Wednesday, February 28, 2007

In the Chiropractor's Office

This is not the kind of thing I normally think about while laying face down on vinyl:

Everyone has an idea of right & wrong, but most of us don't generally think much about other folks ideas of justice. There are some people that catch us of guard by having a sense of right. For example some people believe politicians don't care about right and wrong. Politicians believe they are servants of it. Some people don't believe Democrats care about good. Some don't believe that Corvette owners care about good. Some think that gays are completely unconcerned about good?

Why?

Everyone has an idea of justice and how to get it. If they believe that their idea of attaining justice is within their power they act on it; whatever it takes. If they feel powerless to bring justice they either find some way to escape (mentally or physically) or they live very fearful, dark, despairing lives.

Some people think justice doesn't happen on Earth, but they believe it exists somewhere so they fantasize about places where it could be. When they fantasize about a place on earth we call it a "Utopia" or a "paradise". When it's after earth we call it "heaven". But all these people seem to think it's far away? There's a big group of people who think that justice has to do with the afterlife; that it only comes after death? Most people have just one word in English for a place where justice and fulfillment are absent: hell.

What if there were a possibility that justice could come during life? Would you be willing to help? What if you knew you'd die before that happened? Would you still try?

With all this in mind is justice really all that important anyway. Maybe it isn't even real. Maybe justice is greed disguised; everyone out for themselves. They and Their's are their own definition of justice.

But what if justice deep down is really important. So important that we'd sacrifice something very important to us get it.

If it's important is it available? If it is available, where is it? How do we get it? How hard is it to get? Who gets it? Who doesn't? Who deserves it?

If everyone has an idea of right and wrong what's missing? If this is something that everyone wants, why are so few of us experiencing it? Is justice a limited commodity?

What is justice really about? Who's fault is it that we don't have it? How important is justice? Why don't we act on it? Why are we starting to put the word "social" in front of "justice"?

How many times have you heard a really good idea that makes the world a better place and thought "Why didn't I think of that?"

How many times have you heard something that made the world a better place and thought "I thought of that once. Why didn't I ever do something about it?" Why don't you do things what you know you should do? Why do you do what you know you shouldn't? How do you change?

If you know what you should be doing and you haven't done it yet, is there hope that you could do it? What will it take for that to happen? Are you waiting for something? If someone paid you to do something good would you enjoy it as much? If nobody payed you to to do something good would you still do it. What if you had to suffer in order to do what was right? Would you still do it then? Would you do it and be angry at those who didn't or would you think good of them? Would you enjoy doing the right thing just because? Would you want others to enjoy it with you? Does God enjoy good works or does He enjoy us doing good works?

Does God care about the right thing? What is He doing about it? Is He real or is He just us at our best? Or are we at our best learning something about God? Either way, why is God and/or our best such a difficult thing to find. If He's us at our best who gets the credit? If good things don't happen is it His fault? Did he fail?

Is Justice worth killing for? Does killing bring about Justice? Who do we have to kill to achieve justice? Do we kill every person who does bad things? How bad do they have to be? Is right and wrong more important or is life?

What about the things that aren't worthy of death? What do they cost us? Are they "no big deal" or do they add up? How do you punish those fairly so that they don't happen anymore? Does punishment fix the damage the wrong creates? Are we fixing the problem or the source?

If everyone wants justice, who are the "wicked" people? Who are the righteous? If everyone thinks about doing good, who are the bad people?

And what does any of this have to do with Jesus?

Is there good news? What would be good news to you right now?

Is reading the Bible any more effective than any other way of making the world a better place? If it is, how? If it isn't, why are we reading it?

--------

These are leading questions. I already have an idea of how I think they should be answered. I wish I didn't. They're easy for the one doing the asking. Sometimes I ask questions I think I know the answers to, but perhaps I do that because It's a cheap way to feel significant.

Maybe I need to loose my idea of being significant because every time I've felt like my life mattered It's been a surprise and I've been in awe and I think "God, why? I didn't deserve this." and I think He smiles and waits for me to worship Him. Sometimes worship actually occurs to me.

