When I was younger (and Catholic), I used to give up something every Lent. I was partly inspired to do so by my many Muslim friends who fasted during Ramzan, and partly by some little religious twinge I experienced as that time of year approached. (Incidentally, I always found the period between Ash Wednesday and Palm Sunday particularly depressing, although I'm certain it wasn't in contemplation of Christ's tribulations.)
The one thing I remember resolving to give up year after year (with varying degrees of success) was sweets. I soon realized (although I suspect I knew deep down all along) that my reason for this was anything but spiritual. True, it was a huge sacrifice, probably harder than anything else I could have given up. I've an inordinately sweet tooth, which resulted (and still does) in a constant (and largely unsuccessful) battle with my weighing scale. So when I decided to give up sweets during Lent, it had very little to do with Christ and everything to do with my midsection.
As I came to realize this, I took the easy way out. I simply stopped giving up anything. And since then, even when I've felt the urge to try again (maybe not something as obviously self-serving as sweets but perhaps a little more spiritual), I always decided against it, with the excuse that I would end up making it about myself or giving up altogether. I've also told myself that giving stuff up for Lent is largely a Catholic thing -- so I don't need to do it anymore.*
So I haven't given up anything for Lent in ages. But this year, I feel a bit guilty. I've finally acknowledged that I've been lazy about dealing with the real problem. If I end up making my Lenten sacrifices about myself, the right thing to do would be to find a way to make it glorify God. The problem lies with me, not with the sacrifices.
I've finally realized this three-quarters of the way through Lent. But isn't Lent just a symbolic period in preparation for Easter? There's no reason why I can't start now, is there? Of course there isn't.
Now that that's settled, the question is this: which of my many vices will I give up?
*I know that in some traditions, penance during Lent is supposed to make up for our sins, and that, as I've been put right with God through Christ, I don't need sacrifices to justify me in God's sight. But human hearts and minds don't submit willingly to God (mine most certainly don't), and I do believe that sacrifices focused on God can help us bring our desires more in line with His.
Showing posts with label Christian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christian. Show all posts
Friday, March 07, 2008
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Flying off!!
Today, I fly off to Bangkok!! And then, on Christmas Eve, I head "home" to Colombo, just barely making it before Christmas. . . and probably starting off Christmas Day in a taxi on the way to my parents' place from the airport, if not in the airport itself! This year has certainly been all about new experiences!!
I won't get to blog or read other blogs until after Christmas, so merry Christmas all!! Hope the joy of Christ's birth remains with you throughout the new year!
"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this." Is 9:6-7 (NIV)
I won't get to blog or read other blogs until after Christmas, so merry Christmas all!! Hope the joy of Christ's birth remains with you throughout the new year!
"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this." Is 9:6-7 (NIV)
Sunday, December 02, 2007
The secret signature of my soul
Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of -- something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop, or the clap clap of water against the boat's side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it -- tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest -- if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself -- you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt, you would say, "Here at last is the thing I was made for." We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.
Have you experienced this? This sense that you were made for something more, a deeper longing for something greater that even you can't define? Does it feel like what C.S. Lewis describes. . .something just beyond your reach, "promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away as they caught your ear?"
Does it always remain beyond our reach? Or do we choose -- because we are too afraid, or too busy, or too comfortable with our lives as they are -- to not reach out and grasp it?
And if so, is this lack what makes us exist instead of LIVE, settle for functionality instead striving for PASSION and practice religion instead of pursuing a RELATIONSHIP with our Creator.
Is it a fruitless endeavor, at least in this life? Will we go to our deathbeds still longing for something we've never been able to reach? How do we find the "echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself?" And what if we lose the desire altogether?
--The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis
Have you experienced this? This sense that you were made for something more, a deeper longing for something greater that even you can't define? Does it feel like what C.S. Lewis describes. . .something just beyond your reach, "promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away as they caught your ear?"
Does it always remain beyond our reach? Or do we choose -- because we are too afraid, or too busy, or too comfortable with our lives as they are -- to not reach out and grasp it?
And if so, is this lack what makes us exist instead of LIVE, settle for functionality instead striving for PASSION and practice religion instead of pursuing a RELATIONSHIP with our Creator.
Is it a fruitless endeavor, at least in this life? Will we go to our deathbeds still longing for something we've never been able to reach? How do we find the "echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself?" And what if we lose the desire altogether?
Sunday, November 18, 2007
A tough decision
A recent chat I had with a friend about a career decision he was facing set me thinking. If I had the opportunity to work on behalf of someone who everybody knows has caused a great deal of pain and suffering, but has not yet been tried, and therefore not convicted, would I take that position?
Arguments in favor: everyone is innocent until proven guilty; even the most heinous of criminals is entitled to being treated fairly; and, careerwise, it would be the opportunity of a lifetime.
Arguments against: well, everything else. . . that, despite the fact that he has not been convicted, his crimes are well known and documented. Could I, well aware of the atrocities this person has committed, willingly ally myself with him?
As we struggled through the pros and cons of the situation, I remembered my previous post about the movie Dead Man Walking, how Sr. Helen Prejean remained firmly on the side of a convicted killer, despite everyone around her condemning her for her decision. And I thought of Jesus and the company he kept -- people who had not yet been tried or convicted, but about whose sinfulness nobody had any illusions.
But I still wasn't convinced. This person's crimes are on a much larger scale than your average criminal. And I wasn't entirely sure that my friend really believed his arguments about fairness. Intellectually, yes. In his heart, not really. What also concerned me was whether he could, if he came across the people whose lives had been ruined by this person, justify his decision to them and to himself with a clear conscience.
I told him to pray about it. His immediate response was "Ugh. Praying -- the answer is no." My response: if that's the case, I know what I would do.
