Creating Community

Most of the posts written here start with some sort of general concept, applicable to the masses and not just a singular person complaining. They end (or is the intent) with the paring down of thoughts to how it applies to the writer, to me. This won’t be one of those posts.

I have struggled a lot recently with a cavernous gap between my head and my heart. I feel smart enough to operate as if all is as it should be, running strictly from my head and not my heart. This has made it difficult to write as I fail to tap into whatever my heart is saying, feeling, etc. I’ve done a decent job of blocking it, unfortunately.

As is the case with all things, Churches vary from location to location on more than just theology (or even religious sect). Each church decides how they feel the message resonates with their own lives and how they can put a huge megaphone on that message to spread the word.

I am a part of a church that I feel is doing things right. That is to say, I am standing behind our motivation for actions and the things we’re doing whole heartedly. This is partly because our action oriented, serving community seems to be very close in rhythm to my heart and other churches in the area just…aren’t doing it for me.

I could dedicate entire writing sessions to how I feel other churches are doing “it” wrong. I may even find myself some nice, pretty, easy to fit biblical references that prove my point (regardless of context…which seems to be how it’s done in the modern Christian world). What are my complaints really gaining, though? If even a little effort is focused on criticizing or comparing my church home to other churches I’m giving up ground. If only it’s to give myself a comparative measure to see that we’re doing something right, we’ve lost sight and ground is lost. Even more, who am I to tell someone else how they should feel? What if that sect, style, or service flow resonates with someone else and really works for them. Why stop myself from feeling their joy in finding their church home to criticize that it isn’t the same as mine?

Andy Crouch has a book called Culture Making. In his book, he does a pretty fair job of using far too many words to describe really great thoughts.

I am in a lot of conversations about the “Church” and about how some are comparing one against the other and how we feel we are doing it better or worse or just plain different from each other. Crouch calls me out on the carpet with this book. His point, argued well, is that culture is a part of absolutely everything we do, whether we like it or not. This leaves us with 5 choices:

1. Condemn culture
2. Critique culture
3. Copy culture
4. Consume culture
5. Cultivate

There exists a heavy weight on knowing one’s place. This is where teenagers, struggle, isn’t it? Everything is changing, things are getting crazy, and you’re in a social network of people trying to find where they fit in, where they’re meant to be, what sort of things they’ll do. The first identity search of our lives. You find the people you are with, the places you go, and the things you do depending on this search.

Although it can morph and change, sometimes even drastically, a lot of the foundational stuff that dictates where your identity is found stays the same. Music people will always identify themselves by their love for the song. Math people identify themselves by the systematic, applicable, reproducible problem solving. How do we identify ourselves spiritually? Spiritual identity takes on a whole new challenge, does it not?

This crux of identity searching is where I find myself. It is post-teen identity battle. Not knowing exactly where I am in all of this, or where He’s taking me. It’s frustrating to feel a sense of silence about it and I fall to my own struggles because I don’t know where I am supposed to be. The epitome of spiritual adolescence. It makes it difficult to act as Him being my Lord when I feel a stunning sense of silence. I feel like doing what I’m doing is the right thing, but am unsure where to take it from here. This fuels the screeching halt.

The act of sitting down and deliberately writing out your thoughts, prayers, struggles, etc has probably been tested by folks much smarter than myself to prove that it’s therapeutic. Writing something down gives it some sort of weight, some accountability (personal or otherwise) or at least something that if anything, you can put a check next to, cross off, or throw away when completed.

Remember that cool scene in Indiana Jones where Indy puts the log in the Nazi’s motorcycle tire, effectively tossing the Nazi-in-pursuit off his ride, coming to a screeching, rolling halt?

