whole ordeal. Getting to the bottom of the mountain was quite a disappointment, though. We were unable to finish the hike that I had been anticipating for so long. We were also unable to do the most exciting parts of that hike, or to see anything while doing the little bit that we did. The disappointment was particularly intense for me because my knee didn't exactly hold up very well on the way down, and I was facing the very real possibility that this would be my last hike. All in all, I never had the long-awaited mountaintop experience I expected.

I've told this long story basically to share two things. Reflecting on the experience made me realize just how important working as a team or a community is. Certainly, I very well would have fallen off the mountainside if Calvin weren't there to steady me. The trip would not have been enjoyable for my father in the least if he felt obligated to keep up with the extremely fast pace Calvin and I are capable of, or if Calvin and I went off on our own to complete the hike despite the danger. While one person might hold a group back, it's important that the group stay back with that person and lift them up. Hope and peace to all is far more important than selfish regard.

More importantly, though, I realized how enlightening my experience was on the metaphorical spiritual mountaintop experience. All of us Christians hear about the wonderful moment where we feel on top of the world spiritually and everything looks beautiful. Climbing a mountain is a great metaphor for that experience because most of us will only get there after lots of struggle and effort. We have to come to terms, however, with the fact that sometimes we'll climb the mountain, struggling and fighting the whole way, and not see anything beautiful or what we expected. We can't let that deter us from a deeper relationship with God. Sometimes the weather just doesn't cooperate. Sometimes the weather of our own soul is too clouded when we get to the top of the mountain. Whatever the reason, we can look back with some reflection and see that the climb up to the top and down to the valley again was in itself a thrilling adventure. Calvin and I were upset that we didn't get to do or see what we wanted, but all of us talked and laughed on the ride home about how much fun we had, how many close encounters with serious danger we had, about the people we met; and we were busy planning other hikes we could take in the future.

The expectations of what we will find, or be rewarded with, when we finally get to our mountaintop experience can often be a burden to us. We should rather not expect anything, and instead see the thrill and the joy of the climb itself. It's difficult work climbing over and through the vicissitudes of life. But I can't tell you how many times the three of us laughed when we could no longer make out the path through the fog and we said, "Where the frick do we go now???" or after climbing a particularly steep section we'd say, "Ah frick, man, that has to be the last serious climb... right?" Travel in a supportive community and the journey itself will show you the most beautiful, awesome, and funny things you can imagine.

Lightning Dancing

I was out late the other night (which, to me, is midnight. Other people don't consider that late, but I'm usually in bed by 11), and thank God I was. On my way home I saw a lightning storm in the distance, most likely a heat lightning storm. Hardly any echoes of thunder's familiar rumbling could be heard. Hardly any cars on the road in my small town to distract me from the show. Perhaps God sent the storm to keep me awake. Whatever the reason, I was audience to a peaceful display of lightning dancing through the night sky, zigging and zagging and twirling up and down, left and right to a musical rhythm.

Struck by the beautiful brilliance of it all, I thought of how lightning often spurs storytelling around a campfire or in the house as a family huddles together for comfort. I guess, in a way, lightning is the greatest storyteller. We often think of lightning as a scary form of danger. Personally getting hit by lightning is more frightening than hitting black ice in my car. Lightning can hit so fast and send so much electricity surging through you that, literally, you won't know what happened. But, all the same, I don't see lightning as scary. Thunder is what scares me. Thunder is Lightning's evil brother, trying to steal the show away from Lightning. I can't help but see something majestic in the way lightning streaks across the sky, visible from everywhere, in a dance of lines and curves seeking an outlet for all the latent energy, seeking expression to the magic desperate to burst out into the world. Is that not a great story? I think that's what inspires us to tell stories. In my family, at least, when there's a lightning storm we stop everything, watch the dance outside and express ourselves to one another in story form in creative ways that we would rarely indulge in otherwise. The dance of lightning outside inspired a dance within.

I continued thinking, and wishing that I had some way of capturing all the stories that the grand, dancing lightning has been witness to in all of history. Awed as I was by the magnificence of the lightning, I was floored when I thought of how honored I'd be if my loved ones and I could add, or were adding, our own chapter to the growing book of the great storyteller. All the magical creative love expressed and shared between the brothers and sisters that make up our family tree, all in the lightning's womb as it danced throughout history, and we can add the next chapter. To think that lightning still dances, perhaps asking for us to add our chapters to its story, is rather moving.

I immediately told my girlfriend that I wish she were there with me so that we could dance together under the greatest dance known to humankind. Obviously, I want to share every moment of worth to me with her, and I hope to share every moment of worth to her together, but in my dreams there was something indescribably tribal about dancing under the lightning, something ancient, something lost. I couldn't put my finger on it at the moment but I knew that if she and I added our quick steps to the fast pace of the lightning we would participate in an activity always intended for our fulfillment and great satisfaction.

