I love to tell the story

Ah, that's a good ol' hymn. Brings me back to my youth.

There's something about 'story' that just has such immense power. As we're reading through the book of Luke as a congregation at church we were challenged to really dig into the Gospel and read it through in large chunks or even all the way through in one sitting. There are so many things that are missed when the story of Jesus is simply examined as a series of unconnected events, taking 'this' saying or 'that' deed and creating our own picture of Jesus.

It doesn't even matter that the story in Luke may not be completely historically accurate. That's not the point of the story. The point of the story is, well, the story of Jesus. The Gospel writer formed Luke in a particular way to share something about who Jesus was, and it's through that message that the Holy Spirit transforms us.

But what about our stories?

We hold them with such lesser value, but I'm coming to see them as being invaluable expressions of who we are and who God is. Being in community means sharing your story. That doesn't mean spilling your guts to every person about every sin you've ever committed, but I think it does involve a willingness to be vulnerable about our own failures and how God has worked in the midst of those things.

That's not to imply the only stories that count are the ones with a happy ending, ones where our Saviour is visibly victorious. The stories of the broken are almost more beautiful in some ways. Why? I think because there is hope. There is the hope that the Lord has done great things and is able to do more of the same for those who are willing to let Him. I think that's pretty awesome.

I don't always love to tell MY story, mind you, but I'm learning, slowly.

Henri Nouwen is 'the balls'

I could think of no more honouring title than one from the great movie, "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy".

Until recently, I had never read any of Henry Nouwen's works on my own, only through other people quoting the dude.

And I must say, he was quite the dude. Almost as awesome as the real Dude.

I've been reading through his book, "The Inner Voice of Love", and it blows my mind continually. It's like this guy has walked my life already and wrote down a bunch of his thoughts to help clear up some of my own. The book is a smattering of spiritual imperatives that he wanted to remind himself of during a time of serious darkness. What he wrote was pretty raw at times, which is why I loooove it. It just warms my heart, even if I do receive the occasional 'powerbomb'.

Here is a bit of my encouragement from today entitled, "Love Deeply":

"Do not hesitate to love and love deeply. You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love ever more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soul on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds."

O Lord, may I learn to love deeply and unselfishly. May you plant these seeds deep within my heart.

God is NOT Santa Claus

For the most part, I've never really doubted that God has loved me. I've doubted that He's all that considerate at times, but never really doubted the love. But what kind of love has it been? Or more specifically, what kind of love have I perceived it to be?

I didn't realize it for a long time, but I see God as Santa Claus, to some extent. This being of love and compassion who gives good gifts to those who are deserving.

That's nice. It's not much more than nice, but it is that, to be sure.

I've always seen God most clearly through others, through the lips, hands, and feet of those who reside in these mortal bodies. God outside of the flesh has often seemed distant, unconcerned, irrelevant. But should it be so?

Despite feeling that God appears to offer little outside of Their expression in humanity does little to suppress the fear that the good gifts I receive in others will be taken away, so as not to distract me from the Giver. But when I focus on the Giver I feel...unknown and alone. This should not be.

The love I receive from others is a mere drop in the bucket of love that my Creator has for me, yet I seldom perceive it as such. Why not?

Because God is Santa Claus.

Through broken human relationships in my life I've come to see God as loving but impersonal, at least in the sense that my thoughts and feelings and worries and fears and hopes are all but irrelevant to such a supreme and omniscient being.

I am loved, for certain, but not in the way I need, not in the way that quells the yearning for affection that I so desire. In this picture God remains aloof and unconcerned, unable to provide the 'known-ness' that I desperately need. My deepest struggles and addictions have proven this over and over again.

So how do I reclaim the picture of God as Lover and I as the Beloved? I'm not entirely sure.

Nevertheless, this realization will bring transformation, however slow and painful it may become.

I am thankful that the true character of God is far superior to my distorted caricature.

Weird dreams and good fruit

I will tell you what. After one of the better days I've had in a long time, which was only marginally related to the fact that it was my birthday, I had some of THE MOST vivid and varied dreams I've had in a long time...weird.

When I look at my life a year ago, specifically last Christmas, it looks like a mere shadow of where I'm at right now. God has done some amazing stuff inside of me that I don't fully comprehend and a lot of it has only really been surfacing in the last week or two. It kind of boggles the mind how gracious God is in the face of my faithlessness.

I get so worried, so discouraged, so confused, so hopeless, and God just takes it in stride and says, "I will make you like my Son."

