[+/-] Lockouts and Lilies

Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a hockey league. Specifically, the National Hockey League. The NHL was comprised of 30 teams and roughly 900 players. These players were all absurdly overpaid, with payrolls eating up roughly 75% of team revenues and annual losses climbing above a quarter billion league wide. A few bonehead General Managers were signing bad players for huge money, thus pressuring small-market clubs to either over-spend (and fold) or suck (and fold). Put simply, the league was in deep poop.

Then one day the Collective bargaining Agreement expired, bringing a glimmer of hope to poor goodness-deficient teams everywhere, and one last chance for the league to prove to their fans that they didn't deserve to be boycotted, tarred and feathered, or institutionalized. But hope soon began to fade as the League and the NHLPA soon demonstrated that their primary interest was spewing rhetoric in the media. All those not having financial interests in the manure industry were disappointed. But the real and underlying disappointment was this:

The players were completely missing the point. They thought they were in a battle with the owners, which is technically accurate but ignores the fundamental truth of their situation. Ultimately, the players demands for money were an insult to the fans, because ultimately it is the fans, not the owners, who pay their salaries. And to make comparisons to professional basketball players or football players or baseball players is stupid. What some pitcher makes is totally irrelevant to what a goalie should make. Baseball players do not relate directly to hockey players, they're simply a different class of overpaid athlete. What is relevant is the relationship between hockey players and hockey fans, and as I see it, the facts are as follows: The players do not care about the fans. They're not interested in what an average fan makes or how they live. What a player knows is that he was born with an incredible gift in a capitalistic, entertainment-crazed world, and based on the great laws of supply and demand he deserves to be paid outrageously. The roles of the fans are to support his greed and boost his ego.

So why am I ranting about Hockey players? Well, I'm not Nathan - I'm not even Pa Grape - but I think I speak truly when I say "We are those men". Consider: The world we live in is fake. We are a tiny percentage of overindulged aristocracy over a mass of poverty and hunger. Our lifestyle is totally unsustainable. We can only live as we do by oppressing (or at the least, ignoring) other people. You can only wear fancy jeans and own a nice stereo and TV and Car because someone somewhere is underpaid. Indirectly, you can only keep and spend your money by somehow convincing yourself that you are worthy of your salary and your lifestyle, and (by implication, though none of us like to think this far) that those who are starving are worthy of death.

What am I getting at? I'm not asking you to feel guilty - that won't help anyone. Guilt's only desirable effect is motivation, and it's a rather poor motivator. Guilt, at least by it's self, tends not to create any meaningful or lasting changes because what really motivates a guilty person is a desire to stop feeling guilty. Don't feel guilty, but feel convicted to actually do something. What? I can't answer that, but Jesus can. "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

There are 2 problems with me saying that. First, I really don't know how to interpret that comment. Tony Campolo would tell you that when Jesus says "sell everything you have and give to the poor", what he means is actually go sell everything you have and give to the poor. (Incidentally, if you're a Tony fan, www.tonycampolo.org looks pretty cool. There's about 20 messages on there that you can listen to for free. So exciting!) For myself, I'm not really sure what this verse means. I don't accept the thinking that "Jesus only said you'd do that if you were perfect, but none of us are perfect so we can ignore it." We can and should be striving for perfection. But what do you think? How do you read this verse? Should we be seeking total poverty? I think another renowned speaker (whose name eludes me at the moment) said it's good to go to fancy restaurants sometimes. I hope he's right, because I like the occasional fancy meal. And after all, Jesus was known for going to feasts.

You know, I think God is a lot more interested in the attitude of our hearts than how much money we give and how much we spend. If you truly give sacrificially and you're at peace with God and you're not burying your head in the sand so you don't have to think about the starving children in Haiti, and if you also sometimes go to a nice restaurant with your honey, I don't believe that's wrong. I don't think God's interested in squeezing every last dime out of you, I think he's interested in getting you to truly and practically love the people around you. Buying bread for the homeless will not get you to heaven any more than buying indulgences. (But it will feed the homeless.) Giving is good for others; loving is good for you.

