Devoured

"For all the Law is fulfilled in one word, even in this "You shall love you neighbor as yourself." But if you bite and devour one another, beware lest you be consumed by one another."
Galatians 5:14-15

For anyone who has witnessed the multifaceted spiritual, emotional, and mental transformations I've experienced over the last few years, this is my confession, and my apology. Years ago, I had a desire to serve, to heal, and to help others. My life was warped around my own ego, and a desire for an acceptable image that could not be rejected or disliked. Being a "likable guy" was my main concern, and it was rooted in my own pride, with no other motive. I must admit, I excelled at it; I amassed a laundry list of "friends" all over school, home, and my workplaces. This is where most, if not all of you have found place in my life, whether for a short season, or the long haul.

The growing concern for me over the last year has been a reputation I have garnered at work, among certain friends, and perhaps even in my family. I am fully aware of the fact that I have become known for a sharp whit, sarcasm, and cutting words. In my times, I have justified this ill treatment of friends, family, and anyone so unfortunately within reach because of my own pain and spiritual struggle. As a practicing cynic, I found myself rationalizing everything by the climate of my surroundings; egged on by a pride so strong it caused me to be unwilling to admit, nor recognize my own degeneration. With this improper perception of myself, and more importantly an improper perception of God, there was no way I could have seen the damage being caused to those around me, but also to myself.

Ironically enough, damaging oneself through the slow and methodical disintegration of his own life has a way of breaking foolish pride. Some might call it an experience of self-revelation, others would call it rock bottom; whatever you call it, it's humbling. Humility, much like pride, has a canibalistic quality of feeding on its own kind. Pride feeds itself through pride, while humility feeds itself through humility. As I'm walking this path of humility, I know there are certain boundaries which will be a challenge to break through, most specifically a reputation in which I found great pride. This reputation is the very thing this confession is intended to destroy.

The widely encompassing command to love your neighbor as yourself has a few simple predications. First, to love. I won't get into the delicate intricacies of this one, just suffice it to say, we know love when we see it, and we know what a lack of love looks like as well. Second, Jesus made it pretty clear with the parable of the good samaritan that a neighbor is not just a brother, a friend, or an acquaintance, but all of our fellow man, regardless of color, creed, nationality, or worldview. Finally, the degree of which we ought to love our neighbor is in direct proportion to the amount in which we love our self. As my father would say "there's the rub." Aside from an active disdain for some, I've certainly been most guilty of loving myself and considering myself far more than that of my neighbor. Even when my actions of goodwill and sacrifice are for nothing more than to gain favor of my neighbor, they are selfish acts of benevolence. How's that for an oxymoron? Selfish benevolence.

So, as the world has turned cold to each other, I am humbly admitting that I am guilty of hating my neighbor. I have loved myself in far greater proportion than I have loved my neighbor. In the same breath, I have praised God, and cursed my brother. In witty candor, I have badmouthed leaders, With no remorse, I have participated in the very system of deceit, manipulation, and self-service I condemned; until now. Even now as I write this, I feel a conditioned compulsion to rationalize the severity of my condition. "I'm not as bad as..." "At least I didn't..." "Well, I could have..." I will not justify. I am guilty. I have been a part of the problem.

So for those whom I have bitten, I am sorry. For those whom I've hurt, I apologize. To the God whose love I have falsely represented, I am exposed. See, what I've come to realize, is that loving your neighbor as yourself is not only a practical command to live with each other peaceably, but an essential part of our own liberation from the sin that separates us from God. In times of life in which I have walked closely with God, the spiritual gifts which he has given me have flourished. In recent years, any formerly known spiritual gifts have been diminished by the unrepentant presence of sin, and a great divide has arisen. Thankfully, because of the Love of God, and the demonstration of it through Christ, I have come to see my right place. With bended knee, and humble countenance, I submit myself to the guidance of the spirit of God, the Lordship of Christ, and the plan of God.

Intellectually, philosophically, and politically, we can't change the world. Intellect and philosophy are limited by idealist banter, which encompasses only the written or spoken word. Politically, you can tax whom you care to tax, and give to whom you choose to give, but there is nothing of love to be spoken of by the taxed for the one to whom his tax is used to support. Love is a verb; an idea with a form of action behind it. The world cannot replicate the life changing power of Christ, nor the power and authority of God by man made means. No system of thought, political agenda, or persuasive speeches from dynamic personalities will cause a man to love his neighbor as himself. It is only in the scandalous message of a savior on a cross to take upon himself the sin which separates man from his loving creator that can transform the heart of a man. Hatred and war will not win the day, only love will do that.

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
Romans 5:8

Into the Now

Life sometimes feels like standing in the ocean on a day the waves are crashing in. One minute you're standing in waist deep water, the next you're pummeled by a wave and in over your head without even the slightest move. Panic drives deep in the soul of a man overwhelmed by a world that shows no mercy. There is no consequence quite so difficult as the natural outworking of an attempt to do the right thing the wrong way. Nor perhaps so dire the consequences of trying to do the wrong thing in such a way as to appear to be the right. It seems like that place in the waves where you're pushed to shore by those incoming, yet sucked out to sea by the same rush moving back out in the undertow. It's the place you don't want to lose your balance, because the recovery can seem like a hopeless endeavor.

