Imagine a girl wearing a white gown. She steps into the moving waters below a waterfall. Surrounding her are names and faces who smile back at her, proud of her. To her left stand her parents who have waited for this moment since the beginning of her existence, her mom wiping the mascara from her face. The girl holds the laminated paper in front of her face and tries to speak to the whole world. Instead, she begins sobbing.
Because, of course, her sobbing tells the truth of what is happening to her and what she deeply feels. She can’t contain herself and why should she? We hear her sobs in silence. It’s awkward for us watching. Nobody wants to see someone cry in public, and we pity her because she’s nervous, humiliated, or something. But then it stirs the truth of our inner world as we watch her. Her panting, convulsing crying transcends her experience and even our own--waiting for her to make sense of the silence so we don’t have to. Within her world she knows that what she is about to do will define and change her forever. For whatever reason, she’s decided to be baptized and when we ask for a speech all she can muster are the sobs of her tiny soul. When she finally gets to her formally written “profession of faith” her words are more mute than her tears. So she sobs. The older lady next to me joins her. The mom’s face gathers fresh mascara. Because whatever she’s sobbing after we all are feeling, and she just has the guts to tell the truth of it in her baptism.
I’ve always believed that the day someone is baptized is the day where that person is marked for the rest of their life. That person is owned, bought, purchased, redeemed, and everything else that comes with those words and their meaning. And so, in a sense, they are also dead to their old life and entering a new one.
When Jesus told men and women to follow him, he usually asked them for something. “Give it up” might be more appropriate. He tells a rich man to sell everything he owns. Sell the swiss bank account, the portfolio, and all the assets with it, and then give it to the bums, homeless, and lazy ones then, “Follow me”. He tells everyone else to carry a torture device around them and dares them to eat his flesh and drink his blood if they want to even have the name “Christian”. It all sounds frustrating, psychotic elusive, cannibalistic, and disgusting. On this side of paradise, we can only see the glass darkly and can only try to take Jesus at his words. But that seems impossible. Jesus leaves us confused, mad, disappointed, or apathetic to the whole thing. But I wonder if we really should smile at it. We shouldn’t smile for the words, but because somehow we can’t make those things happen. Only with God are all things possible. It might be great if Jesus says these things, but to really listen to them is about the same thing as listening to a tiny girl sobbing before her transformation into new life.
“Buried in the likeness of his death...” Salvation is a requiem that transforms into a hallelujah chorus. The invitation to everyone is very similar--death to life. The death Jesus refers to, first and foremost, is his own. Whatever ethical, theological, or convenient ideas we conjure about Jesus and his teachings are turned upside down when he dangles by nails on two pieces of wood, saying more with the blood dripping down his body than words could begin to say. Somehow that love reverberates through eternity into the sobs of a tiny 16 year old girl in a white gown about to descend into her own hell. Before she holds her last breath I wonder if her entire life until that point flashes through her mind before the back of her head smacks the surface of the water. Whatever life she had before her descent will be dangling on a cross waiting for her upon descent, and maybe she sobs because, somewhere within, she can see it all in front of her. Some traditions renounce Satan before this moment, and I believe this brave girl saw Satan and renounced him during her burial.
“Raised to walk in newness of life...” are the words often said on the way up the other side of paradise. Her small head lifted up out of the water with these words given to describe something new. And they are important words. Because with Jesus death is never experienced or discussed apart from the victory of resurrection. Death is necessary, but only because it’s through the cross that God reveals the true identity of who we are--dangling on a tree, but praying to God for resurrection. It is also true that only through the cross of Christ could we even see him for who he truly is, and only through that cross could she begin to see herself for who she truly is. It doesn’t appear ideal, but it really is the best possible way God revealed himself to all humanity and to reveal ourselves to us. But the grave didn’t contain Him and I suspect it didn’t contain this girl either.His resurrection wipes every tear from her eyes and soaks her entire soul in the newness of life in the Spirit. “Jesus is Lord” and she sees that in a new, eternal, and fresh way. She smiled as she rose from the water, realizing that, perhaps for that moment, her life was new. Of course her life is new in the eternal sense, but the gift of baptism is to see it or look back on it and remember the truth and reality of redemption in the present.
Somehow a smile cracked upon my face and the faces of all around me. Somehow we got it because it had gotten us. Redemption in Christ raised her from the deadness of the submersion, to the first breath out of hell. We were there with her and she brought all of us into her world to celebrate it. She opened her eyes to the entire faith family laughing, smiling, and celebrating with her. I bet she saw heaven. Revelation was right before her eyes, and I felt a small stream of water around my eyes, perhaps from my own baptism.
“Buried in the likeness of his death...Raised to walk in newness of life”
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Thursday, October 13, 2011
A Month and A Half Later
I arrived home over a month ago from Yellowstone National Park. Truthfully, I wasted no time returning to school, jobs, and beginning an internship. My head spun as one of my best friends got married. The work and fun have already left me tired with a head coming to grips with a different reality than the one from this summer.
I’ve tried to process the entire experience, but find my present world so tiring that I only sit back and sometimes reminisce. I looked through pictures but felt very little. I’m not sure the pace of school has allowed a proper process of remembrance from the world of Bison, Bears, and terrible drivers. I’ve driven through South Dakota again, saw the glorious peaks of the Tetons on screens, and saw bubbling mud volcanoes in my mind. Nothing really changed or struck me—until tonight.
The posted picture shows mountains Kyle and I first saw driving towards Mammoth to the North entrance into the park. They were covered in snow in May, but were all dried up by the summer season. I so badly wish to see them again not because of their beauty (which captured my initial attention), but to smile and reunite with them. I saw those mountains often and failed to notice them because of their familiarity. But to see those mountains again evokes a strange longing to return to a very specific (and significant) existence in my life.
They were home.
I’m not sure where all of this leads, but wanting to return to a home, even for three short months, means something significant. Sometimes feelings and desires inform us of our understanding of God, self, and others. Whether we realize it or not, God calls us home where he knows we belong, find acceptance, and love. I don’t mean to make God the divine therapist, but the very doctrine of the incarnation shows that he stepped into the human experience to woo us to himself. He literally gave himself to us in the most intimate way possible. So as God created Yellowstone, he had in mind the billions who would see it and feel awe and beauty. He paints the picture, writes the poem, and desperately tries to get the attention of the ones he loves. His creation points to the relationship he desires with his people. Beauty reveals the imagination of God.
