"Let love be genuine... bless those who persecute you... Live in harmony with one another... Never be wise in your own sight..." -Paul (just being mean)
I thought it'd be fun to do a thought inventory for Philip today (then I woke up this morning). If I begin with the not so precise moment I rub sleep from my aching eyeballs, look around and try to make sense of where I am, what I'm lying on and whose body this is I find myself in, my thinking goes somewhat like this: "Where are you? In your room. Who are you? An older version of yourself. What are you supposed to do today? Ohhhhh crap!!!"
Typically I mutter "crap" or some similar version to myself as a host of worries, fears and anxieties rush at me like a very, very mad herd of rhinos. This drives me to God. I have no where else to go. To hop out of bed is to be trampled into a little red pulp.
But once I'm up and about, I feel a little bit better and begin to think about how I can make this the best possible day for me that I've ever had. My thinking on any given moment in an average day goes something like this: "Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me... Hum di dum... Something else? No... Me, me, me!!!"
That's why the Gospel is so interminably frustrating for the human being. It tells us that life isn't about us, our personal satisfaction and having the perfect me day (the audacity!). I like me days. And frankly, I don't like the gospel a lot of the time. It sort of distracts me from my purpose: Me.
Me is a small world, in a small galaxy, that's ever shrinking and not expanding, whatever you smarty pants scientists believe. Planet me is in very real trouble of implosion. That is precisely why the Gospel is good news, though it can feel very, very bad.
To extend my metaphor, there's another universe, of which me has always been a part, that revolves around someone else - God. His expanding universe encompasses me, wrests me from my small insular selfishness and basically just flat out rescues me from my collapsing world.
"Me-ness" put God on the cross. "Other-ness" is the new thought of my redeemed mind. I guess that's one more reason that the Gospel is our only hope.
If we'd all only pay attention to the timeless epic that is Star Wars, we'd take the posture towards God that Princess Leia does in her desperate plea for help, "Help us Obi-Wan you are our only hope." Then maybe God would spare our home planet from being blown up by the Death-Star. Then maybe we wouldn't have to be slow roasted by Ewoks to learn humility. Or maybe we wouldn't have to fly around in the "fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy" listening to a Wookie moaning in our ear. Then again, maybe not.
I thought it'd be fun to do a thought inventory for Philip today (then I woke up this morning). If I begin with the not so precise moment I rub sleep from my aching eyeballs, look around and try to make sense of where I am, what I'm lying on and whose body this is I find myself in, my thinking goes somewhat like this: "Where are you? In your room. Who are you? An older version of yourself. What are you supposed to do today? Ohhhhh crap!!!"
Typically I mutter "crap" or some similar version to myself as a host of worries, fears and anxieties rush at me like a very, very mad herd of rhinos. This drives me to God. I have no where else to go. To hop out of bed is to be trampled into a little red pulp.
But once I'm up and about, I feel a little bit better and begin to think about how I can make this the best possible day for me that I've ever had. My thinking on any given moment in an average day goes something like this: "Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me... Hum di dum... Something else? No... Me, me, me!!!"
That's why the Gospel is so interminably frustrating for the human being. It tells us that life isn't about us, our personal satisfaction and having the perfect me day (the audacity!). I like me days. And frankly, I don't like the gospel a lot of the time. It sort of distracts me from my purpose: Me.
Me is a small world, in a small galaxy, that's ever shrinking and not expanding, whatever you smarty pants scientists believe. Planet me is in very real trouble of implosion. That is precisely why the Gospel is good news, though it can feel very, very bad.
To extend my metaphor, there's another universe, of which me has always been a part, that revolves around someone else - God. His expanding universe encompasses me, wrests me from my small insular selfishness and basically just flat out rescues me from my collapsing world.
"Me-ness" put God on the cross. "Other-ness" is the new thought of my redeemed mind. I guess that's one more reason that the Gospel is our only hope.
If we'd all only pay attention to the timeless epic that is Star Wars, we'd take the posture towards God that Princess Leia does in her desperate plea for help, "Help us Obi-Wan you are our only hope." Then maybe God would spare our home planet from being blown up by the Death-Star. Then maybe we wouldn't have to be slow roasted by Ewoks to learn humility. Or maybe we wouldn't have to fly around in the "fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy" listening to a Wookie moaning in our ear. Then again, maybe not.
1 comment:
...but I was going to Tashi station to pick up some power converters!" - your wife
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