Lord,
Sovereign is what I call You when I'm scared,
and when I see Your hand at work.
Loving is what I call You when I am lonely,
and when I feel the warmth of Your presence.
Savior, I call you, when I feel lost,
and when I feel free.
Emmanuel, God with us, when I hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing,
and when Your intimate whisperings brings me to laughter at my own foolishness.
Your names, God, You have given Yourself. You have revealed them to us.
You named us, and then named Yourself in our Tongue. Yeshua. Jesus.
A name not to be thrown around. A name not to be shortened and abbreviated.
You named Yourself. You defined Yourself. You placed Yourself within limits.
Such is incarnation. Such is condescension. Such is the love of my God.
You gave me something to which I may cling, when no such thing was warranted.
You gave me a name, Yours, that I might sing it when I have no other choruses,
pray it when I have no other prayers,
speak it when I have no other words,
write it when I have no other thoughts to write.
In You I hope. In You I trust. Where else can I go?
I wait for the fullness of Your kingdom. Come and make me new. Comfort me by Your Spirit.
Draw me close, and whisper again.
For it will take but a breath to wake me,
but a name to quicken my coagulated affections.
Speak Your name, Jesus, as I do, that I might be returned to You again, my first love,
and the only love that can truly satisfy.
Jesus.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
Rhythm and Spontaneity
This is one of several attempts at describing discipleship for a friend of mine. The challenge- to stay around three hundred words. Epic fail. I probably wrote 15 pages, writing and rewriting to say what I mean. This was one of the lost attempts, but still good. Takes a slightly more pragmatic approach, which I hope to dig into later.
---
Hebrew discipleship prescribed learning through imitation. While actions were instructed and theology taught, the intended transference was something much less tangible: relationship, which the instruction of words and the modification of behavior could never truly achieve. Thus, Jesus's discipleship of the twelve did not focus on orthodoxy, nor orthopraxy, but on a learning of discipline and attentiveness, of the rhythm and spontaneity of loving God and loving man, which produced right belief and behavior as its wake.
It was not behavior nor belief which brought us into the kingdom, but His initiation. It is in and by the presence of God that we are still changed into the image of Christ. This is why the relationship into which Jesus enters, that which He commissions to establish and expand the church, is discipleship. It is a yoking, a learning to walk together that teaches us to abide in love.
In reading Numbers recently, the contrast between the first eight chapters and the ninth surprised me. The first section delineates feasts and protocol. The relationship of the Israelite to the Lord is defined exclusively by disciplines, rhythms. Yet in nine the Lord instructs them to camp and move whenever the cloud moves. Suddenly their previously ordered lives hinge upon the unpredictable movement of God. They are forced into attentiveness, spontaneity.
Every relationship exists between these poles. Our friends are those with whom we have regular rhythms of interaction, yet without attentive spontaneity any relationship falls stagnant, becoming duty instead of love.
It is helpful, for me, in discipleship, to think less about what the student needs to believe or do, and more about how I engage in relationship with the Lord, and to invite them there. In this way I begin to lead them, not in correcting thoughts and behaviors (that will happen along the way), but instead in submitting to and listening for the Lord, as He calls me in rhythm and spontaneity.
What are the rhythms and spontaneities in which you follow the Lord? How can you share them with others? This is the beginning of discipleship.
---
Hebrew discipleship prescribed learning through imitation. While actions were instructed and theology taught, the intended transference was something much less tangible: relationship, which the instruction of words and the modification of behavior could never truly achieve. Thus, Jesus's discipleship of the twelve did not focus on orthodoxy, nor orthopraxy, but on a learning of discipline and attentiveness, of the rhythm and spontaneity of loving God and loving man, which produced right belief and behavior as its wake.
It was not behavior nor belief which brought us into the kingdom, but His initiation. It is in and by the presence of God that we are still changed into the image of Christ. This is why the relationship into which Jesus enters, that which He commissions to establish and expand the church, is discipleship. It is a yoking, a learning to walk together that teaches us to abide in love.
