Stop Talking

In a casual conversation with two friends, the topic of preaching length arose. In their comments they pointed out the correlation they noticed between the length of sermons and the age of the preacher. They, interestingly, pointed out that many of the preachers who give lengthy sermons tended to be the younger ones. Of course, this claim was merely a claim of individual observation, but one comment my friend made particularly seemed to resonate: ‘When you’re older, you just understand that what you have to say isn’t really that important.’

At first glance, one may think that this friend has a hardened heart or is just immature to sit through a sermon of forty-five minutes plus. But that is because, of the two italicized words in the comment, most of us find the stress in the latter: ‘say’. That is, when we find the stress in ‘say’, we are believing that preaching is important, and rightfully so, but the above comment wasn’t stated to mean that preaching isn’t important. The actual stress was on the ‘you’, meaning, older preachers seem to have a better sense of their place in influencing change in people’s lives. They understand that 15~30 more minutes will not necessarily be of positive impact (or sometimes it’ll be of negative influence). Theologically speaking, they have a better sense of God’s sovereignty. It was interesting to notice after pondering upon my friend’s comment how much young leaders (me including) preach in our prayers. There is a level of guidance that is good in group prayer, but sometimes as one leads, they start to preach again, a prayer topic becomes a sermon as if the listeners must pray in a very specific manner, almost countering the sovereignty of intercession we can find in Romans 8:26. Ed Welch, in a CCEF blog (titled “Edit Your Counseling“) about understanding that more words are not necessarily a good thing, corroborates the goodness of brevity with an anecdote:

I submitted a chapter for a book. The editor suggested that I should aim for 8-10,000 words. After I submitted it, the publisher pulled rank and mandated that all chapters be 5,000 words or less.

I labored to cut it back but it was still over the word count. I told the editor I was at bare bones—there was nothing else I could cut. I assumed (hoped?) that he would say something like, “Oh, don’t worry about that silly word count from the publisher. Your chapter is so good they will make an exception,” or something like that.

What he actually said was, “No problem, I will edit it down to 5,000 words for you,” which he did, and the chapter was better than before. As you might guess, this word butcher is a highly skilled editor. Greater editing skill produced a chapter that is more succinct and clear.

But this is not only true in writing; the same principle applies to preaching and counseling.

Welch’s concern in the post is practical for the listener as his main point is “The more words you say, the less people understand – at least as a general rule.” But my concern, though also practical, is for the speaker. Preaching a long sermon is not inherently wrong or bad, but the concern is the heart and mentality of the preacher, where if the length of his/her words becomes a safety net for that person’s ability to change. If that is the case, maybe we place too much weight on the ‘your’ of ‘your words’. Maybe in our minds we think the words are important, when in fact, WE have become important. Again, this is not a post to say that hour long sermons are in it of themselves a negative thing, but it seems healthy to ask, “Do I have to say everything?”

At the same time the other side of the issue is not to stop talking. The Word must be preached, it must be known. But maybe the issue is that we have far detached listening from our talking. We have assumed all the questions, and forget to ask ‘one more question’ as Welch teaches in his class lectures. Harvie Conn, in Evangelism, puts it this way:

Maybe it’s time we stop asking, “Would you like to come to our church?” and begin constructing surveys around the sincere statement, “We’d really like to know why you’re not going anywhere.”

And he quotes Dietrich Bonhoeffer from Life Together,

The first service that one owes to others… consists in listening to them… Many people are looking for an ear that will listen. They do not find it among Christians, because these Christians are talking when they should be listening…. Christians have forgotten that the ministry of listening has been committed to them by Him who is Himself the great listener and whose work they would share. We should listen with the ears of God that we may speak the Word of God.

This is not to say that young preachers must replace speaking with listening altogether, as listening by itself is rarely useful, but rather to put them together. For some this may mean that they listen more and talk less, for others it may even mean that they begin listening. Whichever it may be, behind our behavioral change it may be good to remember my friend’s earlier quote on the wisdom of old age, that it’s quite ok NOT to say everything, all at once, every time.

