Editor's Note: This is an excerpted adaptation of an assignment submitted in reflection of J.R. Briggs' presentation "Church: Good, Bad and Ugly."
Healthy personal involvement within the Church leads to communal involvement in which a community of believers share life together in Jesus Christ. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer stated in Life Together, "Christian brotherhood is not an ideal that we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate."
Healthy personal involvement in the Church results in communal participation in the reality of living in, with, through, and for Jesus Christ. Bonhoeffer adds, "...love of others is wholly dependent upon the truth in Christ." Nonparticipation in community is a sentiment of the inability to love; that is, not living in Christ. Healthy personal involvement in a church, therefore, leads to a life of selfless loving. "Community and church are really messy. Community is not the absence of conflict - it is the presence of Jesus when it [conflict] exists," Briggs notes.
Practically, healthy personal involvement in the church cultivates renewal and redemption through committed relationships rooted in Christ and demonstrated by means of acts of service, discipleship, and the integration of Biblical teaching and daily living.
The local congregation becomes vitally necessary for the fulfillment of a life within Christian community as believers unite for the present implementation of the kingdom. The Church "bears and represents Jesus, who is the hope of the world," as Briggs addressed, which demands our active engagement in fulfilling its mission.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
O Gracious Light
I delight in the beauty, the simplicity of sunsets. Ever since my days of youth at the lake house in Minnesota, I have celebrated the intricacies of nature's design in the setting of the sun, signaling an end of day, the beginning of night, the hope for tomorrow.
Seek him who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night; who calls for the waters of the sea and pours them out upon the surface of the earth: The Lord is his name. Amos 5:8
The salvific work of Christ has borne light out of the darkness of sinfulness so that man may dwell in His presence. And yet, in the darkness, in the midst of depravity, suffering, wandering, and doubt, the Lord has discipled.
The act of succumbing to sleep is among the most humble acts of surrender. And it is done daily. A loss of conscious control, a quieting of the mind, heart, and body. Yet, during nightfall, in this darkness, the soul awakens.
I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel; my heart teaches me, night after night. I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not fall. Psalm 16:7-8
I must daily be willing to sleep, to rest, in the Lord amidst the darkness. For if I shall fail to do so, my restless soul will struggle to survive as I am assailed on all sides. In fact, when I am plagued in darkness, I shall actively seek submission in His rest.
C.S. Lewis offers this: I answer that suffering is not good in itself. What is good in any painful experience is, for the sufferer, his submission to the will of God, and, for the spectators, the compassion aroused and the acts of mercy to which it leads. The Problem of Pain
And so, the setting of the sun, the darkness of tribulations, the bleakness of the unknown, shall not overcome me as I choose to rest, finding joy in submission with my pained, tired body. Shall I not remember that this too shall pass; that the holy, gracious light of the Lord will arise just as surely as the sun shall rise in the morn?
O gracious light,
pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!
Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O Giver of Life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.
The Book of Common Prayer of The Episcopal Church
Seek him who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night; who calls for the waters of the sea and pours them out upon the surface of the earth: The Lord is his name. Amos 5:8
The salvific work of Christ has borne light out of the darkness of sinfulness so that man may dwell in His presence. And yet, in the darkness, in the midst of depravity, suffering, wandering, and doubt, the Lord has discipled.
The act of succumbing to sleep is among the most humble acts of surrender. And it is done daily. A loss of conscious control, a quieting of the mind, heart, and body. Yet, during nightfall, in this darkness, the soul awakens.
I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel; my heart teaches me, night after night. I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not fall. Psalm 16:7-8
I must daily be willing to sleep, to rest, in the Lord amidst the darkness. For if I shall fail to do so, my restless soul will struggle to survive as I am assailed on all sides. In fact, when I am plagued in darkness, I shall actively seek submission in His rest.
C.S. Lewis offers this: I answer that suffering is not good in itself. What is good in any painful experience is, for the sufferer, his submission to the will of God, and, for the spectators, the compassion aroused and the acts of mercy to which it leads. The Problem of Pain
And so, the setting of the sun, the darkness of tribulations, the bleakness of the unknown, shall not overcome me as I choose to rest, finding joy in submission with my pained, tired body. Shall I not remember that this too shall pass; that the holy, gracious light of the Lord will arise just as surely as the sun shall rise in the morn?
O gracious light,
pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!
Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O Giver of Life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen.
The Book of Common Prayer of The Episcopal Church
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
A Life of Death
Growing up seems paradoxical. It is a thought that has plagued me for some time. A fuller knowledge of life leads to a fuller knowledge of death. Logically, to know light is to know darkness; to know fulfillment is to know hunger; to know joy is to know sorrow.
To know life is to know death. To live, is to die.
The psalmist writes, "yet for your sake we are killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered." The apostle Paul proclaims, "I die every day."
This is not unique to my circumstances; as we live more, we experience more death, physically and spiritually.
Christian community is built upon death. Death to selfishness and isolationism. Death to sinfulness and control. As we share life in community, we also share death. Gracefully though, our joy is not rooted in death, but in life through death. "Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him."
As we live more fully in Christian community, we experience more death. As we age, we are more keenly aware of physical death through the deaths of friends and acquaintances. But greater still, we daily direct our eyes toward graceful salvation from what is broken, sinful, and burdened - dying to ourselves - that we may gain Christ and the life that He brings.
And this brings me great joy for to share life together is to share death together, which shall bring life.
To know life is to know death. To live, is to die.
The psalmist writes, "yet for your sake we are killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered." The apostle Paul proclaims, "I die every day."
This is not unique to my circumstances; as we live more, we experience more death, physically and spiritually.
Christian community is built upon death. Death to selfishness and isolationism. Death to sinfulness and control. As we share life in community, we also share death. Gracefully though, our joy is not rooted in death, but in life through death. "Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him."
