Crosswalk

I always laugh at people who stand on the street corner, constantly mashing the little button to signal the crosswalk sign to allow them to continue their course. They push it faster and harder, trying against hope that it will 'hear' them sooner and change on account of their persistence. Don't they understand that it is timed with the traffic? That they must wait until they are flowing with the traffic and not across the traffic? The timings, are to some extent, preset. Yes, there is an element of cause and effect. Pushing the button signals the presence of traffic, just as cars trigger the weight sensitive plates in the middle of the road. But even if nobody pushed the buttons, eventually the light would change on its own. The path is already open to them, if they could only see the larger picture.

Then I think about God's timing. The Way is already established. It is open to us. Our 'pushing the button,' accepting the call, in essence, is a signal that we are there, that we are ready. But God's timing isn't our own. We mash and push the button, demanding that the light change for us. But we fail to see the larger picture. We fail to see the wisdom of God's timing, not to allow us to be broadsided. The Way is there, and we will journey along our path, in His time.

Yet, there is a response. Push the button and the traffic sensors now know there is other traffic, and in due course the lights will change. And they will change, albeit sometimes seemingly imperceptibly, faster than if the button were not pushed. Hence, 2 Peter 3:12 where we "look forward to the day of God and speed its coming."

In Theory

I love ideas. I love to talk about, follow where they meander through the intellectual landscape, and I love seeing how everything fits together (because everything fits nicely in theory-world). However, I've recently been uneasy about dwelling on the theoretical as I become more and more aware that the practical concerns of everyday existence, and the experiential aspects of Christianity, in particular, are so often divorced from theory. Being 'purely academic' was becoming distasteful. And this change sounded good- in theory. But I've realized it's become a problem for me- I'm hardwired to be more theoretical. I draw a sense of life and a certain energy from mental pursuits. And, on the flip side, I've become more aware of my inadequacies in the practical, real world where you are supposed to get a job and earn money. I don't play that game very well, partially because it zaps me. There is nothing there to feed my spirit.
So I've been feeling a little down lately. But I think I'm on the beginning of an upswing thanks to a couple of books borrowed from my good friend Ike, The Divine Conspiracy and The Signature of Jesus. The latter does emphasize the experiential, which I still feel is crucial, but The Divine Conspiracy reveals that our actions stem from our thoughts. In essence, the practical stems from the theoretical. Everything that has ever been accomplished was born of an idea, relates Napolean Hill Theory may be divorced from the realm of the practical but only in the terms of time- it precedes the everyday, sometimes by a few months, sometimes a lifetime, sometimes even centuries may pass before an idea translates into life changing activity.
Ironically, now that I look back, the times when my practical life and behavior were most aligned with my spiritual values, was when I spent a lot of time in my head. Making connections, articulating new discoveries, developing awareness and understanding. It was only after I strayed away from these activities and concentrated on how I should be and behave, that my actions began to go to pot.
So I'm coming to grips with my God given talents and abilities- though they seem to have little to no application to life and they don't produce an income- and to not be ashamed. My ideas may have a vital role to play in the actions of myself and others. At least, it sounds good in theory.

Disappear

I attended the Rose Festival in Portland last night and heard a performance by a Christian artist named Mark Harris and he sang a song that had a chorus line talking about when we get to Heaven, there we will disappear. And something struck me.

I once had a nightmare that is the closest thing to a vision I've ever encountered. Visually there wasn't much to 'see' like you would with ordinary dreams, but there was a feeling, a sensation. I felt like I wasn't just going to die, but that my entire existence would be eradicated- there would be no me past, present, or future. There would be no record or memory of me having ever existed. (There is a minor controversy in the church regarding what happens to those going to hell. Do they live in eternal suffering and torment? Or do they experience a 'second death' and get completely obliterated? I now side with the latter due to 'personal experience.')

I've always been afraid of dying young. I guess in my vaulted self-image I felt I had too much to contribute and it would just be really sad if I expired before I could make a valuable contribution to this earth. But I've always been afraid of losing...me.

Yoda once said to Anakin Skywalker, "You must train yourself to let go of that which you fear to lose." I like the concept of training oneself- I think that is a key concept that we miss out on in our daily lives. A concept I, admittedly, am very poor at, but at least I'm thinking about it with the conviction that those thoughts will translate into action someday. But I suddenly saw a new application for this statement. I had thought about losing a loved one, or having to give up my art, my passion. But what about myself? I'm afraid of losing myself. And though it might not be generally wise to follow the advice of a computer animated green 'person,' I think there is some truth to what he said.

Jesus said whoever saves his own life will lose it, and whoever loses his life, for Christ's sake, will find it. Ironically, the thing that I fear the most, losing my life, is the very thing I must do. Either way, truthfully, I'm going to lose my life. The choice is whether I'm going to have it obliterated, or if I'm going to choose to give my life up, and contribute to the praise and glory of the One who gave it to me in the first place.