Sometimes it isn't ironic, it just sucks.

I play guitar for Riverside once a month or so.  Last Sunday I played, and completely butchered, a classic hymn.  For those of you who took piano lessons, the song was supposed to be in 3/4 and I started it up in 4/4.  For those of you who didn't take piano lessons there was one beat too many every line.  Basically I accidently caused a classic song that everyone knows to have a bit of a swing.  Much to the credit of the other four musicians onstage we made it through the song, and it even started sounding kind of cool the last couple of verses.

Most of the congregation probably couldn't have told you what exactly was wrong with the song, but I assure you most of the congregation thought that if felt wrong.  The reason I am telling you all of this is that I feel that it is very similar to sin in my life.  There are so many things that I fail in daily.  Things that I know about, and am embarrassed by.  Even though very few people at church yesterday knew I was the one who messed up the song, I knew, and I felt shame (I'm over it now though).  

Also, like yesterday, there are a few people around me who are quite aware of it when I sin.  My family and close friends feel the direct consequences just like the band in being forced to adjust to my error.

Finally, the big picture.  My sin might not directly effect everyone I come in contact with daily, but due to my imperfect nature things are just a bit off, they don't quite feel right, just like that hymn yesterday.

Fortunately we have a perfect savior.  Despite my sin, God uses me and sanctifies me.  Despite my screw up yesterday God's name was praised...be thou my vision, oh Ruler of all.

Planet Reebok

The current series at Riverside is on the beatitudes, and yesterday we explored, "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the Earth."

One of the illustrations I dropped during my sermon was about basketball. I play on a team with some old friends and some guys from the church. Matt McReynolds would tell you he is not very meek... Anyway, last Monday we got killed. During the thrashing the other team was talking a lot of smack/junk/trash. Their captain in particular likes to talk for most of the game. This became funny when Doug Coleman began harassing him all over the court. Doug, strong as an ox with a huge grin on his face, talking back (but kindly) and telling me later, "I just wanted to mess with him to see what he would do... grown men shouldn't act the way he was acting." Doug can do that because the other man couldn't just squash doug with a finger (like he could to me). I should also mention that this particular team thinks Steve Bell is Kobe.

ANYWAY, what I noticed is that they talk a lot more when winning. When we have beaten them they talk to the referees.

This also reminded me of playing pick up basketball in college. There are 50 guys I can think of - that I played with hundreds of times throughout my time at Mizzou - who do not know my name. But, they know my friend Jody's name. The difference is performance. Jody's nickname was the Matrix because many of the guys weren't sure why he could score as many as he could on them. But, they knew his real name also. Antonio, Junior, Brooks, Shackleford, Chuck, the other Chuck... Guys I played in pick up games with and against, league games with and against... some of them fought with some of my closer friends and we broke up the fights. The point is that respect is earned there. Humanity, to some degree, is fully dependent upon what you can (or cannot) do. I still love basketball, and I even understand this dynamic. But, it is hard and sad also.

In the Beatitudes Jesus is imagining a community, a humanity, and a world where humanity is simply based upon humanity. Where the world is ruled by a just order, where people assert justice and not their own selfish interests (which is a working definition of meekness). And Jesus says that the people who follow Him will begin to evidence these traits today. It is a scary and beautiful reality that the subversive, revolutionary Gospel of God dignifies us with such a role. To move into the world evidencing our inadequacy, our meekness, our willingness to mourn...

I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into renting a movie whose plot is sexual abuse by a Catholic priest but I was blown away by incredible acting and a thought provoking, well written story. I love when a movie effortlessly grabs my attention and won't let go for days afterward. As I've processed elements of the film, I have indeed been left to wrestle with what I suppose was the writers intent: doubt.

Faith is the antithesis of doubt, yet as a person of faith in Christ, doubt is a part of my life.  The evidene of our world's fallen state bombards me every day as I watch the news and hear of conflict, poverty and injustice.  I'm filled with overwhelming sorrow as I hear of a friend's illness, a teenager's suicide, a neighbor's job loss.  I feel despondant when I wrestle with questions a movie like this raises, "how can a God who is loving allow a priest, a man supposedly of God, to abuse an innocent child and steal a precious part of him that he will never get back?"  