And He does.

In some crazy way He does. Despite my kicking and screaming, my pouting and fussing, He makes old things new, again and again.

The gift of Jesus was the gift of new life, the 'first fruits' of God's reconciliation with humanity.

That's pretty frickn' sweet.

'Tis the season to...

...drink much eggnogg...
...drive like a jackass...
...eat much chocolate...
...attend at least one church service...
...be swarmed by strangers in a busy mall...
...buy gifts for those who already have so much...
...enjoy a few days off work...


and maybe if there's time,

...celebrate the birth of the world's Saviour...
...spread love to those who seem unlovable...
...give deeply to those who are truly in need...
...offer thanks to the Giver for all that we have been given...
...take time to recognize the hopelessness of many...
...soak in the birth story of Jesus...
...offer mercy to those who don't deserve it...


Personally, I find the former list much easier to grasp hold of, though I don't think they're mutually exclusive of one another. We live in this physical world and while fighting through crowded malls could be done away with I really enjoy a glass of eggnog.

I write these things to myself more than anyone else, even if I don't always realize it. My attention diverted away from Jesus towards things that are 'good' is hardly better than it being diverted towards things that are 'not so good'. Loving those who love me is good, but are not even the 'sinners' doing that as well? Jesus did not bring Good News for those who are 'well' but for the sick, the broken, the blind, the captive.

For me.

I am called to do the same.

Help me, Lord.

No, not 'help'. I do not want you to lend me a hand.

I want to be consumed by Your love.

Consume me, Lord.

A burning in my heart

What is the price of justice?

We usually view justice as the punishment of the guilty, in which case we are often adamant about it's importance and the sacrifice sometimes required to ensure it. We are willing to sacrifice time, money, and maybe even our lives (or at least the lives of others). We long to 'fight the good fight', so to speak, to bring tyrants to their knees.

But what about the justice that says we all deserve to be loved, that we all have the same right to live? What about the justice that condemns oppression and stands with the oppressed? Are we truly passionate about this kind of justice, the kind that wages war against our own intolerance and greed?

This battle almost seems to require more of me, in some ways, because it is not a fight that is fought with my hands. It's not a fight that sets out to confront evil with violence, but with patience and humility, with selflessness and compassion.

At times there seems to be no end in sight and it weighs upon me with a feeling of hopelessness. Honestly, I worry it's a battle we are losing and one that I cannot fight alone.

So...

...who will fight with me?

"What's mine is mine"

I mean, after all, if what's mine isn't really mine, then why would I spend so much time and energy on getting things for myself?

If I have no claim on the things that I say are mine, what keeps the world from stripping me of all that I have? What protection is there against being taken advantage of? I must guard myself against those who would abuse me, correct?

What's mine is mine.

What is mine?

Are the clothes on my back mine? Is the food in my cupboard mine? What about the blood running through my veins? Surely that, if nothing else, is mine.

We draw lines and make boundaries. We grab and we hoard. All for the sake of ourselves.

What would life look like without these things? What would a life look like that said, "What's mine isn't really mine"?

So whose is it?

I don't think we belong to those around us. Why would we? No, we belong to the One who created us, One who can give and take as is deemed necessary, for the betterment of the created.

Alas, I am usually content to set my stakes and build my fences.

But I long for the freedom of open pastures.

"Veritas. Quis est veritas?"

To quote the brilliant drummer/philosopher Mike Portnoy, "The truth is the truth. All you can do is live with it."

We live with the truth, we exist by the truth, but how often do we really know the truth? There are things in life that appear to be true one moment and then false the next. Why is this? Are we so easily blinded to reality that what is false seems more real than what is true?

Truth is truth. It's not subjective.

Or is it?

Can something be 'true' and yet incorrect or incomplete? Can truth exist outside of the quantifiable world?

I would say, "No."

But that doesn't mean I'm right.

We seem to cling to what we view as 'truth' rather tightly. To imply that truth is concrete is fair, but to imply that we have a corner on that truth is another assumption entirely.

There are so very many things that I've thought were one way, that I've assumed to be true, that are actually not. That's kind of frightening but kind of awesome. It's exciting to explore life with a greater humility, that our perspective is so very, very slim.

I find it a great encouragement to dialog with others and explore truth within community. Maybe when we put enough of our individual pieces together we'll begin to see the whole a lot clearer than we do now, even if we think we see things just fine.

