Category: Life

I’m definitely not a DIY kind of person. But I do have a handful of favorite tools that I use frequently. There are two commonalities about these tools. First, they are well-designed to meet the most common repair challenges I encounter. And second, because of their constant use, they are well-worn.

God’s cosmic project, initiated in and by Jesus and now continually implemented by Jesus’ apprentices, is the New Creation. Heaven and earth are being stitched together as God answers through our lives our communal prayer, “Your kingdom come; your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

I think you see where this is going. We are God’s tools in his ongoing project. First, we are being formed to meet the common repair challenge of building toward the New Creation. St Paul writes in 2Cor 5:17, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the New Creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” In Christ, we are God’s New Creation in bodily human form. As such, we train cooperatively with God so he continues to form us further into Christ’s likeness.

Second, as we become properly shaped into Christ’s likeness we discover, usually to our amazement, that God uses us to build toward his New Creation. But this is not a simple and pristine endeavor. Sacrifice and struggle are common in building toward God’s New Creation. And they leave their marks on us. So over time, we will become well-worn.

It’s good to remember that all of God’s saints have carried the scars of service.

So much of our society focuses on superstars and celebrities. Whether sports stars, movie stars or pop stars, we follow their lives through glossy magazines and tacky TV shows. Many people dream of meeting them or having their lives.

Sadly, this perception permeates the modern Church as well. Many Christians have their favorite pastors, Bible teachers and music leaders. And because the modern pulpit has been replaced with a stage, everyone who ascends the platform is inevitably compared to other Christian superstars.

It’s obvious from headlines that the average human being does not possess the character to sustain the weight of stardom. Yet, whether it’s in our culture at large or the smaller Christian culture, we continue to place intense weight upon deficient shoulders by our fandom.

Our culture’s perspective isn’t unique. It infested Jewish culture at the time of Jesus. His students inquired, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Matt 18:1. You can almost sense them jostling each other for the prime position, hoping Jesus would highlight a quality or trait they possessed that would mark them above the others.

As usual, Jesus performs a complete reversal, turning their expectations and understanding inside-out. He beckoned a little child to join him. In that society, a child was worth virtually nothing.

The more I read the Gospels, the more convinced I become that God cherishes the ordinary. In a great blog post, Fr Stephen Freeman makes an interesting observation. The second creation story ties humanity’s first sin to the rather mundane and ordinary act of eating. Think about that for a moment. Humanity’s and subsequently creation’s damage was caused by such a small ordinary action.

Throughout the New Testament and into the Church’s life, the acts through which we cooperate with God’s grace toward our ongoing salvation and the subsequent renewal of creation are equally ordinary. Fr Stephen names these classical exercises in his blog post — fasting, prayer, generosity, and watchfulness.

There are other equally ordinary tasks. In fact, Jesus summarizes the entire Law into two ordinary commands — love God and love your neighbor. As the ordinary act of eating impacted humanity and creation, our ordinary acts likewise can impact our lives and world. Here’s a list of ordinary moments in which we might cooperate with God’s abundant grace:

• Thank God immediately upon waking each morning.
• Move over slightly for the motorcyclist beside you on the freeway.
• Chat with a co-worker or neighbor about their life so you can secretly pray for them.
• Remain at peace in the midst of a crisis or deadline at work.
• Be polite to everybody.
• Stop and notice what’s happening around you.
• Don’t overindulge with food, TV or online activities.
• Listen to your spouse and children talk about their day’s activities.
• Exercise a little each day.
• Attend church services.
• Give to someone asking for a handout.
• Read the Bible regularly.
• Spend some time being quiet every day.
• Get plenty of sleep every night.
• Apologize when you’ve done something wrong.
• Forgive when you’ve been wronged.

St Paul encourages Timothy to “Train yourself to be godly” (1Tim 4:7). Training to be godly occurs through ordinary actions by ordinary people in ordinary circumstances.

The life of God’s son or daughter is a humble life of being God’s servant. It’s a life of following Christ’s example, learning from him how to be like him. Our life of apprenticeship to Jesus should be permeated by what Archimandrite Zacharias calls the greatest commandment of the New Testament:

“So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’” Luke 17:10

The humility exemplified by this commandment can only come through repentance. Elder Paisios of Mount Athos instructs:

“Ask for repentance in your prayer and nothing else, neither for divine lights, nor miracles, nor prophecies, nor spiritual gifts—nothing but repentance. Repentance brings humility, and humility will bring grace of God, because it is a law: grace of God always comes to the humble.”

We see this “law” at work in Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son. Both sons have the same selfish heart. But it is the youngest son who experiences the mercy and grace of his father. Humility released grace. And it was repentance that humbled the son.

The eldest son stands in contrast to his younger brother. His distorted heart was hidden behind a life of “being the good son.” He worked hard and obeyed his father. But his father’s grace toward his younger brother exposed the deep shadows of his heart — anger, resentment, entitlement, and pride. Despite living in the father’s home and doing the father’s work, without repentance the older son lacked humility and completely missed participating in the free grace of his father.

