Unique? Yes. Special? No.

No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and God will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing God will also provide a way out so that you may be able to endure it. (1 Corinthians 10.13)

The Compulsion to Feel Special

Because I work mostly from home, I’m privy a universe that many daytime commuters may never discover. It’s the world of afternoon television, a thing wholly unto itself. On the chat shows, smug has-been and not-quite celebrities bemoan the peccadillos of more current and famous stars. On the judge programs, ex-lovers, former friends, and fractured families drag each other into court demanding redress for slights and slander. On “Dr. Phil”, regular-looking folks lay their dysfunction at the good doctor’s feet for all to see. On the news stations, prattlers and howlers truck in hyperbole and speculation.

To the bank teller at home with the flu or the snowed-in schoolteacher, picking through TV’s midday buffet can be an eye-popping experience. It’s a feast of every kind of crazy. What could possibly induce people to behave so ridiculously in front of millions? Anyone regularly exposed to afternoon TV knows why. Celebrated or unknown, TV’s workaday denizens think they’re special. They believe their woes and outrage set them apart. At first, that would seem to be the case. But over time, a more sorrowful reality emerges. They are not special. For every betrayed spouse, there are another hundred queued up with similar stories. Every neighbor suing for property damage falls between dozens who’ve already been there and dozens more to come. Every star break-up boils down to the same foibles that have ruined relationships since the dawn of time. Today’s political kerfuffle will make way for tomorrow’s flap. In this regard, the surest way to prove how ordinary you are is to broadcast your “specialness.”

I paint this picture not to lament the pathetic state of daytime TV. It is what it is. Rather, the armchair sociologist in me is fascinated by how accurately it mirrors the compulsion to feel special. We’re all driven by a desire to set ourselves apart. Many of us set out to accomplish this in a constructive manner that can lead to overachievement and false pride. Just as many of us are convinced that our tests distinguish us from everyone else. Either way, these self-portraits we create are striped with the supposition that God should somehow love us more for being “special.” Sunday’s readings, particularly the New Testament (1 Corinthians 10.1-13) and Gospel (Luke 13.1-9), issue reality checks that charge us to recognize we’re not as special as we may suppose. While we may not be pleased to hear it, when we absorb what the texts say, they deliver really good news.

This Notion of “Deserving”

In 1 Corinthians, Paul revisits Israel’s wilderness trek, noting though the people’s needs were met, their grumbling caused many to be destroyed. Jesus picks up this destruction theme in Luke, where he recalls Roman atrocities against the Galileans and the deadly implosion of a tower. “Do you think these things happened because the victims were worse sinners than you?” He asks. “No,” He answers, saying, “Unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” When we unpeel this onion down to its core, we uncover a message of sameness. We all cross dry deserts. Any one of us can be random targets of violence and casualties of disaster. Our tests aren’t reliable indicators of our singularity, as victors or victims.

These texts yank this notion of “deserving” off the table. We neither deserve special favor because we’ve done well nor special consideration because we’re unable to do better. Whatever we’re dealing with, good or bad, opens avenues for God’s grace to reach us. Individuals who appear to have everything going their way need God’s grace. Those who can’t seem to buy a break need it, too. This is the crux behind Paul’s admonition that “no testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and God will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing God will also provide a way out so that you may be able to endure it.” (1 Corinthians 10.13) Whatever we face, we are not the first to confront it. Nor will we be the last. No one is singled out to suffer. No one is selected to succeed. Tests come to everyone. And they are given for one purpose only: to teach us our God is faithful.

What’s Unique About Us

This is a tough idea to digest. We want whatever we go through—whether the price we pay for success or burdens we bear at great personal expense—to say something extraordinary about us. But what’s extraordinary in this context is that God remains true regardless what we go through. Our specialness isn’t defined by our circumstances. What’s unique about us is located in our making—in the specific gifts and flaws placed in each of us to engender reliance on God’s grace. Because I was born gay doesn’t entitle me to harbor resentments or indulge in self-pity. Because someone else is burdened with wealth doesn’t grant license to feel superior or exploit privilege. Wherever we fall on life’s continuum, we will be tested. And the only way to survive our tests is by turning to God. “Unless you repent…” Jesus says.

