Shaking off the Monxiety Monkey

Anxiety is no longer an acceptable “residence” for me. I know there will be anxious moments in my life and I won’t ignore that fact. But I feel like I’ve seen enough of God’s faithfulness in His promises to carry me through MOST difficulties. I believe I understand that even if the worst happens in my life that God’s love for me is not nullified. Though I’ll admit I’ve lived a pretty cushy existence to date. So I guess we’ll see what happens when the rubber meets the road. But what I HAVE experienced has only shown God’s care and intentionality even in the dark seasons.

There have been a few moments of clarity in life in which I’ve decided to move past a certain emotional response like anxiety. A couple years ago, I decided not to yield to my fear of people. I have written in caps, “I will not be afraid,” across a page in my bible. Did it work? Well, sort of. I’m still a petrified people-pleaser. But I’ve put myself in an increasing number of situations in the last couple years where I’ve had to swallow my fear. That’s felt good.

So I’m hopeful that this resolution that came out of a meeting last month with pastor Dan will keep bearing fruit in my heart. I realized that God has always provided for me and there’s no logical reason for me to believe that He will stop providing. (To be fair, I’m also coming to term with the fact that “provision” doesn’t always mean, “cushion” and I’m okay with that because I trust His character.) That resolution has already saved me from dwelling in anxiety on several occasions since then. When I feel it cropping up, I’m newly empowered to shake my head and dismiss it as ridiculous. Even today, I’m shaking off money anxiety (“monxiety??”) as I try to go to church not asking, “who will support me?” But rather, “who can I love?”  It seems juvenile for me to spend whole days at this point doubting the Father over money when he’s always given us food and shelter (and fun-money to boot)!

So I’m hopeful: Hopeful that the experience of relief from financial anxiety will also bring relief in other areas of anxiety in my life. My marriage, my ministry, my sense of purpose and identity…. They could all use a little rest from the strain of anxiety.

Dear Russian: who are you?

Over the course of my blogging career, I’ve had at least one anonymous person in Russia following me faithfully. In fact, I have more hits from Russia than from any other country outside the United States. I find that interesting because about a month ago, God put the city of St. Petersburg on my heart. I’ve never cared for Russia as a destination or a place of ministry. There is very little there that has captured my attention (all of my attention being so fully consumed by the great continent of Africa). But similar God-nudges  have changed the course of my life before (my trip to Atlanta which introduced me to WDA being the prime example).

So I’m making it my ambition to visit the city of St. Petersburg somehow in the not-too-distant future. I may have my chance on one end of an upcoming teaching trip to the Congo in August. We’ll see. Whatever the case, I’d like to see if there is more to this nudgey feeling than a random magnetism toward the frozen North or a hankering for borsch.  

So my dear unknown Russian: if any of this strikes you as curious or beautiful or plain freaky, I think we should talk. Shoot me a message, eh? Мы должны говорить.

Unzenny thoughts from a wannabe monk

I suppose I’m kind of a mystic. Highly spiritual, inclined toward superstition. I’ve been that way since elementary school. As a kid, I remember some highly compulsive praying, bible reading, even tithing (I once gave my whole quarter jar to a random cause because the Mood struck). Around Jr. High, I became enamored of “deep thoughts” and fancied that I was the only one who had them. I see depth and significance even where there is none. I lack the natural talent for bringing life out of the stratosphere and into the day-to-day. I would suck at business. Of course some of my favorite people are the earthy, refreshingly-honest ones who can laugh at themselves. (Here’s lookin’ at you, Lisa Ernster.)

Recently I’ve been thinking about my spiritual goals in pursuing daily hang-out time with Jesus. I’m chewing on a statement from my last blog post: “my relationship with Jesus sometimes looked more like a meditative quest for self-betterment than an actual relationship.” Sure enough. I think part of what I’m looking for in these daily times is a feeling of tranquility…. Spiritual Zen to start my day…. Which, when I think of it that way, makes me laugh. Truth is, life isn’t all that "zenny" to begin with. It’s not meant to be. It’s full of complex feelings and situations for which emotional detachment is unhelpful at best.

