Brake.

I'm making plans to waste my life on You.
"Breaking Down," John Mark McMillan

The above is currently one of my favorite lyrics. I like to listen to that song as soon as I get up to start my blood pumping and my heart beating toward eternity. There's not enough dignity to keep me away from You.

Recently, however, there has been a change in morning routine, one than I agonize over and lament and abhor. It brings me such grief because I know the cause: Christmas.

Christmas is an incredible season, as illustrated by the fact that my mother sent me candied almonds by post. I am munching the nuts happily (or merrily, as the case may be) as I type this entry. Even better, advent and the observation of the Incarnation bring the person of Jesus to the forefront of countless minds. There's a spring to the steps of the mobs of shoppers; exiting the grocery store, one is followed by cries of, "Merry Christmas!"

Living in this culture--the internship, accountability, discipleship culture--adds another dynamic to the season: Christmas break. Christmas break in theFurnace is different from Christmas break in school. In school, break is a welcome respite from intellectual overload and the bearing of burdensome packs, a time to reflect and celebrate, to see loved ones and rejoice in the great Lover. In theFurnace, break can easily become the altar on which we sacrifice momentum and discipline to engage in revelry.

After a whirlwind of prayer meetings, hours in the prayer room, and weekly accountability meetings, we find ourselves suddenly--if temporarily--stranded to navigate the spiritual waters on our own. The people we are paying to hold us to our daily commitments are out of town drinking eggnog, and we are left to ourselves. Too often, we disappoint.

I experienced roughly a month of sleeplessness and illness that only just ended before break began. In the week since sesmester's end, I have been dogged by an instinct I rarely face: to sleep and sleep and sleep. I crash for hours as my body attempts to recover from the strain it has been through of late, and when I awake, I power through the tasks I need to accomplish, only to crash once again.

God times have been sparse.

It dawned on me today, "I am setting myself up to go to my first accountability of the year and say, in typical fashion, 'I didn't do well on break.'"

That is unacceptable. Am I not on break to remember the massive King who chose inexpressable humility that I might know Him? He is worth more than this.

Though my holidays are sure to include cups of cocoa, snow angels (if this bipolar city sees any precipitation), and the consumption of many more candied almonds, I am still on mission. The call still stands. "Draw near to God."

How will you stay steady through the break?

Simple

I really enjoy God.

Is that a rather elementary statement to make? Perhaps.

He is just so delightful. It makes me so happy to see the way He is constantly interweaving the motions and conversations of life to communicate a larger point. It's great.

Everything that has been occurring in my sphere of late, all my paradigms that have been challenged, and every conversation I have held--the sum of my life is pointed toward the anxious need for maturity.

This begins in my day-to-day existence. I am experiencing what I can only articulate as a fundamental longing to be good. This "good" of which I speak is not simply a lack of outrageously wrong behaviour or thought. I want contribute to the rushing flow of time into which I am so often swept unaware. I want to be good.

This, for a time, concerned me. Is this desire basic self-interest? But no, He says. Goodness is one of My fruits. Kindness. Gentleness. Those are Mine.

And so I am slowly beginning to engage the messy process of straining forward as a person. I am learning to let the dead things and the rotten things be expelled from my flesh. It is not a pleasant process: For the sourness to be pushed out of me, it will necessarily be exposed both to myself and to those around me. I am wearied by the depth of my seemingly endless depravity. However, I perceive the life that is being breathed into my soul, though all I may feel in my body is the weightiness of my filth.

As these transformations and challenges are occuring at my foundations, I find that this movement is happening all around me. Tonight, I listened to my dear friends' exasperation at their own toleration of carnal things. I heard an urgency for abandonment in their words. This thing is living and dynamic.

I watched a friend's eyes fill with tears as she lamented the inactivity of the Church on behalf of the orphans in the world. "Our churches are filled with people who are perfectly capable of providing for a child," she said. "Why don't they? They go buy a new TV or computer instead. Why?"

These heart cries are not isolated. Together, they form the picture of the very activity of God. Romans 8:22 tells us that creation literally groans in waiting for the revelation of the Son of God. Revelation 19:7-8 exposes what will be necessary for this longing to be fulfilled: the Bride of Christ, His Church, must prepare Herself for His return. How will She do this? She must clothe herself in acts of righteousness, being found in linens spotless and bright.

This is the drive of the Spirit for the Church today. She must cease to be a child, gratifying her addiction to entertainment and her ties to materialism, and she must mature into responsibility for the world for which Christ longs to return.

Why, do you think, is the Church heralding the need to care for widows, orphans, and the poor? It is not because She is joining some social motion. No, the secular world is following the activity God is desperate to accomplish through His people. We are being driven to responsibility on this planet that we might be made a Bride ready for His coming.

