[+/-] Psalm 119:105-112 (JHV)

N

I have chosen my path according to what I believe to be your words
yet often the light grows dim.
I have taken an oath and confirmed it many times,
that I will pursue righteousness.
I have suffered (it's hard to say how much);
preserve my salvation, O LORD, according to the common interpretation of Biblical promises.
Accept, O LORD, the willing (if imperfect) praise of my mouth,
and teach me to interpret and apply your laws.
Though I may decide to take my life in my hands,
I will keep in mind the laws of this book.
The world distracts and confuses me,
but I am learning the wisdom of it's precepts.
It's statutes have been my foundation, and I hope they always will be;
though I don't believe they have ever brought me joy.
I truly want to keep your decrees
whatever the result may be.

[+/-] Fog

I'm in a dark place. Dark? No. More... foggy. Or misty, maybe, which is not precisely the same thing. I can see the scene now. It's early morning. There is no sun - perhaps it hasn't yet risen, or perhaps it's completely obscured by the clouds. The fog (or mist) is around me, and I can see no more than twenty feet in any direction. Twenty feet is the radius of my world. The ground is grey, and my feet make no sound as I walk. A tree appears - branches, then trunk, then more branches. It is leafless and black, as if it has been burnt. It disappears again, and I wonder if it still exists. There are no sounds.

The fog seems to choke sound. If this were a movie, there would be music playing, and the music would tell me the mood of the scene - heroic, forbidding, serene, tense? But of course there is no music, and the ambiguity is unsettling. I wonder if the fog (it's a fog, I've decided) will lift, or if I will come across a building, or a person. I wonder if I should have stayed by the tree.

I suppose I am lost. I cannot see what is ahead of me; I cannot recall what is behind. That is the nature of a fog. It's not my fault: being lost. Anyone could get lost in a fog like this. Or maybe it is my fault. I'm not certain - I can't seem to remember how I got here. I wish I had stayed by the tree.

I can see my breath, so it must be cold. I don't remember seeing it before. It seems to me that there is fog coming from my lungs. I resent this - fog ought not to be inside me. My circle of vision seems to be shrinking. How far now? Twelve feet? Ten? What if the fog keeps closing in until I can't see my feet? How will I know if I'm still moving? For that matter, how do I know I'm not simply walking deeper into the fog? Why am I walking this in this direction? I can't seem to remember anything. I was walking... I was... searching? Why would I go looking for something in this fog? I don't even remember what it was. ...A tree, maybe? That's the only word I can remember, but it doesn't seem to fit. Maybe I was coming from a tree.

I hate this fog. It blinds me, it suffocates me, it gets in my brain. I want to see things. I've seen things before, I'm sure. It's not right that I should be lost, and unable to see. I try to remember things I've seen. My hands? But I see them now. Surely there is more to see. ...The ground? No, no. The ground is grey and unchanging. Real things aren't grey. (Though what real things might be, if not grey, I do not know.) What else? A... tree? Yes. I've seen a tree. But what is "tree"? Just a word - what does it signify? Is it a real object (like my hand, for example, which is a real object) or is it just a fantasy word? I try to think what a tree would look like, if ever I had seen one. A tree is like... a hand. But what nonsense! I've obviously made it up, I can see now. There are no trees, only hands (my hands). If there were real objects - other objects - they would be unimaginable and different. They would not be like hands. There is no such thing as a tree.

No such thing as a tree? Then what is there such a thing as? Why do I exist, if there is nothing else? Why am I in this fog? Why do I have this body, with it's hands, and it's... it's legs that move beneath me, stretching down, down into the fog? Is the whole world only my body - ever fading, ever shrinking, only the hands to be seen clearly, if I lift them up close? There must be more. There must be... but... but what did I call them? Trees. There must be trees. Oh, I wish it were true! I want to believe in trees.

I'm just not sure if I can.

[+/-] I'm Tired Tonight

Seems like I abandon more posts than I finish these days. The only time I really feel motivated to write is when I've got an essay due soon and I need something to distract me.

