A friend from years gone by posted this statement today on a social networking site…Dear 2009: We are so over. You've been the most miserable year of my life. You lied to me, stole from me, and betrayed me. Worst of all, you shattered my heart without once looking back. But you know what? You will never destroy me because I am strength personified. Don't let my door smack you in the ass as you leave--good riddance!
I began a response. “Actually, it sounds like you owe a lot to 2009.” I should have stopped there but, instead, continued with something about how our character is more clearly defined in difficulty than by ease or even triumph. Impossible though it may seem, the message actually went downhill from there, attenuating to a level of triviality traditionally reserved for cheap fortune cookies. I quickly back-spaced the thoughts into cyber oblivion.
The truth is, in many ways, I share her sentiment. 2009 was not my favorite year and I can't say I'm sorry to see it go. I too find myself happily looking ahead.
Even so, I am not a big New Year resolution guy. Fresh starts? Great. Resolve and subsequent discipline? Let’s go. But, quixotic visions of new identity inspired by a superficial delineation of time? Good luck with that. Still, these superficial delineations are the framework for the world in which I must functionally exist. And, while I don’t believe it possible to make a clean break of the things I don’t like about who, what, and where I am, just because the year is coming to a close; change must find its beginning.
I am seldom completely unaware of the consequences of my actions. I live much more intentionally than that. However, that does not mean potential consequences are the major motivation for many of my choices—especially those I have or will come to regret most. No. Those choices are usually motivated by selfishness, immediacy, even apathy; regardless of any impending consequences.
I cannot speak of my resolve. I will make no personal promises. I'm not sure anyone ever really does. I think it is more accurate to say we have New Year desires—New Year hopes. So, what I long for in the New Year is to live in the full implication and reality of the statements made by a follower of Jesus, two millennia ago.
The truth is, in many ways, I share her sentiment. 2009 was not my favorite year and I can't say I'm sorry to see it go. I too find myself happily looking ahead.
Even so, I am not a big New Year resolution guy. Fresh starts? Great. Resolve and subsequent discipline? Let’s go. But, quixotic visions of new identity inspired by a superficial delineation of time? Good luck with that. Still, these superficial delineations are the framework for the world in which I must functionally exist. And, while I don’t believe it possible to make a clean break of the things I don’t like about who, what, and where I am, just because the year is coming to a close; change must find its beginning.
I am seldom completely unaware of the consequences of my actions. I live much more intentionally than that. However, that does not mean potential consequences are the major motivation for many of my choices—especially those I have or will come to regret most. No. Those choices are usually motivated by selfishness, immediacy, even apathy; regardless of any impending consequences.
I cannot speak of my resolve. I will make no personal promises. I'm not sure anyone ever really does. I think it is more accurate to say we have New Year desires—New Year hopes. So, what I long for in the New Year is to live in the full implication and reality of the statements made by a follower of Jesus, two millennia ago.
God went for the jugular when he sent his own Son. He didn't deal with the problem as something remote and unimportant. In his Son, Jesus, he personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all. The law code, weakened as it always was by fractured human nature, could never have done that.
The law always ended up being used as a Band-Aid on sin instead of a deep healing of it. And now what the law code asked for but we couldn't deliver is accomplished as we, instead of redoubling our own efforts, simply embrace what the Spirit is doing in us.
Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God's action in them find that God's Spirit is in them—living and breathing God! Obsession with self in these matters is a dead end; attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life. Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God. Anyone completely absorbed in self ignores God, ends up thinking more about self than God. That person ignores who God is and what he is doing. And God isn't pleased at being ignored.
But if God himself has taken up residence in your life, you can hardly be thinking more of yourself than of him. Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won't know what we're talking about. But for you who welcome him, in whom he dwells—even though you still experience all the limitations of sin—you yourself experience life on God's terms. It stands to reason, doesn't it, that if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, he'll do the same thing in you that he did in Jesus, bringing you alive to himself? When God lives and breathes in you (and he does, as surely as he did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. With his Spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ's!
So don't you see that we don't owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There's nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give it a decent burial and get on with your new life. God's Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!
This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what's coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we're certainly going to go through the good times with him!
Romans 8:3-17 [1]
1. Peterson, Eugene H. The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2002.
4 comments:
“Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life.”
This made me think of the character Percy in “Green Mile.” Some friends of mine got together to watch it for New Years day. Percy is the character we hate first, because we don’t meet Wild Bill until later. Percy is arrogant, spoiled, and wickedly curious. While we hate Wild Bill for his black heart and unapologetic antics, we know he’s going to get his; whereas Percy seems to just get away with his machinations (which brings up the topic of justice that I won’t go into here). When put in a threatening situation, Percy the cop freezes and pees himself. He is obsessed with power but doesn’t have any of his own to exercise.
We hate Percy, we want Percy gone, Percy pisses us off. I’m like Percy.
Hopefully people don’t want me gone, but I am an unfit muscle builder. Maybe that’s why I don’t make resolutions. I don’t want to fail at them.
A friend of mine posted his resolutions. They were so well thought out and few were selfish. His resolutions make me want to commit to some things this year. If nothing else, even if he fails at one or all, he has inspired me. That is difficult to do.
Sorry, don’t really know where this post is going, but perhaps it gives you some thoughts. At least you see I’ve read your post and am thinking… I’ve never checked anything other than “thought provoking” on your blog James.
James—
I marked your post as "thought provoking," to say the least! As the "friend from years gone by," I want to share a little more about the thoughts that went into that post.
2009 was actually the most horrible year I have ever experienced—and when describing my life, that is saying QUITE a lot. There was so much loss and sadness and sickness and so on...I can't really even think about it without crying. But I know that there is no strict delineation of good times and bad, so it's not as if this new year brings new resolutions that I expect will change my life somehow. All I can do is keep on keeping on.
