blind.

Once again, I’m feeling inspired to write. And once again, I don’t exactly know where this is going.

I guess I’ll start with describing a conversation I had with my friend over lunch.

Lately, my friends and I have been sitting on this grassy lawn during lunchtime. We spread out, lie down, and gaze up at the sky. This month, California weather has been treating us pretty well: the just-after-rain sky is the most spectacular shade of blue, and it always seems to spur on rather meaningful conversations.

So this last week, my friend asked me if I ever feel like I would’ve defended the cause of Jesus in the first century, or stood up for the abolition of slavery in the 1800s, or fought for civil rights in the 1960s. Her question caught me by surprise: on many occasions, I have found myself wondering these same things. And it wasn’t until that moment that I realized other people wonder the exact same thing!

To be honest, the more I’ve thought about the whole concept, the more I’ve realized how much “hindsight bias” impacts my answer to the question. Having learned about these movements and reaped the consequences and benefits of their outcomes, I’m sure we’d all hope to answer, “Yes! Of course I would’ve believed in the teachings of Jesus. I’d be crazy not to. Of course I would’ve supported abolition. It’s the right thing to do. Of course I would’ve fought for civil rights. Segregation is wrong.”

But as I’ve reflected deeper on this question, I get more worried that I might not have.

For although I have this part of me that is committed to social justice, there’s this other part that is stuck in the conventional, the traditional, the “right” way of doing life. And honestly, while radical Christian living is quite appealing (and a bit of what I’ve written about in previous posts), I feel like there’s a point at which I cut it off, a point where I might not believe things.

Seriously, if we look at some of the stuff Jesus says in the Gospels it’s crazy sauce (my AP US History teacher’s favorite expression). In my Pastoral Theology class at school, we’ve been memorizing the "Sermon on the Mount", and it hasn’t been until now that I have realized how truly revolutionary and controversial his words were (and still are). Take for instance, Matthew 6:14:

“For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”

Are you kidding? If we don’t forgive men, God isn’t going to forgive us? Wow. They certainly don’t teach kids that in Sunday school! No wonder people went nuts about what Jesus was preaching!

And with a record of saying things like that, I worry that, back in the day, I might have been one of the hypocrites, one of the Pharisees, one of those who shunned Jesus for being too counter-cultural, too crazy.

It's in realizing this that I get to wondering if there’s a movement going on right now that I’m missing out on: something or someone that I’m ignoring because they sound too crazy. What if I end up missing it? What if I become somewhat of a modern equivalent to a Pharisee or someone who was pro-slavery or someone who was pro-segregationist?

I don’t want to miss out on that movement. I don’t want to be blinded by my pre-conceived notions, or my prejudice, or my own judgment. And yet it’s so hard. In all societies, I think people are taught that "what’s right is right." And those who go against the grain, those who challenge or question the status quo are shunned or ignored.

But as we’ve seen with the three examples I’ve mentioned, it has turned out that these under-dog movements changed societies (and arguably, the world). And as we look back, the ones who were against those movements are now the crazy ones, the ones we frown upon.

Forty years from now, I don't want to be frowned upon.

Fort years from now, I don't want to realize that I missed out on an important movement because I have been stuck in the traditional, "right" way of doing life,

Forty years from now, I don't want to realize I've been blind.

(What do you think? Leave a comment, if you’d like!)

look up.

so i found this quote.

i used to have it on my Facebook profile.

but i've decided to post it here - in hopes that more will read it and contemplate its poignance. 

i think it's great.

it certainly challenges me to see beyond my often-trivial worries and anxieties and realize that something greater is coming, God is so near to us, and His kingdom's work is at hand.

so here's the epic quote by one of my heroes, dietrich bonhoeffer:

"look up you whose eyes are fixed on this earth,

you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth...

look up, your redemption is drawing near.

something different than you see daily, 

something more important,

something infinitely greater and more powerful

is taking place.

become aware of it,

be on guard,

wait a short while longer, 

wait and something new will overtake you!

