Embrace
The emptiness
Like a prodigal child returned
One for whom I have prepared a bed
And kept tidy a room.
Every fortnight
A familiar tap tap tap
At the gates.
I don’t bother to ask anymore
Where he’s been
Or if I should make some tea
To keep us company
To keep me warm.
He drapes his silence like a flag upon my door.
My, how you’ve grown.
And like a good father,
I do not ask when he will leave again.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Biting the Hand That Feeds Me
I listened to Obama's speech today. I don't think he's a god or agree with the media's messiah complex for him. I don't think he has all the right answers. I don't agree with the people who are 100% sold out on any politician, even Obama. No matter how much one pushes for change, the realities of running for government office means that one cannot alienate too many people, even if that means compromising one's own convictions. It's unfortunate, because that just means that vested interests still have their say, and the same old oppressive stories of "us" and "them" are still being appealed to as reasons for the candidate to be in office, even Obama. I didn't appreciate all of that rhetoric about how great America is, but I don't suppose you can be elected as the US President while being an unpopular prophet (unfortunately).
With that said, the truth is that I tenuously agree with those who say that by the nature of who Obama is, he is a catalyst for a sort of healing and reconciliation greatly needed within this country as well as with the rest of the world. I think the compromising that I personally am weary of is a necessity in a two party system dogged with pettiness and partisanship. (This is why I can't be president....... apart from the part that I wasn't born in this country.) I believe that despite my reservations on some of his policies, I find a large proportion of them far more palatable and in line with the ethics of the Kingdom than that of the line of the Republican party.
However, I am not an average American. I appreciate much of what I have been given here and do not want to downplay the privileges I have been afforded, but realize that it has often come at the expense of others. Nor does my appreciation and indebtedness force me to stay silent about the ways in which we have fallen short. I have a great amount of disrespect for our cultural superiority complex, both in words and in deeds. I think nationalism is folly, especially when it's used in the name of injustice and appealed to as an untouchable and unquestionable ethic. I have no issues with the idea that "chickens come home to roost," and have no illusions of God somehow being a de facto American patriot Himself, as we seem to make Him out to be. I do not hold the Constitution as holy and infallible, and see no point in pretending to walk humbly with our God when we fail to act justly or love mercy. But, in my ignorance and lack of life experience, there is much I do not know and am probably wrong about. What I do know though, is that the "American Dream," the one that says we are "free" to enslave ourselves in vapid anesthetics is neither dream nor freedom, but a nightmare that is lived in every city, ghetto, suburb, and rural corner of this country. It has spread like an infections disease, abetted by human falleness, to every city, ghetto, suburb and rural corner of the world. We are not satisfied in merely deluding ourselves, but have participated in a pandemic of death by the things we have done and left undone. The worst of it might be that our collusion with the political, social, economic (and by definition) spiritual powers and principalities have gone unnoticed by us, its very perpetrators, much to the satisfaction of the father of lies.
At the end of the day, I will probably vote for Obama despite my reservations. I'll vote, because I want someone to prove me wrong and show me that we are not as hopeless as my rhetoric makes us sound, that it is still possible to have a country rooted in compassion, justice, and reconciliation, where the poor, oppressed and alien are not completely trampled upon by the rich and powerful (eg, us). As much as I instigate, I would like America to stop doing so. My hope is not quite as teary-eyed as some of those I saw in the convention, but it's there, holding out for a possibility.
Today is a historically monumental day, no matter how you cut the pie. Cheers to America for being a place that has taught me how to think critically and a place that allows me to speak. Cheers to Obama for how far he's gotten, and cheers to McCain for being a good sport in this big game, at least for a day.
With that said, the truth is that I tenuously agree with those who say that by the nature of who Obama is, he is a catalyst for a sort of healing and reconciliation greatly needed within this country as well as with the rest of the world. I think the compromising that I personally am weary of is a necessity in a two party system dogged with pettiness and partisanship. (This is why I can't be president....... apart from the part that I wasn't born in this country.) I believe that despite my reservations on some of his policies, I find a large proportion of them far more palatable and in line with the ethics of the Kingdom than that of the line of the Republican party.
