I had a professor in college who challenged all of us to be passionate . . . about anything. Throughout the semester he often said that it didn’t really matter what we were passionate about, just that we cared deeply enough about a cause, a line of work, or an area of study to give ourselves completely to it. Half-heartedness was our greatest enemy as we took steps into adulthood. I was moved and spent quite a bit of time afterwards pondering what I could care about so deeply to have it direct my life in the way that the teacher described. While I claimed to follow Jesus at the time, the idea of making God the focus of my passion did not come to mind for some reason. The professor had directed us to find a cause or activity to feel deeply about. And so, I tried a few things, like long-distance running, exploring new kinds of music, and even political projects and activities that benefited the poor.
It was not too long after this that I proposed to my girlfriend. Marriage and my passion for her and our life together became my focus. The other pursuits were pushed into the back seat, with some of them falling out of favor for good. Left to themselves, passions often don’t last long – definitely not forever. But I have often revisited some of those early ponderings and wondered whether it is true that it doesn’t matter what I am passionate about, or what I allow my deepest affections to go after. Passion is the goal, regardless what it’s focused on. But is EVERYTHING worth passionately committing to as long as I feel it deeply? Does simply choosing to give my affection to something automatically make it worthy of a passionate pursuit?
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For as far back as I can remember, I have known the words to the old hymn: Amazing Grace. But the truly amazing thing is how long it has taken me to understand them. The lyrics were written by John Newton, an Anglican minister, on New Year’s Day 1773. They were part of a sermon he gave describing his conversion to Christ. He captained a slave ship in his younger years and almost died in a storm crossing the Atlantic in 1748. His tribute to the grace of God saving a wretch like himself was set to music a few years later. One of the most enduring hymns of all time then came into being.
In my mind, it was most meaningful for those “wretches” that had done unspeakably terrible things. I didn’t see myself as that bad.
Because of my self-righteous attitude, it was difficult for me to appreciate “grace.” To be honest, the word always felt a bit flimsy and fluffy. It seemed to be for those who couldn’t make mature decisions, who needed to have their hands held to get through the day. It didn’t fit my subconscious picture of personal strength and manliness (it was a girl’s name after all). And while I didn’t outright reject the idea, I did push it to the back of mind, never really examining it.
It’s Scandalous
I read a book as an adult called What’s So Amazing About Grace?. It shook me. In it, Philip Yancey unpacked the word “grace,” making a case that it is a very pleasant and, at the same time, a shocking and offensive concept. He pointed out that, like me, most people view grace as a nice soft religious word . . . until it is seriously proposed.
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The new year is upon us, and that means resolutions! Many of us are making promises to initiate changes in our lives. I have heard mixed reviews regarding the effectiveness of such commitments. Most of us give up on the pledges made on January 1st before the month is even over. Vows to lose weight, get in shape, spend more time with family, or stay off social media start out strong but lose steam as old habits reassert themselves. But there are pathways to success. Keep at it!
The past is often our enemy when it comes to making healthy changes for the future. Harmful habits can have deep roots. Patterns of failures and discouragement push their way to the forefront and work to derail our good intentions to change. How realistic is it to simply forget the past and move into a brighter tomorrow? If we are trying to do it with pure will power, the chances for success are not particularly good.
One of the most powerful phantoms of the past is guilt.
The weight of yesterday’s mistakes and sins does not just drop off our shoulders because we decide we want it to. It often is a burden that grows heavier. Or like stepping into quicksand, it sucks us lower and lower. It is a real force that keeps many from experiencing freedom and making positive changes for the future.
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Christmas music! I love pretty much all of it. Both the sacred and secular songs stir something and pull me in. I find beauty (read last week’s post) in almost every melody. And while it is fun to “deck the halls,” “jingle bells,” and “walk in a winter wonderland,” the carols that offer a sacred hush and highlight the birth of a savior are by far the highlight and, for Jesus followers, cannot be replaced. But what am I declaring when I sing about a little town called Bethlehem, joy coming into the world, shepherds watching their sheep at night, listening to singing angels, and a night that is silent?
I must admit, for the longest time Christmas music merely created a pleasant atmosphere for me — a feel-good sound filling the house. I didn’t really comprehend the heart or significance of what was being proclaimed by choirs or carolers. I used to think of the sacred advent hymns as inviting us to come and look at baby Jesus as we would admire any cute, adorable newborn. It was somehow sweet that He was laid in a feeding trough and wrapped in swaddling cloths — though I never asked what swaddling meant until I was instructed to swaddle my grand-babies. For most of my early years, the songs were just a build up to the 25th of December when I would get presents.
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As far back as I can remember, I looked forward to and savored each Christmas season. I mainly anticipated receiving presents as a child. And then it became associated with a break from schoolwork. For my adult years, I attribute much of the expectancy to watching my children and now my grandchildren gear up in the excitement. But also, as an adult I have explored what else it is that stirs my heart so deeply during this season. The presents are nice, but most of the time I struggle to think of any material gift I truly desire. The exhilaration of being out of school has dissipated as classwork is now far behind me. The anticipation, however, is still there. What makes it so enchanting?
Along with wondering what instills the Christmas season with such attraction, there is the more general question of what draws me to anything. What is stirred in my heart when I find myself choosing to give attention and time to just sitting and absorbing an intangible holiday “spirit” in the air? It has been a mystery. Yet this quality of attraction is becoming more and more clear.
