Denial ain't just a river...

...in Egypt.

(Nile River in Egypt)

I first heard this joke from my brother when I was a teenager. Good jokes never get old.

It has now been a few years since 2020- one of the hardest years a good number of us have ever had. Maybe you found yourself, as many people did, reduced to living in sheer survival mode way more than you had anticipated. I know several people for whom it was the worst year of their lives. A year like 2020 has the ability to bring all kinds of spiritual/emotional junk to the surface... junk that we would rather leave buried beneath the surface. 

It's easier to just live in denial- a preferred defense mechanism against all that junk- which allows us to avoid the scary task of facing ourselves, our fears, and the pain we have accumulated. If you've done any work with grief, you know that denial is usually at the front end of that process. We deny our own pain/darkness regularly, choosing instead to "tough it out" or numb it with some sort of distraction that serves to medicate the pain. Then we tell ourselves a certain story about it, one that makes us feel good about where we are and how things are going. It's the ego's natural way of protecting us and helping us survive. 

So let me ask you: what kinds of stories are you telling yourself about reality these days? These stories aren't usually something we are really thinking about. They just sort of form automatically and then we live them out. It often takes a significant disruption for us to step back and really examine the stories we live by...

2020 was difficult, but it was not the worst season of my life. About 15 years ago I began to enter into a season of significant spiritual darkness, a "dark night of the soul," as it has been called since the mystic, St. John of the Cross, wrote about his experiences in the 16th century. When I say "spiritual darkness," I mean several things, but it included losing the felt presence/experience of God, being unable to read or believe anything in the Bible without serious doubts, questioning everything I had learned in church, finding prayer to be an impossible waste of time, and seriously wondering if God even existed. I became a closet atheist for a short time, and I had a significant amount of anger and pain that I had suppressed for years. There's a lot more to it, and maybe I'll get into that another time.

Anyway, I remember how that season came to me, unannounced and uninvited, and how fierce my denial was. Because it was such a scary, unwanted, unwelcome, unknown, unexplained, and seemingly catastrophic thing to face, I denied it with all the strength I could muster. I pretended things were fine. I tried everything in my spiritual toolbox to make it go away. I told myself that my faith really was working out just fine, and that soon it would all go back to normal.

After all, I couldn't for the life of me understand why it was happening or even what was happening. I just knew I had somehow entered into a space where nothing I had previously relied on made any sense anymore. This was an especially difficult predicament because I was a ministry leader by vocation, and I was supposed to be helping other people in their faith journeys. That's hard to do when your own faith feels like it is falling apart, but again, I don't remember even really being conscious of all that. I was just living with a lot of denial, and I kept shoving it all down beneath the surface. It's really hard to even put it into words- it was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and it wouldn't go away. I thought for a while it must be spiritual attack from the evil one, but no matter how much I prayed, read my Bible, etc., it wouldn't change.

The most difficult part of that season lasted about 7 years, and at times it was extremely terrifying, dark, and painful. I even began to scapegoat others as the problem, because it's much easier to blame others than to face yourself and own your baggage. I had a terrible nagging sense that everything I had believed about God was a lie. At times I began to believe God had rejected me and that I was what some of my Calvinist friends call a "reprobate"- someone God had supposedly decided to reject before I was even born (what an awful thing to believe!). I was pretty sure God hated me, even though I had known and experienced God's love and grace to the degree that I had given my life to vocational ministry. But even though deep down I was wrestling with all these dark things, I kept telling myself everything was fine-- my denial was fierce. I had a deep seated, unconscious belief that to be honest about the darkness would be my total undoing. 

I was right. But I was also wrong.

It was a total undoing, but it was also a new beginning.

We can live in denial for many, many years. There's no shame in this- it is often an unconscious reaction that we don't even recognize. We often condition ourselves to believe a preferred story that keeps us from acknowledging the truth. But there comes a time when we begin to see our patterns, our denial, and the holes in our preferred stories-- and then we have choices to make. 

It can be pretty sobering to realize how deep the river of denial can be. Eventually though, you either have to face it head on and deal a death blow to your ego in order to start healing, or double-down on a narrative that is completely false and live dissociated from your true self, which is the path of spiritual death. When Jesus said, "Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it" (Luke 17:33), he was revealing the true pattern of growth and transformation. The way to life is through death and resurrection. You only get resurrection after a death. What feels like the worst thing is not the last thing, but the path to the new thing. Birthing processes are painful, yet that is how new life arrives.

Emily Dickinson once said, "Dying is a wild night and a new road." 

At some of the darkest points of that season, I remember feeling helpless and certain that my life was going to crumble. The river of my denial was drying up and I had run out of ego stories that helped me believe things were fine. It was time to face the darkness head on, to be honest about what I actually believed and feared, and let the chips fall wherever they fell. As silly as it sounds, it was a Morpheus moment where the red pill and the blue pill were in front of me, and I had finally chosen the red pill to see how deep the rabbit hole would go. I didn't really expect my faith to recover, and I had no idea where I would end up. I just knew I couldn't live in denial anymore.

You have to understand- I grew up in the Christian faith, going to a good church, with a very positive experience overall. I loved how my faith had given me identity, purpose, mission, family, friends, and especially God. I loved God! I loved Jesus and had met him very personally. I was not looking for a reason to leave it all behind or go live a life of self-centeredness and sin, as some critics might think. 

These days there's a term called "deconstruction" that's used for experiences like mine. It became somewhat trendy in the last few years to talk about things people are deconstructing in their lives, often referring to previous beliefs or faith identities. Matt Chandler, a megachurch pastor, famously said that people are deconstructing their faith because it's "sexy." Well, not for me. When I was going through the thick of this dark night of the soul, it was not trendy and I felt completely alone. There was nothing sexy or desirable about it. And besides, it wasn't something I chose to do as if I had some sort of control over it. Deconstruction, at least the kind I went through, is something that happens to you whether you want it to or not. Most people I know who have gone through a similar dark night experience would never choose it- it's not fun at all. It was a multi-faceted death experience.

And I later learned it was an identification with the suffering of Christ. What I did not expect at that time was that I would be able to look back on all of it with the gratitude and perspective that I do now. A lot has changed. A lot has healed. A lot has died. A kind of resurrection happened in my internal world. I haven't "arrived" at anything, but my path is different and my faith is more settled than it has ever been. But I don't want to give the impression that things basically went back to how they were, because they didn't and I don't think that's possible unless I decide to live in that Egyptian river I've been referring to. The dark night fundamentally changed how I see, and there are some things that, once you see, you can't un-see.

