Slumber and death

In a possible leak of what I will talk about tomorrow at the PA meeting, I feel compelled to share this quote from A Resilient Life by Gordon MacDonald:

"Humility is freedom from thinking about yourself."

It may be empowering to frame humility in this context. I assure you, this is the message that Christ conveyed with his life in regards to selflessness. He said that we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free. What many do not read on to find out is that the Jews were stunned when he said this. Basically, they scratched their heads and replied,

"Free? Free from what?"

From sin, of course. That's what he said. From egocentrism-- from self-centered, narcissistic, God-usurping self-concentration. The truth will set us free. That truth walked out of the city with death strapped to his back and assured everyone who followed him that this life is not for us to hold onto, it is for us to give. The truth is humility, it's selflessness. He said,

"If I didn't have to do this, I wouldn't. But I entrust myself to your will, Father."

Well, shoot. No one said it was easy. I won't romanticize daily suffering-- it is what it is, and it sucks. For some reason, the powerful drug that enflamed the bones of prophets and apostles has been turned into hopeless, helpless tylenol PM... good for minor aches, pains, and sleeping. I noticed it in chapel today: in myself and in everyone else. We're asleep.

I don't think I've ever read anything in the Bible that says anything good about people who fall asleep.

Tradition supports the humble. Scripture stands behind the selfless. Reason causes us to desire it. Experience makes us know it is good. I don't see anywhere we can fight this, brothers and sisters. We've got to wake up and free ourselves from thinking about ourselves!

Course correction

I don't mind the dark. I'm serious. When I walk into places unknown, I embrace the fear and the reality that I don't know where I'm going. It's fun for me to fly without a flightplan. But when the lights click on, that's when I'm disquieted. I fidget, and I can't sit still for the life of me.

Maybe walking in the dark leads me to believe that God will provide everything I need to live the way I think he wants me to. Of course, he does provide, but not always what I want. And when where I thought I was going becomes a lot farther away, it's easy for me to be discouraged. Optimism is easier when you can't see the destination.

Then, in the dark, I don't see who I am. I assume that living my life that way pleases God, because of the chances I take and the trials I face. I can tell myself that the way I've set up this furniture in my room has a special spiritual method, and it's good because of how my life happens around it in the reaching dark. The light reveals how completely unsatisfied I am with this room.

Don't take this the wrong way: this is not some kind of existential crisis. I know who I am, and I know where I came from. But I feel like where I want to be is even farther away than it used to be. Was this planned, or was this because of my lack of a plan? Time will tell. In the mean time, no matter how tired I am, no matter how the path is revealed, no matter how sick I get, I can continue to run forward. And I will.

Changing direction, I think, doesn't mean I was rebelling-- it means I was going somewhere. The wrong direction, though.