I know that my girlfriend and I share a kindred soul. Yeah, we're both incredibly passionate, athletic, and far too good-looking for our own good, but that all doesn't matter. What matters is that we both dream dreams and are both actively creative because we see the joyful brilliance that surrounds us all and want to join in on God's play of C/creation. I have no doubt that God had fun when He created our home for us, and I have no doubt that He intended us to dance under The Dance with our own drums beating. Perhaps Thunder is not Lightning's evil brother but God's drum calling us to dance with Him and the whole host of heaven.

What are we missing when we hole ourselves up, bored, when lightning dances? What are we missing when we don't journey into the vibrant forests? What are we missing when we don't seek the splashing coolness of waterfalls? What are we missing when we don't travel by bike or horses or whatever else to feel the warm wind brush our cheeks? What are we missing when we don't breathe in as much of Creation as possible?

Many reading this might say, "But I go outside! I go to the beach! I promise!" Well and good, I'm glad you are spending as much time in the home God built for us rather than the homes we built for ourselves. Too many times, though, I have been frustrated and disappointed with people who tell me they love nature and love to be outside, by which they mean, "Yeah, when I exercise I do it outside," or, "I go to the beach about once a week (I like to keep a nice tan)," or, "Skiing is a lot of fun." Too often people only aspire to love being amongst Creation and so tell you that they do. Let's not bother trying to get people to like us more because we have "such" a diverse personality that we are "outdoorsy."

Instead, let us love God. Let us love all of what God has given us. Yes, thank God for comfortable homes and fast transportation, let us not miss the music. Let us dance and sing to the rhythm of lightning's dance, to God's Creation.

God's Politics

Anyway, I never much liked Jim Wallis's book about politics, God, and the church. I actually only read the first sixty or so pages and then decided, since the chances of the rest of the book saying anything new were rather slim, to stop reading but tell everyone I had read the book. I never really understood why I didn't like the book, it seemed as if the arguments were good and the heart of the matter important for us to hear (though I couldn't tell you what any of the arguments or themes were now... I only read 60 pages, after all). Now, years later, I think I know the reason.

I think I've always been interested in politics because my father has been involved in local politics as long as I can remember, and he always yells at the TV while watching CNN. But I'm also a reaction first person. I rarely reflect on choices I make or beliefs that I hold until longer after I've made them. Usually, if someone says something, I react against it. What makes it worse is that people my age, or at least the people I grew up with, say some a lot of things that deserve to be reacted against. "Oh I don't know history much at all. Does that make me a bad person? Oh well." "I'm so bad at math, but who cares because I'll never need it in my life, I'm gonna be an English major and be creative and stuff." (As an English major I can attest to how silly this really is. Everyone needs to do some accounting at some point or another, first of all, but a lot of what makes good literature, or good art in general, is a mathematical/logical precision) "The United States is so stupid. Why can't we be more like Spain?" "Who am I voting for? I don't know. I hate politics so I generally stay away from it completely. But I think I'll vote for Hillary because she's a woman."

The last two statements are the ones I'd like to address today, and maybe I'll tackle the history one later. Nothing frustrates me more than someone's complaining or using the word "hate" to describe something and then putting in zero effort to make that thing better. If it peeves you that much, do something about it. That's why, as a high school student, I had notions of being elected either to the state government of Massachusetts or make it to D.C. God called me in other ways, so then I took hope in that great movie about William Wilberforce, Amazing Grace, when Wilberforce (played Ioan Grufudd, so amazing... if I were a girl I'd drool over him) screams out, "No matter how loud you shout, you will not drown out the voice of the people!" Wilberforce was a man who took his faith and put it into practice in politics, taking the advice of his friend William Pitt that, "Surely the principles of Christianity are simple, and lead not to meditation only but to action." Yes, action: action to end the slave trade, action to raise the moral awareness of a country, action to save the lives and souls of citizens. Wilberforce became the hero of my life. I was reacting against my peers saying they hate politics, staying clear of anything associated with the word politics except when it was time to vote, at which time many uninformed decisions were made, and allowing my faith to enter in. I was going to change the world of politics and change the minds of my peers and change the world. My representatives and the Boston Globe have evidence of where my life was heading. And the fact that I tried reading God's Politics, concluding that it had good ideas but was a bad book, is also good evidence.

Yet, after years of reflection and reading the likes of J.R.R. Tolkien and Leo Tolstoy, I've come to conclude that, indeed, politics is worth staying away from. I forget the root of the world politics, or else I'd take about it here. Oh well. What I will talk about is God in the Bible. There are three stories that I'd like to focus on, but I won't preach on them or anything or even give the Scripture references to them. For whatever reason, when I learn stories and phrases from the Bible I don't learn the references to go with them. Anyway...

