Monday, January 27, 2014

Looking like Insanity

Einstein. Pretty cool guy, right? He said some stuff about math, had crazy hair, and is apparently credited with the coolest quotes ever.

"The definition of insanity is doing something over and over again and expecting a different result."

Great Einstein quote, right? I thought so too. I was sitting in a Wednesday night church class covering Ephesians and the teacher happened to throw that out there. "We all know it was Albert Einstein who said..." It was like the bajillionth time that I had heard it. Now, for some reason, the feral beast of curiosity decided to visit my mind's doorstep that moment and I set my fingers to Google to look up the quote.

Ever heard of a lady named Rita Mae Brown? Neither had I. Apparently, she was referenced as the most reliable source for this quote. She had written it in one of her novels. But it doesn't stop there. Apparently, Narcotics Anonymous said it even before she did! So who came up with this overused quote?

Well, I'm not really sure. But I'm pretty sure it wasn't Einstein. An article I read said that they couldn't find a single place where Einstein had ever written or said this. They also went on to say, "It’s not surprising that it has been attributed to Einstein, since everything but the Book of Genesis has been attributed to him at some point." Go figure. Show everyone that you've figured half of the world out, and you also get credited with the other half. (I need to invent a formula or something...)

"What's your point? Even if Einstein didn't say it, it's still a solid quote."

Yeah, you're probably right. I get distracted by misinformation sometimes. The quote is solid, and is a good general rule for life. If you want to get different results, you've gotta try different stuff.

In Matthew 21, Jesus tells a parable of the master of a house that owns a vineyard which is tended by some tenants that stay on his land. Since he lives far away from the vineyard, the master sends servants to get the fruit of his harvest when the right time comes. His tenants respond by killing, beating, and stoning the servants that the master sends.

That's pretty screwed up, eh?

If I was the master, I'd send the po-po to go "take care" of the offending party. However, instead of doing that, the master just sends more servants. The same thing happens again. At this point, you'd think he'd do something different, right? Definition of insanity, right? Well, instead, the master sends his son, saying, "They will respect my son."

Spoiler alert: they kill the son, hoping to somehow snag his inheritance from the father (yes, because I would also love to give the inheritance that was due to my son to his murderers!). I've read this before and thought, "What's the deal? Isn't this insanity? Doesn't the master know what they're going to do?"

Of course He does. And He sends Him anyway. He wanted to give the tenants the opportunity to respond rightly. He knew their sins and what they're response would be, but he extends a hand of grace, giving them an ample number of chances to turn from their ways and accept His grace.

Sometimes, grace looks like insanity.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Jesus Was a Fireplace

Taking pictures of fireworks with your phone is probably one of the dumbest things things you could possibly try to do. Why?

1. It's a phone. Not a DSLR fancy-shmancy my-lens-is-bigger-than-yours Indian-soul-catching photographic device.

2. You're never going to look at them again. Honestly.

3. Everyone else is doing it. If you so happen to be one of those people that goes back and looks at your old pictures, all you have to do is get someone to text you some of the pictures they took.

4. You won't enjoy the moment. You'll be so busy getting the right angle and picking the right Instagram filter that you'll miss the sheer beauty and simplicity of watching organized explosions light the night sky.

However, if there was ever a time to take pictures of fireworks, this past New Year's Eve was it. I say that mainly because, in my city, there were a total of 22 minutes of fireworks. Yes, you read that correctly. Twenty-two minutes. MINUTES. What?!

Yup. 

I could've taken a shower in half the time. I could've gone to the store, made a sandwich, shared it with a bum, (common to our area) and been back in time to catch most of the explosive grandeur. I could've caught up on all the seasons of Lost. (Probably not true.)

