The Christmas Harp

He was just a youth, and he loved music with all his heart, and he longed to be able to express the melody that was in his soul. But he could not; he had a harp and he often tried to play on it; but his clumsy fingers only made such discord that his companions laughed at him and mocked him, and called him a madman because he would not give it up, but would rather sit apart by himself, with his arms about his harp, looking up into the sky, while they gathered around their fire and told tales to wile away their long night vigils as they watched their sheep on the hills. But to him the thoughts that came out of the great silence were far sweeter than their mirth; and he never gave up the hope, which sometimes left his lips as a prayer, that some day he might be able to express those thoughts in music to the tired, weary, forgetful world.

On the first Christmas night he was out with his fellow shepherds on the hills. It was chill and dark, and all, except him, were glad to gather around the fire. He sat, as usual, by himself, with his harp on his knee and a great longing in his heart. And there came a marvellous light in the sky and over the hills, as if the darkness of the night had suddenly blossomed into a wonderful meadow of flowery flame; and all the shepherds saw the angels and heard them sing. And as they sang, the harp that the young shepherd held began to play softly by itself, and as he listened to it he realized that it was playing the same music that the angels sang and that all his secret longings and aspirations and strivings were expressed in it.

From that night, whenever he took the harp in his hands, it played the same music; and he wandered all over the world carrying it; wherever the sound of its music was heard hate and discord fled away and peace and good-will reigned. No one who heard it could think an evil thought; no one could feel hopeless or despairing or bitter or angry. When a man had once heard that music it entered into his soul and heart and life and became a part of him for ever.

Years went by; the shepherd grew old and bent and feeble; but still he roamed over land and sea, that his harp might carry the message of the Christmas night and the angel song to all mankind. At last his strength failed him and he fell by the wayside in the darkness; but his harp played as his spirit passed; and it seemed to him that a Shining One stood by him, with wonderful starry eyes, and said to him, 'Lo, the music thy harp has played for so many years has been but the echo of the love and sympathy and purity and beauty in thine own soul; and if at any time in the wanderings thou hadst opened the door of that soul to evil or envy or selfishness thy harp would have ceased to play. Now thy life is ended; but what thou hast given to mankind has no end; and as long as the world lasts, so long will the heavenly music of the Christmas harp ring in the ears of men.'

When the sun rose the old shepherd lay dead by the roadside, with a smile on his face; and in his hands was a harp with all its strings broken.

-L. M. Montgomery, The Golden Road, (Bantam Books: 1993), 19-20

Image courtesy of harfenspieler.de

Thinking About Love

Many waters cannot quench love,
neither can floods drown it.
If a man offered for love
all the wealth of his house,
he would be utterly despised.

-Song of Solomon 8:7

I'm increasingly persuaded that I don't understand love for what it really is. It's much too wild and holy for us to pin down, explain, or even draw perimeters for.

Love doesn't fit into any of the clichés made for it. Love isn't "blind" - it's more that it can't believe it's eyes. I don't know where "cloud 9" is and I don't really care. "Head over heels" perhaps comes the closest, but it still sounds a bit too haphazard.

Maybe the inadequacy of these euphemisms should tell us something. Love is not something you understand. Love is something you do. It's a verb, not a noun. It takes you over, like a spontaneous, can't-help-it smile, shredding your selfishness into bits and drawing you into the nature of God.

God is love. Selah

Love is not self-seeking. It's not even self-conscious. Real love isn't thinking about loving, it just loves. It does what it is. Snow falls. Birds fly. Love loves.

Once you've experienced it, you want it for everyone; it's much too beautiful and sacred to keep to yourself. To have the opportunity to open yourself up and pour yourself out so completely for someone else is wonderful; for them to reciprocate that openness and affection is very heaven.

Love is not a commodity. You can't buy it or sell it. You can't even earn it. There are many sorry substitutes that are about as real as a plastic rose, but don't give up. The real thing is out there. You'll know it when you smell it. As my Grandfather says, wait for the zing.

I've been captured. I don't know all of what's in store , but I know I'll never be the same.

I love you Jessica!

I thought it was full but it was halfway to the top / Love is an ocean, and I am a tiny cup...

-Sandra McCracken, Red Balloon, "Halfway"

Image courtesy of somervillemanning.com

Something Beautiful

Last Thursday, I took Jessica to the beach for the afternoon. We had a nice drive across the valley, talking, eating french fries, and reading A Bear Called Paddington. In Templeton, we picked up some feed for Leah's goats and enjoyed a wonderful lunch with the Welch's.

Our destination was the W. R. Hearst State Beach in San Simeon. It was a beautiful day on the coast - warm with high clouds and a light breeze. Once Jessica had a chance to put her toes in the water, we walked down the beach and picked up a trail along the bluff through the Eucalyptus trees.

After stopping to climb some trees, we found a path back down to the water and explored some of the tide pools, looking at the crabs and starfish, watching the pelicans and gulls gliding above the water, and just enjoying being together.

It was 4:30 in the afternoon. I suggested we start heading back to the beach, and we turned around. We walked in silence, listening to the rustling wind and the rhythm of the surf. Beauty. Youth. Peace.

Love.

We got back to the main beach and explored some more tide pools. Anemones, barnacles, and more starfish. The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon, and a full moon was rising over the hills behind us, glowing soft in the evening mist.

"It's all enchanted and wild / Just like my heart said it was gonna be..."

-Nickel Creek, Nickel Creek, "Out Of The Woods"

There was a long pier extending over the water, and I asked her if we could walk out on it before we left. We stood at the end, looking out over the water, listening to the bells on the buoys and watching the pelicans diving in search of food.

After a few minutes we went over to a bench and sat on the backrest with our feet on the seat so we could see over the rail of the pier better.

I told her some poetry that I'd written and memorized as a preface to my proposal. Then I got down on my knee on the bench seat, took her hands in mine, and told her that I loved her - desperately, with everything I am. I told her I was ready to commit the rest of my life to loving her, caring for her, protecting her, sheltering her. And then I asked her if she would be my wife.

She said yes.

Four times.

Giddy, I unzipped my coat pocket and retrieved the ring. I slipped it on her finger, and we embraced hard - still having trouble believing we weren't dreaming. I was choking back sobs, but mostly we were too amazed to cry.