Loving God vs Loving Right

An acquaintance of mine tweeted this after the recent Justice Conference in Philadelphia, “Don’t be in love with the idea of yourself doing justice; be in love with the just King.” (If you’re curious as to his other insightful tweets, check out his blog: Kyuboem Lee.) In the wake of rising humanitarianism, which also encompasses the wider Christian population as conferences such as the Justice Conference seems to attest, Kyu’s tweet resurfaces some thoughts that are actually related to other aspects of the Christian conservative disposition.

It has come to my attention that I am not very good at loving God, and I think Christians (I should probably say American Christians) in general are not very good at it either. Of course, it would be an whole entire discussion to describe what the meaning of “loving God” is but to simplify one maybe has to take a peak at how one loves others. In Christianese (that is Christian lingo), it is often said that the vertical relationship affects the horizontal, which simply means that if you are correctly loving God, then it should show in your love for others. But it seems most do not understand how often that translation from the vertical to the horizontal does not happen so naturally. Most Christians, I believe, mistake loving what’s right with loving others, and in turn, mistaken loving God altogether. Lately, I have had the privilege of listening to a number of people who claim not to be Christian and it seems one big reflector of this ‘loving right’ tendency is reflected in the way Christians make them feel: dirty, unworthy, second-class. Even when Christians do not intend to do thus, mistakenly thinking you are loving God when you are only loving what’s right will naturally convey that sense. As somewhat of an aside, it is good Christian theology to think that all humans are sinful, dirty, unworthy, but the question of concern here is in reference to whom? Good theology says that it is in reference to God, but often in our practice of ‘loving right’ we make them feel unworthy in reference to us. This becomes very evident in Christian dealings with peccadilloes, not to say that condoning such things is the right thing to do, but raising the condoning or not condoning as the first question illustrates that our primary concern is with strictly ‘doing what’s right.’ This seems to fall in line with a critique stated by one of my professors concerning pastors of large (mega) churches, that they have the luxury to simply state unhelpful mantras like “Jesus plus nothing equals everything” because they don’t have to get into the messy lives of individuals. When throwing principles and mantras from a distance, one tends to miss the details, important details, and in worse cases, it can produce a culture of woodenly following principles as equal to ‘loving God’. This proclivity of ‘loving right’ is also illustrated in the inability of Christians to engage humanly with such complex issues as homosexuality, and in some ways, it becomes evident in almost trivial issues like underage drinking and smoking (i.e. partying). Christians are so concerned with finding what’s right, or to push the envelope, doing what’s holy, that they dehumanize those with whom they engage.

Part of the reason, which I don’t want to get into here, is that Christians a lot of times are not very humble people. The other part why this is so, I suspect, is because Christians (me including) suck at dealing with messiness. We hate it. We think it’ll taint us. We think we are actually clean ourselves. We operated in the Old Testament (Hag 2:11-13) sense that if you touch something unclean (dirty) you will become unclean (dirty). We proudly scream that Jesus gave us his rightness, but in practice, we act as if we’ve earned it by denying the manner in which that rightness was given to us. We forget that the manner in which Jesus engaged uncleanness was to plunge into it. And we forget that we live in the NT era where when the unclean touches the clean, no longer does the clean become tainted, but the unclean becomes clean (Mark 1:40-42). Ironically, the Pharisees were the ones who did not know this, they were NT people who operated in the OT schema. They could not deal with messiness around them. They made people feel dirty, unworthy, second-class. They loved being right, while thinking they were loving God. And while we think it may be so far from us, the ‘they’ starts becoming the ‘we’. We say we are loving God when all we are doing is loving what’s right. Maybe then, it’s time to pause… and acknowledge, “Maybe I don’t love God as much as I thought I did.”