I take comofort in knowing that I am not the first person of faith who has struggled with questions and doubt.  God has given us a provocative example to study in the story of Job.  Job was a faithful man of God, yet God allowed unbearable hardship and sorrow to enter his life.  Here's a brief glimpse into his story:

25Did not I [Job] weep for him whose day was hard?
   Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
²⁶But when I hoped for good, evil came,
   and when I waited for light,darkness came.
²⁷My inward parts are in turmoil and never still;

   days of affliction come to meet me. - Job 30:25-27

In his story Job questions the Lord and God does not rebuke him for that.  However, God does not give Job a direct answer to his questions.  Rather the Lord returns with questions of his own to Job:

"Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
   Tell me, if you have understanding.
⁵Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
   Or who stretched the line upon it?
⁶On what were its bases sunk,
   or who laid its cornerstone,
⁷when the morning stars sang together
   and all the sons of God shouted for joy?" - Job 38:4-7

It is okay for me to question and doubt but it is not okay for me to expect to fully understand the ways of the Lord.  My pride demands full disclosure as a right and a prerequisite to my complete trust, but that was never promised to me.  Christ himself, who knows all things and understands all things still felt the human sting of being forsaken by the Lord as he hung on the cross.  If it was okay for Christ to ask why God had forsaken him, I know it is okay for me to ask the Lord my tough questions full of doubt, as Job did, and as Sister Aloysius did at the end of the movie.  In the example of Christ, I choose faith, in spite of my doubt.  

-Natalie Wilson

Christian Artist vs. Christian in the Arts

            I grew up listening to Christian rock music.  It was the heyday of the genre, with bands like Petra, Whiteheart, Geoff Moore, and Degarmo & Key making a whole generation of youth group teenagers feel that they could be Christians and still be, at least a teeny bit, cool.   It was the age of very hard lines between the sacred and the secular.  Secular rock music was Evil, while "Christian" rock was all right (as long as it wasn't too rocky and the singers didn't have hair past their collars).  Thus, I grew up with a very strict definition of what it meant to be a Christian in the arts.  It meant 1) that everything you created had to have the word "Jesus" in it somewhere, and 2) that there was absolutely no confusion about the fact that you were a Christian artist.  It had to be stamped on everything you did.It wasn't a description of who you were; it was a category, a demographic, a genre.

            As a young adult, I began to wonder about this distinction.  I thought about bands like the Grateful Dead.  Nobody thought of them as "Hindu Rock", even though their music was obviously very influenced by things like eastern mysticism.  Nobody called Slayer "Satanist Heavy Metal" (maybe because their purported Satanism was about as genuine as a thirteen dollar bill, but still).  I realized that, in the "secular" world, people just created stuff, and the stuff they created was more often than not reflective of their beliefs and worldviews.  It was only the Christians who had created this "us and them" exclusivity.  And what was the result?  It allowed the people who probably most needed to hear the Christian message to conveniently tune it out.  And I started thinking: whatever happened to being gentle as doves but wise as serpents?  How is it wise to effectively assure that the world can easily ignore our message?

            I am a Christian and an artist.  But-and I hope this doesn't make too many people mad-I am not a Christian artist.  I'll admit, in all honesty, that I don't actively try to squeeze God into my art.  In fact, on first glance, very little of my art has anything to do with any blatant expression of the gospel.  On the other hand, ALL of my art is influenced by the pervasive reality of God in my life.  All of my art reflects that,albeit in subtle, even sneaky ways.  I am a believer in breaking some of the obvious laws of Christian art ("no smokin', no drinkin', no sex, no rock n' roll") in order to lay a more effective groundwork for the deeper, far more meaningful truths of what it means to have a relationship with the living God.  I love the idea that Jesus was the sort of guy who hung out with the dregs, who abhorred following rules for rules' sake.  I don't think, when he spoke, that he told everybody he was a "Christian lecturer" (and not just because the word "Christian" hadn't been invented yet, smarty-pants).  I think he approached them as a guy who had an awesome true story to tell people.  To me, that's what being a Christian and an artist is all about. It isn't just finding ways to cram the gospel into everything-it's about letting the gospel color every aspect of our existence, hinting and suggesting, showing how the security and joy and hope of knowing God effects every facet of our lives.

