I remember thinking sometime in March
that I wanted to try living a more
pure life. I felt like everything
was just a little bit...
tainted.
I thought at the time that when I came out to
Thailand, things would be different,
that I would be different.
That I would be
pure.
I want to make it clear that I did
not
come to Thailand solely because I wanted to live a pure life.
I came for a lot of reasons.
Purity of heart was just one.
Turns out things are far more complicated
I am
far more complicated than I had originally thought.
If I have learned anything in
this first month it is
that I am very
very
small.
lek lek
That's Thai
for very small.
I guess I learned that too.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
A Note on Hubris
I am exceedingly proud. (No, that isn't the right word.) I am exceedingly prideful. (There, that's better.) Let me tell you why.
Earlier this week, I was talking with my boss about what exactly is expected of me during my six months here. One of the things he listed was listening to at least one sermon a day. A part of me recoiled at that idea. Listening to sermons? Only super-Christians and dickwads listen to sermons. Only the people who are completely detached from the real world and consumed with their chosen doctrine (usually hard line Calvinism) listen to sermons. People like me listen to mewithoutyou and Frightened Rabbit. People like me listen to This American Life podcasts, and Wiretap. People like me don't listen to sermons, we're too real for that.
Not wanting to offend my boss, I tentatively agreed to his silly requirement. I admited that I didn't really know where to start, seeing as Mark Driscol is the only podcasting preacher I can think of. He gave me a list.
Upon receiving this list, I already knew that the bottom two were definite no-goes. Joshua Harris wrote I Kissed Dating Goodbye, the single most emotionally destructive book I have ever seen (with the Twilight series as a close second). What the fuck does the guy who wrote the book that is most often employed by evangelical Christian parents to get their daughters to dump their loser boyfriends, think he has to say to me? As for John Piper, his name usually comes up when a Mars Hillian is explaining to me why my doctrine is wrong. He is the most effective tool of my spiritual frenemy, the Calvinist. Therefore, he is also my frenemy and is to be avoided and begrudgingly respected.
As a sign that I was open to whatever God had for me to hear, I downloaded one episode from each of the 5 podcasts that my boss directed me toward. That night, I listened to each of them in the comfort of my room. And, I have to say, God backhanded me good.
Of the five sermons I listened to that night, the two that caught my attention most, the two that got me really thinking, were the ones by Joshua Harris and John Piper. I felt like a statue of Saddam Hussein circa 2003. I felt silly and immature. I felt humbled.
Although I may not agree with these two men on the totality of their theology, they love Christ and want to serve him. They also feel a burden to preach the gospel and teach the body of Christ. I cannot listen to these sermons and not hear the guidance and inspiration of the Holy Spirit in their words.
My flavor of hubris seems to think that I've got everything all figured out. I know how the world works. I know who the good guys are, and I know who the bad guys are. I may constantly be spouting platitudes about how complicated the world is, but I implicitly believe that by saying these things I have a clearer perspective than every body else. "The world is way more complicated that you could every understand, but I have a chance."
This hubris is not self-contained. By nature it can't be. This kind of hubris comes from the encouragement of a supportive community of prideful compatriots. Using my 20/20 hindsight, I can see many times where my peers, my friends, and I sat around and reinforced our intellectual and spiritual superiority over the drooling masses that read I Kissed Dating Goodbye and listen to sermons by John Piper. We gathered together and with our haughty babel constructed a tower of Babel of our own understanding that would reach up to heaven.
The Lord has confused my words. He has brought me face to face with the reality of these men and their ideas. Strangely enough, they hardly resemble the straw-men that I made with my peers. I do not see them as the final boss battle in the game of theological debate. Rather, I see them as teachers who have much to say to a young and ill-defined man like me.
A man who doesn't exist once told me that maturity is mastering the basics. I believe that one of the basics is humility. There is no such thing as a great man. There is no person who, by their own power and design, can tower above the rest of humanity in mental acuity and right thinking. I thought I was that person. I wanted to be that person. But, now I desire instead to be small. I want to be teachable. I want to be open to the word of God from the mouth of babes, old men, Calvinists, and fundamentalists. I reject my tower of babel, and desire instead to chase God.
I know that one day I will return to the tower and rebuild some of it. It is the nature of a fool to return to his folly like a dog to his vomit, and I am most assuredly a fool. But, I pray that by the grace of God, I will remain humble for a while yet, and that when I revert, it will not be for long.
Earlier this week, I was talking with my boss about what exactly is expected of me during my six months here. One of the things he listed was listening to at least one sermon a day. A part of me recoiled at that idea. Listening to sermons? Only super-Christians and dickwads listen to sermons. Only the people who are completely detached from the real world and consumed with their chosen doctrine (usually hard line Calvinism) listen to sermons. People like me listen to mewithoutyou and Frightened Rabbit. People like me listen to This American Life podcasts, and Wiretap. People like me don't listen to sermons, we're too real for that.