Unfortunately, the idea of repentance has itself become distorted in our culture. It has accumulated a narrow definition, something like “remorse toward ones bad behavior.” But this is not what Jesus was communicating.

During Jesus’ time, repentance had layers of meanings. It meant something like, “Think about everything that you value and trust both personally and as a community. Think about the core of what shapes you and the repercussions. And come to terms that none of it is working.” This larger context encompasses things like individual behavior, but so much more.

It’s my opinion that aligning our perspective of repentance to Jesus’ exhortation (i.e. repent of our culture’s version of repentance) is essential if we want to truly understand his teaching and ministry.

Jesus was not calling “bad” people to repent of their bad behavior. He was calling all people — “good” and “bad” — to repent, to rethink everything that they value and believe and that shapes and directs them as a person and as a people. And frankly, the core of what they needed to repent were things that they would have considered “good,” such as how to be God’s people. Through parables and actions, Jesus was calling people to take a hard look at the symbols, stories, and values that shaped their understanding of being God’s people, God’s children.

Jesus was embodying and demonstrating what God had originally intended for all of Israel to be — how to be a nation of priest so as to bless the other nations. And he did it by embodying and demonstrating how to be truly human. By being truly human as God intended, one can truly be a blessing to the nations and to creation.

Returning to the Prodigal Son, the youngest son’s repentance was not primarily remorse over his attitude toward his dad, the waste of his inheritance, nor his despicable behavior, although all of this and more would have been included. Rather, it was a complete rethinking of his core, of what it meant to be a son. And the conclusion at which he arrived was to be a servant in his father’s home. This humble insight is what transformed everything else and compelled him to return home.

And as he did, he found his gracious father not just waiting for him, but running towards him, eager to restore him back to the very position of which his internal disposition had been transformed.

“What is the greatest commandment of the New Testament?” This is the question with which Archimandrite Zacharias ended his recent lecture at St Vladimir’s Theological Seminary. I’ve learned that when spiritual fathers ask what seems like an easy question, the answer is rarely the popular or presumed one.

So after the audience shouted out the standard answers such as, “To Love God,” “To love one another,” and “To be holy as your heavenly Father is holy,” Father Zacharias told the audience to open their Bibles and read Luke 17:10.

Luke 17:10 is the punchline to Jesus’ parable on faithfulness as an expression of true faith. The parable is his response to the disciples’ request to “Give us greater faith!”

He replied, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you. Suppose one of you has a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Will he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, ‘Come along now and sit down to eat’? Won’t he rather say, ‘Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink’? Will he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? Luke 17:6-9

So are you ready for the greatest commandment of the New Testament?

“So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’” Luke 17:10

In other words, all of the other New Testament commandments are expected of Christ’s apprentices. But the greatest commandment, the one that is probably the most essential, is a constant attitude of humility as we endeavor to embody all of the commands.

This ties directly to the eldest son in the Story of the Prodigal Son. Remember his complaint to his father?

“Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!” Luke 15:29-30

On the surface, the eldest son has been working diligently and faithfully for his father. On the outside, he’s the perfect picture of “the good son.” But beneath the external loyalty is a dangerous undercurrent of pride and entitlement. And it corrupts him and causes him to miss perhaps the most important event in his family’s life — his brother has returned from the dead!

Yes, we have been adopted into God’s family and have been embraced as his sons and daughters. But we must not be deceived by a false sense of entitlement, like the stereotypical spoiled brats of royalty. As God’s children, we are called to become truly and fully human as embodied by Jesus. God’s commandments are not arbitrary rules and restrictions, but road signs that lead us to a truly human life. Being God’s children means following Jesus out of our subhuman existence and into the truly human life God intended and that Jesus embodied. It’s not an optional life, but one that is expected of all of God’s children.

To return to Jesus’ parable in Luke 17, the disciples requested a greater quantity of faith. Jesus redirected them to a greater quality of faith. And that quality is humble faithfulness, letting Jesus lead and train us into an obedient and truly human life. This is the mustard seed that can move mountains.

And like servants and apprentices of old, our constant attitude must be, “We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.” This is what it means to be God’s sons and daughters.

“A truly humble person never behaves like a teacher; he will listen, and, whenever his opinion is requested, he responds humbly. In other words, he replies like a student. He who believes that he is capable of correcting others is filled with egotism.” Elder Paisios the Athonite (via Eclectic Orthodoxy)

The above quote really struck me when I read it this morning. When I was a pastor in my previous life, I felt it was my responsibility to always be teaching people. In fact, that was the primary reason I was a pastor. I thought I had a “gift of teaching.” I believed God has prepared me through my experience and education to share my wisdom with people. I dreamt of speaking at conferences and writing books that would illuminate others to grow deeply in their faith. And the Christian culture in which I was immersed encouraged this.

And one of my favorite modes was to shock and clarify. In order to make a point, I would sometimes make an overstatement for impact and then explain what I actually meant.