In reading Numbers recently, the contrast between the first eight chapters and the ninth surprised me. The first section delineates feasts and protocol. The relationship of the Israelite to the Lord is defined exclusively by disciplines, rhythms. Yet in nine the Lord instructs them to camp and move whenever the cloud moves. Suddenly their previously ordered lives hinge upon the unpredictable movement of God. They are forced into attentiveness, spontaneity.
Every relationship exists between these poles. Our friends are those with whom we have regular rhythms of interaction, yet without attentive spontaneity any relationship falls stagnant, becoming duty instead of love.
It is helpful, for me, in discipleship, to think less about what the student needs to believe or do, and more about how I engage in relationship with the Lord, and to invite them there. In this way I begin to lead them, not in correcting thoughts and behaviors (that will happen along the way), but instead in submitting to and listening for the Lord, as He calls me in rhythm and spontaneity.
What are the rhythms and spontaneities in which you follow the Lord? How can you share them with others? This is the beginning of discipleship.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Jesus the Diagram
The western church holds the teacher above most spiritual callings. While we may not verbalize it, our services and programs say it loud and clear. Most Christians expect the greatest growth and change to happen during the sermon. It's the most critiqued part of any church. He didn't use enough scripture. It was too self-help-y. It was too long/short. I didn't really get anything from it today.
Who is the highest paid pastor? Almost always the teacher. If a church can only hire one pastor, what do they look for? A teacher. What takes up the most time in a general Sunday service? The teaching.
But it goes deeper. How do we structure our ministries to the body? Around teaching. What happens in our community groups/life groups/cell groups? Typically, the sermon is discussed, or a new teaching is presented.
Is the teacher important? Yes. Crucial. Jesus teaches again and again, with the few and the many. In Hosea says that Israel is in sin because it has abandoned the knowledge of God. What are the epistles if not long teachings?
But still, there is a danger here. The western mind values knowledge, understanding, information, above almost every other faculty of knowing, largely, I'd assume, due to the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. Reason, with the scientific method, rules. What does it mean to be a Christian in the West? It means to believe, to know the right things. A Christian has made an intellectual assent to truth. He knows, and therefore he is.
But Jesus did not take the same approach. Jesus taught His disciples, sure, but they seemed to have no idea what He was talking about most of the time. Peter moves swiftly from an affirmation of Jesus as the Son of God to challenging His submission to the cross. On the road to Emmaus, after His resurrection, He must again explain Himself to His disciples. Immediately before He rises to heaven in Acts, the disciples ask if they would soon liberate Jerusalem from the Romans. They still have no idea what He has intended in the proclamation of His kingdom. Jesus takes it in stride, and seemingly ignores the question. They'll find out soon enough, when he disappears into the clouds.
In fact, the disciples seem unsure and confused until the visible arrival of the Holy Spirit. Illumination, perhaps, as one of the Spirit's roles, finally opened their eyes to the gospel. Seemingly so, for after Pentecost there was no stopping them.
All that to say, Jesus's highest priority was not understanding. It was discipleship, in which the life of one is taken onto the other. Yoking. Jesus called the disciples not to a new bible study where the ultimate teacher would clear things up. He called them to follow Him as He lived. Teaching formed only a part of their spiritual formation. An important part, but still, just a part. Much more occurred in walking, watching, doing ministry themselves. They were healing and casting out demons long before they had any idea what the gospel truly meant. They just had an idea that this Guy was something else, and that He loved like no one else, had authority like no one else, and on top of that, He brought a new teaching. He was a teacher, but so much more, and so in discipleship they came to know Jesus the person, instead of Jesus the diagram.
Is this not the good news? That, as Hosea prophecies, God would be called Husband and not Master? What beautiful news that is to hardened ears.
