Thoughts on Why I am the Worst Evangelical Ever

Preface: As I have mentioned in a previous post, I find myself in a part of the Church that is often referred to as Charismatic, Neo-Pentecostal or Third Wave. Basically these are all terms for the same thing. Typically we are marked as Evangelicals who harp on an experience known as the Baptism of the Holy Spirit which is often accompanied by some sort of manifested spiritual gift, such as tongues or the prophetic, that a lot of the Church purposes to believe, but do not frequently experience. This is kind of important in understanding the context and language of this post.



This is basically my new car. Kind of fun.

So, I found myself this week in an interesting situation. I met a dude while buying a car (oh yeah…I own a Mazda now, not a Nissan truck). A couple of days later, out of nowhere I got a prophetic word for the dude. (See…context and language!) Since I once lived with the guy I bought the car from, I told him, but felt specifically I should ask if this other dude was a Christian. Turns out he was an agnostic. This put the whole scenario on hold for some reason…probably so God could do some business with me.
So, I stopped, and was thinking, “Maybe this is just a prayer scenario.” But then my friend said I should just share with him and he would explain to him what was going on. For some reason this seemed like a good idea. However, in the midst of things, I felt like God was saying, “Don’t share the Gospel with him. Just give him the encouragement.”

Now. I would think at this point we have about three divergent points of view:

View #1 – You lost me at prophetic. What the hell are you on about?

View #2 – Why would you not share the Gospel? You’re a heretic, and did you notice you just used the word “hell” in view #1? You should only use that word when sharing the Gospel.

View #3 – Totally makes sense. He is after all in Mississippi and heard the Gospel 147-million times…this week.

Now, being past the situation, I am pointedly in camp #3, but in the midst of the situation I was closer to camp #2. You see, I grew up a good Southern Baptist. Sharing the Gospel, preaching on street corners, doing missions…these are the things you do. It is part and parcel to being a good Evangelical. So, I wrestled with it.

Now, my inner-Evangelical is still freaking out, and here is (I think) why: what I did seems mighty close to universalism. It seems close to saying, this dude is okay without reminding him that Jesus is the way, the truth and the life, and none come to the Father except through him (John 14:6). That was troublesome to me. But, what I felt was this—I was actually learning to trust in the sovereignty of God. I was learning to say that God is God and I am not. I was reminded of this Scripture: What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building. – 1 Corinthians 3:5-9.

But ultimately, since I feel, for me personally this is a season related to learning obedience, I made it a point to not share the Gospel, and even told the dude, “First off…I am not trying to convert you.” I went on to share the word. He was surprised, but encouraged. And I left it at that…and am leaving it at that unless something else changes.

What I felt in this situation, is I was called to a specific purpose. I needed to trust that God knows the way of this dude’s heart…and I don’t. I don’t know why God wanted me to speak this particular word. I don’t know why God didn’t want me to share the Gospel. I do know that in this situation it was what felt like obedience. But it also created a tension that I have to deal with. And I would say we all have to deal with.

It reminds of this: evangelism is good…with certain caveats. I don’t think I will ever be a street corner preacher. I would suck at that. And if I try to function in that, without the blessing of God, I will probably do more harm than good. I believe God has called me to use my gifts and that applies to evangelism. The problem is, until this encounter I had never seen the intersection of something like the prophetic with evangelism. They were two distinct entities. I think this is the result of one too many spiritual gifts assessments. I “know” what my gifts are. However I have let that knowledge keep me from learning how they are a part of all things faith.

I'd be the worst street corner preacher ever. And that billboard is perhaps

the greatest photobomb in the existence of the interwebs.

Just because I am a guitar-picking, hospitable prophet (tongue in cheek…please know I would never call myself a prophet!!!) doesn’t mean I’m not called to evangelize. I think we all know this. But I lived in such a way that I removed myself from that part of faith.

But more than gifts, this is about our common faith (since, if you are reading this, you probably have some sort of Christian faith background, if not, you are welcome for fresh ammunition in your arguments that we neo-pentecostals are crazy). As an evangelical one thing I am supposedly about is evangelism. However, I have not been the most active evangelizer. I make known my faith, but I’m not a preacher. And I think because of problems with techniques, I have shied away from this entire side of our faith. Meaning, I’m obviously not an evangelist, because I hate cold-call, street corner Bible-thumping.

