Parables of Matthew 13

The Kingdom of God is Upon You:

The “Kingdom of God” is wherever God is King. We know that God is King in an area when His will is being obeyed. So, no matter what we are looking at, we can find the Kingdom by looking for God’s will being carried out. I propose that in figuring out where the Kingdom is, where it is at work, and how we can join in; Jesus is the key.

The thought process is simple, but not easy. If we are to be like those first century disciples, our first duty is to diligently look for the Kingdom of God. It is only when we have found it that we can join in the work, and so bring the Kingdom into our own hearts and lives.

In one of His duels with the Pharisees, the multitudes were becoming convinced that Jesus was indeed the Messiah of the Kingdom—because of His many miracles. The most convincing of the miracles was Jesus casting out demons; for surely, only God could have authority over the spiritual realm. The Pharisees told the people that Jesus was using Satan’s authority, and not God’s. And so they were committing the unforgiveable sin—to blaspheme the Spirit. Jesus’ response in Matthew 13 is classic:

“… if it is by the Spirit of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you.”

Christ’s claim was that He indeed was the Messiah, and that He had come to fulfill the Kingdom of God on earth.  If anyone truly desired to know if Jesus was God’s Savior, they could find out; but they had to be looking. Jesus wanted those in search of the Kingdom to have practical ways to discover it, and to join in its working. It is no wonder then, that after this duel with the Pharisees, He began to teach the crowds, and His disciples, parables beginning with “The Kingdom of God is like…”

The parables of Matthew chapter 13 were confusing. Jesus didn’t always give an explanation to them, which made them more confusing. Even His disciples had to ask for help in deciphering meaning. This, by the way, is awesomely right on the money. If we don’t know what the Word is saying, asking for help is the first step. Jesus is the key. Every time they ask for understanding, Jesus gives it to them.

Were the parables effective teaching tools, if indeed they were meant to be confusing? I believe that Jesus was using the medium of His message as a tool to communicate the very essence of the parables—the very essence of the Kingdom. Only people who search will find, and Jesus is the key to understanding and implementation.

It’s laughably true. People treat Christ’s parables in the same way they treat Him. They either struggle to find the truth, or they hide behind their questions.

For those committed to finding the truth, I propose using the following four step method; which is based upon Christ’s first parable (the parable of the sower).

1) Seek understanding.

2) Allow understanding of the truth to grow deeply in your heart.

3) Expect desires, especially those that are not inherently evil, to compete with that truth.

4) Wait expectantly for the implementation of that truth to transform your life, and the lives of the people you are around.

Jesus is the Key:

Jesus is the Key To Understanding. When we are seeking understanding of the parables, asking Jesus to reveal to us the truth is imperative. Jesus is the key to understanding. It is His Spirit that reveals all truth. Take a parable, and begin to pray that the Spirit would make known to you the truth. Furthermore, in virtually any parable, the key player/actor is not you—it is Jesus. You are not the sower, Jesus is. You are not the woman hiding the leaven, Jesus is. You are not the dragnet, Jesus is.

Jesus is the Key To Growth. Once we place Jesus as the primary player/actor in a parable, we can start to see the metaphor make sense. Now, we can begin to ask ourselves questions that make that truth show us where we are in relation to the Kingdom. In other words, we see what is lacking in our lives, and what kind of transformation God desires in our lives, in the Church, and in the world. Jesus is the key to this too; for we can compare our own hearts, actions, words, and relationships to His. Jesus is the standard to which we compare ourselves.

Jesus is the Key To Weeding Out Desires. As we ask for His truth to be revealed, and then compare our lives to His, we see how the Lord desires to bring about our obedience. This obedience is the Kingdom. Therefore, any thought, word, action, relationship, or desire that competes with this obedience must be taken out. This is work that only Jesus can do. Our prayers then are directed at our desires being changed. When our desires change, we find the Kingdom truth growing steadily, and our own hearts are not distracted from what God is doing in us.

Jesus is the Key To Transformation: We actually see the transformation, and it is contagious. When we are bearing Kingdom fruit, we can point to our lives, and other lives, being turned towards the Lord. The Kingdom is not just something that is growing in us, it is inspired into others. We become lights in a dark room, salt in a tasteless dish, and family to the orphan. Simply put, Jesus is not just acting in us, but acting through us. In this way, we start to violate the first step in what we are looking for: we start to see ourselves as the sower, ourselves as the woman hiding the leaven, ourselves as the dragnet.

Prayer is the Answer

I usually stress this every place I can. What I am proposing here is a lot of work. It may seem daunting. I know that it is for me. But, remember the first step, and repeat it all the way through.

Pray.

Prayer is the way we ask for truth. It is the way we see our disobedience. It is the way we can be given a heart of obedience. It is the way we join God in His Kingdom. It is the way we join the work of extending the Kingdom to others. Consider the prayer that Jesus taught us:

Our Father, who is in heaven, hallowed be your Name.

Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

For Yours is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory forever. Amen.

Nearness is Better than Curedness

Our pilgrimage was a success, from my perspective. I think, from God’s perspective too. A pilgrimage, like a fast, is only as spiritually focused as you make it.

And I struggled.

That’s part of what it means to be a pilgrim. You are volunteering to struggle under a heavy load. You hope and pray that in some way, God comes to meet you in the struggle. I asked each of the participants in this year’s pilgrimage to identify what they wanted God to transform in their lives—something that is out of our control.