As we live more fully in Christian community, we experience more death. As we age, we are more keenly aware of physical death through the deaths of friends and acquaintances. But greater still, we daily direct our eyes toward graceful salvation from what is broken, sinful, and burdened - dying to ourselves - that we may gain Christ and the life that He brings.
And this brings me great joy for to share life together is to share death together, which shall bring life.
Friday, October 5, 2012
(Vulnerable) Social Media
No explanation is necessary regarding the definition and prevalence of, or dependability on social media. Twitter, Facebook, Blogger, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest, MySpace, Google + all have a place for use and may even be a mechanism for good.
My qualm is not with social media, although thorough discussion regarding reliance is valuable, but those who use it. Actually, I am fearful of Christians who use social media. Indeed, I fear myself even now.
For some reason, social media engenders a willingness to portray thoughts, ideas, emotions, sarcasm, and beliefs, whether well-established or not, that one is not necessarily willing to express through non-social media means. In other words, transparency in 'real-life' and transparency through social media are not aligned.
As one who greatly values discipleship and community, this is deeply troubling. I learn far too much about my friends, mostly acquaintances if I am honest, through social media: the annoying details of what they ate for dinner, where they are on vacation, and what they do every hour of the day. For some reason we like to share that information. This information does not concern me as much as the fact that I learn political affiliations, theological convictions and beliefs, dreams, emotions, painful realities, heartbreak and joy via a tweet, status update, picture update. I learn these pieces of information on a computer screen.
I rarely so willingly and vulnerably hear these statements in 'real-life.'
This came to my attention on Wednesday night during the television presidential candidate debate. In the hours that followed the event, it was difficult to discern between status updates of disciples and those who are not a part of the Body
Many people within the Body use social media as a means of expressing opinions, particularly political, via social media. However, is it possible to have honest, loving, dialoging conversations through social media as you embody Christ? If the words we choose to type are not the same words we are willing to speak, we fail those we live with and those we minister to every day.
If social media is the means through which we convey what we are not willing to share in community, then we should fear the repercussions of status updates that may deter those from knowing the Risen Lord, for indeed if such conversations are not within the Body, how much less they are among those who seek.
Perhaps Christian use of social media would make more sense if such conversations were prevalently conveyed authentically, vulnerably, intentionally, and lovingly in 'real-life.' I am not willing to permanently make a statement via social media that I am not willing to address with my Family of disciples who are the hands and feet of the holy, just, loving Lord. By God's grace, I have thus far adhered to this conviction.
Vulnerable community can extend through the use of social media, but surely when we are gathered together, living together, sharing life together, the sharing of our ideas finds greater meaning.
My qualm is not with social media, although thorough discussion regarding reliance is valuable, but those who use it. Actually, I am fearful of Christians who use social media. Indeed, I fear myself even now.
For some reason, social media engenders a willingness to portray thoughts, ideas, emotions, sarcasm, and beliefs, whether well-established or not, that one is not necessarily willing to express through non-social media means. In other words, transparency in 'real-life' and transparency through social media are not aligned.
As one who greatly values discipleship and community, this is deeply troubling. I learn far too much about my friends, mostly acquaintances if I am honest, through social media: the annoying details of what they ate for dinner, where they are on vacation, and what they do every hour of the day. For some reason we like to share that information. This information does not concern me as much as the fact that I learn political affiliations, theological convictions and beliefs, dreams, emotions, painful realities, heartbreak and joy via a tweet, status update, picture update. I learn these pieces of information on a computer screen.
I rarely so willingly and vulnerably hear these statements in 'real-life.'
This came to my attention on Wednesday night during the television presidential candidate debate. In the hours that followed the event, it was difficult to discern between status updates of disciples and those who are not a part of the Body
Many people within the Body use social media as a means of expressing opinions, particularly political, via social media. However, is it possible to have honest, loving, dialoging conversations through social media as you embody Christ? If the words we choose to type are not the same words we are willing to speak, we fail those we live with and those we minister to every day.
If social media is the means through which we convey what we are not willing to share in community, then we should fear the repercussions of status updates that may deter those from knowing the Risen Lord, for indeed if such conversations are not within the Body, how much less they are among those who seek.
Perhaps Christian use of social media would make more sense if such conversations were prevalently conveyed authentically, vulnerably, intentionally, and lovingly in 'real-life.' I am not willing to permanently make a statement via social media that I am not willing to address with my Family of disciples who are the hands and feet of the holy, just, loving Lord. By God's grace, I have thus far adhered to this conviction.
Vulnerable community can extend through the use of social media, but surely when we are gathered together, living together, sharing life together, the sharing of our ideas finds greater meaning.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
A Burden of Brokenness
For fifty minutes three days a week, I sit among a body of over two thousand people. Broken people.
That's our state, our predicament: brokenness. Sin has permeated our being, our thoughts, our actions, and our very existence. Brokenness has many faces. But we have adapted to conceal its presence.
Walk into a room of people and you may not notice brokenness is lurking in the shadows. Earlier this week, three testimonies were shared in chapel; three stories of brokenness: death, failure, insecurity. I was overcome by the brokenness I knew to be concealed behind masks of security and invulnerability among two thousand people who shared similarly unique stories of brokenness.
The weight of the burden of two thousand broken people seems too much to bear at times. Indeed it is too much. Tears crept down my face for quite some time as I contemplated the weight of brokenness in community.
Despite the presence of brokenness, when accepted as reality, it is purposed for mending. It is in the acceptance of brokenness that restoration is possible. So it is with the believer, whose brokenness finds healing by His grace.
The stories of a community expound the burden of brokenness and magnify the significance and power of healing grace, mercy and love.
That's our state, our predicament: brokenness. Sin has permeated our being, our thoughts, our actions, and our very existence. Brokenness has many faces. But we have adapted to conceal its presence.