This has massive ramifications. Firstly, those we pour into- do we lead and mentor and disciple as Jesus did, with more than information alone, but with life and ministry and walking and praying and healing? Do we introduce concepts, or Persons? Do we instruct them in worship, or show them the Lamb, before whom all knees bow?
And think alos of how this changes the way we read scripture. Instead of mining for truths, arguments, theologies- we meditate on it. We listen to God in it. We open ourselves to more than the surface-level statement, and begin to see in every page the pursuit of a loving God, the wrath of a holy God, the joy of a chosen people. With instruction- we cannot deny the beauty of truth, of theology, of good sermons and little scriptural nugs. God uses them. But He uses so much more as well. How can we open ourselves to knowing God in a well-rounded, discipleship-driven way, instead of through the west's favorite lens of pure, rational information? That is a good question.
Who is the highest paid pastor? Almost always the teacher. If a church can only hire one pastor, what do they look for? A teacher. What takes up the most time in a general Sunday service? The teaching.
But it goes deeper. How do we structure our ministries to the body? Around teaching. What happens in our community groups/life groups/cell groups? Typically, the sermon is discussed, or a new teaching is presented.
Is the teacher important? Yes. Crucial. Jesus teaches again and again, with the few and the many. In Hosea says that Israel is in sin because it has abandoned the knowledge of God. What are the epistles if not long teachings?
But still, there is a danger here. The western mind values knowledge, understanding, information, above almost every other faculty of knowing, largely, I'd assume, due to the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. Reason, with the scientific method, rules. What does it mean to be a Christian in the West? It means to believe, to know the right things. A Christian has made an intellectual assent to truth. He knows, and therefore he is.
But Jesus did not take the same approach. Jesus taught His disciples, sure, but they seemed to have no idea what He was talking about most of the time. Peter moves swiftly from an affirmation of Jesus as the Son of God to challenging His submission to the cross. On the road to Emmaus, after His resurrection, He must again explain Himself to His disciples. Immediately before He rises to heaven in Acts, the disciples ask if they would soon liberate Jerusalem from the Romans. They still have no idea what He has intended in the proclamation of His kingdom. Jesus takes it in stride, and seemingly ignores the question. They'll find out soon enough, when he disappears into the clouds.
In fact, the disciples seem unsure and confused until the visible arrival of the Holy Spirit. Illumination, perhaps, as one of the Spirit's roles, finally opened their eyes to the gospel. Seemingly so, for after Pentecost there was no stopping them.
All that to say, Jesus's highest priority was not understanding. It was discipleship, in which the life of one is taken onto the other. Yoking. Jesus called the disciples not to a new bible study where the ultimate teacher would clear things up. He called them to follow Him as He lived. Teaching formed only a part of their spiritual formation. An important part, but still, just a part. Much more occurred in walking, watching, doing ministry themselves. They were healing and casting out demons long before they had any idea what the gospel truly meant. They just had an idea that this Guy was something else, and that He loved like no one else, had authority like no one else, and on top of that, He brought a new teaching. He was a teacher, but so much more, and so in discipleship they came to know Jesus the person, instead of Jesus the diagram.
Is this not the good news? That, as Hosea prophecies, God would be called Husband and not Master? What beautiful news that is to hardened ears.
This has massive ramifications. Firstly, those we pour into- do we lead and mentor and disciple as Jesus did, with more than information alone, but with life and ministry and walking and praying and healing? Do we introduce concepts, or Persons? Do we instruct them in worship, or show them the Lamb, before whom all knees bow?
And think alos of how this changes the way we read scripture. Instead of mining for truths, arguments, theologies- we meditate on it. We listen to God in it. We open ourselves to more than the surface-level statement, and begin to see in every page the pursuit of a loving God, the wrath of a holy God, the joy of a chosen people. With instruction- we cannot deny the beauty of truth, of theology, of good sermons and little scriptural nugs. God uses them. But He uses so much more as well. How can we open ourselves to knowing God in a well-rounded, discipleship-driven way, instead of through the west's favorite lens of pure, rational information? That is a good question.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Darkness, Mystery, and Worship
With a name like that, I feel this post has much to live up to. And honestly, it repeats much of an earlier post. Yet, it has so much to do with today's sermon, I felt it was a good time to post it anyway.
