I grew up on a ranch. We raised sheep mostly, but had a dozen or so cows as well. I was involved in 4-H, particularly in the sheep exhibitions, but one year my parents and I decided to try our hand at a heifer. So, we bought one from a neighbor, and drove her the mile or so home and placed her in a pen we had built to contain her. The fence was high, she had plenty of food and water, and shelter was good.
She promptly jumped the fence and headed home- to her home. We caught her, placed her back in the pen, but quickly realized adjustments had to be made to keep her contained. But she was still too crazy to get in the pen with her and try to tame her. Honestly, we didn't have a clue what to do with her, so my heifer showing career ended before it started.
I think back to that time in my early teen years and one thing is vivid: that cow was too wild to be contained, too strong to be tamed. You could see it in her eyes like a fire: "You don't know who you're dealing with." Eventually we released her to be with the other cows, and she went on to have lots of babies and live her life, her way.
I draw a lot of comparisons to that incident and how I often view God. I mean, I recognize the power of God, and even notice His wildness at times (seriously, watch a Texas thunderstorm sometime), but I often try to pen Him up into my idea of what God should be. Really, we all do it. We want Him to be more like us, to make sense when He talks and with what He does. We want his complexities and His justice to be only as deep and as understandable as human complexities and justice.
In essence, we want God to exist within us- that is to say, within the boundaries of our understanding. Anything outside of that is grounds for immediately discounting or distrusting God.
Man has always been this way. Ancient cultures handled it more with religion, going so far as to create new gods to explain the strange and scary things they saw. Even more sophisticated cultures like the Greeks and Romans went this way. They went out of their way to try to appease the gods, so they made statues to all of them, and even statues to gods they didn't yet know about just in case that god got mad at them and attacked. Really, though, it wasn't about protecting themselves from the gods as it was exercising control over them. At least, that's how Paul saw it.
On one of his trips, Paul came face to face with idolatry, aka man's pen for God. In an attempt to serve a god that made sense, they just made one up. Paul addressed this thinking like this:
“The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else. From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’ As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’
--Acts 17:24-28
To me, seeing God as not being dependent on us is tremendously freeing. These words remind me that it is God who has mastery over me, not the other way around. And then, the fact that He actually penned us in (he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands) in an effort to call us to Him. He has set out to tame us- but not like we think.
I think we believe God sets rules to keep us from fun. God has actually set rules up to make life better. He wants to tame us from the actions that destroy us, but He wants us to be adventurous and full of life in our pursuit of Him. In that, He has set no limits. That leads me to my favorite part of this passage: 'For in him we live and move and have our being.’ Paul quotes a pagan philosopher who spoke a truth he didn't fully understand. That truth is that we exist in God. Not in an Eastern Mysticism "We are all god" way, but in a "God made us to exist for Him, whether we acknowledge it or not" way. He enables us to do what we do, even refuse Him.
Because God is big enough for that.
And no matter how hard we try, with idolatry or watering Him down to fit what we are comfortable with, we will not pen Him. His eyes are filled with a fire, not unlike the heifer of my youth, that screams of passion and power, and warns us that we don't know who we are messing with.
Showing posts with label Passion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Passion. Show all posts
Friday, February 25, 2011
Monday, November 22, 2010
A Great Cloud of Witnesses
God has been really good to us lately.
Friday, we found out we had free tickets to the A&M Nebraska game. We scrambled to find someone to watch our kids so Kristin and I could go. Unfortunately, all of our normal potential baby-sitters were either going to the game themselves (31,005 students pulled tickets for the national record for most student tickets purchased), or were babysitting for someone else going to the game. Then Saturday morning, after giving up hope that we could go, Kristin's mom volunteered to drive in and watch the kids so we could. My mother-in-law is awesome.
Kristin and I rode to the game with her Uncle Fred and cousin Cheryl, so we also got great parking thanks to their being season ticket holders. Their seats were on the lower deck, and ours were on the second, so we split up to find some food then our seats.