But as I sat there absorbing the light with my ocular vision-spheres (common English for eyeballs), I began to realize something. Though there are few things on this planet that provide as much light as fireworks, they are still cold. Normally, when one thinks of light, they also think of the heat it provides, like the sun. However, I've never heard of anyone basking in the warmth of fireworks. Despite how cool they are to look at, despite all of their flashiness, and despite all of the majesty of these light displays, they are still distant, cold, and want little to do with the lowly humans they provide light for. For all of the shock, awe, and boom they offer, they are still too good for us down below, proving it by running as fast as they can away from us.
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." (Matthew 5)
I want to be a fireplace. Though the light it gives is not as organized as those of fireworks, and though they provide little but a humble, unobtrusive light, they give what many people are missing nowadays.

Warmth.

Standing on a stage and impressing people is easy. It is a simple matter to wow the masses. It is no difficult task to be a light show that gives little warmth to the humans watching from below. It is a much more difficult matter to step down into the crowd, be a part of them, and get close enough to transmit heat. Standing above the friction ensures a safe distance from the problems of those below, but it eliminates the opportunity to get involved in a more meaningful way.

Jesus was a fireplace.

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Whose Kingdom is It Anyway?

One of the great things about living in Florida is being able to go to the beach 3 days before Christmas. That is how this year found me, skimboarding on the ocean waves lapping up onto the shore well until past twilight. If you live in the North, (or anywhere else above South Florida) you might be jealous to hear that even the onset of night didn't make it too cold to continue enjoying the water and sand. (No hate mail, please.)

As it got later and the lifeguards had finished their shift and closed up shop, I drew near to the pier. (They don't allow skimboarders in guarded areas. Some garbage about safety or something like that. Psh.) As I was enjoying riding the waves and such, I noticed a teenager running about in a wetsuit. At one point, I fell off my board and the water had carried it a distance from me. The young man in the black wetsuit ran up, grabbed my board, played with it in the water for half a minute, and then handed it back to me, laughing all the while.

Sound strange? Yes, it was, but the boy had some kind of developmental deficiency. I can't speak into the details of the situation, but having studied many developmental disorders in nursing school, I knew he had some kind of dementia or autism perhaps. I stayed around that area close to the pier, continuing to try to get some good waves in before heading home, but I couldn't keep my eyes off the boy who ran about the shoreline, splashed in the water, and threw small pebbles back into the ocean, even grabbing a jellyfish that had washed up on shore. No shame. No fear. No regret.

I wanted to be like him.

As I watched, I realized that this boy didn't give a flip about what other people were thinking about him. As someone who is so wrapped up in my performance, I wanted to stop caring about what people thought about whether or not I excelled. I began to long to do the things that I do for the God's glory instead of my own. I wanted to enjoy throwing pebbles without wanting to show my neighbor how far they went. I wanted to splash in the water with no fear of how silly I looked doing it. I wanted to run along the shoreline without worrying about my form. I wanted to grab jellyfish without thinking that others would look at me like an idiot.
So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. (1 Cor. 10)
Casting Crowns has a song that says, "How can I further your Kingdom when I'm so wrapped up in mine?" A life of making the almighty "me" the end goal of my efforts is a life wasted. And as much as it is easy to sit here and write that I want to change, I stand to make this post as much about my conviction as it is for yours. When our lives become about God and others, people notice, are blown away, and do not understand. It's only logical: no one understands miracles, and a lack of selfishness is probably one of the most miraculous things out there.

That is what I want.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Walking Mud

One of the original bands that got me into music was Switchfoot. We were on our way home from church and my brother had bought a CD called, "The Beautiful Letdown." I didn't know that what I was listening to would go double platinum. I don't know that a fact like that would have even mattered to me. All I knew was that I soon memorized almost every single track on that album (I checked Spotify and saw a track I'd never heard. Musta been an easter egg).

A few years later, I got one of my own CD's from a band called Relient K. The Anatomy of the Tongue in Cheek became my ear-candy for the next few months and music soon became one of my passions. In the beginning, my brother introduced me to new bands and genres, but I soon started finding music of my own in that process, but I always maintained Relient K as one of my beacons of great music. Sure, a lot of people fell out of favor with them after Five Score and Seven Years Ago, but I found one of their least-popular albums, Forget and Not Slow Down (a post-Five-Score release), to be one of my favorites, containing some deep spiritual truths that required digging past the surface for their discovery.