Who among you fears the Lord
and obeys the voice of His servant?
Let him who walks in darkness and has no light
trust in the name of the Lord
and rely on his God.
Behold, all you who kindle a fire,
who equip yourselves with burning torches!
walk by the light of your fire
and by the torches that you have kindled!
This you have from my hand,
you shall lie down in torment!
Isaiah 50.10-11
Survival tip: You cannot fight quicksand. Struggling and swimming only loosens the soup around you, drawing you deeper. Instead, you must stop, rest. You must order your body to remain motionless even as every instinct screams panic and every limb is shaking with the desire to flail around for whatever hope might be grasped.
Isaiah speaks of our response to utter darkness. Darkness creates discomfort and tension, because it naturally limits our control, and so, as often as we can, we quickly build our own fires, light our own torches, to mitigate the tensions of unknowing and to limit the danger of mystery.
The problem is that our faith is naturally one immersed in mystery. Ours is a God of paradoxical statements, a God of proportions greater than our minds can comprehend. To reject mystery is to reject relationship with Him. When I reject tension, I reject life as He created it.
But this means that we will find ourselves in struggle, in tension, in uncertainty and doubt and anxiety and unknowing. How are we to respond?
Isaiah calls us to trust in the name of the Lord and rely on our God. Our tension, if offered to Him, can become worship; and mysteries, as Spurgeon wrote, become fuel for our devotion. But only if we allow Him to be their resolution instead of seeking to make things resolve on our own.
And how do we do this? How do we trust in the name of the Lord and rely upon our God? We remember what He has done, and what He has spoken. To allow mystery is not to remove truth, or even truth seeking, but to base our truth upon the Word of God, the one Truth incarnate and established. We lean upon what we do know know, namely, our relationship with Him insofar as He has reached out to us (in moments of our lives and in scriptural promises, ultimately manifest in Jesus Christ) to find security in what He has not yet revealed. When faced with immeasurable brokenness, we can worship, because we know He remains the same, even though we don't understand. When faced with doubts, we can worship, because we know that His love and His spirit remain, even though we don't understand. And it is in this darkness, if we leave our meager candles cold, that His light can become most defined, His heart most revealed, and His nature, which is so far greater than our own, most known: within mystery itself. For there we find a love and a wrath carried for us, an unearnable grace offered to us, and God breaking in our place. This, greatest of mysteries, is the moment of greatest revelation of our God- why then would we try to mitigate mystery today?
Who among you fears the Lord
and obeys the voice of His servant?
Let him who walks in darkness and has no light
trust in the name of the Lord
and rely on his God.
Behold, all you who kindle a fire,
who equip yourselves with burning torches!
walk by the light of your fire
and by the torches that you have kindled!
This you have from my hand,
you shall lie down in torment!
Isaiah 50.10-11
Survival tip: You cannot fight quicksand. Struggling and swimming only loosens the soup around you, drawing you deeper. Instead, you must stop, rest. You must order your body to remain motionless even as every instinct screams panic and every limb is shaking with the desire to flail around for whatever hope might be grasped.
Isaiah speaks of our response to utter darkness. Darkness creates discomfort and tension, because it naturally limits our control, and so, as often as we can, we quickly build our own fires, light our own torches, to mitigate the tensions of unknowing and to limit the danger of mystery.
The problem is that our faith is naturally one immersed in mystery. Ours is a God of paradoxical statements, a God of proportions greater than our minds can comprehend. To reject mystery is to reject relationship with Him. When I reject tension, I reject life as He created it.
But this means that we will find ourselves in struggle, in tension, in uncertainty and doubt and anxiety and unknowing. How are we to respond?