            In short, maybe people will seek God most by seeing his overall shape in the body of our "collected works", regardless of what our medium is, even if it's just the canvas of our day-to-day lives.  Maybe forcing them to look at a big neon Jesus sign, instead of the subtle but pervasive imprint that the real Jesus leaves on our lives, will only blind them and turn them away.  Maybe.  But what do I know?  I grew up listening to Christian rock music.

- George Lippert

Expectations

I so struggle with expectations. As a mother, a wife, a friend and a human being, it is impossible not to.

I have very high expectations of myself. I can let expectations dictate my life. I worry if I am doing enough with my boys. I question my motives as to how I mother them and they cause me to pass unfair judgements on my day. I have what I think are reasonable expectations for my day; including, but not limited to: Getting up earlier than the kids. Spending some quality time with God. Planning the perfect projects for my kids. Working on a creative project of my own. Spending quality time with each of my three boys each day. Keeping the house in a perpetual sense of order. Serving three square meals with impeccable detail to nutrition. The list goes on.

Without a doubt, I fail.

What's unfortunate is, I find it next to impossible to watch TV, surf the internet, read a magazine, or chat on the phone, without having new expectations thrust upon me, and old ones reinforced.

There are those that come from society: You must stay at home with your kids. You must be an amazing multi-tasker. You must lose your baby weight quickly. Your kids reflect your works, they must be clean, well-behaved, and hit every milestone at the correct time.

Those that come from family: You must achieve, or surpass, the level of supermom your mom obtained (or you perceived her to have), or, conversely, you strive to avoid her example at all possible costs. You must sit and ponder the expectations family members pass on to you.

And those that come from friends: You must always personify the expectations you think your friends have of you.

And it's not that any of the sources are purposely trying to drive me insane, at least not individually, but they are there, they are ever-present, and I let them scratch and claw their way in on a regular basis.

The problem with holding so firmly to the expectations I have for myself are two-fold. First is guilt. When I do not live up to these self-imposed expectations, I feel guilty. All of the could-haves and should-haves hold me captive with guilt. It is such a powerful tool the enemy can use to keep me down. However, this is not how it was meant to be. Christ came so that I may have life, and have it to the fullest (John 10:10). So, then, how does guilt fit in to that picture? It doesn't. God didn't invent "mom-guilt".

Second is losing site of God and His expectations of me when I keep my eyes fixed on the expectations of everyone else and those I've created for myself. This is not a pretty place for me to dwell. So what does God expect of me as a mother/parent? 1 Corinthians 1:30-31 says, "It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God–that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Therefore, as it is written: 'Let him who boasts boast in the Lord.'"

So, all the expectation He has for me, it is not my deeds, nor my own expectations, or those of others, but Christ in me. Christ alone makes me acceptable. All I have to do is live in His acceptance of me.  I need to focus my eyes on Him and not on the expectations of others.  To try and be the hands and feet of Christ to my boys.  He wants my actions and words to reflect those of Him alone.

When put that way, it seems simpler. Yeah, there are many days that I am hardly a picture of Christ to our boys, but I have to say, it is more of a relief to live in His acceptance than to put on my SuperMom cape with all it's expectations.

– jill

The Return

Hello everyone.  Sorry for the breif haitus, but we are back.  For starters, if you haven't heard it yet, check out Zack's sermon "Blessed are those who mourn."  I found it powerful, moving, and feel completely unqualified to add any other comments about it in written form.  As our President would say, it is above my pay grade.

Now for something that isn't.

I have found my favorite record in a very long time.  I generally don't like ranking things but music is an exception to that policy for me.  It isn't often that an album comes out that could surpass one of the albums on my list of ten I would take with me on my proverbial desert island with an audiophile quality sound system, electricity, food, fresh water, television/dvd player (make that blu-ray) and a copy of The Big Lebowski.  Without further adou is it Veckatimest by Grizzly Bear.  Enjoy this clip, but more importantly GET THE RECORD - at least if you like the song.

Here are some reviews if you don't want to take my word for it.

We will be back tomorrow (Tuesday) with regular posts.  Happy Music Monday.

Back Up Soon