I know, I know -- it's been a while since the last post. I promised to live every day in the Vine, but knew I couldn't blog every day in the Vine. This was one crazy couple of weeks.
Which leads me to today's post.
The new lingo, thanks to the digital age, includes the phrase I hear all the time now: Off-line. Someone in a meeting or call will say "we can talk about that off-line." Originally, that meant we could have a private conversation in an off-line (non-public) digital forum, but more and more it has come to mean that I want to have a conversation that is off the original agenda or away from others who may be in the current conversation. We go "off-line" -- as if it were a place that is somehow outside of the bounds of reality or away from consequence.
New phrase: off-Vine.
Going "off-Vine" isn't always so conscious. Sometimes it is -- sometimes, I purposely try to disconnect myself from the Source of all I know to be true in order to grab at something I think I want. "I need to have a private conversation with my lust, Jesus, so we're going to take this off-Vine for a little while." Going off-Vine is never for anything good, but usually means that I want to go play in my sinful nature for a while. More on this another time.
The off-Vine experience I want to focus on here, though, is less conscious. In fact, it's so insidious that we don't realize that we've gone off-Vine until we wake up a while later feeling all dry and shriveled (the only natural result of disconnecting from the Source of Life).
There are lots of reasons for this happening, and the New Testament is full of warnings by the apostles about it occurring.
The Galatians went off-Vine because someone told them that they were not really on-Vine to begin with unless they got circumcised. I think this happens a lot. I think we constantly look at some new theological position and think we've been doing it wrong all along and that we've been kidding ourselves. I was once part of a church that, in an era of total and complete group insanity, had convinced us all that if there was any sin in our lives, our faith, confession, and baptism were invalid. I and many others got "re-baptized." Eesh. I can't tell you how glad I am to have been rescued out of that situation. I still believe God wept the day that I decided -- as if it were mine to decide -- that my faith had all been in vein.
I think that's why God is so clear about our judging one another -- when we decide that someone else's faith isn't good enough or their theology is wrong or their leaves look off-color, we pull people off the Vine without ever even knowing it.
The rest of us go off-Vine for other reasons, bu the center is the same: we doubt without the help from anyone else. Did I really give my life to Christ? Did I truly believe? Was that simple act of faith actually enough? In other words, we question whether we were ever on the Vine in the first place.
Other know we were once on the Vine, but life isn't showing much evidence of it now. We can feel and fear the drought, we can only see our sinful nature's victories. We're our worst critics, or we're endless worriers.
Put me in all the above categories.
This was somewhat of an off-Vine week for me in a variety of ways. The drought has hit hard this week, the distractions are constant, the doubt and self-criticism is endless.
So -- time to put it all to rest:
First, for all the times this week when I let the sinful nature convince me to go off-Vine, there's an antidote:
"My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense--Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. 2 He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.
1 John 2:1-2 (NIV)
And for the times this week when I have allowed doubt in my connection to thrive, there's an answer:
But you have an anointing from the Holy One, and all of you know the truth. 21 I do not write to you because you do not know the truth, but because you do know it and because no lie comes from the truth. 22 Who is the liar? It is the man who denies that Jesus is the Christ. Such a man is the antichrist--he denies the Father and the Son. 23 No one who denies the Son has the Father; whoever acknowledges the Son has the Father also. 24 See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you. If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father. 25 And this is what he promised us--even eternal life. 26 I am writing these things to you about those who are trying to lead you astray. 27 As for you, the anointing you received from him remains in you, and you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things and as that anointing is real, not counterfeit--just as it has taught you, remain in him. 1 John 2:20-27 (NIV)
And when I worry that even in the Vine, I could still wither from the drought:
This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. 17 If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? 18 Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. 19 This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence 20 whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. 21 Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God 22 and receive from him anything we ask, because we obey his commands and do what pleases him. 23 And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us. 24 Those who obey his commands live in him, and he in them. And this is how we know that he lives in us: We know it by the Spirit he gave us. 1 John 3:16-24 (NIV)
Toes in the water. That's the point here. It's why it's the first premise. Keep my toes in the water. Stay on-Vine. There's nothing I have to do but believe, and love everyone I can. That's it.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
DAY 6 (and 7)
Jan 6:
Two very interesting things happened today, both of them in my head.
On two occasions (almost three, but it took longer the third time), I walked into a situation that could have pushed my cynical button (also called my whiner button, complainer button, things-sure-are-pretty crappy-around-here button -- you get the idea) and instead had an instant thought of an alternate explanation for the situation that made me feel . . . fine.
Sounds silly, I know. But it's a big deal for me. My older sister and I have long spiritual talks on the phone around once a month, and we were just talking about this awful tendency all three of us siblings sometimes have to expect the worst, see the worst, assume the worst in some situations. By the way -- for both of us heathens who grew up about as far from holy as two kids can get, I can't tell you what it feels like to have a sister who also loves God, who I can spend time talking to about God and our faith. Two of them, even. It's pretty fantastic. More on that another day. Anyhow, just suffice it to say that I can go to the negative pretty fast. So it actually was noticeable to me that I literally stopped several potential sulks just by seeing the situation from a different angle.
we talked about Psalm 1 in Life Group last Sunday, Keith R shared the original Scripture from Jeremiah, saying how much it spoke to him:
"But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. 8 He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." Jer 17:7-8 (NIV)
Keith is one of those men who always puts a positive spin on things, and I love him for it. He's trained his head to focus on the true and not the immediately visible. That's what this verse in Jeremiah suggests. The tree doesn't fear when heat comes. It has no worries in a year of drought.
