Manifesto

"This is great," a coworker joked while I was handing him some paperwork a few weeks ago.  "I've known you seven years and I've never seen your manifesto."

 

I smiled and continued on.  But the seed worked its way deep.  A manifesto?  Isn't that what serial felons mail to newspapers to explain their psychotic crime sprees?  An explanation of why they do what they do? 

 

Maybe everyone has a manifesto.  Some probably have an internal one  and might even be surprised if they were to write it down.   So why not?  It's boring, but here's mine:

 

If you had to boil life down to one concept...one word...the word would be "relationships."

 

This planet is only about relationships...our relationship with Jesus, our relationship with others, our relationships as individuals and our relationship in groups who relate to other individuals and groups.  That's the purpose of life.  If you have a better one, tell me now so I can tear this up and get it right.

 

In his unsearchable wisdom, God has provided for us uncountable numbers of relationships...good and bad... that we can observe and learn from.

 

God is perfect and has the relationship thing down pat.  As the one who invented them, it stands to reason that his relationships are perfect and would be worth looking at. 

 

Most relationships seem to be cyclical.  One member initiates and another responds, and so begins the cycle.

 

Look at the beautiful relationship in the oxygen cycle.  Animals breathe in oxygen, and breathe out carbon dioxide.  Plants take in the carbon dioxide and emit oxygen.  This relationship is a perfect cycle.

 

Look at the water cycle.  Water in the clouds falls to earth, allowing for fertile ground and rivers which transform the land.   The water is lifted back into the heavens and the cycle repeats perfectly (unless you're a farmer in South Dakota, where it's always too much or too little.)

 

We can see the extremely complex relationships in the human body, with the thousands and thousands of parts having needs, then having them met from other organs, and then providing for the good of the others.  (How anyone can look at this incredible and miraculous interrelationship of organs and conclude it was all per chance absolutely staggers me, but that's a topic for another time.)

 

I don't mean to wrongly over-simplify interpersonal relationships, but you can see a healthy pattern in many marriage relationships.  The husband shows sacrificial love to his wife.  His wife receives it and this allows her to respond with sacrificial respect to her husband, which frees him to love his wife more sacrificially and we can see how this relationship can be a perfect cycle of love and respect.

 

In a healthy relationship between a parent and infant, the parent initiates vital imparting of things like love, protection, nurturing and care.  This allows the child to respond with increasing trust, love and respect.

 

In these relationships we can see glimpses of our relationship with God, who will always relate to us perfectly because God loves each one of us perfectly.  His love for each one of us is deeper, and more secure, than any of us could begin to conceive.

 

Perfect relationships between people or between people and God have these in common:

 

1.  Appropriate giving and taking based on the strengths, gifts and weaknesses of the parties.

2.  The relationship is healthy to both parties.

3.  Both parties experience satisfaction in the relationship.

4.  The relationship is sustainable for the long term. (No one burns out.)

5.  The parties focus on the relationship over themselves. (This is obviously not the case in parent/child relationships, where the child has not matured enough to consider others.)

 

The most important part of life is growing relationships and the most important relationship is the one we have with God.  God has promised to do some things and therefore we can say this is God's Responsibility for His Relationship With Me

 

1.  He initiates the relationship.  I can respond or refuse.

2.  He loves, protects and guides me.  He loves me more than I love myself, and cares about the details of my life more than I care about them.

3.  He nurtures and nourishes me and produces acceptable spiritual fruit in me.

 

This of course requires my response.  Matthew 18:3 says "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the Kingdom of God."  My responsibilities in this relationship:

 

1.  Yield all control...like a little child...to my loving father.  (This struggle for control is a HUGE issue...maybe THE issue.  When I demand control, it turns out I lose control.  When I give him control, the ride becomes controlled.)

2.  His love allows me to respond with respect.

3.  Agree with him when I've done wrong

4.  The quicker the better.

 

Imagine one of those old New England water mills...where the river pours over the huge wheel, which turns and grinds the grain inside.  This is an excellent analogy of our relationship with God.

