grace

The Slovenian Flute Maker

Uncategorized, , , , , Leave a comment

One of the books I’m reading is called Heroes and Jerks, written by Ed Daly. This massive doorstop of a book breaks down human history into segments and then, in each segment, lists the 10 Best and 10 Worst people of the time. Now, there might be a bunch I wouldn’t ordinarily like about such lists, but it’s educational and hilarious, so what I wouldn’t ordinarily like doesn’t matter in this instance.

I tell you about this book because I want to tell you about a Slovenian flute maker and me and times like these, in particular.

First, the Slovenian flute maker. He’s #5 in the best of the Early Ancient History category (spanning two million B.C.-501 B.C.). And he’s the #9 worst. In 43,000 B.C., he hollowed out a cave bear’s femur and fashioned the first musical instrument, so if you’ve ever loved a song, danced, or cry when Gisy sings on Sunday morning, you have this guy to thank. AND if you’ve ever heard a Britney Spears song (or that Extreme song, “More Than Words”) and hated it, you also have this guy to thank.

I’ll be 45 years old in almost 2 weeks and I’m only just beginning to embrace the fact that the best thing about me is also the worst thing about me. It’s the thing that makes you (and my wife and my kids and anybody else) love me and it is the very thing that drives you crazy and want to never see me again. Just for knowing, it drives me crazy, too. I used to want nothing more than to change it, to leave that part of me well behind. I don’t anymore.

2020 is hard. Yesterday my phone rang and on the other end was a friend I haven’t spoken to in quite some time. She was in distress over the tragic news in our town (and her job and the local schools and COVID and everything else that is making us all feel like the world is upside down and tearing at the seams). I am in distress over the same things, as well, so we mostly just talked about how hard it is to get out of bed some days. How it can feel like it’s all for nothing. And somehow in the middle of ALL of the emotions we were feeling, there were sprinkles of laughter and hope and genuine care.

Then there’s this boy who came into the weight room where I work yesterday. Usually, the early teen-aged boys are overcome by insecurity and inadequacy and are absolutely insufferable (!!!!!), but this boy came in quietly and asked me what to do. He is apparently often in trouble. But he is also the boy who brought a bag of pretzels to the school office to share with my wife last year.

I don’t really feel that much like writing today. But times like these are discouraging and depressing. But just like the Slovenian flute maker (and everything else), they are not simply 1 thing. They are full of tears, but they are full of beautiful old friends, too.

Last night I had a rehearsal for a wedding that I’ll officiate Saturday and as I looked at these kids, I knew what was coming for them, for their marriage: the fights, the fear, the illnesses, the funerals, the all night conversations, the shouting, the questions, the anger, the pain, suffering, heart aches. I also know what else is coming: the joy, the celebration, the wins, the healing, the reconciliation, the passion, the dinners, the cozy movies on the couch, the births, the answers, the kisses, hugs, the hands to hold. It’s all wrapped up in a swirly mixture of a full love and life. It hurts and it is THE GREATEST. It’s always more than 1 thing, (everything is always more than 1 thing), if we only can have the imagination and faith and courage to just keep going.

Order

Uncategorized, , , , Leave a comment

“May we show our thankfulness through kindness and appreciate our blessings through generosity.” – Cyn Morgan in her excellent book Misericorde

Why wouldn’t I? This was the question in the last post (called Ham) about this response of ours. Of course we don’t have to, but why wouldn’t we? If you love these posts just as they are, no matter what I write about or how much time, effort and care I expend (like my mom does), would I stop expending time, effort and care? I hope not. I hope I would work harder to show my thankfulness to you (and my mom).

This makes complete sense, right? But when it comes to “spirituality,” I suddenly begin to wrinkle my nose and contort myself into all sorts of positions, feigning confusion and/or dreaming airtight arguments detailing why not.

