Forgiveness

On Maundy Thursday, I had the privilege of partaking in a foot-washing.  The day began with me deciding to participate in another event that involved me walking around barefoot all day.  In the course of walking to classes, my feet had gotten pretty dirty by the time I arrived at the foot-washing service.  Whenever I have had my feet washed before, they have always been relatively clean.  However this time, I had the humbling task of presenting my dirty, disgusting, embarrassing feet to be handled by the unsuspecting man who led me to the wash basin.  Without a hint of remorse at having chosen me and my dirty feet to wash, he carefully and meticulously cared for my feet and made me clean again.  Afterwards, I was delighting in how clean and soft my feet were, how they still smelled like the soap, and how they seemed to be in perfect condition.  Excitedly I wondered if I could stay this way forever.    But suddenly it struck me that my shoes were out in my car and I would have to cross the parking lot with my newly cleaned feet.  I began trying to think up any and every way, whatever the cost, to get to my car without dirtying my feet again.  I was considering asking somebody to carry me out to the car; trying to figure out a way to wear my coat on my feet while maintaining the ability to walk, or even wondering if I had the necessary skills to walk across the parking lot on my hands.  I was willing to look foolish if I could just stay in that clean condition.

I wonder, if we truly understood the weight and depth of forgiveness, if we would be so quick to fall back into our old habits.  If I truly understood the extent to which God has forgiven me, would I be so quick to continue in my patterns of life that are harmful or destructive and build no one up?

I believe there are two primary problems.  First, we don't recognize how bad we truly are, how dirty our feet are.  I like to think of myself as a good person, but the more I realize how great God is and how little I give Him my full praise, thanks, and the glory that is due to Him, I begin to see more clearly the mud between my toes.  The second issue at stake is that we don't realize how clean we have been made in Christ.  When my feet were made perfect, I had this desire to keep them in that condition for as long as possible.  If we were aware that in forgiveness God removes our sins from us "as far as the east is from the west" (Psalm 103:12), we might work harder to not wander back to that place of sin.

In forgiveness, I ought to be so impressed with how new God has made me, that I begin to examine every aspect of my life, on guard against the things that will make me dirty again so that I might avoid them.

As Pastor David Choi once said, "Cheer up, you're not as bad as you think you are, you're worse."  Now rejoice and delight in how God in Christ through the Spirit has made you a new creation, separate from your sins - and with His help, you could stay this clean forever.

..."Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared.  "Go now and leave your life of sin." - John 8:11

"Not Our Voices But Our Lives Will Sing"

The other day I was talking with one of my friends, Leo, from the DR.  He was sharing how they are building a new church and that he is helping with the construction.  I asked if he was enjoying that and he responded with "I like doing anything I do for God."  I thought this was a pretty good answer and it got me thinking about the things we do for God.
     First off, are we really doing things for God, or just for ourselves?  What I mean is, when they pass the plate at church for a special offering or when there are signups for some sort of work day, are we actually participating for God, or for our own sake?  So that we can "check off" giving or serving on some sort of invisible checklist of spirituality.  Am I doing it just so that I'll feel better about myself?  Not to suggest that there is anything wrong with special offerings or work days, in fact they are good things, but what is our real motivation for participating?  Is it enough?
     And should I be able to compartmentalize my life into "things I do for God" over here, "things I do for myself" over here, and "things I just do" over there?  Shouldn't I do everything to the glory and honor of God?
     Okay, so if I'm working to do everything for God, how do I know whether I'm doing something for Him or for myself?  In the book Culture Making, by Andy Crouch, Crouch talks about discerning our calling by seeing where our work is being multiplied beyond our efforts, because then we know the Lord is in it.  God fills us with joy when we are following Him - it should not be burdensome.  In Matthew 11:30 Jesus says, "...my yoke is easy and my burden is light."  Not to suggest that we will never run into frustrations as followers of Christ, in fact Jesus even promises difficulties (Jn. 16:33), but the overwhelming message we see is average people like you and me gladly giving up everything to follow Jesus (Mt. 4:20, 22, Mk. 1:17-18, 2:14, Lk. 5:11, 28, Jn. 1:35-51) and celebrating in their times of difficulty (Acts 5:40-41, 1 Cor. 12:9-10, Jas. 1:2, Phil. 1:21).  We know God is using us and we are in the center of His will when our joy and efforts are multiplied beyond anything we could manage on our own.
     Mark Lewis, one of the directors of Arena Theater at Wheaton College, puts it another way.  He asks, "Does it sound like fun?  Does it seem like an adventure?"  This is an excellent way to look at it.  A couple of months ago Mark was collecting money to buy infant formula for an orphanage he was going to visit in Ethiopia.  When asking for the funds, he encouraged people to only donate if this seemed like an exciting opportunity, like something they wanted to be a part of.  He wasn't after people's money, but rather was inviting them to join in something greater than themselves.
     This is how we should look at "doing things for God."  Not as an obligation to be filled, but rather an opportunity to be part of something bigger than ourselves.  In Isaiah 29:13 "The Lord says: 'These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.  Their worship of me is made up only of rules taught by men.'"
     May we enjoy serving the Lord with our hearts, and may it never be a burdensome obligation.