But when I thought about it afterwards, I realized that I was pretty sure that my friend had not really prayed about it, but had simply assumed what the answer would have been if he had. But I'm not entirely convinced that would be the answer.
After pondering this for a few days, I'm still not sure what I would do if I was in his shoes. But after thinking about it, I do have this to say to him: go back and really pray about it. You might be surprised!
Arguments in favor: everyone is innocent until proven guilty; even the most heinous of criminals is entitled to being treated fairly; and, careerwise, it would be the opportunity of a lifetime.
Arguments against: well, everything else. . . that, despite the fact that he has not been convicted, his crimes are well known and documented. Could I, well aware of the atrocities this person has committed, willingly ally myself with him?
As we struggled through the pros and cons of the situation, I remembered my previous post about the movie Dead Man Walking, how Sr. Helen Prejean remained firmly on the side of a convicted killer, despite everyone around her condemning her for her decision. And I thought of Jesus and the company he kept -- people who had not yet been tried or convicted, but about whose sinfulness nobody had any illusions.
But I still wasn't convinced. This person's crimes are on a much larger scale than your average criminal. And I wasn't entirely sure that my friend really believed his arguments about fairness. Intellectually, yes. In his heart, not really. What also concerned me was whether he could, if he came across the people whose lives had been ruined by this person, justify his decision to them and to himself with a clear conscience.
I told him to pray about it. His immediate response was "Ugh. Praying -- the answer is no." My response: if that's the case, I know what I would do.
But when I thought about it afterwards, I realized that I was pretty sure that my friend had not really prayed about it, but had simply assumed what the answer would have been if he had. But I'm not entirely convinced that would be the answer.
After pondering this for a few days, I'm still not sure what I would do if I was in his shoes. But after thinking about it, I do have this to say to him: go back and really pray about it. You might be surprised!
Monday, July 09, 2007
Grace. . .
I watched Dead Man Walking today. Not intentionally. I was flipping through channels, trying to find something that would entertain me for half an hour before I got down to some serious Japanese studying. I stopped when I realized what the movie was, and, although I told myself I wasn't in the mood for something so serious, I couldn't change the channel.
As the movie progressed, I kept asking myself what I would have done if I had been in Sr. Helen Prejean's place. . . would I have stood by the wholly unlikeable, somewhat sleazy, unrepentant Matthew Poncelet who was accused of (and denied until the end) raping one and brutally murdering two teenagers, or would I have turned my back on him? I knew all too well what the answer would have been. Even if something in the man had moved me to stand by him when all others had turned away, it wouldn't have lived for long past the hurt and accusation in the eyes of the teens' parents when they realized a woman of God was taking the side of their children's murderer. I would have changed sides pretty quickly -- and no doubt I would have seemed right to do so.
But I would also have lost the opportunity to help save at least one soul. Because at the end of it all, it was Sr. Helen's persistence in showing love to a convicted murderer, despite all other opposition, including his admission of guilt, that brought both him and his victims' families to at least some understanding of grace -- him to tearfully acknowledge his guilt and need for forgiveness, and them to realize how much courage it takes to extend, if reluctantly and bitterly, that forgiveness.
At Poncelet's funeral, one of the teenagers' fathers approaches Sr. Helen and tells her wistfully, "I wish I had your faith."
"No," she responds. "It's not faith. I wish it were that easy. It's work."
And so it is. Faith motivates us to do the hard and unpleasant work needed to give it meaning, to make others look at us and see something different, something that they want others to see in themselves. Fraternising with prostitutes and tax collectors didn't improve Jesus' reputation or make his social life any easier. But he knew that they, despite their hard exteriors, were the ones that needed someone to reach out to them, to care for them, the most.
And so it is today. It is the office gossip, the school reject, the town grouch, those who seem to deserve the least, who need the most. I've realized that, these days, my idea of extending grace to someone I don't particularly like is to avoid them (after all, if I stay away, I avoid confrontation and keep from making our relationship any worse. . . that's grace of a sort, right?) But not doing harm isn't equivalent to doing good. Not by a long shot. Reaching out and taking a stand for those who seem undeserving of and ungrateful for our love is hard, thankless, heartbreaking work. But those who persevere will be rewarded in the end. . . and the reward may take on unexpected shapes and sizes.
As the movie progressed, I kept asking myself what I would have done if I had been in Sr. Helen Prejean's place. . . would I have stood by the wholly unlikeable, somewhat sleazy, unrepentant Matthew Poncelet who was accused of (and denied until the end) raping one and brutally murdering two teenagers, or would I have turned my back on him? I knew all too well what the answer would have been. Even if something in the man had moved me to stand by him when all others had turned away, it wouldn't have lived for long past the hurt and accusation in the eyes of the teens' parents when they realized a woman of God was taking the side of their children's murderer. I would have changed sides pretty quickly -- and no doubt I would have seemed right to do so.
But I would also have lost the opportunity to help save at least one soul. Because at the end of it all, it was Sr. Helen's persistence in showing love to a convicted murderer, despite all other opposition, including his admission of guilt, that brought both him and his victims' families to at least some understanding of grace -- him to tearfully acknowledge his guilt and need for forgiveness, and them to realize how much courage it takes to extend, if reluctantly and bitterly, that forgiveness.
At Poncelet's funeral, one of the teenagers' fathers approaches Sr. Helen and tells her wistfully, "I wish I had your faith."
"No," she responds. "It's not faith. I wish it were that easy. It's work."
And so it is. Faith motivates us to do the hard and unpleasant work needed to give it meaning, to make others look at us and see something different, something that they want others to see in themselves. Fraternising with prostitutes and tax collectors didn't improve Jesus' reputation or make his social life any easier. But he knew that they, despite their hard exteriors, were the ones that needed someone to reach out to them, to care for them, the most.