That implies two things, and leads me to the fifth premise:
THINGS LOOK DIFFERENT FROM THE VINE. In other words, if you're getting all that comes from being in the vine, it has to influence the way you look at things, the way you think about things, and the way you react to things.
Day 7:
Now let's get the controversy out of the way right away. This does NOT mean that every time you react to something with anything less than Christ, it's a sure sign you're off the vine. But it might mean that, for the moment, you've cut yourself off of the connection. God in, good out. No good coming out? You're not letting God in. But you just as easily could. It's not as if you're not able.
In our theme Scripture, John 15, Jesus ends the entire thing talking about love. Makes sense. If love is what's pumping through the Vine, then love is what beams out from the leaves and branches. Jesus said the same thought when he declared, "Each tree is recognized by its own fruit" (Luke 6:33).
I believed for years that I just wasn't capable of bearing good fruit. Guess what that thought did: kept me from being fully connected to the Vine. Sort of like striking out every time because you don't think you're able to hit the ball. This is why faith is at the center of it all: I have to believe that God's power -- and love -- is stronger than my batting average. So, yesterday, it was cool to get a glimpse that I could -- without thinking about it -- simply respond to life from the sap that was feeding me. It is possible. Good to know. Funny -- it's pretty hard to shine love and forgiveness if you're convinced that none of it is coming to you. First task to seeing things from the vine is to see yourself from the vine. The Vine is pretty happy to have you there. For a long time, I thought the Vine tolerated having me there. Untrue. At least that's why Jesus kept talking about the value of the one lost sheep/coin/pearl. That's me. And you.
Well, those are the five premises. Time to dig in, grow some roots into them, and see what blooms. And all with a little grace for the times that we still -- I still -- pinch off the source.
I believed
Two very interesting things happened today, both of them in my head.
On two occasions (almost three, but it took longer the third time), I walked into a situation that could have pushed my cynical button (also called my whiner button, complainer button, things-sure-are-pretty crappy-around-here button -- you get the idea) and instead had an instant thought of an alternate explanation for the situation that made me feel . . . fine.
Sounds silly, I know. But it's a big deal for me. My older sister and I have long spiritual talks on the phone around once a month, and we were just talking about this awful tendency all three of us siblings sometimes have to expect the worst, see the worst, assume the worst in some situations. By the way -- for both of us heathens who grew up about as far from holy as two kids can get, I can't tell you what it feels like to have a sister who also loves God, who I can spend time talking to about God and our faith. Two of them, even. It's pretty fantastic. More on that another day. Anyhow, just suffice it to say that I can go to the negative pretty fast. So it actually was noticeable to me that I literally stopped several potential sulks just by seeing the situation from a different angle.
we talked about Psalm 1 in Life Group last Sunday, Keith R shared the original Scripture from Jeremiah, saying how much it spoke to him:
"But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. 8 He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." Jer 17:7-8 (NIV)
Keith is one of those men who always puts a positive spin on things, and I love him for it. He's trained his head to focus on the true and not the immediately visible. That's what this verse in Jeremiah suggests. The tree doesn't fear when heat comes. It has no worries in a year of drought.
That implies two things, and leads me to the fifth premise:
THINGS LOOK DIFFERENT FROM THE VINE. In other words, if you're getting all that comes from being in the vine, it has to influence the way you look at things, the way you think about things, and the way you react to things.
Day 7:
Now let's get the controversy out of the way right away. This does NOT mean that every time you react to something with anything less than Christ, it's a sure sign you're off the vine. But it might mean that, for the moment, you've cut yourself off of the connection. God in, good out. No good coming out? You're not letting God in. But you just as easily could. It's not as if you're not able.
In our theme Scripture, John 15, Jesus ends the entire thing talking about love. Makes sense. If love is what's pumping through the Vine, then love is what beams out from the leaves and branches. Jesus said the same thought when he declared, "Each tree is recognized by its own fruit" (Luke 6:33).
I believed for years that I just wasn't capable of bearing good fruit. Guess what that thought did: kept me from being fully connected to the Vine. Sort of like striking out every time because you don't think you're able to hit the ball. This is why faith is at the center of it all: I have to believe that God's power -- and love -- is stronger than my batting average. So, yesterday, it was cool to get a glimpse that I could -- without thinking about it -- simply respond to life from the sap that was feeding me. It is possible. Good to know. Funny -- it's pretty hard to shine love and forgiveness if you're convinced that none of it is coming to you. First task to seeing things from the vine is to see yourself from the vine. The Vine is pretty happy to have you there. For a long time, I thought the Vine tolerated having me there. Untrue. At least that's why Jesus kept talking about the value of the one lost sheep/coin/pearl. That's me. And you.
Well, those are the five premises. Time to dig in, grow some roots into them, and see what blooms. And all with a little grace for the times that we still -- I still -- pinch off the source.
I believed
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Day 3: Introducing premises 3 & 4
Day 3. A pretty good day, overall. I don't expect every one of these "in the vine" days to be rockets and red glare. In fact, the steadiness of it all is delightful to me. I've always wondered what "standing on the rock" felt like. It feels solid. Steady.
Great Life Group this morning -- I introduced the series to the group, and shared the two theme Scriptures. So many wonderful insights came pouring out -- the role of distractions, the concept of fruit -- lots of great stuff to study through. The insights from the group are always so rich, and honest. And humble. What an answer to prayer. Give me a thousand humble people sitting in a room trying to figure it out together, all with the intent to make the most of every part of their faith over a single biblical scholar who is more interested in all they know than how any of it is lived. Any day. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Yep.
