February, 2010

faith / general — 1 Comment
24
Feb 10

lent

It is always slightly peculiar when anyone asks me, “What are you giving up for Lent?”

I’ve been religious at various points in my life in the truest sense of the word, but never that religious. In small-town Newfoundland, Lent was always perceived as a Catholic tradition and as a good protestant boy, I protested it by simply ignoring it.  It’s never been something that I’ve understood well if at all from either an historical or a practical perspective.

There have been Easter seasons that I’ve attempted to do this, though none so striking that I actual remember which of my vices I denied myself of.  I seem to recall giving up soda or pop or Coke (my attempt to be geographically sensitive here) though never having been a connoisseur  of these sugary tonics this denial came ripe with built-in success.  I understand that this can be a struggle for some people, who are as hopelessly addicted to the stuff as I am to the java.  Surely at some point during my pious college years there were other things: fast-food is coming to mind but has only slightly less built-in success than soda (and then, only because of my then college-student status).

And here I am again happily adrift through another lenten season with no plan of organized self-denial.  It’s not that I don’t see the value.  The value is incredible.  Self-denial is a discipline practiced by maybe 0.00000343% of the world’s population (that number MAY be inaccuate – i.e. a complete fabrication).  Lent has the potential to be an amazing expression of incredible faith and trust.

It also has the potential to be self-aggrandizing, ego-buildling wish-wash.

Let’s be honest with one another: most of the people that we know that practice Lent do it not for any religious observance or because of their desire to fast alongside Jesus in the desert for 40 days in preparation for ministry.  No, instead it’s to see if we can actually survive the withdrawal of caffeine or the dangerously low levels of blood sugar that we’re bound to experience.  And the self-aggrandizing bit: that’s about proving to yourself and others that you, against all odds,  can actually drive PAST Starbucks on the way to and maybe from work.  It’s building up the ego.  It’s blatant self-promotion in the face of subtle self-denial.

Perhaps our lives should be about self-denial every day.  Perhaps there is enough to go around if we’re reasonable and generous.  Just maybe we can help somebody get back on their feet and we can possibly be satisfied with a 32″ LCD instead of a 42″.

I realize this may not be your thing.

Given that Lent ought to be about preparing for something new – reminiscent of Jesus’ preparing for three years of ministry – perhaps we can revisit this season with that spirit.  Jesus didn’t go to the desert to avoid drive-thrus and biggie sized fries.  He prepared to present the greatest “message” of all time to a people that were beaten down by oppressors.

It’s an incredibly different environment from what WE live in.

How will you take the next few days (it doesn’t need to be 40 – you won’t lose credit) to prepare yourself for a new part of life?  Maybe it’s time to think about what the next step is.  Maybe the old is done.

I’ve got a low-grade aversion to people – people in small doses are fine but in general they find ways to annoy or irritate me. If Lent is about denial, then why not deny ourselves the easy way out – take the long hard road through the desert instead of substituting iced tea (or sweet tea) for soda.

I want to face my fears and my aversions instead whim-ping out.  I want to deny myself the option of using the self check out at the grocery store and instead place myself squarely in the vulnerable position of having a conversation with an unknown human.  I want to deny myself the opportunity to stay silent and speak up and ACT up when people are being treated with injustice.  I want to deny myself the opportunity to passively-aggressively share my views and engage in actual dialogue.

Lent this year is much different.  It’s not denying myself of something.  It’s denying myself of self.

faith / general — 3 Comments
20
Feb 10

baritone

I used to lead worship.

That is, I used to pick up a guitar and sing songs in front of people with the hope that these acts would, in supernatural way, aid in making a connection with some heavenly being.

I do not have any evidence that this effect was ever realized.

What I do have is plenty of instances where the less tolerant worshippers would fold their arms and refuse to let the silky strains of my every melodic utterance work the righteous miracles on their hearts that they so badly needed. And it’s quite damaging to ones ego and/or self respect. Could it possibly be that what I believed to be my tonality-touting, rich, baritone voice was more accurately described with words like nasally, infuriating, grating, or irksome.

“Thank you, Desmond, for those infuriating moments of connection with the Savior of the world.” I imagine them saying as they left the sanctuary better suited to live like Jesus.

Seeing men and women fold their arms rather than engage with worship did not infuriate or anger me. Instead, I remember thinking how sorry I felt for them missing an opportunity for connection. It would be dishonest of me to say that this very thing did not damage my own level of confidence to a certain degree. I cannot think of a time since when I eagerly subjected myself to the judgement of others by standing in front of them with nothing but my guitar and a voice.

It would also be misleading for me not to disclose that, in my admittedly long list of issues with what we’ve traditionally called “church” life, issues like these cynical and cold receptions rank fairly high.

And, yet sometimes I wonder in some ironic twist of fate and peer-pressure if these attitudes, conceptions, and notions aren’t the very things that cause me to huff and puff and rant about why I have no time for “church” as it’s understood to be. In my cosmic pew, I am crossing my arms or, better yet, surveying the exits for my chance for a bathroom break.

I should be very clear here. The word “church” is an automatic aversion to me. I’m playing this Sunday at a church to help out a friend but it will take every ounce of self-control not to huff and puff and heckle from the back row. It is not because I don’t believe that Jesus is who he said he was, its because I don’t believe that we’re who we say we are as Christians. I think Christians have little resemblance to Christ – and my default position is skepticism and cynicism.