However, I am not an average American. I appreciate much of what I have been given here and do not want to downplay the privileges I have been afforded, but realize that it has often come at the expense of others. Nor does my appreciation and indebtedness force me to stay silent about the ways in which we have fallen short. I have a great amount of disrespect for our cultural superiority complex, both in words and in deeds. I think nationalism is folly, especially when it's used in the name of injustice and appealed to as an untouchable and unquestionable ethic. I have no issues with the idea that "chickens come home to roost," and have no illusions of God somehow being a de facto American patriot Himself, as we seem to make Him out to be. I do not hold the Constitution as holy and infallible, and see no point in pretending to walk humbly with our God when we fail to act justly or love mercy. But, in my ignorance and lack of life experience, there is much I do not know and am probably wrong about. What I do know though, is that the "American Dream," the one that says we are "free" to enslave ourselves in vapid anesthetics is neither dream nor freedom, but a nightmare that is lived in every city, ghetto, suburb, and rural corner of this country. It has spread like an infections disease, abetted by human falleness, to every city, ghetto, suburb and rural corner of the world. We are not satisfied in merely deluding ourselves, but have participated in a pandemic of death by the things we have done and left undone. The worst of it might be that our collusion with the political, social, economic (and by definition) spiritual powers and principalities have gone unnoticed by us, its very perpetrators, much to the satisfaction of the father of lies.
At the end of the day, I will probably vote for Obama despite my reservations. I'll vote, because I want someone to prove me wrong and show me that we are not as hopeless as my rhetoric makes us sound, that it is still possible to have a country rooted in compassion, justice, and reconciliation, where the poor, oppressed and alien are not completely trampled upon by the rich and powerful (eg, us). As much as I instigate, I would like America to stop doing so. My hope is not quite as teary-eyed as some of those I saw in the convention, but it's there, holding out for a possibility.
Today is a historically monumental day, no matter how you cut the pie. Cheers to America for being a place that has taught me how to think critically and a place that allows me to speak. Cheers to Obama for how far he's gotten, and cheers to McCain for being a good sport in this big game, at least for a day.
A White Line in the Sea Grass
I fixed my crab traps last night, and decided to watch the tide rise today. It sounds just about as interesting as watching the grass grow, eh?
If my prison is this house, with its beige walls, wireless bars that chain me to everywhere at once, and walk-in closets of man-made junk, then my salvation comes to me through my backyard bay with its deep unmistakable fragrance, in the vehicle of an aluminum boat and a 5 HP motor. However, if my imprisonment consists of this empire, with its oppressive meta-narratives that have us purchasing lies that keep us subservient and docile, then watching the tide rise is radical enough to be part of my salvation.
I’ve been reading a lot. (Not being employed allows for that.) Writers that insist on something more, something different then what is, or has been in place. Thoughtful and articulate Christians who look at Scriptures, peer through history, at church and our lives, and fearlessly accuse us not only of complacency, but also of idolatry and heresy. Thinkers who do not think for an ivory tower’s sake, but for the sake of our wholeness and a complete Gospel. Farmer-turned-poets who write manifestos in a mad attempt to reignite our imprisoned and emaciated imaginations. Ascetics who, in their unique experiments, have attempted to know the fullness and presence of God through the still and silent whispers of solitude. Broken healers who embrace, and in the process are simultaneously broken and healed by their communities.
A friend and I recently engaged in a discussion on “being,” the idea that our doing can only be authentic if it proceeds from our being. He talked about how there is far too much striving and faking, of chasing after and appeasing false gods, no less idolatrous than ones made of wood or stone. One writer claims that we have become turncoats towards God’s Kingdom. Whereas we should be living the lordship of Christ and the reality of His Kingdom, we have wholeheartedly embraced and whored ourselves to the Empire instead. If this is true, who are we to be? Another claims that our conclusions of the world going to hell in a hand-basket is full of old pagan philosophies and tenuous misreadings of proof-texts. If this is also true, what then are we to do? Old desert fathers gave it all up to hear a Voice in the silence, and ended up fighting against bad theology (See Anthony the Great and Athanasius vs Arius). People today give it up to fight a dehumanizing consumerist theology that allows for blind complicity in worldwide abuse and slavery, and end up hearing a Voice in the stillness of what’s left.
