The Marriage Idol, Part 2

Reexamining some Ideas

In Part 1, I introduce the beautiful complexity of identity, suggesting its influence not only on self-image, but how an individual perceives others and how others in turn perceive that individual. As I began to write this second post[1], I realized that before I can present the heart of the matter, I should reexamine some ideas to further develop the context from which I am writing. These ideas are love, marriage, and idolatry.

What is Love?

Marriage at its healthiest and most inspiring cannot be understood detached from love. In fact, a meaningful human existence cannot exist without love. But what is love? Its most powerful manifestation is God (YHWH), in history made most tangible through Jesus of Nazareth, called Christ, who lived, died, and resurrected on earth as a particular man in a particular time in history (this concept summarized succinctly in Philippians 2:1-11). In short, God is love: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love” (I John 4:7-8).

God’s love is ultimately a call to an intimate relationship with our Creator. In this, one is welcomed to a life of belonging—not only as a child of God, but an heir of His goodness. In this, one joins a global community called the Church, which echoes God’s Kingdom on earth through participating in His “Great Campaign.” This call offers an individual and communal purpose characterized by hope and meaning. I expound upon this in “What is Love?”, relate it more directly to my personal identity in “A Confession,” and consider its effectiveness in “Hunger vs.Ambition.”

Or as the apostle Paul of Tarsus writes, “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends” (I Corinthians 13:4-8a).

Overall, it is important to remember that God chooses to love us, despite our frailty—our propensity for fear, selfishness, hurting ourselves and others. Choice. God’s love is a gift of immense grace. For those who choose to follow and emulate the sacrificial servant leadership of Jesus Christ, there is a call to love others in the same way.

What is Marriage?

As one writer expresses it so simply and profoundly: “You don’t fall in love. You discover it. Then it’s built” (see “No One Really Falls in Love”). Writer Benjamin Sledge adds his own honest perspective in “The Single Greatest Lesson We Should Know about Love (But Forgot).” Or Tim Keller might add, “You Never Marry the Right Person.”

Marriage does not just happen to someone, in other words. It is another example of choice.

I explore the idea of marriage extensively in my three-part series, “Why Marry Someone?” so will avoid restating it all here. In short, marriage is a consolidation of love’s many forms, such as compassion, friendship, and perhaps most uniquely, physical intimacy. Marriage represents a mysterious, intense expression of a particularly kind of relationship between two people. But it is not the only expression.

What is Idolatry?

The conceptual spark for my writing about “The Marriage Idol” was Josh Fox’s analysis of the Old Testament narrative of the Golden Calf (Exodus 32; 1 Corinthians 10:1-8).[2] It led me to reconsider certain experiences and conversations about marriage. From golden calf to romance—a strange progression, I know.

It is important to consider what an idol is. The Oxford English Dictionary begins to define idol as an “image or representation of a god used as an object of worship.” God is defined as “1. (in Christianity and other monotheistic religions) the creator and ruler of the universe and source of all moral authority; the supreme being; 2. (in certain other religions) a superhuman being or spirit worshipped as having power over nature or human fortunes; a deity; [or] 3.1. A thing accorded the supreme importance appropriate to a god.” The last definition is the broadest, but may be most helpful in this discussion. Furthermore, note that the verb, worship, means to “Show reverence and adoration for (a deity).”

In the orthodox Christian faith[3], God is to be directly worshipped as opposed to our worshipping some representation of Him. While there are icons and images portraying Jesus Christ or the narratives of the Bible, and while a Bible may be placed at the center of a church’s place of worship, all usually serve to remind and teach; they are not to be confused with idols. There are nuances that could be discussed about iconography, church architecture, and liturgy, but that exceeds the scope of this current writing.

In short, for the Christ-follower at least, to worship anything other than God as preeminent is to slip into idolatry. In a broader sense, it is about considering what my identity is grounded on.

For example, in the story of the Golden Calf, a majority of the Israelites invest in a shifty lie that lingers today—that God is holding out on me or us. As happened to the Israelites—in this story impatient and uncertain about Moses’ return from Mt. Sinai—this can lead to rushing God’s timing and/or to settling for less than His best, substituting Him with something else, which concurrently attempts to rob God of His glory. Granted, it can be difficult to accept a delay to personal hopes and expectations. Instead of trusting God, it is tempting to turn to something more tangible or that seems controllable. It can be hard to trust God, especially when it is difficult to understand His will. It is nice to be in control.

So in a way, idolatry is about control. In the tension between faith and fear, there is a struggle for control. Granted, some idols develop from things God intended to be good. Some common ones may be romantic love when distorted by the lie that it completes me, money when masquerading as a means to attain personal security, and success when it comes to define my worth. Perhaps even identity itself can be idolized. For how many people obsess over their image, physical or digital when provided the means to change, curate, customize and/or edit how they are each presented (e.g. on social media)?

To avoid the snare of idolatry, we are called to remember what God is like—namely, that He is not one to hold out on us. After all, the good news (gospel) of Jesus Christ is that God gave all of himself to free and protect us from our own limitations, corrupting excuses, frailty (see John 3:16-21).

God’s love proposes the truest of marriages: intimacy with our Creator. To reject this love is to choose something other than God for meaning. As God is the origin of all that is good, to reject Him is, therefore, perhaps to settle for an imitation of good. It is to choose an idol.

But that is not exactly what I mean by “The Marriage Idol.” While it could be a start to understanding why so many marriages crumble, including in the Church, I have something subtler in mind, and more related to being single or how people engage with those who are. While to reject God is the most self-destructive choice a person can make, for his or her past, present, and future; there may be a social trend that is proving almost as damaging to individual identity.