I was reading Habakkuk 3: a prayer against the enemies of Israel. I was pretty struck (again) with the tumult and violence of his imagery. Then again… Habakkuk didn’t live in the suburbs. He didn’t wake up and drink coffee each morning in on a brown leather couch. And I imagine he wasn’t a just-think-happy-thoughts kind of guy. Why should he be? He lived in a time of political turmoil and daily physical insecurity.

I imagine gentile armies advancing against sinful Jerusalem much like imagine the Visigoths cresting the hill over Rome: vast barbarian hoards bringing the worst that war has to offer. And Habakkuk prays:

² LORD, I have heard of your fame;
   I stand in awe of your deeds, LORD.
Repeat them in our day,
   in our time make them known;
   in wrath remember mercy.

The enemy advances. In my mind (for some reason), they lurch like orcs… or zombies….

⁵ Plague went before [God];
   pestilence followed his steps.
⁶ He stood, and shook the earth;
   he looked, and made the nations tremble.

Terror spreads through the city as siege ramps are built outside.

¹⁰ the mountains saw you and writhed.
Torrents of water swept by;
   the deep roared
   and lifted its waves on high.

The gates are breached and the enemy of God’s chosen people rush in to conquer and plunder.

 ¹⁶ I heard and my heart pounded,
   my lips quivered at the sound;
decay crept into my bones,
   and my legs trembled.
Yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity
   to come on the nation invading us.

Habakkuk watches as soldiers rush past his window creating panic and destruction throughout the city. He feels keenly the uncertainty of his life.

¹⁸ yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
   I will be joyful in God my Savior.

 ¹⁹ The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
   he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
   he enables me to tread on the heights.

My point is that Habakkuk (“can I call ya Hab?”) is no mountain-top guru. Sure he ends on a happy note here. But what I’m saying is that his faith coexists with his other emotions. It doesn’t cancel them out. In one prayer he feels distressed, decaying, anxious, quivery, vengeful, worshipful, and empowered. And he feels okay about that. Do I feel okay about it?

Uh. No. But I want to be okay with it. At home. At church. Every day. It’s a particularly un-zenny idea: that our daily ambition with Jesus shouldn’t be to eliminate unpleasant emotions but to allow them to exist alongside our big-picture beliefs. It’s less Tibetan and more Semitic. But I think in the end it suits us better. After all… we’re not called to be mystics (though I dare say it’s okay to be wired that way).... Just real people getting realer with Jesus as He reveals the really real.

Receiving Love

Do I sometimes wonder if Jesus will orphan me... if one day, I’ll just stop hearing from Him and be left wondering if I can ever win him back? Will I feel powerless as he drifts away, disinterested, or disappointed in me? Of course, He’s saying "no" today. This morning, Father is saying to me, “The thing I need you to believe is that I love you, you are my child, I fashioned you, and there’s no way in the world that I will abandon you.” John 14 (a faithful companion the last few months) says as much: “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you… If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him and we will come to him and make our home with him.”

I know all this stuff. But God keeps saying it to me every time I open my ears. I guess I don’t fully believe it yet. And something tells me he’ll still be asking me to believe His love when I’m old.

His love has been piercing the leathery layers of my defenses for years. And even though today it makes me cry like a baby, I know it still hasn’t totally taken over my heart. And I know it’s no good to me unless I receive it.

I imagine myself receiving some random act of kindness from a friend. At first, I sneer inwardly, and demand the chance to do it for myself. Over time, my response becomes an embarrassed refusal of his kindness. Eventually, I let him serve me but try to pay him back. After he refuses, I let him serve me but formulate a backup plan in case he withdraws his love. With Jesus, I hope someday I can move beyond those responses and feel the safety to lay my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and just let him be nice to me. In fact I fancy that my primary “work” each morning in my devotional time is to simply allow him to love me—none of this pursuit of holiness, spiritual discipline, or self-improvement stuff. That’s all great stuff. But before all I think about any of that, I sit alone on this couch and try to be open to His love…. displayed both on the cross and in my daily life. That trust in His love is the primary task of every Christian. Out of that simple belief flows all the personal transformation I could ever ask for. Like Augustine said, “Love God and do as you please.”

