I just finished reading Wild At Heart and am mostly through Captivating. I like the messages of each of these books - that God has designed men and women differently but complimentary so that the happiness of one is also the happiness of the other.
These books both also talk about adventure as a built-in desire of our humanity. Wild At Heart talks about a lot about adventures outdoors, climbing sheer cliff faces, facing bears, doing dangerous things. This desire for adventure is true at least for me and would appear to be true for many more like me based on the popularity of adventure movies, epic sagas, etc.
I believe the author at one point said that some men even turn to stock trading, marketed as "adventures in capitalism" as a substitute for real adventure. I don't know remember if he made this point or not, but all adventures are substitutes for the real adventure. Traveling to exotic lands, leaping headfirst from skyscraper sized cliffs, fighting bears, international intrigue, battlefield combat - these things are all exciting to varying levels but none of them are truly adventurous. The excitement and adrenaline wear off after a while like the high of a drug. All of these are just substitutes for the only true adventure that could ever fully captivate the heart: the pursuit of God. For one man, this pursuit will lead him to distant lands and for another to corporate offices. I trust though that this is true: that the man who follows God on his couch is more adventurous than the man who has his own adventures apart from God.
The trouble is that it is easy to use God as an excuse to remain comfortable. It is easy to remain somewhere safe and say it is because God called you to the sacrifice of safety when in reality you fear the dangerous. And it is easy to live a life of so-called adventure and say it is because you are following God when in reality you fear the greater danger of becoming a tame man. I've often asked "what do you what me to do God?" and I wonder if He often has not answered because I am too afraid of what the answer may be.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Fellowship in Suffering
Have you ever met someone that you just "clicked" with? Someone whom you felt you could talk with, or just listen to, for hours on end? These people strike some chord in our hearts such that we feel an immediate connection and relation. I've found that in my life, these people share some common interest, passion or way of thinking that is very similar to my own yet made distinct by their own unique life experiences and challenges. The cake of deep intimate fellowship is formed from similitude and it is made sweet by the icing of differences, not the other way around.
God calls us into fellowship with His Son. There are many ways by which to pursue fellowship with God: prayer, fasting, study, obedience, etc. These are disciplines by which to nourish the connection to the divine so that we might, at a heart level, be transformed by the renewing of our mind to conform to the image of Christ. This likeness is the heart of fellowship, but there is something to be said for likeness of experience as a well. After all, a true likeness in heart should ultimately produce similar experiences.
The apostles talk of sharing in the sufferings of Christ. When you've been abandoned by your friends, lost worldly possessions and status, been wrongly accused and hated, beaten down and mocked, betrayed with kisses and abused, when justice turns away from you, it can be very hard to see God through the disaster. The darkness into which you have been thrust can be very dark indeed and even the very sense of the presence of God can be like the sun which moves behind the clouds. There is nothing left then but to sit among the ashes and mourn.
Then something very surprising happens. You look over and you see Jesus sitting beside you among the ashes. It should not be surprising, after all where else would Jesus be? The profound sense of kinship that floods into the heart cannot be expressed by words. It is the overflow of joy that transformed Job's pain into worship.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna, the avatar of the Supreme Being in the Hindu mythos, claims that that the greatest of his worshipers are not the suffering but the wise. Christ, by contrast, seems to extend a special brotherhood to those who suffer for his sake, or perhaps he makes no distinction at all between the faithfully suffering and the wise. As G.K. Chesterton notes, it is revealing to mediate on the differences between the way Christ is portrayed by Christians versus the way other gods are portrayed, especially the Eastern ones. Those gods are well-fed, smiling, content, and serene with closed eyes. Christ is fully revealed on the cross in his greatest moment and finest hour. He is thin and bloody with a sad and tortured expression in his face and his eyes are wide open fixed on the prize. What a sublime paradox that the greatest joy is found not in following the serene gods but in joining the tortured one on His cross.
God calls us into fellowship with His Son. There are many ways by which to pursue fellowship with God: prayer, fasting, study, obedience, etc. These are disciplines by which to nourish the connection to the divine so that we might, at a heart level, be transformed by the renewing of our mind to conform to the image of Christ. This likeness is the heart of fellowship, but there is something to be said for likeness of experience as a well. After all, a true likeness in heart should ultimately produce similar experiences.
The apostles talk of sharing in the sufferings of Christ. When you've been abandoned by your friends, lost worldly possessions and status, been wrongly accused and hated, beaten down and mocked, betrayed with kisses and abused, when justice turns away from you, it can be very hard to see God through the disaster. The darkness into which you have been thrust can be very dark indeed and even the very sense of the presence of God can be like the sun which moves behind the clouds. There is nothing left then but to sit among the ashes and mourn.
Then something very surprising happens. You look over and you see Jesus sitting beside you among the ashes. It should not be surprising, after all where else would Jesus be? The profound sense of kinship that floods into the heart cannot be expressed by words. It is the overflow of joy that transformed Job's pain into worship.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna, the avatar of the Supreme Being in the Hindu mythos, claims that that the greatest of his worshipers are not the suffering but the wise. Christ, by contrast, seems to extend a special brotherhood to those who suffer for his sake, or perhaps he makes no distinction at all between the faithfully suffering and the wise. As G.K. Chesterton notes, it is revealing to mediate on the differences between the way Christ is portrayed by Christians versus the way other gods are portrayed, especially the Eastern ones. Those gods are well-fed, smiling, content, and serene with closed eyes. Christ is fully revealed on the cross in his greatest moment and finest hour. He is thin and bloody with a sad and tortured expression in his face and his eyes are wide open fixed on the prize. What a sublime paradox that the greatest joy is found not in following the serene gods but in joining the tortured one on His cross.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