For me, the pilgrimage was about my recent health issues being transformed. I wanted God to heal me. Bold. Improbable. Desperate. And yet, our Lord and Savior is able to do anything He wills. I was reminded of a passage from Mark, chapter 10:

And they came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped and said, “Call Him.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart. Get up; he is calling you.” And throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. And Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And the blind man said to him, “Rabbi, let me recover my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.

While struggling up a steep grade, which went on for miles, I felt like the blind man Bartimaeus; crying out without answer—knowing Jesus was out there performing miracles, but without the ability to come to Him myself.

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

We reached the top of Mount Coeur d’Alene, and I dropped my pack and went on without the rest of the group for a bit. I circled around to another campground (to see if it was a better spot for us to spend the night), and came back the long way. Finally, I felt the presence of God, as I puffed my way back up the trail.

The nearness of God is something I love to feel, but often, I do not. I try to pride myself on a faith that does not require a bunch of feelings to stay strong. But, I do need some feelings every once in a while. I need some strengthening and reminding that I am on the right path. Even John the Baptist sent messengers to Jesus, after John was in prison, to ask if He really was the Christ.

And there in the Presence, I felt the need to sing. And so I started singing the first song that came to mind, “Lean on me” by Bill Withers. After singing it, I felt like I should probably sing something a bit more spiritual.

And the words from Nearer my God to Thee came to mind. As I sang them, and the forest around me rang with those beautiful lyrics, I was touched by the deep truth of them:

                Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee

                Even though it be a cross that raises me.

                Still all my song shall be: nearer my God to Thee.

Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.

And there, in the aloneness and nearness of God, wandering up the mountain; God began to transform my sickness. He was speaking to me about my health, and what it is accomplishing in my life. Perhaps sickness is a cross to be carried.

Even though it be a cross that raises me.

I was reminded that sometimes the greatest gift God can give us is not a physical cure, but spiritual transformation.

I still want to be healed. I still pray for it. But, it no longer is what I am desperate for. I am desperate for Him. I want to be nearer to Him, and I’ll take any method He gives.

Still all my song shall be: nearer my God to Thee.

Jesus taught us in Matthew chapter 10, in plain language, what it means to be His true disciple: “…[W]hoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

The mark of a true disciple is the bearing of a cross. It’s not optional. It’s not like some people get a super spiritual call to suffer, while most people just get to follow—and so the smarter of the disciples figure out how to follow without bearing a cross. No. Even the most feeble, weak-kneed and palsied disciples are bearing a cross.

But Jesus also says in Matthew 11: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

For me, sometimes the problem with prayer is all the disappointment that follows. Sometimes the problem with a pilgrimage is you don’t get what you came for. But, [God bless the Rolling Stones] you get what you need. And, what you need is Him.

Somehow, our cross becomes a lightness when we are bound to Christ. In His mercy, He heals on a level that cannot be fathomed. In the pain and suffering of sickness we can draw nearer to Him. And in His presence, we find our peace; we find our hope; and we find a way to love.

Aerial Firefighting: an Open Questionnaire

As a follow up to "What do I want to do when I grow up", one of the more creative ideas to use my skills and abilities to serve God post-military is to fly a Single Engine Air Tanker (SEAT) as an aerial firefighter. Demand for the job is evidenced by the 6 million U.S. acres devastated by wildfires this summer, affecting both where I live in central CA and in my home state of WA. During their 100 day seasons, the SEAT mission is also critical to being the first responders to a fire, and helping contain it early, by using AT-802 air tractors to effectively and efficiently lay smaller loads of retardant or water from a nearby air attack base.

From my initial research, the career might be a good fit. I believe that fighting fires to protect life and property is a worthy cause, and that my skills, education, and experience as a military aviator have possibly prepared me well for such a career. As far as I can tell, it also matches my initial job goals: flexibility with where I want to live, a limited/predictable time away from family, an adventurous flying job (that pays at least part of the bills), and the opportunity to thrive.

The tactical problem: aside from a few hours of internet searching, and YouTube, I have very little perspective and information to help make such career decisions. I have the basic facts (which I'll spare you as the reader from reiterating here). There are few pilots, with some of my research suggesting there are fewer than 100 SEAT pilots nationwide. There are even fewer companies who fly them (my research coming up with about 14 total). Since my list of friends flying SEATs is small/nonexistent, to pursue more information, I will resort to the dreaded "cold call" tactic, starting with 2 or 3 contacts I have found online.

It's not an impossible one, only a rough place to start without a strategy. So, here's mine: a short 10 question survey to make the most effective and efficient use of the interviewee's time. Every day, I will attempt to conduct a short interview with an individual related to the SEAT business, whether by email, phone, or (preferably) in person, using the following questions. My goal is to maximize the info with the questions asked, as well as the order I choose to ask them.

1. Why did you choose SEATs?
2. What is your story/flying background, and how did you go about getting into the business?
3. (3 parts) What is a typical fire season like? A typical day like? A typical SEAT mission?
4. How would you characterize current market demand for the SEAT mission/pilots?
5. How would you characterize the culture of the SEAT community as a whole?
5. How would you characterize current SEAT pilot retention/turnover?
6. What qualifications & experience is a SEAT business looking for w/a new hire?
7. What are the expectations of a new SEAT pilot? What makes them successful?
8. What resources do you recommend to learn more about the career?
9. Given my personal goals/timeline, how can I prepare for this career now?
10. Is it worth it?