Read the Final Part

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[1] Originally, I only intended for there to be one post for this whole idea.

[2] “The Call” (Part 12). Sermon at WestGate Church on 22 July, 2018. Available at: http://www.westgatechurch.org/westgate-teaching/thecall-week12.

[3] Orthodox = “Following or conforming to the traditional or generally accepted rules or beliefs of a religion, philosophy, or practice” (Oxford English Dictionary).

The Hope of Fantasy

To build further upon what I explored in "Is Fiction Fake" and shared in "Art is the grandchild of God", here in a great artist’s words is a literary vision framing the hope of Fantasy:

“But the ‘consolation’ of fairy-stories [Fantasy] has another aspect than the imaginative satisfaction of ancient desires [for example, the desire to visit, free as a fish, the deep sea; or the longing for the noiseless, gracious, economical flight of a bird . . . the desire to converse with other living things . . . the Escape from Death]. Far more important is the Consolation of the Happy Ending. . . . [Or more precisely] the eucatastrophic tale [which] is the true form of fairy-tale, and its highest function.

“The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending: or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous ‘turn’ (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially ‘escapist’, nor ‘fugitive’. . . . It does not deny the existence of decatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief. . . .

“In such stories when the sudden ‘turn’ comes we get a piercing glimpse of joy, and heart’s desire, that for a moment passes outside the frame, rends indeed the very web of story, and lets a gleam come through. . . .

“The peculiar quality of the ‘joy’ in successful Fantasy can thus be explained as a sudden glimpse of the underlying reality or truth. . . . in the ‘eucatastrophe’ we see in a brief vision that the answer [to the question, ‘Is it true?’] may be greater [than merely being true in that secondary fairy-story world]—it may be a far-off gleam or echo of evangelium in the real world. . . .

“The Gospels contain a fairy story, or a story of a larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories. They contain many marvels—peculiarly artistic, beautiful, and moving: ‘mythical’ in their perfect, self-contained significance; and among the marvels is the greatest and most complete conceivable eucatastrophe. But this story has entered History and the primary world; the desire and aspiration of sub-creation has been raised to the fulfillment of Creation.

"The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. It has pre-eminently the ‘inner consistency of reality’. There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many skeptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. To reject it leads either to sadness or to wrath. . . .

“The Evangelium has not abrogated legends; it has hallowed them, especially the ‘happy ending’. The Christian has still to work, with mind as well as body, to suffer, hope, and die; but he may now perceive that all his bents and faculties have a purpose, which can be redeemed. So great is the bounty with which he has been treated that he may now, perhaps, fairly dare to guess that in Fantasy he may actually assist in the effoliation and multiple enrichment of creation. All tales may come true; and yet, at the last, redeemed, they may be as like and as unlike the forms that we give them as Man, finally redeemed, will be like and unlike the fallen that we know.”

- J.R.R. Tolkien
From his essay, "On Fairy-Stories" (originally shared as a lecture in 1939), as published in The Monsters and the Critics 

Hunger vs. Ambition

Our mission as disciples of Jesus Christ is not faithfulness—the method is faithfulness—but to be fruitful. In Jesus’ parable about the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), it is fruitfulness that garners affirmation from the Master. For even the servant who buried his talent was faithful in protecting the investment. It is just that he did not steward its growth.

A life of faithfulness without fruitfulness is, in other words, a passive existence. Jesus calls his disciples, therefore, to a life of hunger. Hunger is “a craving or urgent need for [something]” (Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary). It is about being hungry for more of God, pressing further into the center of His presence. Pressing more into him, we become more fruitful.

What does it mean to be fruitful in following Jesus? To begin with, “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law” (Galatians 5:22-23).

Faithfulness in the presence of God begets fruitfulness—connecting not only with Him, but with other people through His Spirit—which in turn begets more faithfulness.

Hunger is not to be confused with ambition, however. Ambition is defined as “an ardent desire for rank, fame, or power; desire to achieve a particular end; a desire for activity or exertion” (Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary), which often is about circumnavigating the presence of God in an aim for acclaimed productivity. For example, when leadership only measures its church’s growth or the effectiveness of its ministry techniques quantitatively, which is also an exercise that tempts ego, there is a great risk of neglecting God as the compass—not to mention overlooking the more mysterious, subjective, and qualitative wonders of human relationship (i.e. spiritual fruit).

The journey of Jesus Christ’s disciples and Church, therefore, must principally be to press ever further into the heart of God. Hunger looks to engage in relationship, in presence, in encounter—faithfulness. But pursing the presence of God is only the first part of the story. It must lead to fruitfulness to find wholeness. Relationship with God must lead to relationship with others, ripe with all the blessings that Paul addresses in Galatians 5:22-23. For when that happens, life brightens like a sunrise with renewed purpose and beauty.

Soli deo gloria. Amen.

Inspired by Andy Robinson's sermon, “Called to Fruitfulness” (Kings Church Horsham, 9 April, 2017).

A Confession

Maybe I have been trying too hard to speak your language.

But I want you to understand something; that as your faith (or heart) is guided by your beliefs—or worldview, or whatever you wish you to name it—so is mine. My heart and mind walk hand-in-hand because only when they are together do I know wisdom: how to not only grasp and seek to understand truth, but to live consciously, proactively, and courageously by it.

