And so, my Lenten journey begins. Albeit, four days late.
Tonight I went to my parents house for dinner. We were celebrating my Grandmother's 85th birthday. My mom cooked, we sat around and talked, and we sang. It was really nice to spend time with my family. After all, one of the reasons I decided to move back to Oregon was to be here for moments like these, especially with family.
Shortly after dinner, I hit a wall. I was exhausted. Coming off my 17 hour day during Homecoming yesterday, and with a stomach full of delicious food, tiredness set in. This could be expected, and it really wasn't a big deal. After a little more conversation, my mom drove my grandparents back to their place. After she left my dad and I started talking about computers (we are both looking to get new ones), the condition of our lawns, and other not so important things. But in the midst of this conversation, I found myself getting annoyed at my dad. I don't know why. Perhaps the fact that I was tired played into it. But in and of itself, I think that excuse is a cop out. When there was a short break in dialog I said, "I'm going to take off." I hurriedly got in my car and drove away.
That's when it hit me that I was annoyed over nothing. I turned off the CD to think. I began to pray out loud for answers, for patience, for peace.
Unfortunately, in the midst of my busyness, I have found myself losing patience and getting annoyed more and more lately. As I prayed I knew that the answer is the need to slow down, to be still, to be more honest about my limits, to be quicker to lay my burdens before God. I started in the car. I forced myself to drive just below the speed limit, which was really tough for me. I thought of Matthew 11:28 when Jesus says "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest." This verse hangs on my wall in my bedroom, and I love the promise that it conveys. But how often do I take Jesus up on his promise? It starts with me needing to come.
When I got home I pulled out the Lent reader that my friend Mark Benjamin, our Director of Discipleship and Worship Arts, put together for the campus. I think God had Mark put it together for me specifically. One the first page it talks about returning to the basics: repentance and faith. Sounds like what I need to do. It also includes a quote from Thomas Merton that says "the greatest enemy of spiritual authenticity is busyness." More confirmation. (Refer to the name of this blog.) Mark also exhorts our community to "make an effort together this Lent to slow down and attempt to cultivate an attention for God." As if I needed any more confirmation that God wanted me to read this tonight, I came across this quote in the first devotional, "There is so much in me that needs to die: false attachments, greed and anger, impatience (bingo) and stinginess.
I end this blog with three final pieces from this devotional: a verse, a question, and a prayer.
Joel 2:12-13
"Even now," declares the Lord, "return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning." Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.
Question
How can I rejoice fully in your Resurrection when I have avoided participating in your death?
Prayer
O Lord, make this Lenten season different from the other ones. Let me find you again.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Friday, December 28, 2007
i've got a picture of jesus
"The baby that came, is the King that is coming."
Clint Baldwin, a professor at George Fox, shared those words during his brief talk at the Midyear Commencement Lunch a few weeks back. I heard them. I wrote them down. I have been thinking about them for about two weeks now.
It's a true statement. Jesus was born a mere baby, and later was revealed as the Savior. Someday (perhaps soon?) He will return as the victorious King. What stood out to me was how obvious, yet brilliant this statement was. Why do we (read I) always seem to compartmentalize Jesus? The baby is the shepherd; the shepherd is the carpenter; the carpenter is the miracle worker; the miracle worker is the zealot overturning the tables; the zealot overturning the tables is the guy on the cross; the guy on the cross is the the one who appeared to the disciples; the one who appeared to the disciples is the King who was in the beginning and will be in the end, forever.
Still, for some reason we seldom think of Jesus with all of this at once together. Maybe like Will Ferrell in Talladega Nights we all have a favorite version of Jesus.
Clint Baldwin, a professor at George Fox, shared those words during his brief talk at the Midyear Commencement Lunch a few weeks back. I heard them. I wrote them down. I have been thinking about them for about two weeks now.
It's a true statement. Jesus was born a mere baby, and later was revealed as the Savior. Someday (perhaps soon?) He will return as the victorious King. What stood out to me was how obvious, yet brilliant this statement was. Why do we (read I) always seem to compartmentalize Jesus? The baby is the shepherd; the shepherd is the carpenter; the carpenter is the miracle worker; the miracle worker is the zealot overturning the tables; the zealot overturning the tables is the guy on the cross; the guy on the cross is the the one who appeared to the disciples; the one who appeared to the disciples is the King who was in the beginning and will be in the end, forever.
