The Art of Shaving: Be

So, I was talking with someone a few weeks ago about how I like shaving.  I used to be a 'shave in the shower for efficiency' guy, and lately I have been washing my face, lathering up (not letting the water run, we're also trying to think sustainably), and shaving.  I even bought some semi-old school shaving cream that Rachel says smells like Public Restroom (in the minty, but still unpleasant way).  I realized that she was right after I shaved without showering one afternoon.  Rachel also knew intuitively that I had been to "The Art of Shaving" in the Galleria - although I didn't buy anything...  Apparently there is a shaving ethos that I picked up on.

I think I like shaving because of the speed of it.  You cannot speed it up too much without disastrous results - I think I went through a period where I cut myself before every wedding I was in for like 5 weddings in a row.  Similarly, you cannot speed it up.  I like shaving because of the process; it involves hot water, it feels good if/when I take it slowly.  I like shaving because it is a uniquely masculine enterprise - I feel, just slightly, more like a man when I am shaving in the slow way.

As we talk about Sensing Jesus at Riverside, and if you have glanced through our Core Values (Faith, Hope, Love, Be) on our website, you know that we're attempting to listen to Jesus and the Spirit about ALL things.  Not simply how do we get to Heaven, or how do I manage my behavior, but also - how do I simply be.  What does it mean to be human in light of Jesus of Nazareth?  What does it mean for Matt Blazer of Tulsa, Oklahoma?  How do I be a man in light of the Gospel?  How do I be a father or a husband?  Or an intern, or a basketball player, or a guy who sometimes writes on a blog, or deal with anxiety and the pressures of life?  It is amazing how much something simple - like shaving, which is really just a funny way of taking a few deep breaths for me - helps.  And, it is even more amazing to realize that that is just as much a part of being a follower of Jesus - embracing my limits and basic humanity - then my attempts to manage my sin and be "Godly".  Maybe it is even more of a part of it.  

-Matt Blazer

What did Jesus Hear?

Before typing I looked on Google Images for a picture of Jesus that includes his ears.  I tried a couple of different things - hoping for something funny more than a good picture of Jesus' ears...  I found nothing, if you find something interesting, please let me know!

This past Sunday Zack preached on what Jesus heard.  3 times he mentioned that it is not sin to hear a cuss word. While I am listening to this series I am enjoying it tremendously, but when I get home I find myself confronted with the ways I have always done things, with the ways I have always thought - and I am troubled.  Apparently, my limits are not sin either - they are human - and yet, I don't want limits, I want to be really productive: as a man, as a father, as an intern at the church, etc.  Maybe it isn't sin to hear cussing, but I grew up thinking that it was.  Maybe my limits are not sin (in fact, it seems pretty clear they are not), but when I am with my family I think it is often my job to meet all of their needs.

Over and over in the "Sermon on the Mount" Jesus said, "You have heard it said... but I say to you...".  You think this way, but I am telling you it is about the heart.  You know these laws, and you're trying to keep them, but the character within is more important.  You think that if you manage your behavior, God will be pleased with you and I am here to free you from such loneliness and hollow religion.  I have to be honest - I cannot picture Jesus' ears.  Can you?  I am much more used to the Jesus who gets me to Heaven than I am the one who hears me.  I really can't picture Jesus hear someone cuss and be unbothered.  That is ridiculous and hollow and silly...  Our theology states that Jesus is fully God and fully man, but I'm not sure I know Him as fully man.  Something in me wants to believe no one would actually cuss around Jesus.  That is ridiculous and hollow and...  you get the idea, you remember the kind of people Jesus hung out with.  Why can't I picture him hearing cussing?  Why do I think it is bad when I hear it?  Why do I have trouble with my limits in general?  What do you think?

-Matt Blazer

Space for questions

Big coincidence that I (Matt Blazer) am posting on Thursday and On Tap is tonight.  On Tap is this funny thing Riverside does at Llywelyn's Pub next door to our office in Webster.  We get together, like people used to do in Pubs before texting and the internet and bedroom communities, and discuss an important topic - what New Year's Resolutions did you make and why, Can Black Friday save the Economy (seems like the answer to that one was, "no"), and tonight we will be discussing how Barack Obama is doing in his first month as president.

I was talking with some other church leaders who do a similar event over in Maplewood at Bottleworks, and we were wondering if the over-arching purpose to something like On Tap might just be that after a few years we will have convinced a few people that Christians are not all arrogant, narrow-minded, and angry at "liberals".  I wonder if it is worth it if that is "all" we accomplish.

I think the reason it is important is to create space.  I have questions about everything from politics to the question of suffering (never mind the question of a good definition of suffering).  It seems like my friends care more about what I think than what Tim Keller and N.T. Wright (minor Christian celebrity writers - they are even featured at Barnes and Noble sometimes).  So, I try and bring them to On Tap.  Rarely are their questions answered there - no one teaches, we just try and get people to talk to one another.  But, there is space made in our relationship.  We end up sitting and talking - sometimes about the discussion at hand (September was over religion and pretty light, October was over the election and someone might have called someone else a fascist), and sometimes about more difficult questions of faith and life.  I have some new friends through On Tap and I enjoy getting to know them better when we hang out afterwards.  