My foundational and ultimate truth is that YHWH, God, the Creator of the Universe, desires an intimate relationship with me, with all Mankind. Since I was a child, I have chosen to embrace that love—to follow it. That path is mysterious, beautiful, often difficult and uncertain due to internal and external influences. But I do not walk it alone.

The Spirit of God walks with me, teaches me through God’s Word—the words of shepherds, kings, poets, prophets, and fishermen who communed with Him; with, above all, Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ (savior) who was God incarnate in the land of Palestine centuries ago; with Jesus’ disciples who sought to share and understand his teaching; with the many who have followed Jesus since then. The Holy Spirit is real, powerful, inspiring, and peace-giving. God.

Such love fills the infinite well of goodness in my heart. I feel deeply, but I also think deeply. Heart and mind together, as a whole man, I thus “put myself out there” each day, seizing each opportunity as best as I can. That does not mean that I do so well, or that by being myself I am accepted by everyone I meet. Sometimes in giving myself so freely, so openly—without most reservations—I can overwhelm them. They do not know what to do with me, or what to make of me. Can I be trusted?

I am not entirely free from doubt or mistrust myself. My life is textured with many scars.

Sometimes I even feel like a shadow. In giving myself entirely to God, I wonder what is left that is truly me. But then I remember how God has equipped and is equipping me for life. I am a writer, musician, photographer—an artist. I am an athlete, outdoor adventurer, coach, and teacher. These are just a few of my points of connection with the world, presumably the most fruitful gardens of my work. I pour my life and love into them. They help shape meaning and purpose. I want to know as many people as I can, share as much of life as we can together—to affirm that love and community are real.

But even if it is not me that someone wants, I am confident in the love and intimacy I share with God. He is both within my heart and without: present everywhere. I am never alone, nor need to be afraid. I know that I am loved unconditionally by the Creator of the Universe, manifested in glimpses and caresses by His creation: people, nature, everything. I long for everyone to know such tender, inspiring love, such beauty. It is the foundational rock of my faith. My soul stands upon that kind of vigor. I pray that what I build upon it is a light to others.

One of the main lessons from Jesus is to love one another as he loved us. While we need not necessarily do so exactly as he did—i.e. suffer and die, for there can only be one ultimate savior—the principle truth is that of serving each other. Jesus symbolized this by washing his disciples’ feet, which was a humble service in his culture.

As I follow Jesus; to “put myself out there”, therefore, means to begin loving in the framework of service. This is apparently countercultural. Putting the needs of others before myself, seeking first to understand before being understood, is enigmatic to some and suspicious to others. Do I have an ulterior motive, they might ask? Too often, I likely do. Nevertheless, God’s grace gives me the capacity to forgive myself. Thus I have an infinite well of love to draw from as I seek to share that gift with others. For the nature of a gift is that it must be shared.

Many do not take it. They do not understand what I am offering. They still distrust it. Who serves others unconditionally, after all? Well, Jesus did, and he is my inspiration and guide. But most people rejected and reject Jesus, so should I be surprised if I meet the same withdrawal? The challenges are usually subtle, at times confused by my own selfishness (longing and expectations) and pride (ego). But that does not mean that I should give up.

My heart may ache, nay grieve; I may become weary with doubts, but I find resolve in the hope that I can ultimately overcome because Jesus overcame everything, including death. Death no longer has any mastery over my life. My body will die, but my spirit will live until reunited with a resurrected body. Life will be plagued with sorrow for a while, but that is not the end of the story. In Jesus, there is true triumph, peace, and love. It has already begun to permeate the world. It will be fulfilled completely, unendingly, when Jesus returns to reclaim this world from the Enemy who takes advantage of our human frailty. In the meantime, my identity is fundamentally in Jesus Christ, in faith in his promises. In God. I nurture hope and courage—confidence—in that trust, in that present relationship.

God is here with me now. Sometimes he speaks in words; more often He whispers in more mysterious languages: sight, sounds, touch, taste, the spirit. Most of these messages come through people, His people—any person, whether they realize it or not. He has certainly done so through you. I praise Him for that. I praise Him for you.

I pray for you, for all that you dream to give to people, to be, and to do. That it is good. Know that you are loved; ultimately not because of what you do, but because of who you are. I love you, and I am sure that many feel the same. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing.

I do not expect you to understand all of this. I do not expect you to respond. I just want to “be my true self” once more, offering limited words when action and presence are not available. I want you to begin to grasp that I do not live in fear or desperate need; that I am at peace, aware of both my strengths and weaknesses—seeing beauty and potential in both. As I see in you. As I see in everyone.

Therefore, may God bless you and keep you. May His face shine upon you and give you peace. Now and forevermore.

Amen.

The Problem of Good

For the disciple of Jesus Christ[1], what is the most strategic way to talk about God with one who does not believe? For example, should I aim to first convince him of God’s existence, or should I instead begin by sharing the Gospel, convincing the unbeliever of his need for God?

Limitations

In determining the framework of such a challenging and somewhat elusive subject as God[2], I suspect that the most productive discussions are built on some awareness of each other’s story. This is a root of identity. For example, the initial emphasis of the conversation should not necessarily be on what my, your, or her view of God is, but perhaps how you, she, and I have come to uphold such a view. In other words, what has influenced one’s current conclusions?

The influence of parents, friends, schooling, ethnicity, culture, religion, other religious practitioners; all of these and more contribute to one’s understanding of the world—or rejection of it. This could begin to be defined as worldview, though it is really more expansive than that. It is about accepting truth as neither fully objective nor subjective; that one’s faith or belief is inseparable from his perception of reality. In short, it a conversation built on an awareness of personal limitations.

