Questions

Do I take comfort in the knowledge that Christ is my savior, or do I take comfort in Christ, my savior?
Do I claim grace or do I receive grace?
Do I live to be known or do I live to know?
Do I love to be loved or do I love to love?
Do I love my ideas about Jesus or do I love Jesus?
Do I know a Jesus or do I love the Jesus?
Is Christ in my life or is Christ my life?

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

All I knew of Chesterton before reading Orthodoxy was that he was the source of a number of pithy quotes.

For instance, one of my favorites: "Going to church no more makes you a Christian than standing in a garage makes you a car."

After reading Orthodoxy, it is clear to me that Chesterton was brilliant. He cuts masterfully through truisms and arguments of the time pointing out time and again how people don't really mean what they are saying, or what they are saying is not really what they mean. Unfortunately, Orthodoxy as a work does not live up to Chesterton's genius. Chesterton himself calls the book "chaotic." Of course, there is some authenticity in this chaos. Orthodoxy is an intellectual autobiography of sorts tracing Chesterton's shift from agnosticism to Christianity. He discovered, to his surprise, that they mysteries and functionings of the world were explained not by any of the modern heresies but rather by the seemingly antiquated Orthodoxy. His argument is not always coherent and at times makes one desire for more nuance, but we most take it for what it is. Orthodoxy is not a work of apologetics, but rather an outpouring of all Chesterton's thoughts on the modern world and Christianity. The book as a whole probably will not change your life, but oh how some the selections will make you think!

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"Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea; reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite. The result is mental exhaustion... to accept everything is an exercise, to understand everything a strain. The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits."
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"Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; but (unlike the agnostic of to-day) free also to believe in them. He has always cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them... The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand."
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"there had come into my mind a vague and vast impression that in some way all good was a remnant to be stored and held sacred out of some primordial ruin. Man had saved his good as Crusoe saved his goods: he had saved them from a wreck."
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"what we need is not the cold acceptance of the world as a compromise, but some way in which we can heartily hate and heartily love it. We do not want joy and anger to neutralize each other and produce a surly contentment; we want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent. We have to feel the universe at once as an ogre's castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return at evening. No one doubts that an ordinary man can get on with this world: but we demand not strength enough to get on with it, but strength enough to get it on. Can he hate it enough to change it, and yet love it enough to think it worth changing?"
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"[Christianity] not only goes right about things, but it goes wrong (if one may say so) where the things go wrong. Its plan suits the secret irregularities, and expects the unexpected. It is simple about simple truth; but it is stubborn about the subtle truth."
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"Christianity thus held a thought of the dignity of man that could only be expressed in crowns rayed like the sun and fans of peacock plumage. Yet at the same time it could hold a thought about the abject smallness of man that could only be expressed in fasting and fantastic submission... One can hardly think too little of one's self. One can hardly think too much of one's soul."
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"The criminal we must forgive unto seventy times seven. The crime we must not forgive at all. It was not enough that slaves who stole wine inspired partly anger and partly kindness. We must be much more angry with theft than before, and yet much kinder to thieves than before. There was room for wrath and love to run wild."
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"People have fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of orthodoxy as something heavy, humdrum, and safe. There never was anything so perilous or so exciting as orthodoxy. It was sanity: and to be sane is more dramatic than to be mad. It was the equilibrium of a man behind madly rushing horses, seeming to stoop this way and to sway that, yet in every attitude having the grace and statuary and the accuracy of arithmetic. The Church in its early days went fierce and fast with any warhorse..."
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To the orthodox there must always be a case for revolution; for in the hearts of men God has been put under the feet of Satan. In the upper world hell once rebelled against heaven. but in this world heaven is rebelling against hell. For the orthodox ther can always be a revolution; for a revolution is restoration. At any instant you may strike a blow for the perfection which no many has seen since Adam."
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"The mere minimum of the Church would be a deadly ultimatum to the world. For the whole modern world is  absolutely based on the assumption, not that the rich are necessary (which is tenable), but that the rirch are trustworthy, which (for a Christian) is not tenable."
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"Plato has told you a truth; but Plato is dead. Shakespeare has startled you with an image; but Shakespeare will not startle you with any more. But imagine what it would be to live with such men still living, to know that Plato might break out with an original lecture tomorrow, or that at any moment Shakespeare might shatter everything with a single song. The man who lives in contact with what he believes to be a living Church is a man always expecting to meet Plato and Shakespeare to-morrow at breakfast. He is always expecting to see some truth that he has never seen before."
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"Orthodoxy makes us jump by the sudden brink of hell; it is only afterwards that we realise that jumping was an athletic exercise highly beneficial to our health. it is only afterwards that we realise danger is the root of all drama and romance. The strongest argument for divine grace is simply its ungraciousness."