I am attracted to the BEAUTY of it all!
That which I perceive to be beautiful will always get my attention. I cannot help but want to gaze upon or be close to that which stirs my heart. So, it is beauty that lures me to lights, manger scenes, decorated trees, and gift giving.
But why?
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Many years ago I read a slim little book by a Chinese pastor known as Watchman Nee. It was a study of the Biblical book of Ephesians. It is called Sit, Walk, Stand, and I have referred to it many times since.
SIT
He points out that the first three chapters of Ephesians focus on what God has done for us through Jesus. We are told that God predestined us to be adopted by Himself through Jesus (Ephesians 1:5). That He’s given us the Holy Spirit as a guarantee of our future inheritance until we acquire possession of it (Ephesians 1:13-14). That we have been saved by grace through faith (Ephesians 2:8). That we are no longer strangers and aliens but members of God’s household (Ephesians 2:19). That Christ is ready to dwell in our hearts (Ephesians 3:17). And these are a mere fraction of what all is stated to be ours in the first three sections.
Pastor Nee calls these the SITTING chapters. All that God has done for us is laid out, and we simply have to learn to rest or SIT in what has been set into motion. There are really no commands or directions given to obey here. We are called to believe and trust — which of course is not always easy.
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I have reposted this multiple times over the years before Thanksgiving. This year, I thought I would put it out there again after the holiday to remind us that gratitude is meant to be an everyday lifestyle.
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I am afflicted with a condition that I understand many men have. I often cannot see what is right in front of my face. The can of soup I’m looking for in the pantry mysteriously disappears when I go to retrieve it. I am perplexed and frustrated. And then my wife steps in and produces it out of thin air. How is that possible? To my embarrassment, it isn’t a mere coincidence.
Somehow, she has the ability to see what is really there. I look, and if it is not where I imagined it should be, or if it is a different color or shape than I assumed, or not moving, I am afflicted with a curious blindness. Items in plain sight are cloaked. I experience this while searching for socks, medicine, keys, and books more often than I care to admit.
But I have come to see that it also is a condition that affects my soul.
Blind to What I Have
I am naturally programmed to focus my attention on what I can’t see—that is, what is not immediately in my grasp. My mind is alert to comparing my status, career, possessions, education, relationships, personal satisfaction, experiences to those around me. Often, however, I come out on the short end. What I have does not seem enough and I become agitated, restless, pessimistic. This blinds me. I don’t see what I do have. And sometimes I don’t even need to go as far as comparing myself to anyone; I am stuck seeing everything in my life and all around me that is wrong.
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There are a lot of people I don’t like. In fact, there are some, if I had it my way, I would avoid completely. They either believe differently than I do and make me feel uncomfortable; they are interested in things I cannot relate to; or they have rude habits that irritate and make me look for an exit. Many people in this world make “loving my neighbor” a real chore, if not completely impossible.
To be honest, I don’t feel any love for most the people I see walking the streets. I particularly feel a void of affection for other drivers on the road (after all, they’re mostly idiots, right?). Politicians and public personas tend to push me into a judgmental attitude. The personalities projected on social media often strike me as fake. And the arguments I observe breaking out on the internet typically feel like nothing more than image polishing and virtue signaling. As I grow older and follow the twisted patterns of people’s behavior, I fear I am turning into a cynical judge of all things that are human (baa humbug)!
It’s a Command!
And yet, Jesus tells me that the Second-Greatest Commandment for His followers is to love my neighbor as I love myself (Matthew 22:39). When someone asked Him, “Who is my neighbor?” obviously looking for a loophole (which is what I would have done), Jesus told the story we know as the Good Samaritan. The conclusion was that the Samaritan — despised and avoided by all Jews at the time — was The Neighbor. The one nobody liked and viewed as coming from the problem people of their land was the example given of who Jesus followers are to love (Luke 10:25-37).
Ouch!
This feels offensive and doesn’t fit my sentiments of love. So, what am I going to do if I seriously want to follow Jesus? First I will clarify what I believe Jesus meant by love. What is it, and what it is not?
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I have been an on and off fan of Star Trek (and its various versions) over the years. As a kid, the alien enemies scared me: Klingons with their cold, hard, and aggressive logic; the emotional paranoia of the Romulans; and the greed and cowardice of the Ferengi. All of them, I learned to laugh at as I grew older. But the one group that still sends a chill through me is the Borg. They are the race of beings that has incorporated technological enhancements with the physical body, turning themselves into a single living machine controlled with a common consciousness in the Queen Borg. They can live forever, and no one can really stop them.
Now we are seeing science fiction and present-day reality beginning to entwine. The 1999 film The Matrix presented what felt like the very unrealistic idea that machines could eventually dominate and enslave humans. Before that was The Terminator, again the machines taking on their own life and will. Beyond thrilling entertainment, such story telling gets us talking about questions I never heard my grandparents’ generation asking. What does it mean to be human? At what point does technology begin to dehumanize us? And even deeper, just because we can, does it mean we should? Where are the boundaries? And, should there be any limits put on human ambition to take control of our own existence?
Right now, ChatGPT (artificial intelligence) and all its technological cousins seem to be enhancing our lives. But the questions persist: where is it all taking us? Is it leading us to a better place? Are limits always bad? And where is God in all our human advancements?
A lot of questions!
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