While I think my intentions were good, what I lacked was true spiritual discernment and the humility to wield it properly. What I failed to realize is that knowledge is power and power corrupts. And that corruption occurs slowly and most times without notice. In hindsight, I can see where pride crept in and easily found a haven in my heart.

Now I’m not saying teachers or pastors are bad. Nor am I saying that their knowledge shouldn’t be shared. I am saying that the mark of a “good” teacher isn’t his or her knowledge or presentation skills. It’s humility. It’s knowing what is appropriate for what context. It’s discerning what is actually needed. And many times, knowledge isn’t the primary need. And at least in my life, if my first impulse is “I need to teach this” rather than “I need to listen and learn,” then it’s an indicator that humility may not be at work in that moment.

Over the holidays, our family saw Saving Mr. Banks. Some have criticized it as “a Disney movie about a Disney movie.” However, we thoroughly enjoyed “the story behind the story” of one of our favorite movies, Mary Poppins.

While there are some rather emotional scenes in Saving Mr. Banks, the one moment that put my heart in my throat was during a dialogue between Walt Disney and P. L. Travers. Disney states, “That’s what we storytellers do. We instill hope again, and again, and again.”

I’ve written about this aspect of the Christian faith in the past. We human beings live in the midst of an amazing Story filled with unpredictable twists in plot that evoke passion, misery, and joy. This Story is epic in every sense of the word, enveloping the entire cosmos. And it also contains as many subplots as there are individual lives throughout history.

At its core, the Story in which we all live instills hope again, and again, and again. Saving Mr. Banks rekindled this in my imagination. And then immediately reading N.T. Wright’s, The Case for the Psalms, further fanned it into flames. In his book, Wright explains how Israel’s ancient poems tell an ongoing story of humans living at the convergence of our time, space and matter and God’s time, space and matter. It’s upon this knife’s edge that our stories make sense within the larger cosmic Story.

So, we not only live within this astonishing Story, but like Israel’s poets, we must learn to become its storytellers too so our words, deeds and lives can instill hope again, and again, and again.

The blog, “On Behalf Of All,” has posted a letter written by Muhammad, the founder of Islam, eternally vowing to protect all Christians. I found the post to be very interesting. I haven’t had time to verify its authenticity, but it’s a good reminder for all those who claim to follow Jesus. It is time for us to stop generalizing about various groups of people. Whether they are Republicans, Democrats, Muslims, Mormons, Catholics, Protestants or any other group, we must remember firstly that all people are made in God’s image and secondly, every group has members with a variety of values, beliefs and agendas.

I think many genuine Christians loathe the unjust stereotype of being hypocritical, unthinking people. Similarly, I would think many genuine Muslims hate the unjust stereotype of being fanatical terrorists.

But here’s my personal conviction: I think the fear-mongering regarding Obama, Democrats in general, and Muslims in entirety practiced by many Christians in the wider network of relationship to which I belong is just plain evil and opposes anything Jesus practiced or taught. Jesus’ apprentices are called to embody, demonstrate and announce a radical love for all people, even those who would consider us as enemies.

I’m not saying that we turn a blind eye to what is truly happening in the world. There are current governments in our world aimed at destroying Christianity. Some are Muslim, some are not. But the call to love everyone requires a reasoned and inspired response.

“The inner conflict produced by life in the world is easily projected onto the screen of the universe, yielding an imaginary God. Only true stillness can allow the projection to dissipate.” Fr Stephen Freeman, “Unspeakably Speaking”

How true. A cursory, yet honest glance inward provides ample demonstration of this statement’s validity. A period of ministerial burnout and I recast spirituality as strictly an individual inner journey. A sense of betrayal by church leadership and disillusionment and suspicion of leadership reshape my ecclesiology into a non-hierarchical structure. Frustration at fundamentalist interpretations of the Bible reforge a personal hermeneutic of authority and obedience. And the list can go on.

The common theme in the list is that my inner conflict generates ideas about God, usually a God of my own imagination. Yet they are only ideas. They are like thin transparencies lit by a projector of my own inner turmoil. I look toward God and see a slight reflection of my own image. And that should be the warning that I travel in treacherous territory.

The answer isn’t new or different ideas. True theology isn’t about rational ideas. It’s about God. And his invitation is, “Be still and know that I am God.”

During my first years of marriage over two decades ago, I was a selfish young man. Surely to the best of my abilities, I committed my life to Debbie. Yet, I viewed marriage as the environment where my needs, agendas and dreams were to be met. When they were met, I was happy. And when they weren’t met, I was miserable.

I’ve grown up a bit in the last twenty-something years (or at least I hope so). My view of my marriage is now shaped by the future; not what what I hope to get out of the marriage, but what we anticipate our lives will be together. We both dream of growing old together, wrinkled hands entwined, thoroughly enjoying each other. We dream of doing hobbies together, working on the house together, eating out together, serving together. Truly best friends.