By the way, it's almost cliche to say "I'm not perfect in this area. I'm preaching to myself." But, seriously, I'm preaching to myself! I don't write this to rag on you, I write it because it's been on my heart. I'm convicted of this stuff and I want to get your feedback and allow you to be convicted too, at your discretion. Don't think I'm sitting here thinking about you and how sinful you are because you wear nicer pants than me. (Actually, I just bought a new pair of pants, which is probably why all I can think about is pants. They look cool, I think. They cost me 40 bucks, which is more than my miserly claws like to let slip, but they make me feel sexy.) Basically, the second problem with me quoting the "sell everything" bit is that whatever Jesus really meant, I have a hunch I'm not doing it.

(Ok, this next part's going to look like a total change of topic, but it all relates in the end. Stay with me.) I was reading Acts the other day. It's an awesome book. Very exciting. In fact this book is more or less the model for all exciting (by which I mean "Charismatic") Churches today. Acts is the story of the time when the church was awesome, when it was everything we all want it to be. A brief list:

1. Apostles. They had the Apostles! Lucky dogs. I mean, they had all 12! (...Or 11. Or maybe 13. However you count it, the point is they had them all.) How unfair! In fact, they had all the guys who hung out with Jesus. Can you imagine how cool it would be to have an Apostle in your church? If you had a question, you'd be like "Hey Thaddaeus, what did Jesus really mean when he said 'sell everything you have'?" and Thaddaeus would be like, "well, you don't get the full picture in the Gospels, but it was clear to those of us who were there that it was like this..." Man, why can't I have Thaddaeus? He hardly did anything, I mean, he's only mentioned twice in the whole Bible. It's not like I'm asking for Peter or someone important...
If you've never wished you had an Apostle around, it's probably because you've never thought about it. I mean, the whole Catholic Church is based on Apostle envy. That's why they've got to have Popes and Cardinals and all those guys - they just can't handle not having an Apostle around to tell them what to do.

2. The Holy Spirit, signs and wonders. I guess you could say that the whole Charismatic movement is based on Holy Spirit envy. The early church pretty much got the biggest and the best of all that miracle-type stuff. Yes, God still does cool stuff in Africa, yes, God miraculously healed you're Pastor's friend's Great Aunt, and yes, you can speak in tongues, but none of this happens nearly as frequently or dramatically or publicly as it did then, and the results are really not comparable. Most importantly, none of it ever happens around me. (Which is really all that matters. Not to beat around the bush, Spirit envy is very big in my life.) I don't want to get too deep into this issue here. All I'll say is this - despite the fact that the 1 Corinthians 13:8 excuse is absurd, you cannot deny that things are different now. Maybe it's that you don't have enough faith. Maybe it's just that we don't have any of those danged Apostles around. But something is different. It is.

3. Persecution. It's true. One of the major problems with Christianity (at least, western Christianity) today is that you just can't get persecuted any more. Maybe most of us aren't openly envious of this anymore, except maybe a few loud-mouth fanatics, (for example, our friends at www.godhatesfags.com) whom we all secretly hope are not really Christians. The fact that you can walk down the street in broad daylight wearing a cheesy Christian T-shirt or broadcast Gospel messages on the radio or hand out tracts on street corners and not get killed by a mob or imprisoned by the state is at once a blessing and a curse. We get all worked up because our country is supposedly becoming more immoral, or because they teach evolution, not prayer in our schools, or because we drew a line in the sand and made society choose between us and the "fags", and they chose them. This is not persecution. This is what happens when nations that used to be officially ruled by Christianity (a virtually unworkable situation, if you ask me) become secular again, just like they were in the first century. I think if we're honest with ourselves, we'll realize that we're not angry because the world won't listen to Jesus (it's always been like that, no matter how official Christianity was). We are angry because we can't tell everyone what to do anymore and pretend we're all Christians. We have to be different. Suddenly, there's a world out there, and we have to be in it. But this is not persecution.
Why would anyone want to be persecuted? Those who have experienced real persecution - in Islamic nations or the old Soviet Union for example - will tell you that it only strengthens the true Christians. There are no pew-warmers in an underground Church. Christ was crucified by the state, and modern Christians want to be the state. That seems odd to me. Anyway, the point is that the Church in Acts was persecuted, and I'm envious.

