Month: September 2010

Do Not Fear

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In each of us the instinct to run and hide is wired. It comes from a combination of things – how we are broken and living in a broken world reminds us that there are things to fear (though something within us tells us this is not the way things were meant to be); our own capacity for evil teaches us that others have that same capacity and it makes of wary and defensive, like antelope on the savannah we are ready to run at the slightest noise; our life experience also teach us that the world is a dangerous place and we lose trust in it and everything and everyone in it.
 
Sometimes though our instinct to hide is not about protecting ourselves but rather protecting others from ourselves. Take for instance the following verses from the gospel of Luke 5:1-8:
 
"While the crowd was pressing in on Jesus and listening to the word of God, he was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret. He saw two boats there alongside the lake; the fishermen had disembarked and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, he asked him to put out a short distance from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. After he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch." Simon said in reply, "Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing, but at your command I will lower the nets." When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish and their nets were tearing. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come to help them. They came and filled both boats so that they were in danger of sinking. When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at the knees of Jesus and said, "Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man."
 
I find it fitting that my namesake would seek to hide from Christ. Peter is not afraid of being hurt, Peter wants to hide because he knows the depth of his depravity and the one whom he speaks to. He feels radically unworthy to be anywhere near Jesus. Sometimes, like Peter, we hide from light. Sometimes we scurry like cockroaches when the light is turned on seeking the safety and anonymity of darkness. It is understandable, especially when we are confronted by people we love or care about and we are seeking to protect them from ourselves. With God however there is no dark place dark enough to hide. There is no filth within us that he has not seen and is not in some way intimately acquainted with. He knows us better than we know ourselves and his response to Peter’s attempts to hide from him and drive him away are the same to us:
 
"Do not be afraid," says Jesus in Luke 5:10. Then he bids the one who knows his sin and his unworthiness to leave everything behind and follow him. The one who knows the corrupt heart of Peter. The one who knows this man whom he loves will deny him three times and leave him alone on the cross. This one says "Do not be afraid but come, leave everything and follow me".
 
I am selfish. I am broken. I am hateful. I am ashamed. I am a liar and a deceiver. I think the worst of other people and myself. All I want to do is hide and stay away from people and in this state Christ came to me this morning at church (as he has through family and friends) and reminded me of the importance of fellowship among believers, of koinonia. In their many and various ways they spoke to me and said "do not be afraid".
 
But it is easy to run and hide. The words are powerful and healing but I am still who I was. I am still in the midst of my own brokeness and yet he calls anyway. I still want to hide. I still want to run. Still he persists and says "do not fear".

Shades of Gray

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In the centre of crisis people do many things – some people eat, some people cry, some people fast, some people take drugs, some people drink, some people pray, some people sing, some people exercise, some people die…me – I write. I need to write to stay sane. I have never claimed to be a good writer just as nobody I know claims to be a good breather. I just write. They just breathe. It is necessary for me and my survival.
 
Everything is shades of gray…at least from the human perspective. The search for absolutes leads only to Christ, the only real human who ever walked the earth and God as well…as for us…we all see only grayscale rainbows. Those who think they can divide life up into blacks and whites and simple moral equations are dreaming but one cannot blame them because dreams can be pleasant and escapist for a while until the world breaks in and one wakes up.
 
So in the midst of every hurricane comes the eye…that calm place where you can look up and see blue sky and forget for a moment that everything in your world was just blasted to the south. Then in too few minutes the eye passes and you can stand and watch everything you own get blasted past you to the north this time and wonder at the mobility of it all.
 
Nothing is simple. No life is pure grief. No life is pure joy. In the cyclone I can look online and see that I am now ranked 43 out of 10,000 reviewers on Amazon.ca and smile for a moment. It is, as the author of Ecclesiastes says, meaningless but then meaningless things make me smile for some reason. Maybe because meaning can become burdensome after a while.
 
While I was away at the abbey the books for review piled up big time. Now on my desk I am looking at the following pile to be read:
 
– Discerning Truth: Exposing Errors in Evolutionary Arguments by Dr. Jason Lisle (which will go to AK when I am done)
– Psalms: A Study Guide from Navpress
– Seeds of Turmoil: The Biblical Roots of the Inevitable Crisis in the Middle East by Bryant Wright
– Revelation: Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible by the unfortunately named Joseph L. Mangina
– The Rage Against God by Peter Hitchens
– No Girls Allowed: A Boys Devotional
– YHWH: The Flood the Fish and the Giant, Ancient Mysteries Retold by G.P. Taylor and Paula K. Parker
 
Lots to read. Lots to learn. Even without reading I have lots to learn.
 
Around my neck I now wear a big, heavy, Saint Benedict crucifix alongside my silver cross. I bought it in memory of my stay amongst the monks and it’s weight reminds me of things. I had it blessed by the abbot. I have heretical thoughts about it at night before I go to sleep. I imagine that while I am sleeping the figure of Christ climbs off the cross and wanders my room looking for escape. It really is ridiculous.
 
Someone once asked me why I wear a cross under my shirt. I told them when I get up in the morning and go to the washroom it is the first thing I see at the start of my day. The empty cross reminds me of the resurrection and the future of creation and who I am and belong to. They told me they did not need such things to remind them of their faith. It seemed to me unecessary to say so in the same way it would be unecessary to tell someone that you didn’t need a picture of your once living Dad to remind you of them.
 