Why is it a struggle for me to write here? Why do I find this so draining? I think I bore myself. Life bores me, God bores me. Some conversations manage not to be boring - some. I chase after these little blessings, these connections, because they're really the only thing that makes me feel significant.

Man, I am sick of God. He seems exactly like some over-hyped celebrity. Everyone's always "God this" and "God that". I'm always reading about him, thinking about him. I wish I could live a day without thinking about God. I remember writing once about how I wanted to get away from God, but I knew I could never handle it. Now I think I could. I used to long for God all the time, but I haven't in a while, because I know it does me no good. Eventually this longing, unnurtured, wastes away.

Oh, I'm so tired. It's so hard to keep typing. It might actually be easier at this point to write some meaningless essay for English. Most of all, I want to go to sleep. I want to be unconscious right now. If only I could shut off my dreams, it would be perfect. But I wonder - if I could sleep without dreams, would I have any sensation of passing time, or would I feel like I'm waking up the instant I go to sleep? That would be worthless. Is it possible to separate the sensation of time from all other sensations, or is time just an awareness of a string of experiences? Forget it. I don't care.

I keep making these feeble attempts to think coherently about my spiritual life. It's not happening. Here's what's up: everyone seems to disagree with me about what I ought to be doing about God. I want to just ignore Him, because empirical evidence strongly suggests that this is the best thing I can do, both for my own happiness, and for my effectiveness in serving other people. (I'm even beginning to doubt that now.) No one else seems to get this. All I ever get from other people is "No, you gotta keep trying." WTF? Am I just really bad at explaining this? Or does everyone really think that me "seeking God" (whatever the hell that means) is the best thing I can do, regardless of the effect it has on me?

Had a big talk with a friend the other day about this. He's pretty sure I'm just in a "valley" right now. A big friggen valley a year and a half long, where for whatever reason God seems distant to me. I'm pretty sure this is just my life, and it's the way it'll always be 'till the day I die, and there's no sense struggling against it. I don't know who's right. How could I? I'm so weary of arguing about God and the Bible and what I ought to be doing. Maybe I should fall in love, and think about some girl for a change.

I feel like I've said this a million times: I'm willing to do whatever. I can seek God or not seek God. I can think or not think, question or not question. I can serve in any capacity, I can give my life to any cause, I can go to Africa or China, or I can stay here and do what I'm doing. I don't care. If God said "Hey, do this", I'd do it. But until such a time as he tells me what to do, I've got to just make my own decisions and press on the best I can. What else can I do? I can't follow God until I have some idea of which way he went. Until then, I've got to provide my own light, and walk my own path.

I've quoted this song before. It's still my theme song.

a man lies in his bed in a room with no door

he waits hoping for a presence, something, anything to enter

after spending half his life searching, he still felt as blank

as the ceiling at which he's staring

he's alive, but feels absolutely nothing so, is he?

when he was six he believed that the moon overhead followed him

by nine he had deciphered the illusion, trading magic for fact

no tradebacks...

so this is what it's like to be an adult

if he only knew now what he knew then...

i'm open

i'm open

come in

come in

come in

come in

i'm open

i'm open

come in

come in

come in

come in

lying sideways atop crumpled sheets and no covers

he decides to dream...

dream up a new self for himself

[+/-] Hotel Rwanda

For those who are interested, Hotel Rwanda, the much anticipated (by me) movie about the Rwandan genocide, is now in theaters (though apparently only at South Edmonton Common). I'll hopefully be going at some point next week. If you're interested in accompanying me, let me know. Just thought I'd give you the heads up.

[+/-] Love According to John

I recently got back from Winter Camp. It was one of the best weeks ever. The speakers were really good. We had a lot of fun. I met some amazing people, and many existing relationships were deepened. I could write endlessly about my experiences that week and the people I talked to and the things we talked about, but the task is daunting, and this isn't a very suitable medium. I think I'll just throw out one of the interesting thoughts I had this week. Actually, this is an adaptation of a "talk" (I don't want to say "sermon") I gave one evening. I feel like it's worth sharing. (Sorry to those who've already heard this.)