Alas, things got weird when they released two karaoke albums. After all that waiting for them to release new material, all I got was covers. Ick. So when I heard they were releasing a new album, Collapsible Lung, I was stoked. Fresh music! I soon found, however, that the lyrics contained in those songs were some of the most secular, spiritually void words in Relient K history.

Bummer.

The last track, however, holds some words of intense thought. In this, the title track of the album, lead singer Matt Thiessen gives insight to his own walk with God.
/I’m feelin' backwards when I’m trying the most/
/And I hope haven’t heard the last words from the Holy Ghost/
/Cause I think that I’m supposed to be/
/Well on my way by now/
I've spent a lot of time thinking "that I'm supposed to be well on my way." I stumble and fall and feel the shame of sin and think, "God's probably getting pretty tired of me." If someone treated me like I treated God, I'm pretty sure I would have distanced myself from that person.

It's easy to have a pity party. You don't have to muster the energy to celebrate. You don't have to invite anyone. You don't even have to buy a cake. Just think about all of your failures, wallow in them like a pig in the mud, and get a woe-is-me sign.

Yeah, you screwed up. I screwed up. But I'm pretty sure that the truth of this whole Jesus thing is that He's no longer our Judge, but our Father. And not only is He our Father, but He's the best kind there is, which means He's patient. I once heard the analogy that, when a child is learning to walk, you don't get angry at the child when he falls after two steps, but rejoice in the fact that he was able to take two steps!
For he knows our frame;
he remembers that we are dust. (Psalm 103)
God rejoices in the steps because the fact that a mound of dirt is learning to walk is a pretty big deal. I think the truth of the matter is that we'll never be where we're supposed to be. And that's ok. If we're moving forward, even by the babiest of baby steps, He rejoices in the propulsion. He won't leave you where you are, and He'll push you to walk faster, but He concurrently recognizes our weakness.

Does that mean it's ok to be lazy or to sit in our sin? If that's what you're thinking, you've missed the entire point.

Masterpieces aren't composed in a day.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Two Approaches to Sin

If you've ever known... well... anyone, you know one thing: sin sucks. You may not verbalize it in this way. You may not even cognitively process the fact that sin sucks, but, oh, you have felt this truth. Whether it was your own sin or another's, you have experienced what it means to be damaged and bruised by the decision to rebel against God's natural order.

There are usually two responses to sin: either you do not realize it's gravity, or you dwell upon it entirely too much.

Let's tackle the first situation.

God abhors sin. If you don't know what "abhor" means, it's loathing. If you don't know what "loathing" is, it's hatred. God cannot be near sin. He is thoroughly and totally disgusted with the ways we choose to disobey His direct Word. And because of the way that sin impacts our daily lives, He grieves over the fact that we make deliberate choices to throw our life down the pooper. Sin is the opposition to all God has intended for us, and it breaks His heart when we make it our escape. Realizing the nature of sin from God's perspective is a crucial part of the Christian life.

However, there is another temptation. As Christians, after we've sinned, we can often tend to forget about grace. We tie ourselves to the woe-is-me pole and refuse to leave. I'm not sure if we do this because we think that there is some sort of righteousness in beating ourselves up over sin or because we are just so stricken with the agony of our wrongdoing, but either way, we forget what it means that God has covered all those things in His blood. I get that there is a time to grieve over the fact that you've screwed up. Sin sucks, after all. However, don't let your sin be greater than your God.

Repent, move forward, and fill your mind with the good things God has done for you.
I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. (Psalm 143)
Don't just look at all the ways you've failed. Begin to look at all the ways that God has pushed you in the right direction. Remember the moments in your life where God has done great things. Along with your repentance, there must be rejoicing.

God is writing your story. Don't forget to read the highlights.