But this encounter reminded me of something. God has uniquely crafted each of us, and called each of us to the manifold Kingdom of God. My responsibility is to learn obedience to my part. This time I was called to something akin to evangelism, but I was only called to a specific part. I view it is planting a seed. I will probably never reap the harvest with this guy, but I trust that the harvest will be reaped. I trust God’s sovereign plan, however that looks, will be accomplished in his life. And that is all I need to do. I don’t need to weigh myself down with excess baggage and guilt for not laying out Romans road, or whatever your congregation uses.

And I think that is how I understand that I have not resigned myself to universalism. What I have done is determined, “God is sovereign. I can trust that my response to Him is enough. And I will be responsive to Him throughout the process with this guy or any other person.” Even if that makes me look like I’m a terrible Evangelical.

Thoughts on Mixed Messages

First, I need to give a shout out to my friend Mark Anthony Chase for the assist on this post. I think reading his Facebook post on the contradictory nature of the Bible probably planted the seed for this post. It also, gives me a chance to plug one of my favorite TV shows of all times Pushing Daisies. Why? Because every time I think of Chase, I think of a line from that show that said, “Mark Chase was no stranger to murder.” It’s hysterical really, because TV Mark Chase, and my real life friend Mark Chase are nothing alike, but I now always think “Mark Chase was no stranger to murder” when I read his posts about the Giants, basketball and his love for Aaron Cho.



I love Pushing Daisies. So pretty.

Also, an assist goes out to the boys of our Thursday morning Panera men’s group. This morning we were talking about fear and Psalm 56. It was a good convo and kind of was the water to the thoughts presented here. So, without further ado: thoughts on the mixed messages I received growing up with religion always around me in American culture.

So first things first a quick list of values espoused by Church and American cultures (at least the forms I grew up with)

Church                                                  America

Humility                                                 Pride

Generosity                                              Consumption

Community                                            Solidarity

Faith                                                       Reason

Belief                                                     Skepticism

Okay, admittedly things look like I am quite down on America, and a lot of older Americans will probably challenge my thoughts on American values. I’m down with that. I understand. But, I am talking about the America I observed growing up. The America that said, pull yourself by your bootstraps, you will never make anything of yourself riding on someone else’s coattails. You are the only solution; don’t depend on anyone to help you. There are no handouts, there is no free lunch. Take all you can; you never know when it’s going to run out. I think when I talk in the clichés that we use, you can see why my list is as it is for America.

My involvement in Lion's Club once led me to wearing this suit.

And for a lot of “good church folk” the response has been to bring those beliefs into their daily life while giving mouthplay to ideas of faith and humility. It’s like the business owner who in church says that “You know God has really blessed me,” and in Lion’s Club, “I’ve been busting my hind end to make this work.” Now, while both statements are true, this type of thing leads to duplicitous living. (Yes, dudes of small group if you read this, duplicity must be my word of the day!) In other words, we use the statement that advances our cause in the moment. So, in church I use one language and present a different face than in my other social organizations.

Is this a condemnation of that sort of living? Sure, but not a harsh one. I understand the realities of church and world relationships. The reason you join Lion’s Club (I still proudly own my purple and yellow!) or Rotary is to establish good professional relationships. If the nature of your organization is not expressly religious, you watch your tone. It’s plain good business (Scripture: shrewd as serpents, innocent as doves).The reason you join a church could be the same reason, but I hope it wouldn’t be. I hope the reason you join a spiritual community is actually, you know, to take of your soul/spirit (but we won’t delve deeper here!).

And the deal is these ideas merge and become married so to speak. I think the very nature of most “American Christians” is quite duplicitous. We say that we trust God and then make all the plans ourselves. We say that we praise God for our successes, but people better pat us on the back when we pull something off. In other words there is a disconnection between word and action. And that is the culture I grew up in. And so did most of you. To me it make sense why I get so “screwed up in the head” so often. Everything I am taught has a counter point.

I think what presents itself then is the opportunity to work out our faith with fear and trembling. Odd transition, eh? But I think there is truth in it. When we are raised in contradictory belief, we can begin to search out truth. When we are taught have faith and work hard, we get to search out what that means. The Proverbs for example say that someone who loves sleep will go hungry, and Matthew says that the birds of the field and flowers are clothed by God’s provision. Contradiction! Work hard in one scenario, trust God in the other. Again, it presents an opportunity for working through this to find out how to live.