God will come, 

Jesus will take possession of you,

and you will be redeemed people."

i've just got one question for you:

was anyone else utterly convicted when they read the line, "look up...you who are captivated by the events and changes on the surface of this earth"?

i feel like that's totally me. my time, my money, my life. they're all so oriented towards things on "the surface of this earth."

so how do we change that? how do we look up?

*i took the liberty of separating the quote into stanza-like segments for greater effect. please don't sue me...

life.

I've been thinking a lot about life lately.

Like what we're supposed to do here. How we're supposed to figure out our calling. How we're supposed to be God's hands and feet.

The more I think about it, the more I feel like our society's got things wrong.

I was at Barnes & Noble today, and I noticed this magnet that said "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." At first I didn't think much of it, but before I walked by, I read it again and it hit me. Really? Life is about creating ourselves? 

It seems a rather grim and trivial purpose: to create yourself.

This idea kind of reminds me of a recent message I heard from a speaker. During his sermon, this individual repeated over and over: "Make your name great." And like the magnet's little quote, I didn't think much of it until he said it for about the seventeenth time. And again, it hit me. Really? Life is about making our name great?

I know there's that whole "To each his own" philosophy. But honestly, I don't believe it - at least, not for this scenario. We do not exist to make our name great nor to create ourselves.

I'm just eighteen, and I'll admit, I'm not anywhere near figuring out what this life is about. But what I have figured out so far is that we are called to love God and to love his people. And I feel that in our society, we have lost sight of that primary calling. Few people sit down after their high school graduation, ready to consider their next step in life, and think, "Hm. What should I do now? How can I serve God and serve people with my life?"

That's not to say that no one does that, but I think, on the whole, few people do. Parents, teachers, and school administrators all encourage us to move on to higher learning, to gain wealth, to achieve success, and to become famous - because then we'll be happy, right? We seek to acquire material possessions rather than taking into consideration the greater reward that may come from "storing our treasures in heaven" rather than on earth. We put "making a name for ourselves" in front of bringing glory to God (because, let's be honest, loving God and loving people doesn't exactly rake in the money).

Lately, we've been reading essays written by famous authors in my English class. One in particular, by Annie Dillard, struck me. It's called "Living Like Weasels". The premise is a little odd: the author describes and recalls an observation of a weasel. But what she gleans from this rather silly, little animal is quite profound.

Yes, these creatures are long and skinny, but they are fierce. She mentions one instance in which a hunter shot an eagle, and found the skull of a weasel attached to its neck. The image is a little grotesque, but when you think about how it got there, more meaning develops: while being attacked by the eagle, the weasel most likely bit the eagle's jugular in an effort to fight him off. And despite the fact that the weasel was considerably smaller and bound to lose the fight, it held on. Tightly. It never let go. It died there. On the eagle's neck. Crazy, right? 

In abandoning life itself, Dillard seems to admire the weasel's carelessness. This living out of instinct. This living in the moment. This living for survival. This "choosing the given with a fierce and pointed will" (or as I like to think of it, embracing what you're handed as if you have chosen it).

In the end, Dillard uses the weasel analogy to hammer home her conviction that in life, "the thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse." We should abandon excess and seek after life itself. The very heart of it.

As I read the essay, I fell more and more in love with the idea of living simply and intentionally. I've never been one who's yearned for a life of luxury. To be completely honest, I'm a little tired of suburbia, of a life in comfort. Don't get me wrong: I appreciate it. I thank God every day for it. But part of me feels that there's an aspect of life that gets lost as you live knowing when your next meal will be. There's not a whole lot of wholly relying on God that goes on there. 

In this last year, I've realized that I want to live life on the edge. I know people say that all the time, but I really do. I don't want to have a high-paying job. I don't want to be successful. I want to be forced to trust in God's provision. To be in situations where all I can do is rely on God. It's a little scary saying that. But I think it's what I might need if I'm ever going to come close to catching even the slightest glimpse of who God really is.

I want to live like a weasel. With purpose and with passion. With less "premeditated" decisions and with more reckless abandon. With a "fierce and pointed will". Seeking life, life to the fullest. Seeking God, the real God. Loving others. Loving God. And most of all, working to make his name great - not mine.