Isaiah calls us to trust in the name of the Lord and rely on our God. Our tension, if offered to Him, can become worship; and mysteries, as Spurgeon wrote, become fuel for our devotion. But only if we allow Him to be their resolution instead of seeking to make things resolve on our own.
And how do we do this? How do we trust in the name of the Lord and rely upon our God? We remember what He has done, and what He has spoken. To allow mystery is not to remove truth, or even truth seeking, but to base our truth upon the Word of God, the one Truth incarnate and established. We lean upon what we do know know, namely, our relationship with Him insofar as He has reached out to us (in moments of our lives and in scriptural promises, ultimately manifest in Jesus Christ) to find security in what He has not yet revealed. When faced with immeasurable brokenness, we can worship, because we know He remains the same, even though we don't understand. When faced with doubts, we can worship, because we know that His love and His spirit remain, even though we don't understand. And it is in this darkness, if we leave our meager candles cold, that His light can become most defined, His heart most revealed, and His nature, which is so far greater than our own, most known: within mystery itself. For there we find a love and a wrath carried for us, an unearnable grace offered to us, and God breaking in our place. This, greatest of mysteries, is the moment of greatest revelation of our God- why then would we try to mitigate mystery today?
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Response to Truth
A friend wrote me back with some excellent challenges and revision. After having asked permission, here is what they had to say:
---
I think certainly you are right, sometimes sharing the truth might not be a good thing, but I think you can err on the other side as well- in not being willing to speak truth in relationships enough. Both can lead to the demise of a friendship and I think it has to do with balance.
If you are never willing to speak about and address issues then you will just be sweeping things under the rug. Sure, you can bring them to God and surrender, but that doesn't change the fact that there are continued unaddressed issues in a relationship and eventually, I think that relationship is going to crumble if things go unresolved.
On the other hand, sharing too much can also destroy a relationship.
Personally, I think this is why balance is so important. You have to be honest in friendships, and you have to be able to address hurt. My friend has to be able to deal with the fact that sometimes she hurts my feelings and vice versa. We have to learn how to face that in a mature way and treat each other with grace. I think it is ok to share and address things, and a lot of times I think it is necessary. Otherwise resentment is too easily bred. That being said, I think it is important to learn how to recognize my motives and heart- why was I hurt by a certain situation, are my feelings warranted/equal to the action committed to hurt me? Or am I perhaps reacting from an old hurt or a place of pride or fear? Why do I want to address this hurt or issue? If my desire comes from a place of wanting the person to understand how terribly they have hurt me, than that's not a good place to come from. Whenever I want someone to "understand" I am seeking vindication of some sort, and that's not my place- I need to forgive. I pray and seek the Lord, then if I come to a place where I feel that my desire to be "honest" comes from a wanting to address the issue and move on, then it might be ok. In communicating about the issue I don't need to drill in how much I am bothered by the situation- if I say something it needs to be simple, acknowledging the issue and my sin as well. In bringing something up, I also need to be prepared and ready for whatever reaction I might receive. I may be received with grace, I may be rejected, or my hurt may be ignored. After bringing up the issue I may still be left feeling unsatisfied and unresolved. If that's the case, which is very possible, then it is time for me to take it to the Lord, as well as surrendering that friendship to the Lord. Sometimes I do think issues need to be addressed, bringing things from darkness to light, while also acknowledging my own sin and pride. Not addressing things can be just as destructive as addressing things. A lot rides on that other person too- how do I receive those that I hurt? Do I have grace with them and myself? Am I willing to admit my fault?
Relationships are sticky and messy sometimes because we are sticky and messy- in all of it, I think humility is key.
---
Great thoughts. Thanks for the wisdom!
---
I think certainly you are right, sometimes sharing the truth might not be a good thing, but I think you can err on the other side as well- in not being willing to speak truth in relationships enough. Both can lead to the demise of a friendship and I think it has to do with balance.