The sky was crisscrossed with brilliant color. We sat on the bench with our arms around each other, both in awe of what had just taken place. I said "It's us now, in everything," and she said "Yes..." and sighed happily. We prayed together about the future, fully conscious of the holiness of the moment.

"We don't know / And we won't know / What we're in for / But it's something beautiful..."

-Alex Mejias, Alex Mejias, "Something Beautiful"

I never dreamed.

We walked back down the pier, hand in hand for the first time. On the way to the restaurant, we called our families and told them the news. The celebration spread like electricity.

Looking at each other across the table at the restaurant, we still couldn't believe it. We ordered and tried to eat, and after the meal I gave her a Bible. Then it was time to drive home.

A piece of advice for the guys: get an automatic transmission. It makes holding hands a lot easier.

What no eye has seen, nor ear heard,
nor the heart of man imagined,
what God has prepared for those who love him.

-1 Corinthians 2:9

For the Love of Books

My 17 latest acquisitions, from a few used bookstores and a library book sale:

Lord Of The Flies - William Golding
Black Dog Of Fate - Peter Balakian
The Writing Life - Annie Dillard
No Man Is an Island - Thomas Merton
The Singer - Calvin Miller
A Wrinkle in Time - Madeleine L'Engle
The Penal Colony - Franz Kafka
The Face Of God - Bill Myers
The Gates Of The Forest - Elie Wiesel
The Living - Annie Dillard
The Seven Storey Mountain - Thomas Merton
The Shaping Of A Christian Family - Elisabeth Elliot
The Borrowers - Mary Norton
Night - Elie Wiesel
Redeeming The Time - Leland Ryken
The Odyssey - Homer
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain

Image courtesy of tempe.gov

Eating Jesus

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.

Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.

Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me.

This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever."

-John 6:54-58

Jesus preaches a new definition of life. (John 10:10) A life that is full and fulfilled. A life that is peaceful. A life that is eternal. A life that is real.

This new life requires new provisions. Just as to live you need to eat, to stay alive spiritually you need spiritual sustenance. We find this sustenance in the person and presence of Christ. I don't know all of what this means, but I believe it.

When Jesus says that his flesh is true food and his blood is true drink, he is not saying that his flesh is as real as real food, or that his blood is as real as real drink. Rather he is saying that his flesh is more real than real food, and that his blood is more real than real drink.

Jesus is offering something that transcends the dust-to-dust cycle of mortality. He is offering himself. For us he was broken, for us he was made sin (2 Cor. 5:21 - was made it!), "by his stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:4-6)

I have come with one purpose / To capture for myself a bride / By my life she is lovely / And by my death she's justified... I have long pursued her / As a harlot and a whore / And she will feast upon me / She will drink and thirst no more / So when you taste / My flesh and my blood / You will know / You're not alone...

-Derek Webb, She Must And Shall Go Free, "The Church"

We need a more robust practice of communion in the Church today. No, I don't know what this looks like - I just sense we need it. We need to be partaking directly of the person of Christ and identifying directly with his life. "Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me." I'm not a proponent of transubstantiation, but I have to give some credit to our Lutheran and Roman Catholic friends for taking the sacrament as seriously as they do.

We need to be eating Jesus.

Image courtesy of lcms.org

Thankful...

...for life,
for my family,
for Jessica,
for the wisdom of friends,
for the mercy of God,
for challenge and change,
for seasons,
for mountains and deserts,
for forests and beaches,
for poetry and prayer,
for potatoes and wine and cranberry pie,
for starry nights,
for grace for the past,
hope for the future,
and peace for the present.

When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: then said they among the heathen, The Lord hath done great things for them.
The Lord hath done great things for us; whereof we are glad.
Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south.
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.

-Psalm 126, KJV

Image courtesy of vagabondish.com

I Can't Write

Tomorrow morning I drive to San Francisco to pick up Jessica. It's been 47 days since I've seen her, and I feel like one of those little wind-up cars feels when you pull it all the way back and hold it there. I'm exhausted, excited, twitterpated, and several other things. But I can't write. At all. I tried.

After tomorrow I should be myself again.

"When love has got you in its throes / even the summer's heat just freezes your soul / and the sweetest song - it just clanks along / and the morning dew just says goodnight and leaves your heart undone..."

Image courtesy of robinsdocksideshop.com

Thinking Christianly About Art

(Image from banksy.co.uk)

To interest is the first duty of art; no other excellences will even begin to compensate for failure in this, and very serious faults will be covered by this, as by charity. -C. S. Lewis

True Christian imaging meets violence head-on, mine and the world's, but also God's... We must learn early to seek God within the wounds that reality inflicts. -Janine Langan

Art and prayer have never been conceived by the Church as enemies, and where the Church has been austere it has only been because she meant to insist on the essential difference between art and entertainment. -Thomas Merton

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. -James 1:17

The tragedy is that so many Christians, in their revulsion at the perverse aspects of [empty postmodern] art, shun all art, even that which may spring from a God-honoring imagination or a Christocentric consciousness. The other "Christian" alternative is a conservatism that responds only to kitsch, a sentimental art of the Hallmark greeting card variety that cheapens true sentiment, turning it into sweetness and light and mere moralistic propaganda - no teeth, no guts, no muscle, no reality. No real Christianity either, if we consider the Creator's work as our powerful, radical model.
But kitsch is easy. It is accessible as a Thomas Kinkade painting, and as stereotypical. It is manipulative and narcotic, and by contrast it makes true art seem difficult or complicated. For true art is not all sweet reasonableness. -Luci Shaw

We know in part. We see through a glass darkly. But it is worth our looking. -Elisabeth Elliot

The first demand any work of any art makes upon us is surrender. Look. Listen. Receive. Get yourself out of the way. -C. S. Lewis

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. -Romans 12:2

Prisons, let it be said, have fostered far more art and mystical insight than any Arts Council, Ministry of Culture or other such effort in the way of governmental encouragement. -Malcolm Muggeridge

Art is the signature of man. -G. K. Chesterton

Protestantism - the adroit castrator
Of art; the bitter negation
Of song and dance and the heart’s innocent joy -
You have botched our flesh and left us only the soul’s
Terrible impotence in a warm world. -R. S. Thomas

Big Family Survival - Part 4: Laundry

Yes, the famed Big Family Survival series is back! I have several more posts in the queue, all dealing with the delightful and dramatic mayhem of living in a family large enough to qualify for its own zip code.