The amazement is not even in the beauty though. Instead, it’s from the ability to enter into that imagination intimately with him. What makes reflecting on Yellowstone so wonderful is the ability to recall actual experiences God gave me. I hiked through painted meadows. The people I lived with were my family, and bison were my big, nasty, ugly pets. I also wouldn’t claim bears as inherently evil, but I certainly wouldn’t call them snuggly either. I can still smell sulfur from the “thermal features”, and can hear the majesty of Old Faithful going off. I can feel the pant in my lungs from climbing Electric and I can hear the laughs of “Funday Mondays”. The last one seems strange because I don’t really laugh much on Mondays anymore.
In the remembering, however, I can still feel the anxiety. I can even feel the tears of working through personal depression, and the wiping away of those tears by God’s divine hand. The spectrum of experience involved far more than a summer adventure—it was a personal tale of God’s redemption story. It was my experience of the reconciliation of God. The place, people, and experience all point to the reality of this place where God says we’re redeemed to actually redeeming me.
Redemption cannot be discussed or experienced apart from the context of relationship with God. The broad context discussed in Scripture is the very context our lives enter into when we follow Christ. In those mountains I grew taller, walked further, related better, and felt the embrace of God in the water falls of Canyon. I still miss my community from there because they helped see and encourage parts of me that I never knew existed. They supported me, they pushed me, they laughed with me, and they invested in the fellowship that God designed. I can look back because the experience pushed me forward. When I see the mountains, I see God’s redemption in a way that is both real and personal. I see the Gospel in the Gallatin forest. I see Creation in the Canyon. Within my friendships, I see love. And I remember.
I remember what it felt like to be there. I remember redemption as a part of my life in Christ. Redemption was meant to happen to us. Part of our salvation is God working out his truth of the Gospel in our lives by the Holy Spirit—by giving himself to us. God’s faithfulness and love supersedes present realities and presses us on in a tangible way. I remember the mountains. I remember home. I see the picture, but I know it too—even now. And, in a sense, I remember and see myself in redemption fully realized. I can remember and hope. He has been faithful and he will be forever.
If I was with you this summer, you are missed and remembered, thanks for everything,
LTDA,
Trey
Sunday, July 31, 2011
The Middle
Update: Sorry I haven’t updated. Truthfully, I’ve been busy with work, but the main reason was because I read ‘Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis (A good read, pick it up). The month of July has flown. I can’t believe August is here. I’ve also spent my free time trying to write sermons, buy plane tickets for weddings, and try to finish this summer strongly.
Also, great news, my dad and little sister came to visit! They were here for a few days and headed out today to head back home.
My days off were also fantastic for July. On the fourth, I lost cell phone service and Internet without any sure plans to celebrate. That morning, however, a friend from the Lake team knocked on the door and said, ‘grab your stuff, we’re going rafting’. Half asleep, I smiled and went. It was definitely one of the highlights of the summer. I also went to the Tetons twice this month. The first time I went with Kyle as a planned trip from May. It was our first day off since heading out here so we decided to take the opportunity to catch up and relax. We hiked Paintbrush Canyon, and saw some incredible sights there and in Jackson. I would post pictures, but Internet here takes forever (and is actually one reason for the delay of post).
The next week I went back with ACMNP people and hiked Cascade Canyon. It was amazing. The Yellowstone staff is so amazing here it’s hard to express how much they really mean to me. At one point we all left the trail and climbed some rocks to stand just outside of the canyon. On the rock, we sang hymns and actually just looked quietly at God’s creation—entering into worship again. It was beautiful. Then, we had dinner in Jackson, ice cream, walking around Jackson, and then back to work.
Everything with the job goes well, it just consumes a lot of time in the day. I’ve learned a great deal about interacting with various personalities and also serving people with the right attitude. It’s been an eye-opening experience to interact with people on that level and see my lack of patience, the excruciating process of admitting my failure, asking forgiveness, and moving on.
Our services have been fantastic out here. The people who come and the quality of the services have grown throughout. I love the people we meet during the services. Both of our own non-seminarians preached and did a fantastic job on Galatians 5:1-15 and Psalm 40. Again, the team God placed out here is tremendous and it is the highest honor to know and work with them. So, I have had the last week off so others could preach. I have helped prepare one of the sermons.
It’s really a joy to watch your education pay off for the benefits of others. Preaching and leading worship in the parks is a tremendous experience I won’t forget. Please continue to pray for us as we enter into the last third of our time here.
Reflection—The Middle
Recently I realized I’m a over halfway through the summer—in the middle. The feeling sits like a weight in my stomach. Time swirls around me like a dustbowl that blinds the eyes and hardens the imagination of hopefulness. The end hasn’t begun, and the beginning is ending—the middle.
If we break out lives into small enough unites, we will see that the time can be partitioned into beginning and endings. The beginning of something new always brings excitement. A new job, new relationship, etc. But beginnings also have endings. These beginnings also begin new responsibilities, tasks, and everything else that stresses us out (that’s the middle). But beginnings also have endings. The end is beautiful because the ending is accomplishment. But sometimes it’s pain, frustration, confusion, and a bleary-eyed stare into nothingness or a wandering eye into despair.
But the middle—that’s tricky.
Many compare life to a journey and cry, ‘the journey is the reward’. I would agree and disagree. The reward is the end, hopefully. A journey with no end rewards the wanderer, but never the homesick. Only the homesick are satisfied when the end of the journey comes. But the journey does have rewards. When we begin something, we are expected to hike through the terrain and ford the rivers, and to actually do them brings more courage, hope, faith and, hopefully, love. The process is painful and wonderful, but also necessary.
For the Christian, life began in God’s work throughout time, and, specifically, the Cross of Jesus Christ. The beginning is our own life into death of self, and new resurrection through the power of the Holy Spirit. The end is the new creation, the new home, the unadulterated presence of God forever.
But the middle.
For now, it’s Yellowstone. It’s seminary. It’s whatever opportunities God conjures. It’s singleness. It’s friendships and jobs. It’s the guiding of the Holy Spirit, it’s the growth of our love with God so when we get home we see him as he is with no more masks. It’s the death of the flesh everyday (seriously? Everyday?). It’s Christ sanctifying us with his blood. The middle is the place where God calls us to follow him for all eternity—now.
