the power to give glory ...

"Imagine how much a man's life would be changed if trusted that he was loved by God? He could interact with the poor and not show partiality, he could love his wife easily and not expect her to redeem him, he would be slow to anger because redemption was no longer at stake, he could be wise and giving with his money because money no longer represented points, he could give up on formulaic religion, knowing that checking stuff off a spiritual to-do list was a worthless pursuit, he would have confidence and the ability to laugh at himself, and he could love people without expecting anything in return. It would be quite beautiful, really ... I bring this up only to say there is a certain freedom in getting our feelings of redemption from God and not other people. This what we have always wanted, isn't it? And it isn't the American dream at all, it is the human dream, the deepest desire of our hearts. I would imagine, then, that the repentance we are called to is about choosing one audience over another. Jesus says many times in the gospel that he knows the heart of man, and the heart of man does not have the power to give glory. I think Jesus is saying, Look, you guys are running around like monkeys trying to get people to clap, but people are fallen, they are separated from God, so they have no idea what is good or bad, worthy to be judged or set free, beautiful or ugly to begin with. Why not get your glory from God? Why not accept your feelings of redemption because of his pleasure in you, not the fickle and empty favor of man? And only then will you know who you are, and only then will you have true, uninhibited relationships with others." (From Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller)

new freedoms ...

"... Mack realized that he too had a fork halfway to his mouth. He gratefully took the bite as Sarayu began to speak. As she did, she seemed to lift off her chair and shimmer with a dance of subtle hues and shades and the room was faintly filling with an array of aromas, incense-like and heady. '... Why do you think we came up with the Ten Commandments?'

Again Mack had his fork halfway to his mouth, but took the bite anyway while he thought of how to answer Sarayu. 'I suppose, at least I have been taught, that it's a set of rules that you expected humans to obey in order to live righteously in your good graces.'

'If that were true, which it's not,' Sarayu countered, 'then how many do you think lived righteously enough to enter our good graces?'

'Not very many, if people are like me,' Mack observed.

'Actually, only one succeeded - Jesus. He not only obeyed the letter of the law but fulfilled the spirit of it completely. But understand this, Mackenzie - to do that he had to rest fully and dependently upon me.'

'Then why did you give us the Ten Commandments?" asked Mack.

'Actually, we wanted you to give up trying to be righteous on your own. It was a mirror to reveal just how filthy your face gets when you live independently.'

'But as I'm sure you know there are many,' responded Mack, 'who think they are made righteous by following the rules.'

'But can you clean your face with the same mirror that shows you how dirty you are? There is no mercy or grace in rules, not even for one mistake. That's why Jesus fulfilled all of it for you - so that it no longer has jurisdiction over you. And the Law that once contained impossible demands - Thou Shall Not ... - actually becomes a promise we fulfill in you.' She was on a roll now, her countenance billowing and moving. 'But keep in mind that if you live your life alone and independently, the promise is empty. Jesus laid the demand of the law to rest; it no longer has any power to accuse or command. Jesus is both the promise and its fulfillment.'

'Are you saying I don't have to follow the rules?' Mack had now completely stopped eating and was concentrating on the conversation.

'Yes. In Jesus you are not under any law. All things are lawful.'

'You can't be serious! You're messing with me again,' moaned Mack.

'Child,' interrupted Papa, 'you ain't heard nuthin' yet.'

'Mackenzie,' Sarayu continued, 'those who are afraid of freedom are those who cannot trust us to live in them. Trying to keep the law is actually a declaration of independence, a way of keeping control.'

'Is that why we like the law so much - to give us some control?' asked Mack.

'It is much worse than that,' resumed Sarayu. 'It grants you the power to judge others and feel superior to them. You believe you are living to a higher standard than those you judge. Enforcing rules, especially in its more subtle expressions like responsibility and expectation, is a vain attempt to create certainty out of uncertainty. And contrary to what you might think, I have a great fondness for uncertainty. Rules cannot bring freedom; they only have the power to accuse.'

