Hear me, O Lord,
And forget not your promises.
In the morning, my soul churns like the waves of the sea
And my heart is burdened in the evening.
Remember, O Lord,
The lot of your servant, that I might praise your name,
And proclaim your faithfulness to the ends of the earth.
Your goodness causes me to rise
And your word sustains my heart.
It is in you I place my hope and salvation,
For who is there like you?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Addendums To My Cynicism
I'm trying really hard, for the sake of wide-eyed and innocent freshmen, to not come off as a cynical and condescending senior. I'm trying to remember what I felt like as a bubbly and energetic social ball of naitivite. I'm trying not to flout normal and polite social conventions just because I have little desire to spread myself thin in relationships. I'm trying to balance my words, because I have not arrived at this point without going through the process that many of them will eventually go through.
And that's the difficulty, isn't it? We forget that it was a journey, and that the things we see and learn have taken time, experience, and most of all, grace. Our self-righteousness, our haughtiness and distance forgets the process it took to get us here. And even then, where is "here," except another point in our lives where we will one day look back upon and say, "Man, I can't believe I was ever there."
And that's the difficulty, isn't it? We forget that it was a journey, and that the things we see and learn have taken time, experience, and most of all, grace. Our self-righteousness, our haughtiness and distance forgets the process it took to get us here. And even then, where is "here," except another point in our lives where we will one day look back upon and say, "Man, I can't believe I was ever there."
Friday, January 25, 2008
Even The Fire is Fake
A friend and I were having a conversation in front of a fireplace in our school cafeteria. We were talking about the frustrations of being back at homogeneous Wheaton. We were talking about how Wheaton, as the epitome of white American Evangelical culture, values perfection so much that those who struggle, those who do not meet this disturbing subculture's standards of attractiveness, success, or spirituality often feel alienated, condemned, and silenced.
I watched the fire "burn" behind the screen. There was no smell of birch or oak to cling to our shirts. There were no crackles or sparks, and the "wood" has remained in the same artificial state since the fireplace was installed. There was nothing to stoke and nothing to build. The three neat little gas flames remained constant and perfect, reminding me that it was pleasing at first glance, but hardly as mesmerizing as a campfire or even one of the fires up at Honey Rock.
"Be ye perfect as I am perfect," commands the Lord. Yes, but it is the constant struggle that is the reality of life, not the perfection acquired post-eschaton. Thus the ash, the sparks, the smoke, all that is "imperfect" and "dangerous" is silently condemned and transformed into this fake fireplace, ridding it of its richness, idiosyncrasies, smells, and thus, beauty.
It is the struggle, with the presence of Christ, that is beautiful. It is the broken being redeemed and transformed into the new that is attractive, not the artificial facades we put on to impress those other "perfect" Christians who surround us (as if there was such a thing).
This institution is like the fireplace in our cafeteria. Temporarily pleasing to the eye, safe, and not without its warmth. But a real fire... the sometimes intense heat, the glowing embers of burning logs, the crackling of wood, the aroma of a true offering, now that's a beautiful fire.
I watched the fire "burn" behind the screen. There was no smell of birch or oak to cling to our shirts. There were no crackles or sparks, and the "wood" has remained in the same artificial state since the fireplace was installed. There was nothing to stoke and nothing to build. The three neat little gas flames remained constant and perfect, reminding me that it was pleasing at first glance, but hardly as mesmerizing as a campfire or even one of the fires up at Honey Rock.
"Be ye perfect as I am perfect," commands the Lord. Yes, but it is the constant struggle that is the reality of life, not the perfection acquired post-eschaton. Thus the ash, the sparks, the smoke, all that is "imperfect" and "dangerous" is silently condemned and transformed into this fake fireplace, ridding it of its richness, idiosyncrasies, smells, and thus, beauty.
It is the struggle, with the presence of Christ, that is beautiful. It is the broken being redeemed and transformed into the new that is attractive, not the artificial facades we put on to impress those other "perfect" Christians who surround us (as if there was such a thing).
This institution is like the fireplace in our cafeteria. Temporarily pleasing to the eye, safe, and not without its warmth. But a real fire... the sometimes intense heat, the glowing embers of burning logs, the crackling of wood, the aroma of a true offering, now that's a beautiful fire.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Hiphop Concerts and Israeli Terrorism
I went to a Talib Kweli concert last night at the Chicago House of Blues with some friends. A hiphop concert is an interesting place to worship. I love the power of a bass that rumbles through my chest, and words that spit truth without hesitation. One of Talib's songs, "I Try," has Mary J. Blige singing the following:
"An upside down kingdom where life is just not fair
So many suffering cuz deep inside they're scared
Fear pumped into their veins to keep them from their destiny
Where would they be if you and I don't care?"
