Mr. Anxious

"...casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you." - 1 Peter 5:7

I get anxious all the time. Little things make me anxious. Big things make me anxious. Even as I'm typing, I'm anxious about an errand I have to run today. (I've got to drive my bosses kids to the airport. What if I can't find his house? What if I get in a wreck? What if I can't find the airport? What if I run over my boss, back over his kids and then a plane wrecks on all of us?)

If I was in a Mr. Man book I'd be "Mr. Anxious". And since my favorite colour is blue, I'd be a hunched over blue dude with huge blood-shot popping eyes and big hands that I could wring constantly.

The verse gives Mr. Anxious hope. Its set in the context of Peter's last few pieces of advice to a group of Christians who were being persecuted. And prior to telling them to cast their anxieties on God, he encourages them to humble themselves. The two seem to be connected.

When I'm anxious, I'm not being humble. I'm trying to control things that are outside my control. I'm playing God.

I often go on and on about my fears, worries and anxieties, all the while thinking I'm being honest, transparent and humble. Now I may be the first two but I'm not humble. Humility is knowing my place before a God who cares for me.

And as I'm sitting here, I'm thinking, "Man, do I live in a constant state of sin or what?" Pretty much. But I serve a God who cares for me and each day is shaping me. All I've got to do is what Peter says earlier in chapter 4 - "entrust (your) soul to a faithfull Creator while doing good."

"Lord have mercy on me a sinner. Oh and have mercy on Mr. Anxious too."

(picture found at themistermen.co.uk)

I Done Sawed the Sun Rise

"6:15! You've got to be joking Philip."

Nope, this morning I was out on the trails near my house riding around on my mountain bike. Since the sun didn't rise till about 6:45 it was pretty hairy for a while. As I could barely see the trail, I had the death grip going on my handle-bars. But as I always say, "What's life without adventure and the chance that you will go splat into a tree?" It's terrifying, in case you're wondering.

I finally found a spot where I could watch the sunrise, something I've only intentionally done a handful of times, as I am barely human in the mornings (or some would say way too human)and feel that I owe it to humanity to spare it of my presence. I usually shift my head away from the drool on my pillow and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, this morning as it began to get light, for the longest time (the length of a sunrise, to be precise) I stared off into the west and wondered where the stupid sun was (yet another reason I'm not a scientist).

About the time the sun finally arrived, or at least signs of the sun, since it was behind me [I say "finally" because it was 42 degrees and my sweat was beginning to freeze to my chin (not really but it adds to the drama)], a thought hit me. Imagine that! I don't think I've ever had a though at 6:45 before. It was a personal thought record!

Here's the thought: As I stared up into the sky, I realized just how tiny I was and wondered if when Jesus returns, I'm really going to have to go and meet him in the clouds. The prospect really scares me. I really don't like heights, and wonder if God could arrange for me to go up in a ship or something a little easier to handle.

I have to keep reminding myself that this Jesus-returning-thingy is real stuff. It's not some fairy tale, lovey-dovey, make-me-nauseous, Disney inspired reality. It's real. It's not Disney World's new Harry Potter Land, although that's really, really ridiculously cool too.

Now that I've taken some time to reflect on Psalm 103, a couple of things strike me. God "removes our sins as far as the East is from the West," so apparently he wouldn't look off to the west for the sunrise.

But I want to focus on the idea that God knows our frame and remembers that we are dust, for it is really comforting to me. He knows that we are tiny. He knows that I am afraid of meeting him in the clouds. He knows that the thought makes me want to tinkle in my pants (my four-year old - Teya - would love that I just wrote this!).

"He knows that I am dust"(and liquid).

Today he knows that I'm afraid of many things: I'm afraid of calling people and asking for money. I'm afraid of my own lack of motivation and responsibility. I'm afraid of how I may hurt people today as I'm so selfish.

"He knows that I am dust" (and liquid).

God regards me. He considers me and has compassion on me "as a Father has compassion on his children." As far as those tiny clouds that were lit by the sun rising behind me are above the mud I was standing in and I was made from, so great is his love for me.

