Annoyance: A state I do not find myself in too terribly often.
A state in which I have remained incessantly this week.
A state completely opposite of mutual affection and honor.
I have been thinking about ways to show mutual affection to others this week and ways to outdo one another in showing honor.
I was too busy to do any of them. Too tired, too stressed, too structured.
I made excuses — told myself I would do better tomorrow, and spent each day doing exactly as I planned without any real need to care for others.
I would go to the SDR for dinner and inform someone of yet another annoying statement out of the mouth of the one person who I found more irritating that any other this week. I complained about him with a passion to anyone who knew him well enough to understand but not well enough to tell him.
I rolled my eyes at friends for behaving in a way I found unsatisfactory. I grew irritated with girls who hung up signs a day late. Mocked girls who had bad ideas. Gossiped about friends who I felt were inappropriately affectionate with their significant others at a party.
I did nothing out of mutual affection, failed completely at showing honor.
Usually at this point, I tell some wonderful story about turning things around, about my one redemptive action.
Not today.
Today I admit I failed. Today I learn humility through failure and hope earnestly that I may learn what it means to love others truly and full-heartedly. That I may show honor to those around me, even when it is inconvenient.
Lord, teach me how to love like you do. May I exude your presence, your love, your passion for people. May I continually stand in awe of your amazing works and worship you in words and actions. May I humbly bow before you broken and dirty, knowing that you hate my sin, but have punished it already and will receive me, cleansed in the blood of Christ. Amen.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Waiting for the Imminent
The Theme of this Week: Outdo one another in showing honor; Love One Another with Mutual Affection.
Today's Unrelated Theme: The Second Coming.
Last night was cold. Leaving Loyola at half past nine, I quickly took off down Kenmore Avenue, hoping that the street lamps would not only keep me safe, but warm. I shivered under my Fall coat, wondering why on earth I was wearing a coat made for the 50's when it was clearly not about 22. My hands turned into icicles and I hoped the el magically would appear in front of me, so that I would not continue to freeze for the 2 more blocks to the train.
My frigid hands fumbled for my U-Pass inside my purse and I quickly slid my transit card into slot, hoping the speed of my transaction would increase the blood flow to my fingertips. I ran up the stairs, hoping the sound of a train pulling in was mine and I could ride in the moderately heated car back to campus to my bed with 5 layers of blankets.
Instead, I stood on the platform and waited. Emma had told me a story of the impatience of Chicagoans and the way they will literally walk out into the middle road to see if the bus is coming. Determined to not be like my peers, I stood under the heat lamp on the El, wondering if maybe it were just a light and not a heater because I was still freezing.
I waited. I stood. I wiggled. I waited.
I looked down the platform and assessed the number of people. Using some sort of skewed logic, I determined that train must be coming quickly. Its arrival was imminent.
And I waited. I stood. I danced to keep feeling in my toes, and I waited.
The train would be here soon. Its arrival was imminent and I prayed that I was right. I asked God to send the train soon, for my whole body yearned to ride it back to my home.
I waited. I stood. I begged God for the train. And I waited.
Then it came! It turned the corner into Granville station with the signature screech of the brakes. It pulled up in front of me, and the grin on my face alerted everyone of my exceeding joy over its appearance. I gleefully stepped on board, found a seat that looked moderately clean and even less comfortable and absorbed the warmth of the train.
As blood started returning to my brain, my thoughts moved from my extremities to God and I realized what I had done.
Most days, I don't pray for the Lord's Return. Truthfully, most days I don't even want it that much. Most days, I am pretty content with who I am and what I am doing and would feel terribly dissatisfied if God came before I graduated college, or finished my internship or got married. Most days, I want Christ's return figuratively, in the not so near future.
I had more faith and love for the imminent arrival of a train than I did for the imminent arrival of Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 1:7 tells us to eagerly wait for the Lord's Return. Matthew 6:10 tells us to pray for God's kingdom to come.
Standing on an el platform late at night, my cry to God should be that he comes in glory at this moment. That he makes my salvation complete through his second coming — the third Easter. May I long for Christ with the concentration I await a train.
