The Limits of Knowledge

The pastor on Sunday morning said some stuff that was pretty provocative. The whole sermon was on being loved by God, resting in that love, growing in that love, experiencing that love, and in so doing, having all fear cast aside.

It was a good message for me, one of many components right now giving me the needed reminder that God loves more than I can possibly imagine, and it's about time I start resting in the security that brings.

But the pastor was treading in some dangerous waters when he started tearing down our idols of knowledge. He was talking about the breadth and length and height and depth of a love that surpasses knowledge.

"Here's our problem....In the church of America today, we have an unprecedented access to information. We have never had as much access to good Christian information as we do right now. The accessibility of good teaching on the internet, radio, or TV, the accessibility of good podcasts, good theology; it is all around us. I really believe that for a lot of us we have this almost orgy-astic approach to knowledge, hoping that somehow we can learn enough, or going from one conference to the next trying to find or hear that one thing that is going to fix you. It cannot work! What we need is not more information! We've got all the information that we could ever stand! Our education about God far exceeds our capacity to ever live any of it! We have received so much good information--our heads are chock-full! ... There is a knowledge of the love of Jesus that surpasses knowledge, you can't learn about it in your head, it doesn't come from getting more information, from seven steps, from a formula. The only way it works is if God supernaturally by his Holy Spirit reveals it to you. This is the reason Paul prays for it!"

This sounds too loose and free and easy for people in my circles, but I found myself nodding my head. We do have more information these days than we could ever stand. We can read classic works for free on Google Books. We can get a full seminary education for free on iTunes. We shop around asking who the best teachers are listen to their sermons throughout the week. We've got Kindles and iPads and any other tool you can imagine.

None of this is necessarily bad, but I have come to a point recently realizing that somewhere along the line, enough is enough. Not that we stop learning, but that we must be sure to actually do something with the things we're learning.

Unfortunately, the same people gorging themselves on this knowledge are often the same people who aren't doing much with their faith except to sit around in circles of friends and rehash everything they're learning. It's hording. It's gluttony. It's defeating the purpose of learning. And it's sinful.

To whom much is given, much is required. If you're given a whole lot of solid teaching, you better start acting on it somewhere along the line, taking the earbuds out just long enough to hear what your neighbor is trying to say to you.

If you know me, you know that I am by no means against knowledge or against these various means of learning more. But I have to agree with this Pastor that reading more books is not going to help us be loved any more. Resting in that love, understanding yourself as a secure child adopted into God's family, is much more important in ministry than listening to one more sermon. And that rest comes only through prayer. It is a spiritual battle won only by the Holy Spirit.

All this comes at a time where a gigantic binder filled with a lifetime of information for navigating life in cross-cultural ministry is dumped on me, and most days I am completely overwhelmed, feeling as though I'm not at all even keeping my head above water. Many days I need to zoom out, and remember the primary issue at hand is resting in the breadth, length, height, and depth of the love of God.

Interestingly enough, though, as I was mulling over all of this through the week, I came across this startling article about our level of Biblical literacy, saying that "nearly half (48%) of Americans who are affiliated with a religion say they 'seldom' or 'never' read books (other than Scripture) or visit websites about their own religion." Obviously, there's a balance here. There seem to be two populations. The ones with a bent towards education reading too much and the ones who are simply disinterested, not reading anything. So, all this isn't a call to throw away our books all together. Avoiding knowledge isn't the answer. Some clearly need a sermon in the opposite direction, on loving God with our minds and being transformed by the renewal of our minds and...

I was reminded, then, of this quote from a novel I taught last year. It describes this tension and balance well.

"I think you should learn, of course, and some days you must learn a great deal. But you should also have days when you allow what is already in you to swell up inside of you until it touches everything. And you can feel it inside you. If you never take time out to let that happen, then you just accumulate facts, and they begin to rattle around inside of you. You can make noise with them, but never really feel anything with them. It's hollow."

Knowledge puffs, but love builds.

The View from Our End

(Everybody in!)

Maybe, Maybe Not

Our family may or may not have eaten a banana split for dinner tonight. If we did, it was to commemorate a special occasion.

I may or may not have just ordered a five pound bag of coffee off the internet. If I did, it was because the price was right.