I hope to achieve success by A) focusing on the individual's perspective, B) minimizing my own role in the conversation, and C) being very open-ended with where the interviewee wants to take the conversation.

What do you think? How can I make this interview process more effective?

The Five Minute Auto-Writing Plan: Results

As a follow up to the previous post on writing, let me preface by way of saying that my stated goal of "automatic writing" has so far been successfully executed. I'm writing more, and with better quality.

Just not in the way that I imagined it would.

Small goals have a tendency to lead to big change. That's why Dave Ramsey's Money Makeover goes after the smallest debts first, some diets advocate changing one meal a day, how "Five Minute Cleanings" focus on small clutter disasters, and why my own daily "to do list" has focused on 3 or 4 main tasks.  As the individual accomplishes a small goal (in my case, five minutes of automatic writing), they start to gain momentum and sway their own motivation, often in surprising ways.

For me, I pursued my five minute goal by choosing to do this as the very first thing I did in the morning. I would wake up, ramble into my home office as quietly as possible (often unsuccessfully, waking my two young boys), open my beautiful red leather-bound journal which I purchased last week to support an independent Seattle bookstore, pick up my Skilcraft 3-in-1 pen, rotate the bevel to the black ink (sometimes mistaking it for red), and, in a pre-caffeinated daze, write down the first five minutes of thought came to mind.

Unbelievably, the words came. I would write about the first things on my to do list which nagged me throughout the night, some memories of the day before, a thought I'd had about a book I was reading, or a few things I was looking to about the present day. As much as possible, I refrained from reading what I wrote, as I was writing it, a difficult but necessary task in order to keep my momentum going. On several occasions, this resulted in mostly incoherent rubbish from half awakened dreams. Other times, it was marginally comprehensible, but mostly boring.

Then came three surprising things.

The first thing is that what I wrote with consistency. Five minutes each day was just too easy not to do. Sure, the quality left something to be desired, but the quantity was growing. The result: my desire had converted into a goal, which transformed into action, which became a pattern, and finally an addiction. I have written, at least in some degree, every day since that post, with the same habitual calling as that nicotine which pulls the smokers to their designated outside areas throughout each day. It should surprise you, dear reader, to realize that this is unprecedented for me.

My second unexpected discovery was that this prescribed process had a side effect of increasing the authenticity and connectedness to my emotions all on its own. While the quality of my morning writings seemed definitively static, during later writing sessions, I experienced a freedom and increased clarity to craft the words I wanted to write, and sensed a greater kinship towards what I wrote. It was like these "automatic" writing sessions were sifting through my subconscious to glean a richer quality of material underneath. Simply put, I was panning through the silt of the poor writing to reveal the gold. While I still have not uncovered any nuggets, at the very least, I now have some slivers to work with.

The third realization is that not only was I writing more, and writing better, but also I was hungry for more material. Whether it was an episode of The Wire, the narrative from an Audible book, a YouTube lecture, a conversation with my spouse, or a sermon series from the church I attended in South Korea, it didn't seem to matter. My subconscious wanted, and continues to demand, more.

So, there you have it. With one small change - prioritizing the first five minutes of my consciousness to automatic writing, I have set in motion a monstrous habit/addiction necessary to make me a better writer. I am writing more, I am writing better, and I am accessing more material to keep "the boys in the basement" busy (Stephen King's analogy, not mine). My next goal: apply my "five minute" principle to wholly dedicated, quality time with my boys & spouse.

The Writing Plan

My long-term goal: I'll just say it, even if my wife is (understandably) anxious about this dream. I want to write for a living, i.e. as a profession. I am a bit of an underdog for the part. Yes, I'm well educated, and yes, I'm well read. One might think these useful to developing writing skills, and in some respects they are. However, neither of these facts automatically make me a better writer. If anything, it sets the standard higher - I have no blissful ignorance to go with my desire to write, only an acute consciousness of how much my writing does suck. That's not a demeaning estimate translated into my self worth. It's just a realistic picture of where I stand now, and the daunting task ahead. I'm good (possibly great) at teaching F/A-18 pilots, because I have practiced to be an instructor for many years. I'm simply not there when it comes to writing. I may not be so bad as to make an incoherent piece of writing, but sometimes the coherence in it is limited to an audience of one (me).

There is a sense of a plan in my mind to become better. It's roughly formed, from my limited experience in writing and other areas which translate to the craft. They are composed of 3 elements. Here they are (in order of perceived importance):

1. Consistent, unhindered creative writing (aka automatic writing) even in small bits
2. Separating the creative process from the critical process (aka editing and peer review)
3. Organizing ideas and arguments in advance/throughout the process (characters, plots, arguments, ideas, etc) - aka (The Spark File)

To be honest, I struggle with all three of these. To be fair, every writer should. Most importantly though, I need to KEEP WRITING. The first step for me is just to get going, and to keep going. My desire is that by writing consistently, without hindrance or distraction, the quantity of writing will eventually translate into a quality I can hone by utilizing steps 2 and 3. What do you guys think?

GOAL: Each day, I will create at least a few hundred words of free-writing, or automatic writing, in order to strengthen the creational process by means of repetition. So far as I can help it, I will separate this from the critical process of writing.

What Do You Want To Do When You Grow Up?

