I look up from my place and see the Shepherd coming in. He sits down. He seems tired. My belly hurts. I crawl over and place my head against his thigh. He rubs my head behind my ear and under my chin. It feels good, reassuring.
Then he kneels in front of me and takes my head in both his hands. He gently lifts my eyes to his. Then he lays his forehead against mine. His eyes match mine, his nose on top of my nose. He whispers some words. I can't understand them; I am just a dog. But they sound wonderful, mysterious, full of meaning. I wish I could understand them.
Then I feel the words pass into me; from my ears and face they go all the way down through me and into my belly. And the pain there stops.
Showing posts with label sheepdog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sheepdog. Show all posts
Friday, July 3, 2015
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
The Difference
I was once told by someone who had just met me in person that I was not what she expected. She said my writing was fierce and angry, but sitting in front of her, I was nothing like that at all. Of course she fell prey to a common fallacy of generalizing a very limited experience (of me, in this case) to what is a much larger and more complex reality. But I don't want to bash her logic.
Instead, I want to apologize...in the old sense of offering a defense...for this blog. It is intended to be a very real and raw and unfiltered record of my experiences. As such, the tone vacillates, mostly across the more troubling spectrum of human emotions, since obviously, I'm not wrestling with much in the busy or more pleasant times; leastways, I don't have time to write about them.
So it occurred to me that the few of you who read this, especially any random surfers who hit on it, may easily get the impression that I'm a hateful and angry person. And in some aspects you would be absolutely correct. But that certainly isn't all I am. Nevertheless, mistaking my state is less of a concern than if you were to mistake my intent toward others.
While I most certainly reference and sometimes quote actual events and people, some of whom might actually read this blog on occasion, you'll also notice that I never use names or identifying characteristics. And as an added safeguard, I'll let you in on a little secret: I sometimes even swap pronouns or other subtle indicators just in case someone starts to think they know who I'm talking about.
Why? Because my intention is never to judge or condemn the person. We are, all of us, much more than any single incident. More even than a history or a portfolio of behavior. We are complex, living people who change and grow and fail and succeed. I have felt the daggers and darts of judgement and misunderstanding and I would never be the source of pain to another.
Like Paul, I am keenly aware, more than most, of my own failings. As raw as this blog is, you are not privy to my most inner thoughts and feelings. The climate in my head is a harsh and terrible place of extremes built in arid arid regions of asceticism, glaring plains of self-scrutiny, tempestuous seas of emotion, and dark mires of spiritualism. Trust me, no one survives there, even myself. My point is that I expound externally nothing harsher than I have already applied to myself. And while you have the option of turning off my blog, I can't get out of my own head. I am very much the subject of the old Linkin Park song. But while this explains it somewhat, it does not excuse my virtiolic.
The difference, I think, is in the target. If you read carefully, you'll notice that my attacks are always directed at a fallacy of logic or belief. Particularly where that fallacy has a negative impact (intended or not) on another and usually weaker party. You see, the vitriolic is toward the idea and it's manifestation in behavior. Not the person. If we were all to play so nice as to not offend anyone about anything they do, the result would be that the weakest and softest among us bear the undue burden of our mistakes. So I'm sorry, I have to speak against it. I know you are not your actions or even your ideas and are therefore not receiving the bullet that you assume to take. No one has the right to allow their problems to harm another without their consent, even if your personal well-being is so entangled with your behavior that you feel personally wounded when I speak against it. In fact, the wound, even as fallacious as your affront is, will likely do you good by forcing you to pay attention to it and perhaps disentangle yourself from yourself somewhat, though even that is categorically not my intent.
As I have said before, I am a sheepdog. I help the shepherd herd the sheep. I know my flock and I will continue to uncompromisingly attack those demons and shades that would harm them, even the ones that pretend to be shadows of holy and upstanding people. If my jaws happen to snap a little too close for comfort, please remember I'm aiming for the leech on your neck and the wound you feel is from it digging in, not from me. Just like any dog, grudges are not held. When things are safe and good, you're welcome to lay your head on my back and we can gnaw a bone together.
Instead, I want to apologize...in the old sense of offering a defense...for this blog. It is intended to be a very real and raw and unfiltered record of my experiences. As such, the tone vacillates, mostly across the more troubling spectrum of human emotions, since obviously, I'm not wrestling with much in the busy or more pleasant times; leastways, I don't have time to write about them.
So it occurred to me that the few of you who read this, especially any random surfers who hit on it, may easily get the impression that I'm a hateful and angry person. And in some aspects you would be absolutely correct. But that certainly isn't all I am. Nevertheless, mistaking my state is less of a concern than if you were to mistake my intent toward others.