 

Our job is simply to be an open valve and allow the water to flow over the wheel.  This is simply our opening up to the Holy Spirit.  It's the water's (Spirit's) job to do the work, not mine.  As the Holy Spirit flows through us, you can expect these things to happen:

 

1.  We are transformed into his image as we see in Romans 12:2

2.  We will see the results of his work called "fruits of the spirit."

3.  Maturity

4.  Meaningful and abundant life

5.  Peace with God.

6.  Harmony with other believers

 

 

 

 

Weights and Skates

I completely get why non-Christians think Christians are bizarre. All the time we Christians talk about trusting in something/someone we can't see, hear, touch, smell (thank goodness) or taste. And yet we talk to each other like it's perfectly natural and normal. "Of course. Do it all the time."
 

Fact is, I don't do it very well. Fact is...I don't think many of us do it that well. Fact is, I doubt if any of us do it that well. Remember that video of the NY cop this past winter buying shoes for that homeless man? Why did it go viral? Because it was so stinkin' unusual. If all of us Christians lived like this, it wouldn't have gone viral. It would have been, (Yawn) "Oh it's another one of those Christians being massively sacrificial again. What-ever. What's on TV?"
 

I was listening to a podcast the other day and the preacher said something I'd heard before, but this time it clicked in different. It had to do with where people put their weight.
 

When I sit on a chair, I transfer my weight onto it because I trust it will hold me. When I drive across a bridge, I trust it will support my car. I judge if it will hold (not all chairs hold me anymore) and if my understanding tells me that it is more structurally sound than I am heavy, I trust it and I put weight on it. If I'm right, I don't fall.
 

CS Lewis calls us spiritual amphibians because we live partially in the spiritual world and partially in the physical world. Another way we can say that...is we're on skates (we'll make them ice skates for now)...one foot is in the "Jesus" skate and the other foot is in the "self" skate. And we skate through life adjusting our weight on these two skates.
 

You already know where I'm headed. I adjust my weight on my skates based on...my understanding of what will support me best. Remember that proverb that's sung to the calypso beat "Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on...your own understanding." Hell! (If anyone calls me on that, I'm sayin' I meant "hello" and mistyped it) I'm doing it ALL wrong!

 

 

So I'm using my judgment, and figuring out which skate I should lean on...where I'm putting my weight...based upon my brain's best understanding. There's a word for that: sin. Here's the bad news. If I had to guess how much I lean into the "self" skate, it's about 99%. Here's the good news. If God can coax me into leaning just another percent into the "Jesus" skate, that's a spiritual pay raise of 100%!
 

You can always tell which skate you're leaning on...if it gets kicked out from under you, right? If the "self" skate gets kicked out from under you, and you fall...then you had most of your weight on the "self" skate. If someone cuts you off in the car, insults you at work, makes fun of you at the gym (that never happens to me because I never go to the gym), and you fall over...you know you're leaning on the "self" skate. On the other hand if someone ridicules you or calls you a name and you're with the Spirit on the Jesus skate, you just keep skating and really don't even mind.
 

Interestingly enough, the Jesus skate never gets kicked out from under you though sometimes it "seems" that it does. Ironic, isn't it, that the invisible rock of Jesus offers more support for my skates (now we're on roller blades) than the most stable pavement the world offers. And yet...
 

There a word for for Christians who put most of their weight on the "self skate." Perfectly normal people. (Some of you noted that was actually 3 words, but this was one of those places where you needed to work with me.) It's completely normal to put weight on the self skate. It's natural. It's what we all do. And it's foolish because it gets kicked out all the time by really hard and difficult things.
 

And while Jesus says "Be perfect as my heavenly father is perfect," I don't see any way how I can lift my self-skate up and glide along on the Jesus skate even though sometimes I want to. I mean, I am not equipped to even get to 5%, much less 100%. So while I fail completely and miserably at this, my only option is the most amazing and fabulous one: I trust in Jesus to skate for me. And I am so thankful that his self-skate has never even once touched the ice...or pavement.
 

I don't expect to see a lot of improvement in my skating. I'll continue to pray and love him and be transparent so that he and I can have the deepest relationship possible for me. I find this keeps me from conforming to the world, and transforms my mind, to allow me to know his perfect will...and I think my skating will continue to improve a little.
 

This also give me compassion for people who are also struggling to lean into the Jesus skate even if they might not be able to lean there as much as my feeble efforts. We'll both fall short, but we can encourage each other and enjoy each others' company along the way.


