Preposition trouble

I am a fan of Looney Tunes cartoons.  They were a staple of my childhood and I am therefore warmly nostalgic.  And I still find them funny - which cannot be said of other things I found funny in earlier years.  There are a few featuring Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd all about whether it is duck season or rabbit season.  In one of these - well it's easier to show it than explain it.  Please note where Daffy Duck discovers the shift from "shoot me now" to "shoot you now."

He realizes that there is "pronoun trouble."  And indeed parts of speech do give us trouble from time to time.

Take prepositions for example.  They say (whoever "they" are) that the sure sign that you have mastered a new language is that you get the prepositions right.  Having studied one or two I would agree.  In English we say "I am going to school."  Translated into French it is "Je vais à l'école."  The tricky bit is that the little character "à" can be translated into English as "to" and "at".  Thus some francophones learning English might say "I am going at the school."  Preposition trouble.

And there is always preposition trouble in translation.  Take Jesus words in Matthew 4:17 "Repent for the kingdom of heaven is at had."  The troublesome preposition here is "for", which in the original Greek text is the nearly ubiquitous "gar", translated "for" or "because".

Before I proceed, I want to give an image of what I see when I hear that phrase, "Repent for the kingdom of heaven is near."

You might have a similar image.  My point is that the line suggests generally to me "stop your bad behavior before it is too late."  It is a call to change to avoid the coming wrath.  But it is always worth looking at the context.

Starting in Matthew 4:12 we read:

Now when he heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew into Galilee. And leaving Nazareth he went and lived in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
“The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali,
the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles—
the people dwelling in darkness
have seen a great light,
and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death,
on them a light has dawned.”
From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
(Matthew 4:12-17 ESV)

Context.  It matters so much.  Extracted from the context, the anticipation is coming wrath.  In the context it seems rather like something else.  "The people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light,"  indeed "on them a light has dawned."  It feels rather more like good news than bad.

And this causes me to reconsider the preposition "gar."  Perhaps translating it as "because" helps a little. "Repent because the kingdom of heaven is near."  The invitation to repent is BECAUSE his gracious kingdom is at hand.  Repent because on us a great light has dawned.

And this makes more sense to me.  Because experientially, I am only really able to repent, to have the confidence to repent when I am first have seen the Great Light.  It is the nearness of the kingdom, granting us the capacity to have at least a taste of it that inclines us to repentance.  To be clear, repentance is and always will mean stopping bad behavior (or taking up neglected good behavior), but it comes BECAUSE the kingdom of heaven is near, because we have smelt its aroma and long for the better country.

St. John reminds us:

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.
(1 John 4:18 ESV)

True repentance is not a response of fear, but a response to love, to the nearness of the kingdom of God.

Discipleship

A friend of mine took the tremendous trouble to transcribe a sermon I preached on discipleship.  (Perhaps my friend needs a hobby...)  Taking advantage of his hard work I am publishing it to this blog.  Full disclosure: it is rather longer than my usual posts.

--------------------------

I was an odd, geeky sort of child. I spent a lot of time reading encyclopedias in my spare time for fun. And I learned a lot reading the encyclopedias. So if I spend a lot of time reading Wikipedia and I’m learning, am I a disciple?

I would say I am learning, but I am not a disciple. A disciple is one who learns how to be like someone else. Discipleship is not stuffing information into people’s heads. It is not that. It never will be that. It never was that, although sometimes we call that discipleship.

What does the Great Commission say? “Go and make disciples”–people who are learning to be like someone else–”of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

Baptism is death to the old life and rising to the new, and it is also a grafting in to the body. It is that rite by which we become members of the Church. It is that rite by which we receive the spirit of adoption by which we cry “Abba, Father”.

Discipleship happens in community. Always. It never doesn’t happen in community. Can I grow and be a disciple of Jesus Christ and commune with him in my prayer closet by myself? No, you can’t, actually. I know it sounds pious and lovely, but you cannot. It does not happen outside the initiation into the body.