Once, after I was newly married, I reflected that Jesus’ love empowered me to love my wife. An atheist friend of mine took offense at that, imagining that I believed he was unable to fully love his wife. In hindsight, I think I was right that Jesus’ love uniquely enables people to love others. But I couldn’t know at the time how little I understood of that love. My marriage was often crippled by fears and paranoia. I was often critical and judgmental towards Debra: a “love-miser”. In fact, MANY of my relationships have been guarded and loveless. Even my relationship with Jesus sometimes looked more like a meditative quest for self-betterment than an actual relationship.

But 2 years ago, God started busting through my defenses as he embarrassed me with an extravagant dose of love from his Daddy-heart. I cried a lot after that as he started to heal old hurts. There were time I would cry at the weirdest stuff. At the same time, I started to feel this Daddy-heart beating in ME for the first time. I developed this strange parental affection for some of my friends. I started asking better questions and listening more attentively. These days when I sit down with someone, I imagine I’m putting on x-ray goggles. I imagine that I can see past their moving lips, down their esophagus, into their hearts (metaphorically speaking…. Annabel once told me, “Jesus looks into our hearts to see how much blood is in there!”). I try to remember that somewhere inside, this person is a vulnerable child just like me, that they are loved just like me. It helps me move past my anxious posturing, judging, impressing, and sizing-up to a restful place where I can begin to love that person because Jesus loves them with embarrassing extravagance… just like He loves me.

If anything, I’m starting to grasp how far I am from resting my head on His shoulder, closing my eyes, and letting Him be nice to me. It’s not a matter of being insufficient as a disciple. Rather I think I’m over-sufficient… self-sufficient.

PS- Here are a couple things that God used to bust through my heart with His love:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwhYCB5jL9w&feature=list_related&playnext=1&list=SP1CC8B46C100BED5B

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyfH3T8HXZg

Injustice Make Me Sleepy

I am a white middle class American and honestly, I don’t feel embarrassed by that. But it makes me keenly aware of my position in the world. I can honestly say, I have NEVER been the victim of systemic injustice simply because I run this joint!  My people make the rules. We’re used to everyone playing on our terms and deferring to us. When I was in Kenya, the police would smile ingratiatingly at us as we walked through downtown but would stop and interrogate other Kenyans. Reverse racism. All over the world, I can get away with a lot just because of my skin and my passport.

If you’re like me, you’ve become so used to being treated fairly and given the benefit of the doubt, that somewhere in your heart you begin to doubt whether systemic injustice really exists among us at all. Like my white college buddies, you look at minority groups (especially the ones who “fight for their rights”) with a level of disdain. “They’re always complaining about their misfortune!” “They’re loud and obnoxious.” “If they would just work hard, get an education, and pull themselves out of their situation they would earn respect in our society.” A few of them who DO play by our rules (go to college, adopt a perfect Midwestern accent, sing our songs, and show up on time to everything) gain our notoriety and make us feel good about our “tolerance” for other cultures. I always used to feel justified in saying, “It’s not their skin, but their culture that bothers me.” I’m questioning that statement now.

It was recently suggested that I spend some time as a learner among Africans. I hope to make an impact on that continent through my work but I feel I need to first intuit the heartbeat of African societies. So I took a friend to lunch. He is an African church planter here in the Twin Cities. For 2 hours, I listened, probed, and sought to understand his experience as an African living in America.

What I heard troubled me. After teaching at a bible school, ministering in 20 countries, and learning  fluent German, he came to America to do his PhD in Theology. During his studies he planted a church through a primarily white denomination. The denomination hoped he would plant an “immigrant” church under their label. But when it turned into a primarily white church pastored by an African, the denomination began to distance itself. They told other regional pastors that they no longer associated with him that they shouldn't trust him. They stopped returning his calls and emails. As a final blow, his sending church has refused to sponsor him to renew his visa.