Which presents me with a unique situation this week. I have been trying to sort through life. If you’ve known me for any length of time, you’ve probably notice I transition a lot. I am always changing this, doing that, wondering if I should go there. It’s just what I do. I’m a mover, a gypsy of sorts. I don’t know why that is. Most of my family is settle in, rooted people. So, it is strange, to always be looking for the next thing. For example, my step-mom asked when I was moving back to Texas, and my response was classic James: I feel like there’s still one more adventure first.

So, in the midst of another, “should I stay or should I go” season, I felt this simple prompting from God: what do you want? Now unlike the Spice Girls, I can’t “Tell you want I want, what I really, really want” (Mims, that is for you!). It is a bit unnerving. And I realized why. I have been so caught up with an understanding of “following the Spirit” that I have forgotten the teaching of Jesus giving us the desires of our heart. Because even that phrase we stop and say, “But Jesus will show you what your desires should be.” So, in other words, I have kind of removed my own humanity. I have made life such a responsive thing that I have forgotten to take account of what it is that really brings me joy.

So here I am at this crux of trying to follow Jesus and know what my heart desires. It’s a strange thing. It’s almost like a new frontier for me, and I’m having to look at Paul’s words and think, “I guess I need to work this out.” So, if you see me with my head in the clouds, you can remind me that there is still this earthy, natural part of me that God is working on…and maybe you can help me figure out what I want…what I really, really want.

Thoughts on a Dancing God

This morning as I sat down to do my morning reading I was struck with a funny thought. In Chapter 6 of Henri Nouwen's Spiritual Direction, one of the reflection questions was "How do you picture God?" A seemingly normal question, and a priest once told Nouwen it was THE question. So, I sat down to think on this and oddly my mind went to Mia Michaels. Before I get into more of my thoughts on how I see God, take a gander at this piece that Michaels choreographed:

 

This isn't really even my favorite piece she has done, but the imagery involved goes a little more with where this post is headed. As I closed my eyes to meditate on God, to begin to answer how I pictured God, I simply saw this dancer. This dancer that went about singing and painting, and throughout the process creating. In other words, I saw this creative, emotive God that went about the process in great artistry. And the understanding of what I saw was this, God is beautiful, so why would the processes of God not also be beautiful. 

Now, I know that some people with a more utilitarian view of God may take issue with this. Engineers, scientists and others who tend to view things more orderly and mathematically may have come to see God as this very functional being that perfectly situated Earth where it could sustain life, and the human body so that it is perfectly functional. And I am down with that really. But what it made me realize is that as we are all made in God's image, the ways that we view Him/Her will be quite different. Also, the season we are in may change the way we view God.

I think that last thought has frequently paralyzed me in the past. Changing views on the eternal God who never changes makes me a flake, doesn't it? This morning that thought finally kind of lifted. Why would God, a multifaceted being always present Himself to me in the same way in every season of my life? If I am broken, in need of grace, mercy and compassion, why would God present Himself as harsh judge? If I am full of myself and blind to how my actions are causing others to suffer, why would God present myself as a doting mother?

 This is my favorite dance of Michaels' I have seen.

That is not to say that God changes, or that God is indeed flighty and insecure. Indeed that cannot be so. It also doesn't mean that we conjure up God in the image of what we need (want) in a given moment. I think anyone with college loans can attest that God isn't a banker who delivers a check anytime you want it! Also, anyone who has been seriously injured in a sporting accident or car wreck can attest that God isn't a magic fairy who magically heals all wounds at once just because we are inconvenienced. (Though I will not dismiss the possibility of God erasing debt or radically healing someone! These things happen.)

What it means is that God is other. God is not human. God is not restricted to the things that we can do. So creation of earth and human life need not only be the work of a scientist...it can also be the work of a dancer...or a teacher...or a craftsman...or a farmer...or whoever it is that we need. Because God is all of those things. We have teachers and craftsmen and farmers and singers and doctors because we are reflections of God.