And that is why reading Wikipedia doesn’t make me a disciple. And that’s why, interestingly enough, if your entire Christian life is reading your Bible by yourself, it doesn’t make you a disciple. I realize that may be a challenging thought.

So Jesus goes on and says, “Baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.”

This is an important line as a reminder of whom we are to be like. Discipleship is the formation of Christ in us. It is the shaping of the character of Christ in each of us.

But what is obedience? Some of us would think that obedience is compliance. Compliance is not obedience. Compliance is following the rules so as not to get into trouble.

Is compliance part of obedience? I would say, yes. But the issue is this: For it to be obedience and not just compliance, there  has to be a person in the mix. And here’s the other thing that makes it more than just compliance: When we are complying to rules so as not to get into trouble, it’s because we don’t actually love the rules. We hate the rules. Despise the rules.

Obedience doesn’t just do the good. It loves the good, and it loves the one who has commanded the good. Obedience is a free choice out of love to do what our Lord commands, not to avoid wrath but to express love.

It’s not just compliance, because that’s legalism: I have to do this, this and this to stay out of trouble. There’s no relationship in that, is there? There may be a relationship of fear, but there’s not a relationship of love. Just doing the right thing isn’t enough. God is calling us to love the right thing, which is larger than that.

So how do you teach obedience? How do you teach this response of love to the commandments of good?

I think there are three things. Two of them are classic, and one is a recent addition by my friend Justin Howard, which I think is an awesome addition.

We teach obedience by orthodoxy, which is right teaching. We teach the truth about who God is: the God of love, the God of justice, the God of compassion. The nature of Jesus and His sacrifice on the cross. What that means to us in very real terms. We teach about the nature of the Church. We help people understand that [having your personal relationship with Jesus all by yourself] isn’t good enough.

But then there’s orthopraxis, which is right practice. We teach not just the right information. We teach how we should act in the right way. How our actions are right. How we respond in a right way in [different] circumstances.

And a big part of this kind of teaching is, of course, modeling. Showing people. Living that out. “This is how you love your enemies.” “This is how you pray for those who persecute you.” “This is how you live in openness and obedience.” “This is how you live in relationship in the light with God and with others.”

Part of it also is instruction on right action. “In this situation, this is an appropriate thing to do.” “In this situation, this is not an appropriate thing to do.”

So, orthodoxy–the right doctrine. Orthopraxis–the right way of behaving. And here’s the one I think is really important: Orthopathos. It’s Justin Howard’s word. It’s right feeling.

To create disciples, we need to know what the doctrine is, we need to know what the practice is, and we also need to know how to order our disordered loves.

And we don’t do that! We give people the information: “God loves you and if you do something wrong, you’re going to be in trouble. Therefore, do all these things.” And we don’t address our disordered loves. The orthopathos. To feel right. To respond right.

And why this is important is because [of] the command, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself”. We cannot do that with disordered loves. We can be excellent Pharisees (Editor’s note: legalists): right teaching, right practice, and have completely diseased and disordered internal lives.

And that, friends, is not a disciple. That’s a liar.

You know what I think? I think most of us have a reasonably good handle on orthodoxy. We have a reasonably good handle on orthopraxis. And, I think, a lot of us struggle with disordered loves and have no idea [as to], ‘How do I do this?’

And here’s the struggle: I can’t give you information to do that. I can’t say, “If you’ve got disordered loves, you should do A, B, C and D.”

Because it’s about relationship.

This is why programs will never do it all. Because people need more than information. They need someone to love them, to walk with them in their disordered loves, and bring order to them.

So what’s necessary for discipleship?

Well, clearly teaching is necessary for discipleship. Orthodoxy, orthopraxy and orthopathy all have elements that have to be taught. Who is God that we may love Him? How is it that Jesus’ death sets us free? How does the Holy Spirit empower us? What disciplines of life will till the soil for godly growth? How does Jesus’ saving work redeem me from my disordered loves? That is information, and the information matters.

But even if I were to be taught until I could be taught no more, does that make me a disciple? No. It might make me a conference junkie, but not a disciple. Remember, the body has to be both fed and exercised. We need community and belonging. Being in relationship matters. We cannot be disciples outside of community.