Monday, November 25, 2013

We, The Condemned

I've spoken on occasion about my times with the Christ next to the intracoastal. For whatever reason, God has used my times next to those waters as very significant and powerful moments in my life. So I figured the little place deserves a little more explanation. My school is about a 3 minute walk from the intracoastal, and then another maybe 20 minute walk to the beach. In between or after classes, I head off to have my daily time with God out there by the waters where there's normally very little to distract me.

The little place is actually owned by a church across the street, which had built a small outdoor amphitheater in recognition of a few successful years of crusades. A small, marble plaque inlaid into the floor commemorates it as "The Place of Decision." Sections upon sections of bright blue chairs face the intracoastal and a stage set up with a baptismal channel running in front of it. It really is quite the place to enjoy solitude and peace, sitting in an empty amphitheater where the worship of saints and souls won for Christ define its very existence. Sitting there reminds me that God not only works in the multitudes that once filled those seats, but also in the single, solitary man that sits alone in that sea of chairs.

However, when I said that the church across the street owned it, that wasn't entirely true. They used to. Now, because of monetary reasons, the property has been sold, and there are plans to build some of the tallest skyrises in downtown right on that area. Now, look, I'm no protester or activist - that's not why I'm telling you all this. I'm not going to tell you to sign a petition to save this property. The reason I bring it up is because the current structure that lies there is condemned.

And I love it.

I love the fact that I am fully appreciating something that the world cares little about anymore. I know it will all soon be over, and perhaps that increases my fondness of the time I have now with that little place. Look at me - I sound like a schoolgirl. Oh well, I love it. Every minute of it. Condemned and all.
"For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die - but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5)
Look, I'm not going to drag this out. Whatever pleasure I have in this little condemned piece of property is reflective of how God loves condemned humans. He loved us while we were still sinners. Not at our best, but at our worst - at our most condemned moment.

Can you see that?

God chose us, The Condemned. He loves us, The Condemned. And He rescued us, so we are no longer The Condemned.

Monday, November 18, 2013

Hardwood Floors and Fleshy Pads

I recently replaced the carpet in my bedroom with hardwood flooring. Usually, people compile a list of pros and cons before they do a thing like that, but I have nowhere near that kind of foresight. Instead, I've decided to compile my list retroactively, and here's the result.

Pros:
-It looks positively alluring.
-It's easy to clean.
-It shines bright like a diamond. (Thanks, Rihanna?)
-My desk chair has become exponentially more slidey on its surface (thereby increasing fun percentage by 17%).
-No more rugburn.
-Did I mention it looks good?

Cons:
-All the dust/hair/dead carcasses tend to ball up in the places where footsteps don't normally land.
-It's not very comfortable to lie face down on. (Don't ask.)
-I'm pretty sure it absorbs more heat than carpet, turning my already-hot room into the molten core of the earth.
-I may or may not have cried in frustration while installing it.
-It's super slippery.

One day, my friend tried to hide from me by putting himself behind one of the doors in my room. I tried to push the door open, only to find that I simply slid on my socks. As frustrating as this was, I knew there was a simple solution. I tore off my socks and planted the fleshy pads of my feet on the ground, giving me just the grip I needed to shoulder my way past the door.
"Give me a place to stand, and I will move the Earth." - Archimedes
I asked one of my friends the other day if he wanted to change the world. He replied, "Not really." However, my next question was of a little more importance: "Do you want to change your own little world?" To this, his response was a definitive, "Yes."

I think every one of us wants to change the world, either on a global level, or on the level of the world that is immediately around us. We want to impact our friends, peers, and family in a way that creates an indisputably compelling legacy. We want to leave our mark.
Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built. (Luke 6)
Might I suggest that, at one point or another, the flood is going to come? If that's the case, my question is, "Will the legacy you have built survive?" which is really just another way of asking, "Were you standing on the Rock when you pushed to move the Earth?" All you are trying to accomplish will fall until you find out that there's only one spot to put the fleshy pads of your feet.

That spot is on a hill far away, next to an old rugged cross.