Violence

I feel like I've been bumping into the theme of violence in a lot of different places lately - blogs, books, music, and preaching.  Seems to be a hot issue, too.  I first really started thinking about it when I picked up a copy of Derek Webb's latest solo album, The Ringing Bell.  Much of the content of the record centers around the idea that violence is our natural tendency - that it's the easiest path to walk down - but that Jesus wasn't joking around when he stressed the need to love our enemies regardless of who they are.  I've also heard some sermons lately touching on the "Blessed are the Peacemakers" section of the Sermon on the Mount.  

Then just last night I was reading in a book by the brilliant N.T. Wright, who was saying how even the Jewish mindset of the coming Messiah was fundamentally linked to the expectation of violence.  One of the primary assumptions about the Christ was that he was to immediately deliver Israel from their hostile neighbors, once and for all, through a violent and bloody war waged on their behalf.  When Jesus came on the scene, he found himself among a people who were ready for a fight - ready to be fought for.  How greatly ironic then for Jesus to bring a message of peace - a message that Israel was in fact called to love her enemies, turn the other cheek, and lay down her life.  And if his words weren't enough to cause a stir, Jesus then practices what he preaches and gives his life on a cross, blowing every expectation of how the Messiah would do things.  He rebukes Peter for using violence to fight against the cup of His Father (as he cuts off the guard's ear in the garden) and warns him of the dangers of living by the sword.  Rather than kill, Jesus lets himself be killed.  

There's something powerful in the contrast between violence and meekness.  Something about taking the bullet if it's the only way to avoid fighting sin with sin.  Something about the backward ways of Kingdom-living that aren't always successful, but are always faithful.

I think the desire for violence is something that wears many masks in our day, and because it has so many sophisticated disguises (including church language), it goes unnoticed and unacknowledged more often than not.  I wonder if my desires for things like "divine justice" and "righteous judgement" also have cravings for good old fashioned violence mixed in.

There are no easy answers with this subject, but I think that a lot of us could use a bit of a reminder that the peacemakers are indeed blessed, and that self-sacrificing meekness is still the way of the cross.   

The Joys of Autumn

It has been pointed out to me that I get way more excited about seasonal activities than the average joe. Take the Fourth of July, for instance. It was raining this year, and some of my friends were ready to break out George Foreman's Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine and call it a night. No, sir. Not on my watch. I insisted that my burger be treated right: prepared atop a traditional charcoal flame - outside - with a Sousa march playing in the background. So, met with chuckles and rolling eyes from my companions, I took my burger, braved the thunderstorm, and grilled the stars and stripes out of the thing. I was wet at the end, but my burger tasted like America.

That being said, my favorite season (by far) is autumn. When I woke up this morning and felt cold wind flirting with me through my window, I was more than a little pleased. It was perfect weather all day long, actually. I took a very long walk this afternoon (in a sweater!), and it struck me just how many memories something like the crisp air can trigger in me.

Images of middle school youth retreats came flooding back - the nights at Camp America where so many of us were introduced to Jesus of Nazareth and found out what loving Him looked like. I thought of cold mornings when Ben would pick me up at 5AM, a Caedmon's Call record playing in his car, to go and pray around the High School. Then there were the fall evenings of golden leaves and a game of disc golf with Ryan (I was never good at the game, but of course that's never why I went). Late-in-the-season cookouts at the Maglich house and impromptu bonfires at Hueston Woods rank high on my list as well. With the arrival of autumn it was also pretty much a given that we would block off at least one long weekend and escape down to Red River Gorge. There's nothing better than waking up in a tent to frozen toes and frosty breath with five or ten of your closest friends.

I could go on, as I haven't even mentioned corn mazes, pumpkin patches, hay-rides, or steaming hot apple cider yet, but I'll spare you. Suffice it to say that I am gearing up for some seasonal bliss in the very near future.

Erosion

I don't know that there has ever been a time in my life when I've felt less like a Christian.  And I don't say that because I'm suddenly in the scandalous habit of hanging out in bars, fishing for a one night stand.  I'm not.  As a matter of fact, I'm at home spending quality time with some oreos and a glass of milk.  

What I mean is, I've never felt so detached from the values and the practices of biblical Christianity.  Maybe it's just this transitional stage of life I'm in, getting on my feet (or trying to, as the case may be...) and encountering for the first time what "grown-up life" is all about.  Unfortunately, most of it's about rent and insurance and groceries and cars and working overtime.  By its very nature, my life has gotten much more "worldly" in the past six months, and I'm feeling the effects.  There are those who would tell me that God is still very present in my workplace and that I just need to look for Him in new ways.  And they're right.  I know that a "regular job" can be a great ministry.  I know that God is still present in this season.

But there's still something about it all that feels a lot like erosion; like the gradual chipping away of the Kingdom in my heart.  

I was venting some of this to a dear friend of mine a few weeks back, and he pointed me to the passage in Mark where Jesus tells the parable of the sower and the seed.  I can really see myself in the soil that had the thorns growing in it.  The worries of the world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things are all knocking on my door daily, and I've been staring back at them through the peephole.

Jesus warned us that life has a way of choking the word and making it unfruitful.  I don't want to be a disappointed, burnt-out "twenty-something."  I don't want my heart to be a casualty.  I want to feel like I'm the good soil again.

One thing's for sure:  I have a lot more compassion for the people I used to look down on.  I can remember many years ago my friends and I getting fed up with the "older generation" in my home church because it seemed like they just didn't have the energy or desire to pursue the "Deep Things of God" with us passionate younger folks in the youth group.  They were so passive... so worldly.  We were pretty arrogant at times.  

And now I find myself on the other side of the equation.  Now I'm the hard working simpleton who struggles to read his Bible every week.  God's a good shepherd for letting me see both sides (and hopefully taking the good from both perspectives).  

He is patient and He is kind.  This season will pass in time, and I know that I'll continue learning what it really looks like to live a Godly life.