Walk into a room of people and you may not notice brokenness is lurking in the shadows. Earlier this week, three testimonies were shared in chapel; three stories of brokenness: death, failure, insecurity. I was overcome by the brokenness I knew to be concealed behind masks of security and invulnerability among two thousand people who shared similarly unique stories of brokenness.
The weight of the burden of two thousand broken people seems too much to bear at times. Indeed it is too much. Tears crept down my face for quite some time as I contemplated the weight of brokenness in community.
Despite the presence of brokenness, when accepted as reality, it is purposed for mending. It is in the acceptance of brokenness that restoration is possible. So it is with the believer, whose brokenness finds healing by His grace.
The stories of a community expound the burden of brokenness and magnify the significance and power of healing grace, mercy and love.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
A Story
Stories shape languages, cultures, histories, and evade time. They have meaning, context, lessons, and some contain truth. Love, war, struggle and redemption permeate the stories that are passed on from one to another.
Through the course of living in Christian community, it has become fairly evident how important stories are to the propagation of truth. Scripturally speaking, the Bible not only contains stories but gives us a glimpse of the story - the story that shapes the past, present and future. Relationally, stories open doors, seed compassion, and develop community.
My story is but a miniscule part of that story.
A friend of mine recently told me about a snippet of his story. He said he feared that if he shared this part of his story with others in our community he would be defined by, remembered for, and perhaps judged accordingly based on a singular portion of his story. This, I said, is detrimental to authentic community.
If we choose to leave out, repress, or avoid a portion of a story, the whole meaning of the story cannot be known, the larger context is jeopardized, and it seems selfish. Consciously neglecting part of a story gives more authority than is due to actions, behaviors, words, and thoughts. It is only in the context of the story that these parts find healing redemption.
Vulnerability is not an easy task and should not be taken lightly. Our stories need not be published in memoirs, pronounced via public confession, or flippantly conversed. But in authentic community, our stories must be shared. Bits and pieces at a time, but never consciously abandoned.
This week, I told my friend that it is not the things within our stories that define us. Perhaps they shall at times earthly and societally. But it is not the story in and of itself that defines us. What defines us is the purpose of our stories, part of the story: ultimately to glorify the One from whom the story has come.
I oftentimes neglect authenticity, honesty and vulnerability with myself, let alone others. Sometimes I do not want myself to know my story. It seems easier that way. And then there are times like this week when I realize that it is vital, necessary, and prudent that I live in community with myself, my Lord, and those whom I live with so that I may holistically become a part of the story.
Through the course of living in Christian community, it has become fairly evident how important stories are to the propagation of truth. Scripturally speaking, the Bible not only contains stories but gives us a glimpse of the story - the story that shapes the past, present and future. Relationally, stories open doors, seed compassion, and develop community.
My story is but a miniscule part of that story.
A friend of mine recently told me about a snippet of his story. He said he feared that if he shared this part of his story with others in our community he would be defined by, remembered for, and perhaps judged accordingly based on a singular portion of his story. This, I said, is detrimental to authentic community.
If we choose to leave out, repress, or avoid a portion of a story, the whole meaning of the story cannot be known, the larger context is jeopardized, and it seems selfish. Consciously neglecting part of a story gives more authority than is due to actions, behaviors, words, and thoughts. It is only in the context of the story that these parts find healing redemption.
Vulnerability is not an easy task and should not be taken lightly. Our stories need not be published in memoirs, pronounced via public confession, or flippantly conversed. But in authentic community, our stories must be shared. Bits and pieces at a time, but never consciously abandoned.
This week, I told my friend that it is not the things within our stories that define us. Perhaps they shall at times earthly and societally. But it is not the story in and of itself that defines us. What defines us is the purpose of our stories, part of the story: ultimately to glorify the One from whom the story has come.
I oftentimes neglect authenticity, honesty and vulnerability with myself, let alone others. Sometimes I do not want myself to know my story. It seems easier that way. And then there are times like this week when I realize that it is vital, necessary, and prudent that I live in community with myself, my Lord, and those whom I live with so that I may holistically become a part of the story.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Prideful Humility
I must admit I aspire to greatness - to be someone, to accomplish feats that are praised, to change lives. Perhaps this last greatness is most supreme in my mind. I want to be remembered, to be known, for positively impacting lives. Praise be that I know of this to be a profound weakness - for that is what it is - a hindrance of my ability to worship not myself but my Lord. Indeed it is said I shall lose more and more of myself in order that I might gain the Lord, and so it is, that although I aspire for greatness, I want nothing if not to make Him greater and me lesser. I fear this temptation will always haunt me. Oh may I never be in that place for I fear I would serve myself and not my Master.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
A Reckless Love: A Legacy
Editor's Note: This is the seventh of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."
From time to time, I begin to contemplate what I have done within this realm that I may be remembered when my existence in this place ceases. Personal, professional, academic, or relational aspirations lead me to create that of which I want to be known.
Assuredly, I want to be known by what I was able to do for Christ that changed a life, inspired belief, or challenged disillusioned thinking. It's a trap of accomplishment and task oriented adoration and self-worth. Ultimately, this philosophy creates meaning and purpose through what I do for the Lord; finding significance through and in myself.
What is worse is that I know that this is inherently contrary to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Indeed it is by grace through faith and not the result of works for surely such a salvation would lead to boasting. And yet, these very tasks can be inherently good - altogether beneficial for the teaching, edification, and exhortation of the Body.
It is quite unfortunate that our task-oriented and personal accomplishment driven society publishes and demands accolades for good deeds - and the Church is no exception. However, this misfortune has clearly resulted in the realization that this inadequacy exists. For this I am grateful.
I could be known by what I do for the Lord, those I love, or society as a whole. Or I could be known by the Lord how I live with Him. The latter must become a reality.
