Would you be impressed if a guy you know showed you his new Rolex he just bought for two thousand bucks? You would probably think it was quite a deal…if it were really a Rolex and you could tell the difference. But what if it was clearly not a Rolex though it did indeed say Rolex on the face? What if parts of it were plastic; an absurdly obvious indication the watch was a fake? Like me, you would probably think, “What a rip-off! What kind of a moron would pay two thousand bucks for what is so obviously a worthless imitation?”
Well, a guy I know did show me such a watch. He was a nine year old boy. He did not know the qualities that make a Rolex valuable. He had simply heard Rolex watches are classy and he was very impressed with the one on display so he decided to buy it. Poor little guy. I couldn’t bring myself to shatter his delusional perception of his prized new watch. You might then ask where a nine year old boy would even come up with such a large sum of money, which I did. He then told me he didn’t mean dollars. The tickets that come out of some of the games he plays at the play station are called bucks and he had accumulated two thousand of them to trade in for the watch. I then thought, “Phew! At least the money was not real either.”
However, a few days later, the boy returned to me in tears. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me he could not find his watch. He had taken it off earlier when he went outside to play football with his friends because he did not want to risk breaking it. When he later went to put it back on, it was not where he thought he had left it. I told him not to worry about it, that he could just go earn more tickets and get another one at the play station. He then coldly responded he had been collecting game bucks for the past two years so he could get the watch. Ouch! I felt terrible for my indifference and apologized to him.
I was later relieved to find out his mom had simply put the watch away when she found it lying on the kitchen counter so it would not get lost. He was elated to share the news with me and went about showing off his Rolex again to everyone he saw, now including the story of how he thought he lost it.
The following Sunday, I saw the boy again at church. A missionary who served a very poor community spoke about the needs of the people and the work of the gospel in helping them. The congregation had been asked to donate used items that could be sold in garage sale fashion in order to raise money for the mission. To conclude the service, the funds from the garage sale were proudly presented to the missionary along with a token offering from the church.
As everyone gathered around the missionary to wish him well, I saw the boy approach the man, take off his watch and hand it to him. Confused, the missionary asked, “What’s this?” The boy said, “I noticed you did not have a watch, so I’d like to give you mine.” The people around him were amused by the child’s offering but scoffed at the meagerness of his contribution, at least until the missionary responded to the gift. With reverence, the missionary put the watch on his wrist. He admired it for a moment as tears streamed down his face. He then warmly embraced the boy, telling him what a special gift it was and how he would cherish it always. After standing to his feet, he looked into the dumbfounded faces of those standing around him and said, “This boy has given me the most valuable gift I have ever received. He just gave me a Rolex.” I wept too as I understood the value of what the boy had just given though the watch was clearly worthless to everyone else. Like the boy, I guess the missionary didn’t know what made a Rolex special either…or perhaps he simply had an eye for what is really valuable… *
*This is a parable based on Scripture and real events
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
This Ain’t Where You From
Since I have been in East Lake, I have really struggled with an identity crisis. It reached a climax last week when I met a man while out walking in search of a place that provides free Wi-Fi. Since my van is out of gas and has a flat tire, I have been reduced to walking, a reduction I now know to be a blessing given how familiar I have become with the local area and people as a result.
On my first walk, I came to a group of people that looked like fellow transients congregating outside The Episcopal Church in Woodlawn. So, seeing an ideal opportunity to network with a local ministry, I decided to stop and introduce myself. One of them standing just outside the door said he worked there as a part of their food ministry. He told me in about an hour they would be serving ham, black-eyed peas and collard greens and I was welcome to stay and eat. Excited by the chance for such a fine meal, I gratefully accepted his invitation.