And what seats they were. They were pretty much 50 yard line seats for potentially the biggest game of the week- certainly the biggest thus far this year for the Aggies. We were there early enough to see the march in by the Corps of Cadets, and catch the Senior night recognitions. As the promo reels and the pre-game videos began to roll, you could tell there was something special going on.
In one way, this was expected. It was a huge game, and Aggies have long been known to be super-fans. We'd already broken the student ticket record, and we soon discovered we set the record for largest crowd at Kyle Field. Statements by Nebraska's coach putting down the Aggie fans (The 12th Man) had riled up an already rowdy student section. And the Aggies were winning again, the defense was almost back to it's "Wrecking Crew" status of the decade prior, and the fans were expecting good things again for the first time in a number of years.
That's also why it was a surprise. I had only been to one game since I graduated, and it had lacked this intensity. It had been rather sedate and almost deflated. But this night it felt like the old passion that I knew from my years as a student was back, and it was wearing maroon and waving white towels.
In the midst of 90,000 plus people, yelling for their team to the point of losing their voice, I saw what passion is about. I saw it in the efforts of the young men on the field. I heard in the deafening cries of the 12th Man on defensive stands. I felt it my heart as I watched video of seasons gone by and heroes of those years. I am an Aggie, and I felt it that night. It went beyond a head knowledge that, yes I have an Aggie ring and a diploma, so I'm an Aggie. It was more than just me wearing a maroon Aggie jersey. It was more than yelling at the right times and singing the War Hymn and 'Sawing Varsity Horns Off" with the rest of the fans. It wasn't what I was doing or wearing.
It was who I was.
In the moments of tension and excitement, as the Aggies saw the Husker's final pass fall incomplete, and Ryan Tannehill took a knee to end the game- I found myself longing for more of this. Victory. Passion.
As a Christian, I learned a lot about passion Saturday night. If we were as passionate, as motivated, about Christ as we were about BTHO Nebraska- what could we accomplish? I was inspired by the 12th Man, because they- though they never set foot on the field- gave all that they could for a game that mattered.
The "game that matters" to us as followers of Christ demands our full commitment, our full passion. It demands that we wear our voices bear proclaiming Christ. It demands we adorn ourselves not with maroon and white, but with the acceptance of the blood of Christ- shed for us so that we may know Him. It demands that we stand for each other when play is close and our friends need all the support they can get to hold on just a little longer.
When the final time ran away from the clock, those white towels began to fly. Tossed upward like graduation caps, they floated a few rows down from their launching point. The celebration was not just for the team on the field, it was for all of us. We had all given of ourselves, yelled our support, stood our ground, and waved our towels. Those guys on the field gave their blood, sweat and tears, and they looked to us, their very own "great cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1) and welcomed us into their victory.
I want to be as passionate for your victory in Christ as I was for the Aggies victory on Kyle Field. I want to give my support to you, so that when your victory is won, you too will turn to me, and the rest of your "12th Man" and say, "This victory is all of ours!"
Passion is shared, and it it mutliplied in its sharing. May our passion for Christ be as contagious as a Yell from Kyle Field on Game Day.
Friday, we found out we had free tickets to the A&M Nebraska game. We scrambled to find someone to watch our kids so Kristin and I could go. Unfortunately, all of our normal potential baby-sitters were either going to the game themselves (31,005 students pulled tickets for the national record for most student tickets purchased), or were babysitting for someone else going to the game. Then Saturday morning, after giving up hope that we could go, Kristin's mom volunteered to drive in and watch the kids so we could. My mother-in-law is awesome.
Kristin and I rode to the game with her Uncle Fred and cousin Cheryl, so we also got great parking thanks to their being season ticket holders. Their seats were on the lower deck, and ours were on the second, so we split up to find some food then our seats.
And what seats they were. They were pretty much 50 yard line seats for potentially the biggest game of the week- certainly the biggest thus far this year for the Aggies. We were there early enough to see the march in by the Corps of Cadets, and catch the Senior night recognitions. As the promo reels and the pre-game videos began to roll, you could tell there was something special going on.