So this morning, I am thankful for God showing herself through a reflection of someone like Mia Michaels.* God is creative, and beautiful. And the God that is reflected through Michaels beckons us, the children of God, to watch this beautiful intricate dance and then in turn join in that dance. And in doing so we do the job of following Him.#

So, though not the most Orthodox of posts, I think it goes to show part of the process I am going through these days. God as dancer is not something 18 year old James would have grappled with, and may not be something 63 year old James is into, but in this season of life it is God showing James who He is...and I am.

* For those of you concerned with a feminine pronoun attributed to God, I would encourage a look at the original Hebrew throughout Old Testament Scripture, particularly Isaiah and Psalms. Also, the word from which we get Spirit is feminine. 

# For those of you concerned I rely so heavily on masculine pronouns for God...I get you, but I'm still in process and it reflects the traditions I come from.

Some Thoughts on the Cross

As I am sitting here in Panera, an old phrase I used to hear quite often at a church I was a part of came back to me. "You have to go through the cross, not around it." I am not sure of the origins, but I am assuming that Jimmy Seibert either originated or brought it to our congregation. The basic premise was simply this, when you faced a situation, you could either go through the situation or find a work around. Either way you would come out on the other side, but if you went through the situation there would be transformation. If you went around, similar situations would more than likely continue to show themselves, and you would be presented the opportunity, over and over again to go through. So, obviously, the choice was persevere in difficult situations.

I hold that to be a great teaching. However, college-aged James, was a lover of avoiding pain, and found every possible path around myriad problems that presented in my life. I think this led to a long period of disorientation in my life. Even sitting here now it makes me think of the exodus story. The amazing thing about the Israelites was even while lost they still maintained this connection not only to a rich history with God, but also continued to hear the voice of God. It is interesting that when we talk about "back-sliders," "nominal Christians,""old believers," or whatever name we use, we automatically discount any sort of spiritual life. Sure, more than likely most men and women when "running from God," are trying to close a chapter of their life, but for 40 years an unfaithful people still heard from a faithful God.

Which reminds me of the story of Jonah. Poor old Jonah was the quintessential runner, yet his story makes it in both the Christian and Jewish canons, as well as the Qur'an. Jonah had cultivated some sort of relationship with God; God says, "Hey Jonah, go tell your worst enemy that I love them. It should be fun!" Jonah, was like, "Sure Man! Let me go catch a boat," and then whispered under his breath "to the furthest locale away from those nut jobs that I can." We know the rest of the story. God uses wind, waves and a godol dag (dang you Steve Wyrick for the torment you caused on my poor freshman Baptist soul saying Jonah was swallowed by a dag) to get Jonah where he needed to be. Another example of God's faithfulness meeting humanity's unfaithfulness.

God cares for lovable losers.

I think it shows that God cares for the lovable losers of the world. And somehow God brings about the suffering needed to develop lasting character in them, even when they can't seem to face it on their own.

The stories of the exodus and Jonah are close to my heart for obvious reasons. I'm no Job. Outside of my tattoos, the mere thought of pain allows me to display one of my greatest skills...getting the heck out of dodge. I am a runner. Maybe I am no Usain Bolt or Haile Gebrselassie, but I know how to get scarce when need be. I have almost made a career out of it! And that is the thing about these stories...those of us who run can both be challenged and encouraged by them.

Somehow the God that I choose to follow acknowledges that I have this propensity to cave to less than ideal thoughts when I'm scared. Sometimes when the cross lays before me, I break out the calculator to determine the circumference needed to skirt around the issue. And though I know that isn't ideal, I think it makes God smirk a little. I don't think it necessarily "pleases God" to see me run around, but I think that my weakness is what attracts God to me, and vice versa anyway. If I didn't need God in those moments, what would be the point of relationship anyway. It's a living reminder that God is God and I am human.

Now, for those of you who are a bit stronger than me in your faith, your consistency, or whatever measure, you may sit here thinking, "But you need to go through. You need to persevere. You need victory." And I say, "Yes and amen." But truth be told, it has just taken me a while. Yet I somehow choose to believe (maybe Marx's opium?) that this is the trajectory God has me on. Sure, I could have been more faithful here, more trusting there, and could be much further along. I admit that. I am not saying anything contrary to that. But the journey needed for me to learn dependance on God and community, the stories I needed to lead me into eternal faithfulness were learned in dark hours. And I treasure those now.