The metaphorical log has been shoved into the spokes of my mind, throwing me to a screeching halt. For one reason or another, I am unable to get my mind moving at even a fraction of the pace I was once running at. Is this a factor of the size of my proverbial box? I have pushed out of one box. I am more aware of my surroundings. This box is much larger, more complex, takes some more understanding. There are paintings on the walls, weird angles in the cardboard, and interesting feelings to the walls I’ve touched. Suddenly I feel less effective/able to influence what was in near proximity because the new rules and “how things work” of my new box dwarf the pace I was once racing at in my smaller, more simple box. Simple isn’t always better, though…

Is it better to move at a relative slow pace in a more effective world than move quickly in an easily influenceable world? Note that the influenceable world may or may not have the capacity for effectiveness.

I feel like I could write a novel, and I just did, but whatever. In the spirit of using this as a place to puke all the things I’m thinking about…read on. tread lightly. no need to keep your boots at the door cuz there’s enough dirt in this house to make your boots crystal balls.

first…statements that border blasphemy (a good topic, i know). Here’s the statement: I want to be done thanking God for the help He’s providing. Here’s my thoughts. A good friend said tonight in a discussion we were having that the Matrix is a fantastic representation of the difference between your mindsets of being with God, and being without. When you’re with God, you are out of this world. You’re at a whole different level of perception/understanding/whatever. I can’t say I’m 100% with God because I screw up, so intrinsically, I am apart from God. I am trying my hardest to act as if, though. One scene my friend mentioned was that scene where Neo stops the bullets from hitting him. The agents are all chapped that he’s more powerful than he is, so they start shooting at him in the hallway. He just looks up, says no, and the agents fire, he puts up his hand. The bullets drop. A cool scene. We were saying how that’s like when God steps in and protects us, so a thanking is necessary. 

God “stepping in” implies that he was gone. That for whatever inexplicable reason, he decided to swoop in and play the “save the moment” card and we were protected. Aren’t we always protected? Isn’t he always there? I want to stop thanking God because I want my perception, my attitude, to be that He is always with me and that it isn’t that He’s decided to save me this time, but that as I look through the wall of what the world is threatening with, He’s saving me every time. My thanks are due to his love, his grace, his one desire for me to return the love as best I know how. Even the attempt elates Him, so I can screw up (and will) all kinds of times. But I’m frickin tryin…so Thanks be to his love, thanks be to his glory, and thanks be to his protection not just this time, but every time.

Alright, so I’m a smoker. That’s a fun one to spell out. I have smoked for a while, probably like 6 or 7 years.  I quit for the entire time I was dating this woman, a relationship I did a stellar job of screwing up like nobodies business (still working on that hole…). My parents don’t know I smoke, which also, is awkward and strange.

I was thinking about all this and taking a step back trying to figure out what it was about it that I find appealing. When I quit, I was smoking a pack a day and quit cold turkey without, not even a joke, any issues. It was just a “I’m done.” thing. In taking a step back, here’s the trend I see in myself.

When I started smoking, I was trying pretty desperately to find a spot for myself. Figure out where I was in life and what I was doing there. I found myself in the midst of some pot smoking and that lead to my smoking cigarettes. Long story short, quit the pot, not the cigarettes.

When I met Her, finding that purpose seemed like, explicitly defined. I didn’t feel like I was searching any more. I had found my identity through my work, through my schooling, through my relationships with others, and finally, through a woman I love wholly. I quit. Boom, done. There just wasn’t a spot for any more searching.

After we broke up, and maybe a bit before, I started again. The details of my life in that realm aren’t as important as the fact that I’m searching desperately for that last piece to be filled. Life’s taken me on some weird journeys on the other pieces, but this last piece is a really sore spot for me. I have yet to feel any closure to my relationship with Her, although I see it over the horizon. Maybe that’s hope for the end over the horizon, but whatever. Anyway, in my searching, I’ve fallen back to smoking. It’s like in my head, I’ve associated that time in life, that searching, with smoking. 

I’ve always said that I enjoy smoking because I live a pretty fast paced life and smoking gives me 5 minutes every few hours to just…stop. Maybe it’s the nicotine talking, but it isn’t that I’m addicted to the drug, I’m addicted to those quiet times. Those times when I can calm it all down, and perk my ears up to my heart, or to Him. I’ve smoked when I’m searching so I can listen to my heart, and hear what He’s telling me as I run around like a crazy person in between breaks.