My friend believes he is not trusted because he is African. Believe me, I struggled emotionally to admit that could be possible among enlightened Americans. Surely, this was a communication breakdown. He was misinterpreting, misunderstanding the motives of others. Or perhaps my friend had done something wrong that he wasn’t sharing with me. I felt a strong compulsion to excuse the behavior of my white counterparts and eventually I had to ask why I was doing that, why I struggled to give my friend the benefit of the doubt.

But slowly, slowly, I began to unearth some loop tapes lodged within my psyche: Africans are lazy, Africans are needy, they are manipulative, they are deceptive, they cannot be trusted like "our people". Then it hit me…. I, an educated, sensitive, relational, enlightened human being simply do not trust Africans. But here was a young, educated, well-spoken, clear-headed African man telling me story after story proving that he was the victim of systemic injustice.

All I could do was yawn. The more I believed his story, the sleepier I got. I couldn’t help it. The idea that my culture still treats other cultures unjustly… well it’s overwhelming. So I shut down, became lethargic. I just can't believe this kind of thing could happen. Everything in me rejects the notion, because to accept it would require action on my part. I would have to learn to trust people of other cultural expressions and accept those cultures as much as I accept my own. I would have to let other cultures to play by their own rules in my church, in my neighborhood, even in my home. I may have to compromise some of MY ideals (like efficiency) for other peoples’ ideals (like community) and learn to appreciate those values for what they give me as a person and how they point me to God. And I would have to stand in solidarity with marginalized people seeking better treatment.

It’s not enough to be urbane and enlightened. My friend’s denomination had those qualities in spades. If I want to address racial injustice in my society, I have to get messy. I have to learn to trust people outside my cultural circles and listen to what they say…. Even if what they say makes me feel really incredibly sleepy.

Be More Judgmental Like Jesus

Judgmental. Perhaps the most commonly-wielded accusation against evangelical Americans. And I think it’s an apt descriptor. We ARE judgmental. It causes enormous problems not just for our public image but also for our relationships with each other. That’s why I’ve done everything in my power for the last 4 years to break off the judgmental tendencies which have damaged and destroyed several of my close relationships over the years. I’ve searched high and low for the secret to an attitude of acceptance (btw- the secret is receiving acceptance from God to a greater extent and from others to a lesser extent). I’ve found acceptance is a better foundation for relationship and gets me in much less trouble. But I keep running up against things I have a hard time accepting. So I’m left asking… is tolerance all it’s cracked up to be?

Jesus was intolerant. In fact, it was his intolerance that got him killed. In John 7, he says to a couple of his brothers, “The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify that what it does is evil.”

What!? I thought Jesus was supposed to be a “friend of sinners”. Now I imagine him in a big church preaching hellfire against gays and democrats. But when I look at his life, I don’t SEE the kind of standard moralizing I see in our churches today. He has a few sharp words for the man-on-the-street: “You’re only following me because I fed you bread.” Or… “stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.” But there’s also, “Woman, has no one condemned you? Then neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.” Stories of Jesus with prostitutes, tax collectors, and sinners…. Seems he’s in the business of offering life to the traditionally-rejected. In fact if Jesus came back today, I kinda think he might go drinking with his buddies at gay bars. I’m just saying….!

So where is the brunt of his judgment against the world felt? In the institution! It’s no coincidence that after his comment to his brothers in John 7, he goes to a Jewish Feast and says, “Has not Moses given you the law. Yet not one of you keeps the law.” Whoa! Imagine how it would feel if someone walked into your Christmas Eve service and said, “Not one of you understands the birth of Jesus. You are all hypocrites!” But this is where the judgment of Jesus is felt most strongly: in our religious and cultural establishments.

I don’t think evangelicals should stop judging. I just think we ought to redirect our focus. It’s easy for us to judge gay couples, moms who choose abortion, welfare dependants, and criminals. The behavior is apparent. But when it comes to greed we say, “money is a private matter.” We become quite docile and accepting when we see racism or sexism in the church. Justice for illegal immigrants? Well that’s too hot to touch isn’t it? And we would never judge the consolidation of power because we reward personal ambition in our culture.