I've read that the word in the Bible that we sometimes translate "fear" might better be rendered "awe" or "reverence". Like "Worship the LORD with reverence and rejoice with trembling." (Psalm 2:11) I've always like the way "awe" sounds compared to "fear". After all, if we are trying to convince people God is loving we should get rid of the word "fear" right. I'm wondering though if the kind of "awe" I'm thinking of isn't supposed to be scary. The Psalmist still says "trembling".

How do we get to a place where we ask these questions without a presupposition. What if we get truly risky and ask the questions we are afraid of because we don't know the answers yet. Any chance that would help us worship with awe and rejoice with trembling.

posted by Scott # 1:36 PM 0 comments

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

[untitled]

The story of Jonah
Anxieties about a job
Wondering if I'm praying "enough"
Anxieties about my motives
My growing tendency to talk when I don't know what to say
Anxieties that don't seem to be tied to anything
Depression for what seems like no reason at all
The wounds of all the relationships that haven't worked out
Missing the trees because of the forrest
trying to "hold it together" for small group
Achievement
Apathy
Incessant self analysis
And a pervasive mental image of the apartment complex I lived in while in Seattle.

The above is a list of things I've felt in the last two weeks. I really don't get that last one.

Today is the day that everything seems to turn around and you wonder what happened. It seems too easy that the list isn't still happening. Today is the day where the mystery is why good things happen at all.

Today I want to write. I actually desire to. That's been impossible to find for many days. The kind of writing that has the rhythm of my soul. The way I normally talk when I'm myself. I could probably play guitar today. I can definitely doodle. I'm enjoying music again.

May this be the freedom I take it to be.

I've been speaking big of freedom lately. The freedom that God is a Father and actually loves us. The freedom that religion doesn't understand. The freedom to do something I want to do and still be pleasing to God and a good person. The freedom so free that even though it's mine I can't control it myself. Grace so expensive that I can't make it come.

It just does.

That list above is two weeks of finding out that there are reasons we don't experience that freedom that all the poets, preachers and philosophers (like myself) say we're supposed to.

Today is the day to realize that it's a very arrogant thing to look down on anyone you think isn't experiencing freedom. Today is the day to feel "wicked" for ever saying that you don't think someone has enough faith. Today is the day when you realize how satanic it would be for a church to say we must never face hardships or that there are numbered steps to get out of pain.

Today is a day where you see that God is completely unpredictable and that's a much better thing than we ever could have hoped for.

posted by Scott # 11:06 AM 0 comments

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Details

Some have said I should give details on my trip to Maui. How 'bout this for now?

Day zero I flew from Grand Rapids to Maui stopping only for Chicago, LA and phone calls. On the plane I read a little and slept a little.

Day one we went snorkeling off a clothing optional beach, hiked through a bamboo forest, saw rainbow-barked tree, jumped off a cliff into a the pool beneath a waterfall ate a fish called Ono and wandered the boardwalk of expensive resorts.

Day two we drove around Lahaina-side (which is to say West) Maui, saw where Kate works, saw the Banyan tree that spans a whole block, snorkeled off a clothing required beach, jumped off a cliff into the ocean, and drove a road that often didn't get wider than our car.

Days three and four I took the road to Hana on a motorcycle carving turns and stopping for a black sand beach, roasted coconut, a small farming village and pictures -- lots of pictures. I nearly slept tent-less under the stars. I've never seen so many. But instead my friends Amber and Cortny showed up with a tent. I woke in the middle of the night to watch waves crash against 30 foot lava cliffs by moonlight. In the morning we made oatmeal and opened a coconut, drinking it's milk beneath a Banyan tree. Then we visited the "Seven Pools" (There aren't seven by the way) and jumped off many cliffs until it was time to ride the motorcycle back through the same curves, eat more roasted coconut and take more pictures.

Day five was beach day. We started by walking a half-mile of lava-flow to a place called the Fishbowl where I saw fish that proved to me that nothing any graphic designer has ever done has truly been original. Next we surfed and I chatted with a couple of wonderful Canadians (one being the sweetest two-year old, the other being equally sweet and a bit older).

Day six Charlie and I talked in the morning and went with the Canadians to a couple of fine sights in the hills. That night we went whale watching. This was followed by the men making dinner for the women before going salsa dancing. There were also some wonderful conversations at the Wailea Grand and getting kicked out of the chase lounges.

Day seven was sad. Amber and Corney left. Thankfully I did get to spend some time with one of the Canadians and went to a worship service with the kind of worship music I needed to sing to about then. All I can say is that I wasn't the best example of myself that day.