And so we embrace the middle because it is a part our life in Christ.
God gives eternal context to the middle. Though burdens we bear, along the way, what offers the context is God himself. He gives us the middle to live in, seek his face, and know him better than we could imagine.
So, I guess the journey is the reward.
Love and miss you all, see ya soon ☺
LTDA,
Trey
Also, great news, my dad and little sister came to visit! They were here for a few days and headed out today to head back home.
My days off were also fantastic for July. On the fourth, I lost cell phone service and Internet without any sure plans to celebrate. That morning, however, a friend from the Lake team knocked on the door and said, ‘grab your stuff, we’re going rafting’. Half asleep, I smiled and went. It was definitely one of the highlights of the summer. I also went to the Tetons twice this month. The first time I went with Kyle as a planned trip from May. It was our first day off since heading out here so we decided to take the opportunity to catch up and relax. We hiked Paintbrush Canyon, and saw some incredible sights there and in Jackson. I would post pictures, but Internet here takes forever (and is actually one reason for the delay of post).
The next week I went back with ACMNP people and hiked Cascade Canyon. It was amazing. The Yellowstone staff is so amazing here it’s hard to express how much they really mean to me. At one point we all left the trail and climbed some rocks to stand just outside of the canyon. On the rock, we sang hymns and actually just looked quietly at God’s creation—entering into worship again. It was beautiful. Then, we had dinner in Jackson, ice cream, walking around Jackson, and then back to work.
Everything with the job goes well, it just consumes a lot of time in the day. I’ve learned a great deal about interacting with various personalities and also serving people with the right attitude. It’s been an eye-opening experience to interact with people on that level and see my lack of patience, the excruciating process of admitting my failure, asking forgiveness, and moving on.
Our services have been fantastic out here. The people who come and the quality of the services have grown throughout. I love the people we meet during the services. Both of our own non-seminarians preached and did a fantastic job on Galatians 5:1-15 and Psalm 40. Again, the team God placed out here is tremendous and it is the highest honor to know and work with them. So, I have had the last week off so others could preach. I have helped prepare one of the sermons.
It’s really a joy to watch your education pay off for the benefits of others. Preaching and leading worship in the parks is a tremendous experience I won’t forget. Please continue to pray for us as we enter into the last third of our time here.
Reflection—The Middle
Recently I realized I’m a over halfway through the summer—in the middle. The feeling sits like a weight in my stomach. Time swirls around me like a dustbowl that blinds the eyes and hardens the imagination of hopefulness. The end hasn’t begun, and the beginning is ending—the middle.
If we break out lives into small enough unites, we will see that the time can be partitioned into beginning and endings. The beginning of something new always brings excitement. A new job, new relationship, etc. But beginnings also have endings. These beginnings also begin new responsibilities, tasks, and everything else that stresses us out (that’s the middle). But beginnings also have endings. The end is beautiful because the ending is accomplishment. But sometimes it’s pain, frustration, confusion, and a bleary-eyed stare into nothingness or a wandering eye into despair.
But the middle—that’s tricky.
Many compare life to a journey and cry, ‘the journey is the reward’. I would agree and disagree. The reward is the end, hopefully. A journey with no end rewards the wanderer, but never the homesick. Only the homesick are satisfied when the end of the journey comes. But the journey does have rewards. When we begin something, we are expected to hike through the terrain and ford the rivers, and to actually do them brings more courage, hope, faith and, hopefully, love. The process is painful and wonderful, but also necessary.
For the Christian, life began in God’s work throughout time, and, specifically, the Cross of Jesus Christ. The beginning is our own life into death of self, and new resurrection through the power of the Holy Spirit. The end is the new creation, the new home, the unadulterated presence of God forever.
But the middle.
For now, it’s Yellowstone. It’s seminary. It’s whatever opportunities God conjures. It’s singleness. It’s friendships and jobs. It’s the guiding of the Holy Spirit, it’s the growth of our love with God so when we get home we see him as he is with no more masks. It’s the death of the flesh everyday (seriously? Everyday?). It’s Christ sanctifying us with his blood. The middle is the place where God calls us to follow him for all eternity—now.
And so we embrace the middle because it is a part our life in Christ.
God gives eternal context to the middle. Though burdens we bear, along the way, what offers the context is God himself. He gives us the middle to live in, seek his face, and know him better than we could imagine.
So, I guess the journey is the reward.
Love and miss you all, see ya soon ☺
LTDA,
Trey
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Truth Will Set You Free
Info Update:
Sorry it’s been so long. My mind has been occupied with the first week of services, tiredness, and work.
Summer finally arrived in Yellowstone. Snow is slowly disappearing, and shorts are an acceptable clothing choice. The scenery here is beautiful and I’ve hiked a little bit since the last update. Bunsen Peak was a beautiful hike. We hiked up and basically slid down the mountain on the snow—yea, it was a blast.
I’ve also gone camping outside of the park and met some great people who work and live in Mammoth. The stars were incredible, and the company was good. Unfortunately, my sleeping bag would not zip up so I froze the entire night in the fetal position. The next day, I planned to hike Osprey Falls, but knew my body wouldn’t enjoy it. So, I slept.
Finally, it ended with a great community meal of kabobs and fruit salad. One of my favorite things to do is sit around a big dinner table with good friends to eat and talk. Afterwards, I met with the mentor to discuss goals for my ministry leadership class. Needless to say, my mentor here is an incredible person. He’s basically a cowboy and pastor in one. He wants to take Kyle and I on a horse-packing trip. Montana? Horse Trip? Yup, let’s make that one happen.
Since then, I’ve developed a nasty cold that’s exhausted me and made me congested. It’s not bad, and everybody has it, but it’s more annoying than handicapping.
I’ve continued working as expo and they want me to stay there for now. The only part of my job I don’t enjoy is the schedule. 12-2:30 and 5-10pm basically leaves early mornings for hikes, walks, reading, ministry work, sermon prep, etc. While I like the idea of getting up earlier, the body is taking longer to adjust.
We had our first full Sunday this past week. I preached twice and we had a great showing. It really is beautiful to worship in the parks like we do. The amphitheater is a gorgeous venue, and the people who come are wonderful. We can make transitions smoother, but overall, it went as well as it could. We have a great staff, and by God’s grace it’s coming together nicely.
