Today’s post begins with the lyrics from a wonderful song by Jonny Diaz.
“Alarm clock screaming bare feet hit the floor
It’s off to the races everybody out the door
I’m feeling like I’m falling behind, it’s a crazy life
Ninety miles an hour going fast as I can
Trying to push a little harder trying to get the upper hand
So much to do in so little time, it’s a crazy life
It’s ready, set, go it’s another wild day
When the stress is on the rise in my heart I feel you say just
Breathe, just breathe
Come and rest at my feet
And be, just be
Chaos calls but all you really need
Is to just breathe
Third cup of joe just to get me through the day
Want to make the most of time but I feel it slip away
I wonder if there’s something more to this crazy life
I’m busy, busy, busy, and it’s no surprise to see
That I only have time for me, me, me
There’s gotta be something more to this crazy life
I’m hanging on tight to another wild day
When it starts to fall apart in my heart I hear you say just
Breathe, just breathe
Come and rest at my feet
And be, just be
Chaos calls but all you really need
Is to take it in, fill your lungs
The peace of God that overcomes
Just breathe (just breathe)
let your weary spirit rest
Lay down what’s good and find what’s best
Just breathe (just breathe)
Just breathe, just breathe
Come and rest at my feet
And be, just be
Chaos calls but all you really need
Is to just breathe
Just breathe”
(https://www.google.com/search?q=lyrics+Just+Breathe!+Christian+song&rlz=1C1GCEA_enUS844US844&oq=lyrics+Just+Breathe!+Christian+song&aqs=chrome..69i57j0i22i30j0i390.14281j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8, accessed 11-01-2022)
I had an interesting exchange of emails this morning with a guy that I am sponsoring in my 12-step group.
“Dear N.,
I was especially struck by this sentence: “I drive myself crazy trying to get the things I think I want, forgetting that if I just let go, I’ll probably get better than I can imagine.” Yes!
Your words about love also touched me deeply. You are absolutely right about the love always being there. You are also right, I think, about the fact that we can only experience that love when we let go and are doing what we can to receive and participate in that love.
In terms of the letting go part, the thought occurred to me that, in fact, we do this all the time. It is called breathing. We let go of one breath in order to take another. Many religions, philosophies, and non-descript approaches to life emphasize breathing. I am struck that, in my own tradition, Christianity, breath is mentioned at the very beginning of the second creation story in Genesis 2:7. This original breath was breathed into us by God. Perhaps every breath is breathed into us by God. None are guaranteed. All are freely given. I think I’m a bit more aware of this because of having blood clots on my lungs on a couple of occasions.
In fact, the same Hebrew word (ruah) can mean “spirit, wind, or breath”. It is sometimes hard to decide which translation is the best in a particular text of the Bible. The same word in Greek (pneuma) is also used in similar ways in the Greek New Testament.
So, in a sense, with every breath, I am breathing in God’s breath. Maybe what we are really beathing in is love, but we don’t have the sense to know it. And, unfortunately, I am forever trying to hang on to my last breath when God has a fresh one for me.
“Be careful, in doing battle with this guy, that you don’t become just like him.” (Advice from my exceedingly wise father-in-law, when I was a young pastor. A man in the church I served was stirring up a lot of dust.)
“Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in his wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.” (Words from a wise old hymn)
The first four verses of Psalm 36 focus on the wicked person. It is not a pretty picture. But then, in verses 5-9, the psalmist makes a dramatic pivot. Suddenly, he is no longer focusing on the wicked person. No! Instead, he is focused on the sweet goodness of God.
“Psa. 36:5 Your steadfast love, O LORD, extends to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the clouds.
6 Your righteousness is like the mountains of God;
your judgments are like the great deep;
man and beast you save, O LORD.
Psa. 36:7 How precious is your steadfast love, O God!
The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
8 They feast on the abundance of your house,
and you give them drink from the river of your delights.
9 For with you is the fountain of life;
in your light do we see light.” (Psalm 36: 5-9, English Standard Version)
Someone has said that whatever gets your attention gets you! This could suggest that if we focus on wicked people too much, we become the slaves of those wicked people. Perhaps we also become, in some measure at least, like those wicked people. The possibility is that we become like whatever or whomever we look at for a long time. If this is true—and I suspect that it is—we need to be very careful about our focus. Yes, we need to recognize and admit the wickedness of the wicked. Perhaps we have areas of our lives where we are wicked and don’t really want to change. That needs to be taken seriously.
However, we shouldn’t camp out with wicked people, even when those people is me! We need to move on. The psalmist eventually gets his eyes off the wicked and instead decides to focus on God. And what sort of God does the man see?