That’s goofy! I don’t want to set my time with Him, or the time I’m listening to my heart into little 5 minute sections. “Oh, ok God, here you go. Here’s some time for you so I can check it off the list.” Screw that noise. I want to be listening to what he’s telling me ALWAYS. I want to be able to hear my heart the MOMENT it beats out of step knowing that He’s saying something to me in that time. Wouldn’t that be a quicker way to hear the answer he’s giving my searching anyways? 5 minutes is less than my entire day…

So that’s that. I quit. God fills a hole much bigger, and much more satisfying than she did. He’s the whole pie and will fill the piece I’m praying for in ways I’d never expect, and in a more satisfying way than I’d ever imagine. There are 10 billion other reasons why I probably should quit, but none of them speak so close to my heart as this at this point in my life.

Anticipation is what you feel before your favorite band comes out, before your football team takes the field, or that night before Christmas presents are opened. You know something really cool is going to happen, you know it’s going to be exciting and that you’re going to love it. It’ll be a blast. You’ll throw your hands in the air, scream, maybe even cry. Who knows. In anticipation, you have a general idea for what’s coming. You know what the songs will sound like, you know that the teams will run some great plays, and you might even know the exact presents you’re getting (cheater).

Expectancy requires a bit of a different mindset, though. When you’re expecting, you have a complete lack of knowledge for what’s coming. Mothers are “expecting” because the paths their newborn could take are endless, the ways their family will grow are infinite, sometimes even the gender is unknown. It’s all clouded by this great sense of the unknown. “What’s around that corner?” No idea, but you are banking that it’s going to be pretty awesome, albeit life changing.

It seems almost blasphemous or commanding to say that you’re expecting God to do something. It’s too close to the “go do this, God” that is seen in a bunch of places. 

The times I’ve expected God to do something great, he has. Every single time. Maybe I haven’t been at this long enough to have a “oh, whoops. Not that time.” but I don’t think that’s the case. I got pretty good at blaming God for things not happening. I would, maybe subconsciously, expect God to take care of me in different situations and when I got hurt, I had a pretty easy out. God didn’t take care of me. That’s just great.

I had huge issues in my logic. God didn’t take care of me in the way I wanted him to. He did take care of me in the way He knew was best for me. You hear this a lot, “God will always provide” but it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you’re trapped in your mind’s spider web of “what about this time, what about that time.”

I am learning to see that God’s there every time and that He’s showing me something in the times that I am expecting and don’t see it pan out how I wanted it to. He’s still teaching, still guiding, still holding, still in control. The hard part for me is to see where God’s bringing my attention for that lesson and to hear him quick enough so I don’t miss it.

I expect God to do great things.

There is a fine line that exists between boasting and acknowledging your skills. Boasting encompasses the acknowledgment of your skill set, where acknowledging your skill set doesn’t encompass boasting. 

Waltzing around, bringing excessive light to the things you’re good at does a fantastic job of putting yourself above those around you. It’s impossible to boast without coming down on someone, or making it seem like a “look what I have and you don’t” mentality. You’re acknowledging your skills, but in a way that’s belittling or demeaning.

Acknowledging your skills, on the other hand, brings your cards to the table. It not only lets others know what you have, but it leaves the door open, the spot on the table, for them to bring there stuff. “I do this, how do you compliment it.” 

That said, avoiding boasting by not doing either is tragic, as well. There exists a balance between self awareness and self promotion. A knowing of not only your specific gifts, talents, skills, etc but also the things you’re not so good at. That changes the acknowledgement of your skills to “I do this. I’m really not so good at this. How do you compliment what I have and how can you help with what I struggle with?” 

I have orchestrated the oh so sad tragedy. The song isn’t over, so there’s time to change. I want to focus more on the full acknowledgment of my own skills, both the positive and the negative, as a pursuit of a positive end goal. Move forward without moving over somebody.

This, is Johnny Cash:

So is this:

There’s a pretty stark difference between the two. The picture is from Billboard Magazine in 1970. There’s a whole truck load of history behind that picture. The video, released in 2002, is a cover of a Nine Inch Nails song that Cash did before he died in 2001.