Many times I’ve heard people quote Paul’s admonition about life’s trials and stop at “God will also provide a way out.” That’s magical thinking that ultimately defeats the purpose behind our tests. To accept this teaching, we have to ride the text out to the end: “so you may be able to endure it.” God’s faithfulness is proven in times of testing, not in helping us escape them. It’s who we are—not what we deal with—that makes us unique. Our trials are fundamentally no different than everyone else’s. The good news about not being special is found in the discovery that, regardless who we are, our God is always the same.

Tests and trials offer no indication of how “special” we are. In fact, they confirm we’re no different than anyone else. Our making—the gifts and flaws specific to each of us—is what’s unique.

Through and Through

Today’s meditation comes from Psalm 139.13:

For it was You Who formed my inward parts; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

We are made in God’s image and likeness—crafted to be like our Maker through and through. Our godliness and beauty exists within and without, as God not only shapes our physical form, but our inward parts as well: the inner beings where our gifts and longings and hopes reside. God knits us together, so that each of us becomes an authentic reflection of the Creator. There is love in us. There is passion, too, along with the overpowering need to be who we are—whom God intends us to be. To deny or attempt to reshape what God placed in us during the knitting process is to question God’s sovereign will and wisdom. We honor God by accepting who we are. And only God and we know who that is.

Seeing is Being

The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness! (Matthew 6.22-23)

Trusting Darkness

It’s Oscar® weekend, and like students cramming for finals, Walt and I are rushing to catch nominees we’ve not yet seen. Thanks to various association memberships, we’ve got most of them on DVD, which saves a lot of time running to theaters. Yet the discs remaining in this year’s to-do stack intimidate us more than any in recent memory, because what’s left are dark—in some instances, very dark—movies: 127 Hours, Winter’s Bone, Blue Valentine, The Rabbit Hole, Animal Kingdom, and Biutiful. We’re not sure we have the fortitude to wade through so much complex emotion, stress, and loss in 48 hours. To a large degree, current events have more than occupied our minds with crises, tragedy, and conflict. After newscasts of tyrants firing on protesters, the egregious ploy to strip Wisconsin workers’ rights, the Christchurch earthquake, and so on, we’ve put off looking at grimmer nominees. “I don’t want to see that” has been the standard answer to suggestions we put one of the unseen discs into the player.

The human spirit abides only so much pessimism and grief before it rebels. A persistent onslaught of negative thoughts, emotions, and experiences rapidly depletes reserves of light and hope it intuitively taps into to counteract darkness and fear. When we’re at wit’s end with no hope in sight and someone shows us grace or causes us to smile, we say, “Thanks, I needed that.” It’s no exaggeration. We really do need it. Our spirits soak up the light to combat darkness. Yet we’re ill advised to rely on another’s grace and optimism for light. We have no guarantee cheer and encouragement will come from an outside source. While waiting for them, we easily become obsessed with darkness. Our sight becomes infected, incapable of detecting light. We begin trusting darkness, acclimating ourselves to its deficits and dangers, and anticipating its deceits. We grow suspect of light and laughter. “Thanks, I really needed that” turns into, “It’s kind of you to try and cheer me up, but…” By then, our spirits have surrendered the will to rebel against darkness. They’re too weak to crave light’s regenerative power. They need resurrection. Before we reach such a dismal stage, however, we should take Jesus’s words in Matthew 6.22-23 to heart.

We Are Cameras

“The eye is the lamp of the body,” Jesus says. “If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!” While His message is clear, modern technology provides us a more apt metaphor to impress His teaching in our minds and memory. We are cameras. We automatically record and archive everything we see—not only in the literal sense, but figuratively and emotionally also. Our vision extends beyond natural sight. It’s endowed with perceptive and interpretive capabilities to distort and misjudge what we see. We, in turn, control where we look, what we focus on, our feelings about what we see, how those emotions alter the image, and, finally, meanings we attach to it. Over time, we develop what we might call a visual style much like actual photographers. The parallel places Jesus's concept readily within reach.

