Shooting Stars

Last night was frustrating. It's finals time, and I couldn't focus for my life. I was distracted early in the evening, and I couldn't shake it for the rest of the night. Finally, near midnight, I left my work/school office and went home.

Angry as hell, I went out for a hard run. I never run. Well, maybe three times a year.

I ran maybe three miles, and then I sprinted as far as possibly could until I couldn't feel my legs or breathe. I was praying the whole time. Hard.

I climbed on top of two hay bales in some farmer's field, and poured my heart out to the Lord.

It's been a dark couple of months. I've wrestled to surrender my cynicism. I want so badly to return to my childlike walk with Jesus. So badly. I'd give anything. I wish I could feel again, I wish I could hope, I wish I could be settled in his love.

But I wasn't. The Lord developed my cynicism. I idolized reality. It was terrible.

And then, and then there were three shooting stars, and I was released. I grinned at the tackiness of the exchange, and I was filled with the Spirit's hope again. And oh, my friend, that I could express what I have learned. In joy, in hardship, in success, in failure, in hopefulness, and in cynicism, there is only meaning in Jesus.

Before I am an intellectual, I belong to you. Before I am a musician, I belong to you. Before I am a cynic, I belong to you. Before I am anything that makes up my being, I am your child.

Fill me with your solemn understanding, your corrective cynicism, and your childlike meekness, that I may follow you with all of my being, surrendered, and trusting.

The Child-Like Mandate

"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." –Matthew 18:3-4

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."—Mark 10:14-15

Jesus did not emphasize many statements as a prerequisite for entering the kingdom of God—we would be wise to take it seriously. I am often curious why so little attention is afforded this 'Child-Like Mandate.' The expositions on these passages, and their parallels, that I have heard seem to 'explain them away' more than look for Christ's heart in them. Usually, the passage is reduced to an analogy about faith (children believe their parents without question, so we should believe God without question.)

Mm, maybe that's an alright point, but I think it misses the heart of the issue. In fact, it sort of suggests blind acceptance of Christ's ways which contradicts the biblical concept of honesty—which includes intellectual honesty.

I could point to the child-like qualities that I think Jesus was referring to, but I think that I would miss the point as well. (Although I think it is worthy of note that the one character trait Jesus pointed out in the children was humility.) I think Jesus was pointing to the nature of children as a whole—except their nature—their purity, meekness, love, quickness to forgive, and their faith. Of course, even many children do not reflect child-like traits as they seek to become older, tougher, etc—but most of us, nonetheless, have a general picture of the true nature of childhood.

Shame on us if we grow so enamored with our own 'understanding,' 'success,' and 'confidence' that we neglect the mandate to become as children.

The Un-Owned Soul.

Owned. That describes most of us. All of us.

Cultural analysts point to the current trend to trade in civil freedoms in the name of national security, but that's what has been happening on a social level for decades. We've traded our liberty to think as individuals in exchange for the safety of conformity. In fact, we've been doing it for so long that we're beginning to lose touch with reality. That's the first sign of insanity, and certainly absurdity.

We have forgotten the reality that we are flesh and blood, and we live on a material earth, that exists now, and existed before the twenty-first century. It is real. Our ability to act and choose is real. The fact that we are alive is real. We are a part of history. We can choose to do whatever we wish with our lives.

But we've forgotten that fact. Instead we bow as idolaters before our Golden Culture. Culture is not real—it is manmade. It doesn't exist, it is an idea, an idea that is subject to our approval, not the other way around. We are as described by the prophet Isaiah: He feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him; he cannot save himself, or say, "Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?" (Isaiah 44:20, New International Version).

Sometimes the best medicine is to find a lonely field to sit silently in, feel the dirt with your fingers, imagine the people that walked on it before you, and realize that you are bound to the earth, and the earth is yours. Your life is your own. God gave it to you. This is your one chance to be the image
of God. Don't let presumptuous cultural mores dictate who are and what you do.

Think. Examine. Live.

Remember, you are responsible first to God, and then to the authorities he sets up—and culture is not one of them. (Romans 12).

Samson

I'm in Holland with the boys from the band in which I play bass guitar. We are staying with a missionary-friend we have known for many years.

The other day we were having a conversation about Samson. In my mind, he is one of the most controversial of Israel's judges. Honestly, it is hard for me to find any redemption in his story. God gives him a great gift, he uses it to purue his own desires and get revenge on those who have angered him, he lives lustfully, repeatedly engaging in commitments with the enemies of the people of God, and in the end he displays a great lack of common sense which leads to capture and demise.

Of course, one could argue, we are all imperfect, and God used Samson despite himself to slay a few thousand Philistines--to which I can only offer a sarcastic 'yay.'

So he slayed a few thousand enemies. David's strong men accomplished mightier things. I don't think the point of this story is that God uses imperfect people despite themselves. Although it is true that we are all imperfect, I think there is a difference between a leader who is after the heart of God and, well, Samson.

No, I think a more important point to be drawn from Samson's story is that power without maturity, a gift without a right heart, is very nigh useless.