And so it is today. It is the office gossip, the school reject, the town grouch, those who seem to deserve the least, who need the most. I've realized that, these days, my idea of extending grace to someone I don't particularly like is to avoid them (after all, if I stay away, I avoid confrontation and keep from making our relationship any worse. . . that's grace of a sort, right?) But not doing harm isn't equivalent to doing good. Not by a long shot. Reaching out and taking a stand for those who seem undeserving of and ungrateful for our love is hard, thankless, heartbreaking work. But those who persevere will be rewarded in the end. . . and the reward may take on unexpected shapes and sizes.
Monday, March 05, 2007
For a drop of water to drink
In August 2004, a young New Yorker was living it large in the Big Apple, as a promoter of top nightclubs and fashion events. But in the midst of his whirlwind of a life, he discovered a feeling of emptiness, a desperate yearning for something more. So Scott Harrison, who had given up on God to enjoy what the world had to offer, decided to make a drastic change, to see what the opposite of his life would look like. He applied for a position aboard the Mercy Ships, a humanitarian organization that operates hospital ships to some of the world's poorest countries. He was (reluctantly) accepted, and set sail for West Africa in the position of the ship's photojournalist.
The transition from his spacious Manhattan loft apartment to the ship's modest quarters was shocking. But when Harrison reached his destination, he found that even the ship was palatial compared with the conditions the people whose lives he was to photograph lived in.
Harrison began documenting what he saw--people who lived in abject material poverty but were infinitely wealthier than he had ever been in faith, heart and spirit. He came across several people with all kinds of unimaginable tumors--benign ones, but of such horrifying sizes and shapes that it was incredible that their fragile human bodies could even support the impossible-looking growths. And even more surprising, these people possessed a quiet peace and simple joy that he had never encountered amidst the abundance and opulence of New York.
Most of the tumors were caused by the dirty, bacteria-infested water that people in these areas had no choice but to drink. Harrison has posted photos and descriptions of his experiences during his travels on Mercy Global (the images on this web site are graphic and often disturbing). He has also created Charity:Water to raise money to fund wells that will provide clean, safe drinking water to these people.
Unfortunately, too many Christians live in complacency, believing that saying "Lord, Lord" is enough to get us into God's kingdom. Or we dismiss the sufferings of people in these countries as being too distant, blame them for their own poverty, or believe we have little time or money to spare for them. Looking at these pictures shows us not just how blessed we are, but also how much is expected of us in caring for those less fortunate than us, physically, spiritually and emotionally.
My church fellowship group has decided to fund one well, which costs about $4,000, and provides water to about 250 people. If you don't have a charity or a cause you're passionate about, I strongly encourage you to look into Charity: Water, and think about supporting this venture. Get a group of friends, your extended family, your work colleagues or your church or fellowship group together to sponsor a well, or go it on your own. Just click on Buy Water for more information on how you can help. Or you can join in my group's effort to raise the money for our well--just email me. Or, if you are not in a position to make a monetary contribution, help spread the word about this effort.
We take so much for granted--including the safe drinking water from our taps that we chug without a second thought. Make a difference in the lives of people who can't afford to take even this most basic of necessities for granted.
The transition from his spacious Manhattan loft apartment to the ship's modest quarters was shocking. But when Harrison reached his destination, he found that even the ship was palatial compared with the conditions the people whose lives he was to photograph lived in.
Harrison began documenting what he saw--people who lived in abject material poverty but were infinitely wealthier than he had ever been in faith, heart and spirit. He came across several people with all kinds of unimaginable tumors--benign ones, but of such horrifying sizes and shapes that it was incredible that their fragile human bodies could even support the impossible-looking growths. And even more surprising, these people possessed a quiet peace and simple joy that he had never encountered amidst the abundance and opulence of New York.
Most of the tumors were caused by the dirty, bacteria-infested water that people in these areas had no choice but to drink. Harrison has posted photos and descriptions of his experiences during his travels on Mercy Global (the images on this web site are graphic and often disturbing). He has also created Charity:Water to raise money to fund wells that will provide clean, safe drinking water to these people.
Unfortunately, too many Christians live in complacency, believing that saying "Lord, Lord" is enough to get us into God's kingdom. Or we dismiss the sufferings of people in these countries as being too distant, blame them for their own poverty, or believe we have little time or money to spare for them. Looking at these pictures shows us not just how blessed we are, but also how much is expected of us in caring for those less fortunate than us, physically, spiritually and emotionally.
My church fellowship group has decided to fund one well, which costs about $4,000, and provides water to about 250 people. If you don't have a charity or a cause you're passionate about, I strongly encourage you to look into Charity: Water, and think about supporting this venture. Get a group of friends, your extended family, your work colleagues or your church or fellowship group together to sponsor a well, or go it on your own. Just click on Buy Water for more information on how you can help. Or you can join in my group's effort to raise the money for our well--just email me. Or, if you are not in a position to make a monetary contribution, help spread the word about this effort.
We take so much for granted--including the safe drinking water from our taps that we chug without a second thought. Make a difference in the lives of people who can't afford to take even this most basic of necessities for granted.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Against all odds. . .
Ilajna, caveboy and I went to watch Gordon Chambers perform at the BAM last night. As I listened to him, and to Alice Smith, who opened for him, I started to think about people who are so passionate about something that whatever adverse circumstances they face in their quest for that thing seem insignificant. Watching the performers on stage, I was struck by the thought of how difficult it is to make it as a musician or singer or actor--and that those who aspire to such goals need equal doses of passion and perseverance; that they'd rather endure the struggles and hardships inherent in the pursuit of that goal than live life without it.