Let's try an imaginary exercise. We'll look at three pictures and name the photographer. The first is a low-contrast, black-and-white image of a sheer cliff with a narrow margin of clouded sky above. The second—also black-and-white, but starkly so—is an expressly homoerotic close-up of two muscular arms clasping a lily in powerful hands. The third, shot in saturated color, portrays a famous actress as Marie Antoinette surrounded by adoring courtiers. Who are the photographers? In order: Ansel Adams, Robert Mapplethorpe, and Annie Leibovitz. Each of their styles is famously recognizable. But what defines them? Subject matter is most obvious. Their images are born from personal passions and interests. Yet ultimately their perspectives and opinions determine how they view what they see. Adams regards nature as vast and overwhelming, yet reassuring; its permanence comforts him. Mapplethorpe finds paradoxes in gay sensibilities—strong and tender, visceral and refined, convoluted and simple. Leibovitz expresses fascination with celebrity by mocking celebrities in endearing ways; outlandish art direction and perfectionism mask a joke (and indictment) about taking stardom too seriously.

If Jesus proctored our little exercise, one imagines Him asking us, “How do images you create and views you express in what you see define you? What captivates your eye, and why? What perceptions and opinions impose themselves on your sight? Is your visual style healthy, affirming, and illuminating? Or is it fraught with anxiety, negativity, and unhealthy darkness?”

Reinventing Our Style

Since we view the world as we choose, seeing surpasses believing. Seeing is being. Where we look, what we focus on, and how we manipulate sight to reflect our attitudes decide our character and the way we live. If our eyes are consistently drawn to darkness—to deadly ideas, looming shadows, and harmful impulses—we become living archives of defeat, fear, and sinful desires. This is what Jesus means by, “If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!” If that’s our struggle, reinventing our style—investing the effort to discipline where we look, what we focus on, and how we perceive and interpret what we see—provides vital light for our spirits to grow and endure. “If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light,” Jesus promises. Vision is a selective process.

The original Greek for “healthy” means “generous,” while “unhealthy” means “stingy.” Each situation we face is an opportunity to give or take, comfort or curse. All circumstances are circumstantial. Personalities are merely perceived. They can’t define us if we define them. How we view them determines their meaning, influence, and importance in our lives. Healthy, generous sight opens our eyes to light’s presence in darkness. Unhealthy, stingy sight obscures light. What we choose to see is what we choose to be.

Where we choose to look, what we decide to see, and how we manipulate our vision determines our character and how we live.

Inspiration

The LORD God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

                        Genesis 2.7

 

And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

                        John 20.22

Vacancy

Last week The Sundance Channel ran an enthralling documentary with the abstract-expressionist painter, Agnes Martin (1912-2004). At the tender age of 86 when it was shot, she quickly dispenses with questions about her technique to discuss inspiration’s role in her work. While Martin offers no Christian claim—one senses a heavy leaning toward New Age mysticism in her parlance—it’s evident she associates inspiration with unnatural faith, which she positions as the polar opposite of intellectualism, or what we call “natural logic.” Her opinions of why an inspired life is superior to intellectual existence can’t be argued, as they’re always backed by sage pragmatism. Martin admits she paints with her “back to the world,” ignoring its notions of achieving success to receive inspiration as it comes. In a comment (also featured in the clip below), she says: “I don’t have any ideas myself. I have a vacant mind in order to do exactly what the inspiration calls for… And after I have it, I make up my mind that I’m not going to interfere.”

Martin’s endorsement of vacancy stunned me into a deeper understanding of why modern believers find it so challenging to “live by faith, not by sight,” as Paul defines Christian discipleship in 2 Corinthians 5.7. From the moment we enter the world, our human intellect declares war on the divine inspiration—the very breath of God—that gives us life. Beings He creates to obey His will join battle with personalities we create to will earthly survival. Genesis 3.7 explains once Adam and Eve ate the Knowledge Tree’s fruit, “the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked.” Immediately after our first breath replicates the miracle of creation, the tragedy of transgression repeats itself. We open our eyes and realize we’re vulnerable. We start learning, filling our heads with facts and concepts. Inspiration loses ground to intellect. Trust gives way to doubt. But we weren’t created to see. God made us to be. As Martin so beautifully puts it, we vacate our minds to be what He inspires us to be, and we discipline our thoughts not to interfere. We live by faith, not by sight.

Peace and Purpose

Catching the Martin film over Pentecost weekend jogged my memory of the Bible’s second instance of divine inspiration. In John 20, despite Mary Magdalene’s news of Jesus’s resurrection, the disciples stay hunkered down behind locked doors, still trembling in fear of the hostile crowd that crucified their Master. It’s evening, hours after Mary’s tomb-side encounter, yet nothing has inspired faith in her report or courage to venture out and find Jesus. On the plus side, however, the disciples haven’t the slightest idea about what to do next. Their vacancy provides the perfect opportunity for inspiration. Jesus comes to them, unhindered by their padlocks. “Peace be with you!” He says, repeating it after He shows them His wounded hands and side and adding, “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” Then, John writes, Jesus breathes on them, commanding them to “receive the Holy Spirit.” He literally inspires them.