Reflection: The Truth Shall Set You Free
No reflection: only Scripture this time. I can’t get these two verses out of my head together.
Thoughts? Perhaps we should reflect together.
‘And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free’—John 8:32
‘In him was life, and the life was the light of men’—John 1:4
Love you all and miss you madly,
LTDA,
Trey
Sorry it’s been so long. My mind has been occupied with the first week of services, tiredness, and work.
Summer finally arrived in Yellowstone. Snow is slowly disappearing, and shorts are an acceptable clothing choice. The scenery here is beautiful and I’ve hiked a little bit since the last update. Bunsen Peak was a beautiful hike. We hiked up and basically slid down the mountain on the snow—yea, it was a blast.
I’ve also gone camping outside of the park and met some great people who work and live in Mammoth. The stars were incredible, and the company was good. Unfortunately, my sleeping bag would not zip up so I froze the entire night in the fetal position. The next day, I planned to hike Osprey Falls, but knew my body wouldn’t enjoy it. So, I slept.
Finally, it ended with a great community meal of kabobs and fruit salad. One of my favorite things to do is sit around a big dinner table with good friends to eat and talk. Afterwards, I met with the mentor to discuss goals for my ministry leadership class. Needless to say, my mentor here is an incredible person. He’s basically a cowboy and pastor in one. He wants to take Kyle and I on a horse-packing trip. Montana? Horse Trip? Yup, let’s make that one happen.
Since then, I’ve developed a nasty cold that’s exhausted me and made me congested. It’s not bad, and everybody has it, but it’s more annoying than handicapping.
I’ve continued working as expo and they want me to stay there for now. The only part of my job I don’t enjoy is the schedule. 12-2:30 and 5-10pm basically leaves early mornings for hikes, walks, reading, ministry work, sermon prep, etc. While I like the idea of getting up earlier, the body is taking longer to adjust.
We had our first full Sunday this past week. I preached twice and we had a great showing. It really is beautiful to worship in the parks like we do. The amphitheater is a gorgeous venue, and the people who come are wonderful. We can make transitions smoother, but overall, it went as well as it could. We have a great staff, and by God’s grace it’s coming together nicely.
Reflection: The Truth Shall Set You Free
No reflection: only Scripture this time. I can’t get these two verses out of my head together.
Thoughts? Perhaps we should reflect together.
‘And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free’—John 8:32
‘In him was life, and the life was the light of men’—John 1:4
Love you all and miss you madly,
LTDA,
Trey
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Charismatic Chipmunks and Worship
No one showed up. The four of us, dressed in our Sunday’s best, stood amidst the trees. We had a cross sitting on a bench beside us. We had a sermon prepared, a guitar tuned, and an order of worship—no one. About 30 minutes before the service began, we circled around and prayed for whoever came. We waited, nothing.
As we waited for the service to start, I stood on a log, pacing back in forth with my hands in my coat pocket. I looked at the cloud covered mountains, and the trees with morning tears. I could hear birds singing and laughing around me. The trees stood in the color of life, and the streams in the valley ran smoothly. Then a thought occurred to me. Perhaps we were late for the worship service.
All around me, creation screamed and sang to God. If I stood still, I could hear the greenings of creation, but they sound like music. Since the fall, the song of creation is both a requiem and a hallelujah chorus. The trees creak and bend, the clouds hang in melancholy, and the streams run—tired and weary. Oh yea, creation worships and screams, Scripture says even the rocks cry out. There’s a pain in worship. Certainly there is a groaning in creation that we too often neglect in our human experience of worship. Too often it’s light smiles under heavy eyes, and a strong sense of ‘ok’ness. But if we look at creation, it groans. It feels the pain all too well and doesn’t mind sharing its pain with God. Yet, it knows and hopes for the return of Christ.
We have a ‘charismatic’ chipmunk that, to our ears, speaks in tongues every week during our pre-service prayer. Perhaps it’s speaking its own prayer language, but we know it worships with us every week. In fact, it always worships—everyday. Yes, our Pentecostal chipmunk is a fine example of hopeful worship. Even in the groaning is hopefulness. Why? Because creation knows the sons of God are being revealed. They cheer us on to worship, they have their invitation to worship, their hymns, their sermons, their offerings, their doxology and benediction.
If you listen to that chipmunk, it wants us to join.
‘Yes, join our worship! Take hope my human friends, we worship the living God. Yes, it’s painful for now, but we hope, we have a magnificent God! Look around you, our trees sway in dance, our streams run fast, our birds sing the chorus of salvation. He’s coming back! He’s restoring us again, praise be to God’
And then back to tongues.
Perhaps my view of worship is too thin.
As a Christian, and also a minister, I tend to make worship the thing humans do to entertain God. Every Sunday, churches fill with people who get up to praise and worship God. It’s a force they create, devise, and execute. We sing some songs, ‘get fed’, and go home tired. We fulfilled our duty, but no groaning or joy is felt—only dormant idleness. This is not worship because it lacks wonder.
Worship is not something we create, but something we step into. Like a river passing by, it flows whether or not we soak our toes in its cool wetness. All of creation is begging God for restoration of the new creation, and it always praises the God it serves. The ecological cycle of death and life, fall and spring, point to the reality of a fallen earth that worships God. When we worship, we join with them in groaning for the new creation, crying out to God for Christ’s return, hoping in the God of the universe. We step into the stream, we bathe in it, we let its waters pass through us. We feel the cool breeze. We join the wonder. We enter worship.
So whether we have 5 or 50, worship is happening. Whether we have a cute order of worship or not, it still continues. Why? Worship is for all creation, not just humans. It’s not something we create; it’s something we enter. It’s a world of wonder. It’s a groaning. I hardly view worship as groaning because I hardly see worship as a cry of my need for God. But now that I think about it, I feel the pain of creation. I feel the pain of fallenness, of groaning. I understand my chipmunk friend, the birds, the trees, the rivers, my fellow believers, and join them.
As we waited for the service to start, I stood on a log, pacing back in forth with my hands in my coat pocket. I looked at the cloud covered mountains, and the trees with morning tears. I could hear birds singing and laughing around me. The trees stood in the color of life, and the streams in the valley ran smoothly. Then a thought occurred to me. Perhaps we were late for the worship service.