First, in Genesis, the Bible starts a theme for us that, indirectly, is continued throughout most of the Bible: "spread and multiply." In fact, some people argue that the moral of the Tower of Babel story is not that humankind is not meant to spread its wings and climb to the reaches of heaven, but that humankind is not meant to cluster and wall itself in, physically or metaphorically. We are meant to go out and interact with our brothers and sisters and create more of our brothers and sisters to multiply our collective peace and joy. Second, the story in 2 Samuel about how the people of Israel want a king, but God cannot understand why His people would want any ruler besides the Creator of love and mercy, the only true ruler. Third, Jesus' claim in the Gospel of John that He is "the way, the truth, and the life."

Essentially what we do by setting up rules of society, both government and economics in my opinion, is waive off all three of those stories. Considering that those three stories are not only in the Bible, not only significant, well-remembered stories, but are stories central to the themes of the Bible, it takes an act of foolishness to disregard these stories. Now, perhaps you have a different understanding. Ok, fine. Let me explain with a story.

I have a friend for whom politics is perhaps the most basic ingredient of life. Without governments, he might say, we'd all be lost and there'd be no order to life whatsoever. That disorder, according to my friend, would give way to criminal minds doing whatever they want with no repercussions. Even those without criminal minds would see that there's no point in being honest, polite, compassionate, or anything else we Christians associate with being good, because there's nothing in it for them and everyone else would be getting ahead by behaving immorally and committing all sorts of injustices (only they wouldn't be injustices without governments, he would argue). Governments, he concludes, are needed to control so that the worst is cut out of society (I would add that governments only have laws in place to punish the worst if they are caught... how many people get away with holding the 20+ million slaves in the world today?) and everyone has an opportunity to have a somewhat good life. When I argue that governments for 3,000 years haven't figured out how to provide for a somewhat good life for a majority of its citizens, he retorts that at least there is a system in place to possibly do so.

I realize that wasn't quite as much a story as I thought it would be. Apologies. But, moving on. Keeping in mind those three stories that I mentioned, it should be easy why I have a problem with my friend's arguments (which, I think, are the classic arguments in favor of order and government). Why would my friend argue that we set up governments in the first place? Probably the anthropological reason: groups realized that it was easier to bunch up and live together, and when they started doing that they discovered that some members of the group were cheating, and foreigners entering the group couldn't just bring rules with them that no one in the group recognized. In fact, it might just be easier to keep foreigners out. Tower of Babel, anyone...? In my mind, living together isn't the issue. If God wants His children to live together because in community we are the most glad of heart, then living in communities can't be the issue. The issue comes when we seek to control the group, and in so controlling we hope to accomplish great things that the rest of the world will gawk at. That's not the point. The point is simply to live in community with one another. You might argue that the 613 Jewish laws seems like an extensive form of government control, but those are optional. You are Jewish by choice. You take up the 613 laws by choice, knowing that with God's help those 613 laws will make you a better person and more in relation with the Heavenly Father and His blessed children.

Furthermore, setting up governments flatly eliminates any hope of reaching our full potential. There's a reason God didn't mention to Moses that maybe he should get some ballots and elect a king when he came down off the mountain. God is the only pure leader we can or ever will have. The second we elevate an imperfect human to such high standards we lose the chance of full relationship with God and His children, because everyone who has power over is cannot match God's wisdom and love. Sure, the United States' Founding Fathers were really intelligent when they set up the system of checks and balances. They knew that one or two branches of government would lead to corruption. Good job to them. Even with checks and balances, though, we are putting at least half our hope in human beings that are clearly not The Most High. In our world today I think that we put a good deal more than half our hope in human beings. Yes, by setting up governments we eliminate distress associated with potential criminals who choose not to follow the 613 laws or the "new" law of Christ, but we also throw away hope of ever finding the joy and peace that God intends for His children.

And, how can we put faith in governments when an essential element in any government's set of resources is the might of war. Think of the third story. Did Jesus say, "Ok, lads, love is the answer. Violence is never the answer, except when it is"? And did he say, "Remember, mis hermanos, it's ok to compromise if you think it might lead to ending an injustice"? I don't think so. I'm pretty sure Jesus told us what to do and set us an example. And if His example is not enough, or the words of the Bible too confusing, we can remember that loving our brothers and sisters is the greatest commandment (according to John... the two great commandments of the other gospels equal the same thing). When violence, compromise, misinformation, back-stabbing insults and the like are the inevitable tools and consequences of a way of life that we are supposed to think will save us, I don't know how we can possibly choose that over God.

Should we not hope in God's politics? A politics that allows each individual to choose how to love God, and allows us to love one another freely. A politics that says we are indeed made in the likeness of the Holy One and we can do great things together if only we have faith in Him and in one another. Rules of society, rules of business, rules of the economy, and the laws of government all tell us not to have faith in one another or in the redemptive power of God.