"What do you want to do when you grow up?" The question is asked to every child. My 10-year old self would have answered without hesitation. "I want to fly fighter planes."

Now, I'm 32, I fly fighters, and my answer is uncertain. I simply don't know "what" I want to do when I grow up. As I prepare for the next transition (that being one to a civilian life), the apparent relevancy of the question increases. In fact, the true question of "what" actually deviates slightly from the root question. What is my element? Where are my aptitudes and abilities best suited to serve others? Does this intersect with my passions? Perhaps most of all (my wife can relate here), will it allow me to balance my priorities, family and lifestyle?

Perhaps you can relate. The answer, it seems, ought to come from a self-awareness of what activities we are naturally suited to, and which ones we can hone to prepare ourselves for a new job. It relates closely to what one might consider their vocation, or calling in life, and is completely unique because of our individual identities and where we live in time and place. Academics like Ken Robinson would say that finding our individual element is essential to achieving a balanced life. I wonder, who actually truly finds their element? Who can find it and stay in it for the duration of their life? I assert that it is difficult to answer the question of "what" our element is, without an understanding of "how" to do that job, and "why" we do it in the first place. The "why", it seems, is much more important, and must be grounded in a larger purpose for our existence.

From a faith-based perspective, the question of "what" we are to do for a living is less clear than "how" and "why" we work. This purpose has been explored and given more satisfactory answers by much smarter individuals than myself, long before the time and place we dwell in today. The Westminister Shorter Catechism, in the 17th century, explored the question, "What is man's chief end?" and determined the answer "to glorify God and enjoy him forever". Without digging too far into the theological meaning of this assertion (and all of the possible outcomes), let us simplify this to say the following: as a follower of Christ, my ultimate goal is first to glorify God by fearing, obeying, and knowing Him. Second, my ultimate goal is to enjoy Him, by experiencing joy and peace in the abundant life which comes from doing the first. In practice, that means "what" job I pursue is not nearly so important as "how" I pursue endeavors, and "why" I pursue it in the first place.

If I know the abstract "why" (to glorify and enjoy God), then the practical "how" stems from it. Colossians 3:17 says, "and whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him." (ESV) If one's true motivation for work is to glorify God, then we begin to act in a way consistent with the principle. It's a simple but powerful truth. When my identity is not found in what I do, but rather why I do it, and specifically "who" I am abiding in, there is a radical internal change in "how" I act day to day. 2 Timothy 2:15 agrees, "Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth" (ESV) Colossians 3:23 concurs, "Whatever you do, work heartily, as to the Lord and not to men". When we work in a way that exhibits a fear and obedience to God, and a desire to know him, a natural diligence springs from it.

These changes in "why" and "how" have very practical application to the workplace today. The follower of Christ ought to act with great diligence, justice, ethical and moral decision making, service to others, and a heartiness that results in joy and peace and abundant life. Our work ought to stand out.

So, then, we arrive at our conclusion. "Why" and "how" are of significantly greater importance than "what" work we do. Let's look at Colossians 3:23 again: "WHATEVER you do..." It is admonishing and encouraging us that "what" doesn't matter. We can rest in the peace of knowing that we are always in our "element" when we rest in God's sovereignty, and trust that he will lead us to the answer of "what" we do in His own time.

Sicario Trailer - First Impressions

In a word, this preview is intense. Trailer editing is practically an art these days, and Sicario covers the essentials: cinematography that depicts a taut series of resonant imagery (were those bodies in the wall?), familiar actors (Edge of Tomorrow's badass heroine Emily Blunt, for example) delivering suspenseful dialogue ("Spotter vehicle, left lane"..."Get your weapon out"), a score which propels the experience like an afterburner takeoff, and carefully depicted action to thrill the viewer. Filmmakers are given two minutes to enrapture the audience and create a coherent story in a preview, and this trailer achieves it to great effect for me.

Directed by Denis Villeneuve (Prisoner, Enemy), who is slated to helm Blade Runner 2, Sicario promises to be a high-tension, character-based thriller, centered on themes basic to the human experience: that there is creational good in the world, that something has gone very wrong along the way, and that this brokenness exists in each of us (spoiler alert: it's called sin). We are entangled and surrounded by it's nature; as Sicario's tagline states, "In this war, there are no borders between right and wrong". It is inevitable that no victory which can be achieved of our own will, and I predict that, "providing a measure of order that we could control" (as Josh Brolin's character states) will not work out very well.

Fortunately, this picture of the human experience is only a partial one. The gospel worldview teaches us that redemption and ultimate freedom from our bondage to sin is found in Jesus Christ, who has ransomed himself to set the captives free. Whether Sicario points the way has yet to be determined, but there is hope and not despair to be found in it's story for the follower of Christ.

Bros

Someone who knows me, picks up where we left off.

Laughing and looking for the bright spots.

There in the heartache, earning their worth,

There when we marry, bury, and birth.

We go to the mountains, and search for ourselves

Wonder at the future and the time we have left.

Little to explain as curiosity grows

Always complain about what we’ve chose

Cannot contain these best man bros.

A man with a brother is a man blessed.

15 Thoughts I Have Watching Every Game of Thrones Episode Ever

15. These opening credits last FOREVER. Good thing they are awesome...well, were awesome, 4 seasons ago.

14. Man, that Cersei is a real *****. All of the Lannisters need to die off ASAP.

13. I guess Jaime's Lannister's OK. He gets a bad rap, mostly. Don't kill him off.

12. Oh and Tyrion too. Somehow a dwarf getting drunk and delivering witty reparte is still funny. If this is a Game of Thrones, I hope he wins it.