Today we're dealing with one of the most mundane chores of modern life: laundry. Everyone needs clothing washed periodically, especially young kids whose primary idea of fun is seeing how much mud and grass they can get onto their clothes in the least amount of time, or older kids whose occupations involve large amounts of dirt, sawdust, cement, and other assorted substances.

The mound of soiled laundry at our house is affectionately referred to as "Mt. Telianappolis," and for good reason. Climbing Mt. Telianappolis is a constant test of stamina and will. Battling valiantly through an avalanche of soiled jeans, dirty jumpers, and smelly socks, the laundry sorter organizes the chaos by color and weight into wicker baskets. That's the hard part.

From there, everyone processes their assigned loads: from the basket to the washer (don't forget to "check the pockets"), from the washer to the dryer (don't forget to "shake the jeans"), from the dryer back to the basket, from the basket to the couch (to be folded), and from the couch to the appropriate bedrooms.

Knowing what is what and whose is whose at our house requires a Ph.d. in laundrology. Reading size tags on jeans, noting miniscule differences in sock design, and developing a detailed knowledge of your siblings' wardrobes are all part of the art. Sometimes certain loads are assigned to certain people because they're the only ones who have memorized the article ownership, and yes, that includes underwear.

This all may sound like a perfectly well-oiled machine, and it usually is. Sometimes, however, the evil laundry monster rears his ugly head, and a pair of shorts or a fleece pullover mysteriously disappears. The process of recovering such an item can take weeks. Sometimes it's buried deep in the bowels of the laundry sorter. Sometimes it winds up in your neighbour's closet or chest-of-drawers. Sometimes it winds up on the pile for Goodwill in the garage (true story!).

My favorite load was always "towels." One, they're nobody's, so you don't have to worry about that. Two, they're nice simple geometric shapes - squares and rectangles - so they're a breeze to fold. (I still can't fold T-shirts "tight" - and "fitted sheets" are an absolute nightmare, even with a partner. And why for heaven's sake do we always have to fold the stupid thing in "thirds"??)

Our laundry system is rather like the Postal Service in that it provides consistent service but very unpredictable results. Depending on when you put your clothes into the central hamper it can take anywhere from several hours to a week or more. The average tends to be about two or three days: if you need it faster you may need to do it yourself.

Because our house is two stories, with the bedrooms upstairs and the laundry facilities downstairs, Dad designed a "laundry chute" that is truly an engineering marvel. Essentially, it's a curved piece of melamine in an upstairs cabinet that directs soiled clothing through a hole in the downstairs ceiling into the laundry cabinet, with a very satisfying whooshing sound. Genius.

The only drawback to the laundry chute is that it occasionally gets "clogged." Depending on the severity of the "clog," you can generally ram the clothes through with your foot. Other times you have to get down on your hands and knees and fish everything out piece by piece in order to clear the blockage, which is quite exasperating, but you always feel very noble and heroic afterwards, so it's worth it.

(Common-sense etiquette requires that you ensure your clothing sails completely through the chute without getting jammed. If you clog it, you clear it - just like a toilet. However, not everyone abides by the code and it's not always easy to enforce.)

In a big family, you can make scandals and celebrations out of almost anything - even dirty clothes.

Image courtesy of campus-cleaners.com

The Reflected Face Of Evil

Note: this post is a rewrite of a speech I gave this week for the young men's group I'm a part of. The slideshow below is the powerpoint I prepared for the presentation.

At the heart of the world there lies a profound conflict, normally referred to as the conflict between good and evil. This is accurate and suitable enough for most purposes, but I believe there is a deeper and more fundamental way of thinking about the problem. Instead of good vs. evil, we should understand this conflict as love vs. self.

How it Begins: The Fall

To understand the destructive nature of self, we have first to understand The Fall. And to understand The Fall, we have to understand Satan's original rebellion that resulted in his exile from heaven and his subsequent deception of man. This rebellion is described in dramatic detail by Isaiah:

"How you are fallen from heaven,
O Day Star, son of Dawn!
How you are cut down to the ground,
you who laid the nations low!
You said in your heart,
'I will ascend to heaven;
above the stars of God
I will set my throne on high;
I will sit on the mount of assembly
in the far reaches of the north;
I will ascend above the heights of the clouds;
I will make myself like the Most High.'"¹

What little word do you notice recurring repeatedly in that quote? The tiny and terrible pronoun I. Satan's downfall was not a delight in evil - it was his desire to exalt himself. After he was cast out of heaven and began his program of sabotage, he appealed to the same desire within man.

The Creation

God created Adam and Eve free and fulfilled. He made them autonomous beings and placed within them the desire for relationship with Himself. The self was created by God and for God, and as such it is good, as long as it is properly related to God.

(As a point of semantics, I should make it clear that I do not believe the self to be inherently bad; it is self-will and self-interest are the problem. In this article I am using the term "self" in reference to these destructive qualities.)

The Temptation

The temptation of the Fall, specifically, was to "be like God." As we saw in Isaiah's description of Satan's fall, the root of sin is a desire to exalt the self - not a delight in evil as such. The Serpent took Adam and Eve's innocent, God-given desire to know God, and perverted it into a desire to be God - effectively substituting self for love.

The Devastation

The self, morally corrupted and removed from fellowship with God, becomes enslaved in sin. It doesn't take long for the rebellious desire for exaltation, knowledge, and power to deteriorate into boldfaced wickedness. The self continues to demand more and more, the conscience is dulled, and the noose of sin begins to tighten.

How it Happens: The Slavery of Self

J. R. R. Tolkien offers us some profound commentary on the destructive nature of self in the Silmarillion, describing the spider Ungoliant:

She had disowned her Master, desiring to be mistress of her own lust, taking all things to herself to feed her emptiness; and she fled to the south, escaping the assaults of the Valar and the hunters of Oromë, for their vigilance had ever been to the north, and the south was long unheeded. Thence she had crept towards the light of the Blessed Realm; for she hungered for light and hated it... In a ravine she lived, and took shape as a spider of monstrous form, weaving her black webs in a cleft in the mountains. There she sucked up all light that she could find, and spun it forth again in dark nets of strangling gloom, until no light more could come to her abode; and she was famished.²

The self is like a black hole: it violently turns everything - including itself - into nothingness.