For much of the past three months, I have cherished the thoughts of what Josh was able to accomplish during his far too short ministering life. It is with joy, however, that I abandon all of these thoughts for the knowledge and reality that Josh Larkin was and is known by and lives with the Lord, which far surpasses all that he was able to do for the Kingdom. This is remarkable considering all that he was and has been able to do.
There is no legacy adequate enough; there is only the remembrance to be known by and to live with the Lord . A legacy of nothing but Christ, of Him crucified and resurrected, is demanded for His sake and glory.
Legacy has been a reoccurring thought in my mind for two years since the death of my dear friend Janet and the more recent death of Josh. Skye Jethani's "With: Reimagining the Way You Relate to God" helped me to finally actualize my thoughts of this eternal concept.
From time to time, I begin to contemplate what I have done within this realm that I may be remembered when my existence in this place ceases. Personal, professional, academic, or relational aspirations lead me to create that of which I want to be known.
Assuredly, I want to be known by what I was able to do for Christ that changed a life, inspired belief, or challenged disillusioned thinking. It's a trap of accomplishment and task oriented adoration and self-worth. Ultimately, this philosophy creates meaning and purpose through what I do for the Lord; finding significance through and in myself.
What is worse is that I know that this is inherently contrary to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Indeed it is by grace through faith and not the result of works for surely such a salvation would lead to boasting. And yet, these very tasks can be inherently good - altogether beneficial for the teaching, edification, and exhortation of the Body.
It is quite unfortunate that our task-oriented and personal accomplishment driven society publishes and demands accolades for good deeds - and the Church is no exception. However, this misfortune has clearly resulted in the realization that this inadequacy exists. For this I am grateful.
I could be known by what I do for the Lord, those I love, or society as a whole. Or I could be known by the Lord how I live with Him. The latter must become a reality.
For much of the past three months, I have cherished the thoughts of what Josh was able to accomplish during his far too short ministering life. It is with joy, however, that I abandon all of these thoughts for the knowledge and reality that Josh Larkin was and is known by and lives with the Lord, which far surpasses all that he was able to do for the Kingdom. This is remarkable considering all that he was and has been able to do.
There is no legacy adequate enough; there is only the remembrance to be known by and to live with the Lord . A legacy of nothing but Christ, of Him crucified and resurrected, is demanded for His sake and glory.
Legacy has been a reoccurring thought in my mind for two years since the death of my dear friend Janet and the more recent death of Josh. Skye Jethani's "With: Reimagining the Way You Relate to God" helped me to finally actualize my thoughts of this eternal concept.
Monday, June 18, 2012
A Reckless Love: Seven Months
Editor's Note: This is the sixth of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."
Josh quickly became an intentional, meaningful, challenging, and caring friend. We only really knew each other for seven months. A miniscule amount of time in eternity.
From day one of those seven months though, we both were intentional to share life together. One night this winter before going to bed, I left a note on Josh's desk. I remember searching for a scrap piece of paper to leave a few words of encouragement.
He may have intentionally sought meaningful relationships, but he rarely purposefully organized his desk. Sometimes the means do not matter. I found a receipt; it was sufficient.
I do not recall my exact words, but the message written on the back of a nasty Taco Bell receipt was along the lines: "what you did today matters - and He is proud of you - and I am so honored to be a part of what He is doing in your life - praying for you tonight."
Seven months. Certainly a short time. But a time that matters.
It reminds me of Jesus' incarnated time of ministry. Sometimes I think I imagine Jesus came out of the womb and began preaching. Historically, of course, we know that not to be true. His time of ministry was maybe a few years. A relatively short time in eternity.
Jesus commanded us to love as He loved us. An indisputably intentional, eternally existing love. Whether I knew Josh Larkin for seven months, seven years, or seven decades, he changed my life because he recognized that love requires intentionality.
Since April 4, I have been more intentional with the men of Sammy II and those I love. If it was not for those seven months with Josh, I do not know if I could thoughtfully love others amidst his death and that of two additional students within the past seven months.
Seven months may be miniscule in the scheme of eternity, but it is all the time the Lord needed to impress a profound example of reckless love in my life.
Josh quickly became an intentional, meaningful, challenging, and caring friend. We only really knew each other for seven months. A miniscule amount of time in eternity.
From day one of those seven months though, we both were intentional to share life together. One night this winter before going to bed, I left a note on Josh's desk. I remember searching for a scrap piece of paper to leave a few words of encouragement.
He may have intentionally sought meaningful relationships, but he rarely purposefully organized his desk. Sometimes the means do not matter. I found a receipt; it was sufficient.
I do not recall my exact words, but the message written on the back of a nasty Taco Bell receipt was along the lines: "what you did today matters - and He is proud of you - and I am so honored to be a part of what He is doing in your life - praying for you tonight."
Seven months. Certainly a short time. But a time that matters.
It reminds me of Jesus' incarnated time of ministry. Sometimes I think I imagine Jesus came out of the womb and began preaching. Historically, of course, we know that not to be true. His time of ministry was maybe a few years. A relatively short time in eternity.
Jesus commanded us to love as He loved us. An indisputably intentional, eternally existing love. Whether I knew Josh Larkin for seven months, seven years, or seven decades, he changed my life because he recognized that love requires intentionality.
Since April 4, I have been more intentional with the men of Sammy II and those I love. If it was not for those seven months with Josh, I do not know if I could thoughtfully love others amidst his death and that of two additional students within the past seven months.
Seven months may be miniscule in the scheme of eternity, but it is all the time the Lord needed to impress a profound example of reckless love in my life.
Monday, June 4, 2012
A Reckless Love: Righteous Anger
Editor's Note: This is the fifth of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."