All around me, creation screamed and sang to God. If I stood still, I could hear the greenings of creation, but they sound like music. Since the fall, the song of creation is both a requiem and a hallelujah chorus. The trees creak and bend, the clouds hang in melancholy, and the streams run—tired and weary. Oh yea, creation worships and screams, Scripture says even the rocks cry out. There’s a pain in worship. Certainly there is a groaning in creation that we too often neglect in our human experience of worship. Too often it’s light smiles under heavy eyes, and a strong sense of ‘ok’ness. But if we look at creation, it groans. It feels the pain all too well and doesn’t mind sharing its pain with God. Yet, it knows and hopes for the return of Christ.
We have a ‘charismatic’ chipmunk that, to our ears, speaks in tongues every week during our pre-service prayer. Perhaps it’s speaking its own prayer language, but we know it worships with us every week. In fact, it always worships—everyday. Yes, our Pentecostal chipmunk is a fine example of hopeful worship. Even in the groaning is hopefulness. Why? Because creation knows the sons of God are being revealed. They cheer us on to worship, they have their invitation to worship, their hymns, their sermons, their offerings, their doxology and benediction.
If you listen to that chipmunk, it wants us to join.
‘Yes, join our worship! Take hope my human friends, we worship the living God. Yes, it’s painful for now, but we hope, we have a magnificent God! Look around you, our trees sway in dance, our streams run fast, our birds sing the chorus of salvation. He’s coming back! He’s restoring us again, praise be to God’
And then back to tongues.
Perhaps my view of worship is too thin.
As a Christian, and also a minister, I tend to make worship the thing humans do to entertain God. Every Sunday, churches fill with people who get up to praise and worship God. It’s a force they create, devise, and execute. We sing some songs, ‘get fed’, and go home tired. We fulfilled our duty, but no groaning or joy is felt—only dormant idleness. This is not worship because it lacks wonder.
Worship is not something we create, but something we step into. Like a river passing by, it flows whether or not we soak our toes in its cool wetness. All of creation is begging God for restoration of the new creation, and it always praises the God it serves. The ecological cycle of death and life, fall and spring, point to the reality of a fallen earth that worships God. When we worship, we join with them in groaning for the new creation, crying out to God for Christ’s return, hoping in the God of the universe. We step into the stream, we bathe in it, we let its waters pass through us. We feel the cool breeze. We join the wonder. We enter worship.
So whether we have 5 or 50, worship is happening. Whether we have a cute order of worship or not, it still continues. Why? Worship is for all creation, not just humans. It’s not something we create; it’s something we enter. It’s a world of wonder. It’s a groaning. I hardly view worship as groaning because I hardly see worship as a cry of my need for God. But now that I think about it, I feel the pain of creation. I feel the pain of fallenness, of groaning. I understand my chipmunk friend, the birds, the trees, the rivers, my fellow believers, and join them.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Sacred Mind
Info Update:
All is well in Canyon. Sunday we had our first service in Norris (a side camp near our area). We had one person show up, but he was very cool and it felt good to worship together—no matter how small. That day I took a nap and relaxed because I worked like crazy for the last 8 days. Monday I went to Old Faithful and then went and hiked with two people from the ACMNP team. We went to the Tower area where we saw sheep, foxes, and other deer. The landscape is so diverse it’s unreal. Even on Tuesday before work, Kyle came up and we hung out and went to the Canyon and Lake area—unreal.
I am not longer a dish specialist, but the expo guy (Expo Expert). I basically serve as liaison between servers and cooks while traying up food to go out to guests. It’s great because I get to interact with both servers and cooks and opens up new relationships. It also helps that I got a raise too that is significant given my previous wage. I was told I will be in this position for about 3 weeks, then serve—we’ll see. I think the hesitation to move to server stems from my earlier departure (Aug 28th) then the end of their season here (end of sept).
Reflection—Sacred Mind
The other night I sat in my bed looking through the window at the trees. The rain tapped on my window and I looked up to see sunlight peeking through some pine needles. Sun? There hadn’t been sun in days. I grabbed my raincoat and headed out the door. After walking around the lodge where I work, I stood speechless at the scene—no rain, only a beautiful sunset. The light seemed alien, like it came from a futuristic world or heaven. I was speechless, no words to describe, no picture to take.
My mind begin to ask, ‘why?’ Why the sunset? Does God paint the skies for one person? Is it possible he painted it for me? Maybe it’s just light particles—something scientific and easy to explain. The reality of the event requires processing with my mind, but how can I properly discern it? What does this event inform about how we relate with God?
There’s a story in the Bible about Jesus and his disciples sitting around when Jesus asks a dangerous question: who do others say that I am? It’s dangerous because the appraisal of men is cheap, and I can imagine Jesus wasn’t always properly understood as the God of the universe. The responses? Elijah, Jeremiah, John the Baptist, A prophet—someone important, and good but the details are debatable. Then, the question—But who do you say that I am?
Who do you say that I am? How does your mind understand me? How do you know me?
These questions are critical to the sunset.
If the sunset could speak, what would it say? Would it be bored? Would it shine indifferently? Or would it be consumed in the glory of God, eager to shine his love to one, small, guy in Yellowstone National Park?
These are dangerous thoughts for humans because it means we are loved. That somewhere in the cosmos, God thinks about us. Not only that, God surprises us with a sunset like a lover surprises with flowers. He gives to us creation to know him better. Although it’s easier in Yellowstone to think this way, it’s a reality we step into instead of a change in scenery.
Our minds must learn to think this way because our minds don’t think this way.
Isn’t it the hardest truth: that God loves you and cares enough to let you know. Often we believe he is either indifferent or actually angry at us. We believe the lie instead of the truth. Our minds are warped. I want to be careful and not make total depravity total truth. Yes, I believe in total depravity, but its application needs constant evaluation and wisdom to avoid preaching despair. Calling people depraved is bullying if it doesn’t end in the good news. Romans doesn’t end in chapter 3—and thank God. Our doctrine of humanity informs our mental state so that we love him better. It is how we think about God that is infinitely important because it changes the way we think about each other.
It’s a mind that thinks about life in light of his or her relationship to God. The greatest commandment involves loving God with all of our mind. What does this mean?
Our minds were given to us to love God.