Now is the time to be. Silent, aware, and in awe. “Be still, and know that I am God.” As I sat in a creek and watched the tide rise, I realized that simply reading about all of creation moaning for redemption isn’t quite the same as partaking in it, since it is not only we who worship the Creator, but all of His good creation who sing as co-worshippers with us. It is as different as merely reading about babies, and finally participating in the joy and birth of your own child (not that I would know the latter...). The solitude gave volume to the silence, filled with sounds we have lost the ability to hear. For a moment, I believed that if people would stop fearing silence, stop inundating their senses with noise, stop their repression of questions and doubts, to live life as it comes, with a simplicity dictated by need and not excess, there would be a much smaller market for psychologists.
There is something intangible to being still. Perhaps stillness allows us to listen, to both the discord in our own hearts, and to God’s response and assurance that His love is greater than our fear. Perhaps the stillness allows us to see the fluidity and beauty in His created order, as well as how abusive and oppressive our dealings are to that peace. And if adage “time is money” is a creed of the empire Jesus came to overthrow, then reclining in a boat, watching the wind and listening to the tide rise for no particular reason on a Wednesday afternoon may just be the first step in seceding from and subverting the powers and principalities.
For once, I marveled at how everything fit together so well. It’s like getting pulled out of the Matrix and freed from its pervasive illusions, but instead of finding the real world to be full of gunmetal grey, tasteless slop and burlap rags, it was right here, all along, and beautiful, if only we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and One who will make things clear if we are willing.
I have so much to learn and live. (I believe. Help my unbelief.)
If my prison is this house, with its beige walls, wireless bars that chain me to everywhere at once, and walk-in closets of man-made junk, then my salvation comes to me through my backyard bay with its deep unmistakable fragrance, in the vehicle of an aluminum boat and a 5 HP motor. However, if my imprisonment consists of this empire, with its oppressive meta-narratives that have us purchasing lies that keep us subservient and docile, then watching the tide rise is radical enough to be part of my salvation.
I’ve been reading a lot. (Not being employed allows for that.) Writers that insist on something more, something different then what is, or has been in place. Thoughtful and articulate Christians who look at Scriptures, peer through history, at church and our lives, and fearlessly accuse us not only of complacency, but also of idolatry and heresy. Thinkers who do not think for an ivory tower’s sake, but for the sake of our wholeness and a complete Gospel. Farmer-turned-poets who write manifestos in a mad attempt to reignite our imprisoned and emaciated imaginations. Ascetics who, in their unique experiments, have attempted to know the fullness and presence of God through the still and silent whispers of solitude. Broken healers who embrace, and in the process are simultaneously broken and healed by their communities.
A friend and I recently engaged in a discussion on “being,” the idea that our doing can only be authentic if it proceeds from our being. He talked about how there is far too much striving and faking, of chasing after and appeasing false gods, no less idolatrous than ones made of wood or stone. One writer claims that we have become turncoats towards God’s Kingdom. Whereas we should be living the lordship of Christ and the reality of His Kingdom, we have wholeheartedly embraced and whored ourselves to the Empire instead. If this is true, who are we to be? Another claims that our conclusions of the world going to hell in a hand-basket is full of old pagan philosophies and tenuous misreadings of proof-texts. If this is also true, what then are we to do? Old desert fathers gave it all up to hear a Voice in the silence, and ended up fighting against bad theology (See Anthony the Great and Athanasius vs Arius). People today give it up to fight a dehumanizing consumerist theology that allows for blind complicity in worldwide abuse and slavery, and end up hearing a Voice in the stillness of what’s left.