Fine, a BETTER Christmas miracle

I was out for a walk last night, the snow lightly falling around me, the crunch beneath my feet being the only audible sound. I looked around at the trees, black silhouettes against the glimmering, white snow, the moon revealing herself in all her unashamed beauty.

As passed by a clearing I noticed a glowing figure in the distance. When I explored further I discovered there to be not one but a multitude of these mysterious beings! My curiosity could not be contained as I carefully moved towards them, keeping silent and out of sight.

What struck me as I drew near were the sounds of voices speaking a language I had never heard. So beautiful and so heavenly was it that I almost turned away. But for some strange reason, I did not.

And then another sound, higher, more familiar, "meow.....meow....MEEEOOOOWWW!!!"

I glanced up to see a cat sailing through the air, limbs flailing. It was safely caught by #14, who ran it out for a good sixteen yard gain. First down. The magnificent sound of the heavenly chorus announced the end of the third quarter.

I wasn't surprised to discover that the angelic choir that announces things like the birth of Jesus or the grand opening of a new Walmart keep themselves busy in the off-season. I was simply surprised that they did so by playing touch-football with a live cat.

In any event, the team that was going 'no-robes' ended up faking a field goal in the final seconds to score a two-point conversion and win the game.

The cat was unharmed.

A Christmas miracle.

A Christmas miracle!

My dream last night involved me going to school for my exams but partaking in a memorial service for someone from our church who passed away last week. It was a really excellent service and I was greatly encouraged. Then I realized I had missed my 'Jesus' final and was rushing around to see if I could write it late. I ended up being way too late and so I failed the exam, which meant I failed the class.

I was pretty discouraged as I told some people what happened, but tried to remind myself of all that I had learned throughout the class and how much I had benefited, regardless. I didn't know what I was going to do but I knew it wasn't the end of the world.

I awoke in a cold sweat and eventually fell back to sleep.

Someone suggested it was my subconscious struggle between an obsession with excellence and a resolve to value what I've learned above all else. Hmm, that could be...

We had been given a list of twelve questions that could be on the exam and our prof was going to choose four of them, as well as two more questions from our notes. All essay, baby. I was prepared to do worse on this test than I ever have in my life. I was shooting for a C, at best.

When I sat down for the exam and flipped over my paper, I was awestruck to discover that he decided to let US choose six questions from the list of twelve to answer.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, you are merciful!

The best part was being able to express well the great bounty of learning I have gained in these few months and be thankful for what God is teaching me.

It was most certainly a Christmas miracle.

Not so surprsing...

After taking the Keirsey Temperament Sorter II yesterday, I found out that I am an INFJ.

I am an Idealist

I am the 'Counselor'.

Here is a bit about what it quite accurately said about me:

"Counselors can be hard to get to know. They have an unusually rich inner life, but they are reserved and tend not to share their reactions except with those they trust. With their loved ones, certainly, Counselors are not reluctant to express their feelings, their face lighting up with the positive emotions, but darkening like a thunderhead with the negative. Indeed, because of their strong ability to take into themselves the feelings of others, Counselors can be hurt rather easily by those around them, which, perhaps, is one reason why they tend to be private people, mutely withdrawing from human contact. At the same time, friends who have known a Counselor for years may find sides emerging which come as a surprise. Not that they are inconsistent; Counselors value their integrity a great deal, but they have intricately woven, mysterious personalities which sometimes puzzle even them."

Yep.


And just for fun, because I thought this was hilarious,

"Furthermore, the Counselor is most likely of all the types to demonstrate an ability to understand psychic phenomena and to have visions of human events, past, present, or future. What is known as ESP may well be exceptional intuitive ability-in both its forms, projection and introjection. Such supernormal intuition is found frequently in the Counselor, and can extend to people, things, and often events, taking the form of visions, episodes of foreknowledge, premonitions, auditory and visual images of things to come, as well as uncanny communications with certain individuals at a distance."



There you go. A bit of insight into the life and times of Matthew Kent.

The definition of irony

A conversation I had with a friend today about Hapkido:

"So do you ever get kicked in the groin?"

"Well, sometimes."

"Really?!?"

"Yeah, but we wear cups, so it's not that bad."

"Oh."

...

I went to Hapkido tonight.

I got kicked in the groin.

It was that bad.

From slave to son

I don't always want what God wants, and so I get confused and think that anything I want must not be what God wants, and vice versa. I'm convinced there is a good deal of reality to this idea, but it's not really all that trustworthy because it assumes that my 'wants' all originate in my sinful nature, rather than in my redeemed spirit.