I started off by reading a whole bunch of passages from 1 John (You can pretty much skim over them, as they all say essentially the same thing. The repetition is for emphasis):

1:6 If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.

2:3 We know that we have come to know him if we obey his commands. The man who says, "I know him," but does not do what he commands is a liar, and the truth is not in him. But if anyone obeys his word, God's love is truly made complete in him. This is how we know we are in him: Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.

2:9 Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness. Whoever loves his brother lives in the light, and there is nothing in him to make him stumble. But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness; he does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded him.

2:29 If you know that he is righteous, you know that everyone who does what is right has been born of him.

3:6 No one who lives in him keeps on sinning. No one who continues to sin has either seen him or known him. Dear children, do not let anyone lead you astray. He who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous. He who does what is sinful is of the devil

3:9 No one who is born of God will continue to sin, because God's seed remains in him; he cannot go on sinning, because he has been born of God. This is how we know who the children of God are and who the children of the devil are: Anyone who does not do what is right is not a child of God; nor is anyone who does not love his brother.

3:14 We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love our brothers. Anyone who does not love remains in death. Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life in him.

3:17 If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us.

4:7 Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

4:16 God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.

4:20 If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother.

Scary stuff, eh? Just in case you missed the big theme there, allow me to summarize: He who does not love his brother, or who lives sinfully has not come to God, is not in God, has not seen or known God, is not a child of God (but rather of the devil), and does not have eternal life. To condense this further, allow me to be so bold as to say that John believes that those who do not display a loving and obedient life are not Christians.

Incidentally, 1 John mentions a couple other ways of determining if one is a Christian, namely whether they have the Spirit (2:20, 3:24, 4:13) and whether they say that Jesus came from God (2:23, 4:2-3, 4:15). (Furthermore, John urges his readers to "continue in him" (2:24-28) as if to say that it is possible for Christians to loose their salvation, but this is a separate issue.) However, the greatest and the most problematic of John's "salvation tests", so to speak, are obedience and love.

I think many Christians, upon reading this, will immediately wish to interpret these verses in light of the "greater context of scripture", which often seems to mean (if you'll pardon my cynicism) emphasizing the verses we like, and interpreting verses we dislike in a way that makes them line up with our preferred and preconceived doctrines. However, I believe the clarity and redundancy of the above verses are more than sufficient to warrant a serious and honest rethinking of our notions about salvation and Christian life. Anyway, I think we overemphasize the indivisibility (to say nothing of the continuity) of our Bible. We would do well to remember that the books of our Bible once stood alone (or rather, they stood in a context of personal experience between readers and writers, as well as a considerable amount of presumed knowledge and doctrine, that is all but lost to us). Perhaps our struggle to fit the whole Bible into some single creed or statement of faith and to interpret all Biblical concepts in view of all other Biblical concepts is not only impossible, but detrimental to our understanding of individual books, authors, and concepts. But I acknowledge that my view of the Bible is pretty unorthodox, and may seem positively burn-'im-at-the-stake heretical to you. However, I hope you'll agree that this has no direct bearing on my current point about John's ideas of salvation. Back to business.

Real Live Preacher (as I've mentioned before) says the Jews of John's era were very holistic, meaning that "they did not know how to separate mind from body". He says that in our culture "a man may betray his wife and neglect his children, but say he loves them 'down inside'. Bullshit. There is no 'down inside.' Love is something you do, not something you feel. Likewise, we think having faith means being convinced God exists in the same way we are convinced a chair exists. People who cannot be completely convinced of God's existence think faith is impossible for them. Not so. People who doubt can have great faith because faith is something you do, not something you think. In fact, the greater your doubt the more heroic your faith." I take this to mean that our attitudes and actions are a fairly accurate reflection of our true beliefs. Not that beliefs and underlying motives are insignificant (see 1 Cor 13), but the importance of action is often underemphasized.

