The will of God is a tough nut to crack, or is it?

Dear all,

I was working on a post about sheep vs. our intellect, and the more I got to thinking about the will of God and how to interpret it, the more difficult it became. I started out talking about how the will of God is vague when it comes to instructions for our everyday lives, issuing out instead broader strokes for how to live an ethical life but not specific about what to do in our careers, marriage, our finances, et cetera.
Then I thought perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps I'm avoiding the idea that really I and all of us have been called to surrender all our money, our ideas of job security, healthcare, comfort and careers, and live like Christ did, in voluntary poverty, serving the needy. And that's a scary thought.
I remember trying to read some of Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation, or worse Thomas A Kempis' The Imitation of Christ, and I found myself often not being able to take it because there was such a rejection, bordering on loathing, of the self and the joys of this world, versus the joy of Christ. I LIKE myself. I LIKE my desires. I LIKE my goals, my ambitions, my passions for things other than God. And for these texts to call me to shed that existence is a hard pill to swallow.
Sometimes I feel like you can't commit yourself to following Christ's words to the letter while also going after a successful career and raise a healthy secure family. Christ rejected his family and lived his life as a nomad: I do not long for that existence.
So to what degree are we called to follow absolutely in his and the apostles' footsteps, and to what degree are we called to do as they say, but not as they do? And do I have less faith if I say "No, I'm not going to give all my possessions to the poor and go around with only a robe and walking stick, thank you very much"? Am I ignoring the will of God? Am I a lost sheep, no longer following my shepherd?
All I can think of are questions for now. There's a book called "The Year of Living Biblically" which seems to apply to my predicament. I think I'll look it up.
Next up...a look at Suze Orman's teachings vs. the Gospels on money.

Working on post, re sheep and intellect

You caught me at the end of a very busy week: after finishing my last paper Wednesday morning at eight, I had two video projects to complete for freelance work before a trip to Albany with friends. Now that I'm settling back, I haven't got much to say except I could use your input on an idea for a post.
Earlier in the week, I was on my prayer site, Sacred Space, and came across that passage from John 10: "I am the Good Shepherd. I know my sheep and they know me." It's interesting that in our culture, being called sheep is somewhat derogatory- it usually brings to mind subservience, blind faith, a lack of intelligence. It robs us of our intellect and makes us into creatures governed by instincts and trained reactions.
What are your thoughts on the shepherd-sheep metaphor? How do you get around it?

GOD AND PAIN ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 10

It's so easy to lose perspective and gratitude in the midst of illness. I was down with the flu all week, and every day I was irritable, grouchy, and feeling sorry for myself.
Then I went to the doctor and she asked me to rank my pain on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being next to none, 10 absolutely exruciating. On the wall was a scale with a happy face next to #1 at the bottom, and at #10 the face of absolute friggin' agony, the tears pouring, the mouth stretched down to the edges of the chin. I don't think even Christ had it as bad as whatever happened to #10 face.
So the doctor asked "Where would you say you rank?" And I said "4." Then I thought, "4? After all this grouchiness and wallowing, I'm only a 4?" And I realized my perspective was as much in need of healing as my illness.
At my church group this Friday, we talked a bit about what brings perspective and emotional healing in the midst of suffering. One of the biggest needs is to just let people in. My friend Paul talked about a surgery he'd had around Christmastime: a group of carolers was making rounds at the hospital and wanted to stop by his room. At first, he told himself, "Screw them. I'm cranky. I don't want to hear any Christmas music." But he yielded to it and actually got into their rendition of "Jingle Bells."
My friend Isaac had my favorite story. He was about to go into the hospital for kidney stones, and he was in wrenching pain, crying his eyes out. Before he left the house, he stopped in front of the mirror and thought "If I'm going to go outside a crying mess, I'm going to at least keep some dignity." So he stopped, and went into the bathroom and applied some hair gel. And before he headed out to the e.r., he looked at himself in the mirror with his good hair and it brought a smile to his face.
Being sick can be a great opportunity, as much as a burden. And I believe God can bring good out of the hardship. I can't accept that God causes our illnesses and disease, but I believe we can grow closer to him through these experiences. Psalm 18:28 says, "You O Lord keep my lamp burning; my God can turn my darkness into light." The God we believe in can turn this life's lemons into lemonade.
So, I wish you health, but more importantly I wish you faith, despite whatever lemons may come your way. Have a great week.