After conversing for a while with him and a few others in the group, I told him about my original quest to find Wi-Fi. He pointed across the street to a sign outside what he said was the library that read “Free Wi-Fi,” a sign I am certain to have missed had I not stopped to talk since I did not know Woodlawn even had a library. I thanked him for the clue I so did not have then began looking both ways to find a crosswalk. They said “No! Across the street!” I said, “I know! I’m looking for a crosswalk!” They said “Just cross the street!” Concerned I might misrepresent my faith by breaking the law I asked, “Isn’t that jaywalking?” Though stunned for a moment, one of them chuckled as he responded, “This ain’t where you from!” Offended by his stereotype, I told him I grew up not far from here. I started to explain I am not as alien as he assumes me to be as I thought about how similar he and I really are. He interrupted before I could, reiterating with a smile, “No! You don’t understand! This ain’t where you from!” I never cease to be amazed by how God so often speaks with such characteristic profundity through such seemingly unintentional, unlikely and unrehearsed ways. As he said it again, I was stunned into silence as I heard God say, “This ain’t where you from!”
I am fascinated by the complexity of the perceptions of identity and purpose developed in response to the God given ability to ask, “Who am I?” Generally, the question is answered by a personal name and a list of categorized attributes that more explain “who we are.” The majorities of humanity huddle in groups of likeness that establish singular identities among their many members, identities otherwise known as cultures. Many cultural categories are global such as economic class, gender, common interests, vocations and religions. For example, as a wealthy man, it may be assumed I like to buy nice things and I am attracted to beautiful women. If I am concerned about my physique, it may be assumed I am careful about what I eat and I exercise. If I am a master carpenter, it may be assumed I am skilled in woodwork. If I am a Christian, it may be assumed I am a follower of Jesus Christ.
Other categories are characterized by geography and history such as language, race, food, nationality and traditions. For example, as an American, it may be assumed I speak English and I celebrate our country’s independence day on the 4th of July. Further, having been born and raised in Alabama, it may be assumed I eat Bar-B-Q on the 4th of July and I recommend Bar-B-Q by saying, “Ya’ll should try it.” All of these are legitimate cultural assumptions to me because they are true of the majority of individuals in each category. These assumptions are also called stereotypes.
Stereotypes are efficient but, as I’m sure you have already guessed, they are not always reliable since an individual may be representative of the minority. Minorities are an exception to the majority rule that makes one distinct from the majority though they are still part of the majority. For example, I may be wealthy but live poor, a man who prefers men, vain but eat junk food, a master carpenter who is not skilled, a Christian who does not follow Christ, an American who speaks Spanish, or a southerner who is a vegan and says “you all should try tofu.” People are not necessarily who they seem to be or even who they once claimed to be, much less who they should be.
As such, I understand the accurate stereotypes that make me foreign to the men who gave me directions. I’m white. I grew up in a middle class family that was very involved in church. Neither my family nor my church would have welcomed them as family. I am well educated, well read, and well traveled as a result of choosing options readily available to my culture but unimaginable to his. They do not see people from my culture here very often and the ones they have seen were only passing through, keeping their distance in fear and revulsion as they made their way out. I used to be one of them, which is why I felt at first so compelled to confess I’m not one of them now. Now, to my people, I am one of these people. I am broken, needy, transient, unemployed, untidy, undignified, unrespectable and unacceptable. I am a traitor to their values and shunned as an outcaste. Many of my family and friends are ashamed of me. Nevertheless, when I was told “this ain’t where you from,” I was reminded I’m not one of these either. I am a “one of them” to both and a “one of us” to neither; quite the incongruity, serving as quite the reminder of where I am really from.
Incongruities are a reminder to me because they are common to my people. My people must die so we may live, fall so we may be lifted up, lose to gain, be weak to be made strong, be a doormat to be dignified, be poor to become rich, be the least to be the greatest, and be a slave to be free. What God does through us is not us. We love our enemy, serve selflessly, forgive repeatedly, and invest in eternity. Our real is unreal. The pretend wise are made fools and pretend fools are made wise. Pretend treasures are made worthless and the worthless are made invaluable. We are unnatural because we are made supernatural. We rejoice when we suffer, clap for joy while we weep with sorrow, claim victory in defeat, believe the unbelievable, and love the unlovable. We are unified though diversified sharing community with the Trinity in whom the unknowable is made knowable, the mundane is made mystical, the fantastical is made trivial, and the unimaginable becomes manageable. We live partly in infinity until the day we enter it fully. Such is the incongruity of this present reality and the hope of going home eternally.