I am rarely legitimately angry. I think I have been conditioned to be this way. Molded to believe that anger is inappropriate, unnecessary, and maybe even sinful.
It is hard to conjure memories of Josh when he was angry. With only eight months of a close, intimate friendship, there are only a few moments I remember him angry. Usually, his anger was due to some social injustice or maltreatment of someone he knew.
As I have grieved the death of my dear friend for two months to the day, there have been several moments that I have been quite angry. Angry at Josh for his senselessness that has resulted in immense pain for those he and I love. Angry with people for moments of insensitivity and disrespect. Angry at the Lord for permitting Josh's death in such a manner, in such a place. Angry for the pain of the men with whom I have shared many tears. Angry at myself for not and perhaps being unable to do anything, to help anyone, to worship amidst suffering.
Unfortunately, the list continues.
From what I know of the Lord, He too is angry; at the presence of sin, with faithlessness, on behalf of others, and on and on. He is angry because He loves us.
I would not be angry had I not deeply loved Josh Larkin.
For some time, I believed my anger to be unnecessary and maybe sinful. Has not the Lord promised victory? Have I not experienced His works? What shall I therefore be angry about in His presence? It is true that the Lord has promised and accomplished victory. It is also true that I am angry. I shall not dismiss one truth with another.
A very real danger exists that anger may lead to sinfulness, yet I pray that my anger continues to lead me to broken humility, that I may be molded and shaped by the righteous anger of the Lord leading to love.
I know now why Josh was angry amidst the presence of social injustices, hurtful gossip, intimidation, and persecution of others through words or deed. He was angry because he recklessly loved.
I am rarely legitimately angry. I think I have been conditioned to be this way. Molded to believe that anger is inappropriate, unnecessary, and maybe even sinful.
It is hard to conjure memories of Josh when he was angry. With only eight months of a close, intimate friendship, there are only a few moments I remember him angry. Usually, his anger was due to some social injustice or maltreatment of someone he knew.
As I have grieved the death of my dear friend for two months to the day, there have been several moments that I have been quite angry. Angry at Josh for his senselessness that has resulted in immense pain for those he and I love. Angry with people for moments of insensitivity and disrespect. Angry at the Lord for permitting Josh's death in such a manner, in such a place. Angry for the pain of the men with whom I have shared many tears. Angry at myself for not and perhaps being unable to do anything, to help anyone, to worship amidst suffering.
Unfortunately, the list continues.
From what I know of the Lord, He too is angry; at the presence of sin, with faithlessness, on behalf of others, and on and on. He is angry because He loves us.
I would not be angry had I not deeply loved Josh Larkin.
For some time, I believed my anger to be unnecessary and maybe sinful. Has not the Lord promised victory? Have I not experienced His works? What shall I therefore be angry about in His presence? It is true that the Lord has promised and accomplished victory. It is also true that I am angry. I shall not dismiss one truth with another.
A very real danger exists that anger may lead to sinfulness, yet I pray that my anger continues to lead me to broken humility, that I may be molded and shaped by the righteous anger of the Lord leading to love.
I know now why Josh was angry amidst the presence of social injustices, hurtful gossip, intimidation, and persecution of others through words or deed. He was angry because he recklessly loved.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
A Reckless Love: Tough Questions
Editor's Note: This is the fourth of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."
Josh asked tough questions. I remember him asking me why I cared so much about academic achievement. He pressed me until the conversation ended in a confession of idolatry.
Undoubtedly, Josh possessed a desire to learn. To learn from the wise, about others, and the joys and simplicities of life. But learning was not an end. Rather, learning was the means by which he would be better equipped to practically live a faithful life of worship, ministry, and service to the Lord.
And there has been much learning in the past seven weeks despite questions left unanswered.
The Lord commissioned the prophet Isaiah to comfort the people of Jerusalem. Much like Job, Isaiah responds to God that the mortal suffering and warfare of life is overwhelmingly in demand of answers.
Tough question: "why God?"
If this question is not asked in good faith, I question the sincerity of humility. Nonetheless, the Lord's answer is to the question, "where?": tell the people, "Behold your God" (Isaiah 40:9).
Since the day that Josh died, many of my questions have been "why". I have chosen to acknowledge and struggle with these questions repeatedly, but I have been reminded that I must cherish and savor the Lord's faithful presence. Ultimately, His meeting with me and others in remarkable ways during the past seven weeks seems to dismiss the power of my questions. He has met me, here, in my humble brokenness and that alone appears to suffice for the inadequacies my questions propose.
Josh Larkin challenged me to live recklessly entrenched in authenticity. And sometimes that means asking tough questions. Tough questions of myself, the men I live with, my beloved friends and peers, and my Lord.
And not tough questions for the sake of questioning. But questions with answers, and other times left unanswered, that lead to the Cross, to a changed life.
Josh asked tough questions. I remember him asking me why I cared so much about academic achievement. He pressed me until the conversation ended in a confession of idolatry.
Undoubtedly, Josh possessed a desire to learn. To learn from the wise, about others, and the joys and simplicities of life. But learning was not an end. Rather, learning was the means by which he would be better equipped to practically live a faithful life of worship, ministry, and service to the Lord.
And there has been much learning in the past seven weeks despite questions left unanswered.
The Lord commissioned the prophet Isaiah to comfort the people of Jerusalem. Much like Job, Isaiah responds to God that the mortal suffering and warfare of life is overwhelmingly in demand of answers.
Tough question: "why God?"
If this question is not asked in good faith, I question the sincerity of humility. Nonetheless, the Lord's answer is to the question, "where?": tell the people, "Behold your God" (Isaiah 40:9).
Since the day that Josh died, many of my questions have been "why". I have chosen to acknowledge and struggle with these questions repeatedly, but I have been reminded that I must cherish and savor the Lord's faithful presence. Ultimately, His meeting with me and others in remarkable ways during the past seven weeks seems to dismiss the power of my questions. He has met me, here, in my humble brokenness and that alone appears to suffice for the inadequacies my questions propose.
