father and child

With the baby coming in about three months now, I've found myself a little nervous about questions of identity. Needing to clarify who I am, what's important to me, what my life's about.

Part of it, I'm sure, is that having a child will be a big change in our life, and I'm sure I'll be letting go of some things I've gotten used to. I just want to make sure I don't inadvertently let go of what's most important to me. Another part of it, I think, is that becoming a "father" seems like a big identity change, or it feels like it's supposed to be. With that, there's the thought of how the kid will see me, and also what example and values do I hope to offer to my son. Those all seem like identity questions.

Struggling with these questions a few days has brought me back again and again to thoughts about being the anawim. The poor, weak ones who trust God to be their help. That's been central to my identity as a follower of Jesus. I see that as the identity Jesus himself took. There seems to be a tension, though, between that identity and traditional image (in any culture) of what a "father" is. A father provides and protects. A father is strong. A father is who the poor, weak ones look to for help. But that's not a role reversal that I want to undergo. Jesus' words come to mind: "Call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven... and you are all brothers and sisters." (Mt 23.8-9)

But while there does seem to be a tension between the usual image of fatherhood and the identity of the anawim, I don't see a big conflict in the actual care of and relationship with a child. I foresee many occasions in parenting that will lead me to a place of need and helplessness, where I'll be crying out to God. And a child is the very image Jesus gave for those who would enter his kingdom. The image of the meek and lowly anawim. Those I have wanted to both care for and be like.

All this points to being a father who is not a hero, or a god, for my child. But discovering together what it is to become children who utterly trust their loving Father.

an inevitable loss?

As I've gotten older, I've become more aware of the "fourth dimension." Time. How things and people change with the passage of years. I'm trying to see people less statically, and more as what they simply are now, which is not exactly what they have been or what they will be.

One of the more difficult effects of time to accept, for me, is the common process by which younger people rise to take over positions of power from their predecessors. Those challenging authority become the authorities. And then they almost always end up nearly identical in their use and misuse of that power as those before them.

People who are very critical of power when others have it can become surprisingly understanding when it's put in their hands. When they see the chance to use that power for "good." Then it turns out the ends may justify the means after all.

That's my problem. When those who challenged authority with me become the authorities, then that power is seen by them as a good thing, useful now that it's in the right hands. That's where it feels like I lose them. Because I don't want to make use of their "useful" new influence, and I don't have any interest in working for the survival of the organization, which is now a central part of their job description. So I see little opportunity for collaboration, and experience a loss of the friendship feeling of working towards a common goal.

And what's most upsetting is that it seems so universal, it happens over and over and over, with each change of "leadership." So is this loss inevitable?

Yes, I suppose it is. People who will reject power when it's offered to them are quite rare. It's a depressing thought. Until you remember that others are changing in time also. New people are stepping into the places that the others have stepped out of. New collaborators are rising up to challenge the institutional authority that in its nature remains the same, though different hands wield it (or are wielded by it). As some wine skins harden into the organization, the new wine is poured into fresh skins. God's Spirit of freedom "blows where it will." So it's important to keep looking for and embracing that Spirit, where it's appearing next. That's where I'll find co-workers and the friendship of a common goal. I need to trust God to provide them, like I was telling my friend last week.

And I also need to remember that time continues to change people. The experience of being in positions of power is one of the best arguments against it. So I'll also look for the Spirit's return, and the chance to be co-workers again.

inspiring Christian community?

From a letter to a friend:

...I think I understand about the desire for an inspiring Christian community. Although, as you noticed (I think), often communities that seem great from one vantage point turn out to have a darker side when seen from within, or when we get a little older and more experienced. I'm actually glad, in a way, that the community I'm in now is weak and not very unified. Because it makes them a lot more flexible and willing to allow differences. Often "unity" and strong community spirit lead easily to oppressive practices and the expulsion, in one way or another, of those who don't fit in (including those who don't fit in for good reasons).

The only community that is truly unified and not oppressive is the one body of Christ. But I don't see us getting a full or homogeneous experience of that here, in the sense that the community we're in will always be a mixed one (even the same person is sometimes with Christ and sometimes against). Like in the wheat and tares parable. And the attempts to try to institutionally mimic the true body always show themselves false eventually, often catastrophically so. That's been my experience anyway.

But I believe we can experience the body of Christ here and now, and so satisfy our current needs for fellowship and inspiration. It just won't be in a massive, homogeneous group. And it won't be the same for everyone. It will be here and there, "where two or three are gathered," God showing us his people when we need them, letting us know the body is real and present. Just mixed in, and so not easily identifiable. The more we know what to look for, the better we can recognize it, I think. This seems better to me, too, because there isn't the temptation to try to leverage the power of a large group of people. And it's also a community without centralized human leadership, so it's easier to see the common spirit and cooperation as coming from God's spirit directing all the parts of the body. That's inspiring to me.