 

Prodigal Son Part II

You've no doubt read the story of the prodigal son where the son gets his inheritance from his father (while dad's alive), and squanders it.  He returns home expecting to live as a servant, but his father fetches him a robe and gold ring, calls for a fatted calf to be butchered and celebrates his son's return.  Here's how I believe that story could have continued:


A few days after the prodigal son came home, he sneaks out of his father's house, runs down to the local pawn shop, pawns the robe and his new gold ring, takes the money and spends it on drugs and women. Once the money's gone (evidently it was a pretty nice robe and ring)...and the son (I'll call him Steve, you can call him Whoever You Want) wakes up hung-over in the streets, he realizes what a fool he's been and wanders back to his father's house, only to have it play out exactly as the first time...the father comes running out no less enthused than the first time, gives him a new robe, a new ring, has another fatted calf killed, and the father celebrates that his son is back.

 

A couple of weeks later, the same scenario plays out, the son sneaks out, sells his ring and robe, and shoots up, only to return home naked a few days later. And his father runs out to greet him, gets him a new robe, new ring, shouts for the fatted calf, and another celebration ensues.

 

The story repeats so that you'd think you're living Groundhog Day. The son keeps leaving, failing, and returning, gets new clothes and a celebration.

 

So one time after being accepted back home yet again, the son asks the father, "How many times will you take me back? When's your patience with me going to end?" And the father leads the son by the arm through his mansion to a long series of doors with names on them. He opens the one with my name on it and it's a walk-in closet. Inside is rack after rack after rack, all with hangers holding thousands and thousands of robes. All are my size.

 

On the wall is a huge dresser with dozens of large drawers. He opens a couple of drawers. They are filled with gold rings. My size.

 

He leads me to a window where I look out over his ranch and I see a part of his herd of livestock. He says, "Look at me. Why do you think I own the cattle on a thousand hills?" 
 

"You ask how many times I'll take you back. Here's my answer: How many do you need?"



 

Daddy, I Broke It

It went high and outside.  I watched the tennis ball which I'd aimed at the front steps veer terribly off course and head for the one place it was not supposed to go...an 80 year old leaded glass window.  It hit the window.  Of course.  It broke the window.  Of course.

What makes it more fun is that the previous week my dad told me...clearly...to NOT throw the tennis ball at the front steps, as an errant throw could hit and break the leaded glass window.  In my 14-year old mind, I knew my control and mastery over that ball and there was no way I'd allow that to happen.  And there I stood looking at a broken window. 

Where does your brain go in that situation?  Repentance?  Anger?  Despair?  Well, my  teenage mind clicked immediately into damage control mode.  I quickly reasoned that no outcome would end well for me.  (This is my public school-trained brain at work).  Immediately I considered my options to select the least painful.

If I could just fix it...even half-way... maybe no one would notice?   No, I didn't take Mastering Antique Window Repair in shop class.  Running away from home seemed like a bad long-term idea and was quickly discarded.   Apparently no one inside heard the window break, so I could try ignoring it and play stupid (which, by the way, is one of my spiritual gifts).  But with no other suspects, I'd be convicted on the circumstantial evidence, and sentenced to extra time for the cover-up.  Alas, my weekly allowance did not allow for hiring a high-profile lawyer to provide a vigorous legal (by reason of insanity?) defense.

It occurred to me my best option was to suck it up and self-report before anyone else noticed.   Understand that had I any other option beside self-confession, I'd have taken it.  It wasn't like I was looking for the holiest choice, but the least painful choice.  It's just that honesty with my dad seemed to be my best long-term option. 

After a deep breath, I ran inside the house, found my dad and confessed I had done the very thing he had told me not to do.  And I broke the thing he'd asked me not to break.  And I apologized for not obeying him.

He was so stunned at my forthrightness that he just looked at me and told me not to do it again and that was that.  Our home was a government-owned house, so the next day he picked up the phone and called the maintenance staff which sent out a fellow who fixed it.  (If you're a US taxpayer, that was on you.  Thanks for your support.)