4. Growth. As Evangelicals, we're all pretty envious of how successful those early Christians were. Why can't we have a event that results in 3000 new converts? (The answer seems obvious to me from the context, but never mind.) We are the self-proclaimed evangelists - the zealous preachers. Our goal is to experience radical growth, to "win" souls. So... when's the last time your church saw 3000 people "saved" in one day? (Sorry, "last year at YC" is incorrect.) Can you really say the the Lord is adding to your number daily? No? Ya, me neither. I don't understand it, we tried everything! We've got powerpoint, we've got Simpsons clips in our sermons, we've got a coffee bar... what's it gonna take?

"Ok, what's your answer Jacob?" you say. "You wouldn't think of asking all those questions unless you had an answer, right?" Well my friends, I do. Perhaps not an answer, but a proposition. A hypothesis. It's difficult, it's daunting, but I think it's feasible. And you don't even have to take a prescriptive view of Acts to make this work - it should be attainable for Christians of all exegesical persuasions. It's based Acts 2:44-45, "All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need."

You can that simmer for a few minutes, because now I'm going to rant about our culture. I hate money. I hate the influence it has on my life. I hate nearly all interactions related to money. I hate how my parents always nag me to pay everyone for everything, and how the people who I try to pay almost invariably refuse. I hate how people feel like they need to pay me for helping them. I hate how people will whine about how they have no money and then be indignant when I offer to give them money or even pay for something simple like a meal. I hate how people (myself included) are embarrassed to make money, to have money, to not have money, to give or to save or to spend or to need. What is money? When did it become this holy thing, this sacred commodity with it's own 10 commandments? I'll tell you what money really is: it's foodstamps. Clothes-stamps. Stuff-stamps. It is not holy or magical or even particularly significant. The importance of money is this: you need a certain amount of it to be able to eat or drive or have stuff. Some of us have more than we need, and others have less. Why do we make a big deal about this? Money is not value or pride or success, it's math. Johnny has two apples. He needs four apples. Billy has five apples. He only needs three apples. Here, I'll write this out, so it'll be just like Grade 1 again.

5 - 2 = 3
2 + 2 = 4

There. Unless you live in Oceania, there shouldn't be any problems. But there is. I know, I feel it too. It looks fine on the chalkboard, but to actually give Johnny two apples - or, say $2000 - is really, really scary. I'd like to at least know Johnny first. I'd like to know how his credit rating is, when he's going to pay me back, and what's wrong with this Johnny guy anyway, that he can't take care of himself? Unfortunately, these are not the right questions. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting we throw large sums of money at anyone we meet on the street. Prudence is still important. But If we know that someone has a legitimate need and that they will use our money to meet that need, then what's the problem?

By the way, I'm not talking about lending. I mean giving. Actual, for real, giving. Not "pay me back with no interest." Not "pay me back when you can." Not "If you happen to have a lot of spare cash some day, think of me." I mean giving. Scary, hey? Not that lending with the expectation of being paid back is never right, or that we should necessarily cancel all debts owed to us or assume that our own debts will be canceled. But think about this: What if somewhere in the world there was a person - call him Billy, for continuity - who had a lot of money that he really didn't need. Imagine that one day Billy meets another guy - I guess that would be Johnny - who needs a lot of money he doesn't have. (Now hopefully your imaginations are warmed up, because here comes the really crazy part.) Imagine Billy's really out of touch with culture somehow and he just doesn't get all The Rules about money and what The Objective of The Game is, and he just thinks "Hey, I can meet this guy's need". So he offers Johnny the money he needs. And by some freak coincidence, Johnny's this weird guy who's never clued in about The Game either, and he doesn't realize that it's against The Rules to accept money from someone. Johnny accepts. In this scenario we're imagining, Billy isn't looking to be repaid, or for other people to think he's a great guy. (He doesn't tell anyone - it's just not a big deal to him.) He's not seeking eternal rewards or even the gratitude of Johnny. Johnny, incidentally, is grateful, but he's not embarrassed because he doesn't listen to society's BS about money. He doesn't feel ashamed to be in need or inferior for having received what the world would call "Billy's money". Neither does he feel obliged to repay Billy, unless Billy himself should some day be in need. As it turns out, one day Johnny does finds himself with some extra cash, but rather than "repay" Billy, he notices that Sally is in need, so he gives to her.