In one way, this was expected. It was a huge game, and Aggies have long been known to be super-fans. We'd already broken the student ticket record, and we soon discovered we set the record for largest crowd at Kyle Field. Statements by Nebraska's coach putting down the Aggie fans (The 12th Man) had riled up an already rowdy student section. And the Aggies were winning again, the defense was almost back to it's "Wrecking Crew" status of the decade prior, and the fans were expecting good things again for the first time in a number of years.
That's also why it was a surprise. I had only been to one game since I graduated, and it had lacked this intensity. It had been rather sedate and almost deflated. But this night it felt like the old passion that I knew from my years as a student was back, and it was wearing maroon and waving white towels.
In the midst of 90,000 plus people, yelling for their team to the point of losing their voice, I saw what passion is about. I saw it in the efforts of the young men on the field. I heard in the deafening cries of the 12th Man on defensive stands. I felt it my heart as I watched video of seasons gone by and heroes of those years. I am an Aggie, and I felt it that night. It went beyond a head knowledge that, yes I have an Aggie ring and a diploma, so I'm an Aggie. It was more than just me wearing a maroon Aggie jersey. It was more than yelling at the right times and singing the War Hymn and 'Sawing Varsity Horns Off" with the rest of the fans. It wasn't what I was doing or wearing.
It was who I was.
In the moments of tension and excitement, as the Aggies saw the Husker's final pass fall incomplete, and Ryan Tannehill took a knee to end the game- I found myself longing for more of this. Victory. Passion.
As a Christian, I learned a lot about passion Saturday night. If we were as passionate, as motivated, about Christ as we were about BTHO Nebraska- what could we accomplish? I was inspired by the 12th Man, because they- though they never set foot on the field- gave all that they could for a game that mattered.
The "game that matters" to us as followers of Christ demands our full commitment, our full passion. It demands that we wear our voices bear proclaiming Christ. It demands we adorn ourselves not with maroon and white, but with the acceptance of the blood of Christ- shed for us so that we may know Him. It demands that we stand for each other when play is close and our friends need all the support they can get to hold on just a little longer.
When the final time ran away from the clock, those white towels began to fly. Tossed upward like graduation caps, they floated a few rows down from their launching point. The celebration was not just for the team on the field, it was for all of us. We had all given of ourselves, yelled our support, stood our ground, and waved our towels. Those guys on the field gave their blood, sweat and tears, and they looked to us, their very own "great cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1) and welcomed us into their victory.
I want to be as passionate for your victory in Christ as I was for the Aggies victory on Kyle Field. I want to give my support to you, so that when your victory is won, you too will turn to me, and the rest of your "12th Man" and say, "This victory is all of ours!"
Passion is shared, and it it mutliplied in its sharing. May our passion for Christ be as contagious as a Yell from Kyle Field on Game Day.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
The Dichotomy of Glory
You know how you pray for God to break you? I never knew just how much that meant your emotions and heart could be be literally torn in two different directions. This week, I have been experiencing this strange division of thought, both first hand and in the lives of friends. As I was praying about the whirlwind I found myself in, this idea of the Dichotomy of Glory rose up.
How glory can be found in two opposite things, at the same time.
How God can be lifted up by polarized events.
Life and Death
Yesterday, I went to the hospital to visit my friends (and co-Gate leaders) Wally and Crissy. They had just become proud parents of a sleepy (for the moment) baby boy named Liam. I walked into a room filled with family and friends of the new Mom and Dad, and gazed into their smiling, beaming faces as I shook hands and introduced myself. Then, in the faces of Wally and Crissy, I saw another dichotomy- a strange but familiar mixture of excitement and exhaustion. Every hospital room I've ever entered with the intent of congratulating new parents has held the same expression my friends held. After a long sleepless and uncomfortable night, a new joy was here. As much as they said they were exhausted and couldn't wait to sleep, I knew they would just as soon spend the next week gazing at this little miracle they could call their own.