This awareness should humble my perspective; open it to new ideas, all the while helping quell my ego. In an environment where each person nurtures such openness, there can be productive conversation. Where ego rules, however, there can be none.  

Humility opens me to not only knowing myself better, but to also knowing others—to live in relationship with the potential of community. In a way, potential is like faith. Relationship deepens awareness, furthering understanding. Moreover, understanding can motivate and be motivated by love, which flows from a well of compassion, grace, and a myriad of other mysteries.

In other words, if I dare to know love, I dare to know truth. To pursue understanding and allow it to mature into conscious action (i.e. wisdom) requires courage, but relationship ultimately bolsters courage. Courage influences action. Round and round the stories go, action transforming potential into purpose.

The point is that purpose and relationship are intertwined, which is what helps define values. At the soul of every human being is a common value. Humanity fundamentally shares the same need, or looks toward the same horizon. The language that defines such a need or horizon is what seems to differ the most—whether called love, success, happiness, peace, etc.—which too often conflicts peoples’ understanding of a gift like potential.

Nevertheless, by beginning to recognize each other’s story and limitations as well as how they relate to each other’s potential, purpose, and values—hopefully building community in that awareness—we may begin at last to approach life’s challenging questions with a readiness for healthy discourse, the process of which not only further informs value, but reveals new layers of purpose, potential, and limitations.

Mediums

Most will readily admit that other people influence individual identity. Academically, there are numerous additional ways of trying to further understand such influence, reaching beyond an awareness of one’s identity to broader spheres of the human story through the study of history, sociology, and psychology; or through an exploration of Nature—the space and natural environments we live in—employing reason (e.g. science, philosophy); or by unleashing inclination (e.g. art, athletics).

Many of these mediums are not exclusive to one another, including religion, and all can be thought of as means to furthering wisdom. Still, such realms of study and/or practice leave gaps of understanding. So what shall I do with the lingering uncertainty—the mysterious and unknown?

For the most part, each of us approaches relationships and the aforementioned mediums based on having already concluded one fundamental question: Does God exist?

Problems

Most people struggle with the existence of God because of the evil in the world. In fact, this so-called “problem of evil” also makes many Christian theologians uneasy. There are surges of heated internal debate about how to reconcile the nature of evil with God’s proclaimed goodness and omnipotence. Either way, while some people try to deny the existence of evil, which is practically and logically refutable on most accounts, most people do at least recognize its manifestation in the world—that things are not always right, or feel unbalanced and brutish at times.

Still, I wonder if a conversation about God’s existence needs to be preceded with another question: Do evil and good exist?

If such a question is answered affirmatively then another nuanced one takes form: Is Man inherently good or evil? If Man is inherently evil, but good exists, where does good come from? Or if Man is inherently good, wheredoes evil comes from?

Either way, the tension between good and evil needs to be addressed.

For example, the premise of the so-called “problem of evil” is essentially, Why does evil befall good people? Or why do good people suffer? The problem becomes almost inseparable from a question of God’s existence, particularly His nature. God either exists, but is not good due to the evil He inflicts or allows. Or if He is good, He is passive or weak against another supernatural force that can be called or that stirs evil, therefore leaving God undeserving of worship.

To reconcile God’s goodness with the presence of evil inevitably steers the conversation to discussing the specific attributes of God, especially His will. There is a belief in some Christian communities that God controls all things that happen in this world—the so-called “will of God”—which suggests His active choice to inflict pain on someone or not, for example. I discern this to be a source of most peoples’ problem with God. It is the premise of the problem of evil. This premise, however, can be shown as misleading and overly problematic. There is another way of thinking.

Regardless, the point is that God’s nature, namely his influence in the world, is one of the greatest barriers to not only belief in His existence, but faith in His purpose and the worship of Him as a result.[3]

But what if the original follow-up question focuses not on the problem of evil, but instead on what I will call “the problem of good”[4]? For example, If God exists (or does not exist), then why is there any good in the world? This stresses the framework of the conversation in a different way than the problem of evil.

Framework

Without delving into the layers of answers to the question of God’s existence, or even the problem of good, I am here rather trying to focus solely on a way to frame a conversation about God with an unbeliever.

As I wrote in the beginning, it should not be done hastily or simply. It first requires an awareness of human stories and how they shape the purpose and values of human actions, individual or communal.

Concerning the original question of where to start the conversation—Should I first discuss God’s existence or the Gospel?—I suggest that it depends not only on the guidance of the aforementioned limitations, but on the direction taken in response to the aforementioned problems, which include the question of good.

From there, there are worlds of possibilities to explore: light shining down on an ever-expanding horizon of wonder and mystery.

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[1] A.k.a. Christ-follower, a.k.a. Christian, a.k.a. Believer.

[2] Assuming that the subject has been welcomed to the conversation as opposed to being forced upon it belligerently.

[3] The Bible offers glimpses into that purpose, though the interpretation of the text unfortunately remains a divisive rather than diversifying factor between many churches (i.e. Christian communities).

[4] While I phrased “the problem of good” on my own, it unsurprisingly turns out that the concept is not new to intellectual discourse. A simple search online yields a number of articles, most of which apparently focus on questions of morality, one fascinating one of which can be found here. I am heartened, however, to realize that my concluding framework is not lessened by its late entry into the conversation. 

Being Vulnerable, Part 1

It began with a common question: “How are you feeling today?”