Homesickness is a blessing when the home we miss is heaven. It reminds me not to even try to get comfortable here because I won’t be here long enough and the people of this world are not my people; not yet anyway. Though I should not try to fit in I should not try to stay out either. Instead of trying to identify with them, I am to be Christ so they can decide to identify with him. “Who I am” is really a “who we are,” for the body of Christ is an every growing community of Christ followers who are possessed by his Spirit. We are made one and share one purpose; we are to be the body of Christ and draw all men to him by going to them. The body of Christ is the only stereotype that applies to us because there is no other stereotype that can rightly describe us. We do not share fellowship with the world; we invite those in the world to come share fellowship with us. That does not mean we should, as many have, isolate ourselves by building bigger buildings as we include others in our fellowship. We are the Church who carry the fellowship to them. Even if I am the only believer within a hundred miles, I worship in community with the Trinity. I carry the light of the gospel into dark places, looking for those he has given eyes to see and are willing to leave the shadows and walk in the light. When I find one, I share community with him, teaching him our Way and including him as a new citizen and fellow heir of our kingdom. When he is ready, I will send him out as we were sent out, as a foreigner carrying the light of the gospel into dark places to draw all people to the One community who lives in him. My work is not done until all people know and Christ comes to take me home. When I go home, I want my Father to be proud of me for completing the work he sent me here to do, to be able to see his smiling face and hear the words, “Well done!” My hope in that day drives me on. Therefore, when I again hear “This ain’t where you from,” my heart will leap with excitement at the reminder I am on my way.
On my first walk, I came to a group of people that looked like fellow transients congregating outside The Episcopal Church in Woodlawn. So, seeing an ideal opportunity to network with a local ministry, I decided to stop and introduce myself. One of them standing just outside the door said he worked there as a part of their food ministry. He told me in about an hour they would be serving ham, black-eyed peas and collard greens and I was welcome to stay and eat. Excited by the chance for such a fine meal, I gratefully accepted his invitation.
After conversing for a while with him and a few others in the group, I told him about my original quest to find Wi-Fi. He pointed across the street to a sign outside what he said was the library that read “Free Wi-Fi,” a sign I am certain to have missed had I not stopped to talk since I did not know Woodlawn even had a library. I thanked him for the clue I so did not have then began looking both ways to find a crosswalk. They said “No! Across the street!” I said, “I know! I’m looking for a crosswalk!” They said “Just cross the street!” Concerned I might misrepresent my faith by breaking the law I asked, “Isn’t that jaywalking?” Though stunned for a moment, one of them chuckled as he responded, “This ain’t where you from!” Offended by his stereotype, I told him I grew up not far from here. I started to explain I am not as alien as he assumes me to be as I thought about how similar he and I really are. He interrupted before I could, reiterating with a smile, “No! You don’t understand! This ain’t where you from!” I never cease to be amazed by how God so often speaks with such characteristic profundity through such seemingly unintentional, unlikely and unrehearsed ways. As he said it again, I was stunned into silence as I heard God say, “This ain’t where you from!”
I am fascinated by the complexity of the perceptions of identity and purpose developed in response to the God given ability to ask, “Who am I?” Generally, the question is answered by a personal name and a list of categorized attributes that more explain “who we are.” The majorities of humanity huddle in groups of likeness that establish singular identities among their many members, identities otherwise known as cultures. Many cultural categories are global such as economic class, gender, common interests, vocations and religions. For example, as a wealthy man, it may be assumed I like to buy nice things and I am attracted to beautiful women. If I am concerned about my physique, it may be assumed I am careful about what I eat and I exercise. If I am a master carpenter, it may be assumed I am skilled in woodwork. If I am a Christian, it may be assumed I am a follower of Jesus Christ.