Self is selfishness, Love is otherness. Self cannot love because it cannot ascribe priority to someone else. Love, on the other hand, is so abandoned that it is not even self-conscious. We love most and best when we're thinking about the object of our love, not the love itself.

Self is what we hold and cling to, Love is what we give and release. "I remember what Susan Said / How love is found in the things we've given up / More than in the things that we've kept..." (Rich Mullins)

Self implodes our natures, Love expands them. This is why C. S. Lewis (in Letters to Malcolm) suggests that Heaven will display much more variety than Hell. Heaven is full of people whose natures have been expanded and developed into the fullness God intended for them, while Hell is full of people who have chosen themselves over and over again, until their once-beautiful nature collapses in upon itself in a cloud of dust.

Self is a mirror, Love is a window. The self is "the reflected face of evil," drawing us ever inward until there's nowhere else to go. Love is outward, drawing us ever "further up and further in," as impossible vistas open up on every side and we are quite literally beside ourselves with wonder and delight.

Satan is Self, God is Love. The devil prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking prey to devour, the very incarnation of death. God offers himself as a sacrifice, for the express purpose of creating a way for us to share in his death-defying, self-transcending life.

How it Ends: Hell

Hell is the inevitable destination of unchecked self-dom. Sheldon Vanauken, in his book A Severe Mercy, says "We saw self as the ultimate danger to love, which it is; we didn’t see it as the ultimate evil of hell, which it also is."³ Fyodor Dostoevsky, in The Brothers Karamazov, makes a similar point with this chilling statement: "I ask myself: 'What is hell?' And I answer thus: 'The suffering of being no longer able to love.'"⁴

C. S. Lewis in The Problem of Pain provides what is quite possibly the clearest explanation of how this tragic end is reached:

They wanted, as we say, to 'call their souls their own.' But that means to live a lie, for our souls are not, in fact, our own. They wanted some corner in the universe of which they could say to God, 'This is our business, not yours.' But there is no such corner... The damned are, in a sense, successful, rebels to the end; [..] the doors of hell are locked on the inside. I do not mean that the ghosts may not wish to come out of hell, in the vague fashion wherein an envious man 'wishes' to be happy: but they certainly do not will even the first preliminary stages of that self-abandonment through which alone the soul can reach any good. They enjoy forever the horrible freedom they have demanded, and are therefore self-enslaved: just as the blessed, forever submitting to obedience, become through all eternity more and more free.⁵

God does not coerce or compel his creatures, and so when man insists on having his corner, God allows him it. The doors of hell are locked from the inside.

Love: The Redemption of the Self

Living in a fallen world, we are all subject to the slavery of self. We have nothing left to do but cry out in desperation with the Philippian jailer: "What must we do to be saved?" How do we get out? What can we do to escape this self-destructive force that has shackled the world?

We find the answer in the first and greatest commandment.

And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.”⁶

Love God with everything you are, and love your neighbor as yourself. This is the only way to overcome the destructive nature of the self. Still, in and of ourselves we are powerless to do this, like a man standing in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle. This realization should lead us to the Cross.

We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.⁷

We love because he first loved us - that's the why and the how. It is only in accepting God's love that we are enabled to love our brother, and it is only in loving our brother that we truly love God - it cannot be abstracted.

Our one need is to simply be people who are loved for free, who are filled with love for free, and who therefore love all other people for free.⁸

When we lay down our lives and love others, the process of self-destruction is arrested and reversed. "Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

Love is the redemption of the self. The Cross, the greatest symbol of love ever, is a crossed-out I.

(1) Isaiah 14:12-14, ESV
(2) J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, (Houghton Mifflin, 1977), 73
(3) Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy, (Harper & Row, 1977), 37
(4) Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1990), 322
(5) C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, (New York: HarperCollins, 1996), 75, 130
(6) Luke 10:25-28, ESV
(7) 1 John 4:19-20, ESV
(8) Greg Boyd, Repenting of Religion, (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2004), 105

For Meditation

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling.

Selah

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
The nations rage, the kingdoms totter:
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

Come, behold the works of the Lord,
how he has brought desolations on the earth.
He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the chariots with fire.
"Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!"
The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

-Psalm 46, ESV

Strategic Stewardship

The Christian is constitutionally sensitive to the vast needs of the world - both spiritual and practical. This awareness is good. If it isn't a problem we can solve, at least it's a burden we can carry and care about. I think it's only damaging when it turns into a sort of depression - or, alternately, a sort of frenzy - and prevents us from enjoying what God has given us to enjoy.

The encouragement of Ecclesiastes is to accept and enjoy the fruits of your labor as a gift from God. For me to not enjoy what I have does nothing for my neighbor who has less. The world needs more enjoyment, more celebration of what is good.

With that in mind, 2 Corinthians 9 is very clear about giving willingly and joyfully, and I wholeheartedly believe in that. I think Christians ought to take the pain of the world very seriously. Consider these lines from Derek Webb's song This Too Shall Be Made Right:

"I don't know the suffering of people outside my front door / And I join the oppressors of those I choose to ignore / I'm trading comfort for human life / And that's not just murder, it's suicide / And this too shall be made right..."

At the same time, "taking the pain of the world seriously" does not always mean simply throwing money at it. We can give and invest ourselves in many other ways, some of them much deeper than direct financial aid.

In Dissident Discipleship, David Augsburger makes a distinction between "simple" service and "strategic" service. They're both good and legitimate ways to serve, they're just different.

• Simple service is frontal, direct, raw: children in Haiti need food - let's send money to this organization that is trying to feed them. Strategic service is more thoughtful and takes in the big picture.
• Simple service asks: are we contributing all we have? Strategic service asks: how do we contribute what we have and invest ourselves into the world in ways that will have lasting and far-reaching effects?
• Simple service offers the five loaves and two fish. Strategic service invests the five talents to earn five more.