Still, for some reason we seldom think of Jesus with all of this at once together. Maybe like Will Ferrell in Talladega Nights we all have a favorite version of Jesus.
Monday, November 19, 2007
a coffeehouse catharsis
A while back I had plans to meet a couple of students at Chapters (a local coffee/book shop here in Newberg) for coffee. Somehow, I got the time wrong and ended up sitting at the table alone, a full hour before they were to show up. As someone who would sit in a coffeehouse for hours each day if I were able to, I decided to take advantage of my newly found extra time; I started browsing through books.
I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just something that would catch my eye, or my fancy. (Side note: Do I really have a fancy? And if so, where is it located?) I thumbed through Good to Great a management book that another student had recommended. I quickly realized that it was not what I was looking for at that particular moment. My slow meander continued from the front to the back of the store. Near the back, I came to the Christian book section where I decided to look for books by Henri Nouwen.
I didn't know much about Nouwen. In fact, until I arrived at George Fox, I don't know that I had ever heard of him. On campus though, he seemed to be everywhere: quoted in chapel, brought up in meetings, and name dropped in random conversations. All I knew about him was that some pretty smart people, people that I look up to and respect, seemed to think quite highly of him.
On a bottom shelf, I found two or three of his books. Not knowing if one was better than the others, I selected the one with the best looking cover (that could be an interesting blog topic), In the Name of Jesus. I also think the book's tagline had something to do my choice. "Reflections on Christian Leadership" was too strong of a hook for me to resist. As a Christian who has always considered myself a leader, and who is now becoming more certain of the need for these two characteristics to be permanently yoked together, I returned to my table with this little book in tow and began reading.
Due to my "type A" inclination I dutifully read the Acknowledgments, Prologue, and Introduction before getting into the book itself. I'll be honest, they didn't change my life. If Nouwen was some sort of spiritual genius, I didn't yet see why. Then I hit chapter one. Less than two pages in, I came across a sentence that hit me squarely between the eyes.
"I am deeply convinced that the Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self."
Shortly after reading this, the two guys that I was meeting with walked in. Still stunned by the rawness of Nouwen's words, I quickly copied them down so that I wouldn't forget them. I went home that night still thinking of this passage, almost haunted by its call. The next day I bought the book and finished it. I enjoyed reading the rest of it, but could not get past this one sentence. In fact, this quote is one of the primary reasons I decided to create this blog.
I have a desire to be more vulnerable with those around me; to share my heart. It's just not something that comes naturally to me. I pray that over time it will.
I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just something that would catch my eye, or my fancy. (Side note: Do I really have a fancy? And if so, where is it located?) I thumbed through Good to Great a management book that another student had recommended. I quickly realized that it was not what I was looking for at that particular moment. My slow meander continued from the front to the back of the store. Near the back, I came to the Christian book section where I decided to look for books by Henri Nouwen.
I didn't know much about Nouwen. In fact, until I arrived at George Fox, I don't know that I had ever heard of him. On campus though, he seemed to be everywhere: quoted in chapel, brought up in meetings, and name dropped in random conversations. All I knew about him was that some pretty smart people, people that I look up to and respect, seemed to think quite highly of him.
On a bottom shelf, I found two or three of his books. Not knowing if one was better than the others, I selected the one with the best looking cover (that could be an interesting blog topic), In the Name of Jesus. I also think the book's tagline had something to do my choice. "Reflections on Christian Leadership" was too strong of a hook for me to resist. As a Christian who has always considered myself a leader, and who is now becoming more certain of the need for these two characteristics to be permanently yoked together, I returned to my table with this little book in tow and began reading.
Due to my "type A" inclination I dutifully read the Acknowledgments, Prologue, and Introduction before getting into the book itself. I'll be honest, they didn't change my life. If Nouwen was some sort of spiritual genius, I didn't yet see why. Then I hit chapter one. Less than two pages in, I came across a sentence that hit me squarely between the eyes.
"I am deeply convinced that the Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self."
