Excellence
Colossians 3:23 – Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.
When Logan asked me to pray about this for him, I suddenly began to realize the ramifications of such a verse.
When he is setting up a New Year’s Eve party, he’s not doing it for a bunch of kids, but for the King of the Universe.
When I’m cleaning up my house, I’m not doing it for the company who is coming up later, but for the Lover of my heart.
When I’m writing a blog post, I’m not doing it for myself or for viewers out there, but for an audience of One.
Hmmm…
Matthew 5 – Being Good
I’ve read it a dozen times. I’ve heard sermons on it. Heck, I’ve even memorized it. So when I read it again this afternoon, it was definitely a surface level reading, as though I were so familiar with it’s depths that I didn’t even need to go down there.
So I began to pray about it. It was spoke by Jesus, who was sent here to reveal to us who God is. So what were these words saying about God? God said, “Do not murder,” but here Jesus was saying, “Do not be angry with your brother”.
I thought of Jesus, of the beauty and rightness of his character. I thought of the things he was saying directly about God in this sermon. About how God shows no favortism, how he fulfills his promises, how he has power like we could not even dream and so we better not imagine we have it. God has been revealing himself to us all along. How could we presume to think that when God said, “Do not murder” that this was all he wanted to happen. He didn’t say that we shouldn’t murder just because he didn’t want a whole bunch of dead bodies lying around. He didn’t want murder because he wanted us to love each other. Because he loves all of us. Same with adultery. Was it just the physical act of sex that he was trying to oppress? No, he wanted men to stop looking at women as pieces of meat. He wanted men to see them as a person, a friend, a companion.
God is good. We are not. But if we want to be like God, we must be.
What’s In the West Wing?
In his blog creativityist.com, John Chandler reminded me of a few quotes from Anne Lamott’s fabulous book Bird by Bird:
If something inside you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Don’t worry about appearing sentimental. Worry about being unavailable; worry about being absent or fraudulent. Risk being unliked. Tell the truth as you understand it. If you’re a writer you have a moral obligation to do this. And it is a revolutionary act–truth is always subversive.
We write to expose the unexposed. If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. Otherwise, you’ll just be rearranging furniture in rooms you’ve already been in. Most human beings are dedicated to keeping that one door shut. But the writer’s job is to see what’s behind it, to see the bleak unspeakable stuff, and to turn the unspeakable into words–not just into any words but if we can, into rhythm and blues.
It reminded me of the scene in Beauty and the Beast when the Beast orders Belle not to enter the West Wing.
In a couple of recent blog posts and my latest essay, I’ve really struggled with revealing my true feelings, wondering if they would be too offensive or how they would effect my relationships with people.
I think I need to start venturing into the West Wing.
Frightening
Today I was running on the Clark Trail. (As opposed to the Lewis Trail.) I had been on a steady incline, and upon reaching the top, I found myself on a towering bluff above the Missouri River. The water ran wide and murky, flecks of white debris rushing down stream. I thought about how the prophets and poets often compared God’s power and our own powerlessness to water. We cannot stop it’s crushing force and yet with one word from God, the water is controlled. I tried to imagine, as I looked down on the wide river, what it must have been like huddling fearfully at the water’s edge with the Egyptian army at my back, knowing that I could never step into that water without being swept away. And then a wind begins to blow, a blistering wind that whips the water and then pounds it back on either side of a path that starts right at my feet. Then, ages of mud begins to dry, providing a way for me to cross easily and quickly. I tried to imagine what the form of God must have looked like at that time. Could I see a majestic face, lips pursed to blow back the sea, or did God take the form of the wind itself, or was the wind only his messenger? It didn’t matter, it was God who had provided a way for me through something I could have never survived. And then, he used the very path that had saved me to destroy my enemies behind me.
That’s when it occured to me. God destroyed the Israelite’s enemies. He will destroy mine. He is willing to destroy the enemies of his children. He is on my side. That’s why he is called Protector, Father, Shield. He puts himself against those who are against me and fights for me.
I felt so cherished, so important to God. Undeservedly so. Why should someone else be fought against by God or be destroyed only because they are against me? But I guess that’s what God’s love is like. It is fierce, it is real, it is practical, and it is ravishing.
Frightening.
Impatience
Today I told Logan that I wish I didn’t have to work but could still get paid.
He said, “Why don’t you publish your book?”
I said that wasn’t nice.
But I also decided I was tired of waiting for someone else to publish my writings and would just do it myself.