While I most certainly reference and sometimes quote actual events and people, some of whom might actually read this blog on occasion, you'll also notice that I never use names or identifying characteristics. And as an added safeguard, I'll let you in on a little secret: I sometimes even swap pronouns or other subtle indicators just in case someone starts to think they know who I'm talking about.
Why? Because my intention is never to judge or condemn the person. We are, all of us, much more than any single incident. More even than a history or a portfolio of behavior. We are complex, living people who change and grow and fail and succeed. I have felt the daggers and darts of judgement and misunderstanding and I would never be the source of pain to another.
Like Paul, I am keenly aware, more than most, of my own failings. As raw as this blog is, you are not privy to my most inner thoughts and feelings. The climate in my head is a harsh and terrible place of extremes built in arid arid regions of asceticism, glaring plains of self-scrutiny, tempestuous seas of emotion, and dark mires of spiritualism. Trust me, no one survives there, even myself. My point is that I expound externally nothing harsher than I have already applied to myself. And while you have the option of turning off my blog, I can't get out of my own head. I am very much the subject of the old Linkin Park song. But while this explains it somewhat, it does not excuse my virtiolic.
The difference, I think, is in the target. If you read carefully, you'll notice that my attacks are always directed at a fallacy of logic or belief. Particularly where that fallacy has a negative impact (intended or not) on another and usually weaker party. You see, the vitriolic is toward the idea and it's manifestation in behavior. Not the person. If we were all to play so nice as to not offend anyone about anything they do, the result would be that the weakest and softest among us bear the undue burden of our mistakes. So I'm sorry, I have to speak against it. I know you are not your actions or even your ideas and are therefore not receiving the bullet that you assume to take. No one has the right to allow their problems to harm another without their consent, even if your personal well-being is so entangled with your behavior that you feel personally wounded when I speak against it. In fact, the wound, even as fallacious as your affront is, will likely do you good by forcing you to pay attention to it and perhaps disentangle yourself from yourself somewhat, though even that is categorically not my intent.
As I have said before, I am a sheepdog. I help the shepherd herd the sheep. I know my flock and I will continue to uncompromisingly attack those demons and shades that would harm them, even the ones that pretend to be shadows of holy and upstanding people. If my jaws happen to snap a little too close for comfort, please remember I'm aiming for the leech on your neck and the wound you feel is from it digging in, not from me. Just like any dog, grudges are not held. When things are safe and good, you're welcome to lay your head on my back and we can gnaw a bone together.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Afterburn
My last post was a rant. I won't apologize for it. It needed to be said. But know that nothing on this blog is for show. I post what I am wrestling with. And I've continued to think about this. Many points came out in the last post that I think could bear further explanation...Or rather, I want to talk about my history to help create understanding...see a previous post on that...perhaps then I will make more sense to those who don't get it and those who might think they get it can see how my ideas might differ or align with theirs. Not that anyone is really reading this anyway, so who cares either way. (Sidebar: thanks to the fanbase, I know both of you are reading.)
Where to start? If you say you used to be a Christian, then you never were...or you still are. It's not the kind of thing that can be undone. It's not a system of beliefs. It's not a culture. It's not a bunch of fables and moralisms. It's not a vague idea of the cosmic good. It's not a magic hat that makes life good. It isn't even to simply follow Jesus' teachings. If you left it, then you never really understood it or if you really truly had hope in it and left over some disappointment, then you still are a Christian.
You see, you can call yourself anything. But when a person truly encounters the living God it changes things. Things inside are different. I'm not going to theologize and give you "3 signs you know you're saved" or any nonsense you might have heard before. When you feel that Love call you and recognize who you are hearing, feeling, whatever, you know it. There's no going back. The job of the Church, which is people, not place or organization, is to stand beside you until you do know it. Period.
I was raised in the typical modern Evangelical church. I was fortunate to receive a good deal of training in the Bible. I know it well. I can argue the apologetics. I was actually trained in persuading someone with the gospel...Literally, "if they say this, you counter with this." It wasn't evil. It was simply schooling in the classic sense. I studied the arguments of great theologians and could cite the verses they used to answer heresies, etc. The goal wasn't to brow beat people. We never did that. Just a principle that prudent study and in-depth knowledge of the Bible were weapons for life and salvation. Think Allistair Begg, Bill Bright, Chuck Colson. It's a whole world that you'd have to be in to understand. I still have great respect for these people.
