Treasure

I have read a story about a man who was wandering though a field when he came across a treasure that was hidden. When he realized what he had found, he hid it again, sold all his worth, and bought the field so that he could enjoy the treasure for himself. To be honest, this story has always disturbed me. Didn't this treasure originally belong to someone else. Someone, who like himself had hidden the treasure originally? Isn't this in some way stealing? Or at least dishonest gain?

 To get caught in the moral dilemma is to miss the point I gather. After all, a treasure hidden in a field doesn't exactly speak of honest merit to begin with, but we can always assume the negative. The story is about the kingdom of heaven and how when one finds it, it should be seen a treasure worth everything we have. And when we find it, we should give up everything we have with Joy to have the greater treasure. 

Sounds good in theory. However, in truth many rarely find a "treasure" of such value. If that were the case, there'd be much less poverty. If the treasure had truly been found, the rate of violence would likely be much lower. A treasure of such value should lead people to stop living so selfishly. Instead of starving to be treasured by others, the find would compel them to treasure others. Friendships would be less expendable. Children would be more celebrated. Others would be encouraged to search. Who knows maybe we would find that we were more likely to help them search.

Chorus

“Sing it with your life, sing with your heart. Make melody with the words of your mouth. But, mind that you listen, tell it to others. Hear the chorus of faith. Live the chorus of faith.”  Michael Card, Chorus of Faith.

My faith is not my own.  I wish I could say that it was, but it is not.  I am not the procurer of faith. I do not fashion or shape it.  It is not my own vantage point that makes faith prosper or fester. Instead, there is something greater at play here.  

Each day I am reminded that I am I singing a song that has existed for centuries.  A song that I may add a line or two in reflection, but I am not its creator, nor will my voice carry a note longer than anyone else’s.  Instead, I am simply singing in unison.

It is true that Francis sang to the plants and spoke with the animals.  Still others can hear the cacophony of notes and expressions in the crashing of waves.  As the rain beats down on our fabricated landscapes and the song of the Malamute calls out to a world saturated in the songs of longing, I am reminded that no new arrangements exist in this concert.  Instead, I am both listening and performing with countless others whose song is celebrated by the  audience of One who loves to hear us.  

Singing must be a part of our lives.  Without song, we are destined only to know the arrangement, recognize the notes, even acquiesce to the the theory.  If in our hearts we cannot sing boldly balanced with humility we will confuse the greater role of our song.  The task in our lives is to be willing to accept that our task is not a task at all.   Instead, it is our voice that calls out to deep and it is the song of our hearts that allows us to join naturally in this chorus of faith.  

Thanks

Father, 

Today I am grateful for all that you have provided me with.  I look around and see the wonder of what you have made and realize how blessed I am to enjoy it.  I thank you for my children and the woman who I call their mother and my wife.  I am grateful for the home in which I live and the vehicles I am able to drive.  I thank you for food in my refrigerator and the clothes that cover my body.  I am thankful for the world you have so graciously provided.  I am grateful, but disinterested.

Daily I wake up to a world that is full of wonder and I follow the same paths I trod the day before.  It is easier to sit inside a coffee shop than it is to sit at my table at home.  Today there is no doubt I will listen to the same music, ponder the same tired theories of existence and diatribe with those to whom I am angry, but don’t have the wherewithal to confront.  Then it will come:

I will question my faith in you.  

I will wrestle with the seemingly inconsistent presentation of you in the Scriptures and the world in which I live.  I will think the thoughts of Dawkins who would write you off as mere magic or superstition so that a more simple answer can be sought.  I will wonder why so much violence and injustice occur in a world supposedly orchestrated and overseen by an all-powerful, merciful god. For a few moments, I will wrestle with what confuses me,  But I will come back to what I do understand. 

Trees give off oxygen that allow me to breathe.  The ground produces fruit and vegetation that will sustain me.  While not readily accessible to all, fresh water provides my body with much needed hydration. It is true that I cannot fix the world; however, I am not restricted in handling the issues of those around me.  More than that, I am able to pass on a legacy of hope and peace to my children who will one day - if they are not already - wrestle with both the angels and demons of their age.  For this I thank you.  