No, our minds are for learning, education, theological data, information, thinking, intellection, and creativity—nope.
Our minds were given to us to love God.
Yes, it expresses itself in all of the above arenas, but we shouldn’t mistake the end for the means.
I love theology. But theology is limited and contextual. Our minds weren’t made to love Lewis, Moltman, Calvin, Luther, Augustine, or any other theologian. Our minds were made to love God. Perhaps their words inform, teach, and make sense of some madness, but it is not the end itself. The end is God, the relationship and the learning is to know him better. This is why I think theological texts serve their purpose, but need tossing aside every now and again.
So what does it mean?
It means allowing the God of the universe to love us and to actually cognitively receive that reality. It’s happening, but a renewed mind, a sacred mind, sees God as the source of the sunset. She wakes up and sees her own awakness as a gift from God—her life is from God.
It’s renewing a of our minds that takes us to a new understanding of who he is in all things. He wants us to see him, and he won’t even let us stand in the way. He gave us creation, and he gave us himself—in Christ. We know him through our relationship with him, we know him by looking to Christ, we know him by allowing ourselves to experience this reality again. We experience him as he works through our own personal lives. We begin to hear him in the raindrops, the sunset, the traffic, the noise of life.
Listen closely. Look around you. He’s speaking to you—now. He wants you to see him again.
‘Jesus replied, ‘love the lord your God with all your heart, and with all of our soul, and with all of your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment’—matthew 22:37-28
‘Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind’—Romans 12:2
Your support means more to me than you know,
LTDA,
Trey
All is well in Canyon. Sunday we had our first service in Norris (a side camp near our area). We had one person show up, but he was very cool and it felt good to worship together—no matter how small. That day I took a nap and relaxed because I worked like crazy for the last 8 days. Monday I went to Old Faithful and then went and hiked with two people from the ACMNP team. We went to the Tower area where we saw sheep, foxes, and other deer. The landscape is so diverse it’s unreal. Even on Tuesday before work, Kyle came up and we hung out and went to the Canyon and Lake area—unreal.
I am not longer a dish specialist, but the expo guy (Expo Expert). I basically serve as liaison between servers and cooks while traying up food to go out to guests. It’s great because I get to interact with both servers and cooks and opens up new relationships. It also helps that I got a raise too that is significant given my previous wage. I was told I will be in this position for about 3 weeks, then serve—we’ll see. I think the hesitation to move to server stems from my earlier departure (Aug 28th) then the end of their season here (end of sept).
Reflection—Sacred Mind
The other night I sat in my bed looking through the window at the trees. The rain tapped on my window and I looked up to see sunlight peeking through some pine needles. Sun? There hadn’t been sun in days. I grabbed my raincoat and headed out the door. After walking around the lodge where I work, I stood speechless at the scene—no rain, only a beautiful sunset. The light seemed alien, like it came from a futuristic world or heaven. I was speechless, no words to describe, no picture to take.
My mind begin to ask, ‘why?’ Why the sunset? Does God paint the skies for one person? Is it possible he painted it for me? Maybe it’s just light particles—something scientific and easy to explain. The reality of the event requires processing with my mind, but how can I properly discern it? What does this event inform about how we relate with God?
There’s a story in the Bible about Jesus and his disciples sitting around when Jesus asks a dangerous question: who do others say that I am? It’s dangerous because the appraisal of men is cheap, and I can imagine Jesus wasn’t always properly understood as the God of the universe. The responses? Elijah, Jeremiah, John the Baptist, A prophet—someone important, and good but the details are debatable. Then, the question—But who do you say that I am?
Who do you say that I am? How does your mind understand me? How do you know me?
These questions are critical to the sunset.
If the sunset could speak, what would it say? Would it be bored? Would it shine indifferently? Or would it be consumed in the glory of God, eager to shine his love to one, small, guy in Yellowstone National Park?
These are dangerous thoughts for humans because it means we are loved. That somewhere in the cosmos, God thinks about us. Not only that, God surprises us with a sunset like a lover surprises with flowers. He gives to us creation to know him better. Although it’s easier in Yellowstone to think this way, it’s a reality we step into instead of a change in scenery.
Our minds must learn to think this way because our minds don’t think this way.
Isn’t it the hardest truth: that God loves you and cares enough to let you know. Often we believe he is either indifferent or actually angry at us. We believe the lie instead of the truth. Our minds are warped. I want to be careful and not make total depravity total truth. Yes, I believe in total depravity, but its application needs constant evaluation and wisdom to avoid preaching despair. Calling people depraved is bullying if it doesn’t end in the good news. Romans doesn’t end in chapter 3—and thank God. Our doctrine of humanity informs our mental state so that we love him better. It is how we think about God that is infinitely important because it changes the way we think about each other.
It’s a mind that thinks about life in light of his or her relationship to God. The greatest commandment involves loving God with all of our mind. What does this mean?
Our minds were given to us to love God.
No, our minds are for learning, education, theological data, information, thinking, intellection, and creativity—nope.
Our minds were given to us to love God.
Yes, it expresses itself in all of the above arenas, but we shouldn’t mistake the end for the means.
I love theology. But theology is limited and contextual. Our minds weren’t made to love Lewis, Moltman, Calvin, Luther, Augustine, or any other theologian. Our minds were made to love God. Perhaps their words inform, teach, and make sense of some madness, but it is not the end itself. The end is God, the relationship and the learning is to know him better. This is why I think theological texts serve their purpose, but need tossing aside every now and again.
So what does it mean?
It means allowing the God of the universe to love us and to actually cognitively receive that reality. It’s happening, but a renewed mind, a sacred mind, sees God as the source of the sunset. She wakes up and sees her own awakness as a gift from God—her life is from God.
It’s renewing a of our minds that takes us to a new understanding of who he is in all things. He wants us to see him, and he won’t even let us stand in the way. He gave us creation, and he gave us himself—in Christ. We know him through our relationship with him, we know him by looking to Christ, we know him by allowing ourselves to experience this reality again. We experience him as he works through our own personal lives. We begin to hear him in the raindrops, the sunset, the traffic, the noise of life.
Listen closely. Look around you. He’s speaking to you—now. He wants you to see him again.