"You can't always get what you want" - Rolling Stones (personally, I don't care for them)

My struggle is I often assume that what I want is the opposite of what's best for me. Often times it probably is (I won't deny that) but it seems to strip away a little bit of my humanity when I try to relegate myself to a mere slave of God.

I'm not a slave, I'm a son, an heir.

What's so hard about accepting this is that I feel compelled to believe that God won't accept me as anything other than a slave, someone who gives and gives and never asks for anything in return. A friend mentioned to me last night that they thought I was a 'super volunteer', or something to that effect. Ha. That's amusing.

It's not that I don't like helping and taking the initiative to get things done, because I do enjoy serving at times, but a lot of the time it's like I'm trying to buy my freedom out of bondage. I do what I think I need to do to be acceptable in the eyes of the Lord and of those around me. What better way to try and cover up the large volume of sin and selfishness that exists in me than by diverting attention towards my 'good' deeds?

But I can testify with certainty that through my times of self-enforced penance, God has done work in me. I've started to enjoy serving because that's what Christ did. I don't see it that way all the time, but it's continuing to grow, becoming a larger and larger factor in my actions.

I'm very thankful for that.

I still have a long way to go in learning how to take hold of what's already mine.

Sometimes when God calls I pretend He's got the wrong number.

I've heard that God doesn't burden us more than we can bear.

That's bunk.

God definitely gives us burdens that are greater than we can bear. I read a book this year that talked all about it. It was frickn' sweet.

Having said that, I hate it when He does it, but I know that it's necessary.

If I only ever faced burdens that I could handle, I certainly wouldn't need God.

For a long time I thought that was the case, that I was meant to deal with things with my own power. God must just be testing me, right? The amount of frustration and disappointment you experience when you try and 'make it on your own' is quite unbelievable.

Yet I still try to do it.

Day after day.

I feel like God calls me to these ridiculous sacrifices and leaps of faith that I am totally unable to make. I get a bit ticked off at times. Is God just trying to make me feel bad? I already know how much of a failure I can be without Him asking of me more than I seem able to give. Why would anyone, let alone God, do that?

I can only assume He's smarter than I give Him credit for. Smarter than me, anyway.

It's fairly rare that I ask God for really specific things these days. My biggest prayer lately is just to be able to trust, to believe Him and trust in what He is calling me to.

What that actually is happens to be a source of great uncertainty and confusion.

...

Father, help my unbelief. I want to follow, even if I often choose not to.

Amen

Ebb and Flow

I knew I was going to have a rough sleep last night, and I was not mistaken. Had I envisioned myself having a wonderful sleep things may have turned out differently.

Such was not the case. I can deal with that.

There are days when I feel like I'm in my element, days where I feel I am the 'essence' of Matthew Kent. I feel like I was born to be who I am, that I was created with great care and purpose.

There are also days where I feel at a complete loss to take hold of my 'destiny', if you will, days where I feel like I don't know who I am and can't even recognize myself in the mirror. I feel like my life is, at best, a marginal reflection of the man I was created to be.

Then there are days somewhere in the middle. Most of my life is lived between those extremes, flowing between them, in and out, like the tide.

This leads to a sort of spiritual 'sea sickness'. It's mostly a queasy feeling, deep down in my stomach. Slightly unpleasant.

If nothing else it serves to remind me of the journey I'm on.

I can be like 'House', an ass, and I can be like a son of God.

The thing that gives me hope? I actually AM a son of God, even if it doesn't always seem like it.

Silence is silver, at best

As a self-professed introvert, I have a strong leaning towards the realm of the silent. I savour my time to be alone and ponder things. It's a blessing to be able to enjoy that.

Silence can be very good.

Like when you're comforting someone who is walking through deep grief.

Or when you're asked by someone if a particular pair of pants they're trying on adds too much 'junk in the trunk'.

Those are times when words should be few.

Yet despite my bent towards the contemplative, I'm realizing more and more the value of dialogue. Being able to express our thoughts and feelings to others is a great step of humility and has amazing potential for growth, for God to step in and shake things up.

We were not created to figure everything out by ourselves.

I love being in a small group when someone shares something I had not thought of at all. Those are very cool times. Sometimes I don't know how to really incorporate the thoughts into the discussion, but that's okay. I just love learning from others.

That doesn't happen very well when no words are shared. It gets difficult.

I love the t.v. show, "House".

The main character, Dr. House, is an ass, yet he still seems almost completely dependent on others around him in order to come up with the correct diagnosis. It almost seems irrelevant who the others are that he has to bounce ideas off of.