Premise 3 is about fruit, by the way:
BLOSSOMS AWAY. Fruit actually blossoms or blooms, which is what makes Spring such a wonderful season. From that stone cold, seemingly dead branch comes this bud that busts out and -- surprise! -- has this wonderful blossom that eventually turns into fruit. I tend to think about the final product of it all -- the ripened apple ready for picking. But by then, the miracle is done, the fruit is old hat. The blossom is the exciting part, the segment where truly the impossible becomes possible.
We'll need to spend a lot of time on fruit, because I've had lots of misdirection and confusion about this, and I imagine others have too. Religious groups have turned fruit into a spiritual quota system. My spiritual adolescence was spent in a church that counted and judged members based on their individual "fruit" -- the number of people who came to Christ through that member. I remember dreading leadership team meetings because the accountability felt like a sales meeting: How many did you invite this week? How many guests at bible study did you bring this week? How many have you baptized this week? At least in sales, there's a bonus at the end of the year. Or you're fired. In the Christianity I was exposed to, that meant that the unfruitful branch was cut off and burned -- a whole new meaning to getting "fired" by God. Removed. Hopeless. No wonder I tried to perform my Christianity. I was trying to save my job.
Anyway, I've learned that there's much, much more to fruit, and we'll talk through it all in the coming weeks, because I sure don't understand it all yet. One more premise for the night, because it's been on my mind all weekend:
TRUST THE VINE. I do (and teach) a lot of community organizing, and so I work with a lot of novice community organizers around the country. When I was one of those novice community organizers (not so very long ago) my mentor shared a phrase to calm both of us down when it seemed like we were getting nowhere in a hurry and everything we had tried to establish was falling apart. She'd say, "Trust the process." That meant that some things were simply out of your control, but that they were set in motion with an intelligent design that always eventually yields results. You don't need to panic and jump in. The process will come through.
The same thing is true about God. It's all about trust. If God says that we should stay connected to vine, and that when we do anything we ask for will be given to us, then that's the process we can trust. If he says that the tree planted by water survives any drought, then it does.
I'm the first one to panic and try to take over -- DO something to fix the situation. And I usually make a bigger mess of it all.
Part of this is simply not understanding the entire process. My mentor never organized by blind faith -- far from it. She carefully and strategically set things up so that people could identify her goals with their interests. It would be ridiculous for her to trust a process she didn't fully put into place, or to trust a process she didn't understand. So understanding the process of how staying connected to Vine yields fruit and flourishing leaves is important.
But the second part is pure trust, which is in low supply these days, at least for me. I've been tricked and duped every which way these past 49 years, and I am leery, to say the least, about almost everything. God has led me on more "trust-building adventures" than I care to share, and I still struggle. I know I'm not alone in this, either.
Romans Chapter 4 has an interesting take on trust:
13 That famous promise God gave Abraham—that he and his children would possess the earth—was not given because of something Abraham did or would do. It was based on God's decision to put everything together for him, which Abraham then entered when he believed. 14 If those who get what God gives them only get it by doing everything they are told to do and filling out all the right forms properly signed, that eliminates personal trust completely and turns the promise into an ironclad contract! That's not a holy promise; that's a business deal. 15 A contract drawn up by a hard-nosed lawyer and with plenty of fine print only makes sure that you will never be able to collect. But if there is no contract in the first place, simply a promise—and God's promise at that—you can't break it. Romans 4:13-15 (MSG)
Ouch. I try to make deals with God all the time. I've even used "fruit" as my portion of the contract. But I certainly have been learning that it's not a "deal" I strike with God. My obligation to get the goods isn't staying on the vine. Quite the opposite. I cling to the vine because that's where all the good stuff is. And it's all there just waiting for me. I CAN trust the Vine -- not, I MUST trust Vine.
So much to understand. so much to learn.
Great Life Group this morning -- I introduced the series to the group, and shared the two theme Scriptures. So many wonderful insights came pouring out -- the role of distractions, the concept of fruit -- lots of great stuff to study through. The insights from the group are always so rich, and honest. And humble. What an answer to prayer. Give me a thousand humble people sitting in a room trying to figure it out together, all with the intent to make the most of every part of their faith over a single biblical scholar who is more interested in all they know than how any of it is lived. Any day. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Yep.
Premise 3 is about fruit, by the way:
BLOSSOMS AWAY. Fruit actually blossoms or blooms, which is what makes Spring such a wonderful season. From that stone cold, seemingly dead branch comes this bud that busts out and -- surprise! -- has this wonderful blossom that eventually turns into fruit. I tend to think about the final product of it all -- the ripened apple ready for picking. But by then, the miracle is done, the fruit is old hat. The blossom is the exciting part, the segment where truly the impossible becomes possible.
We'll need to spend a lot of time on fruit, because I've had lots of misdirection and confusion about this, and I imagine others have too. Religious groups have turned fruit into a spiritual quota system. My spiritual adolescence was spent in a church that counted and judged members based on their individual "fruit" -- the number of people who came to Christ through that member. I remember dreading leadership team meetings because the accountability felt like a sales meeting: How many did you invite this week? How many guests at bible study did you bring this week? How many have you baptized this week? At least in sales, there's a bonus at the end of the year. Or you're fired. In the Christianity I was exposed to, that meant that the unfruitful branch was cut off and burned -- a whole new meaning to getting "fired" by God. Removed. Hopeless. No wonder I tried to perform my Christianity. I was trying to save my job.