11. Who's that guy again? 

10. Why is that dude important?

9. You know nothing, Jon Snow.

8. Wildlings and Northerners, can't you all just get along?

7. CAN'T EVERYONE JUST GET ALONG?

6. Okay, if they're not going to get along, lets get to the epic battles already.

5. Like with dragons. Man it would be awesome to see these dragons doing something.

4. Dear Arya & Sansa, your character development leaves something to be desired.

3. Man those Littlefinger/Varys guys are so sleazy.

2. Where's ____? Why isn't he/she in the story? Oh, that's right, they're dead already.

1. HODOR.

Spiritual Art of Penance: for Evangelicals

Penance for Evangelicals. Just as a note, I also posted this baby on my other blogspot: theologywhiplash.blogspot.com

I became aware of the idea of “penance” when I was studying for my 4 year degree. I was in a religion course that made good Evangelicals, like me, aware of other theological systems in Christianity. The idea of penance was almost laughable to me then; I thought of it as trying to earn forgiveness for sins. Every good Evangelical knows that is a stain upon the gospel. Jesus doesn’t require our good works in order to forgive us. Think “Thief on the cross.”

I was very unaware of how little I knew or understood, much less appreciated, theological reflection. I knew the right answers, and they came quick and easy. Such is the life of an inexperienced 19 year old. I thought penance was an old and stupid idea for people who weren’t satisfied with the Gospel truth that Jesus died for all sin, once and for all, and invites all humanity into a relationship with Him; forgiving all sins for those who accept it.

Little did I know, one day I would be pastoring a church. And when you pastor a church, certain truths are not so easy to dismiss or glaze over. To tell the truth, I now firmly believe in penance as a regular spiritual practice for those who have accepted the Gospel.

So what is penance? Is it really trying to earn salvation?

No. Actually, penance has less to do with earning what God is offering to us, and more to do with us accepting what is already there. In its proper place, penance allows us to stop wrestling with our sin, and start wrestling with our forgiveness. It usually is a task given to us by an ecclesial authority, formal or informal. It could be anything from saying prayers, or fasting, or a pilgrimage, or even completing some manual labor that benefits others. The tasks are supposed to be helpful, but mostly they are supposed to give us time to meditate on—and work out—this incredibly great forgiveness and life in Christ that we have been given.

A vignette of penance in the modern evangelical church.

A guy I know and love struggles with sexual addiction. I can tell you that any addiction, but sexual addiction in particular, is a seriously difficult problem to deal with on a spiritual level.

The problem with sexual stuff.

Part of the problem is the root of past sin. My buddy was sexually exploited as a child, and so the normative sexual appetites a man can expect have been broken. He has never experienced sexual normalcy. This is not his own failing. Sin has a way of victimizing people, whether we admit it or not. Furthermore, our culture (more than our churches, in my opinion) makes sexuality a shameful thing; by exploiting its intrigue to sell stuff. Our churches say “sex cements” (and they mean that it’s proper place is to bond people and lives together in the sacredness of marriage), but our culture says, “sex sells.”

My buddy had been thrown into a world where he had been sold… yes… but he had been unwillingly and unwittingly cemented to deep shame and reproach. The work of being set free by Jesus Christ is just that: work. And while I do believe we should shy away from any boasting that salvation can be earned; I think we, the evangelical church, have forgotten to work that salvation out.

And so, sadly, my buddy got virtually no help from his Christian community. Pastors seemed to only have one line, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you shall be saved.” His response was always, “I believe! But this sin is killing me!” The pastor could offer no other help. And when my buddy’s sin problem became an embarrassment to the church, he stopped receiving even that one line. Pastors seemed to say to him, “If one time forgiveness doesn’t work, you got to change. If you can’t change, then you need better help than I can give. Here’s the number to a good counselor that I know.” No offense to all my friends in the world of counseling and psycho-analytics; but I think we pastors have forgotten an age old pastoral tradition: penance.

So I invited my buddy on a pilgrimage. A pilgrimage is simple, you just walk with each other all day, for days on end. I asked each participant (Wait. No. no. Let’s call them “pilgrims,” shall we?) to identify spiritual goals that God was inviting them too. The goals were different for each pilgrim. One wanted to find God’s peace, another wanted to find spiritual strength, a non-Christian came to see what Christians were like while walking together, and of course, one man wanted to be set free from his sexual addiction.

And so we started each day with a meditation on Psalm 1, and Genesis 15. Then we walked, and walked and walked. We ended each day with a small fire, and another meditation. Then we’d get up and do it again. We prayed that every mile would get us closer to grasping God’s work in our lives, ever step a victorious step in sanctification, and every mountain an opportunity to struggle towards God.

I spent time with each pilgrim, as time allowed, praying for them, and talking through whatever God was doing in their lives.

“Rev. Shivers just went up my spine. Maybe God is going to set me free. Maybe this trip is going to allow me to finally lay down this burden.” My buddy said to me.

“Well, let’s walk it out. And pray.”

If the story ended with me telling you that the pilgrimage was a great one-time cure for my buddy, and that convinced you to try it out; you would be missing the whole point of this article.