This is not to exalt pragmatism, but rather to suggest some thought and deliberation before we rush headlong and burn ourselves out. We have only one life to live, and we want it to count. There's some wisdom to be learned from the man who says "Give me six hours to cut down a tree, and I'll spend the first four sharpening my axe."

It's counter-intuitive, but investing ourselves in the people around us, even if their needs aren't as dramatic as those of children in Africa, may often be more consistent with our calling as disciples in the Kingdom. Deepening our understanding of the world and developing our communication to the world ought to be high priorities also, especially for those of us who have inherited a love of language and letters. This allows us to engage the world with truth and meaning, which, alongside the simple love of a cup of cold water, changes lives and redeems human resources for the service of Christ.

These are some of the reasons I am unapologetically building a library and seeking to learn all I can about the world and how to develop my voice within it. The books and music that I buy - and the backpacks and hiking boots too - are means of exploring and understanding the world, so I can then write, speak, sing, and give with greater knowledge, greater appreciation, and greater relevance.

"And the pain of the world is a burden / And it's my cross to bear / And I stumble under all the weight / And I know you're Simon standing there..."

-Caedmon's Call, Long Line Of Leavers, "Love Alone"

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Long Straight Road

I want to walk down this long straight road in front of me
I want to see the glad sun shining on your face
I want to feel the gentle rain that makes the grass grow green
Like a righteous man who's still in need of grace

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The Beauty of the Specific

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity
In the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour¹

Timeless writing - that is, writing that transcends the daily news and has lasting meaning - is a wonderful thing. Sadly, however, I often fall prey to the illusion that the more generalised and detached from real life my writing is, the more timeless it will be. This is wrong. Somewhat paradoxically, writing is only truly timeless when it is time-full; anchored in a real place, located in real sequence, and packed with rich draughts of distilled and fermented experience.

Great authors like G. K. Chesterton or C. S. Lewis understood this well. They knew that the worst way to write timelessly was to deliberately set out to do so, and as such they did not hesitate in the least to use real people, real dialogue, and plenty of proper nouns and culture-specific terms in their writing. They understood that all of us write in space and time, and that the crowning literary achievement is not to divorce your surroundings but rather to celebrate them and make them come alive.

Very few of us can write inventively, out of thin air. The ideas in this post, though brewing inside me for some time, have been brought to life and shaped by very concrete things that I've been doing recently, such as talking with Jessica, reading a book called The Christian Imagination (excellent), and so on. Most writing, then, far from being creation from nothing, is simply a compilation - an organization of varied and loosely linked experiences into a coherent whole.

I think the reason some of us are reticent about allowing our everyday experiences to inform and enliven our writing is that we are embarrased about our lives - we think our own experiences too crude or commonplace. Lacking a voice of our own, we pursue some abstracted poetic or scholarly identity, trying to make things "interesting." When we do this, we've completely missed the point. Noticing, probing, and sharing life as honestly and deeply as we possibly can is at the very heart of literary craftsmanship, and to do that we have to start with ourselves and our own experience.

We are here to witness and abet creation. To notice each thing so each thing gets noticed. Together we notice not only each mountain shadow and each stone on the beach but we notice each other's beautiful face and complex nature so that creation need not play to an empty house.²

"To witness and abet creation" means developing an eye for detail, for small things. The work of the writer is one of magnification; putting life under the microscope of appreciation, reflection, and imagination; being a scientist of the specific. Thus, the writer is deeply interested in facts, in particulars, in things as they are. And further, it is his intent to appreciate and comtemplate them in all of their self-existent splendor, not merely as a metaphor or a vehicle to some higher end.

The strangeness of things, which is the light in all poetry, and indeed in all art, is really connected with their otherness; or what is called their objectivity. What is subjective must be stale; it is exactly what is objective that is in this imaginative manner strange. In this the great contemplative is the complete contrary to that false contemplative, the mystic who looks only into his own soul, the selfish artist who shrinks from the world and lives only in his own mind... All the romance and glamour [of real things], so to speak, lies in the fact that they are real things; things not to be found by staring inwards at the mind. The flower is a vision because it is not only a vision. Or, if you will, it is a vision because it is not a dream. This is for the poet the strangeness of stones and trees and solid things; they are strange because they are solid.³

It has been observed that people are only interested in art because they are interested in the world, and when art ceases to be about the world, they lose interest. This unnatural division is a distinct danger for Christians, who are predisposed towards abstracting things in the name of spirituality. As Chesterton warns, "The main outline of the Christianity that has come down to us should be supernatural but not antinatural; and should never be darkened with a false spirituality to the oblivion of the Creator and the Christ who was made Man."⁴

All around us there is beauty in the specific: startling, tangible, and profoundly real. Rich Mullins sang "There's so much beauty around us for just two eyes to see / but everywhere I go, I'm looking..."

Let's live and write with open eyes.

(1) William Blake, Auguries of Innocence
(2) Annie Dillard, as quoted in Leland Ryken, Ed., The Christian Imagination, (Colorado Springs: Waterbrook Press, 2002), 90
(3) G. K. Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas: The Dumb Ox, (Doubleday, 1956), 153
(4) Ibid, 161

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Let Your Light Shine

"This little light of mine / I'm gonna let it shine / This little light of mine / I'm gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine..."

As Christians, we ought constantly to be asking questions about what it means to engage our culture with the Gospel - to facilitate introductions between the culture and Jesus. Here's a few for consideration:

• Should evangelism be deliberate and confrontational or incidental and relational?
• Are we using real words that have real meaning for real people?
• What parts of an authentically Christian witness ought to remain anchored and static and what parts ought to be fluid and dynamic?
• How do we present our message in a way that is at once sincere, humble, honest, creative, and winsome?
• To what degree are our methods and strategies based on pragmatism?

Each of these questions are capable of sparking an entire discussion in themselves, and maybe I can return to some of them later. For now, I want to focus on a simple distinction that affects how we think about our witness at a very basic level.

I call it "Let vs. Make."

Matthew 5:16 says "let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." The word I want us to notice here is the little word "let." We are to allow our light to shine - to leave it unrestricted, and not to force it. "Our light" is something God places within us that emanates naturally when we step out of the way and allow it to.

I think the way the Gospel is often shared today could be likened to shining a flashlight in someone's face. When you do this, they not only can't see anything around them, they can't even see the light, because it's being pointed at them and used incorrectly. Naturally, they close their eyes, and naturally, they're somewhat annoyed.