'Whoa!' Mack suddenly realized what Sarayu had said. 'Are you telling me that responsibility and expectation are just another form of rules we are no longer under? Did I hear you right?'

'Yup,' Papa interjected again. 'Now we're in it - Sarayu, he is all yours!'

Mack ignored Papa, choosing instead to concentrate on Sarayu, which was no easy task.
Sarayu smiled at Papa and then back at Mack. She began to speak slowly and deliberately, 'Mackenzie, I will take a verb over a noun anytime.'

She stopped and waited. Mack wasn't at all sure about what he was supposed to understand by her cryptic remark and said the only thing that came to mind. 'Huh?'

'I,' she opened her hands to include Jesus and Papa, 'I am a verb. I am that I am. I will be who I will be. I am a verb! I am alive, dynamic, ever active, and moving. I am a being verb.'

Mack still felt like he had a blank stare on his face. He understood the words she was saying, but it just wasn't connecting yet.

'And as my very essence is a verb,' she continued, 'I am more attuned to verbs than nouns. Verbs such as confessing, repenting, living, loving, responding, growing, reaping, changing, sowing, running, dancing, singing, and on and on. Humans, on the other hand, have a knack for taking a verb that is alive and full of grace and turning it into a dead noun or principle that reeks of rules: something growing and alive dies. Nouns exist because there is a created universe and physical reality, but if the universe is only a mass of nouns, it is dead. Unless 'I am,' there are no verbs, and verbs are what makes the universe alive.'

'And,' Mack was still struggling, although a glimmer of light seemed to begin to shine into his mind. 'And, this means what, exactly?'

Sarayu seemed unperturbed by his lack of understanding. 'For something to move from death to life you must introduce something living and moving into the mix. To move from something that is only a noun to something dynamic and unpredictable, to something living and present tense, is to move from law to grace. May I give you a couple examples?'

'Please do,' assented Mack. 'I'm all ears.'

Jesus chuckled and Mack scowled at him before turning back to Sarayu. The faintest shadow of a smile crossed her face as she resumed.

'Then let's use your two words: responsibility and expectation. Before your words became nouns, they were first my words, nouns with movement and experience buried inside of them; the ability to respond and expectancy. My words are alive and dynamic - full of life and possibility; yours are dead, full of law and fear and judgment. That is why you won't find the word responsibility in the Scriptures.'

'Oh boy,' Mack grimaced, beginning to see where this was going. 'We sure seem to use it a lot.'

'Religion must use law to empower itself and control the people who they need in order to survive. I give you an ability to respond and your response is to be free to love and serve in every situation, and therefore each moment is different and unique and wonderful. Because I am your ability to respond, I have to be present in you. If I simply gave you a responsibility, I would not have to be with you at all. It would now be a task to perform, an obligation to be met, something to fail. Let's use the example of friendship and how removing the element of life from a noun can drastically alter a relationship. Mack, if you and I are friends, there is an expectancy that exists within our relationship. When we see each other or are apart, there is expectancy of being together, of laughter and talking. That expectancy has no concrete definition; it is alive and dynamic and everything that emerges from our being together is a unique gift shared by no one else. But what happens if I change that 'expectancy' to an 'expectation' - spoken or unspoken? Suddenly, law has entered into our relationship. You are now expected to perform in a way that meets my expectations. Our living friendship rapidly deteriorates into a dead thing with rules and requirements. It is no longer about you and me, but about what friends are supposed to do, or the responsibilities of a good friend.'

'Or,' noted Mack, 'the responsibilities of a husband, or a father, or employee, or whatever. I get the picture. I would much rather live in expectancy.'

'As I do,' mused Sarayu.

'But,' argued Mack, 'if you didn't have expectations and responsibilities, wouldn't everything just fall apart?'

'Only if you are of the world, apart from me and under the law. Responsibilities and expectations are the basis of guilt and shame and judgment, and they provide the essential framework that promotes performance as the basis for identity and value. You know well what it is like not to live up to someone's expectations.'

'Boy, do I!' Mack mumbled. 'It's not my idea of a good time.' He paused briefly, a new thought flashing through his mind. 'Are you saying you don't have expectations of me?'