Real love compels us to action. The same is true, I think, of real faith, real hope, real joy, peace, patience, etc. These things are not invisible - if they exist, they will be seen. James says faith without works is dead (2:14-26); John says love without works is dead. Martin Luther's take on it is that we are saved "by faith alone, but not by a faith that is alone".

I think evangelical's zeal for converting people prompts and overemphasis on the "free gift" of salvation. This idea is supported to some extent by scripture, but we often forget or ignore the other side: that true faith and true love will prompt real and tangible changes in our lives - in our attitudes, thoughts, words and actions. Christians, particularly children, tend to doubt their salvation, wondering if perhaps they "said the wrong words" or some such thing. Intriguingly, I've never heard anyone answer a child's fears by saying "Well, do you love people? Do you obey God's commands? The Bible says that's how we can tell if someone's a Christian."

So the inevitable question is what if I don't love and don't obey? Personally, I love poorly and seldom, and I often willfully disobey God's commandments. Am I not a Christian? I don't know for sure, and I don't want to give the impression of having some authority on the subject, because John doesn't really address this possibility, but I'll give you my opinion. It seems to me - and I think many Christians would agree - that the attitude of your heart and the desire to serve God and love others are the distinguishing characteristics. Humility is key. One of my favorite verses is James 4:10: "Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up". Before we can begin to really love and obey, we must come humbly before God, recognizing that we're not capable of pleasing him out of our own strength.

But examine yourself. Do you desire to love and obey more? Are you actively working towards that? If not, something is seriously wrong. You need to ask yourself whether you want to follow God and live for him, or whether you want to part ways with God, and stop calling yourself his child. The way I read my Bible, there is no other option.

[+/-] Intimacy, and the lack thereof

Ok, this first paragraph what actually written later on. I figured I should warn you before you plunge in that some of the following may be seen as awkward or inappropriate. I really don't know - I think I'm a poor judge of such things. But just so there are no surprises, I'll be talking here about intimacy, the physical display thereof, love, sex, and so forth. If you were hoping to get though life without ever hearing me talk about sex, you probably shouldn't read this. Otherwise, we should be fine.

I want to give to you. I want to connect with you. I want to walk with you; talk with you. I want to touch you. I recently heard a sermon about loving God with all aspects of our being - heart, soul, mind and strength. I want to do the same for you.

Touch is a curious thing. People tend not to be comfortable with it, past a certain point. I like it. I like being hugged and kissed and held. It's therapeutic for me. It's comforting. It's my "love language", I suppose. It's funny because most people are simply grossed out by the level of physical intimacy I have with some guys. For myself, I'm a bit frightened by physical contact with girls. But this last week I met a few girls who are comfortable with physical touch, and it was a weird experience. I can remember lying on a couch with my head on a girl's lap (a girl I hardly knew) and having her stroke my hair. It was a good experience. It felt beautiful to me in some way, kind of like Jesus eating with prostitutes or touching lepers. It felt like a gesture of cool defiance against the tight-assed prudishness of our culture. Or something. Words elude me at the moment.

Sexuality is a weird thing. I guess at my current point in life it's simply an annoyance. It gets in the way of what I want to do, because I think there are some things that are simply off limits - not even because of any cultural norms or taboos, but because of myself. I know there are things that I couldn't handle, that are unredeemably sexual, if I can say that. (Thinking.) For the first time in my life I'm questioning the whole monogamy thing. Wait. Ok, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll come back to that.

So, four aspects of our being - Heart, soul, mind and body. I'm talking about the body part because it's by nature more visible and therefore more discussable, but I want to take this and apply it to the other parts as well. What about talking? I really like talking with people. Is that a mind thing? Maybe a heart thing? Maybe it depends on the subject and the context. Maybe if we're discussing a topic of mutual interest, that's mind-type intimacy, whereas if we're revealing the nature of our emotions, hopes and dreams, it's heart-intimacy. Maybe. Where does the soul come in?