But I was also a depressive kid. Serious for my age, with difficulty understanding the stupid kids around me. Part of it I now know was due to a rare physical condition that was undiscovered then. But part is simply my nature. I began to see the fruitlessness of our shallow cushy lives. I sank slowly into nihilism. I knew that in the end, nothing we did mattered. What would happen would happen. Bad to good people, good to bad people. Indifference to most. Nothing made sense, so there was no meaning. Read Camus' The Stranger to see what life is like from a purely nihilistic perspective. It's terrifying. I lived there. Too apathetic to kill myself. Pointless to strive. Just waiting for something to kill me. I drove my Jeep without doors and no seatbelts. I laid on the double yellow lines of a bend in the road just hoping. I sliced my arms and chest up just to feel anything. I worked at a nursery and dug my arms into rose bushes, carried cactuses with bare arms so the needles would drive in. This was a double benefit. It woke up some sensation in me, and hid the knife slices. I remember once, hanging from the rafters of the stockroom "to clean them". I had swung out about 20 feet and dangled there two stories up with a broom in one hand. I didn't care. I even almost broke a kids neck for cutting in the lunch line. I don't mean we got in a fight. I mean he did it, didn't pay any attention to me, but was standing right in front of me where the line doubled back with back turned. The adrenlaine flowed, my hands clenched and I was reaching for him when I realized what I was about to do and bolted out of there. I ran out of the school and shivered in cold sweats for 20 minutes. I used to smash my head into bathroom mirrors hoping they'd break and bleed my skull. A school custodian caught me once. He didn't know whether to pray for me or run me off. Of course to everyone else, I was the perfect responsible kid. Few saw it, few knew what to do, and few cared as long as I functioned in some fashion.
Somewhere in there I started having spiritual experiences, which you can read about elsewhere on the internet. Just google cavvvp...all you'll get is me. I didn't understand these things and it wrecked me. I could barely hold together. But in that world, Jesus found me. He revealed himself as real in a way that was undeniable. Either I had experienced what I did, or I was psychotic.
I learned that there were other people like me. I met a bunch of the craziest punk people you could ever meet because the guitarist at my church also played music there. In fact, that guitarist had a huge impact on me that I'm sure he doesn't even know. He was one of the few people in that time who didn't judge. Didn't put on a face. He was a former drug addict from a rock band. His wife was a drug addicted stripper. He told me once that he'd seen our Elders' record collections, "and man they got all the same stuff we do." said even as they condemned me for being loose and rebellious. So I began to distinguish the real from the hypocritical. I saw those punk Christians ostracized when they came around. I was told by the church next door to ours that "they didn't dispute my salvation, but only associated with churches of like faith and order" when I asked if their kids wanted to come to a party I was having for our kids.
I began to see that so-called Christians were the bulk of the problem! We were the Pharisees! So I left mainstream churches and joined the punks. We packed the house. Drug addicts, prostitutes, gay, gutter punks, homeless, hippies, new age, transgender, and just plain mentally disturbed. We even had a church meeting in which we decided that someone was always going to bring a jacket just in case one of the strippers or prostitutes showed up in her work clothes! I'm not kidding! The pastor there became a friend and mentor. He was a wreck of a person. God love him and so do I. His warts were apparent and he didn't shy from it. He was saved by grace and openly said what good was in him was from God. And even now I will stand beside him at the Judgement and claim his as a friend, many of whom are there because of him.
We invaded dark and sinister places. We have seen God part crowds in Ybor, open dance floors in clubs. I once sat in a wiccan coffee house that was run by not the nice kind of wiccan. I have not experienced more spiritual warfare than in that place. I could feel the oppression as we prayed for protection of my friends and others in the place...and this wizard was fighting us hard to drive us out and claim these people. I could see it in his face. He knew we were opposing him and neither of us said a word or gave an overt sign. Just sat there silently praying while drinking some cheap brew.
But things change. People are flawed. Things run their course. And this did. People were lost. Schisms happened. Eventually we joined a friend's church. I hit it off with this pastor who is still my mentor and spiritual director. But I watched as several iterations of forcing two very different types of people together failed, leaving pain in their wake. It wasn't for lack of trying. The "normal" people just weren't comfortable with the grittiness of the others. They couldn't see us as partners. We were always projects. The punks cloistered and refused to integrate because they knew they weren't wanted. No one likes to be looked at like that, even unintentionally! And emotionally damaged people like many of these can't actually even handle it. It crushes them, so they drive away good intentions and close the circle even tighter.
Time and time again, I've seen it. Mainstreamers get some idea that they're edgy or cool and try to step into a world they don't get. I have seen some notable exceptions. But they are few and far between.