Tolstoy, Tolkien, and Dorothy Day all believed in a world of Christian anarchy, a world where, at the least, Christians put their faith in God rather than in systems of government. A world where Christians do not get involved in politics but instead seek only to embrace others in the holiest of ways, and in so doing may perhaps influence the political decisions of one country or another. Tolkien believed in The Shire of his famous Lord of the Rings. He didn't just write it, he believed in it. A world where individuals live in peaceful community, and the only official is an official in title only. A world where, when encroached by evil, as Lord Elrond says, those who will do good are called together to save it.

May we rest our faith in God, and in so doing rest our faith and our love in one another, so that we can be free to see Christ the way we are meant to without the human-made restrictions. And if are scared, let us once again have faith in the Judges from the Bible. God will save us, if not our bodies then our souls. But God will save our bodies if we love rather than fight and control. May we eradicate control, for it leads only to divisiveness, fear, apathy, and hatred. May we not follow Jim Wallis's call to put our faith into politics, rather may we put our faith into as complete action as possible, which means out of politics. I will close with the words of Tolkien.

To the Fellowship of the Ring called to destroy the ring that endangers the world, after explaining their task, Lord Elrond says, "That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world."

To those who despair of how foolish it is to rely on a small handful of men against a massive, armed force, Gandalf replies, "Despair, or follow? It is not despair, for despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not. It is wisdom to recognize necessity, when all other courses have been weighed, though as folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope. Well, let folly be our cloak, a veil before the eyes of the Enemy! For he is very wise, and weighs all things to a nicety in the scales of malice. But the only measure that he knows is desire, desire for power; and so he judges all hearts. Into his heart the thought will not enter that any will refuse it, that having the Ring we may seek to destroy it. If we seek this, we shall put him out of reckoning."

Household, Family Sabbath

Leading up this year's Father's Day I've been thinking a lot about what the day means to me. I've always respected my father, but I can't say I've always loved my father, except for the fact that he was my dad and I think any non-abusive, somewhat attentive father would be heart breaking for a child to lose, so I loved him because I couldn't imagine life without him. Growing up, then, I only spent time with my dad when I wanted to play a game. Other than that, I thought him to be too strict, too demanding, and too judgmental of anything not done his way or not thought out the way he would. I have memories of Father's Day as a kid being not much more than my dad's taking the day off from any type of work and everyone else doing whatever they felt like. It wasn't very meaningful and it didn't exactly celebrate my dad as a father. What makes a Father's Day special (and Mother's Day, too, but Mother's Day was about two months ago and I wasn't thinking about this then) is that the spouse and children say, "Hey, dad, we love you and we appreciate all that you have done for us, so let's take a day to celebrate you and, to help do that, we'll do all the work around the house and such." It's not special when the father's family doesn't give him that type of support and he has to decide on his own that he's not going to do anything, which is what I forced my father to do growing up.

Although this will be my first Father's Day away from home, it will be the most special Father's Day to date for me... and it's not because I recently got someone pregnant. No one I know is pregnant, I'm not going to be a father. I'm still only a son. Nothing much has changed, and yet this Father's Day will be significantly more special for me. Why?

I'll tell you why. Approximately a year ago I realized just how much my father has done for me in my life. As I said, I have always respected my dad, he's a great man, but I've never much enjoyed spending time with him. That was until approximately a year ago when I realized how much I owe him, how much who I am is indebted to my father. And I also began to realize that the faults I see in my father don't make him a bad person, they don't even necessarily make him uncomfortable to be around. Part of the problem was that I had a number of the same traits which caused a lot of friction, and part of the problem also was me. First of all, for whatever reason, I never gave my father the benefit of the doubt. I didn't approach him with love. So when I saw his faults I immediately was displeased, without acknowledging that I have lots of faults, too, and that everyone has faults. I also came to realize that it was from a lack of care and love that resulted in my father's quest to assert himself while at the same time detaching himself from family life, making him seem more unpleasant than he really is.

I started realizing all these things and was determined to make a concerted effort to love my dad. That was pretty easy, because apparently the love was there the whole time and I had just been denying it. But it was also easy because my dad is awesome. We started spending more time together, we hiked together a lot, and we also started eating meals as a family, for the first time since however far back I can remember. Before last year every member of the family generally ate whenever they wanted to, not waiting for anyone else and sometimes taking the food back to one of our rooms rather than eat at the table.

The last part is key, because I see that as the reason why this year Father's Day actually means something to me. For the past year or so my family has spent at least part of the day just sitting together sharing a meal. Nothing special, nothing extravagant, simply a mundane activity. As mundane as sharing a meal with your family might be, though, it's extremely special. A friend of mine likes to say that sharing a meal with someone is possibly the most amazing thing we can do as humans, because when you share a meal at the table everyone is equal, everyone is loved, and everyone is nourished (perhaps not nourished physically in some places and in some homes, the comfort of company, I hope, is always nourishing). So this Father's Day is special to me, as all Father's Days should be, because I have the memory of coming together with my family at the end of every day and sharing a meal together, and my father is an inextricable part of that. More than that, I know that that memory is part of what has kept my spirits up this past year at school.