Now is the time to be. Silent, aware, and in awe. “Be still, and know that I am God.” As I sat in a creek and watched the tide rise, I realized that simply reading about all of creation moaning for redemption isn’t quite the same as partaking in it, since it is not only we who worship the Creator, but all of His good creation who sing as co-worshippers with us. It is as different as merely reading about babies, and finally participating in the joy and birth of your own child (not that I would know the latter...). The solitude gave volume to the silence, filled with sounds we have lost the ability to hear. For a moment, I believed that if people would stop fearing silence, stop inundating their senses with noise, stop their repression of questions and doubts, to live life as it comes, with a simplicity dictated by need and not excess, there would be a much smaller market for psychologists.
There is something intangible to being still. Perhaps stillness allows us to listen, to both the discord in our own hearts, and to God’s response and assurance that His love is greater than our fear. Perhaps the stillness allows us to see the fluidity and beauty in His created order, as well as how abusive and oppressive our dealings are to that peace. And if adage “time is money” is a creed of the empire Jesus came to overthrow, then reclining in a boat, watching the wind and listening to the tide rise for no particular reason on a Wednesday afternoon may just be the first step in seceding from and subverting the powers and principalities.
For once, I marveled at how everything fit together so well. It’s like getting pulled out of the Matrix and freed from its pervasive illusions, but instead of finding the real world to be full of gunmetal grey, tasteless slop and burlap rags, it was right here, all along, and beautiful, if only we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and One who will make things clear if we are willing.
I have so much to learn and live. (I believe. Help my unbelief.)
Sunday, August 24, 2008
McJesus
Satan: "Welcome to McChurch, home of the Status Quo. How can I help you?"
Dehumanized Consumer: "Hi uh... I'll have a prosperity Gospel with some good feelings, hold the sin and justice. Also, I'll take a side of bad theology and a large cup of dualism please."
S: "Anything else?"
DC: "Yea.. umm.. mix me up some national and cultural arrogance. Put that on top of my globalization."
S: "Your total cost comes out to be Orthodoxy and True Life. Others will help you pay too. Come around to the pickup window."
Friday, August 22, 2008
Remember
[In the act of writing, I hope to bring about that which I lack. In transcribing my thoughts from jumbled electrochemical activity to the English language, I want to give animation and memory to the realities which do not yet exist, and in some way, usher it in.]
Faith, hope, and love.
We are not patient, our eyes are dim, our minds are slow, and our imaginations dull. We can build only so many stairs to climb in our search for leverage over the landscape of our experiences. God knew that our statures are short, our memories vapid and adulterous, prone to wander and in league with the Accuser. We distort our realities and squeeze our pasts through the mold of our ever-vacillating emotions. When set under pressure and fire, our self-serving versions of faithfulness evaporate to leave the ugly stains of bitterness and blame.
"Remember. Remember. Remember my faithfulness, even if you do not feel it now. Remember my healing, my goodness, my presence and my love, even in the midst of darkness and loneliness. Remember, not your uncertainties and selective memories, interpretations or assumptions, but remember me, my Kingdom and my righteousness."
Hope. A biblical hope in the person of God and His character. When all our attempts to usher in the New lay futile and hollow under the spotlight of silence, there can be but one virtue that holds the weight of being. Hope becomes the quintessential anchor of our hearts, especially when our most sincere efforts at love and faithfulness are not enough.
Faith, hope, and love.
We are not patient, our eyes are dim, our minds are slow, and our imaginations dull. We can build only so many stairs to climb in our search for leverage over the landscape of our experiences. God knew that our statures are short, our memories vapid and adulterous, prone to wander and in league with the Accuser. We distort our realities and squeeze our pasts through the mold of our ever-vacillating emotions. When set under pressure and fire, our self-serving versions of faithfulness evaporate to leave the ugly stains of bitterness and blame.
"Remember. Remember. Remember my faithfulness, even if you do not feel it now. Remember my healing, my goodness, my presence and my love, even in the midst of darkness and loneliness. Remember, not your uncertainties and selective memories, interpretations or assumptions, but remember me, my Kingdom and my righteousness."
Hope. A biblical hope in the person of God and His character. When all our attempts to usher in the New lay futile and hollow under the spotlight of silence, there can be but one virtue that holds the weight of being. Hope becomes the quintessential anchor of our hearts, especially when our most sincere efforts at love and faithfulness are not enough.
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