Josh Larkin challenged me to live recklessly entrenched in authenticity. And sometimes that means asking tough questions. Tough questions of myself, the men I live with, my beloved friends and peers, and my Lord.
And not tough questions for the sake of questioning. But questions with answers, and other times left unanswered, that lead to the Cross, to a changed life.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
A Reckless Love: Song and Dance
Editor's Note: This is the third of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."
A friend recently told me that he first heard the song You're Beautiful (Phil Wickham) when Josh led campus worship and it seems fitting to contemplate these lyrics.
"I see Your face in every sunrise, the colors of the morning are inside Your eyes, the World awakens in the light of the day, I look up to the sky and say, 'You're beautiful.'"
When you live in close proximity to seventy guys, you learn gaits and sounds associated with one's passing by. Josh made this "passerby identity" guessing game fairly easy when he sang down the hallway or strummed the guitar. Many times, Josh worshipped through song. In the jazz ensemble, he lifted the trumpet and rarely dampened its force.
And of course an aptitude for dance cannot go unnoticed. Josh was the catalyst of worshipful dance, which so famously resulted in the Sammy II Interlude during Airband 2011.
Then there is his laugh. A category all its own of his worshipful, praising demeanor.
"I see Your power in the moonlit night, where planets are in motion and galaxies are bright, we are amazed in the light of the stars, it's all proclaiming who You are, 'You're beautiful.'"
Much like the naturally created order, Josh lived his life leading those he influenced to see the beauty of God. His outdoor endeavors certainly attested to his appreciation for the created world. But greater still, he had the ability to reveal God's beauty through his very being, his smile, his laughter, and certainly his worship.
I once told Josh that I appreciated when he led campus worship because he was authentic. His reply was along the lines: "that's what we're made to do, worship."
"I see you there hanging on a tree, You bled and then You died and then You rose again for me, now You are sitting on Your heavenly throne, soon we will be coming home, 'You're beautiful.'"
Certainly the incarnation of God enabled Him to recklessly sacrifice Himself so that we may be welcomed, by faith and volition, as His own through His resurrection. I believe this is who Josh so faithfully worshipped and goaded others to join him.
"When we arrive at eternity's shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we'll sing, 'You're beautiful.'"
On April 4, 2012, Josh Larkin finally fully experienced the reckless love of the Lord as He came to meet him in deliverance and redemption. Undoubtedly, at that moment, Josh was able to say, 'You're beautiful.'
A friend recently told me that he first heard the song You're Beautiful (Phil Wickham) when Josh led campus worship and it seems fitting to contemplate these lyrics.
"I see Your face in every sunrise, the colors of the morning are inside Your eyes, the World awakens in the light of the day, I look up to the sky and say, 'You're beautiful.'"
When you live in close proximity to seventy guys, you learn gaits and sounds associated with one's passing by. Josh made this "passerby identity" guessing game fairly easy when he sang down the hallway or strummed the guitar. Many times, Josh worshipped through song. In the jazz ensemble, he lifted the trumpet and rarely dampened its force.
And of course an aptitude for dance cannot go unnoticed. Josh was the catalyst of worshipful dance, which so famously resulted in the Sammy II Interlude during Airband 2011.
Then there is his laugh. A category all its own of his worshipful, praising demeanor.
"I see Your power in the moonlit night, where planets are in motion and galaxies are bright, we are amazed in the light of the stars, it's all proclaiming who You are, 'You're beautiful.'"
Much like the naturally created order, Josh lived his life leading those he influenced to see the beauty of God. His outdoor endeavors certainly attested to his appreciation for the created world. But greater still, he had the ability to reveal God's beauty through his very being, his smile, his laughter, and certainly his worship.
I once told Josh that I appreciated when he led campus worship because he was authentic. His reply was along the lines: "that's what we're made to do, worship."
"I see you there hanging on a tree, You bled and then You died and then You rose again for me, now You are sitting on Your heavenly throne, soon we will be coming home, 'You're beautiful.'"
Certainly the incarnation of God enabled Him to recklessly sacrifice Himself so that we may be welcomed, by faith and volition, as His own through His resurrection. I believe this is who Josh so faithfully worshipped and goaded others to join him.
"When we arrive at eternity's shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we'll sing, 'You're beautiful.'"
On April 4, 2012, Josh Larkin finally fully experienced the reckless love of the Lord as He came to meet him in deliverance and redemption. Undoubtedly, at that moment, Josh was able to say, 'You're beautiful.'
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
A Reckless Love: Abandoned Social Norms
Editor's Note: This is the second piece of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."
"You're an old man," Josh would say.
Naturally a morning person, I strive to be in bed by 10:30p.m. each night during the week. This seemed absurd to Josh.
From time to time, much past 10:30p.m., he would come in my room and either lounge on the futon or invite himself to wake me up and lie in my bed. It did not matter that I may have already been asleep for an hour or two. What mattered to Josh was that we would be able to share life together.
Sometimes he would just tell me about his day, a thought on his mind, or challenge me to wake up and experience something that could apparently only occur past 10:30p.m. He was willing to lay aside the social norm of sleep for the sake of intentionally demonstrating love.
In the days since Josh's death, I still anticipate each night that he may walk in the room one more time. If I could only be roused once again and stumble out of bed to cherish a few moments with him now.
It is as if every time Josh woke me up he was reminding me: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." A call to "walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us."
Josh Larkin continually loved by recklessly abandoning social norms. He had hipster hair, endangered his life with extreme sports, awoke the sleeping, and spoke nearly unsettling words of truth. I believe Josh chose to exemplify Christ.