Some will read that last paragraph and immediately label me as "woke" or some such nonsense. It's okay if you don't understand what I'm talking about. I'm not going to get sidetracked with today's political commentary on "wokeness" and whatever that may mean to people. All I will say is that this season of the dark night has nothing to do with that.

Contrary to my initial feelings and denial about the dark night experience, I now see it as a work of transformation that God was pleased to do in me. I could write a long narrative about what all that means, but fundamentally I met God at the bottom of the darkness in a way that I never would have expected. 

"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there... ...If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you." -Psalm 139:7-12

A lot of my internal fear was healed- fear I didn't even realize I had. It was dwelling in my unconscious mind, sitting just beneath the surface of my awareness, and I was good at keeping it there. But it was obliterated by an encounter with the love of God in the darkest depths of my despair. "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment..." -1 John 4:18

Jesus has already climbed down into the depths of our deepest darkness. At humanity's worst moment, as we unleashed our hatred toward the light of God, shouting "Crucify!", Jesus was shouting back, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do!" -Luke 23:34

And God embraced our worst malice and transformed it into the Mercy Seat.

 

"Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day..." 

My dark night of the soul/deconstruction experience was awful, but it also turned into an experience of union with Christ. Again, I didn't "arrive" at anything, and the reconstruction process is ongoing. There's a part of me that is still hesitant to even write about this experience because, well, denial ain't just a river in Egypt. And words just fail, really, to describe it adequately. I started writing this piece a few years ago, but couldn't find words to finish it then. Plus, there are some people I know who I'm pretty sure will not see a "dark night experience" or "deconstruction" as a good thing. But when I was in the thick of it, I kept wondering if other Christians had experienced something like it. I didn't know how to even talk about it- I couldn't find the right language at the time. I kept asking myself why more people don't talk about this kind of thing more often, 'cause it would sure be helpful to know you're not alone in an experience where one feels more alone than ever. 

Even though "deconstruction" has become a bit of a hot topic in the last few years, it is often referring to something other than what I experienced. Anytime something goes mainstream and people begin jumping on the bandwagon, it usually morphs into all kinds of variants and often gets hijacked by some religious or political agenda, bearing little to no resemblance to its initial meaning. That's fine, and I'm really not interested in culture wars. But in my professional life, I have encountered many, many people who have shared an experience like mine and there are probably many more who have kept it a secret.

So that is why I have written about this. Maybe it will be helpful to someone to know that this kind of thing happens more often than we think, that many are either too scared or too confused to talk about it, and that some of God's greatest work happens in the dark. If you're in the thick of it, there is hope and a way forward, and I believe God is faithfully working in ways we can't possibly imagine. 

I'm guessing there will be more dark nights ahead, but I think I will approach them differently next time.

Missing the Mark

To sin means to “miss the mark” (see picture below).

All of us miss the mark because sin also blinds us- it’s hard to hit the target when we can’t even see straight. We need to have our eyes opened.

The revelation of God in Christ opens our eyes to what God is actually like- someone who has met the mark for us, and would rather suffer humanity’s misguided wrath and hatred- to the point of death on a cross- than to be without us. 

But having our eyes opened is a lifelong process. We don’t see everything perfectly even as we come to know Christ, but remain students and learners who often get it wrong, needing mercy everyday.

We run into problems when we assume we see perfectly and start subtly judging everyone around us who sees differently, forgetting that humility is at the center of Christ’s character (see Phil. 2:3-8, 1 Cor. 13:12, Romans 12:3).

This kind of arrogance can actually deepen our blindness to the point that we begin opposing the work of God in the world, all the while thinking we are serving God (ie., note the Pharisees/religious leaders, much of church history, elements of today's “woke” culture, and the resurgence of Christian Nationalism).

Reflecting on Holy Week/Good Friday/Holy Saturday/Easter Sunday, may we remember that it was deeply committed religious people who led the mob in crucifying Jesus. 

So may the Light shine in our darkness so that our eyes will be ever opened to see the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 4:6).

Breathing as a Spiritual Practice

Scripture teaches that Christ not only created all matter (John 1:3; Heb. 1:2-3) and holds it all together, sustaining it each moment (Col. 1:16-17, Heb. 1:3), but that he then became matter in the form of a man (John 1:14)- forever uniting himself to all of it (Col. 1:19-20).

The implications of this are astounding, for if Christ was not actively sustaining everything, it would all cease to exist. But I want to briefly focus on one way to take this giant idea and use it as a spiritual practice.

If Christ is sustaining everything- including you- each moment, you can take each breath as a gift, each heartbeat as a gift, each moment as Grace extended to you from the hand of your heavenly Father. 

Try it.

As you breathe in and out, become aware of how God is choosing you each moment. God is choosing to sustain you in this breath... and now in this one... and now again in this one. 

Notice how the life-giving Spirit fills your lungs, pumps your heart, creates electrical connections in your brain, sustains your being with his breath of life- each moment. 

This is the love of God, the presence of God, the Spirit of God, closer to you than your own breath. Simply becoming aware of this is one way to "rejoice always, pray continually" and "give thanks in all circumstances" (1 Thess. 5:16-18). 

All is Grace.

Selah.

The Bronze Snake

There's a fascinating story in the Bible about a bronze snake on a pole (see Numbers 21). The people of Israel were traveling through the wilderness and began to grumble (as they often did) about how they were running short on food and water, and how they had plenty back when they still lived in Egypt... you know, before Moses had led them to freedom. They began to romanticize their past when their present and future looked scary and uncertain. As a result of their complaining, venomous snakes were sent to bite and kill many people, so they repented and cried out to the Lord to be delivered from the snakes. So God instructed Moses to craft a bronze snake and put it up on a pole, and anyone who was bitten could look upon the bronze snake on the pole and would be healed (Numbers 21:8).

Now, there is much to discuss in this (strange) story, but I want to focus on a particular point. The bronze snake was a method of grace and healing that was initiated by God for the benefit of the people. In its time, it was divinely sanctioned and it worked. People who utilized the bronze snake were using the method that had been specifically given for them in their particular time and circumstances.

But look at what happened over time. In 2 Kings 18, we read about how Hezekiah later became king and how he took the bronze snake that Moses had crafted and smashed it into pieces because Israel had been burning incense to it (verse 4). In other words, Israel had made an idol out of a particular method God had used in the past. It went from something infused with God's Spirit to a tradition/symbol, and then became an idol as several generations passed.

Now, one can see how easily this happened. God clearly initiated the bronze snake and used it mightily amongst the people. There was clear evidence that this remedial method "worked." People were healed. It was God's anointed way forward. Why wouldn't they preserve that thing and get all of the mileage out of it that they could? If God used it in the past, why wouldn't God use it now? After all, God doesn't change, right?