Don’t Go on Short-Term Missions, Go on Vacation Instead

On this trip home, I was disproportionately excited to be on Asiana Airlines from my Seattle to Incheon leg. The flight was fully enjoyable, the polite service, the leg room, lotions in the bathroom, etc and etc, but there was something on that trip that egged my critical psyche the entire way. A short term mission team.

Observing them in Seattle-Tacoma Airport, I naturally assumed they were headed to China or maybe Japan, but came boarding time, and this mission team ended up sitting two rows behind me headed toward South Korea. This really bothered me. My criticisms of short term mission trips have waned over the years, in part, due to my intentional desire to be less critical and in part, due to hypnotically convincing myself that God can do great things with anything, maybe I erroneously used Philippians 1:18 as proof-text to let go of my critical ways. But the criticisms are back, and I believe it’s warranted.

Darren Carlson writes a TGC blog titled, “Why You Should Consider Cancelling Your Short-Term Mission Trips“, concerning the detrimental effects of massive waves of apocopated short-term mission trips. He begins with an eye opening picture of what really happens:

I have seen with my own eyes or know of houses in Latin America that have been painted 20 times by 20 different short-term teams; fake orphanages in Uganda erected to get Westerners to give money; internet centers in India whose primary purpose is to ask Westerners for money; children in African countries purposefully mutilated by their parents so they would solicit sympathy while they beg; a New England-style church built by a Western team in Cameroon that is never used except when the team comes to visit; and slums filled with big-screen TVs and cell phone towers.

I have seen or know of teams of grandmothers who go to African countries and hold baby orphans for a week every year but don’t send a dime to help them otherwise; teams who build houses that never get used; teams that bring the best vacation Bible school material for evangelism when the national church can never bring people back to church unless they have the expensive Western material; teams that lead evangelistic crusades claiming commitments to Christ topping 5,000 every year in the same location with the same people attending.

And here’s a bit of food for thought he provides by hypothetically switching roles, where a mission trip might desire to come to the States:

Imagine a team from France calls your church and says they want to visit. They want to put on VBS (which you have done for years), but the material is in French. They have heard about how the U.S. church has struggled and want to help you fix it. They want to send 20 people, half of them youth. Only two of them speak English. They need a place to stay for free, with cheap food and warm showers if possible. During the trip half of the group’s energy will be spent on resolving tension between team members. Two people will get sick. They’d like you to arrange some sightseeing for them on their free day. Do you want them to come?

Ever since 2006, I told myself I would not go on a mission trip shorter than a month. The reasons have evolved and been refined, but the conclusion has been the same. This is not to say that we should rid the world of short-term mission trips. There is a place for them, although much of the formatting, I believe, is outdated, ineffective, and in need of much revamping. And then there is that argument that missions is about spirituality and not about poverty, efficiency, earthly development. Possibly, but essentially no, but to get into that argument in detail would have to wait for another time. What we can instead quickly ponder upon concerning this argument is why must spirituality always be conjoined with spontaneity (almost to the point of brashness)? Why does everyone forget spirituality has just as much to do with wisdom and patience?

Normally, I would end with “But I am not saying you should not go on your current mission trip” but I won’t. I think a lot of us should not go. Part of my plane ride to Korea, I tried to calculate how much money it cost to send that Seattle mission team to Korea for two weeks. I let out a huge sigh of frustration further thinking about how those resources could have gone to long-term missionaries. This could be part of the revamping. Raising just as much money and giving it all to longer-term missionaries. Or if you really want to go, go on vacation, out of your own pocket, go, experience, possibly even by yourself without a team, and learn. Instead of initially always trying to do, do, and do, maybe we can first learn to kneel and listen.