I know that whole story is pretty far-fetched. Honestly, I couldn't think of a plausible explanation for Billy and friends to be so unconcerned with society's expectations. The only thing that might do it is if they read their Bibles a lot, specifically the teachings of Jesus. I want to quote one of my all time favorite passages: Luke 12:22-34. It's perhaps one of the most beautiful and most daunting teachings in the Bible. (This is the Message, BTW.)

"He continued this subject with his disciples. "Don't fuss about what's on the table at meal times or if the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your inner life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the ravens, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, carefree in the care of God. And you count far more. Has anyone by fussing before the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? If fussing can't even do that, why fuss at all? Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don't fuss with their appearance--but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?"What I'm trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Don't be afraid of missing out. You're my dearest friends!The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself. Be generous. Give to the poor. Get yourselves a bank that can't go bankrupt, a bank in heaven far from bankrobbers, safe from embezzlers, a bank you can bank on. It's obvious, isn't it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being."

Wow. That's awesome. Read it over a few times. Meditate on it. Write it down, print it off, or grab a Bible. Go off by yourself an think and pray about that. Let it rock you. You can come back when you're done, I'll wait.

I want to come back to Acts 2:44-45, "All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need." Is that possible in our culture? Will it work? Can we sell our stuff and give recklessly and not worry about tomorrow? I don't know. But I think it's worth a shot.

It's time I quoted from Les Miserables. This is part of the conversation between Jean Valjean (a dangerous ex-convict) and the Bishop of Digne, who has just welcomed him into his house.

"Monsieur le cure," said the man, "you are very good. You don't despise me. You have taken me in and lighted your candles for me. But I have not concealed from you where I come from and what I am."
The bishop, seated at his side, laid a hand gently on his arm.
"You need have told me nothing. This house is not mine but Christ's. It does not ask a man his name but whether he is in need. You are in trouble, you are hungry and thirsty, and you are welcome. You need not thank me for receiving you in my house. No one is at home here except those seeking shelter. Let me assure you, passer by though you are, that this is more your home than mine. Everything in it is yours. Why should I ask your name? In any case I knew it before you told me."
The man looked up with startled eyes. "You know my name?"
"Of course," said the bishop. "Your name is brother."

(Later that night Jean Valjean, whom the bishop has allowed to sleep in his guest bed, wakes up and decides to steal the bishop's silverware, the one luxury in his humble house.)

At sunrise that mourning Monsieur Bienvenu was in his garden. Mme Magloire came running out to him in great agitation.
"Monseigneur, monseigneur, do you know where the silver-basket is?"
"Yes," said the bishop.
"Thank the Lord! I couldn't think what had happened to it."
The bishop had just retrieved the basket from one of the flowerbeds. He handed it to her saying, "Here you are."
"But it's empty!" she exclaimed. "Where's the silver?"
"So it's the silver you're worrying about?" said the bishop. "I can't tell you where that is."
"Heaven save us, it has been stolen! That man who came last night!"
With the zeal of an elderly watchdog Mme Magloire ran into the oratory, peered into the alcove and came running back to her master, who was now bending sadly over a cochlearia that had been damaged by the basket when it fell.
"Monseigneur, the man's gone! The silver has been stolen!" She was looking about her as she spoke. The wall bore traces of the thief's departure, one of its coping-stones having been dislodged. "That's the way he went - he climbed into the lane! The monster - he's gone off with our silver!"
The bishop after a moment's pause turned his grave eyes on her and said gently:
"In the first place, was it really ours?"
Mme Magloire stood dumbfounded. After a further silence the bishop went on:
"I think it was wrong to keep it so long. It belonged to the poor. And what was that man if not one of them?"

The bishop. So hot right now. But where were we? I think I quoted all that just to say that that's the kind of attitude I aspire to. I want to get this through my head that everything I have - even the money I made toiling on an assembly line this summer - is a gift from God. I'm a steward. I've been entrusted with a certain amount of money, first to meet my own needs, and then to do God's work - that is, to help those around me. I was sitting around the other day, considering the lilies, and I thought "Why the hell do I have 6000 bucks sitting in a bank somewhere?" I mean, sure it's "safe" there, and sure I'll need some of it next year, but why don't I invest it somewhere? There in the bank it's making some stupidly low amount of interest which the ING guy on the TV says won't even cover inflation. What a ridiculous situation! That's it! I'm switching banks!"

