Why There is No Future in the Past

What do you do when things seem to be unraveling? When suddenly or overnight or out of nowhere or without explanation something in your circle of influence runs you over? A child, a marriage, a relationship, an opportunity, a job goes south?

Like it or not, this 'out of the blue' feeling is the reality that when the present isn't effectively managed, it has a way of becoming a past that builds and builds into 'the wave' that now seems ready to sweep away both your present and your future. It's like you're standing on the beach called 'the present' and you get washed away by an unexpected tsunmani called 'the past.'

Can you relate?

The hard to swallow truth is that there usually is no "suddenly." The past is, more often than not, something of our own creation. There are exceptions to that, for sure.

Regardless of who or how the past happened, it often ends up determining your future. "There and then" keeps you from living "here and now." It's not that the future is determined in the sense that we can't escape it no matter what, it's just that our past has become the most influential voice in our present. And so we futilely search for a future in the past.

As a result, we feel helpless against 'the wave.'

Enter the Gospel--the good news--of Jesus. It is the announcement that Jesus has taken the past and overwhelmed and overcome it, calming it's angry waters.

Paul, writer of much of the New Testament says it this way: "God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting men's sins against them." Jesus silences the voice of the past and invites us to live here and now in light of God's future; A future full of hope and possibility.

Can you see it?

The Glory of Men

"All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;

the grass withers and the flowers fall,

but the word of the Lord stands forever."

1 Peter 1:24

Your Illusions - Loving the Truth, part 6

How do you break through the illusions, mistaken perceptions and half-truths you tell yourself about yourself and your world?

It's just human nature to adopt views of ourselves and the world around us that make us comfortable...or rather, don't make us uncomfortable. So without some way to cut through the cozy mental couches we tend to rest on in our minds and hearts, we live with and through illusions, comforting ourselves with half-truths.

Jesus wasn't about illusions. He would burst anyone's bubble--causing temporary pain in the interest of long-term healing. The Kingdom of God--what he came to announce and demonstrate--is a place of reality and so requires a ruthless honesty. He used parables to do just that. Break through the illusions to reality.

I suspect Jesus was pointing to...transformation in seeing and hearing when he said it took "parables" to subvert our unconcious worldview--and thereby expose its illusions, even to us. Parables should make us uncomfortable if we are really hearing" them. If we fit them nicely in our business-as-usual world, parables have not served their purpose. A parable is supposed to change our operative worldview and unlock it from the inside--so that we can see and hear reality correctly.

What we have done for centuries in the West is give people new moral and doctrinal teaching without rearranging their mythic worldview. (And all it does is) create legalists, ritualists, minimalists, and literalists, who always kill the spirit of a thing."

From Richard Rohr's, The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective

Loving the Truth, Part 4 (aka, truth in advertising)

I went to heat something up in the kitchen at our church office and found the above can staring back at me when I opened the cabinet door looking for a plastic fork.

"America's favorite instant Mocha Cappuccino" it intoned, featuring an image of a Monk to ensure the integrity of the statement firmly ensconced itself in my mind.

I was a bit suprised by the claim because I've never actually heard of Cafe D'Vita Instant Mocha Cappuccino. Perhaps it's a form of cultural elitism to assume that what I've heard of is all that counts. But I'm pretty sure no one has heard of Cafe D'Vita.

Ever.

Even once.

I can only assume they put that on there to heighten the chance that someone would buy it, hoping for this sort of internal monologue to drive sales: "Hmm. I'm not sure what brand of instant mocha cappuccino to buy...oh, wait, it says here 'America's favorite brand.' They wouldn't just say that, so I guess I'll buy this."

In other words, they lied in order to get me to buy something.

Let me repeat that. They lied. In order to manipulate me.

And here's the ridiculous thing: I didn't mind it at all. In fact, I've come to accept that false claims are just part of the consumerist ball game. And if you're like me, you probably have too.

Which makes me wonder, in what ways do we do this in the church? Do we do this when:

• we print a stock photo of 'idyllic family A' to advertise the friendships in our small groups?
• we tell people that if they'll come to "x" event/or join "y" Small Group it will "change their lives"?
• we entice people to serve by telling them they will find the fulfillment they've always been looking for?
• we send out advertising to the community telling them that we've got exactly what they are looking for?

Do we oversell our claims in attempt to get people to buy out religious "product"? What if we loved the truth instead?

"Here's a picture of some of the old, wrinkly, slightly cantankerous people in our congregation. But they really will love you if you can see past the exterior that our culture doesn't prize very much."