The whole purpose of letting our light shine is "that they may see." If they can't see, we have not fulfilled the scripture. We complain of people's hardness of heart, and wash our hands of their souls, declaring that we have done our duty as a watchman and "warned" them. We may have warned them, but have we illuminated the spiritual landscape for them so that they can understand and receive the warning?

The purpose of the light we shine is not to impress or inundate, but to illuminate - to push back against the darkness that has settled around the human heart and allow people to see - perhaps for the first time - the true condition of the world, the vastness of their need, and the staggering immensity of God's love.

Instead of a flashlight, we ought to hold a candle. Our light ought to glow, not glare. Like a warm fireside on a cold winter night, it should invite people to "come and see."

To this end, we need to rediscover a subtlety of expression and an appreciation for language and imagery that is deeper than mere moralism. At least as far as the arts are concerned, it's not necessary even that people can immediately tell it is Christian. Most of the time, they should simply be conscious of a strong, steady glow, full of life and health.

The better the artist, one almost may say, the more subtle the preacher. Inventive persuasion, not blunt exhortation, commonly is the method of the literary champion of norms.¹

Our faith informs our art and witness from within. The yeast is supposed to go inside the bread. In fact, when yeast is used properly, you shouldn't even know it's there. Our witness ought to be like yeast, or candlelight, or wind. "The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

What this means is that Christians ought to be making real art and expressing themselves as real people, letting their light shine, continually working towards a deeper knowledge of God, a deeper understanding of people, and a more creative and holistic way of thinking Christianly about art and witness.

We don't need more people writing Christian books. What we need is more Christians writing good books. I don't think we need more people making Christian movies. What we need is more Christians making good movies.²

Christians do not get some kind of special pass. We are not entitled to be heard simply because of who we are. Zeal is not a substitute for quality, and volume is not a substitute for perceptiveness. Just like anyone, we need good manners, good grammar, and artistic sensibility if we want to have a meaningful cultural voice. It is true that "the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow," but to be effective it must be rightly handled and wielded with skill.

There is altogether too much explanation and explicitness in Evangelicalism, and not enough understanding and evocative subtlety. God rarely explains. God merely speaks, or perhaps shows, and then leaves time for questions and room for active faith. Sometimes the Still Small Voice is louder than the megaphone.

(1) Richard Terrell, Christian Fiction: Piety Is Not Enough, as quoted in Leland Ryken, Ed., The Christian Imagination, (Colorado Springs, Waterbrook Press: 2002), 252
(2) Douglas Gresham, in an interview with Steve Brown

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Of Thirsty Souls, Far Countries, and Good News

Disclaimer: There are certain times in our lives when we are confronted with the simultaneous necessity and impossibility of conveying something with words. This is one of those times.

After an unprecedented month-and-a-half hiatus, I am returning to Sojourner's Song. You may be wondering what reasons I can give for my extended absence, especially if you've been missing my erudite literary analysis, profound social commentary, and penetrating spiritual insights, as I'm sure you have. Well, I have a very good reason - in fact, I can't think of a better one.

I've been chasing a girl.

Her name is Jessica. She's 22, thoroughly beautiful, deeply intelligent, and overflowing with love for God and life. She's well-read, well-traveled (India, Thailand, New Zealand, and all over the States,) and... well, adjectives have their limits.

In August, I discovered her blog: The Scribbles of a Sojourner. I was immediately struck by the quality and maturity of her writing, and sent her a short message saying so. She responded, and thus began an ongoing conversation that has been growing deeper and more delightful ever since.

Though she's originally from central Idaho, she's currently living in New Zealand, so at the end of September I boarded a plane in San Francisco to go meet her. I was there for a week and half, and it was wonderful. We enjoyed some long walks, many deep conversations, and a beautiful date at a local restaurant, after a lovely time exploring Queen's Park and taking a long stroll down the beach.

So, much has changed. I'm ready to get back to writing, and I'm excited about sharing the sojourn again. (Psalm 45:1) As usual, there's much to see and discover, and much to learn and understand. At least, if I have a lot to say over the next few months about a four-letter word beginning with "L", you'll know why.

It's a wild ride, and sometimes I don't feel very brave. But God's mercy is an amazing thing, and if we can learn to stand under it, nothing is impossible.

"You came in without notice / and settled all around my heart / took up residence in the places / that were vacant and dark / I wish I could tell you / but I just can't find the words..."

-Sandra McCracken, "Springtime Indiana"

Note: This is a courtship, not an engagement. Please gossip responsibly.

Image courtesy of Jessica

An Intermission

As you may have noticed, I haven't been blogging much lately. Besides being generally busy with work, family, and Church, there have been some other matters consuming most of my time, thought, and writing impetus.

Accordingly, I'm announcing an indefinite intermission here at Sojourner's Song. I plan to return as soon as I can, because I really feel the journey is worth sharing.

As always, thanks for reading. There's still plenty of new things to explore and talk about, and I'm certainly looking forward to picking up the discussion again. To steal a line from Steve Brown Etc. - "Like Jesus, I'm coming back!"

N. T. Wright on the Authority of Scripture

The apostolic writings, like the "word" which they now wrote down, were not simply about the coming of God's Kingdom into all the world; they were, and were designed to be, part of the means whereby that happened.¹

The New Testament understands itself as the new covenant charter, the book that forms the basis for the new telling of the story through which Christians are formed, reformed and transformed so as to be God's people for God's world. That is the challenge the early Christians bequeath to us as we reconsider what "the authority of scripture" might mean in practice today.²