You are right that sometimes we get lost in thinking that we can handle things on our own, instead of handing our struggles over to God so he can take care of us they way He sees fit. But that has always been my personal spiritual struggle—why does God allow so much strife and pain in my life when I work so hard every single day to be a good person? This is of course only what I experience in my own microcosm of the universal struggle: how can God allow suffering in a world in which He loves us so much? No one has answered this question satisfactorily, and I doubt anyone ever will. I read books from people who have truly suffered, like Elie Wiesel and C.S. Lewis, and I will continue to do so. But I still can’t come up with a good reason to trust that God wants me to be a good and happy person. I try and try and try, but I just can’t place my faith in a God who has allowed misery to overtake me. Do I want to be this way? NO! Who would want to be damaged and troubled and depressed? Who would want to work so hard to do right by everyone around her when so many of them only wish to hurt her?
“Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God's action in them find that God's Spirit is in them—living and breathing God!”
How can I possibly trust God’s actions when they seem only to hurt me? How do I experience true faith? I know that is the key, but there is no path I can see that I am supposed to follow. The intellectual side of my brain refuses to give in to any notion of faith. How do you do it? I truly believe that God will not put me through things I cannot handle. I also believe that God has given me wisdom beyond my years and experiences, so that I can share it with others who are troubled. Perhaps that is my path—helping others so that I can help myself. I’m just waiting for the “faith switch” to be flipped on…
I’m so honored that you were inspired to write an entry because of some silly Facebook status that I posted out of bitterness and sadness, which is by definition incomplete and inadequate for explaining an issue as complex as this. While I loved you when I knew you back in school as the hilarious and extremely talented person I experienced you to be, I now admire you as this self-reflective, astoundingly intelligent, compassionate, and spiritually grounded person whom I never got to know.
Your Friend Always,
Ardith
Sorry it has taken me a few days to respond. Things have been busy on this end. And, I wanted to be thoughtful with my reply. Thank you for your kind words, by the way.
I think I understand some of your frustration; even share it. I’m not certain modern, Western Christianity, as a philosophy, can offer adequate answers to your questions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there are countless “company lines”— even a few “out of the box” perspectives. But, ultimately, these noble ideals are hardly livable. So, I won’t patronize you by pretending there exists some spiritual formula or philosophical position that would make everything clear. I won’t mock your pain with that crap.
This probably isn’t the best forum for anything too involved. I’ll message you soon with some more personal thoughts. Still, allow me to “talk out” a few general feelings on the questions you raise here.
First, people (especially Western thinking, American type people) seem to desire, maybe even expect, God to grant us autonomy (which He has) and, at the same time, govern the choices of others— choices with the potential to cause us pain. If this weren’t enough, we also expect Him to recue us from the consequences of our own poor choices, whether we made them knowingly or see their folly in retrospect. When the fallout from decisions made is painful, it’s easy, maybe even our conditioned response, to hold God accountable. Where was He? Why didn’t He rescue me from this? Where is He now? What kind of love would allow me to endure such harm? It doesn’t make sense because it's not what we want love to be. But, should He take away our choice, our autonomy, we would immediately cry “foul.”
Religious systems often amount to lists of DOs and DON’Ts, rights and wrongs to help guide our choices. But, even if this worked (even if it weren’t just about avoiding guilt or feeling we’ve somehow earned God’s favor), what about the choices of others?
If someone poops in the swimming pool, we have limited options. We can get out. Game over. We can do our best to clean up the mess. We can swim around in it. What we CAN’T do is expect a miraculously poo-free, 10 foot radius around our corner of the pool just because we are not the one who did it or because we’re now sorry we did.
(continued)
Then, there are “natural disasters” like the one in Haiti. It would be easier for me, in a spirit of compassion, to say, “God be damned for the terrors inflicted upon humanity by His creation.” Why didn’t He just stop it from happening? Lives were at stake. But, the natural forces that led to this quake are not new or unexplored. Millions of residents and countless tourists the world over are thankful for the shifts in plates deep beneath the earth’s surface that formed the Caribbean Islands; the same shifts that resulted in this quake. We want creation to be completely at our disposal, for our pleasure—but who are we, at our will, to control it? Who are we to demand that God should respond to our will concerning creation? Lately, I’ve been learning to trade feelings of entitlement for an attitude of respect/awe for creation, and, in turn, Creator. Hell, I live on the San Andreas Fault. Wisdom and humility is required.
I’ll freely admit, I don’t often understand why He chooses certain moments of miraculous intervention into our story and not others. And, only He knows how many times He’s rescued humanity and we’ve never been the wiser. I do know I’m thankful for the times He’s kept me from or alleviated my pain. I can also say, looking back, I’m equally (if not in some cases more) thankful for the difficult things He’s allowed me to endure. Not just for the perspective they would inherently afford me, or the strength I might draw from the lessons learned, but because it is in these moments of desperation that I’ve come to know Him best. It’s in weakness that I draw closest to Him… not to a religious philosophy, but to the person of Jesus. It’s in human tragedy that the purest compassion and selflessness finds its true expression and identity (e.g. the outpouring of humanitarianism and unified global effort going on in Haiti at present). And, it‘s in the moments that God seems most distant that I learn how to find Him. In my life, He’s used the most difficult things to draw me close and to show me who He really is and, consequently (sometimes, unfortunately) reveal who I really am.
I know this isn’t particularly helpful. I hope the more personal thoughts to come will be less of a mere scratch to the surface. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I’m honored by your candor and resumed friendship.
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