That future shapes our present. It’s not just something for which we hope. Rather, in some ways that future comes rushing into our present and determines how we speak and act toward each other now. The vision of that future reality sets the trajectory of our present reality so we will eventually land in that future. In theological terms, we’re experiencing “inaugurated eschatology.”

As Christ’s apprentices, that’s how we should always live our lives on an even grander scale. Through his resurrection, Jesus has released his Father’s New Creation within this present creation. St Paul states that if anyone is in Christ, the person is the New Creation (2Cor 5:17). And in another passage, he states that what truly matters is the New Creation (Gal 6:15). Finally, St John describes the ultimate future reality as the first heaven and earth giving way to the New Heaven and New Earth (Rev 21:1).

Through Scripture, we’re given glimpses of what God’s New Creation will be like. It will be the answer to Jesus’ prayer, “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” God’s justice will roll like a mighty river as he sets everything right. Evil will finally be vanquished and God will dwell with his people and truly be their King. Creation will be restored and God’s glory will cover the earth as the waters cover the seas. God’s humanity will be resurrected and ready to live in this new environment as modeled by Jesus’ own resurrection.

One can only imagine how God’s restored Creation will impact society, technology, politics, economics, business, domestic and foreign policies, environmental issues, medicine, law, education, relationships and all other facets of society.

As we view signposts in Scripture pointing toward God’s New Creation, we are challenged and compelled to embrace “inaugurated eschatology.” As the New Creation in human form, we are to let even the vaguest imaginations of God’s restored future shape our present.

While the myriad applications exceed the purpose of this post, I would like to offer one application with which I’ve been challenged. In his commentary, Hebrews for Everyone, NT Wright states:

“True gratitude both for the present world and for the world to come is the deepest and truest form of worship… When you bow down before the living God and thank him from the bottom of your heart for what he’s done and for what he will do, it is as though you are a priest in the Temple, offering the purest, most unblemished sacrifice. Only much, much more so. That is the privilege of the being a follower of Jesus the Messiah. That is the life to which our fiery God now calls us.”

Not only am I to thank God for what he’s done and is doing, but what he will do. As a I’m being restored by Christ into a Eucharistic being, my gratitude must expand to encompass what God will do. And as I learn to be genuinely thankful for God’s future, even when my personal brokenness prevents me from being ready for it myself, I’m discovering that it’s shaping me and altering my current trajectory. In other words, being thankful for what is to come is making want to be ready for what is to come and more willing to cooperate with Jesus’ transformation in my life.

I was listening to Radiolab this morning. (BTW, Radiolab has to be my favorite podcast!) They were talking about Wilson Bentley. Bentley was the first person to actually photograph snowflakes.

Bentley’s interest in snowflakes began as a teenager. At the age of 15, he would peer at snowflakes through a microscope and attempt to draw the complex images before they melted. By the age of 20, he had attached a camera to the microscope and spent the rest of his life capturing and photographing what he called “tiny miracles of beauty.” Mind you, this was 1885 and way before our modern era of digital photography.

Tragically, Bentley died of pneumonia after walking six miles in a blizzard in order to photograph more snowflakes.

Bentley’s life made me think about beauty. First, here’s a man who spent his entire life enraptured by a beauty that most would rarely ever notice. And he was not only enraptured, but dedicated to endure the hardships necessary to document this beauty. It has made me pause and reflect about what beauty has captured my attention and allegiance.

Second, beauty is not everlasting. Bentley’s snowflakes are the perfect example. Within minutes these “tiny miracles of beauty” evaporate and vanish forever. The vibrancy of a sunset quickly darkens as the sun slips below the horizon. The gleam in a lover’s eye dims with age or sickness.

Third, considering the gazillion unseen snowflakes that have fallen to earth through the ages, there is beauty that will always go unseen by any human eye. There are flowers on a mountain somewhere that will bloom and die, unwitnessed by any terrestrial being. And then I think of the untold beauty throughout our cosmos. Images from the Hubble Telescope can only hint at the beauty that lies far beyond our reach.

Our world has been intentionally infused with beauty, everything from a snowflake, a flower, a sunset to a smile and a caring hand. It makes me grateful that our Creator loves his world so much that he sent his Son. God came into our world to save it and renew it. And this makes me long for that ultimate Day of Renewal when Heaven and Earth will fully merge, all things will be made right and beauty will no longer be fleeting.

“You love me more than I am able to love you.”

That line appears in one of Met Philaret of Moscow’s prayers. And it makes me pause every time I pray it.

In my previous youthful zeal and optimism, it was so easy to proclaim my love of God as though it were a grand thing. My worship was a spiritual facsimile of Tom Cruise jumping up and down on a couch. But the older I become, the more I realize that the truth quoted above is woven into the very fabric of reality. And it has tempered my immature exuberance with what I hope is humility. For my love for God is not something that needs to be proudly proclaimed in public but humbly practiced in silence.

God is love and perhaps the greatest expression of his love was the Incarnation. It was THE event of divine love that would heal humanity and creation and yet it was shrouded in quietude, humility and mystery.