What does it mean to appeal to "the authority of scripture"? This phrase is sometimes used as a way of saying, "A plague on all your scholarship; we just believe the Bible." This is simply unsustainable. Without scholars to provide Greek lexicons and translations based on them, few today could read the New Testament. Without scholarship to explain the world of the first century, few today could begin to understand it (as often becomes painfully evident when people without such explanations try to read it aloud, let alone expound it). Scholarship of some sort is always assumed; what the protest often means, unfortunately, is that the speakers prefer the scholarship implicit in their early training, which is now simply taken for granted as common knowledge, to the bother of having to wake up mentally and think fresh thoughts. Again and again, such older scholarship, and such older traditions of reading, turn out to be flawed or in need of supplementing. Today's and tomorrow's will be just the same, of course, but this does not absolve us from constantly trying to do better, from the never-ending attempt to understand scripture more fully. It is my own experience that such attempts regularly result in real advances (measured not least in terms of the deep and many-sided sense that is made of the text), and that even making the effort almost always results in fresh pastoral and homiletic insights. To affirm "the authority of scripture" is precisely not to say, "We know what scripture means and don't need to raise any more questions." It is always a way of saying that the church in each generation must make fresh and rejuvenated efforts to understand scripture more fully and live by it more thoroughly, even if that means cutting off cherished traditions.³

There is a great gulf fixed between those who want to prove the historicity of everything reported in the Bible in order to demonstrate that the Bible is "true" after all and those who, committed to living under the authority of scripture, remain open to what scripture itself actually teaches and emphasizes. Which is the bottom line: "proving the Bible to be true" (often with the effect of saying, "So we can go on thinking what we've always thought"), or taking it so seriously that we allow it to tell us things we'd never heard before and didn't particularly want to hear?⁴

(1) N. T. Wright, The Last Word, (HarperCollins, 2005), 51
(2) Ibid., 59
(3) Ibid., 90-91
(4) Ibid., 95

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Pundit Profile: Jacques Ellul

Jacques Ellul is a 20th-century French philosopher known for his nonconformist ideas and work on Christian Anarchism. I was introduced to him through Greg Boyd, and I've enjoyed having the opportunity to read some of his writings over the last several months.

Before we get started, I should make it clear that "anarchy" in this context does not denote "chaos" but rather "without rule," and yes, there is a difference. Really, it is unfortunate that the idea of freedom is so closely linked to the idea of chaos, because that reveals the pervasiveness of pagan thinking in modern society. Only Christianity successfully reconciles freedom and order, because only Christianity contains a comprehensive ethic of self-governance, spiritual empowerment, and mutual accountability. The Church exists in a perpetual state of peaceful, orderly anarchy, modeling the miracle of redemptive freedom before the world.

As a young man, Ellul was strongly influenced by Karl Marx, though he ultimately was forced to conclude that Marx's biases created fatal problems in his sociological theory. Only in turning to Christ (at age 22) did Ellul find the fullness of truth that he was seeking. Later, Ellul was to draw heavily on the ideas of Swiss Reformed theologian Karl Barth, especially in regards to his dialectic approach to truth and "revelation."

Perhaps the most important element in Ellul's work is his insistence on the dialectic and even paradoxical nature of truth. I find this stance to be scripturally consistent, intellectually compelling, and existentially honest.

According to Ellul biblical revelation provides the prototypical dialectic, for dialectic "is specifically a biblical concept," in contrast to philosophical thinking which tends to resolve and eliminate contradictions.¹

We have to recognize that everything in revelation is formulated in antithetical fashion... It unites two contrary truths that are truth only as they come together.²

There is no logic in the biblical revelation. There is no "either-or," only "both-and." We find this on every level.³

Dialectical tensions characterize the Christian life: "We are invited to take part in a dialectic, to be in the world but not of it."... By living out this boundary line existence, which is admittedly agonistic, the Christian reintroduces true dialectical tensions and creative, revolutionary possibilities within the historical process.⁴

Ellul is interested in the pursuit and preservation of biblical Christianity over and against Christendom, arguing that the Christian faith is essentially revolutionary and subversive. Ellul was advancing the idea of church as organism instead of organization long before it was the catchphrase it is today.

Though Ellul is a very original thinker, he is by no means isolated from the rest of the intellectual world, sharing common ground with a number of other great minds, such as Søren Kierkegaard, Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Vernard Eller, Dorothy Day, and Henry David Thoreau. Neither was his work limited solely to academia: he was active in the French resistance during World War II on behalf of the Jews, and also worked extensively to assist the delinquent youth of his home town of Bordeaux.

Ellul's work is essential for anyone who is tired of the tit-for-tat culture wars and interested in a thoughtful exploration of what it means to seek the Kingdom of God. Take a look: you might be surprised by what you find.

The Christian is constantly obliged to reiterate the claims of God, to reestablish this God-willed order, in presence of an order that constantly tends toward disorder. In consequence of the claims which God is always making on the world the Christian finds himself, by that very fact, involved in a state of permanent revolution.⁵

(1) Jacques Ellul, The Presence of the Kingdom, (Helmers & Howard, 1989), xxxiv
(2) Jacques Ellul, The Subversion of Christianity, (Eerdmans, 1986), 43
(3) Ibid., 44
(4) Jacques Ellul, The Presence of the Kingdom, xxxvi-xxxvii
(5) Ibid., 36-37

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The Battle and The Baggage

When you read the book of Acts, it's easy to get the impression that Christianity is all about aggressive evangelism and itinerant ministry, and this is true, in part. However, we need to recognize that the book of Acts describes the exploits of the most active 1% of Christians in the Early Church. The great majority of believers were simple, workaday people, quietly minding their own business, living as salt and light amongst their families, neighbors, and communities.

A lot of people (including, incidentally, Paul himself,) are fond of comparing Christianity to warfare, but what conscientious military commander would send his entire army into the heat of the battle with no reserves, no medical support, no communication relays, and no management infrastructure? Obviously, such a policy would be tactical suicide. We need a sounder strategy.

Many of you know I volunteer for Search & Rescue work with the local Sheriff's Office. My position is affectionately referred to as "Ground-pounder" - I'm a foot-searcher, and it's my job to get out there and do the looking. However, on a given search, the number of people who are actually out looking is usually smaller than the number of people who are working behind the scenes just to keep the operation running. There's radios to run, maps to print, meals to coordinate, and volunteers to transport, not to mention prioritizing the search and strategizing about the most effective allocation of resources. It's a lot of work.

It is plain that we need courageous soldiers on the frontlines, but it ought to be equally plain that there is much more to Christianity than merely the frontlines. The body has many members, and all members do not share the same function. What about the saints who stay behind and labor quietly in prayer or study to protect the faith from being ambushed in an ideological coup? What about the thousands of workaday believers who are living simply and consistently giving to and supporting the "real work" of God? Being an overseas missionary is wonderful, but the Christian who answers that call is in no sense more spiritual than the Christian who stays at home and faithfully goes about the specific work God has set before them.