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Creativity and Love

Within us all is the desire to create. The desire to express ourselves. We seek beauty. We wish we could stand upon the mountaintops and scream to all the nations the truth we know. We dance, sing, paint, write, film, speak, and move. We dream.

We want to pour out all that is in us and make something more.

But most of us never do.

We think creativity is the artist’s task. But I think a central part of our human identity is in our creativity.

It is the artist’s task to make us realize that we are all creators. Art is to be more than admired; it must inspire. In the masterworks, I see the creative spirit fully employed, pressed to the single task of creating a work greater than the worker. This creative spirit is central to all human life. I will never paint a masterpiece, but I can fully employ the creativity gifted to me in order to thrive.

I consider a life worth living to be a life following God. To follow God requires using all the creativity within us that He has given to us. Christ tells us that following God essentially comes down to loving Him, and loving other people. Simple right? Well, how do we do that? I hold that love is the ultimate creative act.

Without imagination and creativity there can be no true love. Love requires us to see that our good is tied to others’ good. To see that we gain through giving. To shift our focus outward is a work of art. Love asks us to look beyond how things are to how things might be. I think that love should not be a reactive feeling but a proactive pursuit carried out in hope. Love brings hope to reality. For the current reality is certainly not one of hope and love. We live in times of despair, angst, and outrage. We distrust our leaders; we distrust each other. I think we need not more leadership, but love. But to love in these times will take the utmost of our creative spirit. May we all imagine a world put to right and use our creative gifts to bring it about.

Thanksgiving

I have so much to be thankful for: a supportive family... friends who have become my family here... food (especially when it is free)... the freedom to adventure, to play, to try new things... unexpected opportunities... even work and school are a joy to me...

And this Thanksgiving is sure to be full of family and food, as it should be, yet it will not quite be full. This will be my first Thanksgiving without my grandfather.

Saturday, the waves beat steadily against the ferry as my family headed out to Whidbey Island. As we drove to the church, I looked out at the trees passing by and watched the last of the leaves gently give themselves to the wind. We gathered in the foyer as the rain pattered outside. We gathered in the strange celebration that is grief, tears welling at the pain of loss, yes, but more in a wonder and thankfulness for the gift of life, and for a life fully lived.

My grandpa was the most incredibly gentle man. I never saw him angry. He was not a man of many words, but his presence would warm a room. He always greeted me with a broad smile and made me feel so wonderfully loved. And I know he made so many others feel loved as well. Saturday, I sat with tears flowing as I listened to my dad and his brothers, my grandfather’s sons, as they told of their father, the love he had for them, and how he helped to make them who they are today, and I saw how he helped make me who I am today.

I am thankful for my grandfather and how he showed me how to live gently in a world of tumult, to work hard, to live fully no matter the circumstances, and to love the person in front of you no matter who they are. And I am thankful for our God who made him so. I am thankful for our God who enters into our grief.

We have as the symbol of our faith the cross. It is a symbol of loss, Christ understands our suffering; he welcomes our tears. But the cross is also a symbol of hope; we know the rest of the story.