Anyway, I've learned that there's much, much more to fruit, and we'll talk through it all in the coming weeks, because I sure don't understand it all yet. One more premise for the night, because it's been on my mind all weekend:
TRUST THE VINE. I do (and teach) a lot of community organizing, and so I work with a lot of novice community organizers around the country. When I was one of those novice community organizers (not so very long ago) my mentor shared a phrase to calm both of us down when it seemed like we were getting nowhere in a hurry and everything we had tried to establish was falling apart. She'd say, "Trust the process." That meant that some things were simply out of your control, but that they were set in motion with an intelligent design that always eventually yields results. You don't need to panic and jump in. The process will come through.
The same thing is true about God. It's all about trust. If God says that we should stay connected to vine, and that when we do anything we ask for will be given to us, then that's the process we can trust. If he says that the tree planted by water survives any drought, then it does.
I'm the first one to panic and try to take over -- DO something to fix the situation. And I usually make a bigger mess of it all.
Part of this is simply not understanding the entire process. My mentor never organized by blind faith -- far from it. She carefully and strategically set things up so that people could identify her goals with their interests. It would be ridiculous for her to trust a process she didn't fully put into place, or to trust a process she didn't understand. So understanding the process of how staying connected to Vine yields fruit and flourishing leaves is important.
But the second part is pure trust, which is in low supply these days, at least for me. I've been tricked and duped every which way these past 49 years, and I am leery, to say the least, about almost everything. God has led me on more "trust-building adventures" than I care to share, and I still struggle. I know I'm not alone in this, either.
Romans Chapter 4 has an interesting take on trust:
13 That famous promise God gave Abraham—that he and his children would possess the earth—was not given because of something Abraham did or would do. It was based on God's decision to put everything together for him, which Abraham then entered when he believed. 14 If those who get what God gives them only get it by doing everything they are told to do and filling out all the right forms properly signed, that eliminates personal trust completely and turns the promise into an ironclad contract! That's not a holy promise; that's a business deal. 15 A contract drawn up by a hard-nosed lawyer and with plenty of fine print only makes sure that you will never be able to collect. But if there is no contract in the first place, simply a promise—and God's promise at that—you can't break it. Romans 4:13-15 (MSG)
Ouch. I try to make deals with God all the time. I've even used "fruit" as my portion of the contract. But I certainly have been learning that it's not a "deal" I strike with God. My obligation to get the goods isn't staying on the vine. Quite the opposite. I cling to the vine because that's where all the good stuff is. And it's all there just waiting for me. I CAN trust the Vine -- not, I MUST trust Vine.
So much to understand. so much to learn.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Day One: Resolved to Connect
Well, it's January 1st, 2010. Let the vine-connected experience begin.
To get through the year, I'm going to lay out five premises that will drive me. All five need much further exploration, but I think the week-long prelude and ponderings (and study) have led me to these, and they need to be introduced now. No doubt more will be added along the way. I'll start with the first two today:
1) TOES IN THE WATER. To flourish and bear fruit, you've got to be connected to the Source. That's the botany. The branch can't survive when torn off from the Vine.
Psalm 1 describes this a different way. The tree that flourishes is planted next to the water. It doesn't take much botany to understand that the closer to the source of life for a plant -- water -- the better the plant will do. The leaf doesn't wither, because it's always well fed. Jesus tells the woman at the well that "Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst—not ever. The water I give will be an artesian spring within, gushing fountains of endless life."
John 4:13-14 (MSG)
So -- staying dry and withered is a condition with only one solution: get those roots in that water. Since I don't have roots, I'll imagine sinking my toes in when I get dry. You should have heard me all day today -- every time something gave me stress or concern, I kept saying to myself: Toes in the water! Hope it sticks with me all year.
2) THE WATER IS RIGHT THERE. Sticking my toes in when I feel dry is one thing. Believing that the water is right there for me is another. Behind premise #1 is a bigger challenge: I've got to trust that there is truly a stream of water right there for me, waiting for me to dig my roots in deep. I must know that I won't be disappointed.
This is no easy task for me, thanks to two false premises that I am resolved to conquer this year, because they've kept me parched for far too long:
a) Not for me: Somewhere I picked up this belief that having an endless supply of everything I need available to me out of sheer love -- unearned and given without condition -- may be available to others but is not available for me. I think I've spent way too many years trying hard to prove myself worthy enough to have it, and finding way too many reasons for why I'm disqualified for it.
b) Gotta find my own: Since I was very young, I just figured that good things didn't come to me freely. I had to fight and connive and earn good things. I had to make them.
I don't know exactly when these premises originated and clung to my thinking, but I know I've had them for a very, very long time. They are both without Scriptural basis. And I could probably find hundreds of experiences in my life that, if I fully looked at them objectively, would prove these premises false.
But the funny thing about beliefs is this: once you believe something, your eyes become trained to see from that basis. Experiences look like what you believe they are or can be. So you prove your beliefs right. So the only answer is to start believing differently -- to remind myself as many times as it takes, "hey -- dummy --the water is RIGHT THERE. Toes in, man!"
Eventually, I hope to say it without calling myself "dummy." Baby steps.
One Scripture that has stuck in my head a lot this year has been Hebrews 11:1.
1 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Heb 11:1 (NIV) In other words, quit using your eyes and ears to look for evidence. The evidence isn't in life's circumstances or surroundings. In fact, it's the opposite. If you believe the water is there, even if you can't see it, it is there. And the more you believe, the more you'll start to see it.
That's a lot more to talk about on that one. We'll get there.