Recently, news headlines have been pointing to Israel's injustices towards the 1.5 million people living in Gaza. If ever there was a good way of creating more animosity and perpetuating the cycle of hate, Israel continues to do a wonderful job at it. It's response, once again, is disproportionate, ineffective, and being resisted even among members of their own government, not to mention receives harsh condemnation from the UN and Oxfam. How, in the name of all things holy, can Christians just proof text their way to supporting Israel?
In an attempt to save the Gospel, we have truncated it. In an attempt to focus on the root, we consistently ignore or conveniently forget the deep implications of living in the Kingdom, a Kingdom that is more than just "me and my relationship with God" and opposes the powerful and the proud but belongs to the poor and the oppressed. We have neutered the Gospel and sapped its ability to free prisoners when we support those who imprison. We have lost the prophetic voice of the Body when we blindly toe political lines and fail to see that Christ desires Life not just after death, but in the here and now. Our compartmentalization of the Gospel, our dualistic understanding of ourselves and our blindness towards everything that has shaped our priorities, values, spirituality has made us think that life will be all well if people would just pray an acceptance prayer. We miss the fact that it is so often the powers and authorities, the systems in which we blindly participate in and benefit from, that causes the suffering of His children.
It is far easier to tweek our theologies so that our "passions" conveniently eclipse the real difficulties of gray areas and places in our own lives.
Apathy is easy. But ignorance is not bliss. It is not impartial. Does it make our modernist selves uncomfortable to think that we might not have concrete answers to everything, so much so that we are not willing to entertain the questions?
I think back to the time I tried to post on the Facebook wall of a group called "Christians Standing with Israel," and had my post deleted despite the fact that it was civil and simply raised questions. Is this what Christians are made of? Foolish dogmatism and desire to run from the truth? Are we really that afraid of anything that challenges our narrow understanding of the world? (Here's the old post about it).
We are the Pharisees. We are the Sanhedrin. We are those who pound our Bibles and claim to hold the absolute truth, yet sit in the seats of judgment against the sinners and gentiles, not knowing that all the while, we spit in the face of Jesus.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God."
"An upside down kingdom where life is just not fair
So many suffering cuz deep inside they're scared
Fear pumped into their veins to keep them from their destiny
Where would they be if you and I don't care?"
Recently, news headlines have been pointing to Israel's injustices towards the 1.5 million people living in Gaza. If ever there was a good way of creating more animosity and perpetuating the cycle of hate, Israel continues to do a wonderful job at it. It's response, once again, is disproportionate, ineffective, and being resisted even among members of their own government, not to mention receives harsh condemnation from the UN and Oxfam. How, in the name of all things holy, can Christians just proof text their way to supporting Israel?
In an attempt to save the Gospel, we have truncated it. In an attempt to focus on the root, we consistently ignore or conveniently forget the deep implications of living in the Kingdom, a Kingdom that is more than just "me and my relationship with God" and opposes the powerful and the proud but belongs to the poor and the oppressed. We have neutered the Gospel and sapped its ability to free prisoners when we support those who imprison. We have lost the prophetic voice of the Body when we blindly toe political lines and fail to see that Christ desires Life not just after death, but in the here and now. Our compartmentalization of the Gospel, our dualistic understanding of ourselves and our blindness towards everything that has shaped our priorities, values, spirituality has made us think that life will be all well if people would just pray an acceptance prayer. We miss the fact that it is so often the powers and authorities, the systems in which we blindly participate in and benefit from, that causes the suffering of His children.
It is far easier to tweek our theologies so that our "passions" conveniently eclipse the real difficulties of gray areas and places in our own lives.
Apathy is easy. But ignorance is not bliss. It is not impartial. Does it make our modernist selves uncomfortable to think that we might not have concrete answers to everything, so much so that we are not willing to entertain the questions?
I think back to the time I tried to post on the Facebook wall of a group called "Christians Standing with Israel," and had my post deleted despite the fact that it was civil and simply raised questions. Is this what Christians are made of? Foolish dogmatism and desire to run from the truth? Are we really that afraid of anything that challenges our narrow understanding of the world? (Here's the old post about it).
We are the Pharisees. We are the Sanhedrin. We are those who pound our Bibles and claim to hold the absolute truth, yet sit in the seats of judgment against the sinners and gentiles, not knowing that all the while, we spit in the face of Jesus.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God."