From what I know of the Lord, He lived a life contrary what was accepted by society: demanding his disciples 'be last,' loving the outcasts, and challenging the religiously righteous.
Six weeks ago, we had a conversation about his internship plans this summer and how he needed to balance the rest of the semester's school requirements. "You're teaching me to be more disciplined," he told me. And be that as it may have been, Josh's reckless love is teaching me to abandon social norms to uncomfortably love.
It has been a stumbling, terribly, painful wonderful month since he left us. And yet, for countless nights well past 10:30p.m. with studying left unfinished, I have recklessly shared tears, stories, challenging and convicting words, and worship with the men I call my friends, my brothers.
"You're an old man," Josh would say.
Naturally a morning person, I strive to be in bed by 10:30p.m. each night during the week. This seemed absurd to Josh.
From time to time, much past 10:30p.m., he would come in my room and either lounge on the futon or invite himself to wake me up and lie in my bed. It did not matter that I may have already been asleep for an hour or two. What mattered to Josh was that we would be able to share life together.
Sometimes he would just tell me about his day, a thought on his mind, or challenge me to wake up and experience something that could apparently only occur past 10:30p.m. He was willing to lay aside the social norm of sleep for the sake of intentionally demonstrating love.
In the days since Josh's death, I still anticipate each night that he may walk in the room one more time. If I could only be roused once again and stumble out of bed to cherish a few moments with him now.
It is as if every time Josh woke me up he was reminding me: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." A call to "walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us."
Josh Larkin continually loved by recklessly abandoning social norms. He had hipster hair, endangered his life with extreme sports, awoke the sleeping, and spoke nearly unsettling words of truth. I believe Josh chose to exemplify Christ.
From what I know of the Lord, He lived a life contrary what was accepted by society: demanding his disciples 'be last,' loving the outcasts, and challenging the religiously righteous.
Six weeks ago, we had a conversation about his internship plans this summer and how he needed to balance the rest of the semester's school requirements. "You're teaching me to be more disciplined," he told me. And be that as it may have been, Josh's reckless love is teaching me to abandon social norms to uncomfortably love.
It has been a stumbling, terribly, painful wonderful month since he left us. And yet, for countless nights well past 10:30p.m. with studying left unfinished, I have recklessly shared tears, stories, challenging and convicting words, and worship with the men I call my friends, my brothers.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
A Reckless Love: Room 234
Editor's Note: This is the first of a reflective series entitled "A Reckless Love."
Thirty days ago, I said goodnight to my floormate Josh as I stumbled somewhat incoherently from the restroom back to my humble abode in Samuel Morris Hall.
The next day, I went about business as usual. I awoke before 7a.m., was at work by 8a.m., went to chapel at 10a.m., and class at 11a.m. I packed up my belongings to head home for Easter and as I stumbled with my bags down the hall, I made it only a few feet before stopping at room 234.
Room 234: Josh's room. My room. It's been thirty days of stumbling.
I wanted to say goodbye. At least leave a note if he was not there. The door was locked. Strange though it be, I did not stop to ponder. I picked up my bags and headed home.
Five hours later, I received a phone call from a colleague informing me that Josh had died in room 234. Shock, disbelief, anger, sadness. I could not and at times cannot yet distinguish my emotions.
The details no longer seem relevant. My friend is gone. Yet I have been blessed to continue to experience his reckless love during the past thirty days.
A year ago, my roommate and I decided to change residence halls because we knew one person on the floor: Josh. We decided to live across the hall from him and quickly began to establish a meaningful friendship and brotherhood. Now, we reside in his room.
My roommate and I moved into Josh's room a week after his death. The room has become a place of joy. The Spirit of the Lord has blessed the fellowship, laughter, tears, and anxiety my floormates have shared together in the place where we all remember Josh's smile, singing, hair, love, and worship to God.
Many days, I am still stumbling. I read, study, and try to sleep in the place of so many memories and unfortunately one of a tragic demise. Josh would be jealous of all the wonderful conversations held in this place during the past thirty days: late night words of encouragement, tears, hugs, very little studying (in his true nature), plenty of comfort food eating, and especially prayers.
Right before I went to bed the first night living in room 234, a friend reminded me of this promise: "The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing." - Zephaniah 3:17
Come on a stumbling journey with me. Let me share with you the reckless love of my Lord as lived by friend Josh Larkin. Together, we will see that the Lord has been in this place.
Thirty days ago, I said goodnight to my floormate Josh as I stumbled somewhat incoherently from the restroom back to my humble abode in Samuel Morris Hall.
The next day, I went about business as usual. I awoke before 7a.m., was at work by 8a.m., went to chapel at 10a.m., and class at 11a.m. I packed up my belongings to head home for Easter and as I stumbled with my bags down the hall, I made it only a few feet before stopping at room 234.
Room 234: Josh's room. My room. It's been thirty days of stumbling.
I wanted to say goodbye. At least leave a note if he was not there. The door was locked. Strange though it be, I did not stop to ponder. I picked up my bags and headed home.
Five hours later, I received a phone call from a colleague informing me that Josh had died in room 234. Shock, disbelief, anger, sadness. I could not and at times cannot yet distinguish my emotions.
The details no longer seem relevant. My friend is gone. Yet I have been blessed to continue to experience his reckless love during the past thirty days.
A year ago, my roommate and I decided to change residence halls because we knew one person on the floor: Josh. We decided to live across the hall from him and quickly began to establish a meaningful friendship and brotherhood. Now, we reside in his room.
My roommate and I moved into Josh's room a week after his death. The room has become a place of joy. The Spirit of the Lord has blessed the fellowship, laughter, tears, and anxiety my floormates have shared together in the place where we all remember Josh's smile, singing, hair, love, and worship to God.