Other categories are characterized by geography and history such as language, race, food, nationality and traditions. For example, as an American, it may be assumed I speak English and I celebrate our country’s independence day on the 4th of July. Further, having been born and raised in Alabama, it may be assumed I eat Bar-B-Q on the 4th of July and I recommend Bar-B-Q by saying, “Ya’ll should try it.” All of these are legitimate cultural assumptions to me because they are true of the majority of individuals in each category. These assumptions are also called stereotypes.
Stereotypes are efficient but, as I’m sure you have already guessed, they are not always reliable since an individual may be representative of the minority. Minorities are an exception to the majority rule that makes one distinct from the majority though they are still part of the majority. For example, I may be wealthy but live poor, a man who prefers men, vain but eat junk food, a master carpenter who is not skilled, a Christian who does not follow Christ, an American who speaks Spanish, or a southerner who is a vegan and says “you all should try tofu.” People are not necessarily who they seem to be or even who they once claimed to be, much less who they should be.
As such, I understand the accurate stereotypes that make me foreign to the men who gave me directions. I’m white. I grew up in a middle class family that was very involved in church. Neither my family nor my church would have welcomed them as family. I am well educated, well read, and well traveled as a result of choosing options readily available to my culture but unimaginable to his. They do not see people from my culture here very often and the ones they have seen were only passing through, keeping their distance in fear and revulsion as they made their way out. I used to be one of them, which is why I felt at first so compelled to confess I’m not one of them now. Now, to my people, I am one of these people. I am broken, needy, transient, unemployed, untidy, undignified, unrespectable and unacceptable. I am a traitor to their values and shunned as an outcaste. Many of my family and friends are ashamed of me. Nevertheless, when I was told “this ain’t where you from,” I was reminded I’m not one of these either. I am a “one of them” to both and a “one of us” to neither; quite the incongruity, serving as quite the reminder of where I am really from.
Incongruities are a reminder to me because they are common to my people. My people must die so we may live, fall so we may be lifted up, lose to gain, be weak to be made strong, be a doormat to be dignified, be poor to become rich, be the least to be the greatest, and be a slave to be free. What God does through us is not us. We love our enemy, serve selflessly, forgive repeatedly, and invest in eternity. Our real is unreal. The pretend wise are made fools and pretend fools are made wise. Pretend treasures are made worthless and the worthless are made invaluable. We are unnatural because we are made supernatural. We rejoice when we suffer, clap for joy while we weep with sorrow, claim victory in defeat, believe the unbelievable, and love the unlovable. We are unified though diversified sharing community with the Trinity in whom the unknowable is made knowable, the mundane is made mystical, the fantastical is made trivial, and the unimaginable becomes manageable. We live partly in infinity until the day we enter it fully. Such is the incongruity of this present reality and the hope of going home eternally.