“Really good,” she replied. “And you?”

Throughout the week, my heart had felt tossed about by an agitated sea. I was tired from struggling to stay afloat in uncertain waters, to draw air of hope—of confidence. Should I reply honestly about that, vulnerably?

I hesitated, compelled by the notion that I must exude an indomitable will to secure a friend’s trust. After all, such resolve demonstrates stability of character, garners respect. Being hardcore is attractive. Right?

Or does such a demeanor sacrifice approachability?

My compass has long been defined by perfection[1], even though I know that it cannot be attained. For only God is perfect.[2] Therefore, remembering one friend’s recent words that “beauty must be flawed, [that human] perfection is the idealism of the devil who aspires to be God,” I decided to stop fighting the emotional current for a moment, and see where it might carry me. After all, I live for adventure, which pertains to the heart, faith or inward truth as much as it does to action or outward truth.

Beauty in Imperfection
"My heart has too often felt heavy this week,” I began, but then faltered again, unable to let go of the idea that I needed to exhibit control, strength. Therefore, I added, “But I am trying to let go of the burden—the distraction or confusion, maybe—to be fully present.”

I thought the conversation might end there, for it seemed I had said enough: identifying the problem and promptly addressing it. Besides, entering the waters of my doubts would require endurance—a courage and compassion that is rare, even among friends. I did not want to pull her into the depths with me. Moreover, my uncertainty felt trite. It would be better, simpler, to move the conversation along. Yet at the same time, I knew that I no longer wanted to feel alone in the struggle. I desired an extension of grace—to be allowed to be weak.[3] It was risky. Still, at the same time another voice told me that such longing was selfish.

“What burdens lay on your heart?” she asked.

Was compassion possible in this instance? I treaded carefully, skeptical that she really wanted to know my answer. So I wrote about my discouragement from searching for a third job, which I suspected would lead to a predictable outcome for our conversation. That was safer.

Yet I was also curious. There was courage in me yet: a willingness to prove that my jaded attitude was misguided. Thus I dared to reveal the heart of the matter—well, at least introduce it. I eventually shared that I was realizing how many sensitive relational scars I still had, how many had not healed as much as I thought or would like to convey—how utterly humbling that was. “The vulnerability can feel overwhelming at times, though I feel as though I am supposed to fight hard to overcome it because . . . I don’t know, for some series of reasons that I have long doubted, but struggle to shake off because they persist in trying to frame new experiences.”

Vague, I know. But it was a beginning.

“When it comes to healing, you do not have to fight hard to shake it off because it then makes it harder to shake it off. The more you acknowledge your scars and accept them, love them even, the more they will heal. And those vulnerabilities rise to the surface because they want to heal and be acknowledged, they’ve been bottled up for far too long. Healing is the most loving and gentle experience we can have for ourselves. And just being with it, crying, laughing, whatever it is, allows the heart to mend. It’s ok to feel vulnerable. Surrender to it.”

She was right, of course. I knew that, and know that. I am just not entirely sure how to surrender—beyond the idea of surrendering to God, which is certainly a journey of mystery.[4]

She continued, “Just know that only growth and beauty can come from the pain we feel in our heart. Our soul purposefully lets us have these experiences so that we choose love again. It may even change whatever limiting belief we had held so dearly in our heart.”

I think I understood, but reached a bit further. “Do you believe that relational scars can only be fully mended alone in the company of oneself or that there is also a need for another person or people’s influence to help provide the final healing touch(es)?”

“I believe both.”

As do I.

“Yet even in healing,” I admitted, “I am conscious of the presence of fear or insecurity that tells me my love is trapped in a cycle; that it will be pounded down again and again by wave after wave, slowly exhausted to either drown or become numbed to the point of not feeling anything. The heart is resilient, but the mind is skeptical.” I thanked her for caring, for encouraging, for welcoming me to share a part of my rawer self. I confessed that I was unsure of the appropriate time to open up more in a friendship.

“It’s hard to let your heart open, especially if you have had heartache and pain. But the love is worth it, trust me; well, you don’t have to trust me, but trust love. You can always talk to me about these things. We are friends and that is what friends are for. We all go through this and people need one another. We need to connect. We are human and also beings of love. So don’t feel like it’s ever too soon. A good friend recently reminded me that time does not exist in the heart.”

Trust in Love
I was left wondering what “trust love” really meant. Are any of us sure?  

I mean, I can begin to unpack the idea based on the love of Jesus Christ, of a personal relationship with God, the “I am” of love. I already know love intimately because it dwells in my heart as God’s love, His Holy Spirit, the Spirit or Word of Jesus. It is indeed about trust. I believe that God desires good for me; that He daily offers to fill the infinite well of goodness in my heart. Yet I do not think that I struggle with trusting God so much as I struggle with trusting people. This is the result of numerous relational wounds. Most are now scars, but some are still tender to touch.

So what are my real burdens? What am I afraid of, unsure of? If confusion conflicts the flow of goodness to and from my heart, if therein waits or prowls the devil, what needs to be exposed to the light—cleansed by living water?[5]

These are questions that each of us must try to answer, first alone, I think—with God—before they can be adequately addressed with another person.