So -- toes in the water. The water is right there. I'm a tree planted by streams of water. Here we grow.
To get through the year, I'm going to lay out five premises that will drive me. All five need much further exploration, but I think the week-long prelude and ponderings (and study) have led me to these, and they need to be introduced now. No doubt more will be added along the way. I'll start with the first two today:
1) TOES IN THE WATER. To flourish and bear fruit, you've got to be connected to the Source. That's the botany. The branch can't survive when torn off from the Vine.
Psalm 1 describes this a different way. The tree that flourishes is planted next to the water. It doesn't take much botany to understand that the closer to the source of life for a plant -- water -- the better the plant will do. The leaf doesn't wither, because it's always well fed. Jesus tells the woman at the well that "Anyone who drinks the water I give will never thirst—not ever. The water I give will be an artesian spring within, gushing fountains of endless life."
John 4:13-14 (MSG)
So -- staying dry and withered is a condition with only one solution: get those roots in that water. Since I don't have roots, I'll imagine sinking my toes in when I get dry. You should have heard me all day today -- every time something gave me stress or concern, I kept saying to myself: Toes in the water! Hope it sticks with me all year.
2) THE WATER IS RIGHT THERE. Sticking my toes in when I feel dry is one thing. Believing that the water is right there for me is another. Behind premise #1 is a bigger challenge: I've got to trust that there is truly a stream of water right there for me, waiting for me to dig my roots in deep. I must know that I won't be disappointed.
This is no easy task for me, thanks to two false premises that I am resolved to conquer this year, because they've kept me parched for far too long:
a) Not for me: Somewhere I picked up this belief that having an endless supply of everything I need available to me out of sheer love -- unearned and given without condition -- may be available to others but is not available for me. I think I've spent way too many years trying hard to prove myself worthy enough to have it, and finding way too many reasons for why I'm disqualified for it.
b) Gotta find my own: Since I was very young, I just figured that good things didn't come to me freely. I had to fight and connive and earn good things. I had to make them.
I don't know exactly when these premises originated and clung to my thinking, but I know I've had them for a very, very long time. They are both without Scriptural basis. And I could probably find hundreds of experiences in my life that, if I fully looked at them objectively, would prove these premises false.
But the funny thing about beliefs is this: once you believe something, your eyes become trained to see from that basis. Experiences look like what you believe they are or can be. So you prove your beliefs right. So the only answer is to start believing differently -- to remind myself as many times as it takes, "hey -- dummy --the water is RIGHT THERE. Toes in, man!"
Eventually, I hope to say it without calling myself "dummy." Baby steps.
One Scripture that has stuck in my head a lot this year has been Hebrews 11:1.
1 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Heb 11:1 (NIV) In other words, quit using your eyes and ears to look for evidence. The evidence isn't in life's circumstances or surroundings. In fact, it's the opposite. If you believe the water is there, even if you can't see it, it is there. And the more you believe, the more you'll start to see it.
That's a lot more to talk about on that one. We'll get there.
So -- toes in the water. The water is right there. I'm a tree planted by streams of water. Here we grow.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Life In the Vine: December 29, 2009
Okay, my fellow botanists: its time to get our hands dirty.
I don't know all that much about botany, actually. Funny, because I grew up on a plant nursery. My step-father was a landscaper/nurseryman, and from age 7 to age 17, we lived in front of my step-dad's business, with a 13 acre nursery as our back yard. Some summers I would weed with the migrant workers, trying to learn enough Spanish to understand their making fun of me. For a few days, I even went with them to cut people's lawns. I was awful at all of it. I deeply appreciated the plants -- loved them, actually. But it was clear that plants, shrubs, trees, lawns, or much of anything to do with landscaping was going to be in my long-term future. To this day, I can barely keep anything in my own yard alive.
But the referent of the metaphor here is (luckily) quite simple to grasp. Every plant is anchored deeply into the ground by a set of roots that soak in all the water and nutrients, spreading these out to all parts of the plant. The tree that grows and flourishes is the one that has unlimited access to water and nutrients and a great pipeline system that makes sure every part of the tree benefits. Healthy plants just keep growing and growing and growing. So, when you see healthy branches, full of bright, strong leaves, what you're really seeing is an excellent root system. But that root system is only as good as the leaf's ability to get all that good stuff.
As for the spiritual signifier, well, that may take us all year to fully grasp.
God uses the metaphor a lot. And he makes no bones about what it all means:
Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. 2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. 3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.
Psalms 1:1-3 (NIV)
I get it. When connected to the right Source, all is well. When not, well, then things die.
Getting there is another matter. I want to graft myself on, rather than grow out naturally. The Psalm says that it's a matter of behavior and meditation. I read that as "work yourself into the fruitful tree" but I don't think that's right.
Could I just be planted by streams of water and, not knowing it, keeping my roots from digging deeply in? Am I just barely hanging on the vine? And why, when the result is so obvious? What's the temptation to do it myself, without the help of the Source?
What's my problem, anyway?
I don't know all that much about botany, actually. Funny, because I grew up on a plant nursery. My step-father was a landscaper/nurseryman, and from age 7 to age 17, we lived in front of my step-dad's business, with a 13 acre nursery as our back yard. Some summers I would weed with the migrant workers, trying to learn enough Spanish to understand their making fun of me. For a few days, I even went with them to cut people's lawns. I was awful at all of it. I deeply appreciated the plants -- loved them, actually. But it was clear that plants, shrubs, trees, lawns, or much of anything to do with landscaping was going to be in my long-term future. To this day, I can barely keep anything in my own yard alive.
But the referent of the metaphor here is (luckily) quite simple to grasp. Every plant is anchored deeply into the ground by a set of roots that soak in all the water and nutrients, spreading these out to all parts of the plant. The tree that grows and flourishes is the one that has unlimited access to water and nutrients and a great pipeline system that makes sure every part of the tree benefits. Healthy plants just keep growing and growing and growing. So, when you see healthy branches, full of bright, strong leaves, what you're really seeing is an excellent root system. But that root system is only as good as the leaf's ability to get all that good stuff.
As for the spiritual signifier, well, that may take us all year to fully grasp.
God uses the metaphor a lot. And he makes no bones about what it all means:
Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. 2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he meditates day and night. 3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.
Psalms 1:1-3 (NIV)
I get it. When connected to the right Source, all is well. When not, well, then things die.
Getting there is another matter. I want to graft myself on, rather than grow out naturally. The Psalm says that it's a matter of behavior and meditation. I read that as "work yourself into the fruitful tree" but I don't think that's right.
Could I just be planted by streams of water and, not knowing it, keeping my roots from digging deeply in? Am I just barely hanging on the vine? And why, when the result is so obvious? What's the temptation to do it myself, without the help of the Source?
What's my problem, anyway?
Monday, December 28, 2009
December 28, 2009
I spent all day yesterday sulking. Can you believe it? Sulking. Just like Jonah. I can't tell you why. Overactive empathy of a character study?
I also reread Saturday's post and thought, "Well, this doesn't make any sense." Actually, I thought, "You have no idea what you're talking about." Maybe that's why I sulked. Maybe it was my way of saying, "See, God, I told you this would happen. I'll write something stupid, something that at least 1000 biblical scholars will scoff at, and this entire blog thing will be nothing but embarrassing."
This is not good "in-the-vine" thinking.
What got me hung up was remembering what Jonah told God when he first started sulking: "I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity." Jonah 4:2 (NIV)
So, if he knew that God was so abounding in love, why was he sulking? Just two verses -- minutes, I can only imagine -- after uttering those words, the book then says that "5 Jonah went out and sat down at a place east of the city. There he made himself a shelter, sat in its shade and waited to see what would happen to the city." Jonah 4:5 (NIV)
What would happen to the city? Really? Even I know the answer to that one: nothing. They got it together. They reconnected. They were back in God's grace. So what on earth was Jonah expecting to see? God renege on the deal? The world's greatest bait and switch? Or did Jonah just say all that about God's unbounding love but didn't feel it himself?
I keep looking for answers to my own sulk. There are conditions to blame, of course. Problems that have hung around long and hard and don't show any signs of letting up. But I know better than that. I've just finished a four-month study in Joy, and all the answers that I found made perfect sense. Joy is not based on conditions. Joy is something that just blossoms out of a deeper understanding. At least, that's what unconditional joy is. Amazing how limited the effect of knowledge lasts.
Joy is also described as a fruit (Gal 5:22), which brings me right back to the entire "in the vine" thing.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."John 15:5 (NIV)
No connection, no joy. Sunday's sulk was simply about me being disconnected. I woke up this morning and was determined to leap out of the funk. I focused on the positive. I let go of the many, many conditions in my life that are way out of my control and turned them all over to God. I tried rampaging my appreciation. I forced myself to rethink the false premises, to replace them with the truth: God loves me. God wants the best for me. Things are good. Chill.
And then I got to work.
One of my jobs (I have several -- so why am I still so broke?) is with a government contract run out of a medical school. It's a wonderful job with wonderful people and a wonderful purpose. And it's the most tense, harried, negative place I've been around in years. Today was no exception. Within an hour of arriving, the tension and frustration had already mounted to a palpable level, and by noon, well, the insanity had moved to its usual high. It's hard to describe much of what happens there, but it often doesn't feel good.
Now, I've prepared for this; I've shared with several co-workers that my goal is to stay positive, to retain my joy despite the insanity, and to NOT be one of the many who degrade to a daylong gripe about it all. I've asked them to hold me accountable, to call me out, when they see me start to get that same tired, apathetic, bitter look in my eye. But by noon, I was back in my project manager's office (a Christian with an amazing heart and one of my self-imposed accountability partners), unloading the bile about another sabotaged project. Catching myself, I said, "I'm sorry. I'm doing it again. I'm supposed to rise above this." And she said, "No, you have a right to be angry about this."
4 God said, "What do you have to be angry about?" Jonah 4:4 (MSG)
Good question.
Better question: How do I keep the connection to pure love, pure joy, pure peace? How do I keep such a strong bond to the vine that all I feel is the lifeblood flowing in rather than the harsh winds stealing me dry?
2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers. Psalms 1:2-3 (NIV)
I also reread Saturday's post and thought, "Well, this doesn't make any sense." Actually, I thought, "You have no idea what you're talking about." Maybe that's why I sulked. Maybe it was my way of saying, "See, God, I told you this would happen. I'll write something stupid, something that at least 1000 biblical scholars will scoff at, and this entire blog thing will be nothing but embarrassing."
This is not good "in-the-vine" thinking.
What got me hung up was remembering what Jonah told God when he first started sulking: "I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity." Jonah 4:2 (NIV)
So, if he knew that God was so abounding in love, why was he sulking? Just two verses -- minutes, I can only imagine -- after uttering those words, the book then says that "5 Jonah went out and sat down at a place east of the city. There he made himself a shelter, sat in its shade and waited to see what would happen to the city." Jonah 4:5 (NIV)
What would happen to the city? Really? Even I know the answer to that one: nothing. They got it together. They reconnected. They were back in God's grace. So what on earth was Jonah expecting to see? God renege on the deal? The world's greatest bait and switch? Or did Jonah just say all that about God's unbounding love but didn't feel it himself?
I keep looking for answers to my own sulk. There are conditions to blame, of course. Problems that have hung around long and hard and don't show any signs of letting up. But I know better than that. I've just finished a four-month study in Joy, and all the answers that I found made perfect sense. Joy is not based on conditions. Joy is something that just blossoms out of a deeper understanding. At least, that's what unconditional joy is. Amazing how limited the effect of knowledge lasts.
Joy is also described as a fruit (Gal 5:22), which brings me right back to the entire "in the vine" thing.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."John 15:5 (NIV)
No connection, no joy. Sunday's sulk was simply about me being disconnected. I woke up this morning and was determined to leap out of the funk. I focused on the positive. I let go of the many, many conditions in my life that are way out of my control and turned them all over to God. I tried rampaging my appreciation. I forced myself to rethink the false premises, to replace them with the truth: God loves me. God wants the best for me. Things are good. Chill.
And then I got to work.
One of my jobs (I have several -- so why am I still so broke?) is with a government contract run out of a medical school. It's a wonderful job with wonderful people and a wonderful purpose. And it's the most tense, harried, negative place I've been around in years. Today was no exception. Within an hour of arriving, the tension and frustration had already mounted to a palpable level, and by noon, well, the insanity had moved to its usual high. It's hard to describe much of what happens there, but it often doesn't feel good.
Now, I've prepared for this; I've shared with several co-workers that my goal is to stay positive, to retain my joy despite the insanity, and to NOT be one of the many who degrade to a daylong gripe about it all. I've asked them to hold me accountable, to call me out, when they see me start to get that same tired, apathetic, bitter look in my eye. But by noon, I was back in my project manager's office (a Christian with an amazing heart and one of my self-imposed accountability partners), unloading the bile about another sabotaged project. Catching myself, I said, "I'm sorry. I'm doing it again. I'm supposed to rise above this." And she said, "No, you have a right to be angry about this."
4 God said, "What do you have to be angry about?" Jonah 4:4 (MSG)
Good question.
Better question: How do I keep the connection to pure love, pure joy, pure peace? How do I keep such a strong bond to the vine that all I feel is the lifeblood flowing in rather than the harsh winds stealing me dry?
2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers. Psalms 1:2-3 (NIV)
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Life in the Vine: December 26. 2009
Holidays make me nervous.
Holidays are the time when disasters feel especially poignant and disturbing. This morning's Chronicle was full of these stories: the single Mom found murdered by her children on Christmas Day, the terrorist plot on a Christmas Day flight. The heart attacks. The suicides. The family fights. I want to rush through the holiday, get it over and done with, so that somehow the associated risks of tragedy will diminish -- as if the holiday itself brought them on.
It's like that all year for me. Thanksgiving, Easter, Fourth of July. My birthday is the worst.
I (and my therapists) have decided this comes from years of growing up in an alcoholic family, which actually turned out to be a family with a bipolar mother who used alcohol (and anything else she could get her hands on) to medicate herhelf. The result was the same: I never knew what to expect, so I expected the worst. The birthdays have more to do with abandonment. Somewhere in my dim memory is an image of me being left alone on my birthday at a neighbor's house while the family was tending to some Mom-based emergency. I think I was five.
I've made a life-long habit of not celebrating much of anything for fear that it triggered some kind of disaster. I would rest in good times with one eye open, convinced that the better the circumstances, the more ready for disaster I should be.
The leaf on the vine doesn't expect anything but more nutrition headed down the pipeline. It doesn't expect to be ticked at the last minute with herbicide.
So, here's Jonah, sitting around, ticked at God for saving people and telling God that he'd rather die than face the futility of it all. He's sitting and waiting for disaster -- God wiping out all those people. He expects it. But instead, this vine grows up around him and gives him shade -- the Bible says pleasure -- in the middle of expected disaster.
I love the version of the story from the Message translation:
5 But Jonah just left. He went out of the city to the east and sat down in a sulk. He put together a makeshift shelter of leafy branches and sat there in the shade to see what would happen to the city. 6 God arranged for a broad-leafed tree to spring up. It grew over Jonah to cool him off and get him out of his angry sulk. Jonah was pleased and enjoyed the shade. Life was looking up. 7 But then God sent a worm. By dawn of the next day, the worm had bored into the shade tree and it withered away. 8 The sun came up and God sent a hot, blistering wind from the east. The sun beat down on Jonah's head and he started to faint. He prayed to die: "I'm better off dead!" Jonah 4:5-8 (MSG)
I can't help but wonder if Jonah thought, "See -- nothing good ever happens to me. The minute I get a little shade tree growing, some worm comes and wrecks it. How typical!" I would have.
But finally, God explains the entire deal:
9 Then God said to Jonah, "What right do you have to get angry about this shade tree?" Jonah said, "Plenty of right. It's made me angry enough to die!" 10 God said, "What's this? How is it that you can change your feelings from pleasure to anger overnight about a mere shade tree that you did nothing to get? You neither planted nor watered it. It grew up one night and died the next night. 11 So, why can't I likewise change what I feel about Nineveh from anger to pleasure, this big city of more than a hundred and twenty thousand childlike people who don't yet know right from wrong, to say nothing of all the innocent animals?"
Jonah 4:9-11 (MSG)
Part of me wants to say: So, God is fickle? He changes his mind? That makes me just a pawn in God's game -- the recipient of random acts of kindness or punishment, all of which live outside of my control? But that would be thinking like Jonah (something I'm good at). Jonah, like me, is a control freak. I like to make things happen on my own, and don't trust anything that happens under some other source of power.
But that thinking represents the major flawed premise, the missing fact: God isn't focused on disaster and more than the vine is focused on the death of the branches and leaves. The whole point is to make it thrive. Ninevah wasn't thriving. It was dying. God reconected the Ninevah branch so that the leaves could flourish. Jonah saw a wrathful God, and expected the wrath to mess up his life as well.
I don't know Jonah's life-story -- it isn't given in the book. But if it was like mine (and I suspect it was), then Jonah was one pessimistic man, perhaps for as good of reasons as I have. But the reasons are unimportant. The premise is flawed. So God sends Jonah to watch Ninevah get reconnected to the vine and flourish -- just to show him that reconnecting branches and leaves so that they'll flourish is what He's all about.
It's the expectation of disaster that is the problem. For Jonah. For me. I look at the shade tree, and assume the worm is coming tonight. And in doing so, I don't see the gift of the shade tree at all. Or realize that some worm had a marvelous meal that night, and that a new tree can -- and will -- take its place for me tomorrow.
Holidays are the time when disasters feel especially poignant and disturbing. This morning's Chronicle was full of these stories: the single Mom found murdered by her children on Christmas Day, the terrorist plot on a Christmas Day flight. The heart attacks. The suicides. The family fights. I want to rush through the holiday, get it over and done with, so that somehow the associated risks of tragedy will diminish -- as if the holiday itself brought them on.
It's like that all year for me. Thanksgiving, Easter, Fourth of July. My birthday is the worst.
I (and my therapists) have decided this comes from years of growing up in an alcoholic family, which actually turned out to be a family with a bipolar mother who used alcohol (and anything else she could get her hands on) to medicate herhelf. The result was the same: I never knew what to expect, so I expected the worst. The birthdays have more to do with abandonment. Somewhere in my dim memory is an image of me being left alone on my birthday at a neighbor's house while the family was tending to some Mom-based emergency. I think I was five.
I've made a life-long habit of not celebrating much of anything for fear that it triggered some kind of disaster. I would rest in good times with one eye open, convinced that the better the circumstances, the more ready for disaster I should be.
The leaf on the vine doesn't expect anything but more nutrition headed down the pipeline. It doesn't expect to be ticked at the last minute with herbicide.
So, here's Jonah, sitting around, ticked at God for saving people and telling God that he'd rather die than face the futility of it all. He's sitting and waiting for disaster -- God wiping out all those people. He expects it. But instead, this vine grows up around him and gives him shade -- the Bible says pleasure -- in the middle of expected disaster.
I love the version of the story from the Message translation:
5 But Jonah just left. He went out of the city to the east and sat down in a sulk. He put together a makeshift shelter of leafy branches and sat there in the shade to see what would happen to the city. 6 God arranged for a broad-leafed tree to spring up. It grew over Jonah to cool him off and get him out of his angry sulk. Jonah was pleased and enjoyed the shade. Life was looking up. 7 But then God sent a worm. By dawn of the next day, the worm had bored into the shade tree and it withered away. 8 The sun came up and God sent a hot, blistering wind from the east. The sun beat down on Jonah's head and he started to faint. He prayed to die: "I'm better off dead!" Jonah 4:5-8 (MSG)
I can't help but wonder if Jonah thought, "See -- nothing good ever happens to me. The minute I get a little shade tree growing, some worm comes and wrecks it. How typical!" I would have.
But finally, God explains the entire deal:
9 Then God said to Jonah, "What right do you have to get angry about this shade tree?" Jonah said, "Plenty of right. It's made me angry enough to die!" 10 God said, "What's this? How is it that you can change your feelings from pleasure to anger overnight about a mere shade tree that you did nothing to get? You neither planted nor watered it. It grew up one night and died the next night. 11 So, why can't I likewise change what I feel about Nineveh from anger to pleasure, this big city of more than a hundred and twenty thousand childlike people who don't yet know right from wrong, to say nothing of all the innocent animals?"
Jonah 4:9-11 (MSG)
Part of me wants to say: So, God is fickle? He changes his mind? That makes me just a pawn in God's game -- the recipient of random acts of kindness or punishment, all of which live outside of my control? But that would be thinking like Jonah (something I'm good at). Jonah, like me, is a control freak. I like to make things happen on my own, and don't trust anything that happens under some other source of power.
But that thinking represents the major flawed premise, the missing fact: God isn't focused on disaster and more than the vine is focused on the death of the branches and leaves. The whole point is to make it thrive. Ninevah wasn't thriving. It was dying. God reconected the Ninevah branch so that the leaves could flourish. Jonah saw a wrathful God, and expected the wrath to mess up his life as well.
I don't know Jonah's life-story -- it isn't given in the book. But if it was like mine (and I suspect it was), then Jonah was one pessimistic man, perhaps for as good of reasons as I have. But the reasons are unimportant. The premise is flawed. So God sends Jonah to watch Ninevah get reconnected to the vine and flourish -- just to show him that reconnecting branches and leaves so that they'll flourish is what He's all about.
It's the expectation of disaster that is the problem. For Jonah. For me. I look at the shade tree, and assume the worm is coming tonight. And in doing so, I don't see the gift of the shade tree at all. Or realize that some worm had a marvelous meal that night, and that a new tree can -- and will -- take its place for me tomorrow.
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