Law of Love

The Body of Christ has rightly understood that Christ defeated sin and has ultimately won the victory of salvation from sin for humanity.  Yet in seeing Christ already ultimately victorious, as fulfilling the Law, and "that works of the Law cannot justify anyone before God" (Hans Denck, "Concerning True Love,' 114-5), many of the "body parts" have lost the connection between the perfect love and mercy and grace given to them through Christ and the holiness that should of necessity spring from it.

In a recent post on AtheismForLent.net, a contributor says:  "What if the resurrection was up to us?  How differently and passionately would we live if it was upon our shoulders to bring a resurrected Jesus to the lost, and without us God was dead?  Because I would argue [that] without a church willing to live as though this is true, we'll continue to live in a world that views God as nothing more than an antique."

That post is following the topic of Nietzsche's often-misunderstood "God is dead" quote, and I am not wishing to engage that nor to imply that I think we have anything to do with Christ's own resurrection.  However, I do resonate with this poster's statement that it is "upon our shoulders to bring a resurrected Jesus to the lost," to be "a church willing to live as though this is true."

Because of the social orders, the actions and the ways of living that the Church has professed and carried out in the past two millennia, God truly does look dead to many of the world—or at least an antique with no real impact in our present world but sentimental value.

Into this space Hans Denck describes our salvation as one that should make God very much alive to the world.  He contends that "only to the extent that one beholds [or holds in front of them, in their vision] the perfection of the Spirit is one saved" (114).  He explains that Moses, acting righteously on behalf of justice, killed an Egyptian to protect an Israelite brother—but perfect love would have moved him to die for that brother instead (114).

"We can see then why it is written that works of the Law cannot justify anyone before God.  The justification by faith which is worthy before God far surpasses the works of the Law.  For perfection forsakes the concessions contained in the Law...  Now one might object that nothing can be added to or taken away from the Law... Yet to this one must reply that love is the very essence of the Law, which nobody can practice too perfectly or understand too profoundly" (114-5).

If "love is the very essence of the Law," echoing Jesus' own words in Matthew 22, then Denck's conclusion absorbs the tension often felt in Matthew 5.17-8: "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.  For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one iota, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished."

The law is fulfilled in Christ's perfection.  Yet, Christ's perfection does not abolish the law:  Perfection actually extends the law—as the rest of Matt. 5 shows Jesus extended common teachings, even some directly quoting the Torah ("You have heard it said... but I tell you...").  Gerhard Lohfink, in Jesus and Community, explains how this move by Jesus "makes clear that in Matt. 7.24-7 the teaching of Jesus takes the place of the Torah. Now the Torah was Israel's order of life, its social order... For the people of God to exist as a community, its social order has to be put into practice" (Kindle location 725).

Anyone who claims to follow Christ does not merely follow cognitive propositions about our present state or eternal destination(s):  Instead, we must continuously be the Body of Christ by holding Christ—his teachings and perfection—ever before us, so that love might rule us as law.

Bartolomé de las Casas concludes that "what Christ does teaches us, because the Father gave Him to us as a witness, a leader, a teacher... That means obey Him, imitate Him. He teaches not just by words but by deeds as well what one must do to imitate Him" (The Only Way, 80).  This same Jesus also speaks of the fundamental nature of the works he does.  In his own words, "If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me.  But if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father" (John 10.37-8); therefore, our life (and particularly our evangelizing) should be founded on living out the love which naturally perfects us first, then allow our words to rest upon that tangible reflection of Christ.

If the church, both institutionalized and not, should come to live this out, then even the world that doesn't know Christ would be hard pressed to deny the existence of Christ's perfect love.

The Follower

I'm not one for astrology, for fate, or spiritualizing every little thing that happens... But tonight, I saw a sign in the stars.

My Zodiac sign is Taurus, my sign the Bull.  We "Taureans" are supposed to be known as lovers of beauty, primarily, among other things like comfort and love and pleasure.  So, it would be fitting that I find the stars beautiful, and that I find comfort among them as well.

One of my favorite pastimes is to sit and watch the stars, with a pipe over which to mull if I can; with fire and friends, even better.  The brightest star in my sign, Alpha Tauri, is known by the name "Aldebaran"—taken from the Arabic al-dabaran, "the follower," because it is said to follow the Pleiades or "Seven Sisters" through the sky.  It's also depicted as the "eye" of the Bull.  When I don't know where else to look in the sky, when my thoughts are scattered and I just need a point of direction, Aldebaran is the point to which my eyes always return.