Gazing into the mirror of one’s heart with eyes unaverted is intimidating. It requires honesty, which needs courage. But the result of facing that reflection can be such a centering sense of freedom. What is more, it can ease the soul into a place of rest, of peace. Vulnerability can be a posture of the body, mind, or heart separately examined. It can be all of them together, holistically—a unity of self: the soul.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines vulnerable as “capable of being physically wounded; open to attack or damage.” Vulnerability. For a few years now, again and again, most palpably starting with my journey on the Pacific Crest Trail, God has directed me to meditate on and explore the idea of frailty:

Frailty, thy name is Man 

Filled with wonder and heartache,
Bright bonds that stir passion on
Shattered past spirit drowned;
Wash memory devour remorse,
Color each blessing and curse
To deny, embrace, let go?

As a word, frailty connotes struggle in weakness, particularly moral weakness in the face of temptation. I have examined my fallibility as holding the potential for distraction, even suffering. Perhaps I am meant to now take some time to mediate upon its potential for tenderness.

Exposing the scars of my heart, the imperfections, to another person is being vulnerable. Any relationship with another person makes me vulnerable to being wounded further. But is that not an aspect of what love is? No matter how scarred, how calloused, how accustomed to pain I am, the path toward lasting love will get no easier. Love has the power to swell within each of us. It is gorgeous, captivating. But it is also dangerous. That is the nature of adventure.

Beauty in Healing
“Beauty is fundamental,” writes Eugene Peterson in The Jesus Way.

“It is evidence of and witness to the inherent wholeness and goodness of who God is and the way God works. It is life in excess of what we can manage or control. It arrives through a sustained and adorational attentiveness to all that we encounter on the way . . . Beauty does not impose anything that makes either God or us, God’s world or our circumstances, look better or seem better. The beauty is already there: by means of prayer or love or worship (all mysteries) we perceive truth, reality, goodness, salvation—God. . . . It doesn’t explain anything. It reveals what is implicit in every detail of creation and salvation, what has been there all along . . . We recognize it as organic to who God is and the way God works—not an intrusion, not a violation . . . [but reveals] what is right there before us, the inside and outside, the there and the here so that we can be participants in it. Beauty. . . . Salvation is not escape from what is wrong but a deep, reconciling embrace of all that is wrong. . . . Sin is not rejected, it is borne, carried in an act of intercession. . . .

“There is far more to seeing than a functioning iris and retina. Imagination is required to see all that is involved in what is right before our eyes, to see the surface but also to penetrate beneath the surface. Appearances both conceal and reveal: imagination is our means of discerning one from the other so that we get the whole picture. . . . Memory is required to make sense of even the simplest sentence. Language is vast and intricate and living. Memory is our means of keeping the complexities of syllables and syntax coherent, of bringing together the voices of the entire membership, of getting the whole story, of hearing the voice across the room but also the voices from across miles and centuries. . . .

“Without imagination and memory we are reduced to surface and immediacy, we live in a cramped prison cell of the five senses and of the immediate moment. But when imagination and memory are healthily active, the prison door springs open and we walk out into a large, multi-dimensional world that continues to expand exponentially. ‘Beauty’ is the word of witness that we use to identify this world, this world that is both outer and inner, both present and other.” (181-187)

God, empower me to be patient. Guide me. I need discernment to navigate my doubts, my history. I need to be reminded that you do not expect me to be perfect; that perfection is only you, Jesus. Thank you for beauty. Help me to see it further, to have eyes to see and ears to hear. Help me to remember that it is foundationally you who I trust, you who I worship and follow. Help me to stand.

Cleanse my thoughts. Heal my wounds that I might revel in the scars[6]: a map of where I have been. I surrender. Show me what that means. Help me build the stamina to swim past the breakers; and once there, to ride the waves in grateful celebration.

May your love overflow from my heart. Soli deo gloria. Amen.

Read Part 2

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[1] This vision being influenced by Jesus’ words as recorded in Scripture like Matthew 5:48: “You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Curiously, the Greek word, teleios, which is often translated as “perfect”, really means “mature (full grown), complete in all its parts” (biblehub.com/greek/5046.htm, accessed 22 July, 2016). So for the Christ-follower, perfection has more to do with maturation or growth than flawlessness.

[2] For example, “The Rock, his work is perfect, for all his ways are justice. A God of faithfulness and without iniquity, just and upright is he” (Deuteronomy 32:4). “This God—his way is perfect; the word of the LORD proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him” (2 Samuel 22:31). “The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple” (Psalm 19:7). It is important to note that the Hebrew root word for “perfect” here is tamim, which essentially means blameless or without defect (biblehub.com/hebrew/8549.htm, accessed 22 July, 2016).

[3] “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

[4] I begin to address the idea of surrendering to God in “Is God Patient (Part 3)” and “We Will Overcome”

[5] “For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13). Or as Jesus answered the woman at the well, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water” (John 4:10), latter adding, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’” (John 7:38). Finally, the hope of Christ: “For the Lamb [who is Jesus] in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 7:17).

[6] “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10b).

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On Cohabitation

You can be physically naked, but emotionally you hold back, fearful of losing someone whose only real tie to you is mutual affection.

Drew Griffin

The following is in response to the article, “The Majority of Americans Recommend Cohabitation.”

From the outside, it seems straightforward: marriage is motivated by faith—in God, in the other person, in the tradition of community—while cohabitation is motivated or justified by more isolated practicality and uncertainty, even fear—a lack of willingness, even courage, to risk commitment without first trying to determine or control its outcome.

Based on various personal conversations, however, this is such fragile, humbling subject because—regardless of what authors like Drew Griffin may attest (and there are many like him in the Church)—the reality is that marriages collapse under the weight of insecurity about as much as cohabited relationships. That intimacy is not a guaranteed end for either path. That it is purely a gift.