He needs that flow of dialogue.

He needs others.

Simply having another person to talk with can make a profound difference. Words we say to ourselves can sound drastically different from words we still say to ourselves but allow others to hear.

I think it gives us new ears to hear a lot of truths, and maybe they're not that easy to hear, but they're often necessary.

And on a lighter note...

Flangeroti muffdeechuck.

If that doesn't make you laugh, that's alright. I wouldn't worry about it.


Much snow was shoveled today. It was good. My sore back will forgive me, hopefully.

I love the snow.

I don't particularly love traveling down the highway with snow billowing in my face, obscuring my vision beyond twenty feet. I don't particularly love walking in snow drifts that fill my shoes with powdery coldness. I don't particularly love skidding through intersections or spinning my tires while a line of traffic impatiently waits behind me.

But I love the snow.

I love Jesus, too.

I don't particularly love sacrificing my own personal comfort for the sake of obedience. I don't particularly love receiving conviction for the sin that I so often embrace. I don't particularly love the fact that accepting God's grace means I must embrace my own inadequacy.

But I love Jesus.

There are so many things that are just innately worthy of love. All the stuff related to them may not be quite so lovely, but that doesn't change their essence.

The purity of snow.

The perfection of Christ.

Both worthy of love, both a gift from above.

Yeah, I consider that pretty light.

Know Thyself

Sometimes I follow passionately. Sometimes I turn my back on the path to wholeness. Which do you think is more painful?

The answer isn't always simple.

"Take up your cross, deny yourself..."

Those words keep ringing in my ears.

But I am all that I am. If I deny myself, what will I have left?

God is faithful. But trusting in Him is frightening.

It's so much easier to build the life I think will make me happy, will bring me joy and peace, as opposed to a life of suffering sacrifice, a life as a servant of all. I'm told that is the true essence of life, where I will find true joy and peace. I've seen it. Or at least I've seen the brochure.

I would rather serve myself. I can see the benefit to that. I can watch the bricks laid down, one by one. I can watch my empire grow and behold its wonder. But I can also watch it crash. A castle of stone? No, rather a house of cards.

And so I pray as such. I pray that God will destroy all that I create for myself, day by day. I pray that He will bring me to my knees and that I will know the pain of serving myself.

Because that's where true pain is to be found. Not in the nails that pierce my sinful flesh, but in its life within me, a life that I've known far too intimately.

I often can't even visualize the life of discipleship for me. I've served myself so long, so diligently, that I struggle to envision a life outside of that. And it's frightening. I know myself. At least I think I do.

I'm not sure that I know God. I don't think I really do.

Maybe a little, like someone you'd know through a friend-of-a-friend, but not so personally. I like to think that I know Him at times, but really, I don't know Him that well at all.

And when I realize that, I realize that I don't really know myself, either.

I don't know God. I don't know myself.

That can get lonely.

The Empire Strikes Back

I remember while I was at the "now defunct Covenant Bible College" (to quote Rob Horsley), that a good dude (and the president), Neil Josephson, would talk about the importance of "keeping the main thing the main thing."

This is so simple.

Yet so profound.

How often do I spend much time on things that are of so little value, as compared to little time on things that are of true and incomparable value? That's a rhetorical question, even to myself. The answer is obvious.

Jesus said there was only one thing that was needed.

"But seek first His kingdom and righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well." This kingdom works itself out in a lot of ways but boils down to 'love God and love others'.

But I often don't seek His kingdom.

I remember a few years ago, at Sunday morning worship, someone came up to me during the part where we greet one another and told me that they had a message for me. The message was simply to "seek Him first." That seemed simple. Too simple. Too vague and mysterious. And really, too impractical. At times it has seemed like a useless Christian cliche, or worse.

But behind all of my logical reasons to disregard the implications of such a command lies an unsettling knowledge of its validity. And its a bit scary.

If I'm seeking Him then I'm not seeking my own pleasure and comfort. If I'm seeking His kingdom then I'm not seeking my own empire. Can I really trust the life God desires for me? I usually manage to convince myself that my way is the best way, or at least the only way I could ever have courage to travel.

I was talking with a friend about how we seem to focus so much effort towards building our own empires rather than building the kingdom of God, as if what we could selfishly craft for ourselves could ever compare with what God is working at creating.

And yet, brick by brick, I build a life that inevitably keeps me from the One I was created for.

Hmm, I think I'll stick with this theme for a while.