Communion

We went to our first Catholic mass last night. I don't want to talk bad about it, because we Evangelicals do plenty of flippant Catholic-bashing already. I know there are some Christ-following Catholics out there, and I know there are some people finding some real meaning in their Catholicism. I don't know much about it, so I have very little room to criticize. All I will say is this. From my view in one of the back pews, trying to keep my kid quiet as he either explored the acoustics by hooting into the cathedral's caverns or screamed from being squeezed into some sort of semi-submission, things seemed cold, distant, foreign, ritualistic, forced, obligatory. I really wanted to understand some of it, especially before throwing out adjectives of condemnation, but it was so impossible to break in as a visitor. I couldn't even understand most of the words that were being said, mostly due to the muddy acoustics and the distance from where I was sitting. Even the bulletin offered no explanation. I watched communion proceed, sitting this one out, feeling like I was observing from the back of the church figuratively besides literally.

This morning we went to a hipster church. Almost too hip for its own good. I was just glad I was in my twenties and could tell anyone that I own two Apple computers if they'd have asked. I don't say this out of disdain, because I actually quite enjoyed the service. After a meandering but very compelling sermon on the perfect love of Christ casting out all fear, this church, too, served communion. Similar to the mass, people left their pew, walking down the middle aisle, taking a piece of bread from one elder, dipping it in the wine from another elder, eating and walking back.

It's amazing the difference context can make. Same ingredients, same ritual, same origin, but worlds different.

But what was most moving was watching a young mother go forward ahead of us, taking and eating the bread and wine with the smallest, most content, most peaceful, most beautiful sleeping baby curled up and resting in her arms against her breast.

The act of communion last night brought tension, discomfort, stress, confusion. Watching and participating in the act of communion this morning--especially with this vivid picture before us, being a child of God through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ--brought a strong sense of rest, contentment, peace in the arms of the Father, thankful for a strong love that casts out fear.

Not Good Enough or Too Good to be True

I'm thankful for several readings we've been assigned that are making the gospel even more clear. Tonight was the "a-ha" of Isaiah 64:6.

"All our righteous acts are like filthy rags."

I always assumed this meant even our best acts weren't good enough before a holy God. That's only part of it. Our best acts might be plenty good, might be too good, so good that we rely on them for our righteousness instead of God and his work through Jesus Christ. So good that we are seeking a goodness on our own apart from Christ.

When we repent, we repent not only of the "bad stuff" we've done, but also--and in some cases more often--we repent of the "good stuff" we've done on our own. Like our own beautiful and industrious tower of Babel, those righteous acts are trying to achieve a name for ourselves, trying to reach God on our own strength.

Like the rich young ruler, it's not enough to follow every commandment. We are called to give up self-earned security, finding security instead in Jesus Christ and him alone.

And as has been said here recently, this is not only a conversion repentance, but a daily repentance. If our conversion begins by declaring our dependence on God, so it must continue.

"For only crazy people would think they could complete by their own efforts what was begun by God. If you weren't smart enough or strong enough to begin it, how do you suppose you could perfect it?"

Lessons in Just Making It

If you're going to make the dough by hand when the bread machine stops working and cook the sauce from scratch with your homegrown tomatoes, then do not, I repeat do not, finish the pizza with store-brand shredded mozzarella cheese, the kind that mysteriously refuses to melt in the oven, making the whole pizza resemble the pies in the frozen section that only cost a dollar and can conveniently be prepared in the microwave.

We've seen His Glory

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only..."

I really wanted to go there. I entertained the idea for several days before giving it up. I even sent help-cry of an email to Dan, who's done a lot more thinking on glory than I have in his effort on writing about the topic.

Glory's one of those words that we throw around a whole lot, but when you stop to ask what it really means, no one's quite sure. What does it mean to glorify God or to give him glory or bring him glory?

That's not to say we're just ignorant or ineloquent or flippant with our cliches (though that might be a part of it too). I think it's primarily one of those concepts that you feel more than you can describe. I know when something is glorious, and usually when I know it's glorious, that's the only word I can use to describe it, that's as close as it gets.

Dan helped me to understand a bit that glory can often equate to the presence of God. That gives an understanding, but still, the feeling of it doesn't quite translate.

Whatever it is, we know that Jesus is full of God's glory--he's filled with God's presence--and that it is evident, John could see it.

And you're beginning to see why I knew I couldn't include it that Sunday morning, because to touch on it for just a few moments would not quite do it justice, especially with my limited understanding of the topic.

But I love the idea that, with the presence of God now within us, we too have glory. And as we become more Christlike, we become more glorious, a glory that points back to God himself.

