Fasting

Discipline may be best served as you do the thing you know when you don't know what to do.

I have decided to fast on Sundays for the foreseeable future. Fasting has never been a huge part of my spiritual journey. Occassionally I will give up something for Lent or shut down the media stream into my life. But there is a part of me that grows concerned when their is something that potentially masters me. I have given up most carbonation, table salt, sugar in my coffee and sex on Tuesdays (just kidding about the sex - Tuesdays are a great day for it.)

It isn't that I believe food owns me. But I do sometimes wonder if gluttony (be it food or anything else) attacks my spirit. So I am resolved to fast on Sundays. I'll let you know how it goes.

Life is a Desert...

"The soul will certainly suffer great trials at this time, especially if the devil sees that its character and habits are such that it (the soul) is ready to make further progress: all the powers of hell will combine to drive it back again. That is why it is very important for us to associate with others who are where we are in the journey, but also those who have gone farther. Those who have drawn close to God have the ability to bring us closer to him, for in a sense they take us with them." Teresa of Avila

"Take away that absolute (the infallibility of scripture) and you've opened an unpluggable hole in your theological dike." Charles Swindoll

"Life is a desert...be refreshed." (Lifted from the track I received from Southern Hills Baptist Church five minutes ago as they knocked on my door)


It was 25 degrees this morning as I got in the car. For the desert valley, this is the coldest stretch in almost five years. I am familiar with the steps to take during a deep freeze. First, make sure to wrap any exposed exterior piping (or at least turn the facet on a drip). Second, bring in warm weaher plants. Third, bring in any pets. And lastly, wear layers of clothing if you brave the outside.

So as I loaded on my layers, I was reminded of a private conversation with Tom Clegg this week. As I retraced some of the steps of my journey, he suggested I spend a while with Teresa of Avila - a 16C nun from Spain who was one of the spiritual guides for St. John of the Cross. She writes using the metaphor of a castle to describe the progress of the spiritual life. As you enter the first room, the emotive responses of prayer and spiritual practice are easily encountered. But in subsequent rooms of challenge and crisis as you progress to the interior of the castle, "feeling" connected to God escapes you. In fact, your discipline seems met with suffering not comfort. Why is it we retreat to the discipline of prayer and reading scripture when we discover it is winter in the desert? Because we desire to retreat to that first room. But once those doors of shut, we are not to return.

Paul says in Ephesians that those mature in their faith should feed themselves. Teresa seems to add that such a diet does not yield the same "good feeling" as the tasty kid's menu. All to say, I join with Richard Foster's analysis that he struggles to read Teresa of Avila.

However, I appreciate greatly her tie between spiritual progress and a communal journey. We were not intended to walk alone.

The last few entries from Swindoll have been less engaging. Albeit the above quote snagged my attention. I do not mean to suggest that the Bible is anything but true and dependable. But my soul shivers when I think of God - his ways, his promises, his dreams - as a collection of premises that build a theological dike. Even Chuck's summation, that people are fallible and the Bible is not, seems ironic when you consider the "infallibility of scripture" (a total human statement and concept) is the chief material used to build theological dikes.

"Thud, thud, thud." Just as my fingers began to type these thoughts, I hear the noise at the door. Thinking Wendy has returned, I go to the door to find two guys - wearing layers of course - offering me a colorful picture of footprints on the sand saying "Life is a desert..." They introduce themselves as somebody and his friend somebody else. They are from Southern Hills Baptist Church and would love for me and my family to join them this Sunday. As I politely sent them on their way, I opened this familiar track offering the cure to the desert life being spiritual refreshment. "If you find that external solutions are not meeting the deepest needs of your life, then be refreshed - truly refreshed - at Southern Hills Baptist Church this Sunday!"

Of course, to know that I am going to heaven, there are five things that I must know and one thing I must do. First on the list - The Bible is true. It is the Word of God. Infallible. Like a battering ram budgeoning its way into my soul. Surely, just the way Jesus intended.

You know what happens when a dike breaks near the desert? It floods the valley. It refreshes the land. It allows the nutrients for life to bloom again. For sure it can damage all the stuff that we build, but isn't that part of it. Valleys have been flooding as the normal course of life every spring from the beginning, bringing rebirth to the desert floor below.

