Judas

I've heard many people talk about Judas in different ways.  His name is synonymous with betrayal, even outside of Christian circles. Teachings on him range across the spectrum. But most tend toward decidedly negative.

Here's the thing that doesn't make sense to me though.  God chose him.  It couldn't be otherwise, and Jesus actually says that.  He also says that he was doomed for destruction.  He says it would be better for him not to have been born.  Really!  This is Jesus talking.  The guy who picked up the adulterer and turned away the people who would kill her for her faults.  The friend of drunkards and traitors.  Now he's saying this guy is less than dust?  Doomed by God to the worst fate of any human ever?


OK.  So some people reason around that by saying it was Judas' free will.  He could have chosen otherwise.  So what we're seeing in Jesus' statements is his foreknowledge.  But Judas could have chosen another path, and didn't.  So he's up the creek on his own account.

But then, what about forgiveness.  Just like the adulterer.  Am I to believe that one particular act could so define my eternal existence that I could be the most pitied soul in the universe?  What kind of pressure is that?  Good God, there's no hope for me, then!  Sure, I've never had the opportunity to turn God Incarnate over to a tortuous death...but I would have!  I've mocked. I've turned away.  I've outright refused him as much to his face as I can get in this world.  Yet I know in my deep places the feeling of peace and forgiveness I receive from God.  Why doesn't Judas get the same from the unchanging God?

No, I would argue that he does.  I don't know Judas.  I could speculate on his personality and motives.  Many have.  But that's all pure fiction.  We don't know.  He could have been a misguided zealot, an addict who couldn't control himself, or Satan's own henchman.  None of which would entirely be his own fault, and thereby giving God some responsibility for his creation with whatever neuro-chemical damage he may have had.  I don't know.  But the only way I can make sense of it is to remember that God is love.  Jesus exemplifies forgiveness.  Whatever the reason, Judas played a pivotal role in history and one that none of us in our right minds would want.  (Sure if you don't believe Jesus was who he claimed to be, you might think differently, but we're not redefining the story here.  We're taking it as it is presented.  So if you're one of those people, pretend you aren't for a second and stay with my thinking long enough to get my point.)  So I don't think Jesus is condemning him.  I think he's pitying him.

Nothing fits these facts better than the model of a father, which conveniently, pervades the Bible.  No good father wants his children to experience pain, to be sick, etc.  But some kids are not well.  Some make terrible choices that impact themselves and others.  Some are given hard fates that must be dealt with.  But through it all, a father wants to protect and heal his children.  Even through grievous self-chosen wrong.  What father wouldn't put his kid through rehab to get him clean?  Even as he screams and cries for more of the poison.  Or worse, who wouldn't bash his kid over the head if he was caught in the act of a rape?  You'd still love and pity that kid, want to get them help, but that hurt needs to happen.  If you think you'd just disown them, that's still proves my point.  Sometimes the pain is so great you have to turn away and leave the kid to their own mess for a while.

So it's clear to me that Judas is not to be envied.  But he stands to me as the epitomy of what our faith is about.  And I would not be in the least surprised to find he has a very special and protected place in deep in the bosom of God where he can heal and be free of unwarranted pain.  If this is not so, then like Paul, I say we Christians are to be pitied above all men.

God, help me.

Christians talk of love.  We're told to overlook, forgive, bear with, no one is perfect, don't judge.  And yet, in so many cases, this is entirely the duty of the listener and not at all reflected by the speaker or his organization.

It starts to sound hollow after awhile.  So I'm supposed to be eternally forgiving offences against me, some of which are grossly wrong...morally, ethically, personally wrong...and yet the person/people preaching this are the very offenders who then refuse to show it to me, to bear with me, to overlook, forgive, withhold judgement of my faults.

Now the moralist in me is screaming that two wrongs don't make a right and that one must do right regardless of how one is treated.  OK.  I know this.  But it doesn't change the bitterness and anger that rise up at it again and again.  And it isn't everyone.  I know many people who do live out their faith and have shown me great love, even when I don't deserve it.  So again, I blame the institution for creating the paradigm in which a man can stand over anonymous heads and orate without having to answer to the eyes and mouths of those he speaks to.  Where he doesn't have to feel the full and immediate effect of his words.  There has to be a better way.

I feel like I know that way too.  I have glimpsed it, smelled it, but can't quite apprehend it.  I'm not planning anything.  I'm over trying to work my own will in these cases.  I just don't have the energy any more.  But I want to understand, to walk in it, to help it grow where it sprouts.

Am I missing something?  I find myself cringing from certain aspects of the faith.  Embarrassed by them.  I don't want to be caught listening to Christian radio.  I don't even like the music.  I just need some uplifting, faithful, stilling presence and commercial radio (at least the genres I can tolerate) is all about degradation and glory in low things.  I hate to pray over meals in public, though I do it at home with a will and a desire to instill it in my son.

Am I embarrassed by the faith?  No.  I'm not.  I'll easily tell someone I'm Christian, that I go to church, that I believe in universal Truth and live morally, etc.  I'll discuss my faith at length and detail in certain contexts, not just amongst other Christians.  So I am not embarrassed by the faith.  So what is it?

If it was just hokey contrivances, I would not do them myself.  So I see value in them.  This means the issue must be deeper.  Perhaps a fear of seeming naive or backward.  Perhaps of being misunderstood.  I can't tell what it is.  My Evangelical background steps forward at this point and begins condemning me that those who are ashamed of Christ, he will be ashamed of.  Words from his own mouth!  And my heart quails.  But yet I find the same reactions persisting.

I am fickle and inconsistent.  And then I am reminded quietly of Peter who denied Christ three times after just proclaiming his allegiance and even using a blade against an armed troop of men to defend Jesus.  I am reminded of Paul who could not do the good he wanted to do, though he knew what it was.

And so this Sunday, when I was sitting in church, at odds with the place and myself, the pastor, whom I don't even know if I like and certainly don't yet trust, calls us to take Communion in a way that does not put me off.  Not single serving plastic wrapped.  Not greatly orated.  Simply saying that we will serve ourselves because, "you need no one coming between you and your God."  And so I go forward, looking into my own heart, wondering what I will say to Him in the moment, though I feel something must be said.  At the same time, I dred that my heart may burst out my eyes in front of everyone, as too often happens when I encounter God.  I take the wafer, dip it in the cup, and at that second, my heart cries out, "God, help me."

I don't even know where it came from...well I do really.  But I was not planning it, I promise you.  I felt my eyes well, clenched my teeth to stop it, and rushed back to my seat.  Then it came to me that this simple line is the essence of my faith, of all faith.  I don't know.  I can't do.  God, help me.

And on this rock, I can stand.  Nothing more, nothing less.  God, help me.  God, help me.

Horse

"But a false sense of power, a sense which had no root and was merely vibrated into me from the strength of the horse, had, alas, rendered me too stupid to listen to anything he said."

The quote above is from Lilith, by George MacDonald.  In this scene, Mr. Vane has been defeated and tricked by Lilith, and Mr. Raven is taking him to his house from which he fled in the first place.  Mr. Raven summons his horse, which is dark and spectral yet powerful beyond knowing to ease the journey of the weary Vane to his house where he must sleep.  Vane and the horse instantly bond and once on his back, Mr. Vane decides to leave Mr. Raven against his advice.  Raven cautions it will be to ruin again.  And then this quote.

The book in general is already one of my favorites ever and I haven't even finished it yet.  It has been speaking to me in so many ways.  But this line struck me today.

In this blog, I have recorded mere months ago the sense of triumph and power that I had been feeling.  While I had known it was from God, and not of myself, I, like Vane, couldn't help feeling as if it was mine.  When in fact it was only borrowed...no, not even that much possession.   The power was no more mine than is the strength and stamina of a powerful horse on which a man happens to sit.

Even then, in my deep heart I knew it would not last.  But how my vanity has cost me.  What damage I may have wrought in myself, my family, and those I love.  Feeling emboldened like never before I took actions and harboured feelings of authority that were not mine.

To the casual reader, this will seem different than it is.  I don't mean that I did any overtly egregious thing.  In fact, like Mr. Vane, my intentions were all honorable and above board.  I would fix what was wrong where my influence fell and would use this power to do so.  I didn't even "fall from grace" in the sense that we use it for leaders who make a public mistake.  No, it is far subtler.  Far more difficult to see, and therefore all the more damaging.  Like the loose screw in the engine that is so easily overlooked and yet once failed, will bring down the entire machine.

And yet in this realization, I am not even crushed.  Repentant, yes, falling on the grace which saved me, and intent to be better and to learn, but resting in the knowledge that it is ok.  My failing has not one bit thwarted the will and plans of my God.  He will right all wrongs and preserve His children from undue harm.

Perhaps I am also McDonald's stupid philanthropist who would use the grace given me to spare those within my influence from the very thing most needful: that which would be the vehicle of their healing.

All traces of my vanity must die.

Own the Pain

A friend and mentor used to say, "own the pain".  It's a phrase that struck home with me and has recently come to have an even deeper meaning.  I've expressed the idea to people before but most don't seem to get it.  Just a few minutes ago an explanation came to me that seems so much clearer.

It refers to a situation where we have been wronged or hurt.  We can react in many different ways, but most of us have a sense of justice that makes forgiveness and healing hard to do.  Even those of us who have been so beaten down as to turn inward when wounded will not be able to forgive, but will close down and bottle up.

But owning the pain is about deciding to bear the pain inflicted on you on behalf of the person who inflicted it.  It is an act of love.  It is a participation in the suffering Jesus endured for us.  Truly it is to do for another what Jesus did for us.  It is to be Jesus to the person who hurt you.

It is to stand before God and the world and say, these are MY wounds and MY pain.  To take them, as unjust as they may be, and let love overcome the hurt and damage.  It is to willingly accept the suffering without a word to the one who hurt you.  They don't need to be sorry.  They don't even need to acknowledge you are hurt.  It is to cry and ache and pray through it for them.  It is to bear on your heart and body the marks of Jesus.

It is to be Ashitaka taking San's dagger to your chest and enfolding her in your arms even as the blood runs down.  

It is to vanquish hate.

It is to stand before the Judgement Seat and say that you find no fault in that person.  To answer not that you forgive, but that there is nothing to forgive.  It is to participate in a real way in someone's salvation.

Rough

This has been a pretty rough weekend.  It happens.  Not that anything particularly bad has happened.  In fact, some very good things have actually occurred and it may get better still before it's over.  Truthfully, I wouldn't be surprised if the bad has been simply because the good was on its way and certain goods illicit spiritual resistance.  Perhaps in the amazing God way, the resistance furthers the good in spite of its intent to do the opposite.

Still it has been rough of a kind I haven't had in a long time.  It started building a while back with tensions in a part of my family.  That didn't go well at all and the best that could come of it was an open acknowledgement of the problem on my part and a refusal to sit under it any more.  This nonetheless hurt to do and revealed to me something about the relationship which I have long known to be the case.  I don't blame anyone here...really.  I don't think anyone meant for these things to happen, but there has been a long history of unspoken disappointments on both sides.  The long and short is that it awakened deep fears and pains in me.  Deeper than I knew.

Add to that a recent occurrence with another part of my family which piled on to already great tensions and hurt.  I was not involved directly and the conflict is between others, but I see the wounds and the aftermath.

Then add in some difficulties arranging certain upcoming events, sickness in some of the family, minor injuries in others, and top it all off with a supposedly all natural, safe, vitamin energy drink which might as well have been crack in a system like mine that can't tolerate anything beyond primitive whole foods, and you have the perfect makings of a bad head.  It doesn't take much for my demons to see an opportunity like this and they are all about exploiting it to full advantage.  This leaves me a tremoring wreck of doubts, fears, anger, confusion, and sadness. 

Of course most of the time, I can put on a brave face and go about my day, and for years I've managed pretty well.  But this weekend I kept losing it at random moments.  Fortunately I was alone each time.  But perhaps this is not fortunate because then no one sees the state I'm in, which only serves as fuel on the fire when they cast a weird glance and simply go about their business oblivious to the tortured captive crying out from behind my eyes.  This is of course fully exploited by my tormentors who keep whispering accusations and lies to me.

In my stronger moments, when chemicals aren't altering my awareness and mood, I can brush past these gaseous scavengers and don't give it a second thought.  But times like these, I am reminded of my sins and flaws and weakness.

Even still, I am more aware of God with me and in others than I have been in the past.  My tribe is still expanding, my influence and reach is growing.  In fact I happily confirmed one more in my family this weekend.  Even in my throes, God is able to work through me, confirming yet again that what good is in me is not of myself. 

And about midway through writing this, I was able to experience the peace and quiet joy of confession.  I have long heard from my Catholic friends about this, but have never really had the opportunity to experience it.  Of course, I didn't talk to a priest in that sense, but appealed to the natural priesthood of a trusted sister who was able to listen, and demonstrate absolution in her acceptance of what I am writing here, only to a level of detail which I will not write here.

Thank God for all he is.

Recovery

I have a suspicion that sin takes a while to purge. Or rather that it takes a while for us to heal from the effects of certain sins.

Of course many people don't even recognize sin. They don't understand the word. I don't want to go into a big treatise on the definition and philosophy of the concept, so suffice to say that it is wrongness. Acts of wrongness and just wrongness in general. If that doesn't work for you, then I refer you to the tomes on the subject. I will assume going forward that you know what it is and accept that it exists.

So when I commit certain sins to which I am prone, I have noticed lingering effects. Even though I believe that the price for those sins has been paid and that I am forgiven, even though I have repented to the best of my ability...which is really nil.

...ok I have to sidebar here a little...I don't believe that we have anything to do with the forgiveness of our sins. I know that, "if we confess our sins he ...will forgive us and cleanse us..." But I don't think this establishes a sort of spiritual transaction in which God's graces are contingent upon our behavior like many people believe. This is simply a new face on the Jewish law and the substance of most popular religion world wide. It's Karma in a broad sense. If this were true how could anyone ever come to God? We are separated before we know otherwise. If he didn't reach to us first, there would be no connection. Plus he has forgiven us, "while we were yet sinners" and there is "therefore no condemnation." The references go on and on. Suffice to say, we are forgiven period. Everyone is. It's our own rebelliousness that forces the charges to be held to our own account. The door to hell is locked form the inside. End sidebar.

Even though I know the forgiveness, and am learning not to interpret my own self-condemnation as God's wrath, beyond that, there are certain discreet factors which noticeably improve in the area surrounding the sins (and no I'm not going to say what they are) the further away from it I get. The longer I go without falling to it again, I notice those affected areas improving.

I suspect it might have something to do with the residuals of the sin itself. Since sin is a negation of what should be, it may have a sort of cancerous effect on the spirit. It's a subtle thing, as with most truths...but there may be something to this.

New

All things new. I've heard this countless times, but today it was brought to my mind in a new light. I have often understood the regeneration thing in terms of a one-time incident. That's actually the sense of the words in 2 Corinthians 5:17. I just checked. So I'm not saying that's wrong. Just that the verse, and the one in Revelation 21:5, was spoken to me today with a new meaning. And when the Lord of Spirits speaks it, I've learned to listen as it is intended in the moment.

I was thinking about letting go of the masks we wear and about living as if the past was dead, when I realized that I often think of that regeneration as a point that happened once and everything after that point is now held to my account. So while I know we are forgiven past and future and all that, the fact is, I feel responsible for my failures after that point of regeneration. This is a heavy burden for someone who has been in the Blood for years...and by some theologies years even before that. That's a lot of time to screw things up. A lot of time to be faced with one's own inadequacy...all the more clearly visible because of the new clarity of mind that comes with the Spirit. But in the split second that these thoughts crossed my mind He spoke to me that all things are made new repeatedly. That same joy and release one feels at first understanding that one is set free from the guilt of their offenses is mine each and every moment.

It's as if I am walking forward and shedding weight and armor with every step and with every step there is more and more to keep shedding for miles and miles and years and years, a trail of shed material falling away and ever more beneath it, all the while by slightest degrees the glory of the new creation becoming more and more manifest through it.

Words

Words are powerful things. They can destory and create. Wound and heal. It is no wonder magic is often associated with words. But the words themselves are just tools. The true power comes from the one wielding the words.

They say sticks and stones...but this isn't exaclty true. In fact, it really disproves itself in that the very rhyme is a sort of incantation designed to immunize us against verbal attack.

I wield words better than average. Many people have said so. I'm not sure if it is true, but I know that I have an ability to see into people and can find just the right words to cut to the heart. I have used this power of words wrongly many times. I try to keep it in check and only use it to graze the skin when someone begins to push far beyond reasonable limits in jest or in bravado.

I would much rather use it for good. To build up. I would rather practice correct speech, saying nothing except what is absolutely necessary. But this is difficult in our pop-off chattery world. I speak much folly.

Recently, I commented something that I thought valuable in a forum where others could hear. I was responding to something a friend had said. But later that person came to me angry and using surprisingly hurtful words about my inability to perceive intent and discern the appropriate time to say things. Of course, in the context, I could tell that my friend was upset that I had, in his mind, openly ruined his point, which was to encourage another without pointing that person out (thus he had not addressed his comment to them), though that was not my intent. I wanted to respond. I wanted to defend my statement as true and valid and point out the flaws in his attempt in that context...It was far too open to misdirection...and afterall, I had a right to say what I pleased, whether he liked it or not. And as I began heating up in my mind, the invective began to flow. I found myself driving the vebal knife deeper into the gaping chinks in his self image. If I were only to open my mouth I could wound him with valid and personal observations such that the scar would take years to heal. He did not realize who he was dealing with! And I had checked my responses to similar pricks from him in the past out of respect. It was time to bring this guy down a few pegs! But I didn't.

For once in my life, I held my tongue and let the steam boil off slowly. I let the scratch he had inflicted bleed and eventually clot. I remembered a recent teaching I had heard about Abraham choosing peace when Lot owed him everything and dared to allow his men to quarrel with Abraham's. I want to choose peace. I want to bear the scratch as my own. Afterall, I'm sure somewhere in his anger there might be truth.

Having the power to vindicate myself and choosing not to...this is definitely not my nature...evidence that in some small way, I am being conformed to Christ.