If you are never willing to speak about and address issues then you will just be sweeping things under the rug. Sure, you can bring them to God and surrender, but that doesn't change the fact that there are continued unaddressed issues in a relationship and eventually, I think that relationship is going to crumble if things go unresolved.
On the other hand, sharing too much can also destroy a relationship.
Personally, I think this is why balance is so important. You have to be honest in friendships, and you have to be able to address hurt. My friend has to be able to deal with the fact that sometimes she hurts my feelings and vice versa. We have to learn how to face that in a mature way and treat each other with grace. I think it is ok to share and address things, and a lot of times I think it is necessary. Otherwise resentment is too easily bred. That being said, I think it is important to learn how to recognize my motives and heart- why was I hurt by a certain situation, are my feelings warranted/equal to the action committed to hurt me? Or am I perhaps reacting from an old hurt or a place of pride or fear? Why do I want to address this hurt or issue? If my desire comes from a place of wanting the person to understand how terribly they have hurt me, than that's not a good place to come from. Whenever I want someone to "understand" I am seeking vindication of some sort, and that's not my place- I need to forgive. I pray and seek the Lord, then if I come to a place where I feel that my desire to be "honest" comes from a wanting to address the issue and move on, then it might be ok. In communicating about the issue I don't need to drill in how much I am bothered by the situation- if I say something it needs to be simple, acknowledging the issue and my sin as well. In bringing something up, I also need to be prepared and ready for whatever reaction I might receive. I may be received with grace, I may be rejected, or my hurt may be ignored. After bringing up the issue I may still be left feeling unsatisfied and unresolved. If that's the case, which is very possible, then it is time for me to take it to the Lord, as well as surrendering that friendship to the Lord. Sometimes I do think issues need to be addressed, bringing things from darkness to light, while also acknowledging my own sin and pride. Not addressing things can be just as destructive as addressing things. A lot rides on that other person too- how do I receive those that I hurt? Do I have grace with them and myself? Am I willing to admit my fault?
Relationships are sticky and messy sometimes because we are sticky and messy- in all of it, I think humility is key.
---
Great thoughts. Thanks for the wisdom!
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Submission of Truth
Truth exists, and that's a fact. I do believe in perfect truth, and I believe we can learn more and more about the world around us, learning more about truth.
And I do think that Jesus is called Truth, is the greatest Truth, and is the fulfillment of all other truth.
However, I do believe that creation is true and separate from God (while still being upheld by Him). That is to say, I do not believe creation is part of God, an extension of Him, but is something wholly other, while still created by and subject to His will.
Now, all that is preliminary to a discussion of our grasp and wielding of truth.
I sipped coffee with a new friend today. He is not a Christian, nor an atheist. He simply doesn't think about it much. We had a great conversation; I think enough for the two of us.
He spoke about a relationship in which he participates, into which he has brought great suffering recently. He spoke his true feelings to a friend, honestly and with integrity, and they brought no love or peace or change, but pain and hurt and fear. He wrestled with his integrity. Was it better to lie, to ignore what he felt, or to speak in integrity that which could never be said well.
Here I think we stumble across a major failure of man, propagated widely since the 'Enlightenment'. Man has held the existence of truth as the ultimate arbiter of action and deed- all is permissible, if done in truth.
We quickly apply this law to our emotions. When our feelings are 'true', we then claim this truth as a reason to act. Thus when my new friend felt negatively about his friend, integrity to truth bid him speak. [Or, perhaps his integrity excused his selfishness, and lack of self-control, as the case may be.] His voice tore the fabric of their relationship deeply. Words are powerful, and can do great damage. Further, words with truth behind them are nearly unstoppable.
He faces a dilemna intrinsic to the human condition. Truth cuts as a knife, and truth of disagreement or disappointment between two people must bring division, always. He spoke, division ensued, and now he must face the consequence of his action.
Yet could he live with integrity and not speak?
