Hold On...It's Coming

Probably the thing I struggle with most is being patient.  Not the kind of patience needed when the guy in front of you at the grocery check-out realizes he has forgotten his wallet (usually just after he scanned through his entire shopping cart).  Or the kind of patience one must possess when traveling through Chicagoland traffic.  Oddly enough these impatient moments make sense to me.

Lines at the grocery store will not go on forever and the traffic on your reverse commute will, at some point break-up.

There will be resolve.

The patience I struggle with is when life hits moments that, like heavy traffic, have little movement.  When life feels stuck I want to know how to get it “un-stuck”, I want to know the purpose of the “stuckness” and what is on the other side of the curve.

I question whether there will be resolve.

My impatience breeds anxiety and steals the joys each moment tries to offer.  No joy received.  Asleep to the possibilities in front of me and entrenched in confusing nightmares of my own making, it is in this space that God becomes the Manipulating Trickster.

Maybe another image is in order.  Something that gives respect to the restlessness I feel but renders it powerless.

Jesus gave the example of a child asking for a fish and reminded us that God is not a manipulating trickster who gives a snake, but a loving father who gives beyond what we even ask.

The dynamic is like a child jumping up and down with arms outstretched towards their parent who is lovingly (and patiently) at work un-wrapping a treat for their child.  “Hold on”, the Parent says in a tone that is affirming and promising.  “It is coming”.  With a smile the Parent finishes unwrapping and gladly hands the treat over.

The child was on the verge of a temper tantrum but the Parent was not fazed.  The treat, the gift was always coming; Hope sure and certain.  The resolve may not be in our way or our timing, but there indeed will be a resolve...

And it will abound with goodness.

Hashing It Out

Who would argue with God?  Those that love him.

Why would God bother arguing with us?  Because of his love.

Strange, but our arguments and disagreements with God are indicators of an intimate relationship.  We wrestle with those we love over matters that are important to us and so to find ourselves in a quarrel with the Divine is movement towards oneness.

Walter Brueggemann writes, “Hassling with God, which Israel did with a passion, is an act of faith.  It is a covenantal way of life, for it means that the two parties to the hassling do indeed take each other seriously and know that on their own they must come to terms with each other”.

Arguing with God is part of our mutual “working out” the relationship.  This is not merely “my” relationship with God, but rather the one we share in together (us and the Divine).  Heated dialogue reveals our passion and that which we hold close…whom better to reveal those things than to the One who placed them within our souls?

Do not refrain from questioning God on things you do not understand because of some false notion of piety.  Do not shy away from a slug-fest with the Lion of Judah because the tune “Jesus Loves Me” prances in your thoughts.  Instead…

Unleash your fear.  Scream your apprehension.  Let the furry of your frustration fly.  Be relentless with your interrogation.  

Tell the Father of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob what you really think.  Argue with vibrato and veracity because the relationship matters and love is worth it.

The Migrating Artist

“We migrate, too.  We follow the Muse instead of the sun.  When one crop is picked, we hit the road and move on the next.”

-         Stephen Pressfield

Whether it is a new idea or endeavor, the artist frequently moves from one thing to the next.  The continual movement of the artist looks erratic, impulsive and poorly planned. 

Perhaps it is.

Yet the artist also knows that staying too long is impossible.  Just as soil cannot sustain the same crops through all seasons, inspiration cannot be mined without end at one local.  If the artist stays too long (past the point of insightful discovery) they find themselves in a sparse land.  Fruit no longer bearing.

When the place we have dwelt (physically, emotionally, or spiritually) no longer offers any creative edge in which we, the artist can dance, it becomes time to journey on.

Moving with the Muse takes courage.  It takes a deep level of self-awareness and a high inner-understanding to know when it’s time to dig deeper and when it’s time to pack up.  This discernment is not an easy task and it takes risk.  If the artist digs deeper and there is nothing discovered, the only thing excavated is their own insanity.  And if the artist moves on before it was time, then unfinished business becomes their new companion.

The complex nature of the migrating artist is not something to fear or something that can be easily distilled into simple terms.  Rather, it is to be seen as what is.  Migrating, wondering, and discovering are what it means to follow the Muse.

What an incredible journey before us.



Prophets and Poets

"The world does not believe in newness.  It believes that things must remain as they are.  Shalom affirms that in a world of kings, prophets must be heard and taken seriously; that in the world of technicians, the voice of the poet is essential for the humanness of our world.  That is where the church might take its stand.  We are in danger of silencing the prophets domesticating the poets, and squeezing out the sources of newness among us.  This danger implies an agenda for the church.
Obviously it is easier to state such an agenda than to bring it off.  But that is the hard place where the crucifixion-resurrection people have always been called to be.  It is the tension between those who dream about what is yet to be given in God's promises and those who manage what is already possessed.  And surely that is what our best Reformation heritage is about: that we do not live by what is possessed but by what is promised."

- Walter Brueggemann, Peace p.133

The Brickyard

I’m not sure what kind of work you are in.  Maybe you are a school teacher, marketing exec, contract laborer, professional athlete or stay-at-home parent.  Regardless of vocation we all experience the trappings of the Brickyard.

The Brickyard is the monotonous place of production without realization or gratification.  The Brickyard is focused on maintaining the status quo for sake of the bottom line.  There is no need to be creative within the Brickyard for our role is already laid out, planned, and neatly organized (no need for free-thinking beings in the highly regulated brickyard).  The Brickyard gives the allure of safety but steals our individual identity.  Demands and quotas are the only incentives in the Brickyard. 

In the Brickyard, industry thrives at the expense of our humanness.

The myth of the Brickyard is that if we work hard enough, complete the latest project, or do as we are told it will finally pay off.  Yet it never does.  There are always more bricks to make and more walls to construct.

Walter Brueggemann writes, “the brickyard is a place of hopelessness.  Not only must we produce for the others, but there is no prospect, not in our wildest imagination, that things are ever going to change.  There will never be enough bricks to meet the quota”.

Sadness and despair set in where we lose our creative imagination for what life may bring.  Life is viewed as “the daily grind” - something we try to get through and survive, rather than a gift that is anticipated and received.

Stepping outside of the Brickyard takes courage and faith.  Courage to stand up against the managers and systems that relish in holding to the company line and faith, that when reach out in trust, the Divine reaches back.  The choice for you and I is simple:  choose between those who say, “Make more bricks” or the God who says, “Let my people go”.