And not all of this type look weird on the outside. Many would fit right in. You eat, shop, and work right beside them. I've even seen relatively normal people who are starting to discover this real, honest, classless faith continually wounded and turned away by churches. The churches seek the majority in the "war for souls" and don't have time for the complaints, the dissenters, the ones who fall through the cracks. Acceptable losses. I emphatically stand up and defy that mindset. No, never is one lost, not any are acceptable. The Good Shepherd leaves the 99 to find the one. I say the 99 should be looking too! People will conflict. But resources are probably there if you'd open your mind to look for them and step aside when it isn't you. Why not partner instead of compete? There's churches on every corner and they all act like they're the only one in the wilderness of lost people. Here's an example of what I mean:
A wiccan couple came in to a mainstream church I worked at and introduced themselves as such. Now why would they do that? If they were just checking it out, they would simple come in like anyone else. No one need know. The reason they did it is because they were testing. They wanted something and wanted to see how they were received. I told people, come get me when they get here. I'll talk to them. I know what they believe and can welcome them. I even pulled a little Paul and cited my qualifications to do so. Of course, I wasn't worthy to do that. Instead some "better qualified" pastor talked to them and they never came back. No doubt he comforts himself that you can't win them all and they just must not have been ready. Wow! You sound like me. I thought you were Evangelical? If there's a tool in your tool box you have to make use of it! That's being a good steward, dude! Leverage everything, remember that sermon? I even told you I was there so there's no excuse. You just blew it, they could be going to hell because of it.
Thankfully, I don't believe it is up to us to save anyone. So I can easily forgive this man and know that God is far greater than our feebleness. He doesn't depend on us. He doesn't. But by the standard you mete, it is meted to you. This man's own theology condemns him!
So where does this long ramble leave us? I am a bridge. I am an interpreter. I can communicate across boundaries. This is my gift. I am pitbull, donkey stubborn and will not back down from what is right. This is my gift. I can love and forgive, but will not participate in what is not right. I speak for my flock of black sheep. I'm not the shepherd. That's Jesus. I'm just a sheepdog, and I'm not alone. If anyone comes after my sheep, I'll bite. If anyone inadvertently hurts my sheep, you'll hear me bark. And if you're sitting out there lost, hurt, fending off the wild beasts, or being pushed around by the prettier sheep, just make what noise you can...I'm coming...and I won't leave until the Shepherd finds you.
Where to start? If you say you used to be a Christian, then you never were...or you still are. It's not the kind of thing that can be undone. It's not a system of beliefs. It's not a culture. It's not a bunch of fables and moralisms. It's not a vague idea of the cosmic good. It's not a magic hat that makes life good. It isn't even to simply follow Jesus' teachings. If you left it, then you never really understood it or if you really truly had hope in it and left over some disappointment, then you still are a Christian.
You see, you can call yourself anything. But when a person truly encounters the living God it changes things. Things inside are different. I'm not going to theologize and give you "3 signs you know you're saved" or any nonsense you might have heard before. When you feel that Love call you and recognize who you are hearing, feeling, whatever, you know it. There's no going back. The job of the Church, which is people, not place or organization, is to stand beside you until you do know it. Period.
I was raised in the typical modern Evangelical church. I was fortunate to receive a good deal of training in the Bible. I know it well. I can argue the apologetics. I was actually trained in persuading someone with the gospel...Literally, "if they say this, you counter with this." It wasn't evil. It was simply schooling in the classic sense. I studied the arguments of great theologians and could cite the verses they used to answer heresies, etc. The goal wasn't to brow beat people. We never did that. Just a principle that prudent study and in-depth knowledge of the Bible were weapons for life and salvation. Think Allistair Begg, Bill Bright, Chuck Colson. It's a whole world that you'd have to be in to understand. I still have great respect for these people.
But I was also a depressive kid. Serious for my age, with difficulty understanding the stupid kids around me. Part of it I now know was due to a rare physical condition that was undiscovered then. But part is simply my nature. I began to see the fruitlessness of our shallow cushy lives. I sank slowly into nihilism. I knew that in the end, nothing we did mattered. What would happen would happen. Bad to good people, good to bad people. Indifference to most. Nothing made sense, so there was no meaning. Read Camus' The Stranger to see what life is like from a purely nihilistic perspective. It's terrifying. I lived there. Too apathetic to kill myself. Pointless to strive. Just waiting for something to kill me. I drove my Jeep without doors and no seatbelts. I laid on the double yellow lines of a bend in the road just hoping. I sliced my arms and chest up just to feel anything. I worked at a nursery and dug my arms into rose bushes, carried cactuses with bare arms so the needles would drive in. This was a double benefit. It woke up some sensation in me, and hid the knife slices. I remember once, hanging from the rafters of the stockroom "to clean them". I had swung out about 20 feet and dangled there two stories up with a broom in one hand. I didn't care. I even almost broke a kids neck for cutting in the lunch line. I don't mean we got in a fight. I mean he did it, didn't pay any attention to me, but was standing right in front of me where the line doubled back with back turned. The adrenlaine flowed, my hands clenched and I was reaching for him when I realized what I was about to do and bolted out of there. I ran out of the school and shivered in cold sweats for 20 minutes. I used to smash my head into bathroom mirrors hoping they'd break and bleed my skull. A school custodian caught me once. He didn't know whether to pray for me or run me off. Of course to everyone else, I was the perfect responsible kid. Few saw it, few knew what to do, and few cared as long as I functioned in some fashion.