Heaven is Changing

A friend of mine said, on the morning of Easter Sunday, as he was riding the subway to church, he observed many people in their Sunday best, making eye contact with one another and giving each other the verbal acknowledgement and affirmation of “Mmhmm”. It was a rather endearing account of friendliness in the urban context. But it makes you wonder, sure, among the many of the church-goers on Easter were regulars. But also many of the churches in America gear up for an influx of attendants that one Sunday of the year, and often see it as a very good evangelistic opportunity for the non-regulars. It seems that even to the remotely spiritual, heaven is of some importance when reminded by the calendar. And such is corroborated by the statistic from the Gallup that 85% of Americans still believe in a heaven.

This raises an interesting question: What kind of a heaven do we believe in? The recent cover story in Time Magazine by Jon Meacham titled, “Heaven Can’t Wait” (here’s his blog post for those who can’t see the whole article), tries to illuminate the recent shift in the answer to that question. The traditional view of heaven with pearly gates, golden streets, halos, wings and singing with harps is being challenged by the rethinking of scholars such as NT Wright, and Wright explains:

When 1st century Jews spoke about eternal life, they weren’t thinking of going to heaven in the way we normally imagine it…. Eternal life meant the age to come, the time when God would bring heaven and earth together, the time when God’s kingdom would come and his will would be done on earth as in heaven.

And others in a similar camp, like Christopher Morse, take it a bit further, as Meacham explains:

This point of view is one in which the alleviation of the evident pain and injustice of the world is the ongoing work that Jesus began and the means of bringing into being what the New Testament authors meant when they spoke of heaven. The earth is not a temporary place that will disappear on the last day, and heaven means “God’s space.” And so with all respect to the views of believers like Stanley, the Wright school holds that one should neither need nor want a ticket out of the created order into an ethereal realm. One should instead be hard at work making the world godly and just.

This change of perspective on what heaven is, is more important than it may seem at first glance. The common critique of Christians being ‘too heavenly minded for any earthly good’ stems in part from the view of heaven as an escape from earth and that salvation is merely a ticket to that location. For a generation of rising humanitarians, this ‘new’ view of heaven is foundational for any acts of justice and mercy in which they engage. Without it, there is no reason to care for the poor, the widow, and the orphan.

There is a danger though. If heaven, at the end of time, will be brought to earth, it does mean that being heavenly minded is to be concerned for earthly good as they will be one and the same in the future. But the question remains, and this is the danger, what do our work and acts of justice and godliness amount to? To believe that any contribution we make now quantifiably adds to the final ‘heaven and earth’ is to say that what Jesus did on the cross was somehow not enough, that it was somehow insufficient to redeem. And that is more than an uncomfortable road to start treading on. So then, we come back to the question: How does our acts of justice and godliness matter?

I am unsure I know what the answer is, but I think this rethinking of heaven is a good one. Of course, this rethinking itself needs rethinking, but for those who see the irrelevance of the traditional view to modernized culture, the tepid nature of evangelical force in individualized Christianity, and the warrant it can give to why we should even be humanitarian, this may be worth giving some thought. Because I, for one, would like to believe that there is grass, soccer, and even competition in what we like to call heaven. That, aside from wanting the Giver and not the gift, that the world the Giver creates is one that gives us hope.

A Church Model from the Devil??

So the phrase “It is of the devil!” has almost a similar effect as someone crying out “Injustice!” during an logical argument. It places the opposing side at an unfair disadvantage as these phrases start to attack the arguer and not the argument. So to cry “injustice” or “of the devil” usually means you really don’t have anything better to say. But here’s an exception. Thabiti Anyabwile writes a post titled, “Multi-Site Churches Are from the Devil” and actually explains with nuance his sentiments behind the shock-triggering title. For anyone going to a multi-site church or have gone, especially with one pastor running around all the sites (I don’t think this applies so much to churches with different site pastors), this is a worthy read. Of course, Anyabwile is not the final authority on the issue of church model, but it does not take a genius to see that a pastor who cannot let go of multiple sites is grasping in his hands, not their trust in God but their pride and ego. So although, I still shy away from calling it “of the devil”, I believe we should all do what Anyabwile suggests at the end of his post, that is, “to slow down and think about it”. It may not help us see the ultimate result of such a model, but it may shed light on the next few steps that we take and aid us toward the right direction.