Well, for one thing, the psalmist speaks of a God who is loving. Now I hear someone say, “Wait a minute! This is the Old Testament! Isn’t the God of the Old Testament a God of wrath, while the New Testament God is a God of love?”
I would say that I hate to break the news to you, but the truth is that I’m glad to break the news to you: God’s love is all over the pages of the Old Testament. Yes, there is also a lot of violence and wrath, but there is a lot of love too. It all depends on where you look.
Notice that the love of the LORD reaches the heavens. God’s love is high, like the heavens, overarching the world. God’s love is high above the wicked, high above the righteous, high above everyone and everything.
And then, there is God’s faithfulness. It reaches to the clouds. I am writing this meditation on a cloudy day. It is a wonderfully encouraging thing to think on a penetrating, dreary day—the first day of winter—that God’s faithfulness, God’s consistency, reaches so high. It is a wonderful thing that God is loving, but if God’s love is not consistent, such “love” wouldn’t do us much good. We need a God who sticks with us.
And that is the sort of loving and consistent God that we do, in fact, have.
“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, 7 casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:6-7, English Standard Version)
I have made a great discovery: God’s timing is not my timing. And this is good news, because I have a lousy sense of timing anyway. That’s true when I am at the plate, trying to hit a softball. It is also true when I am going through multiple, crushing stresses as I am right now.
But here is my confession concerning God’s sense of timing:
And because of the many “more-nesses” of God, I can (at least occasionally) back off of my own frantic timetables.
In 1 Peter 5:7, quoted above, the Greek word translated “he cares” is in the present tense. In Greek, the present tense is used for actions that are taking place continually. God’s continual care for me, for all of us, means that God’s apparent slowness is not a function of his lack of caring about us. God cares continually.
In view of the continual caring of God, the clause “. . . so that at the proper time he may exalt you . . .” means that I need to count on God’s care, even as I wait.
I can wait in God’s care, knowing that God is never late.
I want to know God, but I don’t really. At least, I don’t know God very well.
I suppose that this is only to be expected. After all, God is infinite and I have lots of limits. God is holy, I am not. God is all-knowing. I don’t know much about much, and it is quite likely that much of what I know for sure is just plain wrong. The list goes on and on, but I won’t.
In Galatians 4:9, the Apostle Paul says that the believers know God, but then immediately adds that it would be better to say that they are known by God.
Alan Cole, in the Tyndale Commentary on the book of Galatians, comments on 4:9,
In the Bible to know has a far deeper meaning than the superficial concept of intellectual knowledge alone. That is why it can be used of the relation of God and humanity, and also of the peculiarly intimate relation of husband and wife. But it is typical of Paul’s strong theological position that he is reluctant to speak of humans ‘knowing’ God; at once, he corrects it to the passive to be known by God. This transfers salvation altogether out of the possibly subjective and possibly illusory into the great objective reality of the will of God.
We all long to be completely known. We are also deathly afraid of it. If anyone knew us completely, knew all our fears, selfishnesses, lusts, and hang-ups, would they love us? Love us?!? Would they even be able to stay in the same room with us, or would they run for the exit?
But the same Bible that tells us that God knows us completely also tells us that God loves us totally. How on earth can that be!
I don’t know, but I do believe it to be true.
What I am trying to say here has been much better said and sung by Tauren Wells. Here are the lyrics to a wonderful song that he wrote titled “Known”:
“It’s so unusual it’s frightening
You see right through the mess inside me
And you call me out to pull me in
You tell me I can start again
And I don’t need to keep on hiding
I’m fully known and loved by You
You won’t let go no matter what I do
And it’s not one or the other
It’s hard truth and ridiculous grace
To be known fully known and loved by You
I’m fully known and loved by You
It’s so like You to keep pursuing
It’s so like me to go astray
But You guard my heart with Your truth
A kind of love that’s bullet proof
And I surrender to Your kindness
I’m fully known and loved by You
You won’t let go no matter what I do
And it’s not one or the other
It’s hard truth and ridiculous grace
To be known fully known and loved by You
I’m fully known and loved by You
How real, how wide
How rich, how high is Your heart
I cannot find the reasons why
You give me so much
How real, how wide
How rich, how high is Your heart
I cannot find the reasons why
You give me so much
I’m fully known and loved by You
You won’t let go no matter what I do
And it’s not one or the other
It’s hard truth and ridiculous grace
To be known fully known and loved by You
I’m fully known and loved by You
It’s so unusual it’s frightening
I’m fully known and loved by You”
So, it was a good World Series, wasn’t it? It was heart-breaking for the Indians and their fans. It was exhilarating to “the lovable losers” (a.k.a. “the Cubs”).
And me?
Well, I live in Ohio, but my team is not the Indians. (I won’t mention the name of “my” team, but I will tell you that their initials are “The Cincinnati Reds.”)