Jesus taught that the greatest command is to love God with everything we have. Again, love is not proclaimed but practiced. But how? The Incarnation whispers an answer for those quiet enough to hear. “God became like us so we could become like him.”

God, who is love, became like us so we could become love like him.

St Paul encourages us to pursue love. This means far more than giving and receiving love, although  this would be a great start for many of us. Rather it’s pursuing Christ’s likeness, who embodied divine love as a real flesh-and-blood human being. We quietly love God by daily becoming the same kind of person he is.

The Incarnation isn’t just a historical event that we memorialize once a year. It’s a daily reality for those who love God. Just as God quietly and humbly slipped into his creation on that mysterious day, he still slips into his creation through our lives as we pursue love and become a little more like him.

Many people believe tradition to be a dead thing. Movies portraying a young man or woman kicking over the traces have become cliche. Tradition is depicted as the tool of the old or entrenched trying to retain social or political power over the young or disenfranchised.

So Fr Stephen’s definition of Tradition is like stepping out of a stuffy room into a crisp winter morning. It jolts the idea with fresh vitality.

Tradition is not the tyranny of the past over the present: Tradition is the adherence to the same eternal reality throughout all time.

Behind Tradition is the eternal reality of an amazing God. He’s a Creating God, giving life abundant expression under his care. He’s an Incarnational God, loving his creation so he becomes part of it in order to renew it from the inside-out. He’s an Apocalyptic God, embodying the ultimate union of heaven and earth so creation is restored and redefined. He’s a Loving God, sharing his life with ours in order that we may be continually reformed into his life and likeness.

So Tradition is the temporal expression of this eternal reality. Tradition is alive, rich, relevant, interactive, invigorating, rejuvenating, renewing, energetic, dynamic and vibrant.

Reading Scripture. Praying prayers. Making the sign of the cross. Honoring the Saints. Receiving the Eucharist. Confessing our sins. All open the windows to the brisk breeze of eternity, shocking us back to what is truly real.

I’ve seen about every trailer and clip for The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. And yet I’ve remained a bit skeptical of the entire project. I loved The Lord of the Rings trilogy. But the thought of turning The Hobbit into another trilogy smacked of corporate greed more than artistic vision.

Then I saw THIS CLIP. I think this 1-minute clip is filled with same ethos that I love in the LOTR movies. What draws me to the LOTR movies are not the special effects, the fantasy, or the violence. It’s those startling moments when the curtain of reality is pulled back and we get a glimpse of true Reality. Moments of purpose, companionship, loyalty, and sacrifice that make sense of the pain and struggles we endure.

Those moments in LOTR continually move me to tears. And the last few sentences of the dialogue between Gandalf and Bilbo in this clip created a severe lump in my throat.

Gandalf: You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.

Bilbo: Can you promise that I will come back?

Gandalf: No… And if you do, you will not be the same.

There are moments in life when I can only shake my head in confusion and disbelief. And asking “Why?” provides no adequate answers. But it’s not those moments that are truly real or defining, despite how real they seem. It’s what, or better yet, Who awaits us at the End that is the True Reality and Purpose for everything.

I think it’s in our nature to want to make sense of what’s happening to us. Why am I sick? Why did I lose my loved one? Why am I lonely? But the meaning can’t be found in the moment. In many ways, it’s only after our life’s journey is complete that we will be able to look back with clear hindsight. But by then it’s too late. The paint on our life will have dried.

So the task in the moment is not to figure out Why but to be crafted through those moments into an ever-increasing image of Who. Because the only promise that awaits us is not that we’ll safely return from the journey, but that we’ll never be the same after the journey.

It’s been quite some time since I’ve scattered any words upon this digital parchment. Life has been full. And I absolutely love it. The first half of 2012 was filled with a lot of anxiety and fear.  Perhaps it was too many changes in too short a time. Or maybe it was simply the state of my own inner world taking its toll. Either way, things took a dark tone for awhile.

But through the help of various sources, I’ve been experiencing a significant turnaround. Perhaps the most notable is a sense of thanksgiving and gratitude I have for life, both the good and bad. I find myself thanking God each day for not only the perceived good in my life, but the potential challenges and struggles that I’m currently encountering and will potentially experience through the day

This change is subtle, yet alters the landscape of my perception. The crises that always seemed to loom before me don’t seem to be so “life-threatening” anymore. In turn, this has allowed me to focus on what God actually sets before me each day. You know, the “small” daily things like loving my wife and kids, performing with integrity and compassion at work, driving on southern California roads with patience and peace toward those around me

More and more I’m learning the myriad of small moments are what actually make up the fabric of real life. And how I live in those moments determines both who I am becoming inwardly and the “impact” I have upon my little portion in God’s world

In that light,  I want to share a couple of wonderful articles that paint portraits of genuine life far more beautiful than I can manage with my limited skills with words. The first is the blog post, “The Invisible Christian,” by Fr Stephen Freeman. And the second is “Pursuing God through the Small Things,” by Joel Miller. I would encourage you to spend a few moments reading these articles and allowing them to reframe your perception of what is important and valuable in life.