This makes sense to us. God uses a particular method and blesses it and people's lives change and we may think, "Aha! We've found the magic bullet that God has anointed!" And in that particular time and place, perhaps it is anointed and it has life and energy and people's lives are changing through that particular method. So why not preserve that thing and get all the mileage out of it that you can?

And so every generation as it grows older starts to think that their way of doing things is the right way, and often times the only way, because they perhaps learned what God was doing in their own time, cooperated with it, and saw some results. "In my day, we did it this way and it worked just fine." Yes, it may have worked great then. But now, maybe not so much? 

The Spirit of God is alive and creative, always "making all things new" (Rev. 21:5). Isn't God free to work in ways that we aren't used to? Groveling in the past because we've made an idol out of what worked for us doesn't necessarily help much in the present. Perhaps God is not stuck in our past the way we often get stuck there.

What's worse, every generation as it grows older is then also tempted to despise the younger generations and their new methods as a big problem, scapegoating them because they don't understand them. "Kids these days..." or "Those Millennials..." or "This new generation..." or something similar is often the beginning of a big rant about how the world is going to hell because the young people don't respect the idolized and idealized past of older generations. 

Of course, there's legit wisdom to glean from tradition and from people who have lived longer, and sometimes those things are dismissed by younger generations. We stand on the shoulders of people who have gone before us. There may indeed be some needed critiques of younger generations, but not at the complete dismissal of how God may be doing new and beautiful things through them.

I have often heard the phrase, "We need to get back to the way things were done in the book of Acts," because there is an underlying belief that the methods found there are the anointed methods that will work, and if we could just tap into it we'd see all kinds of great stuff happening. But the church in that time was far from some "golden era" that we're all meant to copy and paste into our time. Just read Paul's letters to see that the church in that time struggled with all kinds of issues just like we do today.

Of course, we learn from all these stories and glean all the wisdom from them that we can, and we celebrate how God has worked in the past. But we also listen and discern and cooperate with what God is doing in the present, even as it disrupts our norms and traditions. Because sometimes those traditions have become idealized and idolized and people have been burning incense to them for a long time. Sometimes they can be reformed, but sometimes they must be destroyed like the bronze snake.

So, can you think of any modern "bronze snakes" in the church?

Never in a Million Years...

Never in a million years would we have imagined a God like this...

Instead of us ascending up a mountain to reach God, this God descends to us and even becomes one of us.

Instead of being found only in the spectacular and impressive, this God is found in the everyday and the ordinary.

Instead of us spilling our blood to get to God, this God spills his own blood to get to us.

Instead of returning the hate of sinners with more hate, this God includes, forgives, and heals us.

Instead of gravitating toward the strong and popular among us, this God gravitates toward the weak and marginalized among us.

Instead of using his suffering as power over us in order to punish us, this God uses it as power for us in order to transform us.

Instead of making us earn our way back through self-hatred and self-punishment, this God sets us free and invites us into his fullness of life.

Instead of using external brute force and coercion to get people to change, this God pays the price of change within himself, then gives it to us as a gift.

Instead of keeping his distance due to our unworthiness of his presence, this God creates faith and transformation in us from the inside.

Instead of getting frustrated at our hard hearts and slowness to change, this God patiently woos and loves us from the inside until we wake up.

Instead of sending fear and retribution and shame and sin and death to wreak havoc in our lives, this God turns them all upside down and uses all of it in our favor.

Instead of overcoming by punitive “winning,” this God overcomes with co-suffering “losing,” and calls us to the same.

Instead of leaving us in our chosen blindness and delusions, this God is pleased to reveal his Son in us.

Instead of appearing very powerful, this God appears very powerless. A naked, bleeding, poor, weak-looking man who has been betrayed and abandoned by all of his friends, rejected by both society and religion, suffering alone and dying on a cross- becomes the perfect image of what God is actually like- not a passive doormat who somehow makes suffering heroic in and of itself, but one who becomes the means by which death and evil are absorbed and completely destroyed forever.

Never in a million years would we have imagined a God like this-- perhaps that is one of the more compelling reasons to believe.

The Receptor Determines the Meaning

How do you hear this statement?

"Nothing is better than God!"

Let's say Mr. Theist heard this and gives a hearty "Amen!" because of a deep conviction that God holds supreme value.

But let's say Mr. Atheist heard this statement, and also gives a hearty "Amen!" because of a deep conviction that believing in nothing is better than believing in God. 

Interesting how a phrase could be interpreted to mean completely opposite things! Well, what did the one who communicated it mean? What was their intention when they said it? Was it more in line with Mr. Theist or Mr. Atheist? Or was it something else entirely?

The issue is how the receptor interprets it, because the receptor ends up determining the meaning, even if it's different from the communicator's original intention. 

Have you ever gotten into an argument (for example, with your spouse) because you heard something that was said and interpreted it in an offensive way, only to find out later that the original intention was not offensive at all? But because you interpreted it poorly, it got under your skin and blew up into a fight (by the way, this is TOTALLY hypothetical... I have NEVER done this... I'm only asking for a friend...*cough, cough*...🙄).

 

I have been preaching sermons since my early twenties, and it is fairly common for someone to come up to me after a sermon and say, "Wow that was really helpful when you said XYZ..." and they go on and on about something that I'm pretty sure I never said, or at least didn't mean to say. Or there have been times when someone heard me say something that really hacked them off, and again I don't know how they interpreted it the way they did, because I didn't intend it the way they took it.

Now, it's possible that I'm just a sucky communicator, so I'll take partial responsibility (However, I do know for a fact that this happens to many people who do some sort of public speaking). But the reality is we all have a complex set of filters and implicit biases for how we hear and interpret things. In other words, "the receptor determines the meaning" (1). This set of filters shows up in all our relationships. For example, people may have a set of filters that naturally gives them a bias toward negativity or positivity, which may become quite apparent after you spend some time with them. I'm guessing there's probably certain people you can't have certain conversations with because you know they are going to hear and interpret everything in a bad way and it's going to cause a fight. Then there are people who always assume the best and believe the best about you, and those are the people you feel safe with and can have deep, honest conversations with about anything.