Not wanting to offend my boss, I tentatively agreed to his silly requirement. I admited that I didn't really know where to start, seeing as Mark Driscol is the only podcasting preacher I can think of. He gave me a list.
Upon receiving this list, I already knew that the bottom two were definite no-goes. Joshua Harris wrote I Kissed Dating Goodbye, the single most emotionally destructive book I have ever seen (with the Twilight series as a close second). What the fuck does the guy who wrote the book that is most often employed by evangelical Christian parents to get their daughters to dump their loser boyfriends, think he has to say to me? As for John Piper, his name usually comes up when a Mars Hillian is explaining to me why my doctrine is wrong. He is the most effective tool of my spiritual frenemy, the Calvinist. Therefore, he is also my frenemy and is to be avoided and begrudgingly respected.
As a sign that I was open to whatever God had for me to hear, I downloaded one episode from each of the 5 podcasts that my boss directed me toward. That night, I listened to each of them in the comfort of my room. And, I have to say, God backhanded me good.
Of the five sermons I listened to that night, the two that caught my attention most, the two that got me really thinking, were the ones by Joshua Harris and John Piper. I felt like a statue of Saddam Hussein circa 2003. I felt silly and immature. I felt humbled.
Although I may not agree with these two men on the totality of their theology, they love Christ and want to serve him. They also feel a burden to preach the gospel and teach the body of Christ. I cannot listen to these sermons and not hear the guidance and inspiration of the Holy Spirit in their words.
My flavor of hubris seems to think that I've got everything all figured out. I know how the world works. I know who the good guys are, and I know who the bad guys are. I may constantly be spouting platitudes about how complicated the world is, but I implicitly believe that by saying these things I have a clearer perspective than every body else. "The world is way more complicated that you could every understand, but I have a chance."
This hubris is not self-contained. By nature it can't be. This kind of hubris comes from the encouragement of a supportive community of prideful compatriots. Using my 20/20 hindsight, I can see many times where my peers, my friends, and I sat around and reinforced our intellectual and spiritual superiority over the drooling masses that read I Kissed Dating Goodbye and listen to sermons by John Piper. We gathered together and with our haughty babel constructed a tower of Babel of our own understanding that would reach up to heaven.
The Lord has confused my words. He has brought me face to face with the reality of these men and their ideas. Strangely enough, they hardly resemble the straw-men that I made with my peers. I do not see them as the final boss battle in the game of theological debate. Rather, I see them as teachers who have much to say to a young and ill-defined man like me.
A man who doesn't exist once told me that maturity is mastering the basics. I believe that one of the basics is humility. There is no such thing as a great man. There is no person who, by their own power and design, can tower above the rest of humanity in mental acuity and right thinking. I thought I was that person. I wanted to be that person. But, now I desire instead to be small. I want to be teachable. I want to be open to the word of God from the mouth of babes, old men, Calvinists, and fundamentalists. I reject my tower of babel, and desire instead to chase God.
I know that one day I will return to the tower and rebuild some of it. It is the nature of a fool to return to his folly like a dog to his vomit, and I am most assuredly a fool. But, I pray that by the grace of God, I will remain humble for a while yet, and that when I revert, it will not be for long.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Share My Balcony
I stood on my balcony today. I was reading through the sunset, and when I noticed the light begin to fade so that I ought to go inside, I stood up and saw.
I stood for a moment in awe of this incredible watercolor of a sunset. I just bathed in it, seeing it as simple beauty that didn't need to be interpreted or understood to be appreciated.
As I stood there, a sudden urge came over me to share this beautiful thing with someone. I wished that there were someone next to me on my temporary balcony, someone who I could turn to, cock my head west and say, "look at that, huh?"
I do not like being alone, and I have an irrational fear of spending the rest of my life alone. Sometimes I feel crippled by this fear, and I could feel it rising again. But, instead of succumbing to the numb embrace of phobic loneliness, I decided to go inside and grab my camera.
I took these three pictures so that I could share them with you. They aren't as nice as the real thing, just as writing this post hasn't been as nice as if we shared my balcony. But, they are something. They are something simple and beautiful. They are something that must be shared with friends.
I stood for a moment in awe of this incredible watercolor of a sunset. I just bathed in it, seeing it as simple beauty that didn't need to be interpreted or understood to be appreciated.
As I stood there, a sudden urge came over me to share this beautiful thing with someone. I wished that there were someone next to me on my temporary balcony, someone who I could turn to, cock my head west and say, "look at that, huh?"
I do not like being alone, and I have an irrational fear of spending the rest of my life alone. Sometimes I feel crippled by this fear, and I could feel it rising again. But, instead of succumbing to the numb embrace of phobic loneliness, I decided to go inside and grab my camera.
I took these three pictures so that I could share them with you. They aren't as nice as the real thing, just as writing this post hasn't been as nice as if we shared my balcony. But, they are something. They are something simple and beautiful. They are something that must be shared with friends.
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