And here’s the central part of what discipleship is about: Discipleship is about being in relationship with a person or persons with whom I am willing to learn.

These are apprenticeship relationships.

Here are the problem with apprenticeship relationships:  You can’t read a book and go to a seminar, and Poof! It’s done! How frequently we [think that]! We’re struggling with something, we go off to some event and we think, “I’ll be done when I’m finished [with] this.” Apprenticeship takes time.

And we hate that! Why can’t I have this fixed now? Why can’t I have my loves ordered now? Why can’t I know how to do the right things now? Why? Because we’re not designed that way. We’re designed to live in apprenticeship. And apprenticeship is over time with a mentor or mentors. It is not about fast results. You might be in a rush. Jesus is not.

 I love [in the hymn] “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise”, the line that says “Unresting”–He’s not lollygagging by the side of the pool–”and unhasting”. He’s always acting, but He’s not in a rush.

But here’s the other problem: To live in a discipleship or mentorship relationship requires humility. To be in relationship with someone from whom I am willing to be taught.

It is profoundly un-American because it makes the declaration: We are not all equal. And we’re not. Of course, on one level we are equal before God. I get that. But in another sense, friends, we are not! We are absolutely not!

There are people in my life (and I’m going to use this language) who are my spiritual masters. They’re not just a little more mature or have seen a little more. They have seen and understand this life in a way that I might someday, but I don’t yet. I am not equal with them. They have walked farther and gone deeper, and suffered more. They know the “ortho”s better than I do.

The greatest barrier to discipleship, I think, is, “I can do it myself. I will not submit to the wisdom of another.” Sometimes we pretend that we will, but we actually won’t. I worked with a guy some years ago for a long, long time, and all the stuff on the outside [said], “Yes, I want to listen,”, but [he] listened to nothing. You can’t come to somebody in a mentorship relationship and not listen, not live in obedience on some level.

 So one of the hard things is that in order to make disciples, you must be one first, which requires a sacrifice of pride and the cultivation of humility.

I want to leave you with two questions:

[First,] where am I becoming a disciple? Who are the mentors in my life? Who are the people from whom I am willing to learn?

And the second question is this: Who am I discipling? In whom am I investing? Because that’s the work of the church. To invest in people. The investment might be our friend who doesn’t know Jesus, or it could be another believer who wants to learn and wants to grow. Either way, who am I discipling? Because the Church will [never] truly grow until we become and create a culture of discipleship.

 I want to say one last thing about the Great Commission. Jesus said, “And ‘lo, I am with you always, even until the end of the age.” In the reality of doing this work, we live in the presence and the power of Jesus in us at all times.

The last thing the world needs is more Anglicans

I just returned from a four-day denominational meeting.  To call it a meeting is to miss the real flavor of the gathering.  It was more of a denominational extravaganza or festival.  Would that more “meetings” were thus.

It was, in essence, a missions conference with spectacular teachers and presenters,  profound, inspiring and funny (never underestimate the importance of funny).  It was also very Anglican with several large liturgical services with processions of scores of robed clergy, a thundering pipe organ, and hundreds of faithful voices singing classic hymns, good contemporary music, some William Byrd and other composers.  On top of this was dynamic and faithful preaching coupled with the sacrament rightly and duly administered. It enlarged and filled my heart and thus my capacity to love.

But it has left me with an important question: what is the role of denominational distinctiveness? 

The meeting was distinctly and unmistakably Anglican and, I attest, a great blessing.    All that being said this must also be said: The last thing the world needs is more Anglicans... UNLESS THEY ARE ALSO CHRISTIAN.

But, you might object, Anglicans ARE Christian.  It is a Christian denomination.  Sadly that is not necessarily the case.  It’s a Venn diagram.  Some Christians are Anglican, not all.  Some Anglicans are Christians, not all.

You see, it is very easy, perhaps in the case of Anglicanism especially, to love the expression and not necessarily what is expressed.  One can easily fall in love with the procession, the parade, the music, the beauty, the reverence and miss entirely the One in whose honor and for whose glory it all happens. 