Homesickness is a blessing when the home we miss is heaven. It reminds me not to even try to get comfortable here because I won’t be here long enough and the people of this world are not my people; not yet anyway. Though I should not try to fit in I should not try to stay out either. Instead of trying to identify with them, I am to be Christ so they can decide to identify with him. “Who I am” is really a “who we are,” for the body of Christ is an every growing community of Christ followers who are possessed by his Spirit. We are made one and share one purpose; we are to be the body of Christ and draw all men to him by going to them. The body of Christ is the only stereotype that applies to us because there is no other stereotype that can rightly describe us. We do not share fellowship with the world; we invite those in the world to come share fellowship with us. That does not mean we should, as many have, isolate ourselves by building bigger buildings as we include others in our fellowship. We are the Church who carry the fellowship to them. Even if I am the only believer within a hundred miles, I worship in community with the Trinity. I carry the light of the gospel into dark places, looking for those he has given eyes to see and are willing to leave the shadows and walk in the light. When I find one, I share community with him, teaching him our Way and including him as a new citizen and fellow heir of our kingdom. When he is ready, I will send him out as we were sent out, as a foreigner carrying the light of the gospel into dark places to draw all people to the One community who lives in him. My work is not done until all people know and Christ comes to take me home. When I go home, I want my Father to be proud of me for completing the work he sent me here to do, to be able to see his smiling face and hear the words, “Well done!” My hope in that day drives me on. Therefore, when I again hear “This ain’t where you from,” my heart will leap with excitement at the reminder I am on my way.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
“The Deeper Life” by A. W. Tozer
…The deeper life must be understood to mean a life in the Spirit far in advance of the average and nearer to the New Testament norm. I do not know that the term is the best that could be chosen, but for want of a better one we shall continue to employ it. There are many scriptural phrases that embody the meaning we are attempting to convey, but these have been interpreted downward and equated with the spiritual mediocrity now current. The consequence is that when they are used by the average Bible teacher today, they do not mean what they meant when they were first used by the inspired writers. This is the penalty we pay for making the Word of God conform to our experience instead of bringing our experience up to the Word of God…
The deeper life has also been called the “victorious life,” but I do not like that term. It appears to me that it focuses attention exclusively upon one feature of the Christian life, that of personal victory over sin, when actually this is just one aspect of the deeper life – an important one, to be sure, but only one. That life in the Spirit that is denoted by the term “deeper life” is far wider and richer than mere victory over sin, however vital that victory may be. It also includes the thought of the indwelling of Christ, acute God-consciousness, rapturous worship, separation from the world, the joyous surrender of everything to God, internal union with the Trinity, the practice of the presence of God, the communion of saints and prayer without ceasing.
To enter such a life, seekers must be ready to accept without question the New Testament as the one final authority on spiritual matters. They must be willing to make Christ the one supreme Lord and ruler in their lives. They must surrender their whole being to the destructive power of the cross, to die, not only to their sins but to their righteousness as well as to everything in which they formerly prided themselves.
If this should seem like a heavy sacrifice for anyone to make, let it be remembered that Christ is Lord and can make any demands upon us that He chooses, even to the point of requiring that we deny ourselves and bear the cross daily. The mighty anointing of the Holy Spirit that follows will restore to the soul infinitely more than has been taken away. It is a hard way, but a glorious one. Those who have known the sweetness of it will never complain about what they have lost. They will be too well pleased with what they have gained. A. W. Tozer, The Radical Cross, “The Deeper Life,” pp. 15-16.
The deeper life has also been called the “victorious life,” but I do not like that term. It appears to me that it focuses attention exclusively upon one feature of the Christian life, that of personal victory over sin, when actually this is just one aspect of the deeper life – an important one, to be sure, but only one. That life in the Spirit that is denoted by the term “deeper life” is far wider and richer than mere victory over sin, however vital that victory may be. It also includes the thought of the indwelling of Christ, acute God-consciousness, rapturous worship, separation from the world, the joyous surrender of everything to God, internal union with the Trinity, the practice of the presence of God, the communion of saints and prayer without ceasing.
To enter such a life, seekers must be ready to accept without question the New Testament as the one final authority on spiritual matters. They must be willing to make Christ the one supreme Lord and ruler in their lives. They must surrender their whole being to the destructive power of the cross, to die, not only to their sins but to their righteousness as well as to everything in which they formerly prided themselves.
If this should seem like a heavy sacrifice for anyone to make, let it be remembered that Christ is Lord and can make any demands upon us that He chooses, even to the point of requiring that we deny ourselves and bear the cross daily. The mighty anointing of the Holy Spirit that follows will restore to the soul infinitely more than has been taken away. It is a hard way, but a glorious one. Those who have known the sweetness of it will never complain about what they have lost. They will be too well pleased with what they have gained. A. W. Tozer, The Radical Cross, “The Deeper Life,” pp. 15-16.
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