My friend Daryl just started a pilgrimage up the California coast. Praying for him.

all about relationships?

Recently I was watching a video presentation done by another Christian community, and noticed the emphasis on relationships. They said that Jesus' work was about reconciliation, restoring broken relationships, so that should be our focus too. I suppose that makes sense. They also mentioned a theme common in intentional communities, that our communities should be visible evidence of the kingdom of God, the community of God on earth. An implication of that is that our relationships in community are then seen as evidence of our faithfulness. That might be reassuring if relationships happen to be doing well, but otherwise, as is often the case...

I also recently spent some time with a friend going through a divorce. He didn't want to divorce, but that's not a decision he can make by himself. His situation really highlighted for me the nature of "relationship." It's not just something we can choose or do. It depends also on the choices and actions of the other people involved. And, actually, it's dependent on many other factors as well, like personality, gender, age, culture, "chemistry," and more. All of these play in to the quality of relationship that we can have with another person. From what I can see, a relationship is not something that we can create. I know we can work to improve our relationships in certain ways, but so many other crucial factors play into it, so that good relationships now seem to me more like a gift of God than something we accomplish.

In the truest sense of "reconciliation," too, it seems to me that the restoration of right relationship, real connection, with others and with God, is something we can only receive as God's gift.

And since a relationship is not something that any of us can make or choose (because it doesn't just depend on us), then this isn't the best evidence of faithfulness. As far as I can tell, Jesus didn't call us to "have good relationships." Jesus called us to love one another. That's an important distinction. No matter what the other person chooses, we can always choose to love them. And if we are not granted the makings of a deep, intimate relationship with someone, we can still love them in the ways that are granted to us. Even if the relationship we've had with another person seems to be falling apart, we can always love them. And that's all Jesus asks us to do.

Love one another, believing that, in love, we discover the deepest relationship with all others who love.

skinned

This weekend I started working on converting an older Pack-N-Play to a bassinet (temporarily). Which reminds me I wanted to take a picture of one of Heather's projects this past winter, tanning deer hides. She got pretty good at it. Was even able to make some gloves, and baby moccasins for a friend.

This is the new cover she made for my old bible (the one I've carried with me on all my walks).

"in weakness"

My friend Jason reminded me of a series of journal entries from years ago, and I've been rereading them. This part seemed especially important for me to remember today:


Jesus’ laying down his life was the perfect act of love. Yet it was not approved or appreciated by either his friends or his enemies. How could love be so misunderstood?

Those who condemned Jesus didn’t appreciate what he was offering, because he didn’t support their management of society. He strongly challenged it. So they saw his death, not as an act of love, but as what he deserved as a subversive trouble-maker. They saw him as a criminal, executed with two other criminals. But Jesus’ followers also didn’t understand his “laying down his life” as an act of love. They could understand why he would preach and heal and feed people, and appreciated his challenging the problems in their society. But they couldn’t see why he would go to Jerusalem and accept execution without resisting, and they tried to prevent it. They could only see his death as a tragic failure. Neither friends or enemies could see the value in Jesus’ perfect act of love.

This illustrates well the difference between God’s purposes and ours. We are intent on imposing our own will, either to keep things as they are or to change things. Some try to preserve and protect what is important to them, such as possessions, traditions, social structure, etc. But at the same time, there are others who do not like how things are. So they try to change the property distribution or the social traditions and structures. What they all have in common is the need for power to impose their will. Those who are in power seek to maintain it, and those who are not in power seek to gain more of it—more wealth and more political influence.

This pursuit of power makes sense if our purpose is to impose our own will, to shape the world as we think it ought to be. But if our true good is not the exercise of our own will, but the surrender of our own will—faith—then the pursuit of power is not helpful. Because it is not strength that helps us trust God, but weakness.

And this is exactly what I see in Jesus’ way of life. Not the pursuit of power, but intentionally becoming and staying weak. A continual “laying down his life.” Instead of seeking human power like everyone else, Jesus embraces economic and political weakness and preaches it to others. This is seen as subversive by those in power, and as a failure by those who seek power. Yet it is exactly right for helping people towards God through faith. And revealing God's powerful love.

As Jesus said to Paul: “My power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Cor 12.9)

"hear my cry"

This morning I thought I should memorize my old favorite, "Precious Lord, take my hand," to use as a lullaby:

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I'm tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm,
Through the night,
Lead me on to the light

Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear,
Precious Lord linger near
When my hope is almost gone
Hear my cry,
Hear my call,
Hold my hand lest I fall

Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears
And the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet,
Hold my hand

Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home

And maybe I could learn to sing it like B.B. King...