In 1 Samuel 30, we have the story of David's men undergoing a mission to recover their kidnapped wives and children from the Amalekites. After hearing an affirmative from the Lord in regards to whether they should follow the raiders, they set out in hot pursuit. When they reach the brook Besor, 200 of David's 600 men are simply too exhausted to continue, so they stay behind. The other 400 continue on and successfully recover their wives and families - a bit frightened, perhaps, but alive and well.

When they return to the Besor, the 400 men who had gone with David argued that the men who had stayed behind should merely have their wives and children returned to them and have no share in the other loot. David disagreed.

“You shall not do so, my brothers, with what the Lord has given us. He has preserved us and given into our hand the band that came against us. Who would listen to you in this matter? For as his share is who goes down into the battle, so shall his share be who stays by the baggage. They shall share alike.”¹

I believe that we as a Church would do well to emulate this spirit of generosity and brotherhood. Some are called to fight on the frontlines, others to wait by the baggage. We're all brothers and sisters, and we must get over our carnal tendency to be constantly trying to outdo one another spiritually. (Mark 9:33-35, 2 Cor. 10:12)

Thomas Merton was a Trappist Monk who lived at the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky in the mid-1900's. He was deeply concerned about social justice and the effective diffusion of the Faith, but he also understood that this was not the whole story - that there is a very real place within the Church for behind-the-scenes service and active solitude.

Solitude has its own special work: a deepening of awareness that the world needs. A struggle against alienation. True solitude is deeply aware of the world's needs. It does not hold the world at arm's length.²

Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called (1 Cor. 7:20), and let us learn to recognize, respect, and enjoy the vastness and variety of the body. Onward Christian soldiers, and a resounding "Thank You" to the cooks, nurses, munitions suppliers, strategists, and loyal hardworking citizens that no one ever sees. None of this would be possible without you.

(1) 1 Samuel 30:23-24, ESV
(2) Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, (Doubleday, 1989), 19

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I Don't Want To Fight

But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another. -Galatians 5:15

Atoms collide and turn into thought / and Ideas explode and turn into hate / but love survives... (Brother Henry, Love Survives, "Love Survives")

A scenario that has been repeated many times during my life took place once again this morning at the young men's group that I attend weekly. I was in a conference room, surrounded by a half dozen bright, articulate, conservative Christian brothers, attempting to explain my rather controversial belief that Christians are not the guardians of social morality and Christianity is not about getting involved with or controlling politics.

The views I hold on this subject haven't changed substantially over the years, but the way I hold them has changed drastically. I enjoy thinking and talking about these things, but I have no desire to "prove my position," or denounce anyone for believing something different. I don't need to win the argument. That's no longer what it's about for me.

I don't mean this smugly, as if I could care less what anyone else thought. (I don't want to have the mentality that says: "You don't have to agree with me - you're free to be wrong.") I'm sure I still don't care about what others think as much as I should, but I think I'm learning to care more deeply than I have in the past. Instead of arguing with intellectual competitors about this or that issue, I'd rather be swapping stories with comrades about our experiences on the journey of faith. If you think this makes me a mushy postmodern jellyfish, I'm sorry. It's just that being a self-righteous maverick doesn't get you very far. In fact, it takes you backwards.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 8 that "knowledge" puffs up, while love builds up. We should ask ourselves whether our relationships are more like houses or hot air balloons. What materials and methods are we using - the strong timbers of love or the flimsy canvas of our own cleverness?

I can hear some murmurs starting, so let me pause and make one thing as clear as possible: walking in love does not mean that I don't take the truth seriously - it only means that I don't take my opinion of the truth so seriously. As Paul writes again,"If anyone imagines that he knows something, he does not yet know as he ought to know." (1 Cor. 8:2)

Francis Schaeffer was not one to shy away from serious, full-tilt intellectual discussion. He believed in thinking and he believed in truth. With that in mind, here's what he had to say about the way we hold and communicate our opinions:

Every time I see something right in another man, it tends to minimize me, and it makes it easier for me to have a proper creature-creature relationship. But each time I see something wrong in others, it is dangerous, for it can exalt self, and when this happens, my open fellowship with God falls to the ground. So when I am right, I can be wrong. In the midst of being right, if self is exalted, my fellowship with God can be destroyed. It is not wrong to be right, but it is wrong to have a wrong attitude in being right, and to forget that my relationship with my fellowmen must always be personal. If I really love a man as I love myself, I will long to see him be what he could be on the basis of Christ's work, for that is what I want or what I should want for myself on the basis of Christ's work. And if it is otherwise, not only is my communication with the man broken, but my communication with God as well. For this is sin, breaking the second commandment to love my neighbor as myself.¹

It is my prayer that the Lord would enable us to become a body at peace with itself, not needing to disparage other parts because of our own insecurities. There should be no exclusivity between communication and compromise, as long as we're willing to sacrifice our lust for vindication on the altar of love. Then, and only then, perhaps we can have some real relationship-based constructive dialogue, and that excites me a whole lot more than merely being right.

I don't want to be right anymore
I don't want to be good
I don't want to change your mind
To feel it like I do

-Derek Webb, The Ringing Bell, "I Don't Want To Fight"

(1) Francis Schaeffer, True Spirituality, (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House, 1971), 153

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C. S. Lewis on the Life of Language

It is idle to complain that words have more than one sense. Language is a living thing and words are bound to throw out new senses as a tree throws out new branches.

-Miracles, (HarperCollins, 2001), 279

If you have a vernacular liturgy you must have a changing liturgy: otherwise it will finally be vernacular only in name. The ideal of "timeless English" is sheer nonsense. No living language can be timeless. You might as well ask for a motionless river.

-Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, (Harcourt, 1992), 6

Of course language is not an infallible guide, but it contains, with all its defects, a good deal of stored insight and experience. If you begin by flouting it, it has a way of avenging itself later on. We had better not follow Humpty Dumpty in making words mean whatever we please.

-The Four Loves, (The Inspirational Writings of C. S. Lewis, (Inspirational Press: 1994), 213-214)

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