I had an idea to write a skit about a young man who decides to switch to "the Bank of God". He walks into this bank and chats with the receptionist about how stashing his cash in earthly banks is hardly better than burying it in the ground, and it would be far better to "invest" it somewhere. Think about this: how would you like to have God as your financial advisor? What sort of a return do you think He could get on an investment? Do you think if I gave "my" 6 grand to God He might be able to do something worthwhile with it? Do you think He'd be able to pay my bills somehow if I entrusted my finances to Him? Do you think that this might be a more exciting, more rewarding, more Christ-like way to live? I think so.

And now it's time for confessions. The fact is, I reasoned this out days ago (it takes me a while to write a post like this) and I still have all my money in the care of the RBC, safe from thieves and from God. Why? There are a number of reasons, I suppose, but what it boils down to is that I don't trust God. I don't trust him on at least two levels.

First, I'm not totally convinced that he exists, in the way that a Christian is supposed to believe he exists. I have no truly compelling evidence for God's existence, in fact I'm an Arts student, so I am daily bombarded by viewpoints and facts that explicitly or implicitly contradict this Christian notion of God. To this day I feel nothing when I worship or pray that might be confused with a sense of God's presence. I am a believer in Christ, but only through conscious choice. My heart, my gut, do not believe, but I've though it through and I've said in my mind "Jacob, you're going to believe this." I think this is a legitimate form of belief, but it's not very conducive to acting in faith.

Second, my history of acting on my theories of what God wants or will do is quite discouraging. If you know me at all you know that most of my problems today stem from the fact that I once believed God would tangibly reveal himself to me if I really wanted him to. I had what I thought was pretty solid logic to support this belief, backed up by what I believed scripture was saying and by the encouragement and affirmation of friends and mentors. And we all know where that got me. I've recovered from this fiasco - or at least, I seem to be in the process of recovery - but I am legitimately wary of reasoning out how God will respond to my actions. Everything I've said above looks solid to me, but from my own experience I see no reason why it shouldn't blow up in my face. If this were to happen, I'd likely have deep, deep damage done to my faith, in addition to being out 6000 bucks. What this means it that it's fine for me to say "Probably God want's me to do this risky thing for him", but when it comes to literally putting my money where my mouth is, I'm cautious. "I won't be broken again."

On the other hand, I'm longing to do something real about my faith. I hate this lukewarm life - going to church, going to school, trying to be nice and to learn to pray again. I'm desperate for something real and vibrant in my Christian life. I used to ask God to rock my world, but he never did (at least, never in the ways I wanted him to), so now I ask other people. I've started saying stuff like this to big-name Christian leaders:

"I'm about disgusted enough with this infectious ho-hum cultural mindset to do something crazy for Jesus. Don't give me your pretty words and your nebulous challenges. Put a sword in my hand and point me toward the Philistines. There will be bloodshed. I'm not sure that I'm up to the task (whatever it may be) but I'm tired of sitting idle, and I think I'd rather die than live the rest of my life with this rancid complacency."

This is a scary thing to say. I'm afraid that sooner or later it'll get me shipped off on a mission to some "godforsaken" corner of Africa. But like I said, I'm sick of this casual Christianity that we all seem to do. I tried going the route of real interaction with God, and that didn't really work out. So I'm thinking about trying to live radically and dangerously and practically for God, which is riskier maybe, but would still be very cool if it worked. But it's so scary. I don't know what to do. God, apparently, wants me to struggle through this on my own, make my own theories about what he wants from me, and screw up a lot.

Holy crap, where's Thaddaeus when you need him? Heck, I'd settle for Balaam! Someone, please tell me what God wants me to do! No takers? I thought so. Very well. (I'm being sarcastic now. Your opinions, as always, are greatly valued. Seriously.)

[+/-] Dare to be a Daniel

Ishmael is an awesome, awesome book. Wait, I'm having de ja vu here. Didn't I just say that about some other book? Les Mis, wasn't it? Ok, Les Miserables is still wickedly good, but in the volatile, cutthroat world of Jacob's books, the rising star is Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn. I'm only about 100 pages in so far, but it promises to be a major event in my life. Probably, I will not be a Christian after reading this book. Ok, that's not true. But, dang, this book is crazy cool.
You know that thing that happens sometimes, when you enter a room full of people and suddenly you see this girl who you've never seen before, and then your eyes lock, and it's like she's shooting tractor beams from her retinas to your soul and you think "This is it"? You know that feeling, when all the questions you've ever asked are answered in a moment by the look in her eyes, and before you've even heard her name you know in the very depths of your heart that you will love this girl, and her alone, every moment for the rest of your life? You know what I'm talking about here?
Ok, it's never actually happened to me. Yet. But I saw it in a movie once. Anyway, this is a little like what I felt when I started reading this book. Well, that's not really true either. Forgive me, I am, at times, a shameless exaggerater. But the book looks to be good.