We see the same process at work in the placards that resign all sinners to hell, wielded by truth-believing people. They may wield truth, that all must meet with God, yet their method of expression falls far from submission to the love of God. They condemn rather than convict, ostracize instead of welcome. Even if they are right- all sinners deserve hell, including me and them.
The church has often taught that our feelings should be in alignment with the will of God. So they should, but rarely do they so align themselves. And in the tension we feel that we are forced to either deny the truth and lie or speak it and kill.
However, there remains a third option. It is the most difficult, and the most taxing, but the most life-giving and loving, I think, of the three. That is, to fully acknowledge the truth within us, the feelings that are present, and yet to submit them to a greater truth, to allow them to be vetted and pruned by that truth which abides over us, and not in us.
This means a death of sorts, for our truest desires are made subject- yet it does not mean a lie, nor does it produce division. It absorbs the pain of disagreement and disappointment and yet recognizes the pain as such.
Truth, part of the created order, stands alone. Yet it remains subject to the greater Truth that begot it. It remains subject to love, and compassion, and faith. Not that these change or alter truth, for truth is created, exists, is. But its use, the way we think and express it, must be submitted to God.
I've struggled to explain this, and will try again in the future. Let me know how I did.
And I do think that Jesus is called Truth, is the greatest Truth, and is the fulfillment of all other truth.
However, I do believe that creation is true and separate from God (while still being upheld by Him). That is to say, I do not believe creation is part of God, an extension of Him, but is something wholly other, while still created by and subject to His will.
Now, all that is preliminary to a discussion of our grasp and wielding of truth.
I sipped coffee with a new friend today. He is not a Christian, nor an atheist. He simply doesn't think about it much. We had a great conversation; I think enough for the two of us.
He spoke about a relationship in which he participates, into which he has brought great suffering recently. He spoke his true feelings to a friend, honestly and with integrity, and they brought no love or peace or change, but pain and hurt and fear. He wrestled with his integrity. Was it better to lie, to ignore what he felt, or to speak in integrity that which could never be said well.
Here I think we stumble across a major failure of man, propagated widely since the 'Enlightenment'. Man has held the existence of truth as the ultimate arbiter of action and deed- all is permissible, if done in truth.
We quickly apply this law to our emotions. When our feelings are 'true', we then claim this truth as a reason to act. Thus when my new friend felt negatively about his friend, integrity to truth bid him speak. [Or, perhaps his integrity excused his selfishness, and lack of self-control, as the case may be.] His voice tore the fabric of their relationship deeply. Words are powerful, and can do great damage. Further, words with truth behind them are nearly unstoppable.
He faces a dilemna intrinsic to the human condition. Truth cuts as a knife, and truth of disagreement or disappointment between two people must bring division, always. He spoke, division ensued, and now he must face the consequence of his action.
Yet could he live with integrity and not speak?
We see the same process at work in the placards that resign all sinners to hell, wielded by truth-believing people. They may wield truth, that all must meet with God, yet their method of expression falls far from submission to the love of God. They condemn rather than convict, ostracize instead of welcome. Even if they are right- all sinners deserve hell, including me and them.
The church has often taught that our feelings should be in alignment with the will of God. So they should, but rarely do they so align themselves. And in the tension we feel that we are forced to either deny the truth and lie or speak it and kill.
However, there remains a third option. It is the most difficult, and the most taxing, but the most life-giving and loving, I think, of the three. That is, to fully acknowledge the truth within us, the feelings that are present, and yet to submit them to a greater truth, to allow them to be vetted and pruned by that truth which abides over us, and not in us.
This means a death of sorts, for our truest desires are made subject- yet it does not mean a lie, nor does it produce division. It absorbs the pain of disagreement and disappointment and yet recognizes the pain as such.
Truth, part of the created order, stands alone. Yet it remains subject to the greater Truth that begot it. It remains subject to love, and compassion, and faith. Not that these change or alter truth, for truth is created, exists, is. But its use, the way we think and express it, must be submitted to God.
I've struggled to explain this, and will try again in the future. Let me know how I did.
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