I walked into my home, just a few minutes later, and saw Kristin sitting at the computer, tears in her eyes. Before I could tell here about what I had just seen, she informed me that another couple that we are friends with, Jay and Amanda, had just lost their baby. Jay and Amanda are also friends with Wally and Crissy, so the fact that two groups of people we know would experience the opposite ends of a similar event on the same day left us questioning: How could this be?
On one hand, God has been glorified by the miracle of birth and thankfulness of one family, but He has also been glorified by the tragedy of another. Over the last day, Amanda and Jay have been an amazing example of faith and trust in a sometimes incomprehensible God. They have turned to Him, they have trusted in Him. They have glorified Him.
No, it doesn't make sense. I rejoice with Wally and Crissy. But I grieve with Jay and Amanda. With both, we must trust God. I think another of our friends, Michelle, said it best: "Celebrating today with a dear friend for the birth of her son. Mourning today with a dear friend for the loss of her son. Two friends. Same God. I have no words."
It is at times like this where we don't know what to say. Often, I simply want to say, "I have nothing to offer but my prayers and my God. May they be sufficient."
Duty and Passion
I have a real job. It's purpose is to pay the bills to enable us to lead our church. It is not my passion, nor even an interest of mine. It is a gift of God and came just when we needed it. Over the last three years, I have built relationships, and I have done my duty. Occasionally I've done a real good job. I don't wake up excited to go to work, but I try to do the best I can at it. When I succeed at this and at sharing my life and love for Christ with my co-workers, God is glorified.
For the past month or so, I have been meeting with some guys. Four different guys, four different types of conversations, four very uplifting times for me. Because I see God working in their lives, I am being challenged in my faith. My vision for serving Christ through the Gate has awakened. My passion for His calling on my life has burned brighter, and more intense than it has since we first set out to begin this journey three years ago. I have desire to write, and want to do it more and more. I want to publish a book I've written. I want to meet more people. I want to work hard at making the Gate an entity that points to God by reaching those farthest from Him. My passion is awakened, this glorifies God.
I am now torn between glorifying God by doing a good job at my "real job" and glorifying God by pursuing the passion He sent me here for. The problem is that neither is happening the best they can because I am divided. Can I do both? I've been good at doing one real well to the detriment of the other, or doing both in a mediocre way. That doesn't glorify God.
Safety or Jump
So here I am. Torn. God can be glorified by life or death. God can be glorified by duty or passion. For me, the question is, can I glorify God by staying in the safe place, with my job, or do I have to take a leap of faith? I know of a lot of people who can balance the bi-vocational life, but can I?
The last time I took a leap of faith, a real jump, was when we moved to College Station to start the Gate. We left the safety of an established ministry for the uncertainty of a brand new bar church for college students. It has been the toughest thing I have ever done, but in many ways, through numerous relationships, I believe it may have brought more glory to God than anything else I have ever done.
I think about the glory I saw on display yesterday. The glory of a newborn child and the glory of a grieving family enveloped in the arms of Christ. I shared with them their glory: smiles for the new baby and tears for the one lost.
As C. S. Lewis said, "The load, or weight, or burden, of my neighbour's glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken." God has been breaking me. He has been humbling me, showing me that I need to rely on Him. Does that mean I leave a job for the uncertainty of scrounging together funding for the church? I don't know. I share my dichotomy of glory with you so that you have the opportunity to carry the weight of my glory- from the good or the bad- just as I have had the blessing of bearing the weight of glory of Wally and Crissy and Jay and Amanda.
It has made me see Christ more clearly this late Fall day. His glory is what matters, let us seek it together whether we find in life or death, duty or passion.
How glory can be found in two opposite things, at the same time.
How God can be lifted up by polarized events.