Somewhere in there I started having spiritual experiences, which you can read about elsewhere on the internet. Just google cavvvp...all you'll get is me. I didn't understand these things and it wrecked me. I could barely hold together. But in that world, Jesus found me. He revealed himself as real in a way that was undeniable. Either I had experienced what I did, or I was psychotic.
I learned that there were other people like me. I met a bunch of the craziest punk people you could ever meet because the guitarist at my church also played music there. In fact, that guitarist had a huge impact on me that I'm sure he doesn't even know. He was one of the few people in that time who didn't judge. Didn't put on a face. He was a former drug addict from a rock band. His wife was a drug addicted stripper. He told me once that he'd seen our Elders' record collections, "and man they got all the same stuff we do." said even as they condemned me for being loose and rebellious. So I began to distinguish the real from the hypocritical. I saw those punk Christians ostracized when they came around. I was told by the church next door to ours that "they didn't dispute my salvation, but only associated with churches of like faith and order" when I asked if their kids wanted to come to a party I was having for our kids.
I began to see that so-called Christians were the bulk of the problem! We were the Pharisees! So I left mainstream churches and joined the punks. We packed the house. Drug addicts, prostitutes, gay, gutter punks, homeless, hippies, new age, transgender, and just plain mentally disturbed. We even had a church meeting in which we decided that someone was always going to bring a jacket just in case one of the strippers or prostitutes showed up in her work clothes! I'm not kidding! The pastor there became a friend and mentor. He was a wreck of a person. God love him and so do I. His warts were apparent and he didn't shy from it. He was saved by grace and openly said what good was in him was from God. And even now I will stand beside him at the Judgement and claim his as a friend, many of whom are there because of him.
We invaded dark and sinister places. We have seen God part crowds in Ybor, open dance floors in clubs. I once sat in a wiccan coffee house that was run by not the nice kind of wiccan. I have not experienced more spiritual warfare than in that place. I could feel the oppression as we prayed for protection of my friends and others in the place...and this wizard was fighting us hard to drive us out and claim these people. I could see it in his face. He knew we were opposing him and neither of us said a word or gave an overt sign. Just sat there silently praying while drinking some cheap brew.
But things change. People are flawed. Things run their course. And this did. People were lost. Schisms happened. Eventually we joined a friend's church. I hit it off with this pastor who is still my mentor and spiritual director. But I watched as several iterations of forcing two very different types of people together failed, leaving pain in their wake. It wasn't for lack of trying. The "normal" people just weren't comfortable with the grittiness of the others. They couldn't see us as partners. We were always projects. The punks cloistered and refused to integrate because they knew they weren't wanted. No one likes to be looked at like that, even unintentionally! And emotionally damaged people like many of these can't actually even handle it. It crushes them, so they drive away good intentions and close the circle even tighter.
Time and time again, I've seen it. Mainstreamers get some idea that they're edgy or cool and try to step into a world they don't get. I have seen some notable exceptions. But they are few and far between.
And not all of this type look weird on the outside. Many would fit right in. You eat, shop, and work right beside them. I've even seen relatively normal people who are starting to discover this real, honest, classless faith continually wounded and turned away by churches. The churches seek the majority in the "war for souls" and don't have time for the complaints, the dissenters, the ones who fall through the cracks. Acceptable losses. I emphatically stand up and defy that mindset. No, never is one lost, not any are acceptable. The Good Shepherd leaves the 99 to find the one. I say the 99 should be looking too! People will conflict. But resources are probably there if you'd open your mind to look for them and step aside when it isn't you. Why not partner instead of compete? There's churches on every corner and they all act like they're the only one in the wilderness of lost people. Here's an example of what I mean:
A wiccan couple came in to a mainstream church I worked at and introduced themselves as such. Now why would they do that? If they were just checking it out, they would simple come in like anyone else. No one need know. The reason they did it is because they were testing. They wanted something and wanted to see how they were received. I told people, come get me when they get here. I'll talk to them. I know what they believe and can welcome them. I even pulled a little Paul and cited my qualifications to do so. Of course, I wasn't worthy to do that. Instead some "better qualified" pastor talked to them and they never came back. No doubt he comforts himself that you can't win them all and they just must not have been ready. Wow! You sound like me. I thought you were Evangelical? If there's a tool in your tool box you have to make use of it! That's being a good steward, dude! Leverage everything, remember that sermon? I even told you I was there so there's no excuse. You just blew it, they could be going to hell because of it.