"...Now if the ministry that brought death, which was engraved in letters on stone, came with glory...will not the ministry of the Spirit be even more glorious? If the ministry that condemns men is glorious, how much more glorious is the ministry that brings righteousness! For what was glorious has no glory now in comparison with the surpassing glory. And if what was fading away came with glory, how much greater is the glory of that which lasts!

Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold. We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to keep the Israelites from gazing at it while the radiance was fading away...But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away...And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

And then there's the idea of glorification, when this process of becoming like him will be completed. We've already seen his glory, so now we can reflect his glory, but one day when we see him as he is, we'll be like him fully.

"Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears,we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."

And if you can't feel that, well, then, I'm not sure what more to say. That's where the thought was left in the editing process. That's where I'll leave it here, too.

...unless Dan has anything to add?

Recent Lessons from James

"Now listen, you who say, 'Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.' Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, 'If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that.' As it is, you boast and brag. All such boasting is evil. Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins."

If you're going to die as quick as the steam rising from your cup of coffee, why not get the dying over with today? Put your big plans and your way of doing things to death. Entrust your life and your ideas to the one who not only knows but also controls what tomorrow will bring. We dig in our heels and refuse to do so, because it feels as though we're losing control. But that's exactly the point--you don't even know what will happen tomorrow. You have no control. Isn't there great rest and security in surrendering that false sense of power, in giving control to the one who actually has it?

---

"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed."

Is there any more powerful verse for living in community with others? What would happen to all of our attempts of mind manipulating, agenda pushing, debate winning, status gaining, idea twisting, conflict avoiding, side taking, hair splitting, if we simply followed these two rules?

Evangelicals are absolutely terrible at confessing sin to one another. We think we don't need to, we think it damages our reputation, we think the gospel is more appealing if we're as perfect as possible. But how powerful to come before another person admitting faults, admitting brokenness, admitting selfishness, admitting ugliness. It gives the other person permission to do the same thing. Think of the barriers this brings down. All of a sudden, we're on the same team, we're in this together.

And what if we prayed for one another in this as well? Not praying that the other would be convinced my way is right, but praying for whatever burden that man is carrying, praying that we would understand one another, praying that we would keep our eyes fixed on Jesus rather than on our agenda. More barriers come crumbling down.

I am no longer on the defense, trying to protect myself. All is laid bare for you to see. We can finally get down to work together.

What would the church look like if we followed these two instructions? For starters, as James says, we'd be healed.

A Grandfather called "Brother"

If I weren't meeting her halfway with the sugar she needed or the eggs we needed, I would typically be walking back with my parents. To the corner of our yard, through the overgrown weeds and around the garden, up to the back porch of the Cassels. Maybe for the annual neighborhood picnic, or visiting PJC alumni, or just saying hello.

With Mrs. Cassel, it was finding birds' nests, spotting robins in spring, or singing a song about puffy white clouds whenever they were in the sky. It was eating a treat there and leaving with a bag of snack mix. With Mr. Cassel, it was stories and questions.

Somewhere along the line, towards the end of high school, I started receiving invitations to visit alone. A casual lunch by myself or dinner with a few other friends of mine. Those visits continued through college, as I would make the same walk back through the yards, going to give updates about my progress at Taylor.

Dinner usually ended with devotions. She would read from the devotional book and he would read from The Message. And his slow prayers never had the cliche phrases I was used to hearing. It seemed like he was actually talking to someone, someone he knew, with some thought and depth of meaning. Those prayers usually put a lump in my throat.

One summer it was a thought-provoking book club. A few weeks before my wedding, it was teaching him how to sing a Magnetic Fields song. (The syncopation was tricky.)

Somewhere in the past five years or so, I have grown enough in ways that some people see me fit to pursue this beast called "full-time ministry." Five years doesn't seem like enough time for something like that, but it's happened somehow. Subtle though it often seemed, Mr. Cassel has played a big role.

(Let's not let him take all the credit, though, as Mrs. Cassel no doubt prepared me in the early years--especially with her tireless ministry to 2 and 3 year-olds--then handed me off to his care.)

Some days it was simply having someone to admire. Some days it was the stories that gave insight to a particular struggle. Some nights it was the prayer. Many times it was simply his willingness to listen. Listening to thoughts, ideas, some of them no-doubt off base, some of them immature. Listening to complaints, plenty of complaints. But every time, listening so graciously. Sometimes gentle correction. Sometimes the encouraging exhortation that would bring me to tears: "Don't despair. Press on."