Now I have a crucifix. I have friends that fear I have gone "Catholic" (as if that is a bad thing…as if somehow it would have been better to become a witch). I have not gone anything mind you. I appreciate symbols. I don’t worship them (nor do my Catholic friends). Symbols have always been critical to our faith. Moses lifted a serpent on a rod in the desert and any Israelite bitten by a snake would simply have to look at it and be healed. Was it a magical item? No, it was a symbol of the healing power of God and his promise to take care of Israel. The crucifix reminds me of the sacrifice. The cost of the grace of God which, while freely given, was incredibly costly. As Bonhoeffer has said it cost God his son. As the apostle Paul reminds us "you were bought for a price". It was neither easy nor cheap.
 
So now I have both around my neck, cross and crucifix (and perhaps an invisible albatross as well). They are the spectrum of death and resurrection and they give me hope when things die in my life. Hope that perhaps there is resurrection for me and mine as well somewhere and healing from the one who became a curse for us (for me) was lifted up on a tree as the serpent was lifted in the desert for the healing of Israel.
 
Healing is an interesting thing. Why did Christ choose to heal the leper but not the pharisee? If the pharisee was the white-washed tomb the leper was surely the opposite. One whose filth was worn on the outside camoflauging a soul seeking the Lord himself. There have been many times I have played the pharisee although to be frank I am not fond of them. I would rather be the leper with his sickness in the open for all to see. The irony of course is that the pharisee draws people to him because of his apparent holiness while the leper drives people away because of his apparent sickness (which was felt to be a result of sin, if not his then someone close to him and enough of a reason to stay away from him).
 
In reality I suppose I am a blend of pharisee and leper and am in need of cleansing inside and out.
 

 

Repudium Remittere Alicui

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This is no surgery
no sharp sterilized blade
to do the cutting
no dream inducing anesthetic
to dull the pain
no quiet recovery room
to softly awaken in

this is the ferocious feast
of jagged-toothed brokenness
a brazen ever-present beast
ravaging by the roadside
to the tear-streaked cold cries
"LET IT END!"
dumb raging sin seeks
the infected guts of it all
picking over entrails to read the future
declaring “woe upon woe upon woe”
till we are left – once one,
now tragic torn in two
corpses hung at crossroads
to confound eternal hope

still – as twilight falls then night
so sunrise comes at the dawn
dispelling winter with warm breath
while the resurrected God brings healing
in tears of father forgiveness
and each shall rise by sinewed spirit
one called west, one called east
to part as children of hope-filled him
who separates as far as the distance
between the two

A Day Now Dead

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Hear the midnight bell’s plaintive ring
twelve, twelve, twelve, twelve they say
listen to them in the shadowed darkness sing
“TAKE HEED AND KNOW THE DAY IS DEAD!”
mourn the endless empty loss of the present now past
buried in the gray unvisited tomb of yesterday
ravaged by abusive hours breathed final words,
                                                                 “at last…”

Matthew 5:29

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Lust sits upon the brow of men
a filthy crown, unholy diadem
that twists the mind and head around
to fill with dark till black abound
what solution to this grave ill
cut off hand, gouge out eyes until
we are but blind, helpless and sin shod
or,
perhaps –
fall into the waiting hand of God?

Bells Break Cadenced

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Bells break cadenced upon the plain
to mark the elusive quarter hour
they penetrate red brick tower
rise above the horn of passing train
my life is but bells upon the wind
a measure of never-ending minutes
a sound that soars far beyond my limits
lost in the eternal refrain – “I have sinned”

bells chime loud through sunlit air
they call me out to light, to prayer.

Beautiful Mary

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Beautiful Mary shines
like bronze in the midday sun
cloistered in the empty courtyard
hands outstretched to bless
with no one to receive
she is alone

Nothing

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The Desert: Prologue

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In three day i leave for the desert. The desert in this case will be the empty grasslands and rolling hills around Assumption Abbey in Richardton, North Dakota. This morning was a celebration of the Lord’s Supper at church and I came away conflicted as usual. To seek God with of all my heart but not be willing to give him all of my heart is a strange and empty place to be. More than ever I desire to meet him while away…and more than ever I fear it.
 
Three weeks in the desert could yield only a stark awareness of my own emptiness and poverty of soul. Some might argue that this would not necessarily be a bad thing for an arrogant guy like me. They may have a point. I haven’t a clue what I will or won’t learn. I know I am hard as stone but filled with fault lines too which means the possibilities are endless.
 
Three weeks. Three is an important biblical number. Will it be a desert? Will it be a wilderness? You know in my whole life I have never been intentionally alone with God for such a time. Circumstance wired me as an introvert but nature prefers me as an extrovert…how will I manage for all of the time I am there? I will bring several bibles, my laptop for writing only (there is no internet access there which is good). I struggle with the thought of leaving my iPod behind because of the music but I already know I will. I will bring my camera. Maybe my MP3 recorder for thoughts on the walks.
 
The plan is to study Matthew 5-7, the sermon on the mount. I will divide the verses across the 21 days and seek to allow those verses to guide me. The abbott has graciously offered to provide direction while I am there as well. I will write each day and try to be as honest as possible.
 
At the end of the day all I seek is to drag my broken self out into the open and pray that Christ would walk past that I might reach out and touch the hem of his garments. He may even stop. He may even choose to offer healing. I really don’t know. What if he asks me to follow him and I respond like the rich young man? Will it be enough to know that he will look after me with love even as my back turns? There is so much to give up. My very life even. What if I cannot do it? Har far does grace extend before it breaks?

Sun & Moon

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Sun chases moon
round the world
round the world
gold and silver run
catch a glimpse
Athena on the twilight rise
Apollo setting softly cries
both prey to the other
a tortured torment
bringing light to the world
washing coastlines wet
in the tender tear-filled tide
bright filled with fragrant foam
like memories riding the waves
forever