There are few people in this world with the tenacity to be that passionate--because it involves much risk and heartbreak, and calls for a great deal of strength and sacrifice. And there are even fewer for whom that tenacity endures, and the difficulties along the way don't overwhelm them.
The object of that passion doesn't necessarily have to be a goal like making it as an artist. As I pondered this, the thought kept coming back to me. . .that I used to be that passionate--about my relationship with Christ. And I also realized that I'm not anymore. I thought back to my mid-teens, when I made the conscious decision for the first time to follow Him--and longed for that passion again; when waking up an hour earlier in the morning to pray (when I was already waking up at the crack of dawn) was a joy, because it meant I could spend that time with Him; when I had the ability to see everyone through Christ-tinted lenses; and when nothing mattered as much as being in His presence day and night.
Today, I am anything but that--I mean, I know in my head that I have a relationship with Christ, but my entire existence is dictated by my circumstances. I am constantly in a bad mood (you should see my subway face--and the number of random strangers who tell me to smile as I walk by!), and I certainly am not "joyful always" (I Thess 5:16); I often ignore that twinge of guilt as I badmouth someone. . . and vow that I won't do it again, already knowing that I will; and praying is more of a chore than a joy. And even when I attempt to get back that passion I once had, I already know that any twist I encounter ahead will derail me.
I drew some inspiration from the passion and commitment I imagined last night's performers must have possessed to come this far. And I'm trying to pick myself up once again, and put myself back on course--with a little help from above.
There are few people in this world with the tenacity to be that passionate--because it involves much risk and heartbreak, and calls for a great deal of strength and sacrifice. And there are even fewer for whom that tenacity endures, and the difficulties along the way don't overwhelm them.
The object of that passion doesn't necessarily have to be a goal like making it as an artist. As I pondered this, the thought kept coming back to me. . .that I used to be that passionate--about my relationship with Christ. And I also realized that I'm not anymore. I thought back to my mid-teens, when I made the conscious decision for the first time to follow Him--and longed for that passion again; when waking up an hour earlier in the morning to pray (when I was already waking up at the crack of dawn) was a joy, because it meant I could spend that time with Him; when I had the ability to see everyone through Christ-tinted lenses; and when nothing mattered as much as being in His presence day and night.
Today, I am anything but that--I mean, I know in my head that I have a relationship with Christ, but my entire existence is dictated by my circumstances. I am constantly in a bad mood (you should see my subway face--and the number of random strangers who tell me to smile as I walk by!), and I certainly am not "joyful always" (I Thess 5:16); I often ignore that twinge of guilt as I badmouth someone. . . and vow that I won't do it again, already knowing that I will; and praying is more of a chore than a joy. And even when I attempt to get back that passion I once had, I already know that any twist I encounter ahead will derail me.
I drew some inspiration from the passion and commitment I imagined last night's performers must have possessed to come this far. And I'm trying to pick myself up once again, and put myself back on course--with a little help from above.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The answer. . .
In my last post, I wondered if happiness comes from giving or holding back. My perspective in that post was a worldy one. And I think I got some consensus that putting yourself out there, and givng and caring, you put yourself at risk of getting hurt. So should you still continue to give and love and care?
I found the answer over the weekend, while reading the book Mocha on the Mount for the Soul Per Suit an online Bible study recommended by LL Barkat. Mocha on the Mount is based on Jesus' teachings in His sermon on the mount, the "Blessed are the. . ." part of the Bible. The author, Sandra Glahn, distinguishes between happiness and blessing. Here is what caught my attention:
"Happiness depends on external circumstances--I got a new job, I got engaged, my relationships are going well. But blessing depends on being rightly related to God despite external circumstances. Horatio Spafford, though his daughters had just drowned in a boating accident, was still able to write, "It is well with my soul." I seriously doubt he felt happy. Yet he knew he was blessed. Lady Juliana of Norwich, writing in the fourteenth century, said, "All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
"Jesus' message would never fly on Madison Avenue. Sigh up for the Christian life. Come, be poor and mourn and die!"
The author goes on to quote Ken Gire in The Reflective Life, who confesses that he wants to be like Christ in His glory, not Christ when he was hated, disgraced and spat on.
And as I thought more about this, I realized that my answer had been within my post, when I wrote that the world rejected and scoffed at Christ 2000 years ago.
Happiness in this world might require less love and caring, and more isolation and selfishness, but blessedness requires the opposite. I'm not saying that only in suffering and rejection do we find blessing--God absolutely rejoices in our happiness. But living by God's heart sometimes means loving and caring and giving even when we don't get much in return.
We still need to guard our hearts, and know when to step away and when there's nothing more we can do in a situation--after all, Christ calls us to love others AS we love ourselves. And, as a Christian, I realized that that is my part, and that is what I need to try my best to do--even if I don't always get the same in return.
I found the answer over the weekend, while reading the book Mocha on the Mount for the Soul Per Suit an online Bible study recommended by LL Barkat. Mocha on the Mount is based on Jesus' teachings in His sermon on the mount, the "Blessed are the. . ." part of the Bible. The author, Sandra Glahn, distinguishes between happiness and blessing. Here is what caught my attention:
"Happiness depends on external circumstances--I got a new job, I got engaged, my relationships are going well. But blessing depends on being rightly related to God despite external circumstances. Horatio Spafford, though his daughters had just drowned in a boating accident, was still able to write, "It is well with my soul." I seriously doubt he felt happy. Yet he knew he was blessed. Lady Juliana of Norwich, writing in the fourteenth century, said, "All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
"Jesus' message would never fly on Madison Avenue. Sigh up for the Christian life. Come, be poor and mourn and die!"
The author goes on to quote Ken Gire in The Reflective Life, who confesses that he wants to be like Christ in His glory, not Christ when he was hated, disgraced and spat on.