I wonder if it’s these examples that I’ve lived or my resentment that has made me this way. I wonder why, if I believe that they were the ones missing out, why I’m the one that now rejects opportunities to lead worship gatherings.

Confidence is an interesting thing. At 30, I’m I feel like I’m only now becoming comfortable enough in my skin to speak with any kind of assertiveness or courage. Even then, these times seem to be at least as much the exception as the rule.

I hope my feelings towards church are not rooted in cynicism. I do not want to be the man with his arms folded and brow furrowed in disgust. He’s repulsive to me. He represents a complete antithesis from Christ – the ultimate in self-absorption and selfishness. He worships his creator the way that he best sees fit and everybody else is wrong.

Which, for someone with my convictions, is a possibility that we can sink into. We can easily become prideful and tout our tolerance and acceptance with the same stubbornness.

Even though I don’t see eye-to-eye with the church about the way business is done it’s important for me to struggle to see the good. I’ve dwelt on the bad for a long time – that’s no great accomplishment. I still want to be one that finds the good and celebrates it.

But it’s difficult.

It’s as difficult as getting back up, warming up the old baritone voice box, and bursting out with free-spirited song.

general — Comments Off
15
Feb 10

reality

New post called “reality” up at the equitas blog. Check it out here.

general — Comments Off
7
Feb 10

accomplishment

Most days in most cities in this country, people are driven to accomplish.  For many, a successful person is one who has risen to the top of the proverbial food chain, whose salary now is substantially more than it was “back then”, who has purchased a house, and who has well-adjusted and responsible children.  In this country, this is further heightened by our incredibly toxic tendency towards individualism: “I (an individual) have accomplished (of my own accord) some incredible things.”

What is incredibly telling about the whole thing is that we seem to despise more of the process of achieving this success.  We trudge unwillingly to work most mornings, we fight traffic, we battle deadlines and duke it up for the best positioning on the corporate ladder.

For some reason, at least for part our lives, we’re told to believe that this is the way it is.

I have a friend who often says that he hears that “some people go to work every day and actually enjoy what they do.”

Why are we burdened by these processes? Why do we hate them?

In a cultural coup d’état this same angst, permeates all of the passages of our lives.  Whether we’re fighting traffic on the way to the park, or anxiously awaiting news about a potential raise, or dreading the “travelling” in travelling home during the holidays, or trying to shed a bad habit, our minds are transfixed on outcome, on accomplishment.

When you’re scanning the horizon, you’re bound to miss incredible details right in your path.

I recently watched (for the nth time) a talk on TED.com by Adam Savage, the Mythbuster.  In this video, Savage talks about two of the obsessions of his life as a creative model maker.  First, an obsession with the legendary Dodo bird and acquiring by any means possible a replica of the Dodo skeleton and, secondly (and perhaps even more obsessive), a quest for an as-accurate-as-possible replica of the Maltese Falcon as described in Dashiell Hammett’s book of the same name.

Savage recounts spending countless hours, and resources, and finances, and brain power pursuing these projects – completely obsessed with building the perfect models.

Only, as he wraps up his talk, he comes to the realization that the “accomplishments” never were what these projects were about. Quite the contrary – for Savage it’s the pursuit.

It is the pursuit that teaches lessons about living, that stretches the mind and the soul, and that finally wins the hearts of our desired.  It is the pursuit that we remember, that we value.

Accomplishments, then, are merely milestones in a perpetual pursuit – temporary targets that have our attention only for a short while until the pursuit brings us to a new place.

And this is why there ought to be no end to the pursuit – because there is also something more enriching, more worthy of the chase and the effort.  This is also why when we stop pursuing these milestones begin to crack and disintegrate.

Marriages go unfulfilled when we are not continually pursuing our spouses.  When we feel as though we’ve reached some goal, when we feel vows are simply eternal in and of themselves, what was once love begins to wane.

Self-confidence begins to fail when our career pursuits become stagnant.  When we’re in a place that we don’t want to be, when we see no way out, it’s so easy to sit and wallow in self-deprecating despair.  But it’s the pursuit of something different, something new, something better, that renews our energy.

Crave the pursuit.  Value the pursuit.  Keep an eye for these milestones that we all have and that we all aspire to, but seize the moments of every day to learn from the processes of our lives, the journeys.

Because pursuit is what it is all about.

general / goals — Comments Off
4
Feb 10

goal two

It’s been a while but I need to outline my second major goal for twenty ten.

By the end of this year, I will have outlined and starting working on a book.  The topic is still very much uncertain. How I will convince somebody to actually publish this yet-to-be-conceived work is not even on my radar.

But, by the end of 2010 I will have an “outline” – not just in my head – but on paper – and will have begun the writing process.

This has been on my mind literally for years.  I sat in a leadership session once being led by McNair Wilson and during one of the activities he directed everyone in the room to write down something that they had always wanted to do but was either too afraid, or too uncertain, or too nervous to do.

I wrote (and I still have the notebook to back this up!) “Write a book.”

Other than that, at this point, I don’t have anything to share except that this blog is a part of that process – that sitting and writing – sometimes forcefully so – is critical to the completion of this goal.

So, just one month into this new year, thanks for humoring me and please stick around to see what happens next.