Thankfully, I don't believe it is up to us to save anyone. So I can easily forgive this man and know that God is far greater than our feebleness. He doesn't depend on us. He doesn't. But by the standard you mete, it is meted to you. This man's own theology condemns him!
So where does this long ramble leave us? I am a bridge. I am an interpreter. I can communicate across boundaries. This is my gift. I am pitbull, donkey stubborn and will not back down from what is right. This is my gift. I can love and forgive, but will not participate in what is not right. I speak for my flock of black sheep. I'm not the shepherd. That's Jesus. I'm just a sheepdog, and I'm not alone. If anyone comes after my sheep, I'll bite. If anyone inadvertently hurts my sheep, you'll hear me bark. And if you're sitting out there lost, hurt, fending off the wild beasts, or being pushed around by the prettier sheep, just make what noise you can...I'm coming...and I won't leave until the Shepherd finds you.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Woof
My new life is amazing. I mean that literally. I am so often amazed now. But I have also never been more aware of my gross inadequacy to comprehend. The metaphor of sheepdog has never felt more apt.
In this new life I am more keenly aware of joys and pains, but I am powerless to understand them. In the joys I wag uncontrollably so that every fiber trembles with it. In the pains, I want to help but am not capable. These paws just won't grasp and I can't understand all the words. And so I slink down and lay at your feet, unable to do more, but waiting for any sign that I can understand. At one of those words I will jump to action. I start at every sound, rife with anticipation. If a bite would help I would bite. If my head on your knee would help, I would place it.
I am sitting. Waiting for the command. For the opening. I will spring to whatever action is required. In the meantime, I can't even determine if you can understand me. Do you know what I am saying to you? Do you know that my greatest joy is to be a part of yours?
The hardest thing for me is the waiting. I am doing my best. I must sit. Stay. Hold. The Master knows what he's doing. I am just the sheepdog.
In this new life I am more keenly aware of joys and pains, but I am powerless to understand them. In the joys I wag uncontrollably so that every fiber trembles with it. In the pains, I want to help but am not capable. These paws just won't grasp and I can't understand all the words. And so I slink down and lay at your feet, unable to do more, but waiting for any sign that I can understand. At one of those words I will jump to action. I start at every sound, rife with anticipation. If a bite would help I would bite. If my head on your knee would help, I would place it.
I am sitting. Waiting for the command. For the opening. I will spring to whatever action is required. In the meantime, I can't even determine if you can understand me. Do you know what I am saying to you? Do you know that my greatest joy is to be a part of yours?
The hardest thing for me is the waiting. I am doing my best. I must sit. Stay. Hold. The Master knows what he's doing. I am just the sheepdog.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Unspeakable
Sometimes I have nothing to say. I go through cycles. But for once I have tons of things to say and can't find words for them.
Suffice to say, the life God has for me is opening up and it is overwhelmingly more than what I would dream of. I mean this in very literal ways. This is why it is hard to put into words in a general context. There is nothing general about it and I can't possibly explain the intimate and complex details that surround it.
Perhaps the Via Negativa would help. So I will say what it is not. It is not in my head. It is not philosophical, affecting no real change in the material world. It is not tied to the institutions we call church...
...Here is what I would say and the ones about whom it is written can understand it for themselves. You are beautiful. You are so loved. God has seen you. He has not even once forgotten you. I don't know the reasons for the circumstances in your life. I am just a Sheep Dog who barely understands the Shepherd's language. But I see what he has done for you. I see how the universe has been ordered for your specific good. I see you as he sees you. You are stunning and powerful beyond compare. My love for you is not rooted in pity nor charity, nor brotherly affection. It is as beyond me as every good thing I have ever done. To be near you, to guard, aid, serve, you is an honor and a pleasure. I am elated that you would call me friend. You have only to make a need known and I will be about meeting it with whatever is within my power. I don't even know what that is. But I have been charged with doing it and the resources and methods will be provided. This is not an idle promise, as I hope you now see. All that has been given to me is from God and for his purposes. I hold it lightly and in common with you.
And I truly enjoy your company, your humor, your presence. I want to be around you because I like you. It is good for me too. I am better for having known you. In one sense, because doing what we are made for is fulfilling, but more so because you inspire me, comfort me, encourage me even if you don't know it.
In short, I love you. And while nothing I can say will prove it or guarantee any moment into the future, it is true as true and every moment that I am there demonstrates it to be so.
This is the life we were called to live. This tribal, close, familial life. Thank you for having me into yours. Together things will only get better. I know it because God has shown me the ending. Let's walk toward it together.
Suffice to say, the life God has for me is opening up and it is overwhelmingly more than what I would dream of. I mean this in very literal ways. This is why it is hard to put into words in a general context. There is nothing general about it and I can't possibly explain the intimate and complex details that surround it.