We must never forget that our worship and praise is toward a very real and personal God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  More particularly that our procession and praise are in response to the God who loves us, despite our selfishness, brokenness and smallness of spirit (the Biblical word for these is sin).    And that love is so remarkable, it worthy of full-hearted and awesome (in the original sense of that word) public expression.

But it is not, and must not be the expression that we FIRST love.  It must be Jesus.  All for Jesus, all for Jesus.  This is the cry of the Church.   We don’t need more Anglicans but we could use more Christians.

BUT, unlike some who would suggest that the expression distracts us from the message and thus would dump the expression, I contend, and fervently, that it does quite the opposite, it leads us to God in Jesus Christ.  I once had a youth pastor working for me who was, at least initially, less warm to Anglican expression than I am (although this may be said of many people).  We had numerous conversations about “empty ritual” that were challenging and engaging for both of us I think.  Yet one day I remarked, “In some church services, if the sermon is poor you’re hosed.  You’ve got nothing.  But in an Anglican service, at least you will hear the Gospel in the prayer of consecration.”  This, by the way, is not an excuse for Anglicans to offer anything less than excellence in preaching.  My point is that the tradition, the expression, directs our attention to Jesus and does so relentlessly*.

This is one of the reasons I love Anglicanism and delight in this particular expression of Christian faith.  There are many other reasons including its historic faithfulness to the Creeds and the Scriptures (a subject for another time).

But first things first.   Being in a living relationship with God in Christ Jesus is THE first thing.  Without that nothing else really matters.  But given that life-changing reality, I find that Choral Evensong, the Word and Sacrament together, the Sursum Corda and Angus Dei all go a long way to lead me ever closer to the Lamb.

*Notwithstanding some appalling, sentimental and often pagan hymns published in more recent Anglican and Episcopal hymnbooks, but that’s a rant for another time. 

The multiple liberties of forgiveness

As I have noted in past, Queen Elizabeth has been giving some really good Christmas messages in recent years.  To quote her 2011 message, "Forgiveness lies at the heart of the Christian faith."  Forgiveness is undervalued - by me among others.  There is an eternal value to forgiveness.  It is reconciliation with God, who is the source of all life.  Without that reconciliation we are, as St. Paul says, "Dead in our trespasses." (Ephesians 2:1)  And that kind of dead is really long term.

So there in an eternal liberty for us in the forgiveness we find in Jesus Christ.  That's the critical one.  But there are a few temporal liberties that are worth considering.

Forgiveness, and specifically forgiveness in Jesus makes us free from mendacity, to be people of truthfulness.  The connection between forgiveness and truth may not be immediately obvious.  Let me set it up for you.  We lie about ourselves, particularly our faults and failings - sins to use the biblical term.  We don't want people to know.  Sometimes we don't even want ourselves to know - enter the myriad of excuses for the stuff we know we should not do, or should have done and didn't.

But when we have received forgiveness, the sting of our sin is removed.  Speaking the truth to Jesus and coming clean with him makes us free to do the same with others.  "Wait.", he says, "I find it easier to tell that kind of truth to God privately, but telling other people, there's the problem."  Then I wonder if I have understood, fully grasped what forgiveness really is.  It is the removal of sin - it erasure.  And here is what we must remember, again in the words of St. Paul, "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31)  Being justified and forgiven by God means, and really means, that there is no longer any condemnation.  Our friends and neighbors might judge us - and some do - but it just doesn't matter.  "It is God who justifies, who is to condemn?"  (Romans 8:33-34)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer says it this way:
Complete truthfulness is only possible where sin has been uncovered, and forgiven by Jesus.  Only those who are in a state of truthfulness through the confession of their sin to Jesus are not ashamed to tell the truth wherever it must be told.  (The Cost of Discipleship, chapter 11)

In forgiveness we have the freedom to speak the truth.  We are no longer afraid of the disgrace of our sin.  That indeed is liberty.