‘Jesus replied, ‘love the lord your God with all your heart, and with all of our soul, and with all of your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment’—matthew 22:37-28
‘Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind’—Romans 12:2
Your support means more to me than you know,
LTDA,
Trey
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Update: Dishes, Dishes, Dishes
Good morning or afternoon!
Info Update:
I moved into Canyon one week ago, and wanted to update my life for you all. I have a job working as a dishwasher (or dish wash specialist extraordinaire—my definition) in the lodge where we do the dishes for EVERY restaurant in the area. I’ve worked 8 hours everyday since Saturday and will until this coming Sunday. My hands feel burned and swollen, I’m constantly soaked in water, and the job is repetitive. Yet, I have learned immensely from the opportunity so far, but more on that later.
No services were held last Sunday due to work demands and the mountains of snow on the ground. Yes, it’s June and we have snow. Yes, I’m sick of it. No, it won’t stop anytime soon. The ampitheater where we hold services is still under snow, and there is no indoor alternative up here where we can schedule services. So, needless to say we haven’t even gotten started. On a good note, we’ve assembled a small team, and have a working basis for planning the services. We even added a new team member! A girl attended church in Mammoth (North of my location), and met the pastor who also serves as our director for this area too. Once a connection was made, he referred her to our site to help lead worship services. She’s very sweet and will fit in nicely with our team.
I have a roommate now. He is from the Czech Republic and is a nice guy. This is his first time in an English-speaking country, but he’s very clear speaking. I’ve met some more people and my co-workers are really good. Most are from Malaysia and North Carolina—what a combination! In all seriousness, work has helped acclimate to the schedule up here.
Reflection—Dishes, Dishes, Dishes
As stated, my job up here is very simple as a dishwasher. Here’s the central dogma of my job; take the dirty dish, rinse off excess food, set on conveyor belt into the giant cleaning machine, take dish off of machine, put dish in its proper place. Easy, right? Indeed, my job is very simple. The difficulty begins when you wash the same dish over and over for 8 hours straight.
When I first began washing I scrubbed every dish as fast as possible and completed the dogma as quickly as possible. Truth be told, I impressed myself. I even grew frustrated when other co-workers didn’t wash as fast. I could keep the conveyor belt moving without any delay. I was fast. But after about 30 minutes, that pace could not work, and I slowed down. My head ached, my body slowing, seriously, didn’t I JUST wash you. And I still had 7 ½ hours to go.
My job does not ask me to wash one dish well. It demands that I wash the dishes as they come, over and over for 8 straight hours. My boss does not demand speed but consistency. Oh, I know, I hate the word too. 8 hours of the same thing? How can you do it? Do you not go insane? The answer to all is ‘yes’. We do it. In fact, I believe we have the best dish crew in Yellowstone. Why? Because we work consistently. One person pulls dishes, another cleans them, and another loads them—all day. We take whatever comes and do it, over and over again with the same level of enthusiasm as before. Instead of making one dish shiny, we clean the dishes consistently for as long as it takes.
So too is the cadence of life. Whatever we do, whoever we are, life demands we wash dishes with consistency. It’s the difference between infatuation at the beginning of a marriage and the 50th anniversary—the success of one dish vs. 8 hours of washing that dish. Life is washing dishes over and over again. It moves from one dish to another, and often very quickly. The only pace that will sustain us for years is the consistency of washing the dishes over and over again. If we want a significant life, avoid needing something new to do, and do what you do with consistency. If you’re a student in school, study consistently. If you work, do your best work consistently. If you do both, do them both with excellence and consistency--not slacking on one or the other. If you minister, be there—over and over again. If you’re in whatever relationship, be with that person over and over again. No one is impressed by our one-time moment of success. We write a paper the night before and get an A. So what. That doesn’t mean we’re brilliant or learned anything. In fact, it means we’re too juvenile to actually try and work on it over a long period of time (and I’m guilty of this, but I think it’s worth sharing with others too). Our jobs don’t care if we do one project really well one time. Nope, what really makes a significant life is aiming to do what we do again and again, the best way we can, and in whatever way we can. It means planning your days and time in a way that allows you to wash the dish over and over. ‘Yea, but I have a billion other dishes Trey’. Indeed, so when a cook needs an unexpected particular dish at a given moment, I wash that dish and send it through, make sure he/she gets it, and go back to the work. This life demands priorities. But, I think the problems arise when we get overwhelmed with too many dishes in front of us or don’t know where to begin.
And so insert failure—procrastination, failure, lackluster effort, laziness, depression, and let the mountain of dishes look demoralizing.
I have this problem too, so I get it. Yet this is precisely where the Gospel speaks in a profound way. God himself designated the cadence of dishwashing. He demands consistency and gives us dishes to wash (Read Genesis and see what God gives Adam and Eve to do in the garden). He always gives us dishes because he loves us wants us to love others forever. He is the manager and the head chef, and he needs dishes washed so he can properly serve people. But what if we don’t wash the dishes—what if we suck at it? We don’t always finish the task—sometimes we drop dishes, forget to wash, get pissed at being a dishwasher instead of a server, or lazily grab a drink. Yet, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that we don’t wash the dishes, but he gives them anyway because he wants to—he really believes we can love people over a long period of time.
If he knows we will fumble the dish, why give it to us? Because he loves us. He initiates love, we don’t. In fact, we are really bad at love. There is a hidden grace in the dishwashing of life. The context of all dishwashing is the love of God. It extends beyond ourselves and flows into the life of others—that’s why dishwashing is necessary. The grace to us is that despite our multiple failures, he gives us the dish anyway. We may hate the dishes given, we may hate the grind, but he still wants us to do it. Even if we know it might not work out, he says, ‘I want you to keep it anyway’. I think of Peter after denying Christ, receives the keys to the Church. Peter? Why not John or one of the other disciples who didn’t bail when it got tough? It all begins with the initiation of Christ., and he sustains us.
I can honestly say that what sustains me here in Yellowstone is the reality of God’s love and his desire to love others through my being here. By no means do I do it well, but it is a daily reality that sits in my mind. Yes, he uses dishwashers like us for this task. It doesn’t matter if we serve tables, cook, or prepare the food—we do it because we love people. I scrub the dish because I want to know what it means to love, fail at it, and have God start all over again. And here’s some good news, at the end of the day, it is God who washes us—his dishes—so that we can be plates that serve his love to the world. It’s not all on you, but he wants us to enter into his love. Everyone tells us love is what matters and wins, then go do it. Over, and over, and over, and over again.