Even now, there are times where the temptation for me is to go around situations...but I'm learning. Without going into too much detail, I currently find myself in weird circumstances. I am trying to figure out a situation, I am trying to force solutions to said situation, but I keep coming back to this sentiment: "Choose God. Be with God. That situation will diffuse itself." Maybe that brings comfort to some of you. It scares the snot out of me. I don't like trusting in someone I can't see and faithfully hear to provide a solution I could take care of on my own. Really...I don't. But there is a part of me that understands that God is more faithful than I could ever imagine. That God has better plans than I could ever conjecture. And I choose to go through the cross of believing that.

I would hit the brick everyday!

Now, personally I would rather "Hit the Brick" and wait for God at the shuffleboard table there in Roslyn, WA, with my friends Doug and Erika (with an Irish Death in hand!) while I wait, but instead, I sit in Panera, gradually becoming a fan of the Crimson Tide. And somehow that part of the journey, becomes sweeter. Even though I have tried to run from Alabama since the first week I got here, even though at times Alabama feels like the cross I endure, it has become a sweet place for me. It is become a place where running has been blocked. Instead of calculating what it would take to traverse around situations, I have plunged into them. I have learned to trust that God is in the midst of pain and suffering, joy and peace, brokenness and healing.

So, in essence, I am finally growing into revelation given a long time ago. And instead of condemning 19 year old James for not learning those lessons long ago, I just appreciate that I am learning them now while making some life-long friends in the process. Some co-conspirators in what it looks like to follow Jesus in changing circumstances. Learning what it means to go through the cross when culture offers countless pain killers. It really is an interesting time place to learn these lessons. So, I wait. I wait in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

Thoughts on the Vulnerability of Art

I was on Spotify the other day listening to the Bon Iver radio station, you know, as all we aging hipsters do. I came across this song that just stunned me. It was called “I Was Broken” by Marcus Foster. This song was beautiful, so I decided to listen to the album and look up a review or two as I read. The first and only review I read said something like this: This album is self-important, but even worse you can tell that Foster played it safe.

First of all, the fact that we pay people money to review albums, movies, food, etc., is kind of ridiculous isn’t it? Before we can even begin to know if the reviewer is trustworthy is to have a baseline to know if that man or woman has the same kind of palette we do. It could be that person really only likes nerd core music with heavy synth. (I am sure there is someone out there like that.) There are just so many variables when it comes to listening to a stranger’s opinion on something as varied as music.

It would be quite different than listening to your best friend’s opinion, or that of your aunt. Sure, you listen to what they say, but in the back of your mind you can think, “Tilman is really artsy. He likes TheFountain and I just don’t get that film. So, when he says this is a great art house pic, I need to take that in consideration,” or, “Sure, Aunt Sue hated that, but what country album has she liked since Dolly and Porter split?” We have the context and know how to interpret things…plus, studios aren’t groveling to get good reviews from Tilman and Aunt Sue.

So, back to this review of Foster’s Nameless Path, sure this reviewer may think that the album is self-important. I think that can be a fair assumption about many artists or their albums. Some artists are consumed by their craft. Some think they have created the next Rhapsody in Blue, and that is fine. Artists take a while to find their place in their scene and deserve to be proud of what they do. Assuming Foster is a reasonably young artist, it is probably even accurate. (I don’t know Foster or his music history, so if you somehow read this Marcus, I’m not saying you’re a prideful git. Still friends, eh?)

Where I take issue with the reviewer is this: how is releasing an album in any way, shape or form safe? Really, how can releasing part of yourself for public consumption and judgment ever be safe?

Art by its very nature is vulnerable and aesthetic. Let’s start with aesthetic first. According to trusty dictionary.com aesthetic means: “The philosophical theory or set of principles governing the idea of beauty at a given time and place.” So, aesthetics concerns what is beautiful. Robert Pirsig deals with this idea and adds that it also concerns quality in his Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. We hear adages about beauty from the time we are kids: “Beauty is skin deep,” “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” “She’s beautiful on the inside.” Just from these three we see that beauty is superficial, personal and hard to gauge from the outside. Interesting when you stop to look at what we are taught.

I think most of us would agree that there are personal, local and universal beauties. I love The Royal Tenebaums, a lot of my close friends hate it…personal beauty. I grew up in Florence, Texas. Most of us would argue there is something beautiful about The Cotton Gin that most people on the outside just don’t get…local beauty. Most people, no matter what they think of classical music, can agree that Aaron Copland’s Rodeo is a great, defining piece of music…universal beauty.