Perhaps the Via Negativa would help. So I will say what it is not. It is not in my head. It is not philosophical, affecting no real change in the material world. It is not tied to the institutions we call church...
...Here is what I would say and the ones about whom it is written can understand it for themselves. You are beautiful. You are so loved. God has seen you. He has not even once forgotten you. I don't know the reasons for the circumstances in your life. I am just a Sheep Dog who barely understands the Shepherd's language. But I see what he has done for you. I see how the universe has been ordered for your specific good. I see you as he sees you. You are stunning and powerful beyond compare. My love for you is not rooted in pity nor charity, nor brotherly affection. It is as beyond me as every good thing I have ever done. To be near you, to guard, aid, serve, you is an honor and a pleasure. I am elated that you would call me friend. You have only to make a need known and I will be about meeting it with whatever is within my power. I don't even know what that is. But I have been charged with doing it and the resources and methods will be provided. This is not an idle promise, as I hope you now see. All that has been given to me is from God and for his purposes. I hold it lightly and in common with you.
And I truly enjoy your company, your humor, your presence. I want to be around you because I like you. It is good for me too. I am better for having known you. In one sense, because doing what we are made for is fulfilling, but more so because you inspire me, comfort me, encourage me even if you don't know it.
In short, I love you. And while nothing I can say will prove it or guarantee any moment into the future, it is true as true and every moment that I am there demonstrates it to be so.
This is the life we were called to live. This tribal, close, familial life. Thank you for having me into yours. Together things will only get better. I know it because God has shown me the ending. Let's walk toward it together.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
lost world
Someone commented to me about the last post wondering why God hadn't spared me that pain. I truthfully never even thought of it in terms of why didn't he spare me, or anyone for that matter. I guess that requires that you expect something from God to start with. I guess I can't help but seeing how bad and unfair the world is. That's what led to the nihilism anyway. There seemed to be no order, no reason. The good suffered and the bad were rewarded and at other times it went the other way around. And through it all people bickered and competed over the most stupid unimportant things.
Obviously what I had been taught about God and the world didn't appear to hold up. It still doesn't to a large extent. That's what makes me so upset with the trite answers. I didn't look like I was that close to the edge most of the time. I had moments, but otherwise, I looked pretty together. So in any group, I always consider who might be sitting right there teetering on the very brink. Who might be a thread away from harming themselves or others. One careful word or kind gesture may prevent a tragedy.
There are so many people for whom life is a cruel joke. They want something real, something permanent. Something they desperately need but can't find anywhere. There's churches on every corner. If that was the answer, you'd think in 2000 years we'd have made a bunch more progress than this, huh? We are corrupt beings. We white wash it, but it only takes an open eye to see the results of our poison.
Jesus railed against the religious institutions of his day. He spoke in the "churches" of his era, was trained as a teacher, a preacher. But he offended them so much that he had to take to meeting in the country. John the Baptist, whom Jesus called greater than any man born, was a half-crazed hermit! His followers had to go find him in the desert! It was the religious leaders that plotted against Jesus and crucified him. Yet, in Jesus' very name, we have turned his ekklesia, the "called out" into the same entrenched institution that he railed against.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Christians. I don't even hate churches all together. I'm just saying that they are not bastions of God's Kingdom. They are miserably flawed at the root. Just like everything else in this world. And the more levels you add on top of the simple metanoia faith, that many levels you have departed from who God is. I don't care how much people might argue that the institutionalization is necessary to reach people...not at the expense of losing even one. Thank God that HE is the good shepherd. That HE is the one who saves the one lost lamb. No one else can.
If anything good comes out of this blog, it would be that those who do not know this Jesus will seek out more and that those who do, will realize what it means to seek first HIS kingdom and HIS righteousness. Myself included. I am just a howling dog running the flank for my master and holding the wolves at bay. And you can keep the gold and pleasures of heaven. I want nothing more than to be able to lie at his feet when the day is done and hear the words, "good boy." That's more than I deserve.
Obviously what I had been taught about God and the world didn't appear to hold up. It still doesn't to a large extent. That's what makes me so upset with the trite answers. I didn't look like I was that close to the edge most of the time. I had moments, but otherwise, I looked pretty together. So in any group, I always consider who might be sitting right there teetering on the very brink. Who might be a thread away from harming themselves or others. One careful word or kind gesture may prevent a tragedy.
There are so many people for whom life is a cruel joke. They want something real, something permanent. Something they desperately need but can't find anywhere. There's churches on every corner. If that was the answer, you'd think in 2000 years we'd have made a bunch more progress than this, huh? We are corrupt beings. We white wash it, but it only takes an open eye to see the results of our poison.