Many powerful people are proud and protective of their power, but that was never the example of Jesus. Jesus used his power to empower others. In fact, Jesus used his power to empower worldly people. He layed his power down to be a servant, to lift others up, to set an example, to be inclusive, to strengthen the weak. In fact, he said that if the strong wish to follow him, they must become weak.

We all have gifts. At one place or another, we are all 'powerful' people. The question is whether we will use our power like Jesus, for others, or like Samson, for ourselves. Samson could have changed the world. Jesus did.

Gum Wrappers and Hope for Romania

The last couple days my friend Rik from Belgium and I have been playing soccer with some Romanian kids we met here in Baia Mare. Two days ago we gave them some gum during a break and they immediately threw their wrappers on the ground. Rik and I playfully scolded them.

"This isn't America!" They replied.

"Oh?" I said, "And who's going to change Romania?"

"Basescu!" They laughed. (Basescu is the president.)

"You have to be the change." I smiled. (Of course, all that was in Romanian.)

Anyways, yesterday we all took a piece of gum during a break again. Without a word, they collected their wrappers and handed them to the oldest to throw away.

While gum wrappers may not be a big deal, what I learned from this funny little anecdote is that their is hope for Romania in its children. Let's do all that we can to encourage them to be that hope.

Învaţ

Everyday I study and converse with an assorted group of 34 other persons also studying Romanian, representing 15 or 16 different countries. My mornings are spent soaking my brain with grammar lessons--which are never given in english. During the afternoon I listen to lectures in Romanian, throw pottery at a little Romanian pottery shop, go out into Romanian villages, or play soccer to get some exercise. In the evenings I usually watch Romanian films, do my Romanian homework, and then either go out with some fellow students or complete some personal writing.

Essentially, I eat, drink, and breathe Romanian. It's excellent.

The multi-cultured table conversations have been enormously enlightening. I wouldn't trade this experience for the world. It is stretching me in many ways.

So, despite many setbacks, my heart steadfastly trusts that his love will win in the end.

Amen.

The road is as home to me as my sheets.

I’m in Amsterdam at the moment, visiting my lovely musician friend Leslie for a few days. Friday I leave to study Romanian in northern Romania for three weeks. Then I’ll return to Amsterdam to meet up with the boys from the band I play in. Perhaps we’ll write an album while we’re here, but we won’t be playing any shows since we lost our vocalist.

I love my friends at home, I have a wonderful family, but traveling has become an addiction for me. It is nourishment for my bones.

The Lord has me close to his heart. Close enough that its beating occasionally succeeds in drowning out noise of my cynical thoughts. That’s necessary now. He holds on to me, and I love him, and he is giving me his eyes.

Brilliant.

The traveling has been smooth thus far. Leslie stays with a lovely family with three small, energetic children. Although I’ve not met him yet, there is a young man staying here from Britain, and apparently he is a soccer player, so I’m excited to do some skill building!

Soulful

Jazz music. Sometimes I find life very frustrating, other times it is quite friendly--but it is always difficult to understand. Solomon said that with wisdom comes much sorrow. Sorrow, because there is always another side, and you can never know. Sorrow, because people live in tragic filth because of their ignorance. Sorrow, because the world is content to live in its self-defined structures without regarding the fact they built them.

So, jazz music. Jazz music understands the turmoil of life and takes it in without offering an answer. Answers only become stale. Except Jesus. But Jesus isn't really an answer, although we treat him like one. No, he was a son. A son of the most high God.

He's kind of like jazz music. He took life in. He saw people. He loved them. He helped them. He didn't always fix them, but he pointed them toward a cure for their meaninglessness: love. Not that love was a new idea, but he defined it in a different way. He defined it by undefining it, and just living it.

As for our precious cultural and religious institutions, I can only quote the prophet Isaiah, "He feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him; he cannot save himself, or say, 'Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?'"

We have idolized our ways of doing things, but we have too much to lose to rock the boat. Sorry, sorry excuse for rational beings.

Mmhm.

Honestly, sometimes I struggle with the nihilism in my own soul. Epistemology is a waste of time, but it's frustrating to ponder the absurdity of our lives. Solomon wrote extensively on the subject. Of course, there is recognizable beauty in life, and we should pursue it, but we must be careful not to take ourselves too seriously, because the truth is we don't know the answers. I don't know the answers. I only know Jesus. And I know him by faith, his faith in me as much as my faith in him. He held on to me when I could no longer hold on to him, and so I've devoted myself to him.

But that doesn't mean I understand. It only means that I trust.

It is true that the traditional foundations of our faith are under question. A lot of Christians seem to be concerned. I don't think I have the energy to be concerned. After all, we serve a God who has said that he values honesty. We shouldn't avoid the reality of our own ignorance, we should face it, as genuine human beings. If God is really God, he certainly is capable of defending and continuing his faith.