Combining the Genesis story of God’s breath of life with John’s account of Jesus’s breath of the Holy Spirit opens a fascinating insight about inspiration. God’s breath inspires us to be and live; Jesus’s breath inspires us to believe. Circumstances beyond their control force the disciples to turn their backs to the world, disabling their natural logic and priming their unnatural faith. Prior to breathing on them, Jesus does one final sweep, as it were, to clear any lingering intellectual anxiety and indecisiveness. He speaks peace and purpose to their minds. “Stop worrying,” He says, “and start believing. If you believe the Father sent Me, believe I am sending you.” Knowing they’ll never drive back the onslaught of natural logic unaided, Jesus’s breath presages the filling of the Holy Spirit. It occupies the disciples, leaving no room for interference.

The Inspired Life

We experience, enjoy, and reap the benefits of the inspired life by shifting our focus from survival to being, trusting rather than seeing. We turn our backs to the world, rejecting its fears and logic in favor of embracing God’s peace and purpose. In 2 Timothy 1.7, we read: “God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.” The inspiration of the Holy Spirit gives us power to evict fear, replace it with love, and discipline ourselves against negative reasoning that interferes with what God inspires us to do.

Following our minds limits us to what we visibly perceive; it feeds a survival mentality keyed to view everything as a potential threat. It’s a lousy way to go, though, because it hangs us up trying to figure out what’s really happening and leads nowhere God created us to be. Although Agnes Martin brilliantly clarifies “inspiration” in the abstract, she echoes concrete wisdom Solomon captured thousands of years ago: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths.” (Proverbs 3.5-6) God’s breath inspires us to acknowledge Him in every way. The breath of Christ inspires us to trust Him in lieu of understanding. God’s direction always looks hard and often turns out harder than it looks. But after Jesus speaks peace and purpose to our minds, we press on by faith, knowing if He sends us we’ll never go wrong.

Listen carefully to Agnes Martin’s approach to painting and you’ll hear an inspiring metaphor for faith. (Apologies for the poor sound/image synchronization—it’s the best clip I could find.)

(Tomorrow: Above All Else)

Postscript: Online Bible Study

Well, as they say, the people have spoken and the votes for when best to hold an online Bible study are (as they also say) too close to call. Thus, it makes the most sense to accommodate both sides. While I finalize the details of the host site, mark your calendars for either—or both—of these dates: Thursday, June 11, at 8 PM CDT and Saturday, June 13, at 11 AM CDT. Within the week, I’ll publish the site location and other pertinent information. By next week I hope to complete a brief study guide for those interested in thinking about the topic, reading the selected texts, etc., in advance.

Thanks to everyone who either voted or emailed their preferences. Your enthusiasm ensures this will be an exciting venture we’re sure to enjoy together.

Finally, of course, you’re all welcome to participate, whether or not you voted in the poll. The more the merrier! (As they say…)

Breakage

Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples.

                        Matthew 26.26

 

“Can I not do with you as this potter does?” declares the LORD.

                        Jeremiah 18.6

 

She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.

                        Mark 14.3

Disclaimer

A brief disclaimer by way of testimony. This past Sunday our family—my parents, my brother, and I—sat side-by-side in worship for the first time in years. There was no significance to this; it was a pragmatic decision based on my midday flight out of Tampa and concerns about Super Bowl traffic. My brother’s church is closer to the airport, so it made sense to worship there. The experience became all the lovelier by it being First Sunday, allowing our family to take Communion together. As the elements were distributed, the pastor’s remarks opened new meaning in the Lord’s Supper I’d not heard and will never forget. Normally I avoid replicating messages here I’ve heard elsewhere. But this one merits repeating for its eloquent timeliness. The pastor’s observation about breaking bread turned my thoughts to other Biblical accounts of breakage and what they might tell us.