But wait, there's more.  Freedom from vengeance.  This has more to do with extending forgiveness than receiving it. Here we will consider Klingons as an illustration of a kind of culture.  The fictional (and friends it  fictional; there are no real Klingons.)   The fictional culture of the Klingons is based on honor - living and dying honorably.  And when one is dishonored there is shame and rejection by others.  When shamed or dishonored, Klingons seek vengeance and retribution.  The one who has shamed or dishonored me must be made to pay.

To make it more real, this is also the nature of gang culture.  To be bested, to be sinned against causes shame which demands vengeance.  To make it even more real, it is the nature of my heart.  When another shames me, I want to strike back, to get even.  I must regain my honor.  Think Eliza Doolittle and 'Enry 'Iggins - just you wait (also previously noted here).

But forgiveness is about guilt - acknowledging that guilt, and being absolved - being done with it.  And this brings liberty.  Margaret Visser, in her book The Geometry of Love, says this:

But if no one will forgive, then human beings have no recourse but to a shame/revenge mechanism.  Here, people are defined by what they have done, or by what other people have done in their name...   Christianity advocates forgiveness, which enables human beings to feel guilt rather than shame for the wrong they have done - guilt being preferable to shame precisely because guilt, unlike shame, can be forgiven.  Revenge, which is indispensable for the recuperation of honour after its loss through shame, can be renounced if guilt replaces shame.*

Vengeance and the desire for it, pervades our every experience of personal injustice, real or imagined.  Having received mercy, however, we are free to extend mercy - to give up revenge and break the cycle of sin.  Here we experience a liberty ourselves, but we also extend a liberty to others.


*Margaret Visser, The Geometry of Love, Harper Collins, Toronto, 2000  p.131

Seek ye first

Seek ye first the kingdom of God (Matthew 6:33)

I have been thinking about this little text - a part of Jesus' sermon on the mount.  It is a familiar one and for a certain generation of Christians evokes an over-sung worship chorus.  It is really solid advice and I am down with it.  But I have a question: How?  How does one seek first the kingdom of God? 

Well, when in doubt, check what the text says - in this case what Jesus says about it in Matthew.  Sadly, in this context, Jesus' focus is not the "how-to".  The above mentioned line comes at the end of Jesus' discussion or rather illustration of God's provision for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field.  These illustrations, in turn, come just after his command that we not be anxious about our life, "what you will eat or what you will drink." (Matthew 6:25)  Which, in turn, comes right after this statement:

"No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other.  You cannot serve God and money" (Matthew 6:24)

So here is how all the dots connect.  You can only serve one master - God or money.  You are anxious and afraid about having "enough".  Anxiety about having enough is a sign that we are serving the money master, not God.  The illustrations of God feeding the birds of the air and clothing the field in beauty are there to remind us that God is quite the provider. That there is no need to worry about having enough, he's always provding enough.  So therefore seek first his kingdom and all these other things will be added.  The "seek ye first" command is the imperative which flows from the "You cannot serve God and money" declarative.

You can't serve God and money, therefore seek first the kingdom of God.  Pick one.  The right one. It is classic God.  Presenting us with options and then telling us which to choose - without coersion I parenthetically add.  We see a similar thing in Deuteronomy: 

I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse.  Therefore choose life...  (Deuteronomy 30:19)

So in the sermon on the mount, Jesus is making the options clear to us.  Be enslaved to money and worry, or seek the kingdom of God.  I'm down the latter option - seeking the kingdom of God.  But how?

There was a time when I would have confidently said this is it:  Live a morally good life, study the scritpures, and pray.  Sound simple, no?  But I find myself in the place of the rich young ruler who said, "All these I have kept.  What do I still lack?"  (Matthew 19:20) The morality of my life, and my diligence in study and prayer are open to the judgement of God, of course.  I am aware of a number of failings in those departments.  But my point is not how well I have sought the kingdom according those criteria, but rather, "What do I still lack?"  Because I do still lack something - at least it seems that way to me.