Life and Death
Yesterday, I went to the hospital to visit my friends (and co-Gate leaders) Wally and Crissy. They had just become proud parents of a sleepy (for the moment) baby boy named Liam. I walked into a room filled with family and friends of the new Mom and Dad, and gazed into their smiling, beaming faces as I shook hands and introduced myself. Then, in the faces of Wally and Crissy, I saw another dichotomy- a strange but familiar mixture of excitement and exhaustion. Every hospital room I've ever entered with the intent of congratulating new parents has held the same expression my friends held. After a long sleepless and uncomfortable night, a new joy was here. As much as they said they were exhausted and couldn't wait to sleep, I knew they would just as soon spend the next week gazing at this little miracle they could call their own.
I walked into my home, just a few minutes later, and saw Kristin sitting at the computer, tears in her eyes. Before I could tell here about what I had just seen, she informed me that another couple that we are friends with, Jay and Amanda, had just lost their baby. Jay and Amanda are also friends with Wally and Crissy, so the fact that two groups of people we know would experience the opposite ends of a similar event on the same day left us questioning: How could this be?
On one hand, God has been glorified by the miracle of birth and thankfulness of one family, but He has also been glorified by the tragedy of another. Over the last day, Amanda and Jay have been an amazing example of faith and trust in a sometimes incomprehensible God. They have turned to Him, they have trusted in Him. They have glorified Him.
No, it doesn't make sense. I rejoice with Wally and Crissy. But I grieve with Jay and Amanda. With both, we must trust God. I think another of our friends, Michelle, said it best: "Celebrating today with a dear friend for the birth of her son. Mourning today with a dear friend for the loss of her son. Two friends. Same God. I have no words."
It is at times like this where we don't know what to say. Often, I simply want to say, "I have nothing to offer but my prayers and my God. May they be sufficient."
Duty and Passion
I have a real job. It's purpose is to pay the bills to enable us to lead our church. It is not my passion, nor even an interest of mine. It is a gift of God and came just when we needed it. Over the last three years, I have built relationships, and I have done my duty. Occasionally I've done a real good job. I don't wake up excited to go to work, but I try to do the best I can at it. When I succeed at this and at sharing my life and love for Christ with my co-workers, God is glorified.
For the past month or so, I have been meeting with some guys. Four different guys, four different types of conversations, four very uplifting times for me. Because I see God working in their lives, I am being challenged in my faith. My vision for serving Christ through the Gate has awakened. My passion for His calling on my life has burned brighter, and more intense than it has since we first set out to begin this journey three years ago. I have desire to write, and want to do it more and more. I want to publish a book I've written. I want to meet more people. I want to work hard at making the Gate an entity that points to God by reaching those farthest from Him. My passion is awakened, this glorifies God.
I am now torn between glorifying God by doing a good job at my "real job" and glorifying God by pursuing the passion He sent me here for. The problem is that neither is happening the best they can because I am divided. Can I do both? I've been good at doing one real well to the detriment of the other, or doing both in a mediocre way. That doesn't glorify God.
Safety or Jump
So here I am. Torn. God can be glorified by life or death. God can be glorified by duty or passion. For me, the question is, can I glorify God by staying in the safe place, with my job, or do I have to take a leap of faith? I know of a lot of people who can balance the bi-vocational life, but can I?
The last time I took a leap of faith, a real jump, was when we moved to College Station to start the Gate. We left the safety of an established ministry for the uncertainty of a brand new bar church for college students. It has been the toughest thing I have ever done, but in many ways, through numerous relationships, I believe it may have brought more glory to God than anything else I have ever done.
I think about the glory I saw on display yesterday. The glory of a newborn child and the glory of a grieving family enveloped in the arms of Christ. I shared with them their glory: smiles for the new baby and tears for the one lost.
As C. S. Lewis said, "The load, or weight, or burden, of my neighbour's glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken." God has been breaking me. He has been humbling me, showing me that I need to rely on Him. Does that mean I leave a job for the uncertainty of scrounging together funding for the church? I don't know. I share my dichotomy of glory with you so that you have the opportunity to carry the weight of my glory- from the good or the bad- just as I have had the blessing of bearing the weight of glory of Wally and Crissy and Jay and Amanda.
It has made me see Christ more clearly this late Fall day. His glory is what matters, let us seek it together whether we find in life or death, duty or passion.
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