“All men want peace; but they do not know how to attain it. Paissy the Great, having lost his temper, begged the Lord to deliver him from irritability. The Lord appeared to him and said, ‘Paissy, if thou dost not wish to get angry, desire nothing, neither criticize nor hate any man, and thou wilt have no anger.’ Thus every one who renounces his own will before God and other people will always be at peace in his soul; but the man who likes to have his own way will never know peace. The soul that has surrendered herself to the will of God bears every affliction and every ill with ease, because in times of sickness she prays and contemplates God, saying: ‘O Lord, Thou seest my sickness; Thou knowest how weak and sinful I am. Help me to endure my sufferings and to thank Thee for Thy goodness.’ And the Lord relieves her pain, and the soul feels God’s help and is glad in the sight of God, and gives thanks. If some misfortune befalls you, reflect in this wise: ‘The Lord sees my heart, and if this is His will all will be well, both for me and for others.’ And thus your soul will always be at peace. But if a man murmurs against his fate he will never have peace in his soul, even though he fast and spend much time in prayer. The Apostles were deeply attached to the will of God. In this manner is peace preserved. All the great Saints likewise bore with every affliction, submitting themselves to the will of God.” Staretz Silouan, Wisdom from Mount Athos

“The soul of the humble man is like the sea: throw a stone into the sea — for a moment it will ruffle the surface a little, and then sink to the bottom. Thus do afflictions disappear down in the heart of the humble man because the strength of the Lord is with him.” Staretz Silouan, Wisdom From Mount Athos

Abbot Tryphon posts a great summary on how the Orthodox Church functions like a hospital in the therapeutic process of salvation. His opening paragraph is a good reminder that simply joining the Orthodox Church does not guarantee that we have entered the healing process. We must engage in the life of the Church in order to enter into communion with God and thus “work out our salvation” (Phil 2:12) and “train ourselves to be godly” (1Tim 4:7).

“Orthodoxy offers a very precise way in which to enter into communion with God. It is a way that must be learned, for simply “becoming Orthodox” will not lead the seeker into an inner life that will transform, and enlighten. Membership in the Church is simply not enough, for the Church is not about beautiful services, icons, or mystical theology. As a hospital for the soul, the Church is a place wherein we can receive healing for that which ails us. It is the place where we can be cured, and made whole.”

Read the rest HERE.

Fr Stephen Freeman recently adopted a puppy, which has compelled him to post a wonderful reflection about creation, fallenness, prayer, and human nature. Wow!

Here’s an excerpt:

“Do dogs pray (does creation pray)? Absolutely! “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord” (Psalm 150:6). But how do they pray? Their very existence is prayer. Every created nature is made to live in communion with God. Human nature itself lives in communion with God. Our fall does not consist in becoming something other than human – we have yet to become truly human.”

You can read the rest HERE.

Reviving my blog after a couple of years has me feeling like a singer preparing for a performance after a long hiatus. I need to cough and clear my throat as well as do some vocal exercises. So please forgive the phlegm as I try to warm up. 😉

So what am I hoping to accomplish now that I’m blogging again? Like I said last time, I want this blog simply to reflect my life as I live. Important aspects of my life are my family, theology, writing, reading, movies, music and photography. So I hope all of those things will find their way into my posts.

Here are some general “bloggy” things I’ve learned as I anticipate future posts.

Keep it short. A lot of blogs I read are long and tedious. And I too have been very guilty of being tedious. I’m trying to learn the art of brevity. One blog I read is The Morning Offering by Abbot Tryphon. He provides the most nourishing spiritual nuggets in small portions. Granted, his wisdom flows from a life of devoted, ascetical life to Christ. But he shares his profundity with great concision, something I desire to learn.

Keep it kind. I also find many blogs to be angry. Differences and disagreements provide ample fodder for blog posts. Being critical of others is just too easy. Yet, God is merciful to all. So I want to avoid rants and critiques and find beauty, grace and truth.

Keep it humble. I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. Honestly. I’m not a pastoral or prophetic voice. I hold no leadership position. I have no secret message that the world needs to hear. I’m just a man. If I had to describe myself, I guess I would say I’m striving to be Jesus’ apprentice as both a member of the Eastern Orthodox Church and a collaborator with God’s restorative mission in the world. So the majority of my posts will probably reflect this as I ponder life and other things.

First of all, Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen!

And next, Hello again!

This is weird. I walked away from this blog almost two years ago. I said my farewells and had no intention of ever returning. And yet I could never bring myself to remove this blog’s presence from the Internet. Now I wonder if part of me secretly hoped for or even planned for a return. Who knows?

The time away has been good. I didn’t have any major theological insights or spiritual breakthroughs. Nor did I accomplish some monumental earth-shaking task. I’ve simply endeavored to become what I’ve mentioned in my blog for years — I’ve tried to be a good man.