We need these points, do we not?  These familiars, these friends, who we know will always be where we can find them.  One point of consistency helping us see the greater picture set before us.

Maybe it's silly, maybe it's sad, maybe it's me just wishing I could be like one of the great mystics, but I have come to identify a bit with this star, Aldebaran.  Perhaps because I'm trying to be a follower myself.  Perhaps because I feel I've been chasing the Pleiades through the sky, and that the chase seems to have no end.

Tonight, if you looked up at the sky around 10 or 11 p.m. Central time, you would have seen one bright star shining right next to the Moon.  Yep, it was my star.  It was almost, but not quite, eclipsed by the bright Moon.  And from my house in the middle of Abilene, the Moon made it almost impossible to even see the Pleiades at all.  It was like the Follower's chase was over.  The Pleiades would never have let themselves be caught, but the Moon—the bigger, brighter, more luminous and brilliant and beautiful Moon—came right to him.  And in fact, the light of the Sisters could barely even be found anymore.

It made me think of what I had read earlier today from Gregory of Nyssa, in his The Life of Moses:
     "Such an experience seems to me to belong to the soul which loves what is beautiful.  Hope always draws the soul from the beauty which is seen to what is beyond, always kindles the desire for the hidden through what is constantly perceived.  Therefore, the ardent lover of beauty, although receiving what is always visible as an image of what he desires, yet longs to be filled with the very stamp of the archetype.
     "And the bold request which goes up the mountains of desire asks this: to enjoy the Beauty not in mirrors and reflections, but face-to-face."

The Follower had been chasing many luminaries, which even together were not bright enough to match his own brightness.  But when Luna herself came to him, it seemed the old lights had dimmed, and the brightest star in Taurus had been met by a luminary more bright and beautiful than any he thought it possible to pursue.

Let's be clear—I'm not saying I've met a Moon for my Aldebaran.
Not even sure that's what I think it means anyway, if it means anything at all.
But I saw a sign.  One that made me stop and stare.  One that made me smile, and feel a little hope that might just draw me into something beautiful, as Greg mentioned above.

And that's the kind of beauty that this Taurean wants in his world—the hopeful kind.

The kind that tells me that I should seek after my own Luna, whose brightness comes not from herself but the one she reflects.

The kind that makes me want to see that Light face-to-face, as Moses did, and that gives me the courage to follow it.

The kind that makes me feel free in singing a song to whoever may one day be by my own side, even though I have no idea who she is.  Synchronistically, tonight it just happened to be a song by "The Lumineers"...

"Be in my eyes; be in my heart.
Be in my eyes, aye aye aye; be in my heart.
So now I think that I could love you back,
And I hope it's not too late 'cause you're so attractive;
And the way you move,
I won't close my eyes...
Be in my eyes; be in my heart.
Be in my eyes, aye aye aye; be in my heart."

One Full Week

Beware low expectations—you just might feel foolish for having them.

Last Monday I began my spring semester with a five-day short course studying and practicing a system of governance called "Dynamic Governance" or "sociocracy."  I've had quite a bit of first-hand experience in it since April 2012, so I really only took the class to get 3 credit hours out of the way.  In fact, I expected to be doing more explaining to peers than learning anything new.

All that to say, I entered the week expecting to be bored.

I came out of it with gifts from God, a new desire to follow up some career leads, and excitement about summer opportunities.

I have two years left in seminary and no desire to make ministry my paycheck.  So I need some guidance, and God, being God's paradoxical Self, simultaneously gave me just that while not speaking to me at all.  I'll save the details, but God basically gave me a gift that I opened to find empty—which was exactly what I needed.  By not giving me anything, God gave me rest, guidance, and told me that I was trusted (metaphorically, to fill the empty container; literally, to make a choice).

And that's where it begins:  God tells me that I am trusted, that I am trustworthy, empowered to choose.  Which beings me to some choices to make.

First, I have desired to speak to some local experts in journalism about places to begin discerning whether I want to write for a career or not.  And due to a serendipitous e-mail, I had dinner with one of those people on Friday!  I came out with sage advice, encouragement to practice copy editing or find a freelance niche, and an established freelance writer to use as a resource.

Can I say how encouraged I am by that?  I've already signed up as a peer reviewer for ACU's Graduate School Journal and would love to try my hand as a General Editor next year.  Plus, if I had a dream for writing at all, it would be to have the freedom to travel, to find the stories I desired, and have someone pay me for them—freelance journalism at its finest.  Of course, that takes a lot of networking and other work on the front end.  So I have to choose whether or not to start that work now.