If I remember correctly, the speaker this last week said the soul stuff was like ambitions or values or something. Plato refers to the soul, or the "spirited" part of us as being the possessor of courage. Maybe soul-intimacy means making you a priority in my life (and vice-versa). Maybe it's the choosing part of love - the "I don't like you at the moment, yet I will continue to love you" kind of love. I don't know. I'm thinking on the fly.
I'm quite reckless about intimacy. It's my favorite thing in the world, and I tend to think that the deeper I can be with more people, the better. There are very few things about myself - thoughts, feelings, etc. - that I choose to keep secret from everyone. If you hang out with me long enough, there are few things that I know or guess about myself that I won't share with you sooner or later. This is unusual, apparently. I don't know why I'm comfortable doing this when most others apparently aren't. Maybe part of it is that I've pretty much never been betrayed by anyone. I don't know. What I set out to say in this paragraph is that I see no problem with being intimate with a wide range of people. But others, apparently, do. I don't know why this is, but I think it relates to the idea of having one wife (or husband) and the idea of sexual fidelity.

I guess I look at physical intimacy as being the lowest of the kinds of intimacy. To achieve some kind of union of the mind, the heart, even the spirit, would be a kind of wonderful and mystical thing, much more difficult than a simple physical touch. Oops, here comes another tangent:

What's the deal with sex? Is physical intimacy a single scale, ranging from casual contact at the base to sex at the pinnacle? Is sex the greatest and most intense form of physical intimacy? Maybe. Does that mean that all touch is sexual to some degree, and that what we call "intimacy" is simply a measure of sexuality? I don't think so. So where's the distinction? How does an act become sexual or non-sexual? I guess intention plays into it. An act of physical intimacy like a kiss (not just a kiss as a category, but a very specific, single kiss) can be sexual or non-sexual depending on the intentions and the interpretations of the kissers. It may even have a sexual aspect for one of the kissers, but not the other. This is where we run into problems with people disagreeing about what kinds of touch are "appropriate", either in certain contexts or in general.

I wonder how sexual attraction plays into the whole thing. It's so weird that I'm attracted to people of one gender and not the other (Orlando Bloom being something of an exception). It's weird that I can still want to touch someone for whom I feel no sexual attraction. It's weird that I can want to touch someone for whom I might conceivably feel sexual attraction in a totally non-sexual way. It's weird that even "innocent" (as if to imply that sexual desire is some kind of sin) affectionate touch can apparently progress very quickly into the other kind. (Oh, if you're curious, my aside about Orlando Bloom was a joke.)

But what's the big deal about sex? Why is it this big secret thing that we place so many restrictions on? Sex builds intimacy, it shows love, so why can this be done only between two people, within a certain kind of relationship, and (possibly) with several other restrictions? It seems that God's got the idea that we should only be so intimate with most people, and that there is at the most one other person with whom we should have a special level of intimacy. Perhaps this is what's repulsive to me about marriage: the idea that I'm dedicated to one person only, for the rest of my life, and that all other relationships are somehow restricted by that. I don't necessarily mean that I'm disappointed about not being able to have sex with a bunch of different people - being a good Christian boy, I never even think about sex - but I'm disappointed that I can't have with many people the kind of beautiful, incredibly close relationship that is apparently possible only within marriage, symbolized by physical union.

Um, I wasn't intending to talk so much about sex. It's an illustration, primarily, or was intended to be. It seems to me, based on the Bible's ideas about sex and marriage, that there should be some kinds of restrictions on intimacy between most people. I don't really understand why this is. Knowing people, being known, loving and receiving love is the best thing I've ever experienced. When Christians give their sales pitch they always talk about being known and loved by God and the opportunity to have a relationship with Him. I don't understand why God would create us with this desire and need for community and then effectively say "this far you may go, but no further". No random physical sex. I say "physical sex" - are their equivalents? Is there "heart-sex"? "Spirit-sex"? "Mind-sex"? Deeply intimate, perhaps pleasurable, very personal things that are or should be shared only with a very few - perhaps only one - person in all the earth?