It’s Jesus who sharply tells the crowds, “Stop judging by mere appearances, and make a right judgment.” In other words, it’s time to judge like Jesus. It’s time to start judging the heart and avoid the judgments that justify us: “Well I’m not perfect, but at least I’m not like THOSE people!” I want to look close to home before I shotgun my judgment against other groups. And when I criticize I want it to be against hypocrisy in my family, the Church.

If I must be hated, I really hope to be hated by other Christians.

Slight redaction and John 6: "Is it really that simple?"

Okay, redaction first: I recently wrote a blog entry trying to come to terms with the fact that support-raising is SLOW. I was learning that God may have a purpose for us being stuck in this season longer than we thought. But I was still feeling bummed about being poor. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that in every season of my life, God has amazingly and wonderfully provided for everything we need! Seriously! Our support level isn’t enough to move to Georgia, but it is plenty to live on here. We have free rent, free healthcare, supportive family and friends…. We have enough! It makes me suspicious that when it is TIME to move, we’ll have enough for that too. It frees me to listen to what the Spirit tells me to do and DO it rather than sit around doing the math and figuring out what I have enough to do. Well…. After that blog entry I got home and opened a $4,000 check from our ministry! Several people HAD responded to our year-end appeal and one person we’d never met had cut us an enormous check for $1,600. Crazy huh? The surplus should cover an upcoming “scouting” trip to Georgia and a couple other big needs. I was blown away. It felt just like God to work on my heart about support-raising all day, bringing me to a place of contentment, and then blow me out of the water with His awesome provision. So, I’m not bummed anymore. I’m actually really excited. I feel free once again to go out on a limb to listen and trust… trusting Father to provide. Okay. John 6.

Jesus feeds 5,000, walks on water, and talks about the bread of life. This chapter reads with such beauty, simplicity, and potency. I’m left with this feeling of Jesus reaching out his hand and saying, “do you trust me?” “It can’t be that simple Lord,” I respond. And he keeps saying, “What if it was that simple?”

Jesus, stuck in the wilderness with 5,000 hungry men and their families. A logistical nightmare. This is complicated. While the disciples do the math (8 months wages would buy everyone a single bite)…. Jesus thinks, “I know! Let’s just ask my Father to multiply these 5 rolls and 2 fish until everyone is full! Simple.

Jesus wants to hang out a little longer so he sends the disciples off in the only boat they have. In the middle of the night he decides to join them again. Walk around the lake? Hijack another boat? Hmmm… I know! I’ll walk on water to them! Simple.

Here come the crowds, looking for another meal and Jesus says, “Do not work for food that spoils but for food that endures to eternal life, which the son of man will give you… I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never go thirsty.” What could this food be that endures to eternal life? The abiding presence of God! John 15! Unity of heart and purpose with the Father. How do I get it? Just by trusting the one who gives it. And what happens if I eat it? I’ll never be hungry or thirsty again. Simple.

So… are we saying that if I just spend my energy turning my heart and life over to the Father, believing what He says, that I’ll be totally provided for? I really had to think about that one… but I think the answer is yes. God and I were talking about it some more today and he explained to me that in life, I WILL have to work to provide bread for myself and my family not because he made me to provide but because he made me to work. The mystery of it is that I’m never the one providing it! I’m only the one responding in obedience to His call to work. He writes the paychecks! Boy this is a tough one for me. Because the minute I start working, I start trusting myself for the results. But in support-raising, I don’t always see my hard work pay off. Other times, I do very little and see miraculous provision. It helps me see ONCE AGAIN that my domain is obedience and trust. His is provision.

And I think it really is that simple. So I’d like to recalibrate my energy towards listening, resting, believing, and trusting him. I think that’s what he means by “working” for food that endures. After all, when the crowds ask, “What must we do to do the works God requires?” Jesus cryptically responds, “The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.” …Simple.