There's quite a lot in the writings of the Apostle Paul that address the way we think about and interpret reality (For instance, see Philippians 4:4-8, Colossians 2:8, Romans 12:2,18, etc.). In 1 Corinthians 13 we are instructed that love "doesn't keep a record of wrongs" (vs. 5), which can also be translated "doesn't impute a wrong motive to another." In other words, if you are loving well, you don't assume the worst in people or project bad motives or ill intentions onto them. You don't rashly label people as "evil," even if they are capable of evil. Instead, you give them the very best benefit of the doubt that you can. Verse 7 adds that love always trusts, hopes, and perseveres. It doesn't give up and it doesn't fail (vs. 8), because love is the power that changes the world.

We live in a time where our implicit biases tend to make us quite polarized. We have filters that precondition us to hear things a certain way, and as the receptor to whatever information we are consuming, we have the power to make our own meaning out of it. It's very easy to demonize and accuse each other because of predetermined assumptions. I've done it and I've had it happen to me. It's probably a good time to step back and examine our own biases and ask ourselves what we're preconditioned to hearing, and what sorts of echo chambers we exist in. Maybe we should stop blaming the media or some other external force, and start taking responsibility for how we are choosing to think about and interpret reality.

Some people really react to the idea that they have implicit biases or filters. But it is a prideful ego that insists that one is a pure, unvarnished receptor of the truth at all times. It is also quite dangerous to trust your own judgment in such a way that you need no accountability or help from anyone else. That is a recipe for great self-deception, narcissism, and an inability to be corrected, which will stunt growth and maturity. As an individualistic society, we are conditioned to need no one else, and to believe we are self-made successes. A little humility would suggest we don't see the whole picture (see 1 Corinthians 13:12) and that we all have blind spots.

So what filters are in place, and does it allow for unpleasant truths or just the "truth" that we want to hear? Truth matters these days just like it always has, but we are having a hard time agreeing on what the truth even is or how we can know it. We can start with unclogging our own ears appropriately, and the humility to admit that we are not some pure, unvarnished receptor of the truth, but that all of us interpret and make meaning based on who we are and where we've come from. If you want to be really brave, honestly ask a friend or family member what they think about your filters and biases. That will likely help uncover some things that we aren't aware of or don't want to admit, which can sting a little. But it will ultimately move us toward greater self-awareness and a greater capacity for actually knowing the truth. 

We will always have biases and filters in place, and we will always ultimately determine  meaning based on our perceptions and interpretations. But if we know what our biases and filters are, and we are brutally honest about them, we will be less prone to self-deception and much more open to wisdom and truth. As people who ultimately determine meaning for our lives, we're not always going to agree or interpret reality the same way. But that doesn't mean we have to demonize each other or that we're actually as different as it may seem. 

What if we changed one of our fundamental assumptions to this: As humans, we have more in common than what makes us different. If we focus on what unites us rather than what divides us, maybe we can work together toward understanding and the common good. Maybe someone who annoys you and you think you have nothing in common with, is actually holding up a mirror to who you are, exposing your biases, and you don't like what you see. 

What if those things that you want to dismiss can be your greatest growth opportunities? What if, as someone who determines and interprets your own meaning, you can reject the normal rhetoric and have a profound impact for good progress and unity and collaboration rather than division? What if we truly believed that it's good to have some opposition to our viewpoints, to keep us accountable and help us check our predetermined assumptions? What if God and truth and reality are infinitely bigger than our current perception, and there is great wisdom to be found in loving and befriending our "enemies" (Matthew 5:43-48)? 

Notes:

(1) I first heard this phrase in the book, Communication Theory for Christian Witness by Charles H. Kraft.

The Gift of Self-Critique

Richard Rohr once said, "The ego hates losing-- even to God."

The ego, which is all about self-preservation, cannot take criticism... at all. Self-critique, or honest self-examination, is necessary for growth and maturity. The Psalmist prayed, "You delight in truth in the inward being" (Psalm 51:6). The ego presents a story that often blinds us to what is actually present in our deepest thoughts and beliefs.

To self-critique, self-examine, admit fault, and humbly own up to our limits and wrongs, will mean we can "repent" (Gk. = "change our minds") from ways that are doing harm to ourselves and others, and turn to ways that are life giving and beneficial. But to the ego, self-critique feels like an intolerable threat to our identity. It has to win and be right. People generally say they want the truth, but when the truth is hard to hear, the ego screams "No!"

As Jack Nicholson famously said in the movie A Few Good Men...

 

"You can't handle the truth!" 

In Romans 8, the Apostle Paul talks about the "realm of the flesh" as a way of living that cannot please God and a way that does not give life. The ego, or ego-centrism, is a close parallel in modern psychological terms to the “realm of the flesh” as Paul described it. It involves self-focused, fear-based, survivalist, indulgent living, which defends the ego’s story of reality at any cost- even when it is completely untrue.

We as a society seem to have a serious inability to handle self-critique. It appears we are living by the survival mechanisms of the ego/flesh on steroids. We seem way more concerned about proving ourselves right than reflecting on how we may possibly be wrong, or at least limited, in our viewpoints.

There are clear signs everywhere that we are an ego-driven, survive-rather-than-thrive culture. It's visible in our politics, religion, and social lives. It's dualistic thinking on overdrive-- either/or, black and white, us vs. them, overly simplistic thinking that makes no room for nuance or complexity or context, but relishes in blanket statements and soundbites that fit into our Twitter feeds. Social media has, in many ways, helped reduce us to these ways of thinking.

I have at times (like most of us probably have) been seduced into the dualistic thinking that ultimately reduces people into simple either/or categories, rather than complex, unique individuals made in the image of God who come from a wide variety of different backgrounds and experiences. People can't be simplified into simple either/or blanket statement categories. It is spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually lazy to do so.

Ego-driven dialogue is not motivated to actually find solutions that are good for everyone, but to simply win over the other side, because winning is everything to the ego. Again, the ego hates losing-- even to God. It feels pretty good to win an argument. It strokes the ego story and makes us feel validated and affirmed. But I think we all know that sometimes even if we win, we lose.

American Christians are sometimes the worst at fear-based ego thinking. I have heard more than enough about how we are now doomed, how our freedoms are going to suddenly disappear, how we're no longer going to be allowed to even practice Christian faith- all because of the results of an election. I hear fearful narratives all the time about how the church is losing its young people, how it’s failing in its mission, and how the nation is becoming less and less interested in a particular version of the Christian story that used to be mainstream, and how that means evil is winning. But is that the only way to interpret our present times?

It seems reasonable to me that Christians would be the ones who express an unshakable confidence in God's good plans, who are ready to rethink things when necessary (this is basic repentance), who engage in appropriate self-critique that challenges assumptions we've picked up along the way, and who continue to reimagine what God may be up to in the present time as he actively makes all things new (Rev. 21:5). Faith is not static certainty, but confidently trusting and following the One who is leading us forward into all truth (John 16:13). That means we will have to re-adjust sometimes. But rather than engaging in self-critique and listening to the prophetic tradition of the scriptures, many are simply doubling down on their right/left narratives, convinced that the other side is pure evil.