Papa now spoke up. 'Honey, I've never placed an expectation on you or anyone else. The idea behind expectations requires that someone does not know the future or outcome and is trying to control behavior to get the desired result. Humans try to control behavior largely through expectations. I know you and everything about you. Why would I have expectation other that what I already know? That would be foolish. And beyond that, because I have no expectations, you never disappoint me.'

'What? You've never been disappointed in me?' Mack was trying hard to digest this.

'Never!' Papa stated emphatically. 'What I do have is a constant and living expectancy in our relationship, and I give you an ability to respond to any situation and circumstance in which you find yourself. To the degree that you resort to expectations and responsibilities, to that degree you neither know me nor trust me.'

'And,' interjected Jesus, 'to that degree you will live in fear.'

'But,' Mack wasn't convinced. 'But don't you want us to set priorities? You know: God first, then whatever, followed by whatever?'

'The trouble with living by priorities,' Sarayu spoke, 'is that it sees everything as a hierarchy, a pyramid, and you and I have already had that discussion. If you put God at the top, what does that really mean and how much is enough? How much time do you give me before you can go on about the rest of your day, the part that interests you so much more?'

Papa again interrupted. 'You see, Mackenzie, I don't just want a piece of you and a piece of your life. Even if you were able, which you are not, to give me the biggest piece, that is not what I want. I want all of you and all of every part of you and your day.'

Jesus now spoke again. 'Mack, I don't want to be first among a list of values; I want to be at the center of everything. When I live in you, then together we can live through everything that happens to you. Rather than a pyramid, I want to be the center of a mobile, where everything in your life - your friends, family, occupation, thoughts, activities - is connected to me but moved with the wind, in and out and back and forth, in an incredible dance of being.'

'And I,' concluded Sarayu, 'am the wind.' She smiled hugely and bowed.

There was silence while Mack collected himself. He had been gripping the edge of the table with both hands as if to hold on to something tangible in the face of such an onslaught of ideas and images.

'Well, enough of all this,' stated Papa, getting up from her chair. 'Time for some fun! You all go ahead while I put away the stuff that will spoil. I'll take care of the dishes later.'
(From The Shack by William P. Young)

just to have it out ...

I have been reading and reading and reading another blog today and her transparency and candor are graceful and her writing is gorgeous. She tells her story of redemption with marked poignancy and forms words into perfect metaphors to make it all so real and graspable.

To be honest, it's left me with a desire to be a little more transparent with some things in my own life as well. The truth is, I'm broken. Very broken. Sometimes (maybe too often?) I try to hide it and cover it up with things to make me appear not so broken. But I know the truth and I am beginning to realize that covering it up only breaks my pieces into smaller bits until soon I will be nothing but a soft heap of fine sand.

This is where I am these days.

Why do I dare to make the vital and life-sucking mistake of constantly comparing myself to other people that I think appear to have it all together, or more together than I do? Why do I do that? Take my sister Traci for instance. I love her. I love her husband and all 6 of her soon to be 7 kids. I watch her in her life and think to myself, Man, why does she have it so together and I don't? How is it she goes through life seemingly not struggling with anything? How is it she has everything and I struggle to make ends meet? And I have a friend, Amy, that I admire greatly, for her writing abilities, for her eye for capturing a great photograph, for her faith, for her beauty and brokenness and boldness. But I can't just leave it at admiring her. I feel this compulsion toward feeling "less-than" simply because I'm not her. I want her to validate me as if she's the one from whom I receive my worth. And honestly, we aren't even close. We were a lot closer 5 years ago or so and I'm not real sure what happened but something changed. Then there's the subject of my car. It's ugly. It's old. Not everything works properly. My door handle is a different color than the rest of it and there's a dent in the passenger side door. And I care entirely too much about those things. I sometimes find myself ashamedly parking away from other people if I'm meeting friends somewhere in hopes they won't see it. I'm embarassed by it even though I know, as Tyler Durden said in Fight Club, "You are not the car you drive and you are not the contents of your wallet." And all of a sudden I'm back to trying to find something to fill whatever it is I feel I'm lacking. All along I know it's a God-shaped hole, not a shirt shaped hole or a cd shaped hole or a lunch shaped hole.