And as I thought more about this, I realized that my answer had been within my post, when I wrote that the world rejected and scoffed at Christ 2000 years ago.
Happiness in this world might require less love and caring, and more isolation and selfishness, but blessedness requires the opposite. I'm not saying that only in suffering and rejection do we find blessing--God absolutely rejoices in our happiness. But living by God's heart sometimes means loving and caring and giving even when we don't get much in return.
We still need to guard our hearts, and know when to step away and when there's nothing more we can do in a situation--after all, Christ calls us to love others AS we love ourselves. And, as a Christian, I realized that that is my part, and that is what I need to try my best to do--even if I don't always get the same in return.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Happiness comes from giving. . . or holding back?
Caveboy and I have been talking a lot about happiness lately--perhaps partly the effect of discoveringThe Happiness Project blog. He even wrote a blog entry about it as a guest blogger, but then refused to let me post it. So I decided to write my own, albeit slightly different one.
The idealistic notion of happiness is that the more you give, the more you get. If you give love and kindness and caring, you get it all back, many-fold. In other words, as Luke 6:38 puts it: "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."
This doesn't always hold true in the world we live in today--the more you give, the more you put yourself out there, the more you risk unhappiness--because you leave yourself vulnerable to being hurt, rejected, scoffed at, an open shot for those who are not willing to give as much. And you let your happiness be determined by others. But those who don't give, or choose carefully how much of themselves they do give, tend to be happier. They don't face as much hurt and rejection, because they protect themselves from it. Maybe they are less passionate, their loving a little less intense, but they are generally shielded from the hurt that comes from getting nothing or very little in return.
Take Dr. Izzy Stevens on the show Grey's Anatomy, for instance. She's actually my favourite character, because she gives abundantly but also expects much from those she gives to. But because she loves and cares so much, she also gets hurt the most. "But she was incredibly loved by Denny," Caveboy responded when I brought up the example. "Yes, and she lost him," I told him. "Well, um. . . he died," came the reply. But what was the guarantee? Maybe if Denny had gotten better and left the hospital and gone out into the world, he'd have fallen in love with someone else. And Izzy, for having loved him to the extent she did, would have been left to pick up the pieces.
Caveboy contends that those who are shallow, who hold back, are not really happy. Yes, they give less, so they get less. But they are also satisfied and content with less. Happiness is greater than contentment, Caveboy argued. Contentment beats heartbreak and misery, I shot back.
Ultimately, I don't think I am the pessimist I come across as. But I see, over and over, those who choose to go above and beyond in giving and loving get hurt and broken while those who hold back sail through, for the most part, intact. It happened 2000 years ago with Christ*, and not much has changed today. And in my own life, in every instance in which I've given completely, it's come back to bite me. Impulsive and hard-headed as I am, I have not learned from these experiences--much as I wish I had. I know that I will, in some instances, continue to care blindly, but the more it ends up backfiring, the more I wonder how much it is worth.
*I'm talking about the world's response to Him, not His coming into glory after His earthly death and the implications of that).
The idealistic notion of happiness is that the more you give, the more you get. If you give love and kindness and caring, you get it all back, many-fold. In other words, as Luke 6:38 puts it: "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."
This doesn't always hold true in the world we live in today--the more you give, the more you put yourself out there, the more you risk unhappiness--because you leave yourself vulnerable to being hurt, rejected, scoffed at, an open shot for those who are not willing to give as much. And you let your happiness be determined by others. But those who don't give, or choose carefully how much of themselves they do give, tend to be happier. They don't face as much hurt and rejection, because they protect themselves from it. Maybe they are less passionate, their loving a little less intense, but they are generally shielded from the hurt that comes from getting nothing or very little in return.
Take Dr. Izzy Stevens on the show Grey's Anatomy, for instance. She's actually my favourite character, because she gives abundantly but also expects much from those she gives to. But because she loves and cares so much, she also gets hurt the most. "But she was incredibly loved by Denny," Caveboy responded when I brought up the example. "Yes, and she lost him," I told him. "Well, um. . . he died," came the reply. But what was the guarantee? Maybe if Denny had gotten better and left the hospital and gone out into the world, he'd have fallen in love with someone else. And Izzy, for having loved him to the extent she did, would have been left to pick up the pieces.
Caveboy contends that those who are shallow, who hold back, are not really happy. Yes, they give less, so they get less. But they are also satisfied and content with less. Happiness is greater than contentment, Caveboy argued. Contentment beats heartbreak and misery, I shot back.
Ultimately, I don't think I am the pessimist I come across as. But I see, over and over, those who choose to go above and beyond in giving and loving get hurt and broken while those who hold back sail through, for the most part, intact. It happened 2000 years ago with Christ*, and not much has changed today. And in my own life, in every instance in which I've given completely, it's come back to bite me. Impulsive and hard-headed as I am, I have not learned from these experiences--much as I wish I had. I know that I will, in some instances, continue to care blindly, but the more it ends up backfiring, the more I wonder how much it is worth.
*I'm talking about the world's response to Him, not His coming into glory after His earthly death and the implications of that).
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Forgiveness
At church this Sunday, the worship leader sang this song by Hillsong United. I used to go to Hillsong church in London, so have a soft spot for all things Hillsong. But this song, in particular, struck a chord. I've been irked by my tendency to go on "sinning binges" and trying to find a balance between questioning the nature of my relationship with God, finding excuses for my actions, and wondering if I take my salvation through Christ for granted.
And even as I contemplated this, this song reminded me of God's unfailing love and His grace through Christ, and that, even if we don't, He does indeed forgive "seventy times seven."