All this is a lead-up to something I will hopefully keep short, I've written for quite a long time. I think about the Friday night sabbath dinners that I share with a family that I am friends with here at school. The family considers Friday night into Saturday evening sabbath, in a way to return to ancient tradition but also because, as ministers-in-training, Sundays are not exactly work-free. Though I don't see the family a whole lot during the week, those Friday evenings are incredibly special to me. For a few hours out of the week, I feel like I have a family away from home. But it's more than that. In the prayers and the breaking of the bread that we do before we partake of the meal, I realize that I am a son of God, part of His grand family. In that realization I also see that sabbath isn't made for us humans simply because it's good for us, but it's meant for us to recharge with God, as if He says, "You should all have a sabbath and remember it because, just as I had a sabbath, my family shall always enjoy a day of rest with me." Every week, then, I have the memory of being part of a family, a nuclear family and God's family, and that is a special thing made more special by knowing that the week will end and allow me to bask in it.

I know that my last post was about taking advantage of the sabbath because it's good for us and not thinking about it as a rule to observe, and I want to reiterate that in a slightly different way. Observing the sabbath, even if you are alone or in a family that is struggling, abusive, or in some other way putting you in serious physically and/or spiritual risk, can remind you that you are still a child of God and a precious member of His family. That is something we should always seek to remember. Just as my family's taking a mini-sabbath every day to share a meal together has been the central originator of my grace and joy, so will sharing a meal with the family of God do for you and for all of us. Or simply saying, "Ok, God, this is so sweet, I've got all my work done for the week so let's hang out!" Then the sabbath will become something you look forward to every week, knowing it is part of what keeps your chin up during the week, your heart pouring out love, and a source of joy, and knowing how incredibly fun spending time with God can be.

Thus ends my mini-series on the sabbath.

Honoring the Sabbath

Our Creation story is a fascinating thing. Some may have learned that the Jewish-Christian Creation is very similar to other Near/Middle Eastern creation stories, and certainly only one among many creation stories. But there are some major differences. I'll keep things simple here. First of all, our Creation is rare among creation stories in that it does not claim that the world was created out of some conflict or chaos. Genesis claims that God controlled the chaos in order to create, rather than that the chaos led to creation. And so, our Creation has an incredible order to it than other creation stories lack. Take a look at Genesis again and you'll see that each of the first three days corresponds to one of the days four, five, or six. That's only the beginning of the order created, and the order inherent in the story. There are lots of other examples of how tightly ordered the story is, including a whole bunch of weird patterns with the number 3, the number 7, and the number 10. Beyond that, though, our Creation is, as far as I know, the only creation story that does more than try to explain the origins of life and why things are the way they are. Our Creation tells us how to live.

Here's the deal. God rested on the seventh day. That simple fact gets repeated later in Exodus to tell us that, since God rested on the seventh day, so should we rest on the seventh day. But why? You can be the way I used to be and answer that question by saying, "We should rest on the seventh day because God told us so." Or you could answer, in a somewhat similar vein, "We should rest on the seventh day because, since God rested in the seventh day, resting every seven days is part of the natural fabric of the universe." I'm not even sure what that answer means, but both are very deterministic. If we don't do what God tells us, or if we don't follow the order of the universe, then something bad will happen to us. I don't think that's what God has in mind for us.

Read Genesis again and you'll see that the refrain we know so well, "And there was evening, and there was morning. The nth day..." does not show up on the seventh day of rest. It's as if the seventh day never ends. Rob Bell points out that it's somewhat interesting that before God even creates the sun and moon there is evening and morning. How could that be if the things we record day and night, the very measure of our days, are not yet created? Perhaps credence to the argument that, indeed, God's time is not our time... Anyway, you can say that God's rest day not ending is a sign that God has created and God has stepped away from His Creation. Sure, you can say that, but then what about Genesis 2, with God's walking around the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve talking to them? What about God's coming to Moses in the Burning Bush? What about all the other jazz that signals God's being in this world with us throughout the Bible? Probably better to think of Genesis 2, God's walking around and talking with Adam and Eve, is the reason why God's sabbath day never ends.