The prophets of Israel had a very specific function of critiquing their own tradition, their own people, their own identity group, and exposing idols. This practice of self-critique is unique to the Biblical tradition historically, and is crucial for any people group's survival. This was not an easy job for the prophets, for it set them up to receive all the lambasting violence of people who couldn’t handle any form of critique on their way of life. Prophets routinely exposed the idolatries of the day, which produced one of two responses: either humble repentance or angry violence. The prophets were regularly killed by mobs who couldn't hear the self-critique that laid their idols bare and exposed their sins.

Idols almost always start out as good things. I love the evolving story of the bronze snake in the Bible (see Numbers 21:4-9). What initially served as a life-saving, God-ordained gift, became an idol that had to be destroyed (2 Kings 18:4). We are tempted to do the same thing with our traditions. Something that was once life-giving and fruit-bearing for our lives easily becomes an idol that must be destroyed. Is it possible that American Christians have some idols that need to be destroyed?

Self-critique is a gift and a way forward, if we have the humility to actually hear it. Some scholars suggest Israel's ability (at least for a remnant of them) to self-critique both personally and nationally played a key role in surviving their exile to Babylon and maintaining their unique identity as a people. They had to rethink a lot of things, let go of certain expectations, and repent of previous ways of living. The words of the prophets were crucial for their survival. In the same way, Jesus followed the prophetic tradition and immediately called people to repent, to change their thinking and their current course, if they wanted to survive and receive the kingdom of God that he inaugurated in their midst. Unfortunately, many people of the time did not survive because they would not hear his critique and his warnings. They maintained their expectations and their path, which ended in horrific destruction in 70AD.

People of the time could not have imagined how different their Messiah would be than what they expected, even though he was in perfect fulfillment with the scriptures they knew. They needed a new set of lenses to reinterpret their story, and that required a willingness to let go of old assumptions and embrace the new reality unfolding before them. This can be a scary and immensely difficult thing to do- especially if we are out of practice- but Jesus is clear: we must be born again. We must become like children. We must be converted- again and again and again.

What an enormous gift it is to be able to hear prophetic self-critique and to respond, even as it grates against our established patterns, demands change, and often makes us quite uncomfortable. To despise needed critique and correction is dangerous and just plain stupid (see Prov. 6:23; 10:17; 12:1; 15:5-12). Prophetic words can really sting sometimes, but they are meant to bring rescue and salvation. Our egos are tricky, and we are easily prone to self-deception. The practice of self-critique, humble repentance, and listening to those who are different and wiser than us can counter that deception and keep us in check.

Basic humility would teach us that we don't see the whole picture, and that we can learn something from anyone, even our supposed "enemies." Political parties are not some pure, unvarnished version of the truth, but people side with them and defend them as if they are. Neither are our religious traditions or other ideologies perfect. No one gets everything right. We're human, and if we're unable to hear anyone challenge our present self-assured thinking, we'll likely dismiss it to our own folly and destruction.

Doomsday Eschatology and the Good Old Days

Have you ever heard someone say something like this?

"Kids these days... why, when I was their age, my mom would just rub dirt in it and call it good."

"Well, when I was in school, I walked several miles through ten feet of snow, uphill both ways!"

"Maybe if parents were raising their kids better, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"These younger generations are going to ruin America!" 

I remember hearing similar phrases when I was a youngster. Some adults would be talking about how "kids these days" are a big problem and will probably ruin all the good things their hard working generation had fought for. Now as an adult, I still hear it and have even caught myself saying similar things. The younger generations are an easy scapegoat for all of society's current and impending problems.

I once read an article in the Wall Street Journal that talked about how humans have a long track record of longing for the "good old days." Apparently, every generation goes through this phase of nostalgic longing for their golden past, believing it to be much better than the present. And there's usually plenty of skepticism about the future to go with it. 

According to the article, "Cuneiform tablets show that 5,000 years ago, the Babylonians were already complaining that the world had gone downhill..." 

Isn't that hilarious? 😆

I can imagine these ancient Babylonians saying, "Why, when I was their age, the Code of Hammurabi was good enough for me! Next thing you know, these kids will start saying our supreme god Shamash is nothing more than a burning ball of gas in the sky!"

The 1950's are often envisioned as a "golden era" of America's past. But the article continues, "In the 1950s, American sociologists worried that rampant individualism was tearing the family apart. There were serious racial and class tensions, and everyone lived under the very real threat of instant nuclear annihilation. In fact, many in the 1950s thought that the good old days were to be found a generation earlier, in the 1920s. But in the 1920s, the pioneering child psychologist John Watson warned that because of increasing divorce rates, the American family would soon cease to exist..." 

On and on it goes...

Religious folks can be some of the loudest at condemning the present generation while longing for some lost golden era when everything was great. It's basically built into the worldview of many Christians, who have adopted a kind of doomsday eschatology (eschatology refers to "last things" or "the end") that was popularized in the 20th Century by folks using a particular way of reading the book of Revelation. This belief system teaches that the world is getting constantly worse, that each generation is moving successively closer to the rise of darkness, where an evil one world government will be ruled by an Anti-Christ figure, and a great war (Armageddon) will eventually break out, along with other doomsday atrocities (supposedly) detailed in the book of Revelation. 

So it makes perfect sense to a large number of folks that each upcoming generation could be the great turning point that ruins the world. It creates an extremely pessimistic and apathetic view of the future because "it's all gonna burn anyway." Sadly it's the only view many Christians have ever been taught, and it tends to shape how we live. Just in my short lifetime, I've lost track of how many Anti-Christ figures and supposed rapture dates have come and gone, having been predicted by supposed prophets or authorities (who were wrong every single time). 2020 was a year where I heard not just a few times, "the book of Revelation is being fulfilled!"

People with this view also tend to romanticize a supposed past "golden era" of the Church. Often you'll hear things like, "We need to get back to the book of Acts!" Apparently that's when everything was fantastic... except that it wasn't. The first Christians faced worse conditions and harsher persecutions than anyone in America has begun to imagine (though that won't stop many Christians from whining like they are being persecuted). And the Church was definitely not in some pristine, unified condition where everyone believed in the "true" Gospel- (you know, before all these danged liberals ruined it...). Just read the letters of the Apostles in the New Testament- they are all addressing major problems, divisions, corruptions, and downright ridiculous issues that the churches were dealing with. It was bad enough that they thought the end was near, likely to happen in their lifetime.