I have noticed (because I'm really observant) that we're not big on comments.  Let's change that.  Do you have space and time for your questions?  If so, where and when is that space?  Is it only with trusted friends or do you like talking with random people?  If you are a Christian how does it feel that your friends want to know (or don't) what you think, and turning them to this or that author isn't nearly as effective as you sitting and having a conversation?  Are you as afraid of telling your friend "I don't know, but that is a good question..." as I am?  Does it feel dignifying or terrifying that what we have to offer are ourselves, and not fancy impervious arguments?  What is it like to be a Christian at your place of business, or as a stay-at-home mom?  Are you insulated from people that don't know the Lord, or are they everywhere in your life?  Are you frustrated or relieved that what you have to offer if yourself?  

Just some questions, let's get the comments going...  And, you should totally come to On Tap tonight (7:0 at Llywelyn's)

-Mat Blazer

Ministry as a Human Being

It is not a sin to be human. I need not ask forgiveness from God or from another human being because there are some things that I cannot do. By definition, a human being is not God. Being human means that I am not omnipotent (all powerful). Only God can do everything. Nor do I need to ask forgiveness or shame myself because there are many things that I simply do not know. A human being is not omniscient (all knowing). Only God knows everything. Similarly, I am not sinning when I cannot be in more than one place at a time. By nature a human being can only inhabit one place at a time. Only God is omnipresent (everywhere at once). 

A dear friend of mine teaches classes at a local seminary. Sometimes he has his students stand up and say out loud to one another, "I am not the Christ." I'm thinking that when we say we are not God, we are positively declaring to another, "I am a human being." 

Part of living a life that makes much of God requires us to make much of our noble limits as human beings. To humble ones' self is not to shame one's self. Rather, we express humility when we surrender to our limits; when we live as if we are not God. Humility does not always feel very good. It is often less than pleasant to stand naked in my lack of knowledge, limits of power and local geography. It feels vulnerable for others to experience what I am not. 

Sometimes we require or demand others to know everything, be everywhere we want them to be or have the ability to do everything we we feel we need from them. In desiring them to do what only God can do we often wear them out with our demands or hollow them out with our flattery and their lustful desire to feel like God for another. Sometimes we refuse to surrender to our own limits and lacks because we too do not want to let go of the possibility of being God for another or for ourselves. 

The Apostle Paul reveals his humanity. In doing so, he shows us that ministry is human. In fact, surrendering to our limits is required if we desire to make much of God with our lives. Paul reminds us that he and his ministry are local (Macedonia), physical (our bodies had no rest), stressful (affliction at every turn), non-controllable (fighting without), and psychological (fears within) (2 Corinthians 7:5-7). 

What makes Paul's ministry powerful is that Paul declares that he cannot be everywhere at once, is not able to do all things that must be done, and cannot control or understand or know all things. What Paul does know however is that "God who comforts the downcast comforted us." Our effectiveness in ministry has more to do with the presence of God amid our ordinary lives than with our striving for perfection or amassing abilities. The fact that Paul has a body and feels its impact, that while in Macedonia those in other places must exist without him, that he cannot control the criticisms others level at him or that he feels deeply afraid and wrestles with the challenges he faces; none of these realities disqualifies Paul. Rather, surrendering to these limits shatters the illusions that others want to have of their ministers and that ministers want to cultivate about themselves. 

Only God is God. The rest of us must return to our places. In so doing, we learn the freedom of contentment, the knowledge of what we are not, and the grace to enjoy what we are with God. 

Zack

A Community of Dogs

My cynical and ungrateful thoughts began: “Great, what is this? Another DVD set that I’ll probably never watch? Sweetheart, do you think we can get the receipt and exchange it?” It was Christmas 2007 (my first Christmas married to Laura), and I had just entered the world of “gifts from people who you wish knew you better.” The wrapping paper had yet to hit the floor and I was already “writing off” one of the best Christmas gifts we got that year (Thanks, T & R!).

Aside from having issues of ingratitude that I need to deal with, I also had just never heard of this extremely fantastic DVD series: Planet Earth (If you’ve seen it, you now know how ignorant I truly was about its magnificence. If you haven’t seen it, quit reading this blog and go rent it…or call me and you can borrow it.). I digress. Planet Earth is an amazing series about our “little blue ball” and how delicate and stunning the various ecosystems therein (or is it thereon) truly are. 

One of my favorite vignettes tells of the wild dogs of the African plains. These dogs are incredibly impressive. Eight or nine of them live together in a pack and they all work together to get their food. I was amazed by the way they “flesh out” (sorry for the gory pun) the need for one another. To survive, they depend on each other; and to live alone is sure death for any one of them. Modern day community theorists are not saying anything new.