Now, remember that class by which I expected to be so bored?  Turns out even those low expectations became a smothering ruin under the fire of my own excitement.

Learning about this governance system, this style of (communal) leadership I might say, caused the old, dust-covered shelves of my Leadership Development and Theory undergrad education to begin to creak and groan.  I've been inspired, perhaps in the biblical sense even, to investigate those old niches of learning, the old papers and notes, because I intend to use this as part of my Field Education component this summer.  One idea for a vocational that I have had is to be a sort of bridge-builder or mediator within a network of faith-based organizations and house churches, and learning about this type of governance has made that very idea seem possible.

Now here's the poetical portion:  I started this blog solely because it was required for a LD&T class on volunteer (nonprofit) leadership; I intend to spend part of my summer in Los Angeles volunteering, observing, and researching a faith-based nonprofit there.

It's like I'm going in circles... and I think I like circles!  *shudder at the thought I might actually like NASCAR*

I would do this volunteer/observation time at HomeBoy Industries, a nonprofit that has services including a bakery, a diner, a coffee shop, embroidery, a farmer's market, legal and education services, and they seek to employ former convicts, school dropouts, and unemployed persons.  It seems they seek to heal the social wounds that trap many people in poor, gang-controlled environments.  It seems they also seek to heal the wounds keeping people from knowing God.

Holistic healing.
Holistic empowerment.
Holistic liberation.
Yeah, I could definitely be a part of that.

Now I just have to choose to make the necessary phone calls.

You've been too good to me this week, God.  Too good.
It certainly has been a full week.

Watch Night

You think tonight is New Year's Eve?  Think again.

Tonight is Watch Night.

In point of fact, it is actually the 150th anniversary of the first Watch Night.  On December 31, 1862, free African-Americans and abolitionists gathered in their local churches, waiting for the midnight hour to strike—the hour that the Emancipation Proclamation took effect.  When January 1, 1863, began, slavery in America was pronounced dead.

Since that time, many in the Christian tradition have remembered this event, not ignoring the evil that came before and being thankful for the good that came after.  And so they should!—for it was a little over two millennia ago that the Christ himself proclaimed, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor and has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor" (Luke 4.18-19).

What beautiful news!  What a great charge by which humans could live! If only...

Yet, there is a catch.  The Emancipation Proclamation did not make the slaves free, but only changed the tenor of the war from unification to liberation; the 13th Amendment ensured the right of freedom for them.  And even though followers of Christ have spread throughout the world, supposedly carrying Jesus' proclamation of freedom with them, the International Justice Mission estimates that at least 27 million people are held in some form of slavery worldwide—many of whom are in the sex trade, in places as far as India and as close as Houston, Texas.  Do you see the connection?

I see a need to make a proclamation into something concrete.  I see a need to bring the "law of Christ"(i.e. Gal. 5.6: "For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything; the only thing that counts is faith working through love") into power so that the proclamation of Christ will be realized.

"The creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God" (Rom 8.19-21).

And, praise God, those who belong to the Way that Christ immortalized are "all children of God through faith" (Gal. 3.26)—they are the ones upon whose revealing creation has been waiting.

So here, a week after remembering the "midnight hour" of all creation's healing in Christ's birth, we find ourselves again on the cliff of a new year.

The proclamation has been made, signed in the blood of the King.

The war continues, "nation rising against nation, and kingdom against kingdom... This is but the beginning of the birth pangs;" yet, the war has been changed.

Slaves are called free, and now are charged by the King to spread that freedom.

So in this night in which so many celebrate beginning anew, let us watch closely.  Let us remember freedom proclaimed, and receive that freedom given in love.  It will honor pain, praise virtue, encourage a heart in despair, remember the forgotten, sit with the lonely, laugh in mirth, and meet the unforeseen future with courage; and, if you have it, then share it with those around you—it's meant for all people, everywhere.

"For in hope we were saved..."

Mercies

Κύριε Ἰησοὺ Χριστὲ Θεοῦ ὐιὲ ἐλέησόν με τὸν ἁμαρτωλό.
(Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner - The Jesus Prayer)

It's been a dry and empty few weeks, with only reading, writing, and Aggie football dictating my life.  Yet I've heard a word from God.  I've been affirmed by brothers.  I've seen hope in communities.
And I'm thankful for these (small?) mercies.