So we’ve got 30+ years of life, 30+ years of experiences, and 30 years of an apparent hell on earth for one man. Yeah, Cash is an American legand, pioneer in his field, spotlight for a lifetime. Who are we? We’re not Johnny Cash, but are we something similar? What can we learn?

Cash plays the song, and even shoots the video, in a sense of “Was it all worth it?” attitude. The big question isdoes he appreciate where he had been and the road he traveled? That is to say, is he happy that he’s gone through such miserable times and life experiences (we’ve all seen Walk The Line)? Not in that “I got away with it” type of way, but in that “All these things made me the man I am today, and I can stand up as someone who isn’t foolishly looking for an answer” way.  It doesn’t always take going through hell to get where you are, but when you’ve tried walking in the darkest of dark, it’s pretty easy to say “There’s no way I’m goin back.”

We don’t need Johnny Cash and his videos and musical talent to teach this lesson. I mean, it’s nice, but he isn’t the man with all the answers. What if he is challenging us to look at ourselves, see how high we’re trying to stack our dirt pile, see where we’re really getting our joy?

Sometimes it takes the darkest of moments for me to realize how insignificant my dirt pile is. I don’t prefer that route, but know when my faith succumbs to foolishness, I still have it in me to learn from it.

I have three “drafts” for things I’ve tried writing down and posting but can’t make the connection between my head, my heart, and my fingers. Annoying. I don’t know why. Instead of forcing something out, I am going to just wait until I can’t NOT write about it.

I went out to eat with a friend yesterday, and maybe the intention was more than “just a meal” but it was good to sit down with her and hang out. Our relationship up to the past week has been strictly platonic and it could very well stay that way. As the night progressed, conversations progressed, and a reoccurring theme came up. In talking, insecurities from both sides came up and a general sense of “please don’t let this hurt, I’m hurting already as it is.” I’ve been there (despite what I might tell people, I think I still am there), and I’ve put people there. I am trying to imagine what it is like to say or do this without mimicking the cliche “oh, i’ll never hurt you” crap that seems nothing more than a line to get someone in bed.

All of this is an indication of a bigger habit of mine, a “I can do this on my own” type of thing. I’ve gotten very good at saying “well, this is how I want this to play out, so this is how I’m going to make it play out” instead of letting what He has in mind guide me. Using Him to get what I want, if not abusing Him or blaming Him when it doesn’t go my way.

I’ve thrown my way out the window. My way has serviced my physical needs pretty well, but has left me feeling really dry and miserable. It’s a weird realization that I’ve been able to do ostensibly whatever I’ve wanted for the past 2 years…and it hasn’t been enough. Seems illogical but there’s a key issue:

“…whatever I’VE wanted…”

I am trying to focus on throwing “me” out the window. It’s a big step for me on a personal level, but I think is a bigger step for myself in relationships (of any kind). I am trying to not let it hurt others, and focus on making sure the product of my failures is an education and not a burnt bridge or breaking a broken heart.

 I will, by no stretch of the imagination, say that I know the first thing about skydiving. I can apply some basic principals, though. 

If there is nothing to hold you afloat through the air, no open wings with which to fly, you’re going to fall pretty fast. And it’s going to hurt when you hit the ground. It doesn’t matter how much wind is beneath you if you don’t have your wings open with which to catch the upstreams.

The quest is to make sure you’re guided correctly and that the wings couldn’t be spread any further. It is a learning phase, of which I have much progress to make. Identifying the things that I can see upfront that will cause failure only leave the things yet to learn to cause the failure, find the ways I’m keeping my wings closed.

Making this about me, taking any sort of glory from doing this, would be more than closing my wings. It’d be a rocket ship attached to my back, plummeting me towards the hard thud below. With great risk comes great responsibility and is something I will need to lift up daily. If I can keep my eyes up and not let distractions come win my attention and focus, I will only fail as I’m learning, but won’t fail as I’m walking.