What I realize is this: He is asking us to be simple people. People unconcerned with appearances and possessions, status and power, fame and prowess. People who don't particularly care about how they look or how they compare to the socially established standard. People who, instead, care deeply about caring for the well-being of the exploited. Who go without so that others may be provided for in the flesh and, having been sustained in physical life, may be presented with hope for eternity. Who are on mission at every moment, desperate to see the kingdom come on Earth as it is in heaven that the King might return. Basic, unpretentious, satisfied, simple people.

There that is.

This is the question I want to ask of every human being on the planet.

Well, one of them. Of course, I'd like to know their favourite thing about Jesus, and the story of what He has done in them, and lots of other glorious tales as well. But once all those things are settled, I am itching to ask one thing:

What are the five books you would recommend I read before I die? (And, why?)

So, do tell!


(An aside: As deeply as I appreciate your wittiness, let me clarify that I already have read and continue to read the Bible. It's as necessary as water. So, after the Bible, what are your top five literary pleasures?)

Sophisticates

“Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of wickedness,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover him,
and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?
Then shall your light break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up speedily;
your righteousness shall go before you;
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’
If you take away the yoke from your midst,
the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
if you pour yourself out for the hungry
and satisfy the desire of the afflicted,
then shall your light rise in the darkness
and your gloom be as the noonday.
And the Lord will guide you continually
and satisfy your desire in scorched places
and make your bones strong;
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water,
whose waters do not fail.
And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to dwell in."
Isaiah 58:6-12

This morning, I drove to Panera Bread to meet an incredible woman of God for some coffee (or, to be true, tea) and conversation. I followed a steady line of cars into a shopping complex and watched people routinely pull into the parking lots of Panera and Starbucks, many of them inevitably here to order "their drinks" as they do every day before returning to their shiny cars and driving off to their careers.

I have a hard time with suburbia. There is such an air of presumed sophistication present here. And I am not referring to Briargate specifically. I am speaking more generally of an attitude that prevails in our society. Look at our nice vehicles: they are shiny and modern, and the payment we are obligated to make on it every month is well worth the status we associate with it. Look at our $4 coffees in recycled cardboard cups; our perfectly placed, chemically coloured hair; our laptops and SmartPhones. How sophisticated we are!

I am not condemning cars, coffee, or laptops (I am typing this on my year-old MacBook Pro). But I do feel that we tend to glorify and idolize our advancement, as if technology and the marketplace are the standards by which we measure the sophistication we value so highly. SUV+latte+iPhone=sophistication?

Hardly. What if we shifted our thinking to believe that the truly sophisticated thing is compassion? That our advancement is in the growth of our love? That the number of people we have genuinely helped is more important than the figure in our bank account?

Ultimately, who cares about the rest of the mess? Is eternity concerned with your social status or fashion or ability to acquire? There is nothing spectacular about buying and owning and storing. What is unique and beautiful is to give and aid and sacrifice. Eternity is looking for what Brennan Manning in the book The Furious Longing of God called "a community of prophets and professional lovers."

Please, be sophisticated. Be so advanced in love that it is a remarkable gift to a dying world. Cultivate such a rich compassion that souls are redeemed by the display of God's kindness you live before the hopeless. Develop a disregard for the trivialities and trappings.

Stuff

I just watched "The Story of Stuff."

I think I need to rethink the way I consume.

I've grown up around arguments against any redefinition of consumption my whole life. Such changes have always been associated with a radical leftist view that, in the context of my developmental years, was necessarily anti-God. If you're challenging the economic system and pushing for "zero carbon footprint" and "sustainability," you are a Godless liberal. So, essentially, the thinking went.

I am beginning to think differently.

Slowly, it is becoming clear how deeply rooted our western preoccupation with materials is even in the people of the Church. It really is an addiction, and it is disgusting. It's poison.

For example, I was having a discussion recently with some friends about people who move to America and don't learn our language. These friends are amazing and have beautiful hearts for God. But as we discussed whether or not immigrants should be required to learn English upon their entry to America, the heart of the matter was exposed: unrecognized materialism.

The question I posed was this: "If we view ourselves primarily not as Americans trying to function in an American, English-speaking society, but as citizens of heaven with a message of hope for people of every tribe, nation, and tongue, should we not attempt to learn their language first?"

(We discussed this at length and unpacked arguments for both sides. If you wish to engage this topic with me, I would love to talk about it.)

The discussion carried on for a substantial amount of time, and when we reached the end, the final example given by my dear friend was this: "I agree we should be reaching out to these people with the gospel. But when I am working at a grocery store, and someone comes in speaking Spanish, and I can't understand them, it keeps me from doing my job."

That was when I realized, Oh, my goodness. That's it. The problem is consumerism. We want people to know our language so we can keep the flow of the economy.

And this isn't just my friend, one person, who has some shocking mindset. That is the mindset I have heard all my life. It's not that she is a bad person possessing an unusual degree of selfishness. This is the way most of us are.

How did this get into our hearts? my heart?