There are certain things that somehow transcend nationality, race, culture, age, religion, sex or any other demographic you want to add to that list. For instance, I think we can all agree China’s 2008 Olympics Opening Ceremony was beautiful. You may go into human rights violations and all sorts of other things that from the back end would detract from that beauty, but, the product presented was pretty. And that is the first part of the arts.

The second part is vulnerability. I think even Weird Al Yankovic would agree that any piece of art you submit is an extension of yourself. It is vulnerable to offer part of yourself for public consumption. Rejection of a song that you wrote and carefully crafted can be nerve-wrecking. It is just the nature of something is intimately personal as art, music, food and the like.

My contention with the reviewer is that by Foster writing, recording, mixing the album presents a part of who he is to the public. Foster also has to contend with record execs, producers, mixers and even other musicians in creating the album. If an executive says something is too much, guess what, Foster has to scale back. There are so many things that go into the process of creating an album that an assessment that it is too safe just seems invalid, especially for a younger artist.

And, because of my context I think of how this relates to things done via the Church. There are probably many great songwriters across the Church that either have no outlet to create, or are afraid of the general response across their congregations. I know; I feel that. I have written a few songs in my day, and am scared to death to ever play a song in service, because extending something so precious to me is frightening. What if my song is rejected? What if that in turn makes me doubt the validity of experience that went into creating it? There are so many questions that go along with that. Because at that point the critics are no longer nameless and faceless…they are your friends and family. They are elders and church staff. And that rejection is hard.

But to conclude, we haven’t seen a lot of risk demonstrated on the local level. We like our Bethel, Hillsong, Passion, Vineyard, Stephen Curtis Chapman, Carmen or whatever niche it is that the Church latches onto this month. And so, we say, “Do that new Chris Tomlin song,” instead of saying, “Is there anything emerging locally? Is there something that is coming out of the ground right here, right now?” And I think that is because it is riskier to pursue something unique and original than to continue promoting what is currently established. And it also says to the creative members of community, “It’s time to do your part. Give us that new song.”

So, I guess there comes a place and time where the mutual vulnerability of artist and church meet. And it will be raw, risky, emotive, vulnerable by the nature of even giving it a go. But I think the risk of beauty will always outweigh the risk of safety.

Thoughts on Thomas Merton

If there has been one pivotal encounter that stands above all others in the formation of my Christian faith, it might well be walking into Half Price Books in Round Rock, Texas, seeing this book called Learning to Love: Exploring Solitude and Freedom - The Journal of Thomas Merton, Vol. 6, buying said book, and beginning a love affair with the writings of someone that is such a kindred spirit. Merton is rascally; he’s earthy, moody and mischievous. In so many ways he reminds me of myself. I know that some of those words may not be the attributes you, my friends, would use to describe me, but it is how I see myself. And so, when I read Merton I see the best things about myself…and the worst. I see things that need refinement and things that need to be pruned. 

That said I am not delusional enough to think that I have in some way obtained the same knowledge of my friend here. I also don’t identify with his calling to remove myself from the world. I totally have the desire at times to run off and become a monk, but I don’t see how that fits in with other gifts and callings in my life. So though I see Merton as kindred, I do not see him as identical. I don’t strive to be like Merton. I do however learn from him what pit falls may lay ahead of me because we have a similar bent. I also try to glean from him some good solid points of influence.

It’s kind of like a baseball player. Let’s say a tall, lanky pitcher with a strange wind-up comes along. He has this amazing ability. He looks up one day and Randy Johnson is on the TV screen. He identifies with Johnson. He sees similar mechanics, similar form. He is not Johnson, but he can learn from Johnson’s history to see what works, what doesn’t and what would make him prone to injury. Even studying Johnson’s form and injury history, understanding what mechanics made Johnson successful will not translate into an identical career path. It may make the young baseball player better, but it will not make him into Randy Johnson.