May I believe that Christ is imminent in as a true of a sense as I believe public transportation is.
Today's Unrelated Theme: The Second Coming.
Last night was cold. Leaving Loyola at half past nine, I quickly took off down Kenmore Avenue, hoping that the street lamps would not only keep me safe, but warm. I shivered under my Fall coat, wondering why on earth I was wearing a coat made for the 50's when it was clearly not about 22. My hands turned into icicles and I hoped the el magically would appear in front of me, so that I would not continue to freeze for the 2 more blocks to the train.
My frigid hands fumbled for my U-Pass inside my purse and I quickly slid my transit card into slot, hoping the speed of my transaction would increase the blood flow to my fingertips. I ran up the stairs, hoping the sound of a train pulling in was mine and I could ride in the moderately heated car back to campus to my bed with 5 layers of blankets.
Instead, I stood on the platform and waited. Emma had told me a story of the impatience of Chicagoans and the way they will literally walk out into the middle road to see if the bus is coming. Determined to not be like my peers, I stood under the heat lamp on the El, wondering if maybe it were just a light and not a heater because I was still freezing.
I waited. I stood. I wiggled. I waited.
I looked down the platform and assessed the number of people. Using some sort of skewed logic, I determined that train must be coming quickly. Its arrival was imminent.
And I waited. I stood. I danced to keep feeling in my toes, and I waited.
The train would be here soon. Its arrival was imminent and I prayed that I was right. I asked God to send the train soon, for my whole body yearned to ride it back to my home.
I waited. I stood. I begged God for the train. And I waited.
Then it came! It turned the corner into Granville station with the signature screech of the brakes. It pulled up in front of me, and the grin on my face alerted everyone of my exceeding joy over its appearance. I gleefully stepped on board, found a seat that looked moderately clean and even less comfortable and absorbed the warmth of the train.
As blood started returning to my brain, my thoughts moved from my extremities to God and I realized what I had done.
Most days, I don't pray for the Lord's Return. Truthfully, most days I don't even want it that much. Most days, I am pretty content with who I am and what I am doing and would feel terribly dissatisfied if God came before I graduated college, or finished my internship or got married. Most days, I want Christ's return figuratively, in the not so near future.
I had more faith and love for the imminent arrival of a train than I did for the imminent arrival of Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 1:7 tells us to eagerly wait for the Lord's Return. Matthew 6:10 tells us to pray for God's kingdom to come.
Standing on an el platform late at night, my cry to God should be that he comes in glory at this moment. That he makes my salvation complete through his second coming — the third Easter. May I long for Christ with the concentration I await a train.
May I believe that Christ is imminent in as a true of a sense as I believe public transportation is.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Clinging to Indiana
Right now, I’m on my way back to Chicago from a short stint in Indiana with a few good friends and their friends. From sipping (free!) coffee in a rural Starbucks while the snow fell around us to making homemade agave nectar-wheat-oatmeal-flax bread (LB’s recipe) for lunch, I was filled with quiet, refreshing moments. I was reminded why, after 8 long years, we were still friends. We talked candidly about our future hopes, dreams and fears. Talked about boys from our past and our present, learning how to be content with where we were, who we were, who God was making us to be.
Leaving is hard and yet, not too hard. She has been a great friend and will continue to be, regardless where our lives take us. At sixteen, we agreed to have international cocktail parties meeting halfway between my life in England and hers in South Africa. We planned on being fully committed moms who made homemade bread and taught our kids economics and philosophy after school — all while working dream jobs at the UN. Each trip home is a reminder of who I said I will be and a glorious affirmation of who I am becoming.
Cling to what is good: this moment is meant to be savored. Each hard experience needs to be tempered with reminders of the good. Not every Saturday can be this simply satisfying, but this one does and when the world seems to be crumbling, I should always cling to times like these.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Cling to What is Good
I love my floor.
Tonight, I went from room to room to make sure they didn't have anything illegal: porn, alcohol, wooden crates.
Knocking on the doors of each room, I was pleasantly greeted by girls on my floor who, for a few minutes, I could dedicate all my attention to. Each room I went to had another girl with a story to tell — another girl that I missed. 3 hours later, I had finally finished looking for surge protectors and 3M hooks. 3 hours later, I was fully refreshed remembering the joy of community.