Now I am seeing this consumer mentality everywhere. And I am seeing that is not an issue of right or left. In fact, I am seeing that left and right may just be two different words for "wrong."

I am reading Dallas Willard's The Divine Conspiracy, in which the author unpacks a substantial explanation of the "gospels" of both the right and left as unsound gospels focused on sin-management. Of the right, he says, "Being let off the divine hook replaces possession of a divine life 'from above.'" Alternatively: "This is the gospel of the current Christian left: Love comes out on top."
(I don't have time to explain these in full, but I highly suggest you read the book if you are interested in understanding both fatal flaws.)

What I have begun to see in the general mindset of the people of God I have known is a certain measure of identity which is found in possessions.

"The system of production is flawed," one says. "People are losing resources and living in poverty and we are polluting our surroundings and ourselves."

"That's all social gospel" is the response. And so our right to continue buying more than we need and wasting perfectly functional, if aesthetically obsolete, resources is protected because we are unaffected by any state of well-being outside of our own.

But my primary concern here is not even whatever level of natural resources we may or may not have consumed, or the effect that is having on local economies where our production occurs, or how full national landfills are or are not (though I think that each of these issues possesses a level of importance). My first concern is that it appears we have God further from the throne of our hearts than we might admit or even perceive. The issue is that where our treasure is our heart is as well.

In other words, why don't we care?

Do we dismiss movements for green living, sustainability, and fair trade because we have a just argument against the way these causes are conducted? Or is it because we draw a certain amount of our identity from how much, how big, how often?

If we were free from materialism, as we so often pray and profess to be, would it not be of great importance to us that workers receive fair pay and that the production of American goods across the globe does not negatively impact the people and environments involved in that production? And from what I can see, these things largely do not concern us as we sit in our right-leaning, evangelistic perch.

I am not attacking the American church or the people that compose her. How could I claim to love the Man and not also love His Bride?

What I am asking, mostly of myself, is this:
Why is it so important to me to purchase new clothing?
Why don't I cultivate more of my own food? Because I am unable? If so, why am I not careful to ensure the food I buy is produced in a manner that is not harmful to those actually doing the work?
Why do I replace things that I already have?

Or, to put it succinctly, do I live like He is my portion?

Questions that need to be answered.

One thing I have asked from the LORD, that I shall seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life,
To behold the beauty of the LORD
And to meditate in His temple.
Ps. 27:4

Or have I?

Vision

"Where there is no vision, the people perish..."
Prov. 29:18

I hopped onto the BBC website this morning to see what the world is up to and came across this article.

Keir Starmer QC, the director of public prosecutions, was forced to publish the guidance after a long-running legal fight by Debbie Purdy, a multiple sclerosis sufferer from Bradford.

In July, Law Lords ruled she had the right to know under what circumstances her husband would be prosecuted if he helped her travel abroad to die.

I can't imagine the agony of Heaven at a woman so eager to end her life.

It is easy to delve into the politics of assisted suicide, but the fact is that the argument between sanctity of life and one's purported right to his own life is a messy one and one that is often too personal to be had objectively. I am not going to presume to defend one view or another. What I am wondering is, How heartbreaking must our hopelessness be to the Father?

How little revelation people must possess of God's unfailing, ravishing love to have so little hope for life. How muffled the message of grace and the call to discipleship must be that the ears of those who need to hear it most are deaf to it. How blind to the light of Christ the world is; without vision, the people are perishing. Death has so pervaded their souls that it is coming out from their inner man to destroy their very selves.

And I wonder if perhaps we as the Church are inclined to take the wrong action in response to such a culture of death. While we lobby in hearings and petition against the passing of laws--unquestionably with good intentions--are we failing to communicate the hope that might compel the individual to choose life for himself? It is undoubtedly valuable for us to fight for the principles we believe in, but are we so busy screeching over the principle that we neglect the person? Is our vocal opposition a convenient alternative to personal action?

I do not think for a second that any government ruling or law that allows for the destruction of precious life pleases God. But then again, I don't see Jesus overthrowing Rome to pass a law against adultery. I see Him stepping between the unfaithful woman and the self-righteous mob, empowering the one who is so lost with the grace and purpose to "go and sin no more."

Perhaps our responsibility is first to bring vision. Perhaps we are to walk alongside Jesus to the castaways and the uncertain and echo His call to "follow Me." Perhaps our primary concern is to be taking to the streets, walking into hospital rooms, and sitting down in shelters to speak weak words to frail people, desperate to see their hearts come alive. Perhaps I should be more concerned with carrying Christ than condemning sinners. No one without hope needs to be reminded of their hopelessness. They need to be given something for which they can hope.

But these are all thoughts and questions I ask of my own life. Where do I speak much and do little? Where do I hide (often self-righteously) behind principle and avoid the act of loving my neighbor? Where is the one whose behavior I easily condemn but whose heart I am reluctant to heal? God forgive me.