If you and I are friends on Facebook, or even Twitter, you may have seen me reference many quotes from Merton, particularly this famous prayer of his:

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

The vulnerability of that prayer, the honesty of it just resonates with my soul. I know the desires of my heart. I know how whimsical and flippant I can be at times. I know that I can be passionately moved for a few weeks and then move on to another cause a few weeks later. That is how I live. I am not the most steady person or the most consistent. But as Merton prays, the desire of my heart is to be faithful. And when I get caught up in the logistics of faithfulness to the point that I am overwhelmed, I can go back to relying on God to see the desire of my heart. To see that I want to be faithful with every fiber of my being.

It reminds me of one of my favorite Mumford and Sons lyrics:

But I'll still believe though there's cracks you'll see,
When I'm on my knees I'll still believe,
And when I've hit the ground, neither lost nor found,
If you'll believe in me I'll still believe

(from “Holland Road” on the album Babel)

I am one of those guys who though I understand myself to be found eternally secure because of the finished work of Jesus, often find myself “neither lost nor found.” I can understand anyone who makes a theological argument against that thought, but hear me out for a second. I am not saying that I am actually “blown and tossed by the wind” like James writes in the first chapter of his letter. I am saying that at times I do feel as such. So, this is less about the power of Jesus, and more about the experience of being human. I experience these turbulent emotions and insecurities that swirl around me. And I rest assured that I will find peace and security. Sometimes I experience that in the here and now…sometimes I get swept out to sea and have to ask Jesus to rebuke the storm.

What Merton has been for me is a guide to say, “Even still…trust God. Learn to be your true self before God and man. God, friends and family can take your insecurity. They can take your irrational thoughts and help you be formed into the true nature that you are recovering.” And that is a message I need.

As I have often said before one of my biggest weaknesses is I am a perfectionist that cannot seem to get it right. I am often down on myself for the miniscule mistake in the midst of a triumph. “But it wasn’t perfect. I hit a wrong chord. I said the wrong word.” Those thoughts surround me…they probably always will. And Merton’s life shows that is the case. Merton shows me that I will probably always be fascinated by ideas on the fringe. I may tamper in the mud when living streams lay just ahead. But…it is okay; God is God, and I am just a man. He will lead me out of the miry clay and onto the paths of life everlasting.

Okay…that’s enough for now. Go read some Merton. I recommend Dialogues with Silence: Prayers & Drawings. It is pretty accessible and you could finish it in an hour at Barnes and Noble or some other such place. That way you can see if you like this dude before you commit to buying his work! Also, go listen to Mumford…and try to convince him to do his Birmingham concert a couple of days early so I can see him and still hang out with the monks!

Thoughts on Identity

This week has been one of those rough weeks. I think externally there is nothing anyone could point to that would identify it as such for me. It's one of those internal things. Like many of you, I sometimes just get trapped in the inner-weavings of a complex set of thoughts, emotions and feelings. And so much of what I dealt with this week was just getting caught in the crossfire of reason-vs-gut instinct-vs-feelings of insecurity. Make sense?

This guy dares you NOT to stay on the Elkhorn.

This morning, I came for my weekly jaunt to Panera. I have no idea why Saturday mornings at Panera have become so special. They just are. It started about a year ago on a Sunday morning actually in Frankfort, Kentucky. After a fitful night involving a lack of sleep on the Elkhorn I decided since I was up, I would find a place to hang out before spending time with my buddy Jeff and his congregation. I remember there being a few places by the highway heading toward the church, and it looked like only Panera was open. I think I had a two hour "quiet time" for those of you who like that language. If you know me, you know that two hours of anything is pretty amazing. And so, my love affair with Panera began.

This morning, amidst the internal swirl of life, I found myself reading my weekly homework from Henri Nouwen's Spiritual Direction. As I have mentioned before, Nouwen is pretty special for me. I took a class on him in seminary. This summer when I asked for a mentor at church David Prince stepped up to the plate and we decided to read through Spiritual Direction together.

So, halfway through my cup of coffee, after finishing my Scripture reading, I opened up chapter 3. It was one of those overwhelming/peaceful moments. I think you know what I mean...you've probably been there. It's overwhelming because although it is exactly something you need to hear (read), it is so sweet that it brings deep-abiding comfort. At the heart of the chapter is one central point: we are the Beloved of God.

Everything else in the chapter is pivotal to that. Nouwen (or rather Michael Christensen and Rebecca Laird, who composed this book from Nouwen's teachings and unpublished works) points to three areas that we frequently point to as identity: what we do, what others say about us, and what we have.