It seems as though the past is crushing me against the shore, while the future sucks me further into the cycle of defeat and misery I'm already so familiar with. If it were easy to get out of the cycles of life, I guess they wouldn't be cycles in the first place. The most troubling part of the whole scenario is the fact that in this place, it is hard to decide whether I desire the safety of the shore, or the adventure of the deep. In either case, I know I find some shelter from the power of the waters smashing me against an already familiar shore. Ironically, no matter how far into the deep I actually make it, life seems to always have this familiar dynamic of a past tempting me to return to its "ease," along with a future alluring me to its "promise;" having the superfluous effect of a perceived stagnation. So here I am, fighting for a future, which every inch I get closer to, puts me not a single inch further away from my past; the memories of which seem no further away than the last time they tried to push me back to their safety.

In the rearview mirror, I see only the latest obstacle to have come up, yet the memories of miles traveled tell me it's all been a winding and challenging journey. The past was never safe, and its challenges were never easy. So why does going back seem like such an escape? What is so comfortable about a shore I never sat safely upon? Haven't I always been stuck in this toil between past and future we call the present? And looking to the future, a future I'll probably always be chasing until the day I breathe my last, am I simply reaching for an adventure I'll never touch? Silly I even have to ask, as the next wave of future comes along to knock me back to the past I've just found the strength to give up pining for. So it goes, over and over and over again, knocked between remembering an undesirable past, and an unknown and perhaps undesirable future.

So I guess like Solomon, I can't help but cry "meaningless, it's all meaningless, like a chasing after the wind." Or perhaps I could say life is just the diachronic expression "a time to be born, a time to die." Maybe the shore is only that unfamiliar state preexistent, and the future is whatever comes when the past and future give up on knocking me around, and all that remains is a right now that isn't even a right now because there was no before or after, but just an......is. So maybe the moment I'm done toiling for the future is the moment the present ceases to exist. Or maybe the point at which I reach the peaceful future is no desirable point at all.....what is there to be gained in the deep? And what to be lost?

So what am I fighting for if not for the future or the past? Perhaps the toil is not to move to one or the other, but simply to stay in the waves. Perhaps the past must not be feigned, and the future is never meant to be reached. Perhaps the joy and simplicity of the ride must be accepted, if not desired. Perhaps today really does have enough worries of its own. Funny how no matter how hard I try, I can't make the next moment come any faster. Yet, the harder I try, I know I can make this moment more enjoyable for my efforts. Maybe a leap of faith isn't about the future at all, but just jumping into and with the wave of what comes next, right now. I guess what I'm seeing is that the adventure isn't for the future, but in moving with the present, and recognizing the adventure of this moment.

I will make the most of this moment, for this moment is all I have. I will cherish and make the most of today. Well, I'll try, these waters are pretty rough.

Always in my Heart

I kept a journal during my recent trip to Rio Branco, Brazil. The following are excerpts from that journal.

August 10, 2009. Noonish; Location: Somewhere over the jungle on a plane from Sao Paulo to Brasilia/Rio Branco.

"I was lucky enough to get a window seat on this stretch, and find myself mesmerized by the landscape. This country is so incredible. I must admit, I somewhat expected an 'Indiana Jones-esque' jungle everywhere- unfortunately I was wrong- it is only ALMOST everywhere. So beautiful from this altitude!

Ironically, as I see this beautiful sight, my heart and mind are with the men and women who serve in my country's military overseas. I feel a bit jealous of them and the sacrifices the get to make for the rest of us. What an honor it is to serve one's country in such a way.

In some ways I feel as though it is the same honor I feel to give up this week in service to God's Kingdom. Indeed, sacrifice is not a burden, but a badge of honor! What a privilege to spend an entire week completely laced with meaning and eternal purpose. This fact will haunt me when I am home, as it has so many times before. It is so hard to live everyday with meaning, so hard to stay focused on purpose in the midst of routine, but I get the feeling that finding the way to do that is truly the secret to happiness."

August 11, 2009 6:30pm; Location: Hotel room in Rio Branco, following a day of hard work, and powerful ministry.

"Imagine a world where time is NOT of the essence; where it is no waste to sit for hours on end in aimless interaction. Some perhaps imagine a nightmare, I imagine a dream come true. I love this place! From the shouting of children playing to the laughter in a look stemming from a puzzled mind trying to comprehend words. I swear few things have ever brought me joy like that! I miss community. Scratch that, I never knew community- not like this.

I love simplicity; a carefree spirit, the freedom to be content. America can't offer THAT freedom; there is no room for contentment in the land of opportunity. The more I think the more I begin to realize that contentment and community are linked somehow. I'm going to look into that.
.I truly believe that some of these kids will always remember the time they spent with the "loco Americano," God knows in my heart, I will always remember them. I could never forget their smiles, their laughter, their innocence. They are not the same as kids in the states- they're happier. Why is it that we have to pursue happiness, and these people just have it?"

August 14, 2009 2:30pm; Location: Somewhere between Rio Branco and Brasilia.

"Last night (dedication ceremony) was incredible! When we arrived at the church, they were still trying to finish the wiring for the lights......kind of tough since it was already basically dark. As some of our team lit candles in the windows, and out front, I was just admiring the beauty of the moment. The power of a church is not in the lights or the speakers; it's not in the performance of the band, or the showmanship of the preacher. The power in a church is in the simplicity of an embrace by a stranger who genuinely loves you and cares for you. It's in the greatness of serving; playing with children, teaching them the power of the love of Christ- with your life first, then with your words. The power of the gospel is found or lost in what you, the hands and feet of Christ, choose to do.
Last night my heart broke with agony that I have never felt. Indeed, a part of my heart will stay with my friends in Rio Branco until I see them again in the future, or until we are together in eternity.
I plan to see my friends again someday- and if it is not until eternity, I plan to show up with many more! God just guide my path and light my steps!"