So why return to blogging? I’m stilling piecing that one together. But here’s what I know.

Two years ago, I was becoming increasingly aware that my voice was only contributing to the narcissistic noise that defines our culture. I wanted to be heard and therefore I knew I needed to be silent.

Now, I just want to live. And for me, an essential part of living is reflecting and writing. It’s a subtle difference, but an important one.

So I’m back. I’m grateful for what has been. I’m content with what is. And I’m excited about what is to be.

Back in the 1970s, during my youth, I used to love a British SciFi series called Space: 1999. The premise was that on September 13, 1999, the nuclear waste being stored on the moon exploded, knocking the moon out of its orbit, hurtling it and the inhabitants of Moonbase Alpha into outer space.

I loved everything about the show — the flared-leg costumes, the Eagle Transporters, the transportation tubes, the stun guns, even the cheesy 1970s theme music.

So imagine my delight when I learned of Space: 2099! No, it’s not a remake like J.J. Abram’s Star Trek or SciFi Channel’s Battlestar Galactica. Rather, Eric Bernard has rebooted Space: 1999 by condensing each original episode of Space: 1999 into a 2-3 minute episode. He’s also added more special effects and edited the dialogue so that all of the original characters say “2099” instead of “1999.” You can watch all of the new episodes HERE.

It’s the “perfect storm” convergence of my nostalgia and geekiness. Memories of my brother and I playing with the Moonbase Alpha Adventure Playset cascaded my mind. That Adventure Playset was pure awesomeness! The entire set, including cast and aliens, was assembled out of punchout fiberboard and occupied hours of imaginative playtime. I also remember playing with my Space: 1999 Stun Gun Water Gun. That was one fun summer!

But soon nostalgia gave way to reflection. As a SciFi geek, I’m fascinated with the various visions of the future that the genre offers, especially since many of the visions are really attempts to address contemporary social and political issues. Lately, I’ve been wondering about what is generating so many horrific post-apocalyptic visions of the future in recent months — Terminator: Salvation, 9, Daybreakers, 2012, Avatar, and The Book of Eli. As a culture, have we become so cynical that we can only envision a devastated future? In the new movie, Legion, even the ever-patient, all-loving God is now depicted as the ultimate cynic, completely giving up on humanity and sending his demonic-looking angels to wipe us out.

Frankly, I’m getting tired of watching visions of the future that are either inhabited by zombies, vampires or killer automatons or filled with images of natural disasters and post-apocalyptic devastation. It’s boring.

I’m not necessarily looking for movies that depict an utopian vision. It’s just that global hopelessness is becoming too cliche for the genre.

I just watched a preview for a new movie called, Legion. Here’s the synopsis from the website:

In the supernatural action thriller Legion, an out-of-the-way diner becomes the unlikely battleground for the survival of the human race. When God loses faith in Mankind, he sends his legion of angels to bring on the Apocalypse. Humanity’s only hope lies in a group of strangers trapped in a desert diner and the Archangel Michael.

Ooookay…

So God gets fed up with humanity and sends his angels, who are led by the Archangel Gabriel and who all look pretty demonic, to exterminate us. But thank God (or perhaps not) the Archangel Michael likes us more than God enough to rebel against Him to save our collective butts.

I’m not even sure where to begin with this one.

Today, I inflicted death. Not metaphorically, but literally. I killed a living creature.

I accidentally ran over a cat with my car.

It was a horrific moment. It seemed to happen in an instant, yet play out in slow motion. The flash of white and brown fur. The sickening thud. The even more sickening lurch as my car’s tire rolled over the cat. Then watching the cat try to stagger away, only to collapse with spasms. A few seconds later it was gone. Dead.

Ironically, I was probably at my best behavior as a driver. I was awake and alert. I had both hands on the steering wheel. I was well under the speed limit. And I wasn’t distracted by my radio or phone. And yet, in that moment, my best still inflicted death.

That’s a very disturbing thought. My best resulted in death. A life was snuffed out by my hands even though everything I was and did in that moment was good.

And the effects will continue rippling outward. Later tonight, a family will wait in vain for their pet to return home. Tomorrow morning they will continue to worry. Perhaps over the next few days they will tape pictures of their cat throughout the neighborhood, hoping someone has found their pet. But, there will be no happy ending to this story.

All I could do in the aftermath was call the police so they could dispatch animal control and leave with a sober reminder of my deficiencies, sorry for what I had done.

Several weeks ago, my family watched Bolt on DVD. While titled after the movie’s main character, it seemed the movie was created to showcase Rhino the hamster. If my family’s outbursts of laughter are any measurement, Rhino virtually stole every scene.