So, I cried plenty Saturday morning, but I did not despair. That night, my whole family gathered with my grandma, with Grandpa Dick on all our minds, we ate and drank, and we laughed. Then the call went up for my dad and uncles to lead a song. Apparently, when they were boys, my grandpa would sing to them this little piece of nonsense "The Horses Run Around." Lyrics were printed off, and so in our grief and in our joy we all sang these ridiculous lines: "Oh, the horses run around, their feet are on the ground; Oh, who will wind the clock while I'm away, away?" And I am thankful for I know that our God was right there crying, laughing, and singing right along. 

1 Corinthians 13

We love 1 Corinthians 13.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

How wonderful is love. How often I have heard these verses. I, too, love them and often come back to them. How encouraging it is that love counters all that is dark. We see how love counters that within us that we try to hide away. We see the beauty of love.

"Love never fails."

We quote in triumph.We are reassured. And it is true, love is triumphiant, love overcomes the darkness, love is beautiful, love never fails.

But how often we fail to love. O how often I fail to love. I am not reassured. I am not comforted. I am convicted.

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing."

I may speak in the very same language as the angels, I may perceive the very truth of God, I may have a faith as strong as Abraham's, I may serve others with all that I am even to the point of utmost suffering, but if I do not have love, it is all for naught. Everything I know and everything I do is of no consquence if I do not possess that mysterious and abundant love of God.

Yet, how do we love? How do I, with all my being and all my actions, serve God and people? How do I let love permeate my entire existence? I am convinced that I will only love as I am overwhelmed by God's love. I will only love as I stand in the unalterable grace of God and it let it transform me. Often, I focus on what I am doing, but it is clear that I can do the best things in the world, but it really doesn't matter that much if those actions are not an outpouring of love. That is not to say that I shouldn't strive to speak as the angels do, to trust as Abraham trusted, and to serve others to my dying day; all these things are on Christ's Way. But I must recognize that they are not the end. The end is love. The end is restoration of God's fullness of being in relationship to all creation in an infinitely divine and mysterious love that is continually poured out, received and poured out again.

Meditation #3: Joy

"Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy." 1 Peter 1:8

Joy rests not in us, but in Him. It is a fruit of the Spirit, an outpouring received. We do not rejoice in our own strength, rather we rejoice in the Lord. It is not in our power to grasp joy for it is a divine mystery that dwells in the most unusual of places.

The darkness swells, but it cannot overcome the light. Joy persists. The darkness, the looming cloud, despair, brokenness, the whelming flood, all that comes in the night, all bitterness, all fear, all doubt, all that impending doom that these words seem only to grasp, all of that cannot even comprehend the light. Joy comes at the revelation of this light. Joy comes at the revelation of the darkness as only shadows, dark yes, but of no substance. Joy is freedom.

Joy need not be giddy happiness, but neither need it be resignation. It is perception. It is vision of what has been, what is, and what will be without seeing. It is submission to that invisible vision and to the One who created all. In that submission comes freedom from having to understand and the freedom of trust, of letting go. And in that freedom comes joy.

A Poem From Two Years Ago

Into the Grave

cursed, cursed

saved, saved

we are cursed

we are saved

destined to die

brought back to life

falling into the grave

rising into the skies

into the flames

into the sun

hopeless

hopeful

and abandoned

and taken in

we cry out

we cry out

but our voices sink

and our voices lift

down into the depths

up through the clouds

soon to be our home

soon to be our home

prepared for us

prepared for us

by the darkness

by the light

that consumes

that consumes

cursed, cursed

saved, saved

we are cursed

we are saved

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I wrote that 1 year 364 days ago. Funny that it should come to me now. I wanted to be a poet once, but I realized I never would be. Now I see, that it was only at that realization that my poetry stopped. I stopped expressing and started analyzing. I was a poet as long as I didn't worry whether I was one or not. 

It is time to pick up the pen again not to create something new of value but to let go of something trapped within. 

Lord, Free Me from Myself

I am free from Facebook, but I am not free from myself.

Eliminating Facebook has helped to bring more clarity to my life. I did not realize how weighed down I was until I had the bonds cut loose. Yet, I have also seen in this newfound clarity, that Facebook was/is not the root of the issue. Facebook is not in and of itself evil. It can be used graciously and lovingly, but it brought out the worst in me. That sentence is very telling: it brought out the worst in me.