Info Update:
I moved into Canyon one week ago, and wanted to update my life for you all. I have a job working as a dishwasher (or dish wash specialist extraordinaire—my definition) in the lodge where we do the dishes for EVERY restaurant in the area. I’ve worked 8 hours everyday since Saturday and will until this coming Sunday. My hands feel burned and swollen, I’m constantly soaked in water, and the job is repetitive. Yet, I have learned immensely from the opportunity so far, but more on that later.
No services were held last Sunday due to work demands and the mountains of snow on the ground. Yes, it’s June and we have snow. Yes, I’m sick of it. No, it won’t stop anytime soon. The ampitheater where we hold services is still under snow, and there is no indoor alternative up here where we can schedule services. So, needless to say we haven’t even gotten started. On a good note, we’ve assembled a small team, and have a working basis for planning the services. We even added a new team member! A girl attended church in Mammoth (North of my location), and met the pastor who also serves as our director for this area too. Once a connection was made, he referred her to our site to help lead worship services. She’s very sweet and will fit in nicely with our team.
I have a roommate now. He is from the Czech Republic and is a nice guy. This is his first time in an English-speaking country, but he’s very clear speaking. I’ve met some more people and my co-workers are really good. Most are from Malaysia and North Carolina—what a combination! In all seriousness, work has helped acclimate to the schedule up here.
Reflection—Dishes, Dishes, Dishes
As stated, my job up here is very simple as a dishwasher. Here’s the central dogma of my job; take the dirty dish, rinse off excess food, set on conveyor belt into the giant cleaning machine, take dish off of machine, put dish in its proper place. Easy, right? Indeed, my job is very simple. The difficulty begins when you wash the same dish over and over for 8 hours straight.
When I first began washing I scrubbed every dish as fast as possible and completed the dogma as quickly as possible. Truth be told, I impressed myself. I even grew frustrated when other co-workers didn’t wash as fast. I could keep the conveyor belt moving without any delay. I was fast. But after about 30 minutes, that pace could not work, and I slowed down. My head ached, my body slowing, seriously, didn’t I JUST wash you. And I still had 7 ½ hours to go.
My job does not ask me to wash one dish well. It demands that I wash the dishes as they come, over and over for 8 straight hours. My boss does not demand speed but consistency. Oh, I know, I hate the word too. 8 hours of the same thing? How can you do it? Do you not go insane? The answer to all is ‘yes’. We do it. In fact, I believe we have the best dish crew in Yellowstone. Why? Because we work consistently. One person pulls dishes, another cleans them, and another loads them—all day. We take whatever comes and do it, over and over again with the same level of enthusiasm as before. Instead of making one dish shiny, we clean the dishes consistently for as long as it takes.
So too is the cadence of life. Whatever we do, whoever we are, life demands we wash dishes with consistency. It’s the difference between infatuation at the beginning of a marriage and the 50th anniversary—the success of one dish vs. 8 hours of washing that dish. Life is washing dishes over and over again. It moves from one dish to another, and often very quickly. The only pace that will sustain us for years is the consistency of washing the dishes over and over again. If we want a significant life, avoid needing something new to do, and do what you do with consistency. If you’re a student in school, study consistently. If you work, do your best work consistently. If you do both, do them both with excellence and consistency--not slacking on one or the other. If you minister, be there—over and over again. If you’re in whatever relationship, be with that person over and over again. No one is impressed by our one-time moment of success. We write a paper the night before and get an A. So what. That doesn’t mean we’re brilliant or learned anything. In fact, it means we’re too juvenile to actually try and work on it over a long period of time (and I’m guilty of this, but I think it’s worth sharing with others too). Our jobs don’t care if we do one project really well one time. Nope, what really makes a significant life is aiming to do what we do again and again, the best way we can, and in whatever way we can. It means planning your days and time in a way that allows you to wash the dish over and over. ‘Yea, but I have a billion other dishes Trey’. Indeed, so when a cook needs an unexpected particular dish at a given moment, I wash that dish and send it through, make sure he/she gets it, and go back to the work. This life demands priorities. But, I think the problems arise when we get overwhelmed with too many dishes in front of us or don’t know where to begin.
And so insert failure—procrastination, failure, lackluster effort, laziness, depression, and let the mountain of dishes look demoralizing.
I have this problem too, so I get it. Yet this is precisely where the Gospel speaks in a profound way. God himself designated the cadence of dishwashing. He demands consistency and gives us dishes to wash (Read Genesis and see what God gives Adam and Eve to do in the garden). He always gives us dishes because he loves us wants us to love others forever. He is the manager and the head chef, and he needs dishes washed so he can properly serve people. But what if we don’t wash the dishes—what if we suck at it? We don’t always finish the task—sometimes we drop dishes, forget to wash, get pissed at being a dishwasher instead of a server, or lazily grab a drink. Yet, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that we don’t wash the dishes, but he gives them anyway because he wants to—he really believes we can love people over a long period of time.
If he knows we will fumble the dish, why give it to us? Because he loves us. He initiates love, we don’t. In fact, we are really bad at love. There is a hidden grace in the dishwashing of life. The context of all dishwashing is the love of God. It extends beyond ourselves and flows into the life of others—that’s why dishwashing is necessary. The grace to us is that despite our multiple failures, he gives us the dish anyway. We may hate the dishes given, we may hate the grind, but he still wants us to do it. Even if we know it might not work out, he says, ‘I want you to keep it anyway’. I think of Peter after denying Christ, receives the keys to the Church. Peter? Why not John or one of the other disciples who didn’t bail when it got tough? It all begins with the initiation of Christ., and he sustains us.
I can honestly say that what sustains me here in Yellowstone is the reality of God’s love and his desire to love others through my being here. By no means do I do it well, but it is a daily reality that sits in my mind. Yes, he uses dishwashers like us for this task. It doesn’t matter if we serve tables, cook, or prepare the food—we do it because we love people. I scrub the dish because I want to know what it means to love, fail at it, and have God start all over again. And here’s some good news, at the end of the day, it is God who washes us—his dishes—so that we can be plates that serve his love to the world. It’s not all on you, but he wants us to enter into his love. Everyone tells us love is what matters and wins, then go do it. Over, and over, and over, and over again.
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