***** Spoiler Alert begins! *****

But one scene caught me totally off guard. At the movie’s climax, Penny, Bolt’s owner, is trapped in a movie studio that is engulfed in flames. Bolt the dog, Mittens the cat and Rhino the hamster rush toward an entrance to the movie studio. Mittens asks, “What should we do?” Bolt responds, “Just make sure I get in there.” Surprisingly, Rhino speeds through the door in his hamster ball and uses his plastic ball to bear the weight of the building’s collapsing metal frame while Bolt shoots past to find Penny. As his plastic ball begins to splinter under the weight, Rhino cries out, “It’s a good day to die!” And in the following seconds of that scene, you realize that he was actually willing to die so that Bolt could go on to save Penny.

***** Spoiler Alert ends (maybe) *****

As the movie’s action continued, my eyes welled with tears and my mind lingered on that scene. Okay, okay, I know it was a cartoon. But there was something poignantly relevant in that moment that needs to be unpacked. Throughout the movie, Rhino gives himself wholeheartedly to the adventure. And at the most crucial moment, when the other side character wonders how to respond, Rhino instinctively and naturally acts. At the instant when everything counts, he automatically does what’s needed. He responds with what the ancient fathers called “virtue.” His courage and self-sacrifice had become second-nature, so embedded in his flesh and bones that he throws himself into certain death on behalf of his friends without even hesitating to think about it. His body and mind operate as a single self-sacrificing unit, “It’s a good day to die!”

Rhino’s character reminds me of something St Paul says in Colossians. He says that he and his compatriots are praying for the Christians in Colossae so that they may lead lives worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and growing in the knowledge of God. Lives worthy of the Lord, in which goodness and knowledge of God are second nature and embedded in flesh and bone so as to be ready to act instinctively in the moment.

So, what does a life worthy of the Lord look like? If the self-help titles available at the local bookstore are any indication, such a life would be success in all areas of living. But is Jesus’ life, ministry, death, resurrection and glorification all about my success in relationships, money and business? I don’t think so. In fact, and this might sound sacrilegious, I don’t think Jesus cares a whole lot about my success. There are much more important things, such as my salvation.

So, if Scripture and the Church’s teaching are the final assessment of a life worthy of the Lord, then such a life should personify sacrifice — instinctive readiness to give myself for the good of others. A life worthy of the Lord is a cruciform life, a life in which every thought, feeling, and action is shaped by Christ’s cross.

In the movie, Rhino yearns to have Bolt’s signature lightning bolt branded upon his fur. Perhaps I need to yearn more for Christ’s cross branded upon my heart.

I enjoy writing. Yet, this hasn’t always been the case. I hated writing as a kid. Up through high school, I was a “math geek” and would take equations over essays any time.

My attitude toward writing began evolving sometime in college, after I had changed my major from Information and Computer Science to Pre-Ministry. By the time I graduated from college, I was enjoying the craft more.

Although I’ve enjoyed writing for a couple of decades now, my appreciation for the craft has continued to transform. Upon graduating from college and entering the full-time pastorate, I was filled with youthful zeal and arrogance. I believed writing would be my key to success and notoriety. I dreamed of writing the next book that would unlock spiritual mysteries and capture the hearts of American Christians.

As I matured in my ministry a little, writing became more utilitarian. Words were the tools for teaching, inspiring and leading. I studied great communicators and their techniques in order to become more successful in my own attempts to impart ecclesiastical vision and theological instruction.

Several years ago, writing shifted into a more reflective craft. I was enamored with the idea of wordsmithing. There was something romantic in the vision of a master wordsmith, a skilled artisan of prose who could sense the grain and texture of words and intuitively assemble them into a masterpiece.

The other day I was thinking about writing and I thought about a new image for a writer — a word-chef. For me, this concept captures the mastery and innovation of a wordsmith, but adds a relational dimension. Like a smith, a chef must also be skilled in his or her craft. She must master tastes, textures and temperatures and know how to combine and present them in artistic and palatable ways. This generates layers of complexity since her creation must play upon all of the senses. Yet, ultimately, a chef’s craft is for another person. As much as she loves creating in her medium, her final product is to be consumed and enjoyed by another. Another will admire the blending of colors, inhale the enticing aromas, detect the subtle textures, and have their palate caressed by the flavors.

That’s the direction I want to progress in my writing. I want to put voice to the inherent beauty around me in such a way that it impacts all of the senses. I dream of working with savory words that will roll around in another’s mouth and evoke images that allow them to experience the tang or sweetness of the moment.

This desire bore itself deeply into my thoughts the other day as I was finishing a walk around my neighborhood. In the warm light of a setting sun, I saw a young man and woman saying goodbye to each other. They held each other, kissed and parted. As the young man rode off on his bike and the girl walked down the street, I noticed a slight smile light upon her face.

It was a touching moment that no one else would witness and I wanted to frame it with words, to write a few sentences that would express the ardor and pathos of young love. And all I could do in that moment was fumble with my inability as the words remained just beyond my reach.

Moments like this occur frequently. And as providence allows me to observe them, I’m hoping beyond measure that I will learn to recount those moments with words like a verbal chef, fashioning a sumptuous meal filled with aroma and flavor that unleashes the magic of imagination.