Vamos!

An article I wrote for the Anthropology Department Newsletter, Culture and Society.

I spent this past semester in the Dominican Republic learning Spanish and working at a Women's Center.  Especially at the beginning of the semester, I would frequently find myself lost in conversations - not the kind of lost where time and place seem to fade away because I'm so intrigued with what the other person has to say, but the kind of lost where people are talking at me and I haven't a clue of what they are saying.  One of the most common and comical ways this would play out would be when my host mom would approach me and rattle off something in Spanish.  After a moment of staring blankly as my response, she would gesture and say "Vamos!" ("Let's go!") and I would know to get in the car.  I would then scamper into the backseat like a little kid without a clue as to where we were going or how long we might be gone.  I just knew an adventure was beginning and my mom would take care of me.  I think this is a lot like our walk with Christ.  We don't always understand what God is doing or where He is taking us, but we must trust the voice that calls to us, "Vamos!"  and rest in the knowledge that an adventure is beginning and He will take care of us.

Unfinished Business

Last night I was driving to a friend’s house who lives about 30 minutes away.  It was raining pretty hard, was dark, and almost impossible to see any lines on the road because the water and lights had turned it into a mirror.  Whenever cars approached from side streets, with their headlights shining into my car, I had this image of them not being able to stop and crashing into me.  I thought about how I could die or be horribly injured so easily and so quickly, when suddenly this great peace came over me that that would be okay.  It made me wonder if God was preparing me for something and I began to doubt that I would actually make it to my destination, but like I mentioned before, somehow none of this seemed concerning, just a simple matter of reality.

I began thinking about how I would feel about dying.  Not the actual act of dying, but more the status of all my relationships.  If I were to die without getting the chance to say anything more, would that be okay?  Would I have any regrets?

People often talk about living without regrets.  I don’t think that’s possible.  If you have ever done anything wrong, chances are you wish you hadn’t.  I have regrets, but I also have closure on them.  I decided a better question than, “Do I have regrets?” is “Do I have any unfinished business?”

If I were to die in this instance without the opportunity to say or do another thing, would I be okay with the way I left my relationships?  For instance, if I couldn’t say another word to my parents, I think that’d be okay.  They know that I love them; we are on good terms; I don’t think I’d be leaving them with any questions.  Other people, however, there might be questions:

Did she really care about me?

Was she upset with me or hurt by me?

Did she care or even know about how much she hurt me?

I don’t want to leave these questions unanswered for the people who would survive me. 

Rather than the question, “Would I have regrets?” I think it is better to ask ourselves, “Would I have unfinished business?”  At any moment our lives could be over and I think we might fear death less if we knew our “affairs were in order”, so to speak.

Let’s live without unfinished business.

