getting out there

One of the concepts that seemed important when I was out on the road was "getting way out there." In order to experience faith in real need, and also demonstrate that for others, I had to get out far away from the security of home. Usually a week's walk got me far enough out. Before then it seemed like a friend could easily come and rescue me. After that I began to feel seriously vulnerable and in need of God's constant protection and care.

I remembered that this morning, because I think I'm starting to feel that way now. We've begun to make actual physical changes to this place, and we've committed our time and limited money we have available to starting this retreat house, and others have committed their time and resources to help us. Choices have been made that can't be unmade without significant loss. Now if it doesn't work out, it will definitely be seen as a failure, our failure, with serious consequences for us. And there are many big parts that I don't see how they're going to work out, and it scares me when I think of them. We're definitely getting out there now. And every step, every day, we get further out.

I have to say, though, that I've had good experience "way out there" with God.

"inviting ivory"! perfect!

We've been working on fixing up the apartment, spackling and sanding walls, and we're going to try to paint the kitchen cupboards too, so those needed a lot of sanding and some wood putty where the edges were damaged. It took a while to settle on colors, since we had to try to match the furniture and carpet we were given. We wanted some bold colors, too, to liven up the place. Heather chose yellow for our bedroom, "Sundance" and "Sunflower," to help us get through the gray winters. And "Red Cent," a rusty earth tone, should look pretty good in the living room. I read somewhere that shades of red are good to stimulate conversation, because it's a warm, energetic color, I guess. "Inviting ivory" is for the kitchen.

It's been a bit hard to envision the good result that will (hopefully) come from the mess we're making. Actual improvements are small and few so far. We've had to focus on one little step at a time, and trust that it will add up to something. But the major rooms should at least get their color this week; that will help a lot.

only persons can love

There has been some discussion about creating a committee for the retreat work here. To provide "oversight and accountability"—which is not something I'm against, though it starts to sound like some kind of board of directors. That image also came to mind when someone suggested that a committee could help clarify our mission. And I'm pretty sure we don't want to establish a board of directors.

Heather and I thought and talked about that during the walk, about not wanting to start down the path of institutionalization. I think setting up a board, with positions and powers and mission statements, is definitely a cornerstone for building an institution. Establishing and defining an organization, rather than letting the persons involved be primary. Persons have unique callings, not easily fit into job descriptions, and their relationships with others cannot be defined by authority structures. To follow their calling and develop their relationships best, they especially need an atmosphere of freedom. Jesus recognized and honored the freedom of persons very highly.

I remember writing in my journal long ago that persons have souls; institutions don't. So only persons can love.

We're going to suggest that a few friends of ours here serve as advisors, giving us their perspectives and also being more closely involved in the retreat work so they can give their informed opinions to the church. And we always said we'll accept the oversight and be accountable to the church. I hope that can help the focus to be more on persons and relationships, our relationships with each other and with God.

"peace! be still!"

I'm leading a Taizé prayer service here tomorrow evening; this is one of the songs we'll be singing. Probably will do it in English, though, at least until people know it well. "Lord God I Trust you."

I think I'll focus on finding peace in the turbulence of our fears and uncertainties. And use this story for the reading:

When evening had come, he said to them, "Let us go across to the other side." And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him.

And a great storm of wind arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care if we perish?"

And he awoke and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace! Be still!" And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, "Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?" (Mk 4.35-40)

"I do not want to succumb"

A couple days ago, Tatiana commented, "I do not want to succumb to believing that to be faithful means that I'll mostly just be happy."

I think that most Christians do associate a happy demeanor with being a good Christian. This probably is derived from Paul's exhortations to "rejoice always," and perhaps also the desire to be attractive and uplifting to others (and cheerfulness is seen as attractive and uplifting). But I don't see Jesus acting cheerful all the time.

As G.K. Chesterton pointed out in my "meditation for the party-goer," Jesus often showed anger and frustration and grief, yet there are very few recorded instances of his rejoicing or overt happiness. He of all people had the deepest source of joy, the most intimate and constant connection with God. But he apparently didn't express that joy often with people by being cheerful, or even (as is popular with many religious figures) blissfully serene.

It seems that in this respect most Christians are actually the opposite of Jesus; they lack (as I wrote yesterday) the continual connection with God that is the true source of joy and yet they make a great effort to be always rejoicing and cheerful. Should it surprise us that this is seen as false, or hypocritical?

the sign

Sunday in church we talked about the story of Simeon and Anna. We've been doing a survey of the Old Testament and now are shifting to the New. There was some discussion of Simeon as a prophetic type, "looking for a sign" from God, and other people of that type some of us had met. I mentioned that Simeon had seen his sign in Jesus: "Lord, now let thy servant depart in peace,
according to thy word; for my eyes have seen thy salvation..." He even described Jesus as a "sign":

Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, "Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against... that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed."(Lk 2.34-35)

And so, I asked, wasn't Jesus' disciples' experience (and also ours) fundamentally different from the prophets, since they weren't looking for periodic signs from God but were living in the presence of the sign, Emmanuel, "God with us"?

There wasn't much response to that question. Perhaps it wasn't understood. I do think Jesus offered us an experience of God that is better than the prophets (see Mt 11.7-11, for example). Our usual experience, though, seems to one of "looking for a sign." Hoping to see some evidence of God's presence in our world, periodic reminders and boosts for our faith, like when the prophets received another word from God. I recognize I have been this way myself at times. We assume it's the most we can hope for.

Yet Jesus promised that he would be with us always. The sign of God, the presence of God, with us always. He even said he wanted to share everything of God, "No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you." (Jn 15.15) If this is not our experience, it is not because God is not there or he is withholding himself from us. More likely, we are withholding ourselves from God, more comfortable to see an occasional glimpse than live the kind of life Jesus lived.

"the gigantic secret"

I thought a bit more on the "meditation for the party-goer," specifically the part about Jesus seeming to hide his joy. I imagine that he wasn't hiding it exactly, at least not in the sense of trying to intentionally hold it back. But I can see his joy being subdued or muted among other people. Because when Jesus encountered others, he also encountered their pain and confusion and distance from God, and his compassion for them—his "suffering with" them—would temper his joy, I imagine. How could he be completely full of the joy of God in the presence of his messed up, hurting friends?

I thought of that when I read this passage from A Prayer for Owen Meany (Owen has a screechy, "wrecked" voice, so everything he says is printed in capitals):

In our Scripture class, Owen said, "IT'S TRUE THAT THE DISCIPLES ARE STUPID—THEY NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT JESUS MEANS, THEY'RE A BUNCH OF BUNGLERS, THEY DON'T BELIEVE IN GOD AS MUCH AS THEY WANT TO BELIEVE, AND THEY EVEN BETRAY JESUS. THE POINT IS, GOD DOESN'T LOVE US BECAUSE WE'RE SMART OR BECAUSE WE'RE GOOD. WE'RE STUPID AND WE'RE BAD AND GOD LOVES US ANYWAY—JESUS ALREADY TOLD THE DUMB-SHIT DISCIPLES WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, 'THE SON OF MAN WILL BE DELIVERED INTO THE HANDS OF MEN, AND THEY WILL KILL HIM...' REMEMBER? THAT WAS IN MARK, RIGHT?"

"Yes, but let's not say 'dumb-shit disciples' in class, Owen," Mr. Merrill said...

Even when they were happy and enthusiastic, the Jesus' followers were usually (at least partly) confused and misguided, as we are too. So I can see Jesus not being able to be completely joyful, except when alone with his Father. He couldn't ignore the always somewhat sad condition of those around him.

Are we able to let our joy be tempered by compassion in the same way?