Yet can that gift be acquired through our human effort or can it only be received from a source beyond us?

Regardless of whether you believe in God or not, I am not sure that intimacy can be acquired purely through human will. At least it does not seem to be so from what I have observed. That does not mean, however, that the two people do not share a very tangible responsibility to foster the space in their minds, hearts and lifestyles to receive that gift; and, after receiving it, to work daringly to cultivate and grow it for the rest of their lives.

No path toward intimacy is easy.

So where does the frail nature of this conversation leave one who still wants to believe in the power of marriage?

It is a power that I believe was orchestrated and affirmed in the beginning of time as “very good” by God, Yahweh, the “I am.” Despite my questions and uncertainty, Yahweh asks that I trust His promise to me—His Word. The Bible is foundationally the story of the covenant between Yahweh and Mankind, between Yahweh and you, me, each individual in the world. To trust in Him, in His love—the intimacy promised by committing to a relationship with Jesus Christ by the mysterious and active affection of the Holy Spirit—is to ground myself on faith. That faith is rooted in what He proclaimed as good. It is gratitude demonstrated through obedience to His guidance: that marriage is the path to the deepest and most stirring kind of intimacy.

That is probably not enough to convince the skeptics, but for me it is enough to nurture an inspiration that is both meaningful and purposeful. More so, I feel it deepening my capacity for love while also filling it with an overwhelming sense of passion.

May you discover that wellspring of love within your own heart, and may its goodness inspire your passion to new breadths of holistic expression. Soli deo gloria.

That Infinite Well of Goodness

Even though I lived four years in Santa Barbara, California, as well as six years of childhood and five of my most recent years in San Jose—a short drive away from Santa Cruz—I had never surfed. Having snowboarded half my life, being drawn to the exhilaration of gliding across a snowy mountainside; for some reason I hesitated to introduce such passion to glimmering ocean waves. The lack of initiative was mostly rooted in fear, I think—in uncertainty. Fear so often stalks the unknown. The shadowed depths of the ocean, the wildlife dwelling within, and my sense of helplessness in it—that Mankind was created for land—had perhaps dampened my ambition.

It was time to face such a fear, to become familiar with the unfamiliar—to broaden the potential for adventure.

It would begin on the shore of Pacifica, a leisurely town nestled on the western coast of the San Francisco Peninsula. I would not be venturing out alone.

* * *

Sometimes I pretend to be an academic.

For example, a week ago I spent five hours studying the word goodness, which was only an introduction, really. Illuminated by many colors, it is a difficult word to concisely define. Still, I was determined to at least peek beneath the surface.

Disclaimer: I was and still am wary of letting the beautiful and somewhat subjective gift of a word drown in objectivity. Therefore, more than any technical definition I can offer, I hope the heart of the pursuit recounted here brightens a way toward fuller understanding.

A Definition

Aside from connecting it to the root word, good, the New Oxford American Dictionary identifies the synonyms of goodness as “decency, excellence, friendliness, generosity, good will, grace, honesty, integrity, kindness, mercy . . .” Used as an adjective, noun, and adverb, good is defined as moral virtue, especially in helping others; giving pleasure (enjoyable or satisfying); attractive (pleasant to look at); a restoration from damage; or fulfillment of a promise.

Thank you for a kaleidoscope of a definition, New Oxford American Dictionary.

Beauty

As a disciple of Jesus Christ, I am interested in noting how a word is used in the Bible. There are as many variations in the Hebrew and Greek lexicons of the Old and New Testaments as there are with the English translations. The Hebrew term, tôwb, the one most commonly translated as good, connotes beauty in the widest sense, but also suggests “better, bountiful, cheerful, at ease; graciously joyful, kindly, loving, merry; pleasure, precious, prosperous, ready, sweet, wealth, welfare . . .” For example,

“And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good” (Genesis 1:31a). “Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him” (Psalm 34:8)! “The LORD is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble” (Nahum 1:7a).

Intrinsic & Extrinsic

In the Greek New Testament, two root words are most often translated as good. The first, agathǒs, essentially means intrinsically good (good in nature). For example,

“The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good” (Luke 6:45a), the thought of which is expanded in Galatians 5:22-23a: “But the fruit of the [Holy] Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” “[God] who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6), which can be connected to Paul’s letter to the early church in Rome: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (8:28); “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (12:2); and “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (12:21).

The second Greek root word, kalǒs, is also often used, which principally refers to an outward sign of an inward good (e.g. beautiful by appearance). For example, Jesus said,

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (Luke 6:27b-28). “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (John 10:11). Or as Paul wrote, “But as for you, O man of God . . . Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith” (I Timothy 6:11-12a).

In a way, goodness is all that is inherently beautiful, whether tangible or intangible. And according to my Faith, its prime mover is God.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.

—William Shakespeare (The Merchant of Venice)

* * *

One can only learn so much about surfing on dry land, even with a friend or surf instructor (a.k.a. “Smurf Sensei”) as a guide. Therefore, snug in a wetsuit with a foam board grasped more confidently than I felt, it was time to step into the waves to practice what had been taught on shore.

The waves of Pacifica State Beach are relatively tender tutors. To help me focus on the most difficult aspect of surfing—the stand—Smurf Sensei held the back of my board while I crawled onto it amidst churning waist-deep surf. The most exhausting aspect of the process would not be falling off the board in failed attempts to stand so much as rising from the water only to be slammed under and off balance again and again right after. I felt as graceful as a turkey, surprised at how awkward it was to just center my ribs while lying on the board.