Every generation seems to think the world is crumbling and they're losing the once blessed reality they used to know. New innovations and developments are regularly demonized as the rise of this present generation's debauchery. According to the article mentioned above, when bicycles first came on the scene, some people feared they would "create a generation of hunchbacks, since riders leaned forward all day, and that sitting in a bicycle saddle would make women infertile."

Today, it's kids who play video games and use smart phones that will "ruin America." Their brains are apparently rotting from all of this digital stimulation, and they're becoming lazy, entitled brats who have to be entertained and are good for nothing and will probably usher in the age of the Terminator. Of course, there are some legit concerns (and scientific data to back it) about the overuse of digital media, but you get the point. We could also talk about the recent doomsday scenarios around COVID, vaccines, and government control, but let's save that for another day. As people get older, they tend to start thinking that everything was better when they were a kid, and happily judge the upcoming generation as the one who's going to blow it (which also conveniently excuses them from any of the blame).

What is strangely absent from the worldview of a good number of Christians is the belief that God is actually "making all things new," as it says in Revelation 21:5. Or take, for example, the prayer of Jesus for God's kingdom to come and God's will to be done "on earth as it is in heaven." Is it possible that this prayer is actually being answered to some degree, and that maybe some things are actually getting better in this world? Or look at the parables of Jesus about the mustard seed or the leaven in the dough or seeds or light or any of the teachings where it starts small but grows into something well beyond what was expected. Why, in light of these pictures of God's kingdom and growth, are Christians so pessimistic and cynical about there being any progress in the world? Yes, there is also darkness, but the darkness has not overcome the light (John 1:5).

The Apostle Paul had a few words about living with hope, trusting in good things to come, living at peace with everyone as much as possible, loving others as the most excellent way that never fails, always trusting and persevering, living with gratitude, believing in the power of God, etc. Yes, he also said that the last days would also have terrible evils (2 Timothy 3:1-5). But you'd think Christians would maybe be a little more optimistic about God's redemptive work in the world. Jesus, likewise, said there would be trouble in this world, but to take heart because he has overcome it (John 16:33). That doesn't mean "hold on for dear life and await the great escape from it all." It means to press in with confidence, be present in the world, be a change agent, rest and trust in the work of Christ, who is the redeemer, who is making all things new (Rev. 21:5), who will not let any of your work be in vain (1 Cor. 15:58), who is in all and through all (Eph. 4:6), and who holds all things together (Col. 1:17). It's a God-soaked world... act like it.

Unfortunately, doomsday eschatology remains quite pervasive, like a dark overcast in the Christian imagination. It seems Christians tend to prefer labeling everyone outside their camp the "enemy," and imagining darkness prevailing as the world just gets worse and worse. There is apparently something quite appealing to separating ourselves from all the "wrong" people, and seeing ourselves as the persecuted victims who heroically stand up for what's right. So instead of having a reputation for leading the world in healing and restoration, Christians have a long track record of escapism, pronouncing judgment and condemnation, and even encouraging the destruction of the world. 

And this is why: your imagination will guide your life and actions. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy. The mind either gets renewed and sanctified and transformed by the light of the Gospel, or it tends to get sucked into fear-based narratives of self-preservation, control, and escapism. A "gospel" that embraces fatalism and escapism is a "gospel" that denies the Incarnation, and is really no gospel at all.

The Voice of Death and the Voice of Life

 

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -John 1:5

It's been a dark, death-dealing kind of year. 2020 will go down as a year no one forgets. The politics alone make it memorable, but it's also been a year of great loss for many. COVID has taken away normalcy, jobs, businesses, and the lives of loved ones.

When things are difficult for a long period of time, the Voice of Death begins to speak loudly. It says things like, "Bad things will keep happening. Life is really depressing and unfair. Don't get your hopes up. Don't you see how the universe is against you? Life sucks and then you die."

When we experience personal failures or hardships, the Voice of Death says things like, "You're a loser. You aren't contributing anything. If people knew who you really are, they'd all abandon you. You'll never change. You'll never make it beyond where you are. You are worthless."

But there is another Voice...

When things are dark, this Voice says, "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." When we experience personal failure or loss, the Voice of Life says things like, "This will not defeat you, it will become a catalyst for change. You are made in the image of your Creator. I am with you, even when it doesn't feel like it. You are loved. Participate with me and you will become an unshakeable person. Trust me, I am pulling you forward. Death does not have the last word."

When we encounter other people, the Voice of Death speaks: "What an idiot. I can't trust them. I'm inferior. I'm superior. It's a dog eat dog world. Be afraid of them. They are evil and worth nothing."

Or the Voice of Life speaks: "They are your brothers and sisters. You are all connected. Love your neighbor as yourself. They, too, are made in the Divine image. Look for the good."

We all form a story, a narrative that we repeat in our heads. This story shapes and interprets life for us. What does yours sound like? Which voice has authority?

A crucifix is a powerful symbol. It tells a story that can be interpreted more than one way. Someone could look at it and only see suffering, brutality, darkness, shame, misery, and death. 

Or someone could look at it and see death being transformed into life. Darkness being exhausted of its power. Light shining even in the blackest darkness. Love that never fails.

"The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world." 

-John 1:9

Believe.

Two Different Worlds

I watched the vice presidential debate the other night, as many of you probably did, and there's so much that could be said about it (At least it was better than the Presidential debate, though the need for stronger moderation remains). But there's one thing that, even though I have seen it over and over again in every area of our current climate, I find the most fascinating.

After the debate was over, news outlets and social media began their commentaries, and as you might expect, the reactions were completely polarized. People who lean left insisted that Senator Harris was the clear winner, and people who lean right insisted that Vice President Pence was the clear winner.

The reasons for who "won" were nearly identical- our person spoke to the issues with clarity/leadership/truth, while their person avoided questions/lied/violated their time limits/etc.

What's fascinating is how people- not just media outlets- tend to see what they want to see. If we've already made up our minds about who we support, we automatically see it just as our chosen sources and pundits see it. And it's (apparently) with all sincerity that we each believe we see it accurately while the other side is completely duped. 

Richard Rohr has often said, "People tend not to see things as they are, but as they are."

This is not news, but America is two different worlds, with different facts, different truths, different rules, and different ideologies. We are in sore need of leadership that can celebrate our diversity, AND bring us together and unite us under a compelling vision that transcends the current divides. It's getting kind of scary.