I firmly believe that God created the world to be in relationship with us. That essentially means that God's sabbath never ends so that He can rest with us, in relationship with us. Many people think that there are two Creation stories in Genesis, the first being Genesis 1, the second being Genesis 2 and 3. I believe that Genesis 2 and 3 is simply an explanation of why God's sabbath day never ends. It never ends because He wants to spend as much time as possible among and with us in relationship, loving us and being loved. What I'm trying to get at is that Genesis shows us that God's whole being is geared toward being in relationship with us. God so wants to be in relationship with us that, from the beginning as we see in Genesis 1, He tells us to spread and multiply. Spreading and multiplying is a theme repeated again and again in the Jewish Bible. God wants us to spread and multiply so that He can be in relationship with as many of us as possible to bring joy to Himself and to His Creation, but also so that we can share in the joy of creating and in the multiplying blessings of God's creations, God's children. You see, to create humans God breathes His spirit into us, so that every human we meet is a vessel of God's spirit, God's presence. The more of us there are, the more opportunity we have to be in relationship with God and vice versa. The fabric of life is ordered so that loving relationships with God and God's children can abound.

When God tells us to honor the sabbath, then, I don't think we should consider it a command that must be followed. Rather, I think we need to consider honoring the sabbath as necessary to remember how special our relationship with God truly is, that everything around us was created so that we can have the ultimate joy of spending time with God and so that He can have the ultimate joy of spending time with us. The harm of not honoring the sabbath is that you're missing out on something truly incredible. You can work and work and work to accomplish a lot, and you probably will accomplish a lot, but if you don't take a sabbath you won't remember how special that relationship is, you won't have the right perspective on why you're working, you won't have the joy of life that God so dearly wants for us. Without rest we can't properly reflect on our lives and God's presence in that life. Without reflection, we lose the sense that everything we do, we do it intentionally. Then, whether we like to admit it or not, we become machines, stuck in a routine of living that doesn't leave room for God's presence and doesn't leave room for God's potentially radically changing our path in life to more fully fill us with hope, peace, and joy.

It's no coincidence that memory is also a big theme throughout the Jewish Bible, and is still a major practice in the Jewish tradition. God knows that without remembering, without reflecting, we'll lose the sense that God's presence is here with us, here in us, and we'll lose that great joy that only comes with being in relationship with God, and in being in real relationship with God's children. Not only that, but clearly resting for an entire day is the best way to really have fun with God and His children. Take a Saturday and Sunday to spend outside and watch squirrels chase each other, you can't help but laugh and giggle.

I encourage us, then, to honor the sabbath. Let us not honor the sabbath as a command, but as an acknowledgment that God knows what is best for us. Remember, Jesus says that the sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath. The sabbath is for us. Honor and remember the sabbath and rest, and in so doing we will see God and see ourselves with much more clarity, much more love, and we'll be able to go out into the world with a deep peace.

Ennui Strikes Back

All that I remember of my life is being a professional student. I don't remember enough of my childhood to think of a time before school hit. Sure, I remember kindergarten. That's not full-time school, but it's still school. I'm 22 years old, running quickly into 23 this summer, and one word can summarize my life so far: school. I prefer to summarize it with "education" or "learning" or "wisdom" or "knowledge," or any of the other fancy words that we're supposed to grab on to, but all those things I've gotten in school. And yeah, I read and write a lot on my own time, but the only reason I have the motivation to do so is because of school.

The real crappy thing about school is that it doesn't last all year long. What a ridiculous thing to say, right? Who wants to go to school all year round? Well, I clearly do. I'll tell you why everyone should want to go to school longer.

For those who have made it to college or beyond, you'll know what I'm talking about. I mean, have you ever noticed that college level classes seem like a lot more work than anything you've ever done, but not necessarily any harder? And if it is harder, it's generally because there's just simply more to study for every exam or more research to do for every paper. And have you noticed that college level classes only meet once, twice, or three times a week for fifteen or sixteen weeks, while high school classes meet every day most of the time for eighteen or nineteen weeks (if you're in block scheduling)? For instance, my AP Calculus class in high school covered the same amount of material as my Calculus I class in college, but my college class covered it in four fewer weeks, meeting only three times a week for fifty minutes whereas my high school class met every day for ninety minutes. College = same work crammed into less time, much less time. End result = you work your butt off to make up for "lost" time, and then feel way more exhausted at the end of each semester than you ever would have in high school.

Now, I hope that I'm not taking for granted that everyone goes to college. I'm not. Circumstances are many that keep individuals from attending high school in many cases, let alone college. We must admit that we live in a lucky world if we can take elementary school for granted. To make a quick aside, if you are not able to take elementary school or any school for granted and you are reading this, Jesus says you are the salt of the Earth.

Ok, why am I talking about school? Like I said, all I know of life is being a professional student. I've had summer jobs and such and I feel like I've accomplished many things, but my job has been grinding into the books semester after semester. The experience has brought me into a close relationship with a state of being that probably everyone with a steady job experiences on a small scale but every day: ennui.