Today was a day for clinging to what is good. It was long. It was full. And it was beautiful.
May God be glorified through our communities.
Tonight, I went from room to room to make sure they didn't have anything illegal: porn, alcohol, wooden crates.
Knocking on the doors of each room, I was pleasantly greeted by girls on my floor who, for a few minutes, I could dedicate all my attention to. Each room I went to had another girl with a story to tell — another girl that I missed. 3 hours later, I had finally finished looking for surge protectors and 3M hooks. 3 hours later, I was fully refreshed remembering the joy of community.
Today was a day for clinging to what is good. It was long. It was full. And it was beautiful.
May God be glorified through our communities.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Getting Really Good at Being a Christian
"Getting really good at being a Christian means you stop thinking about you all the time."
Today I learned:
1) it is possible to "get really good" at being a Christian.
2) Being a "really good" Christian and finding your life's purpose has nothing to do with Jesus.
Thanks Women's Ministry department of Ask.com! I'm glad you are here to direct my life.
Read this fantastic article for yourself here.
I know this post is flowing with sarcasm, but it does serve some edifying purpose. My life goal is to teach women theology in such a way that it is both full of truth and depth while adequately feminine. Women do not need to lose their ability to think in order to embrace emotion (and neither do men).
Today, I nearly cried in class about the transmission of sin (and actually did go back to my room and cry about it later). There is nothing wrong with doing so. Rather, there is beauty in the affective nature of theology. May I spend many more days crying over our fallen humanity and many more days rejoicing over our redemption. May you do likewise.
Today I learned:
1) it is possible to "get really good" at being a Christian.
2) Being a "really good" Christian and finding your life's purpose has nothing to do with Jesus.
Thanks Women's Ministry department of Ask.com! I'm glad you are here to direct my life.
Read this fantastic article for yourself here.
I know this post is flowing with sarcasm, but it does serve some edifying purpose. My life goal is to teach women theology in such a way that it is both full of truth and depth while adequately feminine. Women do not need to lose their ability to think in order to embrace emotion (and neither do men).
Today, I nearly cried in class about the transmission of sin (and actually did go back to my room and cry about it later). There is nothing wrong with doing so. Rather, there is beauty in the affective nature of theology. May I spend many more days crying over our fallen humanity and many more days rejoicing over our redemption. May you do likewise.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Series of Unfortunate Events
It should have been a pretty typical afternoon. Liz and I agreed to go and "be productive" at an awesome coffee shop in Logan Square. [New Wave Coffee: a place you all should frequent because a) the coffee is AMAZING, b) they actually play music you would want to listen to, c) vegan cupcakes and "unfriend me" sourheart cookies, d) free wifi, e) bottomless cups of coffee and about a dozen more things I could continue to rave about] We packed up our things and headed to the 66 bus stop at Chicago and LaSalle.
It should have occurred to us that when the man at the bus stop tried to make small talk with us about the efficiency of Chicagoans compared to New Yorkers that we were in for something other than ordinary. Alas, we rode the bus discussing our futures and our presents, smiling as we glanced out the window to discuss creative names of bars and the interesting choice of graffiti we passed.
Walking down Milwaukee Avenue, on our way to a delectable cup of coffee, [My drink, sweetly entitled the "Hail Mary," is another reason to frequent New Wave Coffee: a chai latte with two perfectly crafted shots of Metropolis espresso mixed in] the 56 bus passes us, and like a scene from a movie, splashes dirty water up Liz's side. We laugh and assess the damage, continuing our trek to the coffee mecca.
After scoring an unfortunately wobbly table in the packed, albeit large cafe, Liz and I sat down to power through some homework with our coffees topped with perfect microfoam. As I geek out over editing my Excel attendance sheet, I glance over at one of the many bearded men in the coffee shop and notice his odd posture. Perched on the edge of his seat, his legs were perfectly crossed Indian style so that it appeared he was floating. Intrigued, I informed Liz that I was fairly sure I could not hold the same pose. As is to be expected after statements such as that, I attempted to fold myself into a pretzel like this other man. My right foot tucked beneath my left thigh, I began to lift my left leg telling Liz, "my pants are too tight to try this." At that precise moment, I grabbed my boot and tugged, determined to prove I could mimic this man's position. And with that statement of irony, I hear a small tear, realizing that my pants are indeed too tight for such a position, and am now left with a hole in my favorite pair of jeans.