We Become Like What We Oppose

Think of something you are really against... something that makes you get all worked up and angry, and perhaps makes you start playing imaginary conversations in your head. You know, the conversations where you are confronting that person who represents ______ (whatever you're against) and telling them how it is. Maybe you don't have to imagine this too much--maybe you are actively engaged in this kind of thing on Facebook or Twitter. Maybe this is a regular occurrence, where you are opposing your enemies fiercely, telling them how it is, and making sure they understand that you are against everything they stand for (and throwing in a few subtle jabs and insults for good measure). 

How's that working for you? Making any progress? Changing anyone's mind?

One of the great big dangers we have in fighting against something, is the very real possibility of becoming like the thing we oppose. Someone may say, "I thought it was a good thing to fight against evil." And in response, I'd say, "Of course it is... however, there is a right way and a wrong way to do it. There is the very real danger that we can take on the negative energy of the thing we are fighting."

In the 1st Century, many Jews bitterly opposed the cruelty of the Roman Empire that they were subject to. They were constantly on the lookout for a Messiah who would rally them together and fight for their freedom so they could regain their land. But when their Messiah came and tried to show them a different way, they were already captured by the spirit they opposed. Ironically, they ended up cruelly torturing and killing the one who came to save them by handing him over to the very people they hated. They had become the very thing they so bitterly despised about the Roman Empire--so much so, that in 70 AD they did finally rise up in rebellion against Rome and were crushed in response. 

Apostle Paul instructs us in Romans 12:17, "Do not repay anyone evil for evil." In the name of fighting against a terrible evil, someone may easily justify doing evil to the evildoer. It happens all the time, if we're honest, which is why he says in another place, "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood," but against powers, principalities, and spiritual forces (Ephesians 6:12).

Think of any number of our modern action films, where something terrible happens to the good guy, who then gets revenge (and then some) by going after the bad guys and doing the same kinds of things to them. "Eye for an eye," we might say, and call it "justice." But Paul wisely says that this is not our place, and the reason is we very easily get captured by the evil we think we are defeating. 

No problem can be solved at the same level of consciousness that created it, noted Albert Einstein. If we don't find a higher way to deal with evil and problems, we just take on the spirit we are opposing and become another great evil in the world.

In the long resistance against apartheid, Bishop Desmond Tutu noted:
“We must not allow ourselves to become like the system we oppose. We cannot afford to use methods of which we will be ashamed when we look back, when we say, '...we shouldn't have done that.' We must remember, my friends, that we have been given a wonderful cause. The cause of freedom! And you and I must be those who will walk with heads held high. We will say, 'We used methods that can stand the harsh scrutiny of history.'”

Similarly, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., has often been quoted, "Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that."

In the closing lines of the movie Star Trek: Into Darkness, Capt. James T. Kirk says this: "There will always be those who mean to do us harm. To stop them, we risk awakening the same evil within ourselves."

Indeed, we can easily miss the fact that the darkness has a seductive power to it, a power that we often don't think we'd be seduced by until it's too late.

"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you," said Friedrich Nietzsche.

The New Testament repeatedly warns:

"Bless those who persecute you; Bless and do not curse." -Romans 12:14
"All who live by the sword will die by the sword." -Matthew 26:52
"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." -Luke 12:34
"You reap what you sow." -Galatians 6:7

"Love your enemies." -Matthew 5:44

Because we become what we repeatedly do.

"Sacrificing the values that define you for a good cause cannot bring real victory. If division is the enemy, dividing cannot be the answer. Building bridges is the answer. If war is the problem, violence cannot be the answer. Peaceful resistance, compassionately displayed is the answer. If selfishness and greed are the concerns, then looking out for your best interests cannot be the answer. Heartfelt sacrifice for the good of others is the answer. If dishonesty is the problem, responding with half-truths or falling into self-deception cannot be the answer. Openly and fairly seeking the truth is the answer. Our ego’s tell us to do to others what they have done to us. But most of us see the superiority of the golden rule, doing unto others what we would want them to do to us. If we become that which we oppose, then we abandon the moral high ground and the real basis for lasting change."  -Darren Bond

I don't know about you, but I see our culture getting more and more ugly as it harnesses all of its energy on fighting opposition. And while there are many people doing heroic work, rising above the evils they encounter, may we remind ourselves regularly to resist the seductive powers that pull us into becoming the very thing we oppose.

The Mirror of the Pharisees (Part 2)

In John 3:1-3, there’s a famous passage that many people recognize.
It says this:

“Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.” Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”

Nicodemus was a Pharisee, and the Pharisees are often poorly understood as mere legalists, bigots, or hypocrites. While there is some truth to this stereotype, Pharisees were respected by most as sincere religious leaders who truly worked to empower the people. As New Testament scholar Dr. Scot McKnight has noted, the Pharisees were “democratizers” in the sense that they tried to make the Torah (Old Testament Law) practicable for all people, by interpreting and applying it. They had a strong emphasis on “doing” the law.

Pharisees opposed people who had different interpretations and practices of the Torah. This led them into conflict with John the Baptist, Jesus and his followers, and with others who differed from them (like the Sadducees). They thought they were right in their interpretations, which gives us some insight to the passage above—Nicodemus, a highly respected elder, talks with Jesus and is confounded (vs. 4) after Jesus tells him he must be “born again," or "born from above." Nicodemus had started the conversation claiming that he understood who Jesus was, and that he knew God must be with him. In other words, he was claiming to "see," but Jesus tells him that no one can "see" the kingdom of God without being born again.

Thinking about how confident the Pharisees were in their understanding makes me think not only of over-confident religious leaders today, but also of the general over-confidence and certainty displayed in our cultural dialogue around social and political hot topics. Just observe how people talk about coronavirus, mask-wearing, confederate flags, NASCAR, sports team logos, racism, statues, police, election year, mail-in voting… you name it—we all seem to be experts. We’re so confident in the narratives we believe about these things that we argue and fight to show how right we are and how wrong “they” are. It just recycles and furthers our division. It gets us nowhere.

As Luke Skywalker told Emperor Palpatine in Episode 6, "Your overconfidence is your weakness..."

What is fascinating about this passage in John 3, is that Jesus is calling Nicodemus (a very well educated and wise person) to a new level of consciousness, one guided by the Spirit. I’m sure Nicodemus had boatloads of evidence and well-crafted arguments for his views. He could have backed everything he believed with chapter and verse from the Torah. Yet Jesus is inviting him to a whole different way of seeing and knowing (vs. 3), a way that is compared to the wind blowing “wherever it pleases” (vs. 8). One can understand the confusion Nicodemus felt (vs. 9). I'm guessing the language of wind blowing "wherever it pleases" sounded a little less reliable than the rock solid theological and philosophical arguments he had learned to rely on.

