Be At Peace

The sermon at church this morning was alright.  I was down at Josh's, and visiting his home church is always an experience.  The message was based on the benediction part of 1 Thessalonians 5.

After feeling uncomfortable while the pastor discussed practical ways in which the church could encourage him and other leaders, he talked about helping the feeble-minded (reading a great passage out of Pilgrim's Progress) and being at peace with the brethren.  Man, I got hit hard then.

I thought of all the Christians I don't like for stupid reasons.  Like I assume their motivation for actions isn't good.  Or some of the stuff they do isn't my style.  But that's not satisfactory, and certainly not Biblical.  Constantly, I forget the fact that others are made in God's image.  And I'm worse on Christians, because they should know better.

But I should be at peace with them.  Of course they're different.  I'm not Christ, or even Everyman, so why should all of them be what I think I should be.  Unique image-bearers.  Why shouldn't people be proud of the things they're good at, even if they're not things I care much about?  No matter what, I should be at peace with these folks, and ideally, I'll be loving them.

Good and Right

I note that when my heart turns to vice, I create a disconnect in my mind between good and right.  This should not be so.

At what point did I stop asking, "Is this right?"  When did I replace it with, "Is this what I feel is good?"  There should be no difference between good and right in actions, and yet, when my standard is my feelings, good could be anything.  And so my morals disappear with my exasperation and my worry.  Both of which are based in my pride.

I think, though, that there is some small difference between doing good and doing right.  I can do good to another by offering them a social gospel.  I can feed the poor.  I can make my friends feel better.  But unless I am offering Christ, I am not doing right.  And really, my good is no good.

Recently, I've been forgetting that God is in all things, that the Spirit is always ready to lead.  Instead, I do what I want because it's not wrong in and of itself.  But then again, eating a fruit isn't wrong in and of itself.  But God wasn't directing Adam and Eve toward the forbidden fruit.  And He's not directing me to my selfish desires.  I really want to be observing and caring and seeking and sacrificing, but I forget that my deepest desires have nothing to do with me at all.

Engagement

Amy and I are engaged.

Sacraments

Sacraments are outward signs of inward grace, instituted by Christ for our sanctification (Catechismus concil. Trident., n. 4, ex St. Augustine, "De Catechizandis rudibus").

That's how I feel about it.

James Dean, James Dean, I know just what you mean.

Man, people are hurting.  How come I always miss that point?

I'll admit that I'm pretty spiteful.  Whenever people say stuff to me that I don't like, I usually respond properly where they can see and then think of clever and cutting responses the next time they speak.  And I never say those things.  Partly because I've cooled off by the time we talk again, partly because I know I shouldn't say stuff like that, and partly because I'm afraid.  But my motivation isn't really what I'm talking about.  I'm pretty familiar with my motivations.  What I have to think about is the other person's.

It's trite to say that "you don't know what there going through right now."  It's not even close to being the main reason we should value people.  But it's generally true.  People do have bad days.  Sometimes they coincide with ours.  I just forget that other people have pasts, too.  I always figure everything revolves around me, so that past is less consequential.  Stupid.  But the guys I mock in my head and the faces I'd like to spit on live in a fallen world too.  They don't need my pithy slashes.

I gave this post its title because it reminds me of "Rebel Without A Cause."  So misunderstood and treated so badly.

What's the deal?  I wish I connected with Christ more so I could start acting like Him.

Really

I was talking to Josh about how funny it is when people who are really good at something spend all their time doing other stuff that they don't even seem to enjoy.  I don't know if this disease is accompanied by an image problem or just a desire to do something different, but it's just strange.  All the people we've observed that do this aren't as easy to be around as when they're doing what they really care about.

And then there's people like us who don't really know what we care about.  We just like God really well and the stuff we've always liked and new experiences.  No idea what that's going to look like in the future.  Hopefully we can do something useful.  Or just be prepared to do something that's good.

I was thinking about all the cultural stuff that you have to do if you're a missionary.  Speak differently.  Eat differently.  Drink differently.  Express yourself differently.  I think that's part of sanctification, but I think a bigger thing than doing new stuff is giving up old stuff.  The new's coming.  Does it have any room?  And what do people like Josh and Andrew and me do when we don't even understand the old stuff, let alone know how to give it up?  I didn't realize I cared so much about politcal theory until it was smashed in Rwanda.  I didn't realize I cared so much about having personal space until I had to share a small room with two other guys in Long Dorm, one of whom wanted all the space.  It's strange.

So what do I care about?

Really.

Discomfort

I accompanied Amy and her family this weekend to one of those parties where nobody but the host knows everybody else.  Most of the guests were somehow connected with the British Commonwealth, and we were the only Americans there.  We were told by the host when we arrived, "Yeah, just grab a drink and start meeting some people."  And then we were left alone.  So we started meeting people.  I spent most of the time talking to an Indian family about how the first-down lines move on American football games.  It was uncomfortable at first, but I liked it.

I wonder how much of maturity begins in discomfort.  "Growing pains," right?  Right.  You've got to suffer through that first back-packing trip to really know what to expect and love the next time.  You've got to drive around some streets you don't know to get the map in your head.  I wonder how our relationship with God parallels that.  Evangelism, sure.  You don't really get it until you've done it.  But what about the experiential relationship?  Confession?  Humility?  Maybe everything that's really good is an acquired taste.  Maybe that meat that God feeds us has to be chewed up a million times before we get the hang of not having milk.  Maybe we should glory in our discomfort, as it's a part of sanctification, too.

Empty It

Not a whole lot of worthwhile stuff in the heart.  I've gotta admit that whatever Adam and Eve screwed up, I've always been willing to take it to a new level.  Let me explain why I always seem like I love vice:

I don't love vice.  But I love what I think I must look like when I'm running my hands through my hair and being the picture of cool misery.  I just think I'd fit right in with Edward Hopper's classic painting The Nighthawks.  Alienation.  It's probably a reaction against loneliness.  I pretend I love being alone and get so caught up in it that I stop feeling so lonely and stick with a smooth low.  One of the sadder reactions against discomfort.  It's not drugs, but it's basically shooting up cool.

One of the better moments of my time in Rwanda was when I went to a junky little dive and met this Rwandan guy with a French name that I can't remember.  He was lonely and drinking to fight it.  He stated openly that he had AIDS.  And a kid who didn't have AIDS.  And people just left him there to suffer and try to save himself from his pain.  And I gave him my email address and walked away because I couldn't do more since I couldn't understand him well enough to find him again.  I wonder what a ministry to the lonely looks like.  Probably like every other ministry but more obviously loving.  Everybody just wants it - love.  We all feel marooned and pretend we want something else.  No wonder those are the only commandments - loving God and loving people.  It's the only thing worth offering.  Without it, everything else we've got's meaningless, right Paul?  Right.