Breaking Bread

After acknowledging the bread’s prophetic import as the body of Christ, the pastor encouraged us also to think of it as a metaphor for God’s work in our lives. Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to His disciples. God does the same thing when we avail ourselves to Him. He takes us, blesses us, breaks us, and returns our lives to live for His glory. The breaking is crucial because it removes passions and propensities bearing no resemblance to our Maker. It forces us to reconcile our lives to His image, to become the beings He created us to be. Breaking deconstructs our personalities—attitudes and habits we adopt for survival and success—to clear away debris that hinders full expression of God’s presence in us. What’s more, the pastor said, it’s a repetitive process. When turmoil incites us to doubt God’s providence, He takes our problems, blesses them, breaks them, and returns them to us to manage according to His plan and will.

Breaking Down

Jeremiah 18 gives us a powerful description of how this works. God sends the prophet to a pottery and says He’ll speak to him there. Jeremiah watches the potter at the wheel, but as the pot takes shape, the potter sees flaws that mar its beauty and usefulness. “So the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him,” Jeremiah notes and God underscores the message: “Can I not do with you as this potter does? You’re like clay in My hand.” God is creativity in its purest, highest form. He brooks no interest in churning out cookie-cutter saints. He molds each of us so every life is fashioned in His image, yet no two lives look the same or serve the same purpose. As He shapes us, however, our clay often resists His touch. It’s stubbornly imperfect, and when flaws surface, He doesn’t gloss over them. He breaks us down and begins again. This requires our patience and trust because transitions from one shape to another give no sign of what we’ll become. It’s vital we know we’re in His hands. Breaking down always improves us. The Potter never fails to reshape our lives for the better.

Breaking Open

As God breaks and reshapes us, it’s our job to break open. In Mark 14, a woman comes to Jesus with an alabaster jar of expensive perfume. She breaks it open and pours the perfume on Christ’s head. The audacity of her adoration outrages some onlookers. They harshly rebuke her for wasting such a valuable asset on worship when she could have sold the perfume and given her profits to the poor. “Leave her alone,” Jesus tells them. “She’s done a beautiful thing by anointing my body in anticipation of my burial.” In other words, she’s attuned to God’s will and focused on the big picture. Each of us possesses valuable assets—talents and capabilities we could easily convert for personal gain and channel into good works. But the woman’s example teaches us the beauty of breaking open in service to God. Our boldness in doing so will rankle some for not conforming to their standards. So be it. “She did what she could,” Jesus says in the woman’s defense—not to imply others could do better than she, but suggesting her gesture was unique to her. By acting in expectancy, she foreshadowed the women who first witnessed the risen Christ after going to the tomb to anoint His body. We likewise should break open in anticipation of the day when others like us will meet the living Savior face to face.

This brings us full circle. Paul’s instructions for the Communion sacrament conclude with this: “Whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” (1 Corinthians 11.26) In this sense, breaking bread, breaking down, and breaking open are all of a piece. They testify of Christ’s consummate sacrifice of love and point to the power of His resurrection. Breakage demands humility and submission. Yet without it we’ll never rise triumphantly to new life.

Breakage brings triumph.

(Tomorrow: Whaddya Know?)

Roots

The gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures regarding his Son, who as to his human nature was a descendant of David.

                        Romans 1.2,3

Two Fathers

As children of Reason and Science, comprehending the Virgin Birth is beyond the pale for a lot of us. That’s a blessing in disguise. If Jesus came to us in a rational fashion, we could rationalize everything about Him. And if we were able to do that, we’d give up a Savior to get a Nobel Peace Prize winner. So it’s no accident that the first thing we learn about Him demands absolute faith. His story starts there because that’s where the story of our relationship with Him must start. “Without faith it is impossible to please God,” Hebrews 11.6 says.

Still, it mystifies me why the Bible goes out of its way to trace Jesus’s earthly lineage through Joseph. Matthew starts with this. Then he abruptly pulls a U-turn and says emphatically that Jesus was conceived in the Virgin’s womb by the Holy Spirit. If it weren’t the Bible, I’d be prone to ask, “So why did you drag me through all those generations, if—technically—Jesus had no genetic commonalities with the likes of Aminadab, Roboam, and Eliakim?” I think the answer isn’t in who Jesus’s “real” father was, but in the fact that He had two fathers.