Embarrassing? Of Course. But hilarious nonetheless.
Shortly thereafter, Liz and I pack up our things and head back to the bus stop, not without of course, my slipping on the ice, proving that despite my cross-legged inflexibility, I am still able to do the splits.
Only moments later, standing on Milwaukee Avenue in Wicker Park, a white conversion van, the vehicle of child molesters, drives by Liz and I, proclaiming out the window, "I love your haircut!" The van does a U-turn in the middle of a busy road, drives back by us and this time both the driver and the passenger give us a thumbs up. Liz and I turn to one another and decide, this is the perfect ending to a perfectly off afternoon.
It should have occurred to us that when the man at the bus stop tried to make small talk with us about the efficiency of Chicagoans compared to New Yorkers that we were in for something other than ordinary. Alas, we rode the bus discussing our futures and our presents, smiling as we glanced out the window to discuss creative names of bars and the interesting choice of graffiti we passed.
Walking down Milwaukee Avenue, on our way to a delectable cup of coffee, [My drink, sweetly entitled the "Hail Mary," is another reason to frequent New Wave Coffee: a chai latte with two perfectly crafted shots of Metropolis espresso mixed in] the 56 bus passes us, and like a scene from a movie, splashes dirty water up Liz's side. We laugh and assess the damage, continuing our trek to the coffee mecca.
After scoring an unfortunately wobbly table in the packed, albeit large cafe, Liz and I sat down to power through some homework with our coffees topped with perfect microfoam. As I geek out over editing my Excel attendance sheet, I glance over at one of the many bearded men in the coffee shop and notice his odd posture. Perched on the edge of his seat, his legs were perfectly crossed Indian style so that it appeared he was floating. Intrigued, I informed Liz that I was fairly sure I could not hold the same pose. As is to be expected after statements such as that, I attempted to fold myself into a pretzel like this other man. My right foot tucked beneath my left thigh, I began to lift my left leg telling Liz, "my pants are too tight to try this." At that precise moment, I grabbed my boot and tugged, determined to prove I could mimic this man's position. And with that statement of irony, I hear a small tear, realizing that my pants are indeed too tight for such a position, and am now left with a hole in my favorite pair of jeans.
Embarrassing? Of Course. But hilarious nonetheless.
Shortly thereafter, Liz and I pack up our things and head back to the bus stop, not without of course, my slipping on the ice, proving that despite my cross-legged inflexibility, I am still able to do the splits.
Only moments later, standing on Milwaukee Avenue in Wicker Park, a white conversion van, the vehicle of child molesters, drives by Liz and I, proclaiming out the window, "I love your haircut!" The van does a U-turn in the middle of a busy road, drives back by us and this time both the driver and the passenger give us a thumbs up. Liz and I turn to one another and decide, this is the perfect ending to a perfectly off afternoon.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Hate What is Evil: Eve
I'm ready for Hate Week to be over. (and yes, I am making a 1984 reference.)
This morning, I decided to skip my morning jog, make myself a latte and not leave my room. Cozied up on my couch in my pajamas, I sip my creamy, slightly caffeinated beverage and think, "This is good. Really good."
The funny thing about spending a week hating what is evil is that, by the end, all you want to think about is what is good. There is a reason Paul says both. Hate what is evil: cling to what is good.
Truthfully, there is only so much hate you can develop without needing something good. I find myself drawn to those things that are delightful more and more as I born those things that are evil.
I am so ready to stop hating.
During this whole week, there was one thing that I kept dwelling on. One evil I could not let go of: primordial sin. Genesis 3, when Adam and Eve first become sinners and are removed from the garden grieves me. I hate the sin. I hate the story. I hate the deception. Yet, I cannot hate the people.