"Come to "x" event and you'll have a good time, maybe deepen some friendships, maybe make some new ones."

"Join "y" small group and the relationships will take you a long time--maybe a year--until you really feel safe. But it's totally worth the investment."

"If you find a place to serve, your life will be busier, you'll have to say no to something else, and you'll often feel frustrated. But our model of serving is about sacrifice, not fulfillment."

"If you come to one of our services, you'll have the chance to encounter God, meet people who could become life-long friends, and find hope. But you'll have to make the investment for it to actually happen."

How would that fly?

Loving the Truth, part 3

Jared, one of my close friends, recently posted about his son's complete and utter truth telling in a way to summed up beautifually what I've been trying to understand and communicate in this series on Loving the Truth.

In his searching work (widely considered the greatest devotional writing of the last 500 years), The Imitiation of Christ, Thomas a Kempis said that we must learn to love the truth, no matter where it comes from. Easier said than done, because who actually likes to hear the truth about themselves?? We dodge, avoid, pull evasive maneuvers, defend, and justify all because we don't like to hear the truth.

John Wesley (heavily influenced by a Kempis' book) said that when we are with each we ought "to speak as plainly as possible" to each other. He encouraged a ruthless honesty buoyed by deep community.

Jared's son Jake (3 1/2 years old) apparently gets this better than the rest of us. An excerpt from Jared's post is below and you can read the whole post here.

Scholars have bantered about numerous ideas concerning what it means to become like a little child; I'm sure there's more than one possible answer. But
I was reminded the other day of one aspect of being child-like. We were out with a friend who was holding Jake's hand walking through a store. One of the women who worked there struck up a conversation with him and he politely answered all her questions. She said to him, "wow, are you always this good?" My friend started making some kind remarks about how nice he was and Jake interrupted with a vigorous head shake and a very clear, "No."

He was telling the truth. Even though it didn't put him in the best possible light, he just came right out with it. He didn't have the sophistication to think about how to answer the question in a way that would make him look as good as possible. He didn't think for a moment that his answer might cause him to be loved less. He just said what he knew to be true.

Loving the Truth, part 2

More on Thomas a Kempis' seed thought about the necessity of learning to love the truth no matter where it comes from if we are to pattern our lives after Jesus Christ.

It seems that in loving the truth, there are competitors. Things I can love more.

Like what I think. What I believe. What I know. All of which--and I don't think it's a very big stretch to say this--are tied up with my reputation, aka 'how I think I am perceived by the people I think are important.' It goes almost without saying that our list of who we think is important, based on our actions, usually goes beyond the people we first bring to our mind on that subject.

It seems that reputation and truth are often mutually exclusive (though this doesn't always have to be so).

If I love my reputation and what you say tarnishes something I've always thought. I'm probably going to get defensive (unless, as Proverbs 9:8 notes, I already happen to be wise). I can't be made the fool, so I must prove you wrong. Real conversation is then short-circuited in favor of posturing, image-management and subtle or not so subtle one-upsmanship.

If I love my reputation and something you say or do tarnishes how people will see me (in my perception), then I'll probably lie to cover it up. My reputation is too important to have it ruined by the truth. "How could I possibly get over this blow?" "How could my relationships go on like they've been?" "How can I continue doing my job?" "My ability to get things done will be gone." etc. goes the thinking.

Maybe what I say next won't be a 'whopper' of lie, maybe it will even be factually accurate, but it certainly won't be full-disclosure. My self-worth has become entwined with what you think of me and so the truth has now become my enemy.

I'm sure there are more instances of reputation vs. "x" that could be mined here.

Bottom line is that there has to be something bigger, or as Augustine noted, "something I love more than" my reputation for truth to take real root in my heart and mind. John was on to some serious psychological insight in his 1st letter: We love because we have been loved, not because we have our own back-warehouse supply of love from which to draw.

It is the fact, the reality, and the perceived feeling (something I think is just as important as the fact of the thing) of being loved by God that allows me to stop demanding satisfaction for my reputation and so to love the truth.

I know of no other way to live in this than to be in rich, thick community where an actual person regularly reminds me that I actually do matter and to daily begin the day accepting the love of God into the darkest and lightest places of my soul. Or as Tony Campolo says it, I must "surrender to God in the stillness and there let him invade me."

The monument above in Zwolle, Netherlands reads: "Here Thomas à Kempis lived in the service of his fellow man and wrote 'Imitation of Christ'"