[Total change of topic.] I had a conversation the other day, with a friend who used to do retail at a super-high end store. She told me about some of the people who'd come in and the stuff they'd buy. $500 scarves, that sort of thing. It makes me want to vomit. Or scream at someone. Or... burn the place down, take these people hostage, and leave them stranded in Haiti for a few weeks. Does anyone mind if I swear? No one? Good, just checking. There's something about people who will spend more on clothes in one day than most people on earth will ever own that make me want to join a screaming death-metal band, or maybe a terrorist group. Fuck.
(This is where I calm down a bit. To those who were deeply offended by my language, I send my regrets. It is my belief that swearing is sometimes the only appropriate thing to do. But I'm probably wrong.) So after I calmed down a bit from my initial fury, I became introspective. Am I really justified in feeling anger towards such wastefulness, such negligence? I think so, as long as I don't actually go on a killing spree. Is there so much difference between a mother neglecting her child and some rich jerk ignoring the people dying all around him, spending so much on his own petty amusement? Well, maybe. Maybe he doesn't deserve to die, but he is definitely wrong. Horribly wrong. Next question: am I so different? I don't want to be a hypocrite. My rage against injustice would be a mockery if it ignored my own evil. But I also don't want to beat myself up for some imaginary sin. So it's like this: I wear old shoes and ripped jeans and free camp T-shirts. I'm thrifty by nature but I'm not miserly. I give. I try to give more and more. Does the very fact that I live in the western world make me guilty? Does the very fact that I am a participant (to whatever degree) in a culture that destroys it's environment, it's enemies, and it's own members make me guilty? There's this idea out there, in all areas of morality, that if you're pretty good, that's good enough. I can only assume that those who hold this view have not really thought it through - that they're simply interested in feeling justified, rather that truly being justified. But what am I called to? I am, (they tell me) justified through Christ. I don't need to attain perfection, because I have already been made positionally perfect. But I should be striving for perfection, so as not to make a mockery of Christ's sacrifice. Something along those lines. What does this mean practically? How far do I take this? Let me tell you about Greg.
I met Greg on a missions trip, in a sort of coffee shop for Christian street people. Greg was a middle aged, gentle man who radiated this bittersweet happiness, as if he was smiling, even when he wasn't, and as if he had just recently been crying. He was amiable, reasonably groomed, dressed a bit poorly, but not dirty. He seemed real and vulnerable, you could feel him asking with his eyes for an exchange of love, and it was hard to tell if he was giving or talking. He was a tortured soul, pressed but not crushed. I liked him.
Greg was confused. He really wanted to follow God's will, to the exclusion of all else, but he wasn't sure what God wanted from him. He said the world kept tempting him, laying at his feet all kinds of wealth and power. He never had trouble finding good, well paying jobs, but he had trouble keeping them. The world, it seemed, was perpetually laid at his feet, and this scared him. He wouldn't go to work some days. His boss was fed up with this, he'd told Greg he was fired. That was yesterday. Greg had been on his work today, to apologize and ask for his job back. (He was sure he'd get it. That was the way the world worked with him.) Instead, he'd found himself in this coffee shop. Maybe God had brought him here. (He said repeatedly how good it was to be in the fellowship of Christians again, by which he meant his friends at the shop - an assortment of silent, brooding bums, and bearded, windbag preachers, and one irritating old lady who asked him how he was doing, but didn't really listen to the answer and spoke in strings of Christian cliches. He used the cliches too, but he sounded like he believed them. He sounded like he really enjoyed the company of these people, just because they were Christians. It was weird.) Greg asked us (my friend and I) what God wanted him to do. How good did God expect him to be? He tried, he really did, but he was always falling short. I suggested that if he was looking for a standard, he might try Matthew 5:48. Greg flicked pages in his Bible. "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Greg didn't like that much. God can't really expect that from him. It's too much. But he must expect something.