Friday, January 18, 2008
1/18/08
It’s always about relinquishing. It’s always about opened hands and broken hearts, and admitting that God knows better, because that’s our only option to accept. Such an admission comes from a place of desperation and dependence. It is forced by cold shoulders of realities that we wished were only bad dreams at best, night-terrors at worst. But just because my state is a product of being forced into concession doesn’t make it wrong.
It’s always about relinquishing. It’s about making plans and thinking ideas… it’s about wanting things our way only to have God ask us to give it up. Not because He’s a bully (or so I would like to hope in His defense), but because supposedly, He has something different and better in store. And hope…. Hope is the chain, sometimes the only chain, that ties my motivation and sanity to this earth. If one day I lose hope in what is promised to me, if I lose hope that no matter what happens, there is a God who has assured me of a resurrection and vindication, that will be the day I cease seeing purpose in suffering and pain.
Relinquishing. Relinquishing the dreams that we hold to, the form manifested by our desire for completion and wholeness… it is not the hope for completion that is relinquished, but our conceptualization of it… the idol we have fashioned out of what was deemed, “Very good.” It’s always about relinquishing.
I walked slowly today, in the face of the wind and snow and decided to feel every cold prick sweeping across my exposed skin. Our God is a strange God, one who allows things to break before they are reconstructed, calls us to relinquish every part of our lives, especially the deepest parts, if we are to keep it. What a difficult teaching indeed.
How long, O Lord, do we need to have faith in an ideal before we taste its actualization? And even when we are given it, ironic that I still have to remember, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. May the name of the Lord be praised.”
It’s always about relinquishing. It’s about making plans and thinking ideas… it’s about wanting things our way only to have God ask us to give it up. Not because He’s a bully (or so I would like to hope in His defense), but because supposedly, He has something different and better in store. And hope…. Hope is the chain, sometimes the only chain, that ties my motivation and sanity to this earth. If one day I lose hope in what is promised to me, if I lose hope that no matter what happens, there is a God who has assured me of a resurrection and vindication, that will be the day I cease seeing purpose in suffering and pain.
Relinquishing. Relinquishing the dreams that we hold to, the form manifested by our desire for completion and wholeness… it is not the hope for completion that is relinquished, but our conceptualization of it… the idol we have fashioned out of what was deemed, “Very good.” It’s always about relinquishing.
I walked slowly today, in the face of the wind and snow and decided to feel every cold prick sweeping across my exposed skin. Our God is a strange God, one who allows things to break before they are reconstructed, calls us to relinquish every part of our lives, especially the deepest parts, if we are to keep it. What a difficult teaching indeed.
How long, O Lord, do we need to have faith in an ideal before we taste its actualization? And even when we are given it, ironic that I still have to remember, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. May the name of the Lord be praised.”
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Things You JUST DON'T FUCKING DO.
You don't burn down churches with children in them. You just don't.
It's getting ugly in Kenya. I don't know the politics behind it. I don't know Kibaki's story, or why people feel like they need to riot. I don't understand tribalism, and I can't comprehend what comes over someone to set a church on fire with children in it.
For 7 months, China blocked my access to worldnews.com. And now that I have it again, Bhutto's death has been trumpeted, Kenya is degenerating into tribal warfare, and China is starting to up its economic hegemony, not to mention the standard news of suicide bombers, nuclear issues, etc.
Yea, happy new year to everyone. Drink up... this year's gonna be great for everyone around the world. Especially those 80 kids that burned to death because they were trying to run from machetes.
Kyrie eleison... Christe eleison.
'08
Behold, the old has gone and the new has come.
But I still feel the same.
08.
These are our numbers to claim,
Engraved at the ends of our names.
An end and a beginning are etched in our hearts.
The ebb of time cannot weather the carvings
Chiseled by the very hands of God.
Tonight the air is even,
Obstructing none of the galaxies that light our eyes
A glimpse of what He called "good"
Before our souls became dim.
'08 is but 120 minutes old.
Tonight, my prayers will shed their words and fade into
The stage for the first dreams of this year.
But I still feel the same.
08.
These are our numbers to claim,
Engraved at the ends of our names.
An end and a beginning are etched in our hearts.
The ebb of time cannot weather the carvings
Chiseled by the very hands of God.
Tonight the air is even,
Obstructing none of the galaxies that light our eyes
A glimpse of what He called "good"
Before our souls became dim.
'08 is but 120 minutes old.
Tonight, my prayers will shed their words and fade into
The stage for the first dreams of this year.
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