Reverse Adoption

John 1 tells us Jesus was in the beginning. He was with God. He was God. This means that, as God, He decided who His earthly father would be. We could think of it as a highly selective reverse adoption process, with God/Jesus looking closely at millions of candidates until, at last, They found someone whom They felt sure would provide the Christ Child with the love, discipline, and example that every father’s son needs. One of the qualifications clearly foretold by the Prophets was Jesus’s terrestrial dad had to be a descendant of David. In other words, he had to come from good people. From a theological standpoint there’s a lot more to it than that and I’m sure many pulpits are filled by “Rev. Dr. Smiths” who spent a good chunk of their lives researching and writing dissertations on this subject. But for us common folks, who haven’t the time or genius to tease through the technicalities, here’s something to consider.

Who’s Your Daddy?

In his salutation to the Roman church, Paul writes, “as to his human nature [Jesus] was a descendent of David.” Jesus opted to identify with the House of David. That was where He chose to put down His roots. While our circumstances are the direct reverse of Christ’s, we’ve been given similar options. We have no say about who our earthly fathers are. But there is no end of candidates to choose from when we decide to adopt a second father. We may decide to be children of Power or Wealth or Success. We may decide to descend from certain houses—minorities or orientations, religions or political persuasions, for example. The people and houses we identify with define our nature—i.e., our personalities. This most certainly was true of Jesus. In being, He was God’s Son. But in nature, He was Joseph’s boy through and through.

Of course, we should desire to be children of God. If that’s Whom we want to identify with, then we have to put down roots in Him. And we have to remain steadfast in Him to grow. Some of us want to claim dozens of fathers. We want to limit God to Sunday visitations and spend the rest of the week with our other dads—Popularity and Pleasure and Passivity and all sorts of other less demanding types. That’s why we don’t grow in God and why we’re always such a mess. We don’t know who we are because we won’t commit to choosing one nature to descend from. Obviously, choosing the best nature—namely, God’s—is essential. But deciding to choose is the first step toward making the right choice. So who’s your daddy?

The nature we adopt answers the question.

(Tomorrow: Keeping Watch)

Bulldozing and Building

A time to tear down and a time to build…

                        Ecclesiastes 3.3

Wall Power

Genesis teaches God creates beings, each of them equal, equally innocent and worthy of His name. From there, He gives us the reins and a second creative process begins. His objectives focus on the eternal; ours fixate on the temporal—on values that promote longevity. We create personalities, survival strategies that reject equality, spoil innocence, and deny those unlike us any claim to God’s promise. We forge coalitions of personalities based on similar survival strategies. Together, we build walls to stymie the progress of any who contradict or threaten our way of life. Instead of relying on our beings’ willpower to demonstrate God's love and mercy, we reinforce our personalities’ wall power to protect us from irrational fears.

Demolishing Strongholds

Paul says in 2 Corinthians 10.4-5: “The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” Paul addresses our conflicts rather than the War on Evil that should unite us. He arms us with divine power to tear down walls constructed by anyone’s audacity to claim knowing what God knows. He identifies our power in Ephesians 2.14: “[Christ] is our peace… and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility.” When bulldozing time comes, we lay aside our personal preference for battering rams and wrecking balls and take on the peaceful nature of Jesus. With no confrontation needed, the engagement seems unexciting and non-dramatic. But its results are always spectacular.

Constructive Subversion

Divine power to demolish walls of injustice and ignorance has great appeal—particularly for those of us with subversive streaks. But if we devote all of our time undoing others’ work, none is left for work we must do. While we destroy divisions created by some, God authorizes us to build faith in others. As with peaceful demolition, it’s counterintuitive. We build their strength by owning our weakness. “We are glad whenever we are weak but you are strong,” Paul says in 2 Corinthians 13.9, conceding his readers may be more sophisticated, better versed than he. Yet in the next verse, he stands firm, citing “the authority the Lord gave me for building you up, not for tearing you down.” This is constructive subversion at its highest.

Absolutely, we must speak divine power to walls. “Shout it aloud, do not hold back,” Isaiah 58.1 says. “Declare to my people their rebellion.” But times also come to inspire others to follow Jesus through our humble example, building their courage to demolish their own walls of fear and arrogance. “There are times for bulldozing,” Solomon writes, “and times for building.” One without the other is a job half-done.