The miraculous healing we wanted is not what God gave. Penance is never about manipulating God into doing what we want. But penance, in and of itself, is a grace that God gives to us to work out our salvation. That pilgrimage, for all intents and purposes, is the temporal answer to our struggle with God’s great salvation: Christians walking with each other, praying for each other, encouraging each other, and trusting God to do the work.

As such, the evangelical model of penance promotes the very antidote that Jesus established for serious, addictive, soul-crushing sin: A Christian community that continually (and oftentimes physically) brings one another to the Great Regenerator of Humanity—Jesus Christ.

This is how we get better. We walk it out with one another. The spiritual discipline of penance demands that the evangelical response to sin is not only, “That’s between you and God. Pray this prayer and you should be good.” But also, “Welcome to the inheritance of the saints! You belong here, and your struggle with sin does not disqualify you. We want to be reconciled to God, which while we still walk this Earth, is a never ending process we help each other with.”

Conclusion: The Girl On The Train, and Goodness vs. Greatness

Fast, furious, and as devoid of spoilers as I can manage: though it hung up slightly for me in the middle, and the strength of its characters waned just slightly (the "kidnapping" scene specifically), The Girl on the Train turned out to be a fun ride with a few good twists along the way. The parallels to Gillian Flynn are merited, not undesirably. On "Palmer's Scale of 1-10", I'd give it a solid 6 - better than the average novel, but short of greatness. Some will disagree with me here: it is, in fact, well written, with finely crafted story elements, honed structure, and satisfying in the heroic journeys of its characters. 

I wouldn't argue with that rebuttal. It is on par with other first novels by several authors I enjoy - Peter Heller's Dog Stars, Robin Sloan's Mr. Penumbra's 24 Hour Bookstore, Ernest Cline's Ready Player One, and Chad Harbach's The Art of Fielding, for example. My argument is only that it lacked a certain quality to elevate it from simply "entertaining" to some transcendent form of reading, which few books actually achieve. 

I theorize that it's hard to get a sense of the greatness in a book until I read more from an author. It takes time with them, and developing a relationship of sorts to understand their experience and worldview. Perhaps they need a period of getting comfortable in writing before they achieve it. Let's use David Mitchell as an example. Cloud Atlas is perhaps his finest novel, made deeper and richer through reading his first novels, and the ones which follow it, even when they don't achieve a similar greatness (or maybe, especially because of it). Why? Because I have more context for David Mitchell. I begin to understand how he got to Cloud Atlas, and where it has taken him since.

There's a line in Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood, which the protagonist states firmly that he will not read any author which has not been dead for 20 years. It is a curious statement which stands out from the rest of the narrative. There is no expressed conclusion to draw from it, and certainly Murakami was not endorsing the opinion by voicing it (he wants us to read his books today, not in 20 years). Nevertheless, I've thought a lot about that quote. The quote is really about selecting books to read that have been set apart by time, truth and authenticity: meaningful contact with readers across the dimension of time, how much the human experience rings true, and to what degree the author projects his own thoughts and feelings into it. By conclusion, he is making a statement as to what defines greatness in a book, and also making a qualitative judgment that we cannot determine it while the author is still living. 

No publisher wants to sell that book from a living author which will not be popular yet for many years. I have read a lot about the publishing market being over-saturated. There are still plenty of digital-era readers out there, but there are also a lot of books. Because there are a lot of books, authors must write with the broadest appeal possible so that their publishers make money, and the authors can continue to write. Only reputed authors have much freedom with their material, and then with a pseudonym if deemed too divergent. If Oprah endorses that book, or a blockbuster trilogy (or maybe quadrilogy!) is based on their series, the author has really hit it big, and achieved a different sort of "greatness", a financial one. So an aspiring writer is incentivized to write in such a way if they want a chance at achieving popular greatness. Experience tells us that said author need not even write great books, or even good ones (I'm looking at you, Divergence, Mockingbird, and Twilight). Good screenwriting/acting/directing/CGI can overcome bad books to make good movies for the sake of selling more of them. 

For better or worse, this is the world we live in. Writers must write, and publishers must publish accordingly, to minimize risks and make money. Cloud Atlas, in this sense, is an obscure Wachowski film that failed to make much money. The Girl on the Train should be viewed as a product of our time: it is a good book which has achieved commercial (and perhaps momentary) greatness. Dreamworks has already acquired the rights to film it. And it is a good enough story that I would watch the film, as well as read more of Hawkins. Underneath it all, however, is a lingering feeling that there is greatness waiting still for the one who would boldly write transcendent truth with authenticity.

A First Impression of The Girl on the Train

I'm a sucker for unreliable narrators. Yes, they're a bit of a liability, knowing that through the words on the page, they are subverting my thoughts and emotions for some future use, yet I read/watch on, either to be thrilled or disapppointed at the end: thrilled for the truth about human experience they reveal (ex. Memento, The Great Gatsby, The Blind Assassin), or disappointment for failing to expose it, by lack of resolution (The Catcher in the Rye) or the author's abuse of the technique. Unfortunately, most works fall into the latter category.

The Girl on the Train, a first novel by Paula Hawkins, is unique in that it has not just one but two unreliable narrators, Rachel and Megan, young women whose lives are apparently separate but will become increasingly similar, intertwined and complicated as the plot goes on. I am partially finished (23%, with 2.5 hours of reading to go, according to my Kindle), but pleased so far with the author's execution in its characters and literary technique (Editing note: I am told that there will be a third narrator, more on this to follow in my final review).