As many of you may know, I've struggled with assurance of salvation for a long time. As I take time to meditate on God's love, that fear dissapates. It begins to not even matter. Questions like: "Did I say the right words? Am I really in his will? Do I adhere to a doctrine that saves? Do I think that I'm sinful enough?" begin to slide right off of me, as an assurance of God's great love begins to fill my heart.

That's one reason I think that the Psalmest says that God's love is steadfast. It's sure footing for us and in it we will not fall. This is helful for me on days when I'm scared of going to meet Jesus in the clouds.

I'm sure he'll somehow make it a little less scarry. Maybe, since he remembers that I'm dust, he'll give me a little patch of dust to stand on and levitate it up to him. Who knows? It says in my ESV that God remembers that I'm dust, so I dare you to question me.

Note on picture: That's not me. I was riding in the opposite direction.

My Face Hurts!

"A man's wisdom makes his face shine, and the hardness of his face is changed." - Teacher in Ecclesiastes

I was listening to NPR on the way to my office. I don't know why I listen to NPR, it just makes me feel stupid most of the time. One reason I listen is I've been duped by the false belief that if I listen long enough I'll start getting smarter through some sort of osmosis-like-radio-wave miracle. It hasn't happened yet. I'll let you know. Or perhaps my blog posts will become super-duper brilliant and you will know!

They were talking about opera this morning. I'm starting to suspect that NPR has a secret list of things that they talk about in order to make the commoner feel extra stupid. As they blabbed esoterically on about opera, one of the hosts said in a very matter of fact manner how we all have two faces - one we show to the world and one that really is us. I'm thinking, "Ouch, this isn't the kind of material they should share on a Monday morning."

Sadly, this (smarty-pants) radio host (meanie) has me pinned. Yesterday I cheerfully shared with two Sunday School classes what we're called to in ministry with Student Venture. And yesterday I was a ball of nerves, anxiety, comparison and fear. I definitely have two faces. Melissa can confirm it.

It's not that I'm a total hypocrite. I confess my hypocrisy hypocritically before every hypocritical message I share. God help me!

No don't get me wrong, I believe I can share cheerfully about God's call on me without hypocrisy. He has done and is doing something exciting in us and in our ministry with teens. But sometimes I really, really don't feel up to the task. Sometimes my face positively hurts from my personality disorder!

It's in these times that God reminds me that he's about the transformation in my life of giving me just one face. A face that shines the same light before men (to get biblical) that it shines before Melissa, my children and is reflected back to me in the mirror every morning.

That's why I love the Gospel. The gap between who we really are and what we show to the world isn't supposed to be there, it's supposed to disappear. We can be ourselves the more we let God's wisdom shape who we are. Our faces, as the verse above says, can move from being hard to actually shining!

There is hope for people like me on Mondays. The week I face isn't impossible. I don't have to put up all these pretensions to face the world. I can simply turn to God and ask him to take my anxiety, fear, comparison, and my host of hypocritical sins that I feel I must hide and grant me his face of peace, his face of Shalom.

Here I KNOW I don't know what I'm talking about. It is very mysterious. But the very grace that already payed for our fake faces, is now at work on us, giving us the reality of a new face. I wonder if this is what CS Lewis was talking about in "Till We Have Faces?" I bet it is... Yeah, I figured it out! On a Monday too!

Having a Case of the "MUNDAYS"?

I love writing. Especially on Mondays. Maybe I'm trying to avoid work, or I simply have an intellectual itch I need to scratch. But a lot of yucky stuff hits the fan on Mondays for me and I can't think of a better way to clean it all up than to write.

Once I get words down in black and white, I can begin to make sense of my internal life. If you're like me, you may wonder around muttering to yourself something that my aunt over-heard my uncle saying to himself, "So many thoughts running through my head." I bet she caught him on a Monday.

Mondays are ominous for the western man/woman, maybe even more ominous for the western man-woman (ha). They represent all the stuff that's got to get done in order to earn more stuff. The idea being that if we pile up enough material stuff, the other less tangible stuff, like troubling emotions, won't be able to climb over the piles we've made. It's definitely a rat race for most of us. Even for missionaries.