Many days, I am still stumbling. I read, study, and try to sleep in the place of so many memories and unfortunately one of a tragic demise. Josh would be jealous of all the wonderful conversations held in this place during the past thirty days: late night words of encouragement, tears, hugs, very little studying (in his true nature), plenty of comfort food eating, and especially prayers.
Right before I went to bed the first night living in room 234, a friend reminded me of this promise: "The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing." - Zephaniah 3:17
Come on a stumbling journey with me. Let me share with you the reckless love of my Lord as lived by friend Josh Larkin. Together, we will see that the Lord has been in this place.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Mountains and Kisses
My days of reflection and contemplation have been few and far between for almost eighteen months now, which is quite unfortunate since I so value introspection. This pattern was dramatically altered during the past week.
A week in the Appalachian Mountains, specifically the Blue Ridge, was an ideal environment for thought development. Almost 4,700 feet above sea level, looking over the valley that is Boone, North Carolina, I spent a week with my best friend before his wedding. Our time spent together was nothing short of a blessed miracle amidst living with his and his bride's family and nearly frantic wedding planning. I have been refreshed by God's faithfulness to equip us to love and care for one another and to personally experience the bonds of meaningful relationships. The wonderful celebration of Taylor and Graci's love for one another was exacerbated by our mutual deep commitments to one another and their families. What a blessing to share in a demonstration in God's loving commitment to us!
A week in the Appalachian Mountains, specifically the Blue Ridge, was an ideal environment for thought development. Almost 4,700 feet above sea level, looking over the valley that is Boone, North Carolina, I spent a week with my best friend before his wedding. Our time spent together was nothing short of a blessed miracle amidst living with his and his bride's family and nearly frantic wedding planning. I have been refreshed by God's faithfulness to equip us to love and care for one another and to personally experience the bonds of meaningful relationships. The wonderful celebration of Taylor and Graci's love for one another was exacerbated by our mutual deep commitments to one another and their families. What a blessing to share in a demonstration in God's loving commitment to us!
Today, I was reminded that these special moments are invaluable when experienced with the Lord. His fellowship and presence is incomparable to the fleeting times of life. The moments of despair and agony are especially important times to be spent with the Lord. As Paul wrote, we are to be content in all things - assured by the grace of God, that He is sufficient even in our times of weakness. This is the reality for another friend of mine who is grieving the termination of a relationship. To share this burden with him is the opposite of Taylor and Graci's celebration, but what a blessing to also share our pains with one another just as I am assured of God's loving commitment to us.
On top of the mountains, the prophet could see into the Promised Land of what is to come, but that of which he could not yet have. So true it is today that the Kingdom is here - kissing us in the face - but it is not yet a complete fulfillment of His promises to us. We pray to have eyes to see this Kingdom, to experience it, and to await the coming of the Bridegroom for which our pains and agonies shall be redeemed and we shall be completely united as His bride in a consummation of His loving promises to us.
Monday, January 30, 2012
To Change a Word
The children's saying "sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me" is an idealistically contrived statement for children to learn, but we know that the teaching is not truthful.
Words have power, at least the power that the communicator gives the words he/she communicates. Linguists and communication specialists certainly understand this power and seek to harness and utilize such power to more effectively and efficiently communicate.
Historically, over time, perceptions of words are altered and then the usage of those words changes dramatically.
The term "evangelical Christian" conjures unique perceptive insights and conclusions for different individuals. A movement, primarily among the younger generation of the Church, has concluded that to combat the negative connotations potentially perceived by the term evangelical Christian, other verbiage should be used to define one's faith, i.e., "follower of Christ," "disciple of Christ," etc.
The divisions within the Church are already well established along denominational lines, and more internal divisions seem to be created in the wake of this movement of redefining.
Instead of the abandonment of the classical term "evangelical Christian" or even "Christian" for that matter, the power of the term lies not in the one who perceives its definition, but by the one who demonstrates its power. Thus, it is prudent not to abandon a historically conclusive term based on relative perceptions.
It is my aim not to provide an alternative definition of my faith, simply to appease the prevalent misuse and damaging connotations of the term. Rather I seek utilize a term that is historically identifiable and demonstrates the power of my incomplete and yet beautiful definition of faith.
Words have power, at least the power that the communicator gives the words he/she communicates. Linguists and communication specialists certainly understand this power and seek to harness and utilize such power to more effectively and efficiently communicate.
Historically, over time, perceptions of words are altered and then the usage of those words changes dramatically.
The term "evangelical Christian" conjures unique perceptive insights and conclusions for different individuals. A movement, primarily among the younger generation of the Church, has concluded that to combat the negative connotations potentially perceived by the term evangelical Christian, other verbiage should be used to define one's faith, i.e., "follower of Christ," "disciple of Christ," etc.
The divisions within the Church are already well established along denominational lines, and more internal divisions seem to be created in the wake of this movement of redefining.
Instead of the abandonment of the classical term "evangelical Christian" or even "Christian" for that matter, the power of the term lies not in the one who perceives its definition, but by the one who demonstrates its power. Thus, it is prudent not to abandon a historically conclusive term based on relative perceptions.
It is my aim not to provide an alternative definition of my faith, simply to appease the prevalent misuse and damaging connotations of the term. Rather I seek utilize a term that is historically identifiable and demonstrates the power of my incomplete and yet beautiful definition of faith.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Now Is the Time
Living life by semesters is no glorious feat. In fact, life becomes quite compartmentalized based on one semester to the next. Although this is not an ideal lifestyle, it is my present reality and thus I must assert that I am thankful for a new beginning, if you will, every sixteen weeks.
Assuredly, I have forgotten, and or repressed, much of last semester. Reflection and meditation were abandoned for a continual momentum, which enabled me merely to survive. That was a bad decision, and thus now is the time.
And it's a perfect time at that. Not to dwell in the past, but to relish in the present.
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