What? What do you want from me Son of God? I have this idea that God wants us to be striving for perfection, knowing we'll never get there, but giving it our best shot. But that's not really practical. How much do I have to do to be doing a pretty good job? My goal in this course, God, is 80%. Just tell me how much I have to do to die with Honors.
"Moderation in all things" is a good idea. It works in politics, it works in economics, it works in your personal life. I reasoned - back in High School, back before "all this happened" - that the only exception to this rule should be my devotion to God - that is, my pursuit of perfection. But I didn't really live like that. Maybe I thought I did, but I was lying to myself. There are always, always exceptions, things that are "holy" to me, that God can't touch. You may think this is silly, but one of my greatest fears is that some day I may become convicted that it is wrong to eat meat.
Ok, by this point I've finished reading Ishmael. (I've been writing this over a period of several days.) It makes me think about stuff I've never really thought about before. I think I need to start really, seriously looking at the world around me, the people around me, and somehow deciding how I need to live my life. I saw a sticker on a mailbox once that said "No flyers please - we care about our environment." I thought that was a bit silly. For some reason I made the assumption (probably a poor one) that these people were doing nothing to care for their environment except putting that sticker on their mailbox. If that assumption were true, they'd be pretty shallow, hypocritical people. Not accepting flyers does not make an ounce of difference to the environment. It doesn't even change the number of flyers that are printed. It's just a band-aid for your ego. The people who visit your house will see the sticker and think you care about the environment, but in reality, their approval is all you're looking for. I think I'm kind of like that. I tell myself I'm a person of conscience because I get angry at selfish, wasteful rich people, and because I myself don't spend lots of money on clothes. (In reality, this is due almost entirely to my personality, and not any kind of moral reasons. I'm like a vegetarian who doesn't like meat, but looks down on people who do.) I have a mild respect for people who make the effort to avoid waste and eat the right foods and whatever, and a vague and uneducated disapproval for those evil multi-national corporations. I sometimes give loonies to bums. I think about sponsoring a child - someday. I watch Michael Moore films. I ride the bus (though not by choice). I think good thoughts about people. I dislike George Bush. This is the extent of my social conscience.
Donald Miller talks about how we care more about "fashion" than morality. People will go to protests and stuff just to be there, to feel like they care about stuff. I think I'm like that. I hate the Liberal Party because everyone hates the Liberal Party. I like the Conservatives, because they're not the Liberals. Sometimes I wish I could be religiously conservative, and believe every word of the Bible and tell women to wear long skirts and headcoverings. Other times I wish I could be really liberal, and work out for myself what's right, and go to a church with a woman pastor, and believe that the only thing that matters is loving people. As a matter of principle, I will cheer against America at any sporting event. All these opinions are based on what seems cool to me, at the time. I wear faded jeans and dirty runners the way a rich woman might wear a $500 scarf. I have a fashionable disregard for fashion. I wear a veneer of morality, of compassion.
Which is not to say that I don't have some degree of compassion in my heart, or that every good thing I do is motivated by a desire to simply look good - to others or myself. (I think it's quite possible to pray like the Pharisees even in your own room, with the door shut. Hypocrisy exists even when the only person watching is ourselves. It's subtler, but no less destructive.) Anyway, it's only fair to mention that I am not pure evil. The purpose of all of this is not to beat myself up. But I'm trying to look seriously at myself, at my motivations and my inconsistencies, and expose some of the lies I tell myself. I'm afraid of where this might take me, if I do too good a job. For example, I'm afraid I might realize that I should be a vegetarian, for some kind of ethical reasons. I've never considered this before. I've never even considered considering it. But that's wrong, I know. Amazing that God could use Daniel Quinn to convict me of my hypocrisy. (I skimmed through his sight the other day - ishmael.com. He is a scary, scary guy, for someone who was raised as I was. Particularly freaky is this page here: www.ishmael.com/Books/TheHoly/introduction.cfm.)
So, I'm not sure where to go from here. Maybe I should do a bunch of research, so I don't buy unethical stuff, or something. Maybe I should just try to live my life, and think critically about my own prejudices and hypocrisies as they come up. The one thing I should definitely do right now is publish this post, because it's been a while.