"Let the river flow. Let the river flow. Holy Spirit come. Move in power."

May our theological dikes burst that our lives might once again be truly refreshed.

Idols, Offerings and Bigness

Superstition reigns. I am fairly surprised as to how much superstition is evident in my life. Probably important to distinguish between routine and habit versus superstition, but as I watch the college bowls, I see myself holding the computer a certain way or sitting in a certain spot hoping good things will happen (obviously good for my routing interest). But what struck me more than the danger of superstition was the actual Bible passage 1 John 5:21 "Children, don't give in to idols." The truth is idolatry is the true danger.

What are the idols in my life? What are those things that have made their way to God-like status? And how to I pay homage to them?

Swindoll addresses "Offerings" a couple of chapters later. He is old school in his description of the practical workings of modern church and the passing of the plate. But again, his biblical reference refers to time and how we use it.

I would dare say that the form of homage that I submit to the idols in my life is time. I give my time to many things that do not deserve such a precious resource.

It has been a life long goal to be free of any addictions. I gave up extra table salt several years past. Following that I added soda and carbonated drinks to that list. Last year was extra sugar added to anything. (You would be amazed at how you adjust to the bland flavor of a non-fat latte with nothing added). Most people I know who give up the sugar replace it with some sugar substitute which I am convinced will eventually prove out to be even worse. But it speaks to the hold that sweetness has on the normal person's palate. I believe that is how idolatry works - when you find yourself changing the style without changing the actual substance of something, (i.e. Nicotine gum for the smoking addict, only a social drink for the alcoholic, a mere reference for the habitual gossip, just a quick glance for the porn addict, just one bet for the gambler) idolatry rules.

This year I want to consider where idolatry may be trying to take root in my life and family and I want to stamp it out before it grows to deep. I plan to give up something - not so much for the specific sacrifice, but as a fresh, constant reminder that I do not want to be given to idols.

Which bring us to Swindoll's account of the John Stennis shooting and the devotional act of his political counterpart, Mark Hatfield. Swindoll describes bigness as "being free of grudges, pettiness, vengeance and prejudice." I hope to replace idolatry with bigness - to fill the gaping hole of false allegiance with "authentic love, expressing itself in compassion, fairness, willingness to support, and when possible coming to the aid of another." Why? Just because I believe it is ultimately a better way to live.

Lust & Apathy

It was interesting to read again about Sampson. I always viewed him as a fallen hero who made one mistake, let down his guard. But it seems Sampson's fall was predicatable when you view the trajectory of his life. I, too, could make a list of those I know (or know of) who have fallen sexually. It is the training of my father, his rules of life, that have kept me from finding myself in dark places at the wrong time. But I find that I need to refresh and recommit myself to that discipline. Half steps toward the line, allowing temptation to be too accessible and the lines become blurred. I can make sure that I never cheat on my wife and family. It is the consistent series of small choices (a Long Obedience in the Same Direction - thanks Eugene) that will allow me to keep that promise.

I do have a spiritual question. Above, I almost used the phrase, "let the enemy in." Often times the Devil gets a great deal of blame. In our quest to rediscover God, I recognize we must hold some thought or belief of the Satan. How active is he? Is there really a war taking place in a spiriutal realm all around us (i.e. This Present Darkness - thanks Frank)? There are times in my life where I remember believing this realm existed and feeling as if I was in a real war with it. I wonder if I do not feel that now because it was never there to begin with or if I have been neutralized with apathy.

Which brings me to Troy's message this past week and my email rant that perhaps led me to some degree of personal revelation or discovery. The pertinent parts of the email follow:


I think the best stuff on this (Simeon's faith) comes from Mark when Jesus has the kids come to him and says you need childlike faith and immediately following we get the story of the rich young ruler exercising a grown-up faith. I have a list I carry in my bible that distinguishes a childlike faith from a grown-up faith - things like simple vs complicated, etc

The punch line is that grown-up faith is growing the wrong direction. No accident the two stories juxtaposed.