(Tomorrow: Lamenting and Laughing)

Postscript: The Milk of Human Kindness

In the coming weeks, we’ll hear a lot about the late, irrepressibly great Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to San Francisco’s Board of Supervisors—or any office in California—in 1977. His public service was tragically cut short when Dan White, a staunchly conservative former Supervisor, assassinated him. Milk’s victory granted him iconic status in the gay and liberal communities; his murder elevated him to that of a civil rights martyr. And while he’s never faded from public memory, a new film biography with a reportedly outstanding portrayal of Milk by Sean Penn no doubt will create a resurgence of discussion about Milk’s message, in life and death.

My nephew’s husband sent this youtube link to me in response to the passage of California’s Proposition 8, the initiative that nullified his marriage by restricting legal unions to heterosexual couples. His note said, “A great speech by Harvey Milk … very inspiring, especially given the recent passage of Prop 8.”

What Milk said over 30 years ago is all the more moving today, given how far we’ve come and yet how little we’ve changed. But my main purpose for including it here is how beautifully it exemplifies the power we achieve when we balance tearing down walls with building up people. I think one can safely say Harvey Milk understood better than most anyone that breaking through barriers means nothing unless human kindness flows behind it.

Don’t cheat yourself by not spending two extra minutes with this.

Going Overboard

Jonah ran away from the LORD.

                        Jonah 1.3

Who, How, What… and Where

I’m completely convinced we’re created by God as we are. Our beings—what we bring to the world, i.e., gender, ethnicity, and sexuality—are what He gives us to work with. We fashion personalities: attitudes, behaviors, and values to promote our wellbeing. But there’s more to us than who we are (being), how we are (personality), and what we achieve (success). God made us for two specific reasons: to embody His presence and bring Him pleasure. Where we are impacts our ability to do both.

Even in this age of data, demographics, and projections, it’s hard to fathom the infinite details involved in our making. Knowing exactly where He wanted us to be, God accounted for every person, situation, and challenge we’d meet. He shaped each of us uniquely for those things, placing us where we are as His expression and for His honor. It’s a cliché, but it’s true: God has a singular plan for every one of us. The question is how well do we map our lives to His plan?

On the Run

We can’t always be certain we’re in the right place, doing the right thing. But there are times when we're fully aware of where God wants us to be and what He expects us to do. Contention ensues between His plan and ours. If both move in synch, it’s no problem. It’s when we avoid the people and places He leads us to that we head for trouble. Ask Jonah. He knows.

God told Jonah to minister in Nineveh, a wicked, inhospitable city. Instead, he bought a ticket to Tarshish, a friendlier port. It may have needed his ministry, too. But he didn’t set sail for that. Jonah was on the run, trying to escape God’s plan. Relieved at dodging the Nineveh job, he napped. He awoke to terrified cries at a storm that rose so abruptly and inexplicably it had to be an act of God. Something or someone had gone seriously wrong. Initially, he said nothing, hoping to ride out the storm. It continued to batter the ship and he came clean. “Throw me overboard,” he told the sailors, “and you’ll be spared.”

Environmental Disturbances

Some of us currently—or may one day—find we’re off God’s map. We’re not lost. We’re there by choice, ignoring His call to serve unpleasant people and places. By being out of place, however, we disturb the environment. Like Jonah, we’re probably oblivious to this. We curl up and doze off, thinking we’re safe. But our plan will eventually stir up trouble, not only endangering us but also those around us. Sooner or later, we'll have to deal with the fact that we've chosen a destination located nowhere in God's plan.

Are we where God created us to be? If so, let’s accomplish all He’s given us to do. But if we’re on the run—if we’re not where He needs us and we know it—perhaps it’s time to consider going overboard. It’s a frightening idea, leaping out of our comfort zones into seas of uncertainty. Yet, as Jonah’s story bears out, once we’re back on God’s map, amazing things happen.

Running away from where God wants us to be only leads to trouble--for us and those around us.

(Tomorrow: I Surrender!)

Postscript: Places to Be

Thankfully, understanding God’s plan and discovering our place in His world isn’t left solely to us. He’s provided able assistance through people whose knowledge, experience, and encouragement help keep us on course. In Ephesians 4.11-13, Paul wrote, God “gave some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God’s people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature.” (How’s that for a run-on sentence?)

We need compassionate leaders to build our confidence and set examples for us to follow. We need the company of other believers we can fellowship with and reach out to in moments of weakness and distress. We need places to be who we are, as honest individuals and followers of Jesus. As people often categorized under “alternative lifestyle,” we need a healthy alternative to the many unhealthy alternatives relentlessly beckoning us away from God’s map.