I'm not really arguing for polygamy - I can see that that doesn't work. It's just strange to me that it should be like that. Is it because humans have a limited amount of love to give, and we can't possibly have the relationship a marriage ought to be with more than one person? Is it because of the jealousy that seems to be inherent in sexual relationships? Is intimacy somehow valuable only to the extent that it is exclusive? The general point of all of this, if you got lost on my rabbit-trails, is that there may be restrictions on the degree of intimacy that can or should be experienced between two or more people. I don't know what these may be or what their purpose is, or how it all may relate to God's strange ideas about sex.

As I've said before, I don't understand God. He alternately befuddles and bores me, and I've never been able to feel close to him in any way. I'm often not completely convinced of his existence. God cannot be hugged. He can be spoken to, but not spoken with. He can be worshiped, but this is not a particularly pleasing or fulfilling experience for me. I know of no way of connecting with God. What I see most in my life is people, and it is only through people that I see (or rather, choose to see) God. God loves me through people. He challenges me, ministers to me, encourages and uplifts me through people. Often I get weary of grasping at God. I've heard it said that Christ forms connections between Christians, allowing us to know and love each other better. This may be true in some intangible, mystical way, but it's only a theory - there is no practical application in my life. In my own life in fact I see the reverse: I relate to God and he relates to me through other people.

It just occurred to me that God doesn't speak my love language. I need touch - this is key. Words of affirmation are also very important, as is quality time. Acts of service are good. Gifts come in last. Whenever Christians talk about God loving us, it's all about the gifts he gives us. God redeemed us. He gives us with many blessings. ("Us" meaning my little circle of middle-class North American Christians with good families and friends and bright futures. Never mind most of the world, who are not blessed by God by this definition.) I don't mean to say that I'm indifferent to or ungrateful for these things - they just don't stir me to profound passion and gratitude. Frankly, they leave me feeling empty. To me gifts without time, talk and touch are flaky and fake - the currency of dead-beat dads and detatched, indifferent parents. Please understand, I'm not whining about this. I'm not all that bitter about it, just a little disappointed. God gives me gifts, and that's good. The greatest gifts he gives me are people who can love me the way I need to be loved. That these people are the gifts of God, the agents of God in my life, I have no doubt. Let them love me and let me love them, and I will be content. What gets me is when people tell me that's not enough - I must go back to God himself and show genuine love to him. That feels so unfair to me. I feel no love for this God. How can I? I don't know him. I'm not angry with him really. I don't hate him, we just have no relationship. Try to get your head out of Church-land and hear what I'm saying: This God is not my father - he's just the one who fathered me. I'm like some kid raised by a single mom who's dragged off one day to see his dad. I can't run up and kiss this guy and say that I love him, as if he were really my father. I can't pretend that he tucked me in every night, that he came to my soccer games, that he talked with me and laughed with me and lived with me all these years. I'm not angry at God. I really think we could get along fine. I could respect him, even obey him. Just don't ask me to love him. I can't and I won't sell my love so cheap. I feel nothing for God, except maybe a quiet reverence or respect. Unless you press me to love him - then I get frustrated and confused. God loves me through people. Why can't I just love him through people? Why can't I die to myself and care about my brothers and give myself up for them and let that be enough? Why do you insist that I talk to this God? Haven't you noticed that he doesn't respond?

Oh, give me religion! Simply tell me what I must do to please the silent God. I can do rituals. I can follow laws. I can even pray liturgy, if you want me to. I can talk to God, just don't ask me to talk with God. It's not possible. I'm weary of my struggle for relationship with him. Like Sylvia, daddy, I'm through.

...But who am I kidding? (I'm speaking softly now, smiling ruefully, sheepishly, bitterly up at you.) We both know how this ends. We've played this out before. I get fed up with God, you steer me back. I don't know. Like a dog who's peed on the rug, I feel guilty, vaguely aware that I've done something that will incur displeasure (that is, something "wrong"). I feel like I've failed you, and for that I am sorry. Steer me back again.