I love you so.

Soli Deo Gloria

Pilgrim

I can say that I have always liked to walk. I can remember from an early age enjoying taking a walk. Sometimes to relax, sometimes to reflect, always to be liberated. It isn't that I enjoy nature, as I rarely walk and listen for it. It isn't that I need the exercise, though the marks from my pants around my stomach would suggest otherwise. I have always walked because it is typically the only time that I have found my life to make any sense.

I accept that it is a form of escapism and in many ways that proves to be a concern for some. However, I will argue that escape is sometimes the only way to be safe in the grip of mystery. My life continues to be more and more controlled by various technologies. Calendars that show up on my phone, mail that comes through my laptop, text messages that show up on my iPad are all mediums that demand my attention at every turn. I am constantly bombarded with sounds that come from cars, TV, and other progressive forms of "Destiny" and yet my greatest aggravation- my dogs barking at night. In the end, I am typically bound to what I sense is progress only to find that nothing really seems to be going anywhere.

I wonder if the root of the problem is not the pace at which time and space seem to be constantly fixed. Rather, it is my incredulous spirit of believing that I can control it. I attempt to set schedules that reflect my intentions, I scold my kids when they won't go to sleep fast enough or when they spend the day running through the house screaming. It isn't until I stop long enough to see that like me they are simply pilgrims trekking from moment to moment through a life that is full of wonder and surprise at every turn. The only difference - I know by mental ascent and they know from personal experience.

Soli Deo Gloria

Wonder

"Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.". John 7:37-38 TNIV

Sometimes the invitation to come and drink is all that I hear. What I mean is this: often times I hear Jesus invite me to come and be refreshed, nourished, enthralled, etc., but I fail to hear that I am thirsty. There's not much to the invitation if I fail to acknowledge that I am thirsty. Instead of coming due to a need, I treat the drink the same way I hold a late night snack. I go because I know it's there. There is no real hunger or need; rather, I am just consuming for the sake of consuming.

If I am to be honest, I accept that for the most part I don't approach Jesus out of "thirst" as much as I approach Him out of habit. Habit is not altogether bad, but like so many other things when done as a result of unconscious ascent to the mountain of monotony it does lose its sense of wonder.

If granted opportunity, wonder can illicit thirst.

Wonder can lead us to the feet of Jesus who tells us that once we have come to the source of living water, water will flow from us into the world at large.

In other words, we become the presence of living water in the world of those who are thirsty. Rivers of living water will flow from us into their lives.

Soli Deo Gloria

afraid

It must be stated that to an extent I am afraid.
Afraid that life will flip on me and I will find that I have been wrong.
Afraid that my wife will stop talking with me.
Afraid that my children will see no need to have confidence in me as a father.
Afraid that the veil will be drawn and I will be revealed for the fraud I am.
Afraid that I have woke into an experience that is handcrafted by its own creator- me.

Fear is an interesting thing. It can make us try harder or give up altogether. When given reign, fear can completely destroy its carrier. However, when restrained it can do even greater damage. Somehow fear must be both released to do its job and given parameters so it doesn't do us in. I believe this can only happen when we see our lives as series of steps on a journey.

I am not really "going anywhere", but I cannot stay here. I am really just a vagabond in search of the sacred and a good cup of coffee- and sometimes they really are just the same. I have spent an inordinate amount of time attempting to be something fashioned after the idols of progress and "destiny" who simply amount to lovers less wild than the one who has won me through Love and Mercy.

I am afraid I have missed it somewhere along the way.
I am afraid that i have less time today than yesterday with no assurance of tomorrow.
I am afraid that my kids and my wife have played second fiddle to my fear far too long.
I am afraid that many will be offended.
I am even more afraid that many more will be lost if I don't overcome my fear.

Soli Deo Gloria