We often feel threatened when our views are challenged, because we've invested ourselves in them and our identities are wrapped up in how right we are. So if our identity feels threatened we’re immediately defensive and we often stop listening to anyone who disagrees with us. Wisdom, however, teaches us that we never stop learning, and that means we keep listening, growing, and changing—unless, of course, we are so self-assured that we get to a point where we can’t really learn anymore, and just focus on defending what we already think. But that's probably when we stop listening to Truth.

Nicodemus ended up learning from, and ultimately following Jesus (see John 19:39). I have no doubt that came at a great cost to him. He may have lost his status as a great teacher among his peers, some of his family and friends, his income, and perhaps other things. He had to become like a child again, ready to relearn everything he thought he knew. He had to take the posture of a listener and a learner, rather than an expert. Yet, he could have easily been too self-assured to listen, clinging to what he already believed and had long defended. After all, he was "Israel's teacher" (vs. 10).

Imagine the change that could happen to our culture if we had the humility to listen, become like children, and change like Nicodemus. What if we held the things we are so sure about with an open hand, not wrapping our identity up inside of our political or religious beliefs, as if they defined who we are, but having the posture of a curious learner/student? That is, after all, the definition of a disciple. Does a learner/student who listens to the Spirit (which blows wherever it pleases) sound like someone who spends all their time defending what they already believe?

The Pharisees spent a lot of time opposing people with different views, but Nicodemus found that whole way of doing things to be sorely lacking after he met Jesus. Maybe, if we became like curious children, we would find ourselves being born into a new way of seeing.

Reflections on Losing a Beloved Pet

I've had a lot of pets in my life.

The first one I ever had, and also the first one I ever lost, was my cat Boots. We lost him when I was just a young kid. I remember my dad telling us after we had finished dinner, that our neighbor had found him after he had been missing for several days. We all cried at the table.

Since then, I've had multiple hamsters, a box turtle, some bugs, several guinea pigs, a few fish, another cat, and a couple dogs. Most of these pets weren't all that special, and therefore not that big of a loss. But my wife and I have had our two dogs since early into our marriage, and our 4 kids have not known life without them. But one of our beloved dogs, Diesel, developed kidney disease and had to be put down today as his suffering and quality of life were getting pretty bad. 

Diesel was a special dog to us. We got him at the animal shelter about 11 years ago, after he had been abandoned somewhere in a field. He was a mix of dachshund and something else, and he was absolutely terrified when I first met him and brought him home. I don't know that he ever really recovered from being left in the field, as he behaved like a scavenging survivor all the years we had him. He would regularly look to steal food from our other dog, from the kids, off the table if he could reach it--anywhere, really. He just seemed to always be afraid he wouldn't have enough. And it's not like he didn't get enough to eat--we had to put him on a diet more than once, after he had eaten his way to looking like a plump sausage with little stubby legs.

He was known for his "guilty" look. He always looked like he was hiding something, like he had done something wrong and he knew it. It always made us laugh, because he rarely looked like he was able to relax. If you said his name, even in a gentle and loving way, he'd never make direct eye contact. Poor thing... he just never felt totally safe I guess.

And he was quite the wuss when it came to thunderstorms or loud noises, and he never wanted to stay outside. He'd often run to his kennel or to the couch when we told him it was time to go out and go potty. Then if you came to physically pick him up and take him outside, he'd flip over on his back and submit, but if you got too close he'd sprinkler pee everywhere. Usually, that was a no win situation and we just let him be for a few minutes so we didn't get pee on everything.

But he ended up becoming the most friendly, gentle, harmless dog you can imagine. He'd snuggle with you on the couch, always being careful not to disturb you too much. He really liked laying around a lot, especially as he got older. I think he was always deeply afraid, but we loved him a lot. We'll miss you, Diesel. Maybe in dog heaven, you can finally relax.

Grace in the Darkness

Feeling down today?

Here, let me read you a positive, encouraging word from the scriptures:

The Psalmist declares:

“I am overwhelmed with troubles and my life draws near to death. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am like one without strength. I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care. You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths…

…Why, Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?… You have taken from me friend and neighbor— darkness is my closest friend.” 

-(Psalm 88:3-6, 14, 18)

This whole Psalm is one big Debbie Downer... Waaah, Waaaaaahhh!!!

It just ends like that, with no hope: 

“Darkness is my closest friend."

Uh... what? Why is this in the Bible? Is that supposed to encourage me?

Actually, I am really glad that there are scriptures like this in the Bible because it validates the experience of so many people who find themselves in a dark night of the soul.

Christians who experience this often feel deep shame and fear, and don’t feel safe talking about it. Why? Because we've often been trained to interpret this experience with the belief that we are somehow blowing it, that God is perhaps punishing us, and that if we were really spiritual, we wouldn’t have such experiences but would always be full of joy and charisma, always feel close to God, always have a positive "I can do it!" mentality, etc.

Strangely, particularly in the Protestant tradition, we have often eliminated the suffering and loneliness of the cross from our expected spiritual journey, so that we end up feeling guilty and surprised when it comes to us (see 1 Peter 4:12, 1 John 3:13). Triumphalist theology combined with an idealistic success narrative creates a mindset that doesn't have room for darkness or weakness, unless it's a mild kind that you can quickly fix.

Serving in the roles of pastor and chaplain, I’ve heard countless stories over the years of people who have walked through a dark night of the soul—sometimes lasting years— and felt terrifying doubts, wondered if God even exists, even walked away from faith because of it. I have been through a significant dark night myself, and I can say I understand why people walk away.

But the experience wouldn't be such a crisis if more people would admit that it's part of their journey, and that it's normal--even expected--that such times will come.

What’s so powerful about the scriptures is that they are so relatable to all the experiences of being human. A hopeless lament Psalm like this one shows that even if we experience such things, we are not outside the graces of God. For God’s grace does not depend on our ability to always perceive it, but on the character of who God is.

I read a few years ago that there are teeny, tiny particles of light that basically fill the entire universe, called neutrinos. They have almost no mass and no electric charge, and are very hard to pin down—sometimes called “ghost particles.” But even the deepest, darkest, emptiest space in the universe is filled with them.

If you hold your hand up to the sun for 1 second, a billion of them will pass through your hand. It’s this totally unperceived reality, yet it is everywhere. 

That’s the grace of God in Psalm 88.

I hope that encourages you, that whether or not you can perceive God’s goodness and grace in this moment, he promised to never leave or forsake us, and to be with us even to the end of the age.

You are never alone and never forsaken. Walk by faith, not by sight, because you can trust the Grace in the darkness.