Christian at the house of Interpreter

I'm reading Pilgrim's Progress now; I haven't gone over it since I was quite small, and it's so good.  I don't read a lot of Christian literature, and I know that's a fault, but I don't have any trouble with Bunyan's classic.

The part I was reading last night contained the story of Christian at the house of Interpreter.  The protagonist walks through the house and is presented with all sorts of symbolism that will help him on his way to the Celestial City.  One of these images is that of two little boys, Patience and Passion.

" 'Their governess wants them to wait for their best things until next year,' says Interpreter, 'but Passion wants all his best things now; while Patience is willing to wait.'

Then one came to Passion and poured out at his feet a bag of treasures which he quickly gathered into his arms with great joy.  He laughed loudly and made fun of Patience.  But soon he wasted everything he had received, and had nothing left but an empty bag.' "

This passage hinted to me at the Prodigal Son, but a few paragraphs later, Interpreter points at that this is like the Rich Man and Lazarus.  Reading that section of Luke 16, you can see that the rich man "was clothed in purple and fine linen and feasted sumptuously every day."  He chose his comforts and lived on his passions, while Lazarus suffered.  And Lazarus' joys didn't get touched by "moth and rust."

I think about "Your Best Life Now" and cringe, because that's what the rich man had.  I think about being called to a place where we suffer and feel like we're missing out on life, but really, our joy is not in this world.  I wish we'd all stop looking for it here.

Behold the Man

Behold the master with his paint;
Behold the fencer with his feint.
Behold the skill, then look again:
Look past it still; behold the man.

Behold the Muslim with his prayer;
Behold the Socialist, his welfare.
Behold the views, then look again:
Look farther still; behold the man.

Behold the savage with his spear;
Behold the coward with his fear.
Admit the faults, but look again:
Behold them all; behold the men.

Behold the dirty with his mud;
Behold the hungry with his cud.
Behold your spite, then look again:
Behold His face; behold the Man!

Some Lyrics About Calling

I'm tired of fitting in.
I'm tired of being one of a crowd.
I want to move to the Equator,
Hear Kipling shout my name out loud.

Dream on, little boy,
You're not Hemingway or Dr. Livingstone.

I want to climb the mountain peaks.
I want to leave this all behind.
I want to laugh when I am achy.
I want to overcome my mind.

Dream on, little boy.
You're not Hemingway or Dr. Livingstone.

Now your family's getting hungry as you climb Kilimanjaro.
Why don't you do what you are here for, get your mind out of tomorrow.

And dream on, little boy.
There are higher mountains in Heaven than the ones you've missed.

I'm tired of giving up
All my favorite childhood schemes.
But I know there's something better
Than my technicolor dreams.

Now that I'm married...

I've heard a lot of fascinating things happen when you get married: life starts making sense, you realize all your spouse's faults, you feel more confident, and you start learning all sorts of stuff about God.

Maybe I'm just an idiot, or Amy and I have been doing something wrong, but none of those things really jump out at me from two weeks later. I like being married a lot, prefer it, even, but I don't really feel like co-habitation and all that goes with it (that is, the practical side of marriage) has really given me any new wisdom. I'm just trying to love Amy's all, and I just have more opportunities now.

We were talking about sacrificing the other day, because we both have heard that it's pretty essential to marriage, and we've done our share of it in dating, and some in our short time of matrimony. Anyway, we were talking about how sacrifice and forgiveness are sort of the ultimate sides of selfless love, and I thought I'd mention somebody who really inspires me.

My friend Kyle is one of the most mercurial people I've ever met, but that doesn't mean I find much in him to dislike. He's had some tough times with his family, and that's really where I've been able to observe the most Christ-like love I've ever seen. I was sitting with Kyle and two other friends on the back of his houseboat at Easter, and we were discussing the "greatest things we'd ever done." None of us could really think of anything great we'd done, but Kyle, after a long silence which I thought meant he assumed the question was kind of dumb, spoke up with, "The greatest thing I've ever done is forgiving my Dad."

And it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. It's a scary hope, but I hope that I can, someday, love like Kyle has loved. He's getting married tomorrow, and I can't think of a luckier girl than his bride. Congratulations, guys.

Moaning Over the Nativity

Friday morning on my way to lunch, I was getting thoroughly annoyed with the constant sound of commercials coming from the radio, so I flipped to the classical station, where the songs are so long that the odds are against tuning into a commercial.  I had just enough time to hear "And this is his Nativity Overture" before the music began.

The first few notes sounded from the strings section, low and ominous.  A sad, slow air came from the flutes, and the rest of the orchestra eventually mourned along.  I was feeling sufficiently somber, and then I remembered that the song was called "The Nativity."  I thought, "Wait a second!  This is no ordinary carol.  Not a whole lot of good Christian men rejoicing here."  I had to consider why the Nativity would be such a sad song.

The normal scandal of being born in a stable hit me, and that was sad enough, I guess.  But I think there is a definite scandal to the whole Incarnation, even without the Crucifixion and torture and hate.  I'm thinking about the Light being dimmed so it can be seen by all men.  I'm considering what it means for the Son of God to be contained.  No wonder the gnostics couldn't handle the idea of the Word becoming flesh.  He reigns supreme over the Cosmos, and yet He made his dwelling with us.

I don't think the sadness is a result of these things alone, though.  Whenever someone is obviously humble, it produces a sort of tension between jaw-dropping and mouth-shutting.  I think when we look at a major step in the Greatest Humility we should feel a sort of sadness.

But I still can't help admiring the Joy brought To The World.

Out of Focus

A friend was saying the other day how common it is for people, particularly Christians to go "out on the range, just looking for a fence to be on one side of."  I think people just focus on the wrong things.  In this illustration, people are focusing on theology rather than God.

I really believe that focusing on anything rather than the Person(s) of the Trinitarian God leads us to get some pretty screwy ideas.  What's the problem with the cults?  They focus too much on the unity of God or the mission of the church and forget about the Person of Christ.  Or Christian groups will forget put evangelism before love.  And it really gets messed up when people start thinking they have this "key idea."

I love thinking about stuff that's philosophical and theological.  It's not only a good way to recognize God, but it makes me feel smart and cool.  I just get so mixed up in the ideas (even the good ones) sometimes that I just think of God as an idea, as opposed to the Ultimate Reality.  I love the reason so much that I forget the fact that it's existential.

I Have Scorned The Deeper Dealings

This is a poem I wrote about self-denial.

I have scorned the deeper dealings in dark Amsterdam's dread dens.
I have prated on the prairies; I have fasted in the fens.
Now, still, I seek that fruit where all joy's beginning's end,
And You are here and love and great,
Offering grace in Your mandate.
How can I deny the body unless you snatch me and transcend?

You have loved the deeper dealers in dark Amsterdam's dread dens.
You were broken in the brooks; You were fettered in the fens.
You have offered bread and wine, that my meets its end.
And You are here and love and vision,
Offering grace in Your commission.
I will step into the world, if Your hands my knees will bend.