Saying "So long, self"

Not much to say this week. I've been sick today, feeling quite depressed and tired. However my service tonight did me good. Our pastor, Rev. John Merz, spoke of the experience of the holiness of God in our lives as the "I:Thou" moments, a concept he learned from Martin Buber. Buber's idea was that there are two modes of daily living; "I-It" and "I-Thou." "I-It" is the way most of us function day to day, at a semi-unconscious mode of living. The way Merz put it was that in "I-It" most of the outside world is objectified, deadened, except for how it figures into our purposes and goals for the day.
Then there're the "I-Thou" moments where something happens that takes us completely out of our routine, out of our habitual responses, and brings us a connection with someone or something. A piece of music that flutters in from nowhere, a baby that starts laughing and jumping as busy business people walk by around him. Moments where we experience the miracle of creation itself, where we abandon ourselves to it.
Some of the happiest freest moments of my life have been when I no longer worried about myself, when I could step outside myself completely. And these days, I am in the exact opposite position, worried about my job, my finances, my future and this weekend, my health. I pray that this week for a more healthy balance, and more moments outside myself.

Gay marriage: yes or no?

1.Okay guys-it's all over the papers, and I think it's time we talked about it.
I'm for it. I think that churches have the right to oppose it, but I don't think that individual churches and denominations should hold sway over state and federal policies. If two consenting adults want to get married, it's not the state's job to protect the sanctity of sacraments, just the freedom of the church to practice those sacraments.
I also strongly reject the idea that gay marriage is a threat to marriage. Any couple that can provide a good example of a monogamous commitment should be an encouragement to the rest of us that marriage CAN work.
Heck, if the churches really want the government to defend marriage, shouldn't we ban divorce? 50% of marriages end in it! It's the #1 marriage killer, I would think, after death!
Okay, enough of me talking...TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!
Love ya all. -Dan

It's good to know what you need

I believe today was my last day with the Unitarians. After trying a couple of services, I’ve found that I need a bit more of Jesus in my church than what they have to offer.
I came to the Unitarians because I questioned my faith, and still do. I question whether Jesus is the son of God, whether there is a heaven or hell, whether my prayers do any good for anyone but me. And I sought them out as a group that saw skepticism as healthy,and inquiry as a twin of faith.
Yet I also realized after just a few Unitarian services, that although I question my beliefs, I still thrive on them. I still need to hear Christ’s words on a regular basis, in a community of the like-minded who are looking to him for guidance. The Unitarians left that part of me cold with intelligent but somewhat more watered-down generalizations about the human spirit and the sacredness of everyday life. The messages were lovely but a bit too general for my needs.
Thankfully, I have found communities over the last months that are both Christian and healthily skeptical. Both Transmission and the NYU student Episcopal group have provided a space where doubt and even dissent is welcome, yet faith in Christ is also multiplied.
However, I don’t regret trying out the Unitarians. As I walked out of the service today, I had a wide smile on my face. I felt revived: realizing I actively DESIRED more Christ was kind of liberating. I think it’s a gift in this life whenever we can put our finger on exactly what it is we yearn for. Thankfully, with Christ, the access is pretty easy, and the supply never runs out.