Who knew that a broken window 40 years ago could transform my life today?  I find myself repeating those same words over and over to my heavenly father:  "Daddy, I broke it."  And his response is always the same to me..."Come here, sit on my lap.  I'll fix it."

You ever broke a toy and took it to an adult who said, "It's OK, sit here on my lap and I'll fix it."  That's the voice of God.  That's what he does.  

Jesus told me to be perfect as his heavenly father is perfect.  That's the standard.   And I am not displaying false humility...I am being as honest as the day is long when I say that I am completely on the opposite side of the spectrum.  

I was born selfish.  As a child, I practiced the art of selfishness through much trial and error.  As a teenager, I refined it.  As an adult, I perfected it.  My thoughts are selfish.  My motivations are selfish.  Writing this blog is probably selfish.  Using Jesus as the standard, I am so selfish, I can't even tell when I'm not being selfish.  Honestly, if the high bar of perfection is set at ten feet, I can't even clear a quarter-inch.

I'm sorry to use a graphic illustration here, but I believe it to be 100% accurate.  Imagine you're a high jumper and you've been told that you need to leap over the ten foot high bar, or you'll face eternal death.  Oh, one more important item.  Every bone in your body is severely broken.

Leap the bar?  You can't even crawl to the bar.  That's the impossible situation we're in.

Thank God I don't have to clear the bar.  Thank God, I can rely on Jesus who has cleared it for me.

So my desire is rightfully turned away from trying to fulfill an impossible task, and instead turned to a relationship with Jesus who cleared it for me.  But my selfish heart wanders back to that bar.

Bar leaping is simply law keeping.  The allure of the law is that I think it allows me save myself and justify myself.  And even if I could keep the Ten Commandments as written (I can't),  I'd still fail because as Jesus pointed out, they demand not only perfect physical compliance, but perfect spiritual motivation.  I'm at Game Over before I can even press Start.

So, what in hell am I doing trying to justify myself through works?  (I mean that literally.)

Oh, and there's more bad news.  Not only are we selfish and prone to wandering the wrong ways, we are also set up to completely fail.  There's a world out there looking to entice us away from God.  (If you don't believe me, pick up any newspaper).  And there's a sneaky, lying bunch of demons who know our weaknesses and are using those to lure us away from God.

Our flesh and the world and the enemies of God all offer us a tempting path called "sin."  Sin is simply a way of doing something that God would disagree with.  Not because God is a killjoy, but because sin is harmful to us.  Like any good parent, God is looking out for my best interest.   

Yet I'm still lured in sin's direction because it promises freedom.  It promises life, excitement and a thrill.  Today it's badass.  Tomorrow, it's B.A.D.A.S.S.   Though it promises much, sin always delivers Bondage And Death And Suffering Sorrow.

Though my mind knows this, that alone won't stop me from chasing sin.  Isn't that weird?  I know before I start that it's both harmful for me and for others and I do it anyway because I'm too selfish to care. I don't need awareness of sin.  I have that and that doesn't help.  I need someone to pull me away and free me from it.  

I need someone who sees through my facade and into my core...who can detect when I'm wavering or when I've already run away...who can shake me and break through my wall of selfishness and point me to help.  And I need...after I've disobeyed and broken the window...someone to run to...who'll tell me, "It's OK.  Sit here on my lap.  I'll fix it."

I have that now.  I have the spirit of God tapping me on the shoulder many times daily, telling me I'm wandered off course and something's broken.  And I turn, and there's my heavenly father reaching down for me.  And he's not angry.  He's serene.  He's smiling.  He understands my situation better than I do.  He knows I was born rebellious and waits for me to agree with him about my shortcomings and turn his way because he loves me and wants a real and intimate relationship with me.  He's looking for closeness as the best father would want with his child.

And again it's decision time.  Like the boy who just broke the window, I consider my options. Run away?  Ignore it?  Justify it?  Try to fix it (as if I could)?  Not this time.

I look into God's eyes and say the same thing that that I've told him a hundred times this last week.  Something so completely obvious, it doesn't need to be said.  But it must be said, because even though he doesn't need to hear it, I do.  "Daddy, I broke it."  And he sweeps me up in his arms and looks it over. And in my heart I hear it again.  

"It's OK.  You just sit here on my lap.  I'll fix it."

 

 

 

 

And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.