Not only is it fascinating to watch the way they work together, but I was also stunned at how they pursue their prey. On the DVD there is an overhead shot of them in attack formation—they are all running in a straight line and then they “peel off” to attack their prey. It is a planned pursuit. It is an intentional pursuit. It is a communal pursuit.

What if these dogs teach us something about community? Now, some of you who have been burned by a “less-than-biblical” Christianity might be thinking, “Yeah, the church’s pursuit as wild, rabid dogs is incredibly fitting.” Touché. Sadly, this has been the case on more than one occasion. However, what I aim to address is what if the Christian community began to be marked by a resolve in its pursuit, not to the detriment of those whom we pursue, but for their good? It seems to me this is something of the way Jesus himself lived, so much so that at one point in his life he mentioned that his whole reason for coming was to “seek and to save the lost.” There is resolve. There is constancy.

At Riverside, we long to be a people characterized by the sort of pursuit that Jesus himself embodied. It seems to me that this will be quite costly of our hearts, resources, and time. It would mean that we do not choose passivity in our approach to fostering relationships. It would mean that the marginalized are celebrated and that we would not quit on people when they became difficult. Why would we choose to live like this? Because we would know that “alone-ness” would be tantamount to the vulnerability experienced by the dogs’ prey.

After all, the gospel—at its core—is that we, too, were these things…and Jesus doggedly (sorry, I couldn’t resist) came after us. It is my hope that Riverside Church would be a community that pursues. Would you join with me in dreaming about community? Something about it tells me it should not be done alone.   --Ryan

On Being Human: Seeing what Jesus Sees

I feel embarrassed that C.S. Lewis describes me so well. For what he seems to know of me is not flattering. Lewis once pointed out how difficult it is for us to remember our humanity when looking at one another and interpreting one another. In his Screwtape Letters, Lewis imagines how a senior devil might teach a younger devil to disorient Jesus followers. Referring to the Jesus follower as the "patient" the senior devil says this:

“When he [the patient] gets to his pew and looks around him he sees just that selection of his neighbours whom he has hitherto avoided….Provided that any of those neighbors sing out of tune, or have boots that squeak, or double chins, or odd clothes, the patient will quite easily believe that their religion must be somehow ridiculous.” (Lewis, Screwtape, 12)

I am prone to believe that categorizing and explaining is synonymous with knowing and understanding. I see a red bird. I call it a Cardinal. I may tell others that this bird is a Cardinal. Yet, I actually know nothing about the habits of Cardinals in general or the nuances on the body of a Cardinal that indicates its unique story. I am often tempted to treat human beings in this same way. I'm even prone to illusions about myself because I see myself more cruelly than Jesus does or less realistically than He does. Each of us, even those of us whose eyes work well, is partially blind when we look at ourselves and at one another. 

Most of us know what it is to have others look at us but not see us. We know what it is for another

to keep us tied to our worst moments. We feel used and fraud-like because only our best moments are valued.Jesus is different. Jesus does not look at us, at other people or the world in the same way as His followers, the secularists, the spiritualists, or the religious tend to. The religious and the common folk see Levi the tax collector; Levi the scoundrel. Levi the corrupt misuser of money. The thief. The bribe-taker. But Levi tells us that, in contrast to how others saw him, when Jesus looked at him, Jesus saw a man. "As Jesus passed from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth...." In contrast, "when the Pharisees saw this, they said . . .'Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" 

Similarly, when the religious and the the indifferent saw the notorious woman. They saw her as the sinner she was. But Jesus pointedly asks them to see her humanity. "Do you see this woman?" he asks. (Luke 7:44) The way Jesus asks stuns us. He looks at her not them. He turns away from them and toward her. He leaves them in the shadow of His gaze. He places the full light and heat within his loving eyes upon her. He looks into her eyes. He touches her heart. Fully seeing her, he asks them, "do you see this woman?" He does not minimize her. He does not exaggerate her. He lets her be within His gaze as she is. 

I feel humbled by Jesus. Jesus does not blind himself to the wounds and rants and insanities of a person. He confronts such things with the love and payment of His life, death and resurrection. But Jesus confronts as one convinced of our human dignity. It was through Him after all, that we have been created. Others label you. But in Wendell Berry's words, they assume that explanations are more like buckets than wells. When Jesus sees you. He sees you as a human being. He does not reduce you to simple explanation. He enters the deeps and from there draws out the nuances of the tributaries within you.

So, as a an ordinary man, I long to feel the fulness of His gaze and to grant it to others. As a community of Jesus followers, we at Riverside want to echo the words of Bono from U2. We ask God. "When you look at the world what is it that you see? People find all kinds of things that bring them to their knees." With the song, we then testify that how Jesus relates differs dramatically from our own visual attempts with people. "I see an expression so clear and so true," Bono continues, "that changes the atmosphere when you walk into the room. So I try to be like you, try to feel it like you do." But then we humble ourselves and confess that apart from Him we cannot see. We agree with Bono, "But without you its no use. I can't see what you see when I look at the world."

Jesus, as your followers, please teach us to see human beings again. Please free us to see ourselves without illusion but with your eyes.