In both the sermon on the mount text and in the story of the rich young ruler cited here, God's competitor is wealth, money.  The rich guy went away because Jesus told him to sell his considerable wealth, give to the poor and then to follow him.  I cannot go further in trying to understand what it means to seek his kingdom without starting here.  Money, or preoccupation with it, is in the way.

I cannot serve God and seek his kingdom, and be first concerned with the security of wealth - by wealth I mean reasonable comfort not an island in the Carribean.  This kind of hits me between the eyes right now.  My salary has recently been reduced.  I am developing ways of making up the difference, but find myself a little anxious and fearful about what we shall eat and what we shall wear.  That underlines problem number One in my quest to seek his kingdom.  I am trying to serve two masters.

My immediate defense is that I need to concern myself with the practical realities of housing, feeding and clothing my family.  Mustn't be so heavenly minded that I am no earthly good, as they say.  But Jesus presents us with a relationship to God which actually excludes my "concern" for practical realities.  And by concern I mean worry.  The "no earthly good" critique seems rather out of place.  In Jesus, God is our Father who loves and provides for very earthly realities:

"Therefore do not be anxious saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?'  For the Gentiles (the ones who don't have this relationship with God) seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all." (Matthew 6:31-32)

God knows what I need.  So leave that worry aside.  Until I do that there is no seeking of his kingdom.  That is a beginning place.

Beating a dead horse

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago (Temperance) that the village I grew up in was a tourist attraction - a village restored to its 1860s glory.  Glory is perhaps a large word to describe it - I might be overselling.  In any case, one of the attractions of the village was a ride in a wagon pulled by a team of plodding draught horses.  "Plodding" and "draught horses" will help you understand that this was not a Kentucky Derby nor a Ben Hur chariot race experience.  Exciting it was not.  But it was charming and kids always loved it.  Delightful and uneventful.  Except for one day.

They say you can tell the age of a horse by checking its teeth.  I have never learned that particular interpretive skill, and have no plans to develop it.  But if I had done, and then checked the horses that day, I might have known that for one of them the "best before" date had expired.  Which is what he did on the ride.  Expired.  Sadly I did not witness this village excitement, but the tale spread like only town gossip can.

My source was our neighbor, whose family owned the local garage and the only tow truck in town.  "What's the connection?" you might ask.  How else does one remove the remains of a large (think Budwiser Clydesdale) equine?  The tow truck was called and we were later regaled with details of the said towing.  My neighbor discovered something of which I would not immediately think.   It seems that death reduces a physical body's ability for bladder control.

Why am I telling you this cheaply sensationalist story?  It was the only amusing way I could think of to introduce the idea of beating a dead horse.  I know that no beating occurred. But there was a dead horse. And that's something.*

To beat a dead horse is to waste time and energy on something that is not going to change.  And it is recommended that one does not beat a dead horse.  This bit of pithy advice is in contrast to widely distributed upteenth generation photocopies of a half-swallowed frog gripping the neck of a very hungry egret with the caption, "Never, never, never give up."  Now I admire tenacity, but not all situations call for tenacity.  There is a time, the writer Ecclesiastes tells us, for everything.  And to the point, "a time to search and a time to give up." (Ecclesiates 3:6, NIV)

So why am I so reticent to give up on things?  Because culturally, I think, to give up is to fail.  It has a  negative moral connotation.   Furthermore, if someone were to ask me, "are you going to give up?" or more likely, "are you JUST going to give up?" I would immediately feel ashamed of my failure and lack of stick-to-it-iveness.  (And if the "just" is included in the question the shame comes in the package, free of charge.)  It is just wrong to give up - I think so, as does the one who has asked me.  But, there IS a time to give up.

If you want to continue to think about this biblically, and include another barnyard animal in the bargain, I would direct your attention to Jesus' words, "Do not cast your pearls before swine." (Matthew 7:6)  Or his advice to the disciples as they went out two by two, "and if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town." (Matthew 10:14)  Both of these sound kind of givey-uppy to me.  But in both, Jesus himself tells us that there ARE things that are not a good use of our time and effort. And sometimes those things are particular people - not to put too fine a point on it.  There is a time to call it quits and to spare the poor sad horse.  And not to feel ashamed of it.