Day eight I bought souvenirs and called folks back home. We eventually got to hike a ridge. I saw an orchid in the wild and a number of other beautiful sites. That night Kate, Charlie and I talked about motivations and phone calls.

Day nine was church in the morning followed by a trip to Paia for a final souvenir and a side trip to a ghost-town. Kate and I waited for Charlie to get off work. First we waited at the beach. Then we waited at the Wailea Grand. Sadly no cliffs and no Canadians. When Charlie got off work we high-tailed it to the Airport where I flew, tried to sleep, nursed my nostalgia and figured out how to move to Maui.

I'm still working on that last part. And no I'm not joking. As of now the plan is that on the 2nd week of April I stand a pretty good chance of standing on that Island once again.

posted by Scott # 6:30 PM 1 comments

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Poemas -or- being missed

Today I thought about how bummed my roomate was when I told him I might move to Maui. Everyone else to that point was just saying, "You should go for it." I didn't expect it to effect him so negatively. I certainly didn't want him to feel bad, but I was moved by the fact that anyone cared about that. I had to think about it.

As I was walking the snow covered road, over a curb I couldn't see, to a house full of stuff I didn't want anymore, I remembered how Rob, the River pastor, has been calling us as a church to be the kind of church so valuable to the world that if we weren't there people would be worse off. That had a lot of positive, liberal, volunteer-istic feeling to it but it was lacking any kind of personal connection. With my housemate I'd found that. I had a story that made it more than just an altruistic ideal to feel good about.

I was touched, but very humbled. I'd never expected to be missed. I was puzzled because I didn't really do anything out of the ordinary. I was myself with this guy which is to say messy, flawed, honest, too loud sometimes, selfish other times. I tried to be a good friend/housemate/landlord, but I didn't think I'd done much that was as deep as the emotion I saw on this brother's face and heard in his voice. All I could think of was "I was just doing what I had to do. I was just being me." This, in turn, was reminding me of the passage Jesus spoke about being a slave (Luke 17:7-10). The joy and love of being a person someone could miss felt almost like a reward and if that's what it was, I knew I didn't deserve it.

Later that night I was doing laundry at Todd's and talking to Matty, his housemate. We were talking about Greek and Hebrew words and the nuances of the words that we translate as "humble" (This is a part of my Michigan life I'd miss). We moved on to the word "poemas" which is translated as "workmanship" in Ephesians 2:10. This is what I wrote about it in my notes:
"Workmanship - Poemas
"We are not equal to poetry. Don't think of yourself as poetry in the sense of a literary category. Think of a poem you love because it expresses your heart, because that's what we are. We express God's heart and this is connected to "good works" which are to become, not good deeds, but our poetry and the expression of our hearts so that we as children of God bear the image of our Father."

The connection for me was that, had I not been who God had made me to be, I could not have impacted Justin's life the way I did. It was part of the poetic expression of God's love for the guys in my house, not to mention me and the world.

So that personalizes the expression of church. In response to what Rob was saying, to be a Christian or a church that will add to this neighborhood in a dramatic way we must be who we were made to be. It doesn't seem so hard until you realize that someday that kind of church or person will no longer be in fashion the way it seems to be right now. Bono will die someday. Brad Pitt will start to care about something other than AIDS in Africa. Who knows what Oprah might do. But we still have to be who we are in Christ. It may not be at all like who we are today -- because God is so creative -- and it certainly won't be boring, but it may not be popular. Jesus was killed, in a way, for who He was.

Jesus was a poem too.

John 1 describes Him as the Word of God. I know there is a lot of meaning in the word "Word" as it's used here, but right now I'm being drawn back to that word "poemas" from Ephesians. Jesus is the "Word" of God in that He's God's description of Himself. He's a poem or a short story about who God is.

That story has evidence of the righteousness, power and intelligence of God. It shows how objectively good He is and all the things you'd expect, but it's also about the humility and foolishness of a love so crazy as to choose to die so that an unfaithful lover can live. It's a love story and a poem that we're called to live in along side Jesus, but without a script or any acting talent. We play the role of ourselves and we don't even get paid for it. Being in the story is it's own reward.

posted by Scott # 9:56 AM 0 comments