The two narrators, Rachel and Megan, are both unreliable in the sense that they are flawed and broken people, grappling with the consequences of their questionable judgments and decisions, carried out in their everyday actions. Rachel is a despondent alcoholic and jobless divorcee who (according to her) commutes on the train to London daily as part of an elaborate ruse to show her flatmate she is still employed. Her inebriated thoughts are laid bare for the reader in the mornings and evenings, as she passes by her old neighborhood, the home of her ex-husband (now remarried and with a child), and the home of a younger couple, who she names "Jess" and "Jason". Rachel is a sort of outside observer, seeing their lives unfold through glimpses in their window, fleeting moments at a time. Rachel imagines this as the life she could have had, experiencing pleasure at their joyful moments and simultaneous shame and guilt for failing to achieve this in her own life.

"Jess", as it turns out, is actually Megan, and her life is revealed to be somewhat different than Rachel imagines it. Megan is emotionally unsettled by her past, unhappy with her present marriage to "Jason" (Scott), and soon starts an extramarital affair with her psychologist. Her story, while more anchored in reality, still leaves the reader suspicious of what is about to come.

Scene One is set; insert Rachel's chance discovery of "Jess" kissing another man, one binge-fueled night Rachel cannot remember, a missing Megan, and we have ourselves a story. Hawkins has established an intriguing mystery that truly engages the reader with just the right amount of the right words to reveal what is happening, and we get the impression that every single sentence has been carefully crafted, to great effect in the reader's mind. It is carefully balanced between achieving intrigue by not telling the reader, and enough revelation of character and plot to keep the reader interested. While it deals with explicit material, it does not do so in an explicit way. The reading experience is not altogether different than how I felt reading Gone Girl, and I suppose that many will compare Hawkins to Gillian Flynn's works.

There is foreshadowing, metaphor, theme, and symbolism in abundance that I have not observed here, but I will reserve these judgments for when I have finished the book and had more time to digest what Hawkins has presented to us. Suffice it to say, however, that it is a pleasurable reading experience thus far, and I am interested to see how these characters grapple with the consequences of their choices, and what twists the plot takes. At this point, I'm along for the ride.

In my world, the discussion of truth, or Truth, is all part of the job. I discuss my truth, your truth, and occasionally the truth.

Most fun, for me, is to talk about ontological truth. Ontological truth, in my meaning, is free of needing any foundational argument laid out before it in order for the ontological truth to be… well… true.

Quick example: God is love. That’s an ontological truth. I used this ontological truth in my time in Iraq. I had many candid conversations with Muslim people, and we would talk about God. I have often been asked the question, “Is Allah the same as the Christian God?” And the truth can be worked backwards from our ontological truth. Hang with me.

The God I worship, no matter by what name I call Him, is love. So, it stands to reason that the God a Muslim worships, no matter what name they call Him by, could certainly be the same God that I worship. If, and it’s a big if, that God is love. Certainly the case works with my own Christian brothers and sisters as well. It doesn't matter how similar our worship is, or our names for God. If they are worshiping something other than Love—we cannot be worshiping the same God.

So a friend of mine told me that he stopped believing in Jesus. Our conversation went something like this:

Him, “I don’t believe in Jesus anymore. I don’t believe in the Church. I certainly don’t believe that all this theology that I was taught growing up.”

Me, “Interesting. Tell me, do you love your wife, or hate her.”

“What? I love her. What do you mean?”

“So you believe in love over hate. Love is good. Hate is bad.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“So you believe in love, forgiveness, self-sacrifice for your neighbor, and all that is good?”

“Of course. I just don’t believe in Jesus. And you don’t need to believe in Jesus to believe in love. And you’re not going to catch me in some kind of trap here.”

Me, “No, no. Of course not. You are much too smart for that. But you say you don’t believe in Jesus, but you do believe in love. You don’t believe in Jesus, but you do believe in truth. And for me, Jesus is those qualities—the very embodiment. So, whatever you think Jesus is, and reject; I probably think that’s good of you. The qualities that you still believe in are actually the very essence of Jesus.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

Me, “Yeah, you do. Let me try it again. Suppose you really liked fresh milk. You drink fresh milk, and find a brand of milk in the grocery store that is called ‘Fresh Milk.’ You buy a gallon of that ‘Fresh Milk’ milk, and when you get home you pour yourself a nice, tall glass. You drink it, and immediately you spit it out. It’s rotten. The ‘Fresh Milk’ milk is actually spoiled milk. You wouldn't then change your mind, and say: I actually don’t like fresh milk. You would laugh at the ‘Fresh Milk’ brand you bought and never buy it again; because it is not fresh milk, no matter what the brand says.”

Him, “Umm… maybe.”

End of conversation.

There are some pretty cool ontological truths that I am aware of; and their uses in my profession are myriad. I just gave you the first one, “God is Love.” The second I will give you is much like it, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.”

In churches especially, we are prone to be led to believe that something is from God when it actually is not. Sometimes you don’t need a deep meditation on what is from God and what is not. We have some ontological truths given to us in Scripture that are an easy standard to judge against. I don’t care what the preacher says, if the “movement” of God is creating hate, bitterness, unrest, impatience, spitefulness, self-centeredness, faithlessness, harshness, or indulgence; the thing cannot be from God.