All for love, a Father gave
For only love could make a way
All for love, the heavens cried
For love was crucified
Oh, how many times have I broken Your heart
But still You forgive if only I ask
And how many times have You heard me pray
Draw near to me
Everything I need is You
My beginning, my forever
Everything I need is You
Let me sing all for love
I will join the angel song
Ever holy is the Lord
King of glory, King of all
Oh, how many times have I broken Your heart
But still You forgive if only I ask
And how many times have You heard me pray
Draw near to me
Everything I need is You My beginning, my forever
Everything I need is You
All for love a Savior prayed
Abba Father, have Your way
Though they know not what they do
Let the cross draw man to You, to You, to You
And even as I contemplated this, this song reminded me of God's unfailing love and His grace through Christ, and that, even if we don't, He does indeed forgive "seventy times seven."
All for love, a Father gave
For only love could make a way
All for love, the heavens cried
For love was crucified
Oh, how many times have I broken Your heart
But still You forgive if only I ask
And how many times have You heard me pray
Draw near to me
Everything I need is You
My beginning, my forever
Everything I need is You
Let me sing all for love
I will join the angel song
Ever holy is the Lord
King of glory, King of all
Oh, how many times have I broken Your heart
But still You forgive if only I ask
And how many times have You heard me pray
Draw near to me
Everything I need is You My beginning, my forever
Everything I need is You
All for love a Savior prayed
Abba Father, have Your way
Though they know not what they do
Let the cross draw man to You, to You, to You
Friday, October 06, 2006
Confession
For the past few weeks, I've strayed. I took a conscious step off the narrow path towards God, and chose the wide, free road, away from Him. Not that I did anything drastic or acted any differently. But on the inside, something changed. I told Him, "Goodbye God. I don't need you. You go your way, I'll go mine."
I did it because I wanted--demanded--results, changes in my life. And He wasn't giving me any. So one day, I decided I'd had enough. I stormed into my apartment, took down crucifixes, packed up Bibles and dumped them into a box inside my closet. I deleted the part about my being a Christian from my blog profile. I stopped going to church. The elimination was quick and systematic.
And it was easy. Boy, was it easy. In the past few weeks, I've felt no guilt, no worry that I was hurting Him, no pang that I would have felt before when I was lazy about talking to Him, reading His word, or doing anything I knew was against His will. I realized that the further I got from Him, the easier it became to ignore Him, and to do my own thing.
But I also felt a sense of emptiness. Even during my self-imposed isolation, I caught myself a couple of times, telling Him: "Jesus, I miss you." But I was captivated with the ease of life without God, without accountability to Him, without the need or desire to do Someone else's will.
Until the emptiness overcame me this week -- just like that. Nothing happened. It just occurred to me that, no matter what, my life wasn't much without Him. So, I'm slowly retracing my steps. It's tough going, back uphill to the narrow road. Knowing that I won't be able to brush off straying as easily as I have over the past few weeks. But I also know that, while I was on my own on the wide and easy road, Someone will go with me on the narrow one.
I prayed last night for the first time in weeks. It wasn't terribly heartfelt or eloquent. I was sitting on the bus home, looking out the window, and quietly said I was sorry and asked him to come back to me. It wasn't a desperate longing -- yet. That will come. What I felt was the first hazy rays of what I know will become a much stronger need.
So the "Christian" part of my profile is back up, and the crucifixes and Bibles come out tonight. Pray for me.
I did it because I wanted--demanded--results, changes in my life. And He wasn't giving me any. So one day, I decided I'd had enough. I stormed into my apartment, took down crucifixes, packed up Bibles and dumped them into a box inside my closet. I deleted the part about my being a Christian from my blog profile. I stopped going to church. The elimination was quick and systematic.
And it was easy. Boy, was it easy. In the past few weeks, I've felt no guilt, no worry that I was hurting Him, no pang that I would have felt before when I was lazy about talking to Him, reading His word, or doing anything I knew was against His will. I realized that the further I got from Him, the easier it became to ignore Him, and to do my own thing.
But I also felt a sense of emptiness. Even during my self-imposed isolation, I caught myself a couple of times, telling Him: "Jesus, I miss you." But I was captivated with the ease of life without God, without accountability to Him, without the need or desire to do Someone else's will.
Until the emptiness overcame me this week -- just like that. Nothing happened. It just occurred to me that, no matter what, my life wasn't much without Him. So, I'm slowly retracing my steps. It's tough going, back uphill to the narrow road. Knowing that I won't be able to brush off straying as easily as I have over the past few weeks. But I also know that, while I was on my own on the wide and easy road, Someone will go with me on the narrow one.
I prayed last night for the first time in weeks. It wasn't terribly heartfelt or eloquent. I was sitting on the bus home, looking out the window, and quietly said I was sorry and asked him to come back to me. It wasn't a desperate longing -- yet. That will come. What I felt was the first hazy rays of what I know will become a much stronger need.
So the "Christian" part of my profile is back up, and the crucifixes and Bibles come out tonight. Pray for me.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Seek and ye shall find? Maybe not. . .
Over the past few days, one message has been hammering away at me - don't obsessively seek and you will find. First it was in church - yes, the pastor did say DON'T seek, and Jesus did say DO seek, but I'll get to that . . . which I've been mulling over, and today, in an email that was forwarded to me, and in the events of my life over the past couple of weeks.
This is a good message for me - because I am an extremely impatient person. I am not really used to getting my own way all the time, but for some reason, when I have consciously gone after something, I want to see the effects of that action right away and sometimes go to great, even embarassing lengths to find them.
So in church, Pastor Tim told us that we shouldn't seek what we want, but rather, something greater than what we desire. "If you seek joy, you won't get joy. But if you seek God, you will get both God and joy. If you seek blessings, you won't get blessings. But if you seek to be righteous, then you will get both righteousness and blessedness."