Dr. Johnson, one of my favorite professors, discussed Genesis 3 all week in class. I assure you, I have only the utmost respect for his thoughts and the way he delves into the topic. I have only one concern: he is fully and utterly a thinker.
My biggest problem, and I believe my greatest strength, is that I am a feeler. I can try to fight it with my whole being, craving to be purely intellectual, but at the end of the day, I feel theology more than I think it. Therefore, when we discuss the first sin of mankind and talk about Eve, I will emote with the situation with great sadness, and will be unable to say things like Eve was already off track the moment she first speaks and misquotes God. I cannot look at it rationally, but must see it relationally.
For all of you who have followed my blog long term, you have already heard my Redeeming Eve diatribe. For everyone else, let me abridge it by saying: there is so much more going on than a selfish woman eating an apple. There is the first example of deception, something Eve nor Adam had experienced; there was a rightful desire to do what was best, even if it was wrong; there was second-hand knowledge and male passivity; there was a lack of knowledge of good and evil.
I don't claim to know it all. I don't even claim to know a little. But what I do know is that sin should grieve the community of God. Sin is not merely individual -- it has corporate ramifications. Sin happened in the Garden and we should hate that fiercely as evil. But at the end of the day, we have no right to hate Eve. She sinned by her own decision but was influenced by her circumstances. Adam should have backed her up. Satan should not have been there. She was wrong -- like we all are.
Its easy to demonize Eve and make her out to be the reason why people cry out for epidurals during childbirth and farming is back-breaking labor. Truthfully, Eve was just like the rest of us: doing the wrong thing because it seemed like the right thing. Eve sinned in context of her relationships. Her sin had consequences on those same relationships.
And that's why sin is so worthy of hate: because it never lives in isolation.
Let love be genuine. Hate What is Evil.
How I long to cling to what is good.
This morning, I decided to skip my morning jog, make myself a latte and not leave my room. Cozied up on my couch in my pajamas, I sip my creamy, slightly caffeinated beverage and think, "This is good. Really good."
The funny thing about spending a week hating what is evil is that, by the end, all you want to think about is what is good. There is a reason Paul says both. Hate what is evil: cling to what is good.
Truthfully, there is only so much hate you can develop without needing something good. I find myself drawn to those things that are delightful more and more as I born those things that are evil.
I am so ready to stop hating.
During this whole week, there was one thing that I kept dwelling on. One evil I could not let go of: primordial sin. Genesis 3, when Adam and Eve first become sinners and are removed from the garden grieves me. I hate the sin. I hate the story. I hate the deception. Yet, I cannot hate the people.
Dr. Johnson, one of my favorite professors, discussed Genesis 3 all week in class. I assure you, I have only the utmost respect for his thoughts and the way he delves into the topic. I have only one concern: he is fully and utterly a thinker.
My biggest problem, and I believe my greatest strength, is that I am a feeler. I can try to fight it with my whole being, craving to be purely intellectual, but at the end of the day, I feel theology more than I think it. Therefore, when we discuss the first sin of mankind and talk about Eve, I will emote with the situation with great sadness, and will be unable to say things like Eve was already off track the moment she first speaks and misquotes God. I cannot look at it rationally, but must see it relationally.
For all of you who have followed my blog long term, you have already heard my Redeeming Eve diatribe. For everyone else, let me abridge it by saying: there is so much more going on than a selfish woman eating an apple. There is the first example of deception, something Eve nor Adam had experienced; there was a rightful desire to do what was best, even if it was wrong; there was second-hand knowledge and male passivity; there was a lack of knowledge of good and evil.
I don't claim to know it all. I don't even claim to know a little. But what I do know is that sin should grieve the community of God. Sin is not merely individual -- it has corporate ramifications. Sin happened in the Garden and we should hate that fiercely as evil. But at the end of the day, we have no right to hate Eve. She sinned by her own decision but was influenced by her circumstances. Adam should have backed her up. Satan should not have been there. She was wrong -- like we all are.
Its easy to demonize Eve and make her out to be the reason why people cry out for epidurals during childbirth and farming is back-breaking labor. Truthfully, Eve was just like the rest of us: doing the wrong thing because it seemed like the right thing. Eve sinned in context of her relationships. Her sin had consequences on those same relationships.
And that's why sin is so worthy of hate: because it never lives in isolation.
Let love be genuine. Hate What is Evil.
How I long to cling to what is good.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Hate What Is Evil
The irony that my first day of classes is on my first day of meditation about hating evil is impressive. Today, I wondered what a week of hating evil would look like, trying to wrap my fingers around how one learns what genuine love is by hating.
I thought it ironic that the course of events for today unfolded as it did.
A brief conversation about Satanism.
A course all about sin and salvation.
A discussion with an atheist and a lapsed Christian on the oppression of the church.
And I thought, this is what it means to hate what is evil.
It is right, even good, to hate things that are detestable. Loving people means hating genocide. Loving God means hating heresy.
But something about it seems so wrong. Counter-cultural. Mean-spirited.
We all know that we are called to love God with all our hearts, minds and spirits. We all know that the first command is to love God and the second is like it: love one another. We know that God is love and we have been told since kindergarten if not sooner that Jesus loves us.
I don't remember the last time I was reminded God hates.
Last semester, in a Bible study through Exodus, I continually required the wonderful freshmen in my group to think about God contrary to their expectations. We focused on God's wrath, his bloodthirstiness, his anger towards Moses' cowardice. We talked about the God who hates. The God who kills Pharaoh's army.
It is easy to read those stories and believe that the God of the Old Testament is a different god altogether. It is easy to read those accounts and determine that it must all be moralistic myths written by an aggressive people worshipping a deity of their own creation. But as easy as it may be, its not truth.
In order for God to love, he had to hate. In order for God to demonstrate covenant faithfulness with his people, he had to destroy those who sought to harm the Israelites. In order for God to be worthy of worship, he needed to be something other than warm and fuzzy. No one worships the Care Bears — and for good reason. A God without wrath is a God unable to follow through on his promises.
I have a theory: in order to make God less offensive and more desirable to people, we have polished away God's wrath and replaced it with Victorian pastoral images of a shepherd with cuddly sheep and a Jesus who looks like a day care worker with children climbing all over him. We've ignored a God of depth and replaced him with an icon that makes us feel good. Because of this, Christianity has failed to be culturally relevant because God has become just "the big man upstairs" an absent, unassuming, wish-granting deity.
In our efforts to make God more, we've made him so much less.
I find myself struggling to want to hate. I want to love everything. I want to affirm people and give them gold stars for effort. I don't want to speak out against evil. I want to be congenial. And I shouldn't be surprised by my desires. It is so much easier to be liked if all you do is make people feel good. It is easy to be a Christian if all you are asked for is to receive love.
We worship a suffering savior. Therefore, our faith is inherently offensive. May we see truth as our guide and seek good with our full beings. May we remember that full love requires hatred.
Amos 5:14-15: "Seek good and not evil, that you may live; and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you, just as you have said. Hate evil and love good, and establish justice in the gate; it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph."
I thought it ironic that the course of events for today unfolded as it did.
A brief conversation about Satanism.
A course all about sin and salvation.
A discussion with an atheist and a lapsed Christian on the oppression of the church.
And I thought, this is what it means to hate what is evil.
It is right, even good, to hate things that are detestable. Loving people means hating genocide. Loving God means hating heresy.
But something about it seems so wrong. Counter-cultural. Mean-spirited.
We all know that we are called to love God with all our hearts, minds and spirits. We all know that the first command is to love God and the second is like it: love one another. We know that God is love and we have been told since kindergarten if not sooner that Jesus loves us.
I don't remember the last time I was reminded God hates.
Last semester, in a Bible study through Exodus, I continually required the wonderful freshmen in my group to think about God contrary to their expectations. We focused on God's wrath, his bloodthirstiness, his anger towards Moses' cowardice. We talked about the God who hates. The God who kills Pharaoh's army.
It is easy to read those stories and believe that the God of the Old Testament is a different god altogether. It is easy to read those accounts and determine that it must all be moralistic myths written by an aggressive people worshipping a deity of their own creation. But as easy as it may be, its not truth.
In order for God to love, he had to hate. In order for God to demonstrate covenant faithfulness with his people, he had to destroy those who sought to harm the Israelites. In order for God to be worthy of worship, he needed to be something other than warm and fuzzy. No one worships the Care Bears — and for good reason. A God without wrath is a God unable to follow through on his promises.
I have a theory: in order to make God less offensive and more desirable to people, we have polished away God's wrath and replaced it with Victorian pastoral images of a shepherd with cuddly sheep and a Jesus who looks like a day care worker with children climbing all over him. We've ignored a God of depth and replaced him with an icon that makes us feel good. Because of this, Christianity has failed to be culturally relevant because God has become just "the big man upstairs" an absent, unassuming, wish-granting deity.
In our efforts to make God more, we've made him so much less.
I find myself struggling to want to hate. I want to love everything. I want to affirm people and give them gold stars for effort. I don't want to speak out against evil. I want to be congenial. And I shouldn't be surprised by my desires. It is so much easier to be liked if all you do is make people feel good. It is easy to be a Christian if all you are asked for is to receive love.
We worship a suffering savior. Therefore, our faith is inherently offensive. May we see truth as our guide and seek good with our full beings. May we remember that full love requires hatred.
Amos 5:14-15: "Seek good and not evil, that you may live; and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you, just as you have said. Hate evil and love good, and establish justice in the gate; it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph."
Friday, January 7, 2011
Let Love Be Genuine
Romans 12:9-21
Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be conceited. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
That's a lot to take in. Reading Romans 12 can make you feel like you're reading a rule book, and the weight of the obligation settles on top of you. But it doesn't have to feel like that. The beauty of this passage is that it demonstrates what it looks like to be who we want to be. Personal opinion: the opening sentence is a header. Let love be genuine. Its not a unique instruction, but the lead into what follows. What does it mean for love to be genuine? It means to outdo others in showing honor. It means to associate with the lowly. It means overcoming evil with good. True love longs to do these things.
Sitting in a hip hop worship service in Lawndale a few weeks ago, I heard a young Marine preach one of the best sermons I had ever heard on this passage. He reminded his friends in the congregation that loving others is costly. Its not always fun and it certainly is not easy, but we do it anyways because God first loved us.
This semester, I want to learn what it means for love to be genuine. I want to flood my day to day life with Romans 12 behavior. And, so with an ounce of structure and a pound of reflection, I'm embracing this passage whole-heartedly.
Each week, I will have one command to follow for the week and I will seek to live out that aspect of genuine love. At the end of each week, and maybe at other times, I will blog about this journey, sharing what I've learned, what I've done and how I've failed.
Lord, humble me and teach me to be your servant. Show me the glory of serving others in your name. May I become less so that you become more. May I bless others as you have blessed me.
Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be conceited. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
That's a lot to take in. Reading Romans 12 can make you feel like you're reading a rule book, and the weight of the obligation settles on top of you. But it doesn't have to feel like that. The beauty of this passage is that it demonstrates what it looks like to be who we want to be. Personal opinion: the opening sentence is a header. Let love be genuine. Its not a unique instruction, but the lead into what follows. What does it mean for love to be genuine? It means to outdo others in showing honor. It means to associate with the lowly. It means overcoming evil with good. True love longs to do these things.
Sitting in a hip hop worship service in Lawndale a few weeks ago, I heard a young Marine preach one of the best sermons I had ever heard on this passage. He reminded his friends in the congregation that loving others is costly. Its not always fun and it certainly is not easy, but we do it anyways because God first loved us.
This semester, I want to learn what it means for love to be genuine. I want to flood my day to day life with Romans 12 behavior. And, so with an ounce of structure and a pound of reflection, I'm embracing this passage whole-heartedly.
Each week, I will have one command to follow for the week and I will seek to live out that aspect of genuine love. At the end of each week, and maybe at other times, I will blog about this journey, sharing what I've learned, what I've done and how I've failed.
Lord, humble me and teach me to be your servant. Show me the glory of serving others in your name. May I become less so that you become more. May I bless others as you have blessed me.
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