Jesus railed against the religious institutions of his day. He spoke in the "churches" of his era, was trained as a teacher, a preacher. But he offended them so much that he had to take to meeting in the country. John the Baptist, whom Jesus called greater than any man born, was a half-crazed hermit! His followers had to go find him in the desert! It was the religious leaders that plotted against Jesus and crucified him. Yet, in Jesus' very name, we have turned his ekklesia, the "called out" into the same entrenched institution that he railed against.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Christians. I don't even hate churches all together. I'm just saying that they are not bastions of God's Kingdom. They are miserably flawed at the root. Just like everything else in this world. And the more levels you add on top of the simple metanoia faith, that many levels you have departed from who God is. I don't care how much people might argue that the institutionalization is necessary to reach people...not at the expense of losing even one. Thank God that HE is the good shepherd. That HE is the one who saves the one lost lamb. No one else can.
If anything good comes out of this blog, it would be that those who do not know this Jesus will seek out more and that those who do, will realize what it means to seek first HIS kingdom and HIS righteousness. Myself included. I am just a howling dog running the flank for my master and holding the wolves at bay. And you can keep the gold and pleasures of heaven. I want nothing more than to be able to lie at his feet when the day is done and hear the words, "good boy." That's more than I deserve.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Sheepdog
I knew someone who once said, if Jesus is the 'Good Shepherd', we should be sheepdogs. This is an excellent metaphor if you think it through.
In order of existence, no human could be equal with God, so an 'animal is to human as human is to God' analogy works well to describe humans. Not to mention that anthropomorphism has always been used to cast a spotlight on aspects of human nature.
Dogs are familiar animals. They are well adapted...actually bred by humans to be companions and assistants to humans. Our two biological paths are intertwined nearly as far back as we can trace. If there is any one animal that would best represent our existence in relation to God's on our own level, I think it would be a dog. They understand us, though not completely. They trust, but think for themselves. They are dependent on us, but capable of surviving alone if conditions are right...though even then, mostly still adjunct to humanity. Few stray dogs actually go wild like, say, a cat might. They are moldable into various behaviors and modes of being...that is, trainable.
Beyond this, dogs exhibit some of the best qualities in humans. Loyalty, affection, devotion, service, selflessness, altruism, etc.
So to extend into the realm of sheepdogs, they go where the shepherd commands. They hear his voice and they know their job. They encircle the sheep and keep them safe. They are extensions of the shepherd, but he is the head. They serve with joy and abandon, because the tasks they perform are what they were bred for. It is instinctual, though it must be refined by training.
They respond only to the Shepherd and will not deviate from his commands, though they are free and unleashed to adapt to their work as they see fit. They also thrive on the praise and affection of the Shepherd and seek no other reward.
In order of existence, no human could be equal with God, so an 'animal is to human as human is to God' analogy works well to describe humans. Not to mention that anthropomorphism has always been used to cast a spotlight on aspects of human nature.
Dogs are familiar animals. They are well adapted...actually bred by humans to be companions and assistants to humans. Our two biological paths are intertwined nearly as far back as we can trace. If there is any one animal that would best represent our existence in relation to God's on our own level, I think it would be a dog. They understand us, though not completely. They trust, but think for themselves. They are dependent on us, but capable of surviving alone if conditions are right...though even then, mostly still adjunct to humanity. Few stray dogs actually go wild like, say, a cat might. They are moldable into various behaviors and modes of being...that is, trainable.
Beyond this, dogs exhibit some of the best qualities in humans. Loyalty, affection, devotion, service, selflessness, altruism, etc.
So to extend into the realm of sheepdogs, they go where the shepherd commands. They hear his voice and they know their job. They encircle the sheep and keep them safe. They are extensions of the shepherd, but he is the head. They serve with joy and abandon, because the tasks they perform are what they were bred for. It is instinctual, though it must be refined by training.
They respond only to the Shepherd and will not deviate from his commands, though they are free and unleashed to adapt to their work as they see fit. They also thrive on the praise and affection of the Shepherd and seek no other reward.
This is what I want to be. This is largely how I feel. Deep down, I honestly don't care for status and accomplishments, career, etc. I just want to do what brings me and others joy and have enough to be sufficient. I want to be free to lay at my master's feet and feel his touch. and when he speaks to me, I want ot respond instantly.
I find this metaphor especially strong in the service I do with children. I find it sheer joy to play with them, to let them be children with me. I would sooner die than have any harm fall to any one of them. But I know the bounds they must have and I am not shy about enforcing those disciplinary boundaries for the sheeps' own good. Better a nip or bark from me than a greater harm that they can't see. I will not allow a sheep to mislead the others and I am fiercely protective of them against any wolves. I know my master's voice and his commands to me and I will obey them until I am called off by him alone.
I hope to be a good sheepdog.
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