Really though, I'm glad our esteemed institutions are toppling. I think it's hilarious. They have become ironically arrogant anyways. Jesus didn't teach superiority, he taught meekness. If anything, I think we are returning to faith. God is humbling the world—Christians and non-christians alike. It's like the tower of Babel. We thought we could accomplish anything, that we had become like gods, but now we can't even decide if we exist.

Let's return to the simplicity of Christ's message. There is only hope in faith and in love.

p.s. Aaron is home from the hospital, doing very well. I have been reading 'Three' by Ted Dekker to him, and taking him out on his wheelchair so he can smoke cigarettes in the nice weather.

A time for mourning.

On Sunday, four of my friends from the youth ministry I work at were in a car accident. The driver died, the passenger almost died, and the two in the back were fine.

I spoke at the driver's funeral on Friday. At least two hundred teenagers took off school to attend. I've been visiting the passenger in the hospital every day.

It's been real hard for everyone, of course. Nonetheless, I am seeing Jesus' love show up everywhere in this situation. It's been an excellent opportunity for me to love on the boy who was in the passenger seat. He broke two vertebrae in his neck, lost half of his left-index finger, broke his ankle, bruised his lung, and has plenty of stitches, but he is alive. I sit with him, read to him, bring his family food--it's been a real relational time, and although it has made my already busy life nearly impossible, I can't convince myself that there is anything better to do than go show that boy Christ's love. He does after all have a long road ahead of him.

Here's my plug for Regent: being an online student, I have been able to take my computer to the hospital many times this week. When Aaron (the kid) fell asleep, I'd type away, and when he woke up, I would talk to him. I love the flexibility of learning online, even though I sometimes wish I had more interaction with other intellectuals.

Oh yeah, it's been quite a week. The Lord gives me strength, of this I have zero doubt. Even when my legs give way, I don't fall. His plan is for me to be able right now, and so I am.

Romania

I worked at a boys school called Fundatia Crestina Ioan (The Christian John Foundation.) FCI takes in around 20 boys ages 16-18 (or thereabouts) that come from orphanages or hard economic situations. The program is two years, and they teach the boys carving, carpentry, English, a few computer basics, etc. Life skills. Furthermore, they show the boys the love of Jesus Christ, and they share his gospel with them. The ministry is just large enough to do everything well, and just small enough for the staff to be very personal with the boys.

After the harrowing adventure getting there (which turned out to be a long story) I was able to spend two weeks with the boys. For the most part I did what they did. I woke early, ate, did chores, learned to carve, played soccer, etc. I also taught them lots of games, through occasional hot-chocolate-and-cookies parties, did some driving for them in their stick-shift mini-bus, bought them boxing gloves and a few other items, led some bible studies, and loved on them as much as I possibly could every waking minute I had.

A spoonful of chaos helps the medicine go down. There is simply nothing better than getting a group of Romanian guys my age all riled up and excited to do crazy things, all with an underlying message of Christ's love. And a little bit of blood from that nice left hook while boxing.

Power is a joke. Love always wins in the end, but it requires a lot of meekness to love at all times, and sometimes meekness feels like weakness, and sometimes others perceive meekness as weakness, but nonetheless, love always wins in the end. You just have to trust that, because Jesus said to, above all else, love him and love others. Love doesn't always look like we expect it to, but it never looks like selfishness, arrogance, or social competition.

Fresh air, baby. That's all.

So, Thursday I leave for Romania. I have far too many things to get done before then. But my Lord is always faithful to me. Which is good, because it's moments like these that bring painful clarity to my incompetence.

So, I was telling my dad about my plan of attack:

I get off the plane in Bucharest, try and find a bus to the train station, find a train to the city I'm going to, try to find the bus station there to get a bus to the little village I'm going to, try to remember which direction to walk for two miles once I get into the village in order to find FCI (the ministry I'll be working at). I am fairly confident in my plan, but there is of course much room for logistical failure due to traveling delays, and the occasional railway strikes. Besides the fact that I'm going to be weeping tired after a full day of traveling, and I'm going to have to manage all of it with my extremely limited knowledge of Romanian.

"Wow, son, you're really manly, just going out on your own like that." - my dad.

Mmhm. I love my dad. :)

FCI is a two-year school for boys ages 16-20 (or so). It is a very smart ministry. They bring hope to the boys' lives by teaching them useful trades, who in turn bring hope to the country by supporting its economy. The school is large enough that it is run well, but small enough that the handful of staff are able to be very personal in sharing the good new of Jesus Christ with the boys. Love it.

Flat

I've been thinking a lot recently about how pain and suffering give definition to joy and hope.

Our forefathers shed their blood to make this nation free; they were very alive, and their lives had meaning because of the cause they fought for and the brotherhood it brought about.

Today we live in a free nation. Old veterans always complain that young people take their freedom for granted. Young people, though few articulate it, feel at a loss for meaning. In a culture where suffering is rare, complancency has grown dominate, and life has become superficial.

Realistically, those who have neither experienced personal suffering, nor sacrificed to alleviate another's suffering, have no ability to feel true joy. Nor do they know what it feels like to be really alive.

Maybe pain and discomfort aren't the enemies afterall.