Lastly, let me bring it on home. I counsel people in spiritual matters quite a lot. It’s part of my job. I get, “how do I know if this is from God?” quite a lot. You would be amazed at how many people don’t take who God is into account. For them, the question is a Pandora’s box, and best left to a spiritual expert to answer.

So, and this is the wild ending coming way out from left field, if you want to know what God is up to, or what He may have in store for you, or what His will might be, or if you have a destiny with Him, or what you should do in a given scenario: embrace and practice those things that God is. Love.

On the Reading of Old Books - A.M. Bigler
"It is a good rule, after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between...Not, of course, that there is any magic about the past. People were no cleverer than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes." - C.S. Lewis, "On the Reading of Old Books"

Is it a good rule, as Lewis proposes, to deliberately intermix new books with old? It depends. Perhaps we all do this on some level below conscious choosing - I myself have layered Joyce, Chandler, Le Carre, Fitzgerald or Hemingway with contemporaries such as Mitchell, Murakami and McCarthy without entirely intending it.

Curiously, while I am markedly deliberate about the books I choose, I am also constrained by my subconscious; that is to say, sometimes I find a book plucked from the queue deliberately to be one which I did not intend, and I cannot explain my rationale for choosing it. This when I had better reasons to pick differently - a newer, which I have thought about recently, or an author which I am already familiar with. Perhaps you may relate. 

Sven Birkerts may point to an answer in his observation of bookstore customers: "I see them standing in place with their necks tilted at a 45-degree angle, looking not for a specific book, but for a book they can trust to do the job. They want plot and character, sure, but what they really want is a vehicle that will bear them off to the reading state."(The Christian Imagination, p. 239). Is my subconscious seeking this on a level I cannot comprehend? This is a mystery to me.

A confession: When I first read Lewis' quote, I perceived that "old" and "new" implied whether the reader had already visited these works. Where Lewis had meant chronological to the world, I perceived as chronological to me. My first reaction to this quote was a twinge of guilt. If C.S. Lewis, a hero of mine, re-reads books with that frequency, why is it that I rarely do so? (With the exception of the Bible, only 1-2 books out of 50-70 are re-reads for me). Does that imply something negative about my reading habits (i.e. that I am "hooked" on a first experience, or too lazy to pull more out of what I read)? I could not adequately answer this question.

My second impression, which followed from a realization what he actually meant (albeit after longer delay than I am comfortable admitting), was relief. Of course, Lewis did not intend when he wrote that to inflict guilt and shame upon me. But was there something to why I felt the way I did when I perceived wrongly? Is it possible (and right) that we should re-visit a place on our literary journey, perhaps many places, with great frequency, and that this has meaning or value to us?

It is true that my first reading of a book "can become a blur to me soon after I've finished it", as Birkerts observes (p.230), and that I read a thing the first time for the pleasure of it, not seeking to draw much meaning, unless it comes to me much later through reflection and digestion (ex. The Grand Inquisitor passage of Brothers Karamazov). It is also true that I feel differently about a book when revisited, for better or worse, and often both. 

Why? Perhaps I become more conscious of the themes, or increase in my awareness of the creator's mental state. Perhaps I fear (rightfully) that some of the magic which induced my lucid state of pleasure will be absent, or at the very least, altered. Perhaps it is different because I am further down the road than before, and it no longer relates to my experience and thoughts as it did before. At the very least, it shifts my view of things: some books become valuable for my memory of reading them, and very few do not slip a bit in my fondness for them. 

For me, Starship Troopers is an example of the former, and Lord of the Rings, the latter. When I revisit the former, I see a moment in time: I am 21, learning new ideas about the world and shaping my thoughts on life. The book was life-altering at the time, but now it has little newness or added meaning to me, except for recollection of this memory. Lord of the Rings, though tedious at times, and while not nearly as bonding in first experience, has only grown in depth and meaning across different snapshots in my life. Where in one re-read I might be drawn to Frodo's peril, in another I find myself reflecting on quite a different aspect of Aragorn's admirable qualities.

Whether we like to admit it or not, the same is true of film, television, art, music, poetry, or any created thing of human hands. Since few works capture our imagination the same way the second time, we sometimes shy away from seeing them again, for fear that they should take on a different or lesser meaning to us, imprisoned in the original ways we have perceived them. My refrain from revisiting Cloud Atlas might be an example of this for me. 

The truth is that few books, films, etc. ever reach the pinnacle of greatness that morph and take on new meaning with every experience. Cautiously, I would put The Brothers Karamazov, Great Gatsby, and For Whom the Bell Tolls into this category. I have heard that Moby Dick speaks to a new decade in every reader's life, though I have yet to be tempted by a second read of it.

Perhaps this nature of books is not so bad: whether we find ourselves embarking upon a new journey, or reflecting upon an old one, one which has brought us from where we were before to where we are now, and point to where we are going, we can appreciate these old books for what they are: a pile of stones, a memory, marking the crossing of the Jordan. It is natural and intended that we should revisit them from time to time, even if our view of the rocks themselves loses the magic of the moment.

Post-script: A word of caution. It is equally fraught with peril that we should stay too long in these places, dwelling on the past like Uncle Rico's football days. In the end, it is with a balanced and proper view of things that we learn to honor God's presence in our past, the work he was doing, what he continues to do in the present through his grace, and give us hope for the future as characters in his grand narrative.