However, despite living in Ohio now, I lived in the Chicago area for three years, and fell in love with the Cubbies, a love that persists—except, of course, when they play the Reds.
Stir in another factor in order to bake this ambivalence pie: I like to root for whoever is down, whoever is the most “Cinderella-ish.” Going into the World Series, the team that was most like Cinderella was Cleveland.
However, after four games, the Indians were up three to one, and were heading back to Cleveland. “Well,” I said to myself, “my good friend John is from Cleveland, so it is okay if the Indians win.
And, if I were a betting man, then that is precisely the way I would have bet. However, there would be several more HUGE “howevers.”
HOWEVER, the Cubs won the next two games in Cleveland, and in a back-and-forth wrestling match between the two Cinderellas, the Cubs won game seven. It was one of the best baseball games I have never watched. (I went to bed when the Cubs were up three to one, thinking that Chi Town had the matter well in hand. Silly me! Judge me not! I was tired!)
Virtually everything makes me think of God, even cliff-hanger Cinderella baseball wrestling matches.
God loves Cinderellas! This is true in the Old Testament, where God chose Cinderellas such as Abram and Sarah, Hannah, Gideon, and David. Indeed, Israel itself wasn’t much to look at. (See Deuteronomy 7:1-8, for example. Of course, no nation is much to look at. Sometimes, we forget that.)
The New Testament is all about God’s very very HUGE “however.” Jesus showed great love for Cinderella teams and Cinderella individuals. Jesus’ actions as well as his teachings confirm this. According to Luke 14:15-24, the Cinderellas of the world are the ones who get invited to the ball. Others are too busy being busy (and too busy making excuses) to attend.
I had lunch recently with a good friend who feels like a Cinderella. He thinks of all that he could have accomplished if only he had made better decisions in his life. I know this man very well. He has been exceedingly frank about his struggles and failings. Still, he thinks of himself as a Cinderella.
And yet, I think of him as a very successful person. He has accomplished a lot of really good things, including loving me. And I am not the easiest person in the world to love!
I suspect that all of us feel like Cinderella. Some of us feel that way some of the time, some most of the time, and some all of the time. We are all waiting for a handsome prince (or princess) to come and place the right shoe on our foot.
Perhaps God has already put the slipper on our foot. Perhaps the slipper is called “Grace!” And God’s grace is the hugest “however” of them all.
DTEB
“A big, tough samurai once went to see a little monk.
“Monk!”
He barked, in a voice accustomed to instant obedience.
“Teach me about heaven and hell!”
The monk looked up at the mighty warrior and replied with utter disdain,
“Teach you about heaven and hell? I couldn’t teach you about anything. You’re dumb. You’re dirty. You’re a disgrace, an embarrassment to the samurai class. Get out of my sight. I can’t stand you.”
The samurai got furious. He shook, red in the face, speechless with rage. He pulled out his sword, and prepared to slay the monk.
Looking straight into the samurai’s eyes, the monk said softly,
“That’s hell.”
The samurai froze, realizing the compassion of the monk who had risked his life to show him hell! He put down his sword and fell to his knees, filled with gratitude.
The monk said softly,
“And that’s heaven.”
Excerpted from Conscious Business: How to Build Value Through Values.”
(The preceding quote is from the site http://www.onbeing.org/blog/the-little-monk-and-the-samurai-a-zen-parable/5496, accessed 10-31-2016.)
Of course, the truth is that we are not what we do or feel at any given moment. And the truth is that we are what we do or feel at any given moment. We are more than what we do, but we are not less than what we do.
I have been trying a trick suggested by some Buddhist writers. When I am feeling gluttonous, for example, I say, “I am gluttony.” For some reason, this seems to help me not be quite so gluttonous. I’m not sure why.
Of course, I follow up such statements as, “I am gluttony,” with the statement, “I am the awareness of gluttony.”
This approach sometimes has some strangely amusing effects. For example, I was inclined to engage in sexual fantasy, so I promptly said, “I am sexual fantasy.” I then said, “I am awareness of sexual fantasy.”
Then, I felt pride that I had arrested my sexual fantasy in mid-lust, so I said, “I am pride.”
That felt rather foolish, so I said, “I am awareness of pride.”
At this point, I laughed, and forgot to say, “I am laughter.”
In any case, this simple trick seems to be helping me not to yield to evil as much as I usually do.
As is often the case, there is an even deeper truth, I believe: I am ultimately not primarily what I think, or feel, or do. Rather, I am what and who God thinks I am. And I believe that God thinks of me as his deeply flawed, but also deeply loved and forgiven child of his. As helpful as I find this Buddhist koan, I find the doctrine of God’s love and Christ’s sacrificial death even more helpful.
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