If you know old philosophy or "classic" European literature you will know that ennui was much talked about as something to avoid by anyone with a brain. Ennui is not exactly boredom or laziness, though they're a part of it, and it's not exactly restlessness, though that's a part of ennui as well. Ennui, in my own words, is when you're sitting around thinking to yourself, "What should I do with myself? I have no idea, but I really feel like I need to do something. Whatever can I do to fill up the time?????????????" It's when you don't know what to do with yourself, many times because you have nothing to do, and yet you feel a pull to fill up your time with something anything just please I don't want to sit here and not feel anything.

We live in a world that breeds ennui. Most people work long hours and come home every day feeling ennui beckoning them with a small voice. Every day one may come home and feel that they need to relax, but that they also need to fill their time with something enjoyable. When we get out of work we full this sort of emptiness in us that is sometimes painful and we feel as if we need to surround ourselves with people or things that can make us feel good to get rid of that feeling, that ennui. How do we do that? Television, sex, drinking parties, television, sex, drinking parties, exercising, television, sex, drinking parties, food, television, sex, drinking parties. Don't get me wrong, none of those things are inherently bad. I would argue that drinking parties are inherently bad, but drinking itself may not be. What goes wrong with any of these activities is when we use them to take up the empty space left in us when we're done working and have nothing to do.

For me, I feel ennui extra hard at the end of semesters. I don't have time to take breaks during the semester. I go to class and then whenever I'm not in class I'm doing homework. So when a semester is over I all of a sudden have lots of time, and I quickly slide downhill towards the pit. I fill up the time with things that I may not have had time to do before: hang out with a really beautiful girl, look at inappropriate images on the Internet, and look at more inappropriate images.

No activity should ever be engaged in simply because we feel as if we have to do something. Ennui strikes because there's something broken in us. Many people that love to work, strange as it seems to me, love to do so because then they always have something to do. They don't like feeling ennui, and their solution is to fill up their time with work. The issue is that not even the people who fill up their time with work to escape ennui solve the real problem. Certainly, those of us who escape ennui by engaging in instant gratification activities never solve the real problem because we jump from one entertaining thing to another, never stopping to confront that painful hole that is ennui. When we feel ennui, it doesn't mean that we're bored and need to do something, it means that there's something going on in our lives that we need to come to terms with.

Right now, for instance, I feel ennui in the few days after the Spring semester. I've done things I shouldn't have. Why? Well, one answer is that I had to do something quick to enjoy myself. I think of Madame Bovary here. The other, better answer is that I have not gone to God with my life. I am not talking to God or spending time with Him. I am not putting my concerns on Him in trust (I have an MRI tomorrow that I'm nervous about, and I clearly don't want to be nervous about it).

So what is the real issue? The real issue is that we don't have a holy rhythm. The weekends are hard for most of us because we're so used to working. And for those of us who have lots of work to do part of the year and no work other parts, having no rhythm is extra dangerous. We aren't used to waking up in the morning and spending half an hour to an hour in prayer with God. We aren't used to taking a walk in the middle of the day and praising God for the beauty that is life. We aren't used to reading Scripture when we have free time. We aren't used to writing letters or calling a friend for a long chat. Plain and simple, we just aren't used to putting in time to the relationships that really matter, especially with God. Some of us do put in lots of time to friendships and such but do so only to avoid ennui. We have to face ennui straight on and realize that the pain and emptiness we feel is the deep, central hole in us where God should be. God is the only eternal structure that we can build our lives around. Build a rhythm around Him, and place the temporary joys around Him. Don't make God a temporary fix, either. Don't go to God only when you feel lonely or some other form of ennui. Go to the Eternal Father at all times and make Him the center of your life, and then no lies of the world can strike you at your heart. Then you will find true joy, true happiness, true entertainment, and true love.

Personal and Theological Crises

Well, I haven't posted in awhile. With good reason, I promise (hopefully people actually care enough about what I write so y'all were missing me!). School has overwhelmed with stuff to do, but that has little to do with why I haven't been able to make time to write the blog. Unfortunately, I've been having a lot of physical issues the past few weeks. Enough physical issues to make me think I was dying for a few days, and then even when I thought it was safe to say I wasn't dying I was still scared enough to not go to classes. I won't get into the details of what was going on, you'll just have to trust me that it was pretty darn scary and I hope no one ever has to go through with what I did. After a couple visits to the hospital and doctor we finally diagnosed me with general anxiety disorder. That is important to this blog.

Knowing I have general anxiety disorder has done a whole lot of things to me in the past week (it was last week to the day that I was diagnosed). A lot of positives have come out of it. The medication is helping me feel better and the awareness of my condition is also helping me be more aware of when I'm carrying extra tension and anxiety, and it's allowed me to better manage my time to sneak in some relaxing alone time. Best of all, though, it's actually been rather enlightening into my life history and personality. I now acknowledge why I am the way I am, and how frustrating it can be for other people and myself, and can look forward to a future without those characteristics.