Are you a Materialist or Magician?

One of my all time favorite movies is the brilliant thriller, The Usual Suspects, starring Kevin Spacey as ‘Verbal’ Kint. Not only is the unpredictable ending amazing but it has some awesome lines among which this is one (Here’s the youtube clip of the scene).

Who is Keyser Soze? He is supposed to be Turkish. Some say his father was German. Nobody believed he was real. Nobody ever saw him or knew anybody that ever worked directly for him, but to hear Kobayashi tell it, anybody could have worked for Soze. You never knew. That was his power. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. And like that, poof. He’s gone.

This line by Verbal is not only good for its dramatic effect, but its force, I believe, comes mainly from the truth it carries. The greatest (and most dangerous) trick the Devil ever did play on us, especially on the Western hemisphere, was to convince us that he didn’t exist. Interestingly, this idea isn’t original to the 1995 movie and one can trace it back to at least as far back as C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters (I don’t know of an earlier source though I have not ruled out the possibility of it). John Murray comments in his WSJ column about this classic and the two dangers into which people fall, being a materialist or magician:

In his original preface written from Magdalen College at Oxford on July 5, 1941, Lewis warned of what he called “the two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils.” One error “is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.” Lewis concluded that the devils “are equally pleased by both errors, and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight.”

In light of Rob Bell’s recent publications seemingly promoting the disbelief in the existence of hell, I believe the timeless classics of Lewis is in need of re-visitation. And as we do, Murray unsurfaces a very helpful perspective that is not often mentioned in the discussion. That is, the devil is not an opposite nor an equal to God in any sense:

When asked about “his belief in the Devil,” Lewis addressed the question in a thought-provoking way in his preface to a revised edition of “Screwtape” in 1960: “Now, if by ‘the Devil’ you mean a power opposite to God and, like God, self existent from all eternity, the answer is certainly No.”

As Lewis explained, “There is no uncreated being except God. God has no opposite. . . . The proper question is whether I believe in devils. I do. That is to say, I believe in angels, and I believe that some of these, by the abuse of their free will, have become enemies to God. . . . Satan, the leader or dictator of devils, is the opposite, not of God, but of Michael.”

This is a good reminder for those who have a tendency to become ‘magicians’ or be overly interested in evil spiritual matters. But those who struggle with becoming materialist, which I suspect is most of us (including Bell), I suggest we pick up The Screwtape Letters once again, if we haven’t already done so, and remind ourselves that the visible is not all there is to this world. Then maybe, it will aid us to wake up from the dirty trick the devil has been playing, a trick not just of fun and game but one that has life and death on the line.

Why Suffer?

In a disturbing incident of a South Korean man being found crucified on a cross, mostly likely resulting from a voluntary reconstruction of Calvary, one cannot help but ask the question “Why?” Simon Dein, the editor of the journal “Mental Health, Religion & Culture” was quoted in the CNN news blog: “It’s not unknown for Christians and Shia Muslims to inflict extreme pain for atonement. It is thought that pain is spiritually purifying.” But apart from the intent of the crucified man or the reasoning behind other acts of self-flagellation, such events raise the perennial question of why we have to suffer? Is it really to purify ourselves? I certainly hope not. Anyone who does so, does not fully understand the gospel of Christ, the One who screamed “It is finished!” on the cross two thousand years ago. Certainly, there is a place for suffering for Christians and the Church. Colossians 1:24 seems to say so. But this South Korean man seemed to err in the answer to the following question, “How are we to engage in suffering?”

One thing I know with deep certitude is that self inflicted suffering is unnecessary. In life, suffering will find us. But I think the bigger issue, or at least the proper way to think about how to engage in suffering is to always ask the purpose of the particular situation. I have previously lived in a house with such poor insulation that in the winters, the memory foam on my bed would ‘freeze’ over and would not sink to the weight and heat of my body, no matter how long I lay there. I remained under that roof in part because the rent was unbeatable but deep in my subconscious, I had a sense that I had to, because I was a ‘humble student of religion.’ Like I said, self inflicted suffering is unnecessary (might I add stupid). Along with its purpose, the ‘how’ and ‘when’ of suffering become clearer when seen in the backdrop of justice. Not justice like most Americans are thinking about (i.e. the killing of bin Laden, retributive justice), but justice in the fuller sense. The OT scholar, Bruce Waltke, defines tzedakah, or righteous, as a person exemplifying the fuller sense of justice, and he defines in Book of Proverbs as follows:

The righteous are willing to disadvantage themselves to advantage the community; the wicked are willing to disadvantage the community to advantage themselves.

With such a backdrop, suffering becomes something different, and it becomes easier to discern when and how suffering should be engaged. Does your suffering, or disadvantage, advantage others? Most of us Americans never ask that. Heck, we never think that. We are too busy seeking the advantage of ourselves, to collect, to gain, to win. Americans, in recent days, have touted and demanded justice as if we actually knew what it meant, but so often the mirror of our lives reflect the face of the wicked and not the righteous. We love advantaging ourselves at all costs.

Is Christianity True??

Last month, Joel Osteen and his wife was interviewed by Piers Morgan on CNN and during the interview, probably for the first time in his pastoral career, he stated his belief that homosexuality is a sin (Here is the interview for those interested). It was intriguing when a friend shared Albert Mohler’s blog on the said interview, but not because of the issue of homosexuality (I feel I have given much thought on the subject and have so far reached a satisfactory working conclusion) but more so because of the evolution of Joel Osteen. Mohler makes a brief comparison in his blog of the Osteen in last month’s interview and the Osteen in an interview from 2006. It was interesting to see, in no condescending manner, the theological growth in Osteen, especially after having written an academic paper critiquing Osteen’s book and previous interviews. Then it got me thinking, I would never have critiqued Osteen if he was an ordinary Christian, not in place of leadership. I would have been more understanding that no Christian knows everything or gains the correct theology upon conversion. All Christians evolve, in a sense, and it seems only fair that any criticism must be tethered to this fact that people learn and grow throughout life.

It seems that because Christians forget this truth of growth and change in a person’s belief and life, that doubt has become such a vice. Jason Boyett shares in his article titled “The doubting Christian” in The Washington Post about how he had to learn that the world was wrong to claim that all Christians must be full of certainty and devoid of doubt. He shares:

I’ve spent three decades learning I was wrong. Doubt is essential to faith. Faith, by definition, requires uncertainty. Answering “I don’t know” to most religious questions isn’t just honest, but humble. These days, if I have faith, it’s in my willingness to follow the teachings of Christ despite my hesitations. Faith, for me, is action.

Deep in this valley of doubt, I still call myself a Christian and try to serve others, love my enemies, and otherwise live like a follower of Jesus…even on the days agnosticism looks inviting. Even on the days I labor to reconcile evolution with the Bible. Even on the days I’m not certain God exists.

I’m a big, fat doubter, and I’m learning to be okay with that.

Of course, there is a categorically different certainty that one gains with faith, certainty that does not base itself on the amount of knowledge and certainty that can coexist with occasional doubt. It is not just ok but even right for Christians to say “I do not know” on issues that are beyond comprehension, and to place a taboo on doubt is to lose the welcoming power of Christianity. There are, like my high school math teacher used to say, “no dumb questions” (though there are sinfully motivated questions, but that, for another time).

Osteen should be held responsible for his lack of knowledge/theology by virtue of his position, but us critical ones have something to learn from him too. To never see another as merely a still picture, that everyone has a past and a future, that our criticisms, hopeful positive criticism, should play out in this larger time frame.

Why We Love Braveheart So Much…

If there was a vote to selecting an all time “MAN” movie, I suspect Braveheart, Mel Gibson’s portrayal of the story of William Wallace, would rank as an uncontested number one. Guys from my generation would even joke that if one have not seen the movie, this person has not gone through the rite of passage into adult manhood, quite simply, ‘you ain’t a man.’ But why do men love this classic tale of bravery, freedom, love, and battle so much? What about this film sends our emission of testosterone peaking at levels unimaginable? What about the climactic scene of Wallace crying, “FREEEEDOM!” while under torturous disembowelment makes our fist clench with, not fear, but pride? I believe the answer to these questions is, in some sense, so simple to identify and yet utterly difficult to remedy.  But we find a bit of the answer in the meaning of ‘bravery.’

And we must be clear, bravery is not the lack or elimination of fear. I’m sure Wallace was afraid, as Rousseau says, “Whoever pretends to face death without a fear is a liar.” But the reason why we attribute so much “man-ness” in Wallace, the reason why we clench our fists and desire to be like him, the reason why we watch this movie over and over again is because he illustrated great integrity in the face of certain pain, suffering and death, which I believe is true bravery. The attribution of bravery as a male characteristic may be more of a social construct than we realize, but I do know this, men and women alike, we are draw to people who illustrate ultimate integrity even in the face of great opposition.

I heard a talk last night from a man named Michael Oh, about living the American Dream. Chasing money, chasing security, and chasing comfort. We so often desire such a dream to become a reality and chase and chase, but all the while, we crave some sort of vicarious adventure, an excitement, and so we watch Braveheart again, and again, and again…. It is no wonder books like Wild at Heart get published. I actually do not recommend the book because of its erroneous generalizations, but the spirit of the book is indicative of the underlying American sentiment to escape this dream of self-imposed sedation. We chase ourselves into utter boredom and drudgery, and secretly crave adventure and a life of bravery.

The irony is, this life of adventure, of excitement and of bravery is not only found in the films but is offered to us as a possibility. It was mentioned that bravery is the show of great integrity in the face of certain pain, suffering and death, and the epitome of such character was not William Wallace but is found in a man who preceded him 1300 years. And it is in continuing the cause of this person that leads to a life of adventure, excitement, suffering and love. It is in knowing our purpose as a watch knows to tell time instead of temperature that gives us integrity. It is not in wanting to be brave that will make us so but in living for a cause outside our little selves that will make us brave in the process. To the point we can cry “Freedom” in the face of pain, to the point we can learn to dance in the sight of death. As Bonhoeffer says, “Death is the supreme festival on the road to freedom.”

Proximity…

What is it that humans desire? What is our ultimate longing? What do beings limited by space and time (which is everyone but the uncreated) live for? People act, feel, think and live for various objects of affection in their lives. Those two things may change: action and object of action. But there is one word or concept that ties those two things and answers these questions: proximity.

Humans are directional creatures, without direction, there is no goal and without goals, hope disappears. And when one is directed towards an object, idea, or person, it is proximity to it that is desired. We are creatures of desire. Siddhartha and the ascetic Christians had it wrong. Desire is not necessarily a bad thing.

The essence of desire is gain and the essence of gain is to be near. The object of gain may vary and for how long the proximity will last will also be different, but that directional desire to draw near is a constant of life. Between people, degrees, money, prestige, fame, affection, we live to get close to the object of our desire.

But in the midst our thirst filled lives, this want and longing is not at all possible if we do not have hope. Hope is what allows us to dream, to plan, to run towards achieving a goal. Hopelessness drives us towards the opposite: apathy, depression, directionless wandering, and sometimes even the end of life. So hope, then, gives us proximity to whatever is the object of our desire. What happens then, in cases where particular objects or persons are unattainable? In circumstance where hope is not viable? Where it is hopeless to desire the proximity to these things? Well, the answer varies depending on how far one’s hope looks forward. Hope is a look towards the future. How far does your hope see? Is it only towards things that return to the dust at the end of time, or does it go beyond something that can last?