I’m happy to add two new “alternatives” to the Straight-Friendly “Gay-Friendly Churches” list. The emails I’ve exchanged with their pastors this past week leave no doubt that they’re passionately committed to inclusion and guide their people with great care and understanding. I recommend them wholeheartedly.

Expressions Community Fellowship, Oklahoma City, OK

The United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, NY

Finally, if you attend or visit any of the churches listed here, it would be nice to hear from you. When you get a moment, send an email describing what your church is like, what you’ve experienced, learned, and gained from it, etc. From time to time, I’ll share comments I receive with the Straight-Friendly readers. (Note: please include a sentence explicitly giving your permission to be quoted publicly.)

Thanks. I eagerly look forward to hearing from you.

Tim

straight.friendly@yahoo.com

Laugh All You Like

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

                        Proverbs 17.22

Serious Business

Following Jesus is serious business, nothing to be taken lightly or treated casually. It leads us to confront core weaknesses and demands constant attention. But it also produces bright blooms of joy, as often in dark seasons of sorrow as moments of unalloyed happiness.

The trick is learning to be sober, rather than somber. We must be clear-headed about the world around us. Yet as people of faith, circumstances don’t dictate our attitude. We set our sights beyond the visible; we bank on God’s promises instead of natural facts. In John 16.33, Jesus tells us to expect trials. “But be of good cheer,” He adds, “I have overcome the world.” (KJV) We rise above our emotions long before our struggles end because Christ already triumphed over the problems we face. We remain cheerful.

The Upbeat Obligation

Sincere followers of Christ examine their behavior against His measures. His statement in John goes beyond recommendation. It gives us an upbeat obligation. Meeting it requires consistent effort. Some of us are cheery by nature. But others—for example, the “half-empty” crowd—really have to work at it. We habitually, consciously depose our dispositions. When our mind predicts gloom and doom, we tighten the reins and turn toward optimism and opportunity.

Why did Jesus make a point of reminding us to stay joyful? The answer comes from Proverbs. A cheerful heart is therapeutic. It seeks out positive angles for navigating life’s dreariest curves. Often it may not find any good where it presently is.  So it looks around the bend by faith. Wherever it may be, it refuses to be crushed. Proverbs says a crushed spirit dries up the bones. It makes us weak, brittle, and afraid—basically, incapable of doing the work God created and placed us here to do. A happy heart makes a productive life.

Laugh Junkies

Just because we laugh at silliness doesn’t mean laughter trivializes serious situations. A lot of times, it’s the key to unlocking our minds and fears to face the reality of what’s actually happening. A buddy of mine says, “I’d rather die laughing than cry myself to sleep.” It’s our choice and Jesus told us what to do. He’s already overcome the world. The worst it throws at us can’t compete with His promises. Don’t get boxed in by what’s “appropriate.” The natural mind frets over what it can’t control; the unnatural mind forgets about limitations to believe. Yeah, troubles come. So? Laugh all you like. Become a laugh junkie. It’s great medicine—powerfully habit-forming with only positive side effects!

Most of us have probably seen this, but I couldn't resist using it. I love this kid! Nothing startles him and the bigger the noise, the harder he laughs. (BTW, the title, roughly translated, is, "Can Hubby Make Baby Laugh?")

(Tomorrow: Cutting Through)

Personal Postscript: Laughing Matters--an Informal Inquiry

We're all plagued by recurrent anxieties that present themselves as no laughing matter. Yet when these Achilles' heels surface, it very well may be when laughing matters most.

In my case, money makes me nervous. I'm just not gifted with the talent or enthusiasm to manage it closely. It seems the Tempter knows this. (If not, he knows it now.) So he exploits every chance to taunt me with financial worries and doubts. But with God's help, I'm learning how to handle it. First, I start with a reality check of what my situation is. It's never as dire as my fears suggest. Second, I'm learning to laugh at my insecurity over things I can't control while whatever needs to happen for my peace of mind transpires. And here's what I'm discovering: time really does fly when you're having fun. When I focus on staying cheerful, answers and reassurances come much sooner.

Am I daft about this? I'm interested whether you also laugh defensively at certain anxieties. If so, post a quick comment. It can be as simple as, "I laugh at my fear of loneliness." Or it might be, "I need to learn how to laugh at how much I worry about what others think." You get the drift.

So when does--or should--laughing matter the most for you?