Learning from hunger

Dear readers,

Today I've been fasting for Good Friday. No food at all, and nothing but water, tea and lemon juice to drink.
I wanted to deepen my experience of the day by replicating some of the suffering of Christ, even though part of me thinks it silly to impose suffering to grow in faith. Part of me equates fasting with self-flagellation, vows of silence, celibacy and other restrictive disciplines we impose on ourselves to get closer to God. I have an instinctive resistance to that brand of religion. Jesus spent his life simply yes, but he enjoyed life amongst the sinners, doing good in the public square, not hiding away in asceticism burying his appetite for life.
Another part of my resistance to fasting is that I've seen it used to get attention. One weekend when I was in college in the late 90s, a student group set up shop outside the student center to protest the U.S. embargo against Iraq, citing the deaths of children.
Their form of protest was to sit out on the steps of the center for three days, fasting. There was singing and giving out information, but their biggest signs declared that it was a "Fast for Iraq." For some reason, I thought it ridiculous that their form of building awareness was to make themselves suffer.
I'd think anybody who didn't give a damn about the issue would just look at them and say, "Ha! Let 'em starve! Those self-righteous bozos!"
Looking back at it, it wasn't the fast itself I was opposed to, but the demonstrative nature of it. Perhaps the advocacy statements made sense, but the fact that they made their fasting so public got to me. Perhaps I have been affected by that old advice, "Do your good works in secret."
Initially today, I wasn't sure if my little fast would have any effect on me. I moved through the day a little grumpy, but clearheaded. Then came the evening and a test: forgetting my fast, my roommate invited me out to dinner with his friend. Should I deny myself the pleasure and stay home, or take it as a sign to go enjoy the company of friends and break bread? WWJD?
I decided to combine my two interests: I went to dinner but denied myself food, and this was when the fast got interesting. My roommate and friends got a prix fixe three-course meal, appetizers, entrees, beers and dessert. I sat there with a cup of green tea and watched.
First, I felt like an outsider, and that's when the fast first began to hurt. I was going through the day just fine in my own private discipline, but discipline becomes less enjoyable in the midst of those enjoying freedom. In the same way, I think it's easier to be poor when you're not right next to wealth: you may not be aware of how bad you've got it and see the little that you've got as enough.
But when you're poor and surrounded by the well-off, the same drive that could help you survive could turn to resentment, and perhaps then violence.
This came to mind, and other things popped up as they moved from appetizers to entrees. I began thinking about how hard it must be for somebody on a strict diet to be in group situations, the discipline to be out with people who can eat whatever they want, the control it must take. I imagine family and friends try to be considerate, but when a group goes to an Italian restaurant, I'm sure a dieter sees stuff going around the table that they ache to eat. No wonder so many fall off.
As they moved towards the end of the meal, I thought about that old weird piece of advice every mom used to give their kids to make them finish dinner, that guilt-laden news flash "There are children starving in Africa." What was the logic of that? I guess if children are starving in Africa, then I should shut up and be grateful I have any food at all, and should eat every bit?
I never got this: if I have extra food and there are children starving in Africa, then shouldn't they be the ones eating it? Why am I overfilling my belly while these kids starve? And furthermore, if you're really concerned about me understanding starvation in Africa, wouldn't it be better to DENY me an occasional meal, rather than guilt-trip me into eating more?
By that logic, it's like filling the belly is a salute to the fact that by the grace of God, I'm not like them. I guess for any family that's escaped poverty, that's a natural thing to enjoy. But it's also rather hedonistic and self-centered. "I'm going to eat up, because I thankfully am not in your shoes." If I heard that and was on the other side of the equation, I'd want to cut you open and enjoy my meal.
As I recall, Jesus rarely complained about being hungry. He got tired and angry, and even thirsty on the Cross. However, he didn't complain a lot about poverty and hunger. Sometimes, I almost think that that lack of complaints, combined with his love for the poor, has made it easier for us to excuse the existence of poverty.
We do charity like Jesus did, but I think fewer of us see starvation, especially when others are feasting, as the same intolerable hell as genocide or the AIDS epidemic.
I wonder if Jesus had talked more about the cruelty of poverty, maybe things would be different. But then again, we've selectively ignored and heeded Jesus' words for centuries.
The fast has clearly done me good, since it's got me thinking, but I don't quite feel like I've hit rock bottom yet. I wonder how far I should go. Should I take myself to the point of physical pain, or stop now that some awareness has come of it? Your opinions would be welcome.