Facebook isn’t my problem. Sin is my problem. Facebook was merely a space in which my sinful nature rose to the fore.  Facebook exacerbated my laziness, fears, pride, jealousy, judgment, distrust and self-absorption but in a seemingly harmless guise. I got caught up in a false reality, and I did not see how sin was taking a hold of me. I needed to get rid of Facebook, but now with it gone I see that what I really need to be rid of is laziness, fears, pride, jealousy, judgment, distrust, and self-absorption.

I cannot free myself from these things. It is only by the grace of God, and Christ working through the Spirit in me that I will be made free.  Of course, that doesn’t mean I do nothing. I must continually seek the divine mystery of grace in faith. I ask for grace even in the seeking of that grace. I try to walk forward, stumbling and haltingly, but ever forward toward Christ. For my freedom will come not in deleting an online account but in pursuing an authentic relationship with God, and his Sprit is poured out on me.

Christ, live within me and vanquish my sinful nature. Thank you for your unalterable grace in which I stand as You have poured out your love on me. I want to be freed of all that keeps me from you. I want to draw near to you. Lord, free me from myself. 

Facebook Free

After four years of usage, 440 or so “friends” made, 100+ photo albums created, dozens of events hosted, and innumerable inane status updates posted, I have deactivated my Facebook. It was with much grief that I said goodbye to countless CastleVille requests, Christian Mingle side-bar ads, and the ability to wish people I wouldn’t recognize in person “happy birthday!” There is one less Scott Jackson out there on the interwebs. I am Facebook free.

Of course, there are aspects of Facebook I really do miss. I enjoyed knowing what my friends from back home are up to, and I even occasionally interacted with them beyond just stalking. I planned and went to my fair share of events. I miss the ability to share and comment on photos that hold so many fond memories. And, really, who doesn’t cherish the ability to instantly garner an audience of potentially hundreds for any thought that pops into your head?

Facebook is an incredibly powerful forum for communication and connection. Officially, over one billion people now use the online service. Facebook has become a prime symbol for globalization envisioning a world in which we all are connected. At its best, Facebook serves as a platform for creative expression, reconnection, dialogue, collective action, encouragement, organization and humor. Facebook can be an imaginative tool for interaction and sharing life together.

But it was killing me. Every time I logged onto Facebook, I felt the life slowly sucked out of me. I couldn’t handle it. Despite all the supposed and real benefits mentioned above, I ultimately concluded that on the whole Facebook was detrimental for my academic, social, emotional and spiritual health.

  Facebook is a huge time waster. Just going on for a short homework break inevitably turned into going through every new status update, creeping through peoples’ photos, or just staring blankly at the page hitting refresh.

I found myself living for that little red flag in the upper left. My self-worth became equated with the number that flag contained. All I wanted on Facebook was to be “liked.” I wanted to be loved, admired, pitied; everything was about me. I carefully crafted every comment, post, subtitle, and event in order to gain attention. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to constantly be self-seeking, but I couldn’t stop.

            Facebook brought out the worst in me. I became jealous, callous and judgmental. Sitting in my room by myself, it seemed like everyone else was out having a grand time. When others rejoiced, I did not celebrate with them. And when others suffered, I did not empathize with them. Facebook was not about caring for people but for gaining juicy new pieces of information. I passed judgment on the whole character of a person based on mere hundreds of characters posted online.

            Facebook isn’t real. It’s a game. It’s a social front. My Facebook profile was a construction of my imagination rooted in how I wanted others to perceive me and designed to hide my fears, anxieties and weaknesses.  Facebook did not reflect my story, and it hindered me from caring about other people and their story. 

For my own sanity, I needed to get rid of it. Yet, I think, Facebook can be redeemed. I think Facebook can be used to love on other people, to share the joys and sorrows in life, and to connect with people in real life. But, I think, I am probably not the only one for whom Facebook has been more life-draining than life-giving. If Facebook is a burden in your life, let it go for a time. Be set free.