That's another thing. Sometimes I find myself wanting, nay needing, to prove to others, even if I'm alone, that I have money, or that I can go out to eat or get a decaf javanilla shake, even though I really can't. And so I perpetuate the cycle and it never ends. It seems like the less money I have the more I spend for some reason. Actually, it's exactly that: the less I have, the more I feel I have to prove to others and maybe even to myself. I get a little money and I find all kinds of reasons, real or not, to justify spending it. I hate that part of me. It's ugly like a cancer that I want removed, cut out of me. I've had periods in my life when I was responsible and was able to save money instead of spending it but these days I'm struggling. Being unemployed I'm sure has a lot to do with it but so do my own poor choices and it pains me admitting that. We all have affairs, and mine repeatedly seems to be with money.

Sure, I have days when I am happily just me and rest in the knowledge that I am who God says I am and that he gave me my worth. But that's not always. And I have a pretty wonderful life, seriously, I know it could be a lot worse and I don't have to go very far to find people hurting more than I am. But I just feel I should be more thankful for it, more at rest. The book Captivating talks about a woman's heart and says that a truly beautiful heart is one that isn't striving but is just at rest with God and who she is, who he created her to be (should be required reading for every woman/girl). And there's I Peter Chapter 3 that says this: "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful." I have that verse taped up in a couple of places but the truth of it still has yet to sink in to the very depths of my heart.

I know the roots of most of these things, if not all. I have had 32 years of moments when my value and worth were stripped from me or left in piles of broken china on the kitchen floor. That's not the point here. The point here is just to have it out, out into the light because darkness and Light cannot coexist. It's physically impossible. Shame and grace cannot occupy the same space. I hope to be a little more candid here on my blog in the future. I'm not saying I haven't been honest or transparent before now, but I'm only saying that I hope to be more so. I know a few weeks ago I posted about Donald Miller and his "lifeboat theory" that we all act as if we're on a lifeboat with 10 other people, but there's only room for 10 total, so one of us has to go and so we all try to prove that we should be one who stays. It resonated deep within me and for a while it was quite effective at allowing me to be at rest with who I am. But here the last few days, I have somehow, through a variety of circumstances, gotten away from that and let the lie creep back in that I have something to prove to others so that they'll let me remain in the boat. As if they get to decide. I'm tired of living that way. It's exhausting. So I'm committing myself to bringing things out into the light here in the hopes that it will help me be more accountable for my thoughts and actions. If I know I've committed to posting about it maybe it will help change my behavior / thougths?

I feel compelled to add, I know the Truth. I know from where my self-worth comes. I also know that it's the broken things that find redemption. Beauty out of ashes. This is the hope to which I cling.

the truth, an excerpt ...

I love you, God— you make me strong.
God is bedrock under my feet,
the castle in which I live,
my rescuing knight.

My God—the high crag
where I run for dear life,
hiding behind the boulders,
safe in the granite hideout.

I sing to God, the Praise-Lofty,
and find myself safe and saved.

The hangman's noose was tight at my throat;
devil waters rushed over me.
Hell's ropes cinched me tight;
death traps barred every exit.

A hostile world! I call to God,
I cry to God to help me.
From his palace he hears my call;
my cry brings me right into his presence—
a private audience!

But me he caught—reached all the way
from sky to sea; he pulled me out
Of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos,
the void in which I was drowning.
They hit me when I was down,
but God stuck by me.
He stood me up on a wide-open field;
I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!

God made my life complete
when I placed all the pieces before him.
When I got my act together,
he gave me a fresh start.
Now I'm alert to God's ways;
I don't take God for granted.
Every day I review the ways he works;
I try not to miss a trick.
I feel put back together,
and I'm watching my step.
God rewrote the text of my life
when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.

(excerpts from Psalm 18 in The Message)