Name Speaks of Relationship

This afternoon I received a letter in which my sister-in-law’s grandma asked me to call her “Nana.”  In an instant our relationship moved from the formality of a “Mrs. So-and-So relationship” to one more closely mirroring that of a grandmother and her grandchild.  Names are so much more than just a way to distinguish one person from another, as we might distinguish juice from milk, but they say something about the relationship between the speaker and the one who carries the name.

We see this in a myriad of ways.  While I love the fact that my dad calls me, “Pumpkin-Pumpkin,” I would feel uncomfortable if a professor were to address me in such a manner.  Our relationship does not warrant such familiarity.  Or even if a close friend, someone with whom I’m very familiar, called me “Pumpkin-Pumpkin” it would still be strange because that is not part of our relationship.  A number of my friend’s moms have become mother-like figures to me, and therefore I refer to them as such when I warmly greet them.  When a child finds an animal, or even an inanimate possession that they cannot keep, we do everything in our power to keep them from naming it because then they will become “attached.”  In the naming, a relationship is born, or at least taken to a new level.

In the play Eurydice, by Sarah Ruhl, Eurydice dies and is taken to the underworld.  In entering the underworld, her memory is wiped and she therefore forgets the names of everyone she once knew, thus erasing those relationships.  She meets her father in the underworld, but it isn’t until she can begin to relearn names that she rediscovers her relationships with him and those she has left behind.  At one point, Eurydice asks her father to tell her the names of her mother and brothers, but he refuses her, telling her it will make her too sad.  As it stands, she is not in relationship with her nameless family members, but merely knows of their relationship.  Without the names the relationships cannot exist to the same degree.

My uncle’s mother passed away today.  As I thought about the joyous reunion Jesus and Sharon must be having, I began to wonder what God calls us.  Does he call us by our proper names?  Do you think he has nicknames for us?  What would happen if I heard God say my name?

There isn’t really a conclusion to this.  In fact, this is quite rambling and lacking direction.  But today I suddenly became aware of the intimate links between name and relationship, and it fascinated me.

Morning

"If we were to learn again something of the praise and adoration that is due the triune God at break of day, God the Father and Creator, who has preserved our life through the dark night and wakened us to a new day, God the Son and Saviour, who conquered death and hell for us and dwells in our midst as Victor, God the Holy Spirit who pours the bright gleam of God's Word into our hearts at the dawn of day, driving away all darkness and sin and teaching us to pray aright - then we would also begin to sense something of the joy that comes when night is past and brethren who dwell together in unity come together early in the morning for common praise of their God, common hearing of the Word, and common prayer.  Morning does not belong to the individual, it belongs to the Church of the triune God, to the Christian family."

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together

Man a Nothing

O Lord,
I am a shell full of dust,
     but animated with an invisible rational soul
     and made anew by an unseen power of grace;
Yet I am no rare object of valuable price,
     but one that has nothing and is nothing,
     although chosen of thee from eternity,
          given to Christ, and born again;
I am deeply convinced of the evil and misery of a sinful state,
     of the vanity of creatures,
     but also of the sufficiency of Christ.
When thou wouldst guide me I control myself,
When thou wouldst be sovereign I rule myself.
When thou wouldst take care of me I suffice myself.
When I should depend on thy providings I supply myself,
When I should submit to thy providence I follow my will,
When I should study, love, honour, trust thee, I serve myself;
I fault and correct thy laws to suit myself,
Instead of thee I look to man's approbation,
     and am by nature an idolater.
Lord, it is my chief design to bring my heart back to thee.
Convince me that I cannot be my own god, or make myself happy,
     nor my own Christ to restore my joy,
     nor my own Spirit to teach, guide, rule me.
Help me to see that grace does this by providential affliction,
     for when my credit is god thou dost cast me lower,
     when riches are my idol thou dost wing them away,
     when pleasure is my all thou dost turn it into bitterness.
Take away my roving eye, curious ear, greedy appetite, lustful heart;
Show me that none of these things can heal a wounded conscience,
     or support a tottering frame,
     or uphold a departing spirit.
Then take me to the cross and leave me there.

From The Valley of Vision - A collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions