The Lightness of the Cross

I got married when I was 22 years old.

Which still seems shockingly young to a lot of people, including me.

Some time during the months before my wedding, a buddy of mine was razzing me about what a mistake I was making, not in marrying Rachel, but just marrying at all. About how much life I still had to live and how much I was going to miss out on and all the sacrifices I’d have to make and responsibilities I’d have to take on.

And I didn’t get upset with him because a) he was doing it in a spirit of fun and b) he was quoting me back to me.

See, four years previously, when no one should be thinking about marriage, my senior class was handing out most/least likely to… and I was voted Least Likely To Get Married. Not, I don’t think, because people were saying “no one will ever marry that jerk,” but because I was always talking about my big plans and how the one thing they didn’t include was marriage. Marriage was for other people…suckers.

So, it’s four years later and my buddy from high school is giving me a hard time and he says, “I thought you didn’t believe in marriage.” And I didn’t. But Rachel made a believer out of me.

And, the thing is, my friend wasn’t wrong about some of the things I wouldn’t get to do or the sacrifices I’d have to make or the responsibilities I’d have to take on. But when I think about the last 10 years and imagine missing them. That’s my nightmare.

Christians do a lot of talking about leaving everything behind to follow Jesus. And for a lot of people outside the church I think this seems fairly absurd. Christianity is for suckers, but not for them. And you hear a lot about “us” and “them” when it comes to who’s right about following Jesus.

But what you don’t hear as much about “us” is how often our lives agree with “them.” We want to believe in Jesus, but we don’t want to leave all to follow Him. We look at what Christ demands and we think of all the things we’d miss, all the sacrifices we’d have to make, all the responsibilities we’d have to take on. And so we believe in Jesus and we talk about Jesus, but we don’t really follow Jesus. Because we’re pretty sure that really following Jesus would be awful.

Which is sort of like if after I married Rachel I kept dating other women. If I kept hanging out with the guys every night or just sat in front of the TV. If I liked the idea of her being around, but not so much the sacrifices or the responsibility. If I tried to be married without really being married. I’ve known guys like that. And you know what’s weird? They’re miserable in their marriages.

Sort of like when I try to be a “Christian” without really being a Christian, without really being a follower of Christ. Avoiding all the sacrifices and responsibilities that I think are going to make me miserable only makes me into what Karl Barth called a “practical atheist.” And that makes me really miserable.

Following Christ means we have to let go of some things. Maybe our plans or our hopes or our desires. The control we try to have over our own lives. Our independence. Our grudges. Our sin.

But when we start to let go, we find that our lives are better. When we stop clinging to other things and start clinging to Christ, we find that all the added responsibilities and sacrifices are worth it.

I wish I could say I’ve always done that. But for a lot of my life as a Christian, I was more of a “practical atheist,” not much about my life actually showed that I believed Jesus was Lord or that I trusted in God’s will. But there were moments when I would take a real risk, take on real responsibility, make a real sacrifice, and those are the moments I never regret. My regrets are the moments when I was too afraid, too lazy, too stubborn.

Moving back to Austin to start Immanuel was one of those real risk moments for me. I had a comfortable life and a nice house and plenty of income. I had friends who suggested that Rachel and I were making a big mistake. They talked about the life we’d miss out on and the things we wouldn’t get to do and the sacrifices we’d have to make and the responsibilities we’d have to take on. And they weren’t wrong about any of that, But when I think about the last 4 years and imagine missing them. That’s my nightmare. Because I have grown closer to Christ and learned more about Him and become more like Him in the last 4 years than I had in the previous 10. 15. 20.

Imagine if Peter and Andrew and James and John had kept fishing. Imagine what they would have missed; the miracles they witnessed, the healing they did, the way their lives were forever changed by following Jesus. They got the chance to become fishers of men, casting nets not to catch fish, but to rescue humankind. But they didn’t know that before they started. No more than I knew how amazing the last 10 years would be or how rewarding the last 4 years would be. You have to take a step of faith and find out. You have to let go of your nets in order to take up your cross.

Now that doesn’t seem like much of a trade. Except that in taking up a cross you also follow Jesus.

And the Jesus who says, “take up your cross and follow me,” is the same one who says, “my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” And, for a long time, that didn’t make sense to me. But lately I’m beginning to see that the person I try to be apart from Jesus makes me more miserable than the one I’m called to be in Jesus. Following my own path and going my own way makes me miserable. Following Jesus might make me tired, but it never makes me miserable. His yoke is easy, His burden is light, His Way is better. Even if it leads to a cross.

Walking Partners

My wife and I have been talking about walking for years. Both of us could stand to be in better shape (me far more than her), but we tend to slip into old patterns as us humans are given to do.

But for the past 4 months, my wife has been walking. Regularly. Every weekday. Exceptions only for horrific weather or sickness. A true commitment.

So, what changed? What happened 4 months ago that turned talking into walking?

Nancy started showing up on our porch.

Nancy is our next door neighbor. She didn't show up uninvited (she's not crazy), she started showing up because of a pact that she and Rachel made to go walking every day. So, now Rachel gets up, even on the days when she doesn't particularly want to, because she knows Nancy is waiting on the porch.

This is how I imagine Christian community can be.

It begins with a covenant. I can't just start showing up at your house and dragging you out of bed. I need to know from you (and you from me) that we are both committed to walking the walk and not just talking about walking. That's step one. It's a big step.

Once the covenant is made, we have to begin showing up on each other's porches. We have to do a little sharpening of iron, no matter how much it hurts. "No discipline is pleasant at the time," the scriptures state, but we make commitments and keep commitments because we believe that the Way is worth walking in. With the understanding that everybody needs the occasional sick day, we stop making excuses for ourselves and begin asking more of each other.

What happens then is that the real work begins. Sometimes we push each other, sometimes we wait for each other. Sometimes we understand that we have to slow the pace so that others can catch up, sometimes we call each other to push through, knowing the necessity of forward motion. We can be patient with one another so long as we share an understanding that we can. not. stop. walking.

This is what I imagine church to be, a gathering of walking partners, a people committed to moving forward in the Way of Jesus. No promises of an easy road, just people to walk it with you.

So, who wants to walk with me? Who else is tired of just talking about walking?

What's Kester Reading/Listening To?

So, I'm thinking of starting up a series of music/book reviews called "What's Kester Reading?" and "What's Kester Listening To?"

Question, assuming the reviews are a regular occurrence (at least weekly), does this warrant its own website, or simply as a feature on this one?

On Fear and Death and God

Mortalism slides easily into nihilism. Rather than fearing God as our ancestors did, we now fear death; and so our scientific projects and materialist greed are driven by a massive dread of extinction.

-from Ralph Wood's Flannery O'Connor and the Christ-Haunted South

Equality and Prosperity

Why do I listen to Rush Limbaugh? I know he's going to make me angry and yet I keep trying to give him a fair hearing. Unfortunately, fair was just what Rush was railing against today.

Not surprisingly, Rush was less than thrilled with President Obama's inaugural speech. He argued that the speech attempted to marry fairness and growth or equality and prosperity, and that the two simply cannot go together. While I would disagree that fairness=equality, I'll address the culmination of the argument. Rush insists that we must make prosperity or equality our priority. Rush makes his choice perfectly clear, stating that prosperity must have its "have nots," but that "equality is shared misery."

I guess it's the Christian in me that takes issue with the American in Rush. I'm not saying that he is altogether wrong in his assessment of equality vs. prosperity (though he certainly oversimplifies it), but that his priorities are woefully misplaced and that his definition of equality is disturbing.

As a Christian, I would argue that prosperity should not be had at the expense of others. I would say that equality doesn't necessitate "shared misery", but that, if there is misery to be had, we will share it. I would insist that we cannot rejoice with those who rejoice unless we are also willing to weep with those who weep. I would remind us all that we follow the one who, "being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing." 

Rush is right that this kind of action certainly isn't fair. The right thing rarely is. Nothing could be less fair than for the true "Have" to make Himself nothing for the sake of "have nots." Nothing could be less fair than for one who is in "very nature God" would submit to death on a cross.

Rush and his ilk are right to argue that I can't expect the United States to seek Christian ideals, and it is my Kingdom citizenship that will always keep me from being a true patriot. But I refuse to compromise these ideals, nonetheless. I refuse to accept a reality that places personal prosperity over what is good. I refuse to embrace a system that must have its "have nots." 