It was not long, however, before I managed to stand and ride my first small wave. And then another.

Conscious of my limits, however, I eventually surrendered to the need for a break on the unmoving sun-warmed beach. Meanwhile, Smurf Sensei took her short board out to model what is possible with happy years of experience.

The learning process often draws the most energy from a person. In kinesthetic learning, for example, there is usually an overabundance of body tension with each movement as muscle memory and balance are sharpened for the specific action. I was tired, and knew I would be sore later, but was also filled with the vigor of having entered a new sea of possibilities. So I soon retrieved the foam board and paddled solo toward the larger waves.

* * *

An Infinite Well

Goodness is transcendent, an extravagant aspect or gift of growing in the Truth. “You can never have too much goodness,” a friend texted in a conversation. “That’s the stuff that also inspires creative work.” It helps light the journey. Martin Luther wrote,

“This life therefore is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness, not health, but healing, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it, the process is not yet finished, but it is going on, this is not the end, but it is the road. All does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified.” (“Defense of All the Articles”)

It was the aforementioned text conversation that first nurtured this focused meditation on goodness. I had recommended a particular musician to my friend as a way to “add to that infinite well of goodness at the center of our hearts.” Thinking about it further, I later wrote, “I think by ‘infinite well’ I mean ‘infinite capacity to receive and ultimately draw from goodness.’”

I appreciate how she responded: “I like ‘infinite well’ it’s hearty, like a direct streamline. . . . we as souls have infinite access to our well but it’s common in our humanness to constrict the flow. . . . and even ‘evil’ or acts of ‘evil’ stem from the root of confusion, not knowing what is real . . . Truth.”

Later that night, as I considered the common tension felt between worshiping and being intimate with God who is both good (e.g. loving, merciful) and just (e.g. a holy judge)[1], I wondered if justice is necessary because we are all at some point collaborators with evil, willfully or not. The term evil is a somewhat complex term, which I will not delve into here. For now, I suggest that it is confusion contaminated with malice. Or that evil is that which distracts or disrupts a person or people from receiving, drawing from, and therefore extending goodness. That fear may be one of the most entrenching symptoms of confusion.

Hallelujah, such fear can be overcome:

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21—agathǒs, intrinsically good). “For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world except the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God? This is he who came . . . Jesus Christ . . . And the [Holy] Spirit is the one who testifies, because the Spirit is the truth” (I John 5:4-6). “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

J.R.R. Tolkien writes, “In the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach” (The Return of the King).

* * *

The ocean is a wonderful element we get the opportunity to play with. It’s pretty magical when you allow yourself to just be with it. It has a way of awakening one’s soul.

—Smurf Sensei

I did not catch any of the larger waves that first day, but I did realize that the well of my heart was deepening. Even just sitting on the foam board, swaying with the waves as they rolled faithfully by, I finally understood the allure—how much goodness could be shared through something as uncomplicated as surfing.

I seized the opportunity to return the next morning.

This time Smurf Sensei and I would head out together. There would be no more lessons on the beach, only that which can be gained from actually going out and trying.

Fear had not departed entirely, however.

Insulated by our wetsuits, boards at hand, Smurf Sensei and I were about to step into the water when two other surfers stopped us. “Hey, we just saw a great white shark jump out of the water down that way,” one said, pointing northward about a quarter mile to where the cove curved westward.

After a brief interchange, Smurf Sensei thanked them and looked at me with brows raised questioningly. 

“What do you think?” I asked.

Gazing out to the cluster of other surfers in the water perpendicular to our position, and considering the relatively shallow depths where the waves were breaking, she thought we would be fine. I trusted her experience over my uncertainty.

This was it: another opportunity to face the unknown—to swim with fear.

Reinforced by a shark presentation at Monterey Bay Aquarium the Sunday before[2]—that sharks are productive members of the oceanic ecosystem—and the knowledge that many surfers have been in the vicinity of great white sharks without problem, I was resolved to not let a mild apprehension prevent me from drawing further from the well of goodness. That is not to say, however, that I did not occasionally scan the water for a sinister shadow or dorsal fin.

Paddling past the breakers, sitting restfully on the board, and even managing to ride a couple waves that day, I was reminded of the delicate balance of nature: that while it is dangerous, not to be underestimated with haughtiness, it is also immensely good. It reflects God’s order, His beauty.

Like in my relationship with God, I have spent years progressively reorienting false perspectives—such as the uncertainty elicited by a desert, forest, or mountain wilderness. I am grateful to have at last begun to do so with the ocean. I still have much to learn and overcome, and believe it will always be so; but am excited to keep pursuing the healing, courage, and inspiration that can nourish the soul when fears are overcome, when beauty is allowed to pour in. Perspective is widened from it. The heart is deepened, enlarging its capacity to hold and share the infinite divine love that desires to overflow to every heart in the world. Soli deo gloria.

May we all learn to live with more joyful resolve; and may we laugh with anticipation for other example of goodness yet to be revealed and celebrated.

If you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know a man, don't bother analyzing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping, of seeing how much he is moved by noble ideas; you will get better results if you just watch him laugh. If he laughs well, he's a good man.

—Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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[1] For more on that tension between good and just, note: “The Damage of ‘Trust God’”.

[2] There are curious statistics about shark attacks. For example, I am more likely to be killed by a lightning strike than by a shark. Or to die by the flu. Or to be injured by a toilet. (http://natgeotv.com/ca/human-shark-bait/facts. Accessed 7/6/2016).