It was taking a risk and asking me to teach a Sunday school on the book of Isaiah with him. A book I had never explored. I had no idea what I was doing, but I learned a lot. Then there was the Sunday he was supposed to teach and got sick. I visited his bedside on Saturday morning, and he handed off his notes, gave me a few thoughts, and entrusted the lesson to me. Yikes.

It was helping me prepare for sermons, then sitting in the first few rows as I delivered them.

And of course, there was that fateful question that continued to ring through my head on several occasions. Out of the blue, yet well-placed, timely, and needed. Not long after, there was the time he took me to a weekend retreat where other young men were considering the idea of full-time ministry. We shared a bunk bed there, which was kind of funny.

Somewhere along the line, Mr. Cassel became Carl. Somewhere along the way, he became a grandfather to me. And somewhere after that, we started calling each other, "brother." I don't care who it necessarily is or the nature of the relationship, at the very least, it's a real privilege to consider someone 50 years older than you a friend.

I have to wonder where and how often this sort of mentorship is happening? I have reason to believe it's not happening enough. I hear older generations worrying about where the next generation of leaders will come from. I trust God to build his church, but I often wish those fretting would start doing something about it. Maybe some are scared, nervous, not really knowing what to do or how to go about it. Carl's example shows it's not anything fancy or technical or structured. It's allowing others to observe your life, it's listening, it's guiding, and it's offering opportunities for partnership.

The other week, Erica and the kid and I ate lunch with the Cassels for what could likely be the last time in a while. We shared about our future transitions and they shared about what it was like to be getting old. I was holding it together relatively well until we said goodbye and set out on the walk through the backyard.

We left out the back door and walked through the grass--the same exact way I have been doing for 24 years. The same walk, but no longer a middle schooler, high schooler, college student, or young married man. The same walk, now holding the hands of a toddler and a wife, setting out on a journey full of unknowns. So much has changed, so much is changing. Yet so much--including the testimony of the brother Carl and sister Charlene--has proved that God is good and he is faithful. (Don't despair. Press on.)

And I've been with them enough to know they'd want that to be the focus.

Gospel

You never trust a millionaire quoting the sermon on the mount
I used to think I was not like them
but I'm beginning to have my doubts, my doubts about it.

When you're hiding underground the rain can't get you wet
But do you think your righteousness
could pay the interest on your debt? I have my doubts about it.
-Arcade Fire, from City with no Children


The origin and essence of all Christian life are consummated in the one event that the Reformation has called the justification of the sinner by grace alone. It is not what a person is per se, but what a person is in this event, that gives us insight into the Christian life. Here the length and breadth of human life are concentrated in one moment, one point; the whole of life is embraced in this event. What happens here? Something ultimate that cannot be grasped by anything we are, or do, or suffer. The dark tunnel of human life, which was barred within and without and was disappearing even more deeply into an abyss from which there is no exit, is powerfully torn open; the word of God bursts in. In this saving light, people recognize God and their neighbors for the first time. The labyrinth of their previous lives collapses. They become free for God and for one another. They realize that there is a God who loves and accepts them, that alongside them stand others whom God loves equally, and that there is a future with the triune God and God's church-community. Each believes, loves, hopes. The past and future of life flow together in God's presence.
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from Ethics.

Perspective on Space

Measured our apartment today. Approximately 500 sq. ft.
After doing so, found out the appropriately named "big room" at our house was 600 sq. ft.

Thankful for the big back yard here.

Grace and Truth

One of the scraps left laying on the floor in the editing process a few weeks back was the idea of Jesus being full of grace and truth.

The simplest way I see it is this:

The truth of Jesus is that we need God. The grace of Jesus is that we can access God.

Either one without the other is incomplete. If Jesus comes only full of truth, we need God and we're damned where we stand. If Jesus comes only full of grace, we can access God, but there's really no need to.

And then there is the fact that we as humans have such totally warped ideas of what truth is and what grace is. And many times we think the two are mutually exclusive. But Christ unites them perfectly. His truth is gracious and his grace is truthful. We see that real Truth without grace isn't really true and real Grace without truth isn't really gracious.

Then there's more. John goes on to say that from "the fullness of his grace" we have received "one blessing after another," or "grace upon grace."

My understanding of this phrase is that it is an inexhaustible supply. At the risk of cheapening the idea by likening it to the world of fast food, it's free refills. Or at the diner, a bottomless cup. "There's plenty more where that came from." When you think you've used it all, you turn and find more waiting.

So, his grace means we can access God, but the fullness of his grace means we can access God again and again and again.