Let us instead echo the words of Paul, to not seek our "own good, but the good of many, that they might be saved." Let us follow the One who shared in our misery in order that we all may be one in Christ Jesus.

New Monasticism

Check out this excellent bit of satire.

I was particularly struck by this lie that the modern American church has bought into:

The New Monastics’ emphasis on community is also misleading. Sure the Church in the book of Acts lived in proximity and shared resources, but that lifestyle was for the early Church only. No realistic Christian could advocate such a lifestyle today. Once the Bible came together as a complete book, community living and the exercise of Spiritual gifts ceased to be necessary. Today’s Christians are called to be independent, self-sustaining, and focused on improving themselves. This emphasis on communal living and sharing could easily lead to social gospelism, New Ageism and other disorders.

Wisdom From The Lorax

Unless someone like you cares a whole lot, nothing is going to get better, it's not.

The Church and The Ark

This morning a co-worker of mine shared an observation he had recently read about the church. He said that the author had compared the Church to Noah's Ark, concluding that "it stinks inside, but it's better than being outside."

I laughed, appreciating the joke and yet bothered by how much gets missed in the metaphor.

I think that for many people, both Christians and not, the Church can look like Noah's Ark; an unpleasant and crowded journey with the hope of reaching a better place. Non-Christians scoff at this as an unattractive solution to a problem that may or may not exist. Christians realize it's less than ideal, but don't want to get "left behind."

Unfortunately, this is the picture of the Church that we settle for, not the vision of the Church that we're given. Christ calls us into a community with a mission, into a gathering whose sole purpose is to make us, as C.S. Lewis famously wrote, into "little Christs." It isn't meant to offer a rather boring, often unbearable passage to heaven, but to invite us into a mysterious and miraculous knowledge of Christ. 

Now, the Church is made up of people, and people are messy; born of funk and feces and to funk and feces they shall return. And that funk is always with us, the stink is always on us. Get enough of us in a room together and it can be unbearable.

But this is why we are called, in Christ, to die to ourselves and be raised in Him. To begin to wash the funk off of us and to make us new. To create an experience that isn't so unbearable, but where we are called to "bear with one another in love."

I don't mean to say that the Church can be equated with the Kingdom or that we can ever make for ourselves a perfect world. But we are called to point the way to one, to be a signpost for those seeking the Kingdom. 

The good news is that, in Christ, the Kingdom is coming and has come. We live in the now and the not yet. And until the not yet becomes now, there will always be a bit of the Ark within the Church. But that isn't the whole story. We aren't called to simply sail along, safe but smelly, until we land someplace nicer. We are meant to live as those for whom the Kingdom has already begun to break through. We are called to reconcile the warning of the flood with the promise of the rainbow. We don't simply sit in the funk, but acknowledge and address it. And we are going out as much as we're inviting in, bringing hope to those without it and light to those in darkness. The Church isn't meant to be the great escape, but the beginning of God's great restoration project.

Sometimes being a part of the Church can stink. A lot. But our God who brings life out of death and shines light in the darkness is making all things new. And so this sweaty mass of bodies must remember that it is also the perfect Body, and must seek to live worthy of the name.

Or, to put it another way, a bit from Flannery O'Connor:

I think that the Church is the only thing that is going to make the terrible world we are coming to endurable; the only thing that makes the Church endurable is that it is somehow the Body of Christ and that on this we are fed. 

Stop Talking. Start Doing.

I'm ready to stop talking and start doing. And I can't do it alone. And I need to know who's with me.

Epiphany Thought

The celebration of Epiphany revolves around the story of the Magi and the response we make to the Light come into the world.

As I read this story this week, I ask these questions:

Other than God, what are some things in my life that have a claim on my allegiance?

There are things we give our allegiance to, and yet Christ demands our total allegiance. What are the ways in which my allegiance to Christ calls me to go "another way" from my allegiance to other things? How does allegiance to Christ critique my allegiance to family/work/nation?

The Magi come bearing gifts fit for a king or even a god. One of the ways we show our allegiance is in how we give/use our gifts. Does the way I give/use my gifts show an allegiance to other things or to Christ? Does Christ get the best I have to offer or just what's left once all other allegiances have had their share?