For all the intellectualism I like to think I bring to things, it is all really very simple. We have a choice. We can accept God's love and our limitations and stop beating ourselves for not being perfect. And then we can know peace and produce fruit--not as an extra effort, but as a result of what we've become.
Or, we can refuse forgiveness and keep blaming ourselves and others and focus on our hurts and flaws. And we will miss peace and we cannot produce fruit.
It gets all wrapped up in the details, when it's really all quite simple. In the quiet predawn when I wake and lie there so I don't have to get up quite yet, I know what is right. I know what I need to do so I can see and grab hold of that forgiveness. The rest is my own creation.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
On the Nature of Bullcrap
It has been said by people far more eloquent than I that politics is the residue of human interaction. I think that bullcrap is the residue of human interaction. More correctly, certain people or situations lend themselves to the production of immense amounts of bullcrap.
Bullcrap, at least in my definition, is the art of making difficult what ought to be easy. I've produced more than my share of bullcrap in 42 years, so I'm not holding myself up as bullcrap-free. But I understand the nature of bullcrap and I try not to produce it. And when I do produce it, I try to at least be humble about it.
Bullcrap is getting to me right now. These things go in phases, I know. It's like your bullcrap biorhythm. Mine is low right now. Other times, it seems, I possess a Moses-like gift to part the sea of bullcrap (often so I can blunder around the desert for an awfully long time).
But bullcrap, like anything else, is subject to one's own power. One can allow it to get under one's skin, then one needs immense amounts of first-aid cream to deal with the infection.
I guess the point is, the bullcrap tide seems to be in right now. One can either build a bulwarks, hold one's breath, or get up and move back on the beach far enough that the tide won't come that far.
Bullcrap, at least in my definition, is the art of making difficult what ought to be easy. I've produced more than my share of bullcrap in 42 years, so I'm not holding myself up as bullcrap-free. But I understand the nature of bullcrap and I try not to produce it. And when I do produce it, I try to at least be humble about it.
Bullcrap is getting to me right now. These things go in phases, I know. It's like your bullcrap biorhythm. Mine is low right now. Other times, it seems, I possess a Moses-like gift to part the sea of bullcrap (often so I can blunder around the desert for an awfully long time).
But bullcrap, like anything else, is subject to one's own power. One can allow it to get under one's skin, then one needs immense amounts of first-aid cream to deal with the infection.
I guess the point is, the bullcrap tide seems to be in right now. One can either build a bulwarks, hold one's breath, or get up and move back on the beach far enough that the tide won't come that far.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Stewards of our own lives
Steve Irwin died this morning. He was 44. A lot of people are really sad about his death, and that's reasonable. He has an eight-year-old daughter who will never get to have Daddy dance with her again, or admire her prom dress, or walk her down the aisle. His son is two. He won't remember his dad, except on the reruns. And his wife will have a wound in her heart that will never fully heal.
And yet, in this case more than most, there is so much to celebrate. I truly believe that when we die and stand before God, we will be held accountable, but in a different way than most people think. Lust, envy, all of that's going to be part of the equation. But the bigger part is going to be an accounting of what we did with the tools and experiences He gave us. Were we good stewards of the gift of our lives. In his life, Steve Irwin was given a great deal. He was given a zeal for animals and the situation in which to use that zeal to fill his life's purpose.
I have no idea what kind of person Steve Irwin was. But based on the public part, and based on the fact that his wife seemed to love him and stayed with him, I think when he's asked if he took advantage of the gift of his life and produced something of value with it, he can truthfully answer that he did.
We're given passions for a reason. It's not a sign of virtue to purposely turn away from what makes us feel most alive. It's a sign of foolishness. It's a sign that we lack the faith that God knew what He was doing when He gave us those passions. In short, we are wired the way we are for a reason.
And at the end, if we look back and see that we didn't get it all our lives, I don't think that God will have to punish us. I think the awareness that we were given this fantastic gift and pissed it away will be more punishment than God needs to dish out.
Our lives--our own lives--are precious. If the mass of men live lives of quiet desparation, they they're missing it, and they'll know regret like no other when they die.
And yet, in this case more than most, there is so much to celebrate. I truly believe that when we die and stand before God, we will be held accountable, but in a different way than most people think. Lust, envy, all of that's going to be part of the equation. But the bigger part is going to be an accounting of what we did with the tools and experiences He gave us. Were we good stewards of the gift of our lives. In his life, Steve Irwin was given a great deal. He was given a zeal for animals and the situation in which to use that zeal to fill his life's purpose.
I have no idea what kind of person Steve Irwin was. But based on the public part, and based on the fact that his wife seemed to love him and stayed with him, I think when he's asked if he took advantage of the gift of his life and produced something of value with it, he can truthfully answer that he did.
We're given passions for a reason. It's not a sign of virtue to purposely turn away from what makes us feel most alive. It's a sign of foolishness. It's a sign that we lack the faith that God knew what He was doing when He gave us those passions. In short, we are wired the way we are for a reason.
And at the end, if we look back and see that we didn't get it all our lives, I don't think that God will have to punish us. I think the awareness that we were given this fantastic gift and pissed it away will be more punishment than God needs to dish out.
Our lives--our own lives--are precious. If the mass of men live lives of quiet desparation, they they're missing it, and they'll know regret like no other when they die.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
This and That
- I posted with passion about fasting for peace, and immediately forgot to do so that past two Fridays. It may make me complacent, but such is life. I've been praying a lot for peace, but I'm not perfect.
- I may be ripping off a guy named Steve Brown, but I've decided that I'm not going to get any better. I am where I am and what I am. I will die that way. Maybe by not concentrating on getting better, I will do better at the things I want to change. Sometimes with God, less is more.
- I'm pretty good where I am. I'm not saying that if I died today, I wouldn't have any regrets, but if I died today, I think God would be more or less pleased with where I am.
- I read in The Purpose-Driven Life that mature Christian prayer should not be centered on what I want, but on molding me and others to what God wants. I'm not sure I agree with that, but it gives me sometime to consider in my prayer ratio.
- God loves me and that makes all the difference. It is also the source of incredible freedom when I am in tune with that central fact.
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