The last time I wrote about this, we explored the imaginary conflict between the letter written by James and the concept of grace, but which in reality is no conflict at all. If my desire isn’t to display my gratitude, to say thanks, am I really that grateful? Probably not. The thing is that our modern perspective of shifting truths has created a society of (wink, wink) tolerance, and on the one hand that is sort of good, but the other hand has suffered mightily. The unintended consequence of our neglect of Truth (which is really what the your truth, my truth fallacy is) is a neglect of Jesus, a neglect of the Gospel.

The order of the Bible (and when I say the Bible, I mean the individual books & letters as well as the overarching narrative of the collected library) is:

1. Our Condition. 2. What God Has Done. 3. Response.

So, if #1 (the problem) is ignored or minimized, than #2 (the solution) is ignored or minimized. If I’m not in trouble, why do I need rescue? If I’m not falling, what good is being caught? They’re just words on the page that we read on Sunday mornings that have virtually no importance in our actual daily lives. It becomes theology, an intellectual exercise (hence the arguments and pretense), instead of practice.

And no one is thankful for theology, in itself, and it’s thankfulness that drives #3. This is why we ask, “Do I have to?” It’s a meaningless checklist, and not an authentic response to a gift. The gift just isn’t that big of a deal.

The Bible is ordered the way it is on purpose. If we lose the order, we lose the magnitude of the gift. The characters in Misericorde were rescued in a very obvious, tangible manner. Their lives were spared while the rest were not. The characters of the Bible were rescued in a very obvious, tangible manner, too. Their lives were spared while others were not. It’s interesting, we can easily forget that we are characters in the Scriptures. We are rescued. The lives that are spared are ours.

Unless we truly understand 1, we will never understand the overwhelming grace of 2, or the Gospel, or Jesus. (And He is the absolute BEST part!!!)

Next time, we’ll talk about the prosperity gospel that is in vogue and how it is the antithesis of this Divine order.

Ham

Uncategorized, , , One comment

I have a really good friend who is the author of, as I write this, 5 novels I just looove. Honestly, I feel like a pretty big deal, too, that I know her and we are friends. She wrote a trilogy and is now 2 books into a quadrilogy called The Mercy Series. In the first book, Misericorde, through the words of a character, she detailed an extraordinary ethos for life: “May we show our thankfulness through kindness and appreciate our blessings through generosity.”

I immediately stopped reading and wrote it down in the notebook I always carry with me, and I’ll tell you why. 

Following Jesus at some point leads you to a wrestling with the idea of “faith +.” Faith + something, anything that I can do to prove my worth, to earn this gift of unbelievable love. We might not explicitly acknowledge this, but it comes out in much of what we do (and how we do it). 

Nothing is free, right?

The Grace of God IS, we are taught, so we hold on to that, but then James writes (in chapter 2) “In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. (v. 17)…faith without deeds is useless? (v. 20b)…You see that a person is considered righteous by what they do and not by faith alone. (v. 24)…As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead. (v. 26)” Now what? Is it my faith or my deeds? And this wrestling leaves us at the same point: Do I have to?

The short answer is “No, I don’t.” The longer answer is “…but why wouldn’t I want to?”

The Angel married me, for some reason she loves me that much, so I guess I don’t ‘have to’ behave the way I did when we were dating, don’t have to prove myself, don’t have to wash the dishes and take the trash out and buy her Snickers ice cream bars and slippers, but why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t I want to express my love for her in all sorts of ways? Would I ask if I had to?

I think James’ question to me would be, “YES, she loves you NO MATTER WHAT, but if you love her, how is it possible that that love wouldn’t come out of you??” 

We love each other and the things we do are a response to that love. (That word, “response,” seems to have much more to unpack and may become the basis for a million part series here, but we’re talking about my friend’s book right now and I said I’d tell you why I wrote it down.) I love her so I’m making ham for dinner tonight and I absolutely hate ham but I make it because she likes it. That’s my response. My friend (whose name is Cyn Morgan and you can find her books on Amazon) writes about characters who are asking these same questions. That’s why her books are so great. They are loved and have been given so extravagantly, right then, there, as they are. Now what? Their answer is kindness and generosity. I wrote it down because, whether it’s in a novel or in space or in Cleona, it’s a great answer and an even better lifestyle.