The difficulty is, as always, in discerning when is the time to be the half-swallowed frog and when is the time to let the horse alone.  It is beyond the scope of this modest text or my equally modest abilities to suggest a method of discernment.  But the discernment problem does not change the fact that, whatever "people" might say, there really is no point in beating a dead horse.



*My motivating philosophy in life is, "If you can't be good at it, at least be funny."

Afraid. And proud of it

I have a few guilty pleasures.  One example: I hide and hoard milk chocolate when I get it.  The guilty part is that it is MILK chocolate.  In the circles I run with, dark chocolate is the preference of the highbrow, cultivated palate.  I would rather eat nothing than dark chocolate.  It holds zero temptation for me.  But the lowbrow milk chocolate - that’s a horse of a different color.  I have two 100 gram bars of it hidden in my desk this very moment (and will now need to hide it somewhere else in case my children read this).

But I have been thinking about a guilty displeasure recently.  Fear.  You can call it fear or call it anxiety but it is what we feel whenever we find ourselves up against something bigger than ourselves.  Which, if you think about it, is quite a lot of the time.  It’s not pleasurable as a feeling itself. On top of that you aren’t supposed to be afraid.  Or that’s what I hear.

Faith is about trusting in God.  And if I trust in God, well then, I have nothing to feel anxious about.  God is bigger than anything.  In spite of this solid theological assertion I find myself feeling afraid from time to time. Viola, the guilty displeasure.  Clearly I haven’t enough faith because if I did, I wouldn’t feel afraid.  Not only am I anxious I am an anxious infidel. Fail.

I think this way of thinking utterly wrong-headed. Here’s the problem.  Someone, perhaps me, has assumed that having “negative” emotions as somehow morally or spiritually wrong.  I feel sad.  I shouldn’t because God loves me.  I feel afraid.  I shouldn’t because God is bigger than my problem.  My feelings then are evidence of my faithlessness.  That’s the wrong-headed bit.

Here’s a tip for life: Never use “should” or its negation in a sentence containing an emotive state.  Examples: I should feel happy.  I shouldn’t feel angry.  Nonsensical.  And unhelpful because the should statement doesn’t change the feeling - it just seasons it with shame.

Fear, or sadness or anger for that matter, is a fact of life.  There are things that are scary, that seem to be or actually are bigger than me.  There are things that could actually bring me hurt or harm.  Not feeling fear would be a sign that I do not have a firm grasp on the reality of the situation.

I feel all sorts of things that are negative and that does NOT mean I have a defect of faith.  Emotions exist for a reason.  They are part of God’s design in us.  Gifts, actually.  They tell us something.  In the case of fear, that something is looming large and, in some way, threatening.  I then need to ask, “What is that something?”

I am not here advocating a state of cowardly living.  The fear tells me something threatens.  Once I know what the something is I have to decide what to do about that threat. And I do need to face it in some way. Here’s where the faith comes in - trusting to God what I have to do to face that fear.  Trusting in God when I need to step out and take action in faith.  Or trusting by doing nothing, having faith that God will deliver me.    

In that exercise of faith I must be truthful and realistic. I have experienced God’s intervention or empowerment a hundred times in the past I know he will come through.  He does not fail.  But I still tremble a little.  To take away that fear, or a sadness is to make me less human.

I think of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.  Threatened with the fate of the fiery furnace they stuck to their guns and refused to bow down to Nebuchadnezzar. (Daniel 3)  Courageous men they were.  Faithful men.  That does not mean they were not afraid.  They say to Nebuchadnezzar:

“O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. BUT IF NOT, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up.” Daniel 3:16-18, ESV, emphasis mine.

I want you to pay attention to the BUT IF NOT.  There was a question. And there is always a question in matters of real faith and trust.  And where there is a question, an unknown, there is fear or anxiety.  They were undaunted in their resolve not because of an eradication of fear, but in refusing to let fear be the last word.

So I cling to my guilty pleasures and displeasures.  Afraid and proud of it.