Each day. Each hour. Each moment.

This is the central liberating truth of Christianity. This is what makes the yoke easy and the burden light. This is what brings inexpressible and glorious joy.

I don't think I fully appreciated this until recently. I was meeting with two friends, and in our weekly habit of meeting together we would express some of the things we found ourselves struggling with. It's no surprise that the same issues came up repeatedly, week after week. This can be tiring, frustrating, defeating, embarrassing, shameful. But finally, one week we realized that this is the gospel. Now, we obviously shouldn't be proud of our sin and we definitely shouldn't be dismissive of our sin. But the gospel means we can and must come running back to Christ week in and week out, and without shame! We should never grow tired of God's inexhaustible supply of grace in Christ Jesus. Isn't this what boasting in our weakness is all about?

And this is why we must never come to view the gospel as a once-and-done matter, a simple prayer, a well-intentioned commitment, a definitive choice, a monumental redirection. Instead, as our church plant tends to say, "We never get beyond the gospel." As our mission agency likes to say, "We must preach the gospel to ourselves each day."

In our independent spirit, we try to make the gospel a stepping-stone, a means to an end, a quick-fix cure that will get us to stop sinning as soon as possible. That's why we feel so embarrassed to find ourselves still struggling with sin. But the gospel is a beautiful declaration of dependence, and instead of the means, it is the end. It's a need that never goes away, and that's not a flaw in the system, it's part of the design.

We need Jesus, we have Jesus, and we must never be hesitant to run to him again.

And again.

Banjo?

One of the first orders of business in getting settled in our new place was rearranging pre-furnished wall hangings not exactly our style. We were a little bit startled to find this little creepy guy hanging in our bathroom. But as we quickly reached to take him down, the kid spotted him, got very excited and said, "BANJO!"
Well in that case, he might stay up a little bit longer.

PS: I graduated

Uncovered my graduation gown the other night, the one from when I got my masters degree in May but didn't walk, and so I finally decided to get the official photos before taking the gown out to the trashcan. Look! I've got a giant diploma! And a hood! Just in time for me to quit my job and take a giant pay cut!

Lost in the Trees

I usually only watch Take Away Shows of bands that I know. I'm glad for friends and brothers-in-law who tell me to watch others, because otherwise, I'd miss gems like these.

Lost In The Trees | A Take Away Show | Time Taunts Me from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

No, we'd prefer to donate them to a more worthy cause, ie: landfills.

Me: Hi, Staples. What do you do with the boxes that reams of paper come in? Can I get a few for the big move I'm about to make?

Staples: Nope, we sell boxes for shipping, so those boxes get compacted and thrown away. We don't give them out.

Me: Well, gee, that makes sense. Thanks anyway!

I bet Jim at Dunder Mifflin would give me some boxes. With a complimentary fruit basket, even.

Next phone call? Lady Americana Mattress company to ask, "Hey, can you give me a new mattress since ours makes funny spring-like noises, even though we lost the warranty card and the store we bought it from went bankrupt after being sued by the state of New Jersey? Please?"

Things I'll Miss From Teaching: The First Day

School starts today, and I'm not there.

Lots of people have been asking me what it's like to not be returning to the classroom this fall. It's not all that different from how I felt at the end of the year; parts of me greatly relieved, parts of me quite wistful.

I stopped by school at the end of the day yesterday, say hello, give my good wishes, offer a few pep talks. The weirdest moment was driving into Bethlehem, where I've taught for five years, knowing I was about to leave it all behind for good.

There is plenty I'll miss, and plenty I won't miss. I won't miss the incessant counting of workbooks and worksheets and the organizing of folders and textbooks and the sharpening of pencils and the logistics of records and so on and so forth. Of course, the school was a flurry of this sort of activity yesterday; unpacking of boxes, checking of rosters, running the copier.

There is nothing much more miserable than the first day of school, for students and teachers alike. Erica started a tradition of getting my photo on the first day of school, and there were some pretty despondent expressions she captured over the years. (In some, I had just finished puking, trying my best not to get it on my tie.)

And yet, I find myself missing the first day of school today. I was finally getting to the point where the first day wasn't so stressful--full of unknowns and faking confidence--and much more a relaxed day of setting the tone. Of hopes and expectations, of creating classroom culture. Discovering new personalities, navigating first impressions.

Maybe all of this is easy for me to say now that I'm on the other side.

Regardless, I guess the answer is, I'm really going to miss teaching. But I'm really excited for what's ahead.