In other words, if you seek selfishly, you will not get what you are seeking. But if you are selfless, if you look for something greater, something that transcends your smaller desire, that will ultimately have a much larger impact than the selfish thing you are seeking, you will achieve both.
And I realized that I have spent a lot of time seeking that good job, those (seemingly) perfect people in my life and that ever-ellusive perfect happiness. But, if I focus on serving God, a job that will make a difference (or at least not obsess so much about a job, period), and reaching out to people who need me, those things I am tempted to seek will come by themselves.
So what does this have to do with my impatience and need to have and know what I want NOW, NOW and NOW? Well, this need in me, I think, satisfies a small goal - will I get that internship I want? Or will that person I'm waiting to hear from write? Or will that one great connection I have do something to get me a good job? My impatience stems from my need to stay in control of my life, to have no unknown variables. Instead, if I learn to live with the unknowns, and aim for the things mentioned above, then the other things will fall into place.
Or so I hope anyway. . . because it takes a big person and lots of moral discipline to strive for such noble goals. . .
This is a good message for me - because I am an extremely impatient person. I am not really used to getting my own way all the time, but for some reason, when I have consciously gone after something, I want to see the effects of that action right away and sometimes go to great, even embarassing lengths to find them.
So in church, Pastor Tim told us that we shouldn't seek what we want, but rather, something greater than what we desire. "If you seek joy, you won't get joy. But if you seek God, you will get both God and joy. If you seek blessings, you won't get blessings. But if you seek to be righteous, then you will get both righteousness and blessedness."
In other words, if you seek selfishly, you will not get what you are seeking. But if you are selfless, if you look for something greater, something that transcends your smaller desire, that will ultimately have a much larger impact than the selfish thing you are seeking, you will achieve both.
And I realized that I have spent a lot of time seeking that good job, those (seemingly) perfect people in my life and that ever-ellusive perfect happiness. But, if I focus on serving God, a job that will make a difference (or at least not obsess so much about a job, period), and reaching out to people who need me, those things I am tempted to seek will come by themselves.
So what does this have to do with my impatience and need to have and know what I want NOW, NOW and NOW? Well, this need in me, I think, satisfies a small goal - will I get that internship I want? Or will that person I'm waiting to hear from write? Or will that one great connection I have do something to get me a good job? My impatience stems from my need to stay in control of my life, to have no unknown variables. Instead, if I learn to live with the unknowns, and aim for the things mentioned above, then the other things will fall into place.
Or so I hope anyway. . . because it takes a big person and lots of moral discipline to strive for such noble goals. . .
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
A health and wealth gospel
I had an interesting conversation with the pastor of an Evangelical Covenant Church the other day, and one thing in particular that he said set me thinking. He said that his main point of contention with Evangelical churches is that they preach a "health and wealth" gospel, i.e. that well-being on earth is a blessing from God, which assumes that the poor are poor because they are out of favour with God. While my first reaction to that was "Oh, come on. That's not true," when I thought about it, I realised that a part of what he said might be true. (I don't live in a vacuum, so I realise that most people, at least in the West, equate this belief with evangelicals,[I think mistakenly] but what surprised me was that this was coming from a clergyman, a self-proclaimed evangelical himself, but one with a different world view).
The focus of most evangelicals is on what comes after this life. They see God as a God who bestows favour on those whom He loves, so they are not afraid to ask Him for health and wealth (with the caveat that they will not be consumed by their material possessions, but still give Him first place). I don't see this as necessarily translating into a belief that the poor have less of God's favour than the rich.
But, because of their focus on the world after this one, they see their mission here primarily as meeting people's spiritual needs, rather than physical ones. This is what people who are more inclined towards social justice have a problem with, as they see evangelicals seriously lacking in efforts to meet the needs of the poor and reaching out to those less fortunate.
As a Christian, I believe that my primary duty is to share Christ with those around me. But, having grown up in a developing country, I am also aware that, when people are working 16 hours a day or more for a pittance, sharing a tiny one-room hut with their wife, eight kids, parents and a brother or sister, they are not in a position to listen and accept that the most important thing they need to do is turn to Christ. Therefore, I am also aware that there are different ways to share Christ with others. For some, talking is the way. For others, reaching out in the name of Christ to fulfill their needs, and practically showing them His love, is the answer. This is even in the Bible: 1 John 3:17 says, "If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?"
Those who approach people living in such abject poverty with nothing but the Gospel, powerful as it is, will only succeed in alientating them. To borrow from Maslow's hierarchy of needs, people cannot move to the psychological, emotional and spiritual fulfillment, unless their basic needs are met. People cannot be made to think about their spiritual well-being if their mere physical existence is a fight from one day to the next. There are people who turn to God because they have no other hope, and their live on earth is so bad that all they have to look forward to is their life after this one. But there are not very many of these people, and the way to reach most others who are in the depths of poverty is to help get them out of it first.
I don't think evangelicals don't care. I think that many of them, lacking exposure to the terrible conditions in poorer parts of the world, are unaware of how crippling, physically, emotionally and spiritually, poverty can be. But I also think that some are stepping out as leaders to tell the others that they need to look at their mission as showing bringing Christ to others in any way possible, even if that means not even mentioning him for the first six months.
Rick Warren, one of the most well-known American evangelicals, and author of best-seller The Purpose-Driven Life, is one of these. He wrote: "I deeply believe that if we as evangelicals remain silent and do not speak up in defense of the poor, we lose our credibility and our right to witness about God's love for the world," Warren wrote, adding that, "We all grieved when 250,000 lives were lost in the tsunami in Southeast Asia. But there is a health tsunami of that proportion in Africa every 12 days!"
The focus of most evangelicals is on what comes after this life. They see God as a God who bestows favour on those whom He loves, so they are not afraid to ask Him for health and wealth (with the caveat that they will not be consumed by their material possessions, but still give Him first place). I don't see this as necessarily translating into a belief that the poor have less of God's favour than the rich.