What We Do

The first area we often point to as our identity is what we do. Ask anyone about my aversion to claiming my identity by what I do, especially TJ Felke. Really, ask them. For some reason, early in life, I simply refused to identify myself by what I did. I can't tell you why, but there was a deep felt disdain for that type of identification. Some of that may go back to my dad. Buck Love (still quite possibly the best name for a dad anywhere) was a mechanic. That is what he did. I was never ashamed of that. But, anyone who saw my dad as just a mechanic just radically missed who he was.

Buck Love (w my niece Sammy) is the stuff of legends!

My dad may have the ability and understanding to fix many types of machines, but that could never define a man who is one of the most fierce protectors of friendship, lovers of family, and seekers of truth alive today. So, to say, "Buck is a mechanic," radically missed the mark. And I think seeing that, understanding that about my father, caused me to always reject the idea of vocation being linked with identity.

On the flipside, my inner Pharisee would hound on acts of service and devotion. In my younger years I wanted my faith to be seen by just about anyone and everyone. I wanted people to know if I had a quiet time. I wanted people to praise me that I led men and women in worship. I think that I so heavily depended on works, and identification with works that there was really no growth. I didn't develop a secret life apart from community...I just performed like a monkey in costume for the adulation of those around me. Works were about love and acceptance. And looking back is a reminder not to purse that type of identity.

What People Say About Us

The second area Nouwen pointed to in terms of identity is what other people say about us. I think this is one of the easiest things for us to acknowledge as a bad way to live life. If we are constantly leaning on the words of others there are multitudes of ways we can be let down. Silence. Criticism. Lies. Cynicism. Any of these can derail who we "are." There is no safety in living your life banking on the praise of other people.

Despite knowing this, I know that I live and die by the praise of those around me. It is just old hat. I am a people person. I want to know that the people around me like me, love me and generally want me around. At the end of the day I am more prone to base success or satisfaction on how things shook out relationally than by how many tasks I completed or did satisfactorily. In other words, this is where I have derived a vast amount of my identity.

What We Have

Nouwen looks like someone I'd hang with.

The last area Nouwen pointed to in terms of identity is the things we own. I like the way that Nouwen explained this. He didn't just point to things we own like houses, cars, books, music. He also pointed to things like our national identity, familial identity and such. In other words, everything that we own, physical or otherwise. 

Finding our identity in these places is quite simple. It is easy to say, "I am a Texan from Florence who has four brothers and a sister. I am a Baptist with some Charismatic and Catholic tendencies who banks at Union State Bank. I am an athlete, musician and scholar with a master's degree."

Those are all things that I have. Every statement is thus true. And more than owning a Nissan Frontier (speaking of, any of you in the market for one?) or MacBook Pro, I can easily derive a sense of identification from those things. It is easy to fall prey to these things as the source of who we are.

I Am God's Beloved

But, Nouwen says that all of these things are false identifications for those of us who call ourselves Christians. We are simply "God's Beloved." I'll admit, I have heard this and similar messages for most of my life. Many great teachers and pastors have planted these seeds of identity, but they have not always taken root. I think to an extent I was just so hurried that I would say, "Yes. I know," and never reflect on the true meaning of being God's Beloved.

That has frequently been my problem. I can analytically decipher a statement and cognitively process it back in the storage of my mind grapes, but I never really access it on the level of identity. I never really let my life be transformed by the understanding that God calls me Beloved. I know for some this sounds like the very dregs of sentimentality that turn you off of Evangelical thought, but this isn't just ooey-gooey emotional sentimentalism. It is instead simple truth that should transform us not to live by the whims of what so easily passes through our fingers. We cannot hold onto nationalism, family, monetary satisfaction or anything of the like. We can hold onto proper identification rooted in eternal truth.

Identity is something that we will struggle with our entire lives. "Who am I?" is a question that will always be around. Whenever we are able to answer that with something substantive and eternal we will be changed. Whenever we answer that with something fleeting, insecurity will pad beside us. I may not have it all figured out. I may never. But what I feel like I am learning in this season is that when I can respond as God's Beloved, I am more prone to act of love and not fear. I won't get caught up in the waves and currents of emotionalism or even ill-gained wisdom. Instead I will find peace and rootedness in that which is eternal.