On the flip side, though, being diagnosed with general anxiety disorder has launched me into a crisis. First of all, though I can look forward with hope to a new future, I also look forward with despair to a new future. What if I'm no longer the energetically humorous person I've always been? What if I'm not as efficient a worker as I've always been? What if my grades and other future responsibilities (pastoring a church, especially) suffer because I'm not as stressed out about doing well? I have a number of questions to answer about who I will be and whether or not I will like that person, and I'll only be able to answer those questions when I get there, which is more frustrating. Thankfully, though, this personality crisis is not the worst thing ever. I acknowledge first and foremost that other people in the world are going through much worse problems and dealing with medication is near the bottom of my concerns in the world. I also acknowledge that, though I've worked hard to become someone in Christ that I am happy with (of course, I still have lots of things to work on, but I'm happy with where I'm coming from now to work on those things), becoming a new person because of medication isn't either a good or bad thing. It is what it is, and I'll just have to work hard again to integrate something new in my life and still be a disciple of Christ.

My real crisis is theological. I think I've said that I don't drink alcohol ever. The reason is that I don't see any reason for a Christian to drink alcohol: if you drink to relax, why not pray to God and spend time with Him; if you drink to lose inhibitions, I first question why but I also question why you don't pray and talk to God about finding a new "you"; and then I question anyone who enjoys the taste because I doubt they did when they took their first sips. If you're smart, you may already see where I'm going with this. If I have a general anxiety issue, why don't I just pray to God to release me from my anxieties, knowing that everything is in control when we put it in God's hands? Better yet, why don't I become a good Christian and listen to Jesus when he says that we should not worry in the first place, God will provide?

So you see, because of a simple label on my life I've been thrown into a crisis. I know I need the medication because I haven't yet dealt properly with my condition in my 22 years of life, but if I took my theology seriously then I shouldn't take the medication, whether I "need" it or not. And if I do need the medication, then maybe my theology was incorrect and I need to rethink. That's never easy, for me at least.

I have a few options, then. Either I don't take the medication and deal with this on my own (on some level, I will have to change my life even with the medication, of course), or I adapt my theology to my personal experience. For me, the latter option is extremely scary because I don't think personal experience should have such a drastic impact on how I understand God and our relationship to Him. As a Methodist, I adhere to the quadrilateral for determining religious truth: experience, yes, but also tradition, Scripture, and reason. The other three tell me that God can do anything, experience tells me that maybe God can't do everything (or maybe that I just don't have a very good relationship with Him, which is no more satisfying at the moment).

Reaching a place like this means crisis. What it basically comes down to is I either change how I view God or change my opinion of myself. Acknowledging that God isn't all-powerful, or acknowledging that I don't really know God at all.

In talking all this out I think I'm coming to a conclusion, but I won't share it with you all. It's not the reason I wanted to share my story. The reason I wanted to share my story is that I want to say that we need to acknowledge when we have these types of crises. Wherever I come out on this I will feel more confident because I haven't taken all four pieces of the quadrilateral into serious consideration. I'll also be more confident because whatever my faith looks like from here on it'll know that God carried me through this difficult time. Maybe I need to change how I view God, but that shouldn't detract us from living into the crisis. "Flip-flopping" may be bad in politics but in our spiritual journey. God is always calling us to new and better understandings of Him. Of course, that might be a scary thought for you. It is for me. I prefer if God would just reveal Himself once to me and I understand it all completely right then. That's how I've understood revelation on my spiritual journey so far, but I'm beginning to see that God reveals Himself constantly to us. In those moments of God's presence we need to always reevaluate how He's revealing Himself to us. Maybe it's always the same and we can take heart in that. Maybe it's always the same but looks different and we just need to not lose heart. And maybe it's different, but that's how God chose to present Himself to us at that moment in our life and we need to take it as it is and not fight it too much.

Certainly, there's a fine line between relying on experience too much and not fighting at all for what we previously had concluded intellectually and in prayer, and not relying on experience at all and fighting too much to hold intact what we hold in dear in our mental cages. Take C.S. Lewis for example. He wrote about evil and suffering in the world in The Problem of Pain, but then he lost his wife a few years later and realized what he had written didn't totally hold up, so he wrote A Grief Observed. The experience made him realize that his mental construct of God and evil were, indeed, mental constructs, but he also didn't let his experience fully dictate to him what and who God is, a good portion of his original theology remained, just in a very different form.

I'm not asking that we move through our spiritual journey with such an open mind that we think it's incredibly awesome every time we hear about some new thing or experience something new, but I do think that God is so expansive that we need to constantly reevaluate how we view Him and His presence in our lives. We also need to reevaluate our own relationship with God. I, for one, now certainly realize that I do not spend nearly as much time in prayer with God and reading His holy word as I should. If I had, I might not be so darn anxious!