Shortly after reading this, the two guys that I was meeting with walked in. Still stunned by the rawness of Nouwen's words, I quickly copied them down so that I wouldn't forget them. I went home that night still thinking of this passage, almost haunted by its call. The next day I bought the book and finished it. I enjoyed reading the rest of it, but could not get past this one sentence. In fact, this quote is one of the primary reasons I decided to create this blog.
I have a desire to be more vulnerable with those around me; to share my heart. It's just not something that comes naturally to me. I pray that over time it will.
Monday, November 5, 2007
confessions of a people pleaser
Hello. My name is Robby, and I'm a people pleaser.
This is the simple realization that I've come to in recent months; or perhaps it is only in the past few months that I have been willing to admit it to myself.
I don't fully know the implications of this realization, nor do I know the extent of this tendency in my life. What I do know is that this tendency (or is it a desire) is fairly far reaching. I know that I am no longer willing to accept it as a given in my life. I also know that I should spend far more time, far more energy, and far more attention on trying to please my Lord and Savior, then on the people around me.
As I am writing this, I have been looking for a verse to include that speaks to this issue: partially to give me a proper Biblical perspective on the issue, and partially to seem wise to any who read this (will anyone read this?). Of course, that second reason illustrates perfectly the need for the title of my Blog, "an attempt at authenticity," and the title of this post. As I looked for a verse, I felt certain there was something in the Bible that addressed my situation, although I wasn't even sure. Without a idea of where to look specifically, I went to the concordance.
Amazingly enough, when I turned to one of the verses it was already underlined. Apparently, the verse stood out to me at some point in the past, probably because I have been a people pleaser for as long as I can remember.
Galatians 1:10
"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."
Perhaps this verse is why I have felt so confronted by this truth of my life. By attempting to please those around me, I have failed to be a servant of Christ. I do things for my glory, not for His. My paradigm is backwards, skewed, incongruent with who it is that I want to be, who I was made to be.
Even in minimal things like this blog, my perspective has been all wrong. I created this blog nearly two months ago, and yet until tonight have not posted anything. I was too worried about what to write. I wanted to have an amazingly epic blog, with deep insights that others would be compelled to complement me on. What I failed to notice was that this desire was in direct conflict with my very motivation for creating the blog (and thus it's title).
I am a people pleaser. But I'm no longer willing to accept that fact as a truth of my life.
May God help me to seek his pleasure alone!
This is the simple realization that I've come to in recent months; or perhaps it is only in the past few months that I have been willing to admit it to myself.
I don't fully know the implications of this realization, nor do I know the extent of this tendency in my life. What I do know is that this tendency (or is it a desire) is fairly far reaching. I know that I am no longer willing to accept it as a given in my life. I also know that I should spend far more time, far more energy, and far more attention on trying to please my Lord and Savior, then on the people around me.
As I am writing this, I have been looking for a verse to include that speaks to this issue: partially to give me a proper Biblical perspective on the issue, and partially to seem wise to any who read this (will anyone read this?). Of course, that second reason illustrates perfectly the need for the title of my Blog, "an attempt at authenticity," and the title of this post. As I looked for a verse, I felt certain there was something in the Bible that addressed my situation, although I wasn't even sure. Without a idea of where to look specifically, I went to the concordance.
Amazingly enough, when I turned to one of the verses it was already underlined. Apparently, the verse stood out to me at some point in the past, probably because I have been a people pleaser for as long as I can remember.
Galatians 1:10
"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."
Perhaps this verse is why I have felt so confronted by this truth of my life. By attempting to please those around me, I have failed to be a servant of Christ. I do things for my glory, not for His. My paradigm is backwards, skewed, incongruent with who it is that I want to be, who I was made to be.
Even in minimal things like this blog, my perspective has been all wrong. I created this blog nearly two months ago, and yet until tonight have not posted anything. I was too worried about what to write. I wanted to have an amazingly epic blog, with deep insights that others would be compelled to complement me on. What I failed to notice was that this desire was in direct conflict with my very motivation for creating the blog (and thus it's title).
I am a people pleaser. But I'm no longer willing to accept that fact as a truth of my life.
May God help me to seek his pleasure alone!
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