Another thought is to examine the source of apathy. Why do people become apathetic? Seinfeld is a show about nothing (brilliantly written I might add). Perhaps it is a style and substance is issue. So much of our lives becomes about style. Image is everything. Anti-style is style. Details magazine this month talked about how GenX have become the new yuppies. You tree huggers up there taking the christmas trees out of the airport (which is definitely your opening current events line "they put the christmas trees back in the airport" and wait for the applause) have a tree huggers style.

Our collective issue is we lack substance. (Which is also the difference between grape juice and wine I might add). We're not bad people to get caught in the trappings of the season or when we fall prey to the advertisers. We're just shallow. It is easier to go along and not stretch ourselves than dig for something deeper. When you lack substance as a human being, why would you care about anything. Wars are fought on tv screens. It's not that we can't tell the difference between movie tragedy and real life, we just don't care anymore.

So why then should christmas be more than presents and egg nog (even really good eggnog)?? The crazy thing about Simeon is that after all these years, he still cared. He still sought after something of substance. So much so that he knew it when it saw it (the official court definition of pornography).

So how did he at the right moment have this epiphany? Because every morning he expected it. "Come thou long awaited promise" the carol rings out. Who was waiting? Simeon was. He didn't just at that moment say "aha" (although sometimes that happens). He fought apathy with the discipline of expectation. That's it.

The discipline of expectation. Everyday expecting God to do something. Even when we don't see it and even when we can't feel it, we still expect it. It opens us up to or unlocks the world of substance.

If this Christmas is going to be like last Christmas then why not be apathetic. But if I expect that today God may do something incredible then I expect that this Christmas is the perfect time for God to do something incredible.

We get that we it comes to terrorism. Every sept 11 and holiday, the national alert color goes up. Awareness rises. Our officials expect something will happen because it is the perfect time for it. But they also expect something could happen every day. Apathy could kill us all.

JL




The discipline of expectation - I would like us to think further about that. Perhaps that is part of what we've lost.

Working on it

I, too, have fallen behind. Part is traveling. I have spent only two nights in my own bed since committing. I have managed three other readings. One thing did strike me from It's About Time. I keep two lists - one personal, one business. I number those list partly just to remind myself how busy I am. Two observations: 1 - I like the lists. They give me some of my meaning and confidence that I am accomplishing something. I'm not sure this is good. 2 - I like what swindoll says about numbering the list based on priority. That's part of what is missing in this whole God search. What is priority for my life? How do I arrange life around what really matters? How do I decide what really matters? Those are some of my most recent thoughts.

Escaping Winter

My last couple of years back East, Baltimore had more snow than Buffalo. I have distinct memories, sitting down in my cool basement with snow 3-4 feet high outside my back window. I remember sitting there chilled to the bone. I thought for a while I had seasonal depression.

It seemed the world would slow down so much bound by the frozen ground. At first snow, I was charmed by the winter. Some of my best memories are of walking around at night in the fresh covering of snow. There is a strange warmth and any light is reflected and illuminates all the darkness around you. But then come the days and weeks afterward as the frigid, fierce wind would blow and the snow would turn black from mixing with the dirt of the day. And it seemed as if it would never go away.

January of 2004 I moved my whole family to Las Vegas. That winter was colder than I expected. But our family rallied together to battle loneliness. God provided friends to provide companionship. And the sun's warmth was inescapable. I believed I had left the effects of the winter behind for good.

Until March of 2006, I had known very little winter in my time in Vegas. But winter's oppression returned. It had been so long since our last encounter that I did not recognize winter. It did not follow its past patterns. It was if it had been searching for me, saving its brutal blast until it would find me hiding in the desert. And for the past months, C.S. Lewis' White Witch has ruled over the land I occupy in my soul.

Swindoll writes:

"But there is something strangely solitary about winter. Altogether unlike the other three seasons, winter pleads for companionship...Just as the calendar cannot skip those bone-chilling months, we cannot escape these barren days! Prisoners in our own dungeons of discourgement, loneliness, and spiritual impotence, we struggle to keep our equilibrum...to make sense out of such apparent insanity. It seems as though God has forever sealed shut the storm windows and drawn the drapes on hope and happiness."

I resonate with some of those words. I would also add apathy, frustration, doubt. I have not seen significant snow in years, but I find myself looking out the back window of my soul to see that the snow is once again piled up 3-4 feet. The White Witch reigns.

But...I hear that Aslan is on the move.