For the time being, my Missional Residency group has been practicing a "trial Rule of Life," and I decided to use my journals to create a daily prayer for myself.  My journals are full of records of the mercies I've received, so I put them together.

The funny thing about mercies or gifts that we receive is that they often instigate responses.  I can't receive a new and stylish shirt from my younger sister and not feel grateful.  I have to wear the shirt, and therefore I actually become more stylish because of that gift, because I use that gift, because I become familiar with it. (Shallow and egotistical analogy, I know, but it still works).

I receive mercies from the communal God, and I cannot but respond.

So here is my response, as much a mindset and "way of being" than anything else:


"Before I speak, I wait in silence.
Before I ask, I give thanks.
Before I think, I pray.

And these I see:
Knowledge, yet Mystery;
Anger, yet Grace;
Fear, yet Trust;
Depression, yet Hope—
And I call them Beautiful.
For from Shame comes Honor;
From Detachment, Intimacy;
From Passion, Harmony;
From Chaos, Life;
By the Grace of God.

Lord, let me believe in You and your works.
Wisdom, let me hear your voice.
King, let my abundancies fill deficiency.

God who set each star in its place,
Let me learn to love the stars I am under.
Let gratitude be my attitude,
Even when there is nothing for me here.
Kyrie Eleison."

Also, some Mumford lyrics seemed to fit as a conclusion here:

Though I may speak

Some tongue of old

Or even spit out some holy word,

I have no strength

From which to speak

When you sit me down and see I'm weak.

—Mumford & Sons, "Not With Haste"

Bones

Where does most of the time, energy, focus and money go in your church?  Or, where does it go in your life in general?

Kent Smith gave my Missional Residency group a very interesting tool recently.  Looking at the different type (really, size) of groups that Jesus interacted with in his life on earth, this tool gives 7 unique and distinct Levels of Community:
1) Solo: by yourself - Mark 1.35, 6.45-6; Luke 4.42, 5.16.
2) Mono: group of 2 ("one other") - John 13.25, 21.20-4; also, the disciples were all called and sent in pairs in Mark.
3) Micro: group of 3-5 - Mark 14.32-4.
4) Meso: group of 12 - the Disciples.
5) Macro: group of 70-120 - Luke 10.1-12, Acts 1.15.
6) Metro: 1000s - "the crowds" in Jesus' ministry.
7) Mondo: the universal Church.

Generally, I (and others with whom I've spoken) get the sense that if you ask an individual which levels of community they could most live without, they first will drop Mondo, then Metro, then Macro:  We are beings who cannot live well without knowing and being known by at least a small, intimate group of people.

However, when we look back at my first question... then we will most likely see that often most of a church's money goes to Sunday morning/Sunday evening/Wednesday evening services built for the Macro or Metro level, and the more intimate (and more fulfilling, and more formative) levels are left to fend for themselves. (I would love to actually see some research on this.  When I have time... hah)

That's like trying to build a building without a foundation.
Or rigging a sail to catch the wind without a mast.

No wonder I so often hear people saying they feel disconnected from a church even if they worship there every Sunday...

So, this upcoming weekend my Missional Residency group will begin taking the concrete steps of forming intentional Christian community by entering into a Rule of Life, or Way of Life, together.
We all gave voice to the desires and passions in our own spiritual lives to help create our own Rule, and it contains some common Christian practices:
—>Daily prayer
—>Daily Scripture reading
—>Weekly communal worship with Eucharist and confession

However, it also has a number of unique and specific things for us to do together, and the rest all focus on the Mono, Micro, and Meso levels that are at best left as optional secondary services of most larger churches:
—>regular 1 on 1 time with the same "soul friend" for greater encouragement and accountability
—>meeting regularly with the same gender-specific group of 3-5 members of our "church family" to ask "How is it with your soul?"
—>communally engaging in Silence, Solitude, and Fasting, among other disciplines
—>creating and nurturing relationships outside of the Church, and outside of our normal circles, with a soul friend or partner

These are the "bones" of what we've talked about; we'll iron out some more specific version today.  And I'm extremely excited to begin this entire process.

A note about "Rules of Life:"  These typically consist of disciplines that practicing Christians do anyway.  A Rule is merely a framework for helping a group do them consistently and hold each other accountable to them.  We create ours to be as liberating and freeing as possible while encouraging the practices we as a community find so necessary to living life with each other and God.

As my good friend Kester reminds us, "We should live the kind of life that requires more serious prayer."  And I believe this Rule of Life will be that more serious prayer for me—prayer in action.