But, because of their focus on the world after this one, they see their mission here primarily as meeting people's spiritual needs, rather than physical ones. This is what people who are more inclined towards social justice have a problem with, as they see evangelicals seriously lacking in efforts to meet the needs of the poor and reaching out to those less fortunate.
As a Christian, I believe that my primary duty is to share Christ with those around me. But, having grown up in a developing country, I am also aware that, when people are working 16 hours a day or more for a pittance, sharing a tiny one-room hut with their wife, eight kids, parents and a brother or sister, they are not in a position to listen and accept that the most important thing they need to do is turn to Christ. Therefore, I am also aware that there are different ways to share Christ with others. For some, talking is the way. For others, reaching out in the name of Christ to fulfill their needs, and practically showing them His love, is the answer. This is even in the Bible: 1 John 3:17 says, "If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?"
Those who approach people living in such abject poverty with nothing but the Gospel, powerful as it is, will only succeed in alientating them. To borrow from Maslow's hierarchy of needs, people cannot move to the psychological, emotional and spiritual fulfillment, unless their basic needs are met. People cannot be made to think about their spiritual well-being if their mere physical existence is a fight from one day to the next. There are people who turn to God because they have no other hope, and their live on earth is so bad that all they have to look forward to is their life after this one. But there are not very many of these people, and the way to reach most others who are in the depths of poverty is to help get them out of it first.
I don't think evangelicals don't care. I think that many of them, lacking exposure to the terrible conditions in poorer parts of the world, are unaware of how crippling, physically, emotionally and spiritually, poverty can be. But I also think that some are stepping out as leaders to tell the others that they need to look at their mission as showing bringing Christ to others in any way possible, even if that means not even mentioning him for the first six months.
Rick Warren, one of the most well-known American evangelicals, and author of best-seller The Purpose-Driven Life, is one of these. He wrote: "I deeply believe that if we as evangelicals remain silent and do not speak up in defense of the poor, we lose our credibility and our right to witness about God's love for the world," Warren wrote, adding that, "We all grieved when 250,000 lives were lost in the tsunami in Southeast Asia. But there is a health tsunami of that proportion in Africa every 12 days!"
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
When I call on Jesus. . .
There are some days when molehills truly seem like mountains, and even the smallest of troubles seems completely insurmountable. I was having one of those days today, and no amount of stern talking to myself helped to make things any better. But in the midst of the tears, I realised that I had brought the situation on myself, if by nothing else, then by acting like I could do things on my own, without my Maker. And now, things had gotten to a point where I couldn't handle it, emotionally speaking, and I needed some serious rescuing. And I remembered a song by Christian singer Nicole C. Mullen, that I used to listen to in college, when I was feeling down and low, and how it used to put things in perspective, and help me realise how helpless I was without Him. And for the first time in a long time, I got down on my knees, and cried my eyes out to the only person who could really help.
And I sang along to the song, and a sort of peace descended on me, and I felt, after a very long time, that I was being cared for and loved in a way that I haven't bothered to acknowledge, and that, while I was searching for approval and fulfillment elsewhere, Christ has been patiently waiting for me to discover that His grace alone is sufficient for me.
Here are the inspired words that put things in perspective for me:
I'm so very ordinary
Nothing special on my own
I have never walked on water
I have never calmed a storm
Sometimes I'm hiding away from the madness around me
Like a child who's afraid of the dark
But when I call on Jesus
All things are possible
I can mount on wings like eagles and soar
When I call on Jesus
Mountains are gonna fall
'Cause He'll move heaven and earth
to come rescue me when I call
Weary brother
Broken daughter
Widowed, widowed lover
You're not alone
If you're tired and scared of the madness around you
If you can't find the strength to carry on
When you call on Jesus
All things are possible
You can mount on wings like eagles and soar
When you call on Jesus
Mountains are 'gonna fall
'Cause He'll move heaven and earth
to come and rescue you when you call
Call him in the mornin'
In the afternoon time
Late in the evenin'
He'll be there
When your heart is broken
And you feel discouraged
You can just remember that He said
He'll be there
When I call on Jesus
All things are possible
I can mount on wings like eagles and soar
When I call on Jesus
Mountains are gonna fall
'Cause He'll move heaven and earth
to come rescue me when I call
And I sang along to the song, and a sort of peace descended on me, and I felt, after a very long time, that I was being cared for and loved in a way that I haven't bothered to acknowledge, and that, while I was searching for approval and fulfillment elsewhere, Christ has been patiently waiting for me to discover that His grace alone is sufficient for me.
Here are the inspired words that put things in perspective for me:
I'm so very ordinary
Nothing special on my own
I have never walked on water
I have never calmed a storm
Sometimes I'm hiding away from the madness around me
Like a child who's afraid of the dark
But when I call on Jesus
All things are possible
I can mount on wings like eagles and soar
When I call on Jesus
Mountains are gonna fall
'Cause He'll move heaven and earth
to come rescue me when I call
Weary brother
Broken daughter
Widowed, widowed lover
You're not alone
If you're tired and scared of the madness around you
If you can't find the strength to carry on
When you call on Jesus
All things are possible
You can mount on wings like eagles and soar
When you call on Jesus
Mountains are 'gonna fall
'Cause He'll move heaven and earth
to come and rescue you when you call
Call him in the mornin'
In the afternoon time
Late in the evenin'
He'll be there
When your heart is broken
And you feel discouraged
You can just remember that He said
He'll be there
When I call on Jesus
All things are possible
I can mount on wings like eagles and soar
When I call on Jesus
Mountains are gonna fall
'Cause He'll move heaven and earth
to come rescue me when I call
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