Mondays always remind me of a line in the movie Office Space, where an annoying lady in the office says to the poor stressed out protagonist, "Aw, it looks like somebody is having a case of the MUNDAYS." Later in the movie, he relates this to his buddy who works construction, asking if anyone has ever said something like this to him. His response is classic, "Na dude, hell no, I'd reckon somebody would get there ass kicked for saying something like that man" (Pardon my French. Ever notice how adept construction workers are at French?). Thus the picture of cooperate cubicle America is complete.

My guess is that a mixture of worry, fear and boredom fill the cubicles of this big country. That's why I believe the show The Office has been such a hit. It parodies all the stuff that just makes our stomachs tighten up at the inhumanity and ludicrous lives we live in these strange little offices.

Right now, I'm really blessed. I don't have to sit in a conventional office. I even get to blog! But I'm currently raising support to leave Chattanooga and slip into "cubicle world." As a support staff member with Student Venture, my guess is I'll be thumping my head on the desk with the best of them before my first week is over. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to get to our headquarters in Orlando and begin my job in earnest: writing about the Gospel for young people, but I have a picture of a cubicle in my mind that I just can't shake. There's something inhuman about them.

I've related before how much I love the outdoors. Recently I've been getting up early enough to see the sunrise. Or at least see part of it. It's a magnificently refreshing thing, especially on Mondays. The reason for me that it's so refreshing is that I'm reminded of the fact that I'm simply a creature in creation under a creator. In those moments I'm reminded of my place, and most of the worries that accompany Mondays fade into oblivion like the darkness being chased away by the light.

God's light and truth encourages us not to worry. The most common command for us creatures in the Bible is to fear not. And here we live in a culture that thrives on fear. And this robs us of what it means to be truly human.

I hope that today you are reminded that there's a deeper reality than your MUNDAY and you can smirk at all the memos, to-do lists and restlessness that may rule your office. If you accept the real reality that your Creator reigns, you can happily accept you are but a small creature, special in his eyes and commanded not to worry. Or in my case to take your truckload of worries to him.

I hope this helps somebody. I worry it won't...

"Quick, get to the Stronghold!"

The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Psalm 9

As someone reading my last blog might of guessed, I've been going through a difficult time. God's felt distant, I've felt useless and have been spending an inordinate amount of time trying to comfort myself with what the world offers.

Well, as I was reading a rivetting novel the other night (Suzanne Collins, Hunger Games. Warning: Don't start reading because you won't put it down and it will consume your every waking moment as well as some of your sleeping ones! So check it out.) Melissa casually mentioned that maybe I should open my Bible and read a bit. The audacity!

I did, all but huffing and puffing about simplistic, spiritual and legalistic responses to suffering. "I'll probably just open up to Leviticus," I thought. I didn't. I opened up to Psalm 9 and read the words above.

I was reminded of my stronghold, that even in times like these, when I have an unresponsive and dead heart, God is my refuge. I went on to skim through Psalm 10 (I had to skim because I wanted to get back to my novel). In Psalm 10 I heard David asking these words, "Why, O LORD, do you stand far away? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?" "Exactly!" I thought.

But then in verses 14 and 17 I read the words, "But you do see" and "Oh Lord, you hear the desire of the afflicted." David knew that while God felt far off, while he seemed to hide himself in times of trouble, he wasn't distant at all. He was present, he did see and hear all that was going on in David's heart and life.

Do I believe this? Most of the time I don't. I'm sort of stuck on the first question, "LORD, why do you stand far off?" But the truth is he doesn't. That's why he's my rock and fortress. A resting place for the suffering and oppressed.

So how do we believe all this Psalm craziness in the 21st century? It is the 21st century after all, and our suffering doesn't include rocks, sticks and the occasional spear heading for your head.

I've often blown off the Psalms because of this. David knew real suffering. But the more I read, the more I think that his enemies were often in his head, or spiritual in nature. He had too many enemies for all of them to be guys with dissheveled beards, hanging around and slapping the occasional camel with the backs of their swords. We have internal enemies and an enemy that wants nothing but to bring us down and disconnect us from our father.

So I believe God is directly addressing this suffering and discontent that so often reigns in my heart through these Psalms. It's encouraging stuff, and it's not just cheap therapy, but a real and lasting hope that we have a God who is a "stronghold for the oppressed." My desire is to take my restlessness and suffering to the only healer I know. And for the record, Melissa was right for once.