Hopeless Wanderer

"Let anyone with ears to hear, listen!" - Mark 4.9, 23 

How often, and through which things, do we anticipate that we might hear a word from God?

Anyone who might actually read this blog probably is aware of Mumford & Sons' new album, "Babel."  I have long used Mumford songs as aids to my prayers, as vessels to carry me into more contemplative modes of listening to God (please see 'The Cave,' 'Winter Winds,' 'White Blank Page,' 'Awake My Soul,' 'Dust Bowl Dance,' among others).  This album as a whole has surpassed anything I've had in my possession before for that.  As I've told a few friends already, I learn more about life and human experience with every new Mumford song I hear.

We can cover the usage of "Christian" labels on music elsewhere—I don't think that tag is worth too much; God is a creating God, so when humans create art we bear that image more clearly and in so doing reveal the reality around us in more detail through new perspectives—so, even though I am not aware of any such label (or faith commitments) on this band's part, I will tell of how the Spirit of God has already used it to speak into this particular moment of my life.

I've been in Abilene, Texas, for near 14 months now.  Moving to this west Texas town has been a drag for me, primarily because I had built such a network of friends in Aggieland that not being in the midst of constant encouragement drained me greatly.  Not only that, but I have had quite a hard time finding a feeling of purpose outside of my studies here (more concrete developments happening on this desire; another update coming soon).

So as I hit the 3rd track of "Babel"—called "I Will Wait—a few of its lines begin to run around and around in my head:

These days of dust, which we've known,

Will blow away with this new sun.

But I'll kneel down, wait for now.

I'll kneel down, know my ground.

Raise my hands,

Paint my spirit gold.

And bow my head,

Keep my heart slow.

And I began to think about the sand around Abilene.

Then, last Wednesday night, my MRNA (Missional Residency in North America) cohort had a family cookout, with hot dogs, black bean burgers, and s'mores with Reese's (which, by the way, will change your life).  At the end of it all, a few of us followed our professor Kent Smith up a hill, and at the top we could see the lights of Abilene below us.  And under the stars, we prayed over the city.  I prayed about the sand.

I felt like I had been irritated by Abilene not being how I wanted it to be, much how I feel when I'm covered in sand in all the wrong places and can't get it all out.  So my prayer was for God to make the irritating grains of sand to become like pearls, so maybe I'd begin to cherish and value this place as God so obviously does.  So I consented to "kneel down," to "wait for now," and learn to praise God in that place regardless of feelings in the manner of the above lyrics.

Into this place the Spirit threw track #9, "Hopeless Wanderer."  Not only does it have a fitting title (right Ruth?), but the song as a whole seemed to be an exegesis of my life in this moment:

The shelter also gave their shade,

And in the dark I had no name.

Much how I feel some shelter from the Spirit's forming of me in my studies, yet there is a shadow under which I am grasping for some sense of present (as opposed to future) identity in ministry.

So when your hope's on fire,

But you know your desire,

Don't hold a glass over the flame

Don't let your heart grow cold.

I will call you by name,

I will share your road.

Just try to read those lines, as a Christian, and tell me that it doesn't fit the picture we share of being called, of being named (claimed, given identity) by God—the very God who in Jesus walked our dusty, wandering roads.

THEN, we hit the kicker, the line that made me start screaming like Rafiki as it rang in my ears:

Hold me fast! Hold me fast!

'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer.

I will learn, I will learn

To love the stars I'm under.

To love the stars I'm under.

SO SICK!

I could continue on about the lyrics of this album that so blatantly exclaim the realities of life, many of which the Church could learn to sing better, but I'll just stick to this point.  I have a hope that the changing, shifting ground upon which I stand will become valuable to me, and that I'll learn to love the stars I'm under.  I can eagerly anticipate a new sun, and even wait for it.  All because my road's been walked before by the One in whom I trust.  And because I know, by the always-active, always-listening God, that I am heard and not forgotten, and spoken to by even the most mundane things like a popular band's album:

"He who planted the ear, does he not hear?  He who formed the eyes, does he not see?" - Psalm 94.9:  God is a God who sees and hears us, and replies**; and, "Ever since the creation of the world God's eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things God has made." - Romans 1.20.

**Also see the Book of Job—and my blog about it, "Whirlwind of Trust"—and pay attention to 42.8-9, where God says that Job has spoken of God what is right... even though Job was calling God out.  Perhaps God hears us better than we expect, and even desires to be called out by us.