Category Archives: Following

Curing Hypocrisy

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On August 27, 1996, three weeks before his unexpected death, Henri Nouwen wrote these words in his journal…

“We who offer spiritual leadership often find ourselves not living what we are preaching or teaching.  It is not easy to avoid hypocrisy completely because we find ourselves saying things larger than ourselves.  I often call people to a life I am not fully able to live myself.

I am learning that the best cure for hypocrisy is community.  Hypocrisy is not so much the result of not living what I preach but much more of not confessing my inability to fully live up to my own words.”

I’ve bolded the words above because I couldn’t agree more.  Part of the call to lead is to lead towards things bigger than yourself–to follow a path that is beyond oneself.  I believe that unapologetically, and I agree that it brings out hypocrisy, in some sense.

However, that second bolded portion strikes me as major too.  “Hypocrisy” is often a charge leveled at an enemy.  I remember hearing this word in heated tones as two sides “opposed” to each other armed themselves with this word-bullet, intent on damaging each other.  But I’ve never heard it used from one friend to another, even when every secret has been shared and every inconsistency is known.  Somehow, realness diffuses something.  And in real community with others, this realness offers healing to any of the planet’s six billion hypocrites who find themselves in need of that.

Struggling with Self

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Somewhere along his road, Blaise Pascal penned these words, imagining them coming from God’s own mouth…

“It is I who have made you and I alone can teach you what you are.  But you are no longer in the state I made you.  I created you holy, innocent, perfect, I filled you with light and understanding, I showed you my glory and my wondrous works.  You eye then beheld the majesty of God.  You were not then in the darkness that now blinds your sight, nor subject to death and the miseries that afflict you.

But you could not bear such great glory without falling into presumption.  You wanted to make yourself your own center and do without my help.  You withdrew from my rule, setting yourself as my equal in your desire to find happiness in yourself and I abandoned you to yourself.”

And that decision to seek what we need within ourselves–that sounds the bell and begins the battle, where nothing works as we think.  We squeeze tighter and wrench our grip upon the situation, confident that control is within our reach.  We scheme and strategize, certain that our best-laid plans will be sufficient to get a handle on life as we know it.

Yet into the struggle, Jesus speaks an unnerving single line: “Whoever will saves his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.”

Is it possible that we have it all backwards?  Could it be that a twist took place in the plot somewhere, and we missed the whole point?  Can one think they won, only to lose that which they desired most to save?

Yes.  Apparently so.

So we struggle.

We struggle against our desires for control.  We struggle against our craving for central position in our worlds.  And we determine to discover dependence.  We try on a cross for size, and we pick it up with faith that dying indeed brings life.

In my experience, the struggle never ends.  Also in my experience, it is the battle that must be waged daily and which is most demanding of my energies.

To any in the heat of battle today, fight on, my brothers and sisters.  Slow down a breath or two.  Loosen a fist or two.  Relax a muscle or two.  Pray a word or two.  And bow a knee or two.

You are not alone.

Disappointment

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disappointment

Who doesn’t know firsthand a sigh-causing sense of disappointment? Hardly a day passes without some touch of it; sometimes it brings a somewhat gentle sense of frustration. Sometimes it’s downright disheartening, in the truest sense of that word.

I’m reading something right now about experiencing real spiritual community. In the same sentences, I’m reading of disappointment. Besides our struggles to join our lives well with others, we all find disappointment within our own journeys. I can find it in myself long before I try to connect intimately with you, thank you very much.

But what if it’s not that bad?

I don’t intend that question as a minimization of real hurt. What I mean is, “Could disappointment itself fill a role?” Larry Crabb thinks so, and I’m inclined to agree…

“Disappointment… is inevitable. More than that, it is good. Following Christ must take us through seasons of disappointment, because Christianity remakes our dreams before it fulfills them. The process is excruciating. It can include divorce, bankruptcy, accidents, murder, near apostasy–anything.

Christianity promises happiness–that’s part of its appeal–but we will not find it by traveling the route we’ve already laid out in our heads. Disappointment, severe enough to be called death, is unavoidable in a true spiritual journey.”

Comforting? Not entirely.

True? I suspect so.

So what? Not sure. Go and live, and seek Jesus fiercely. And when disappointment hits, react to it slowly enough that the hurt doesn’t automatically create anger and aggravation. You may be more squarely on the right path than you realize.

Prayer and the Unexpected

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As I’ve said earlier, I’m teaching a series on prayer these days.  From within the pile of material and preparation filling my time has come a realization–when we enter conversation with God, odds are good it’s not going to play out how we envisioned.  I know, that could be discomforting because most of the time, we approach God with an idea that we’re pretty certain is a great idea.  We take it to Him, in the hopes that He’ll buy in and put His superior power and influence behind the great idea that we can’t make into reality.

However, what if you don’t get anything near what you went in asking for?

What if your primary agenda item never even gets on the table?

Would you still pray?

Acts 10…

Peter is hungry, and he’s got food on the brain–and we all know the feeling.  (I’m actually feeling it right now.)  Hungrily waiting for lunch to be ready, he enters a trance where a divine dialogue is awaiting him.  Topic?  Food.  Or so it seems.

Animals in a sheet get lowered down.  An invitation to eat is issued.  Peter declines as a matter of religious purity, and God tells him that nothing from His hand is impure.  Repeat this cycle over and over once more, and throw in another Creator-initiated conversation that’s happening to a stranger named Cornelius.

By the end of the story, Peter’s world has turned right over.  He went up on the roof just hungry for lunch.  He came down convicted of racism and hard-heartedness towards the plans of God.  How on earth did he set out for that first point but end up at that last point?  What was in the middle?  A conversation with the Master.

So I’m just saying…

Pray.

But pray carefully.

And I’d advise against going in with rigid expectations–you might just want a sandwich, and God might be waiting to unload the entire kitchen (including the sink… maybe especially the sink!) right on top of you.

A Good Kind of Whooping

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wrestlingHere’s a twist on the image we often use of wrestling with God.  Credit Simone Weil…

“Isn’t it the greatest possible disaster, when you are wrestling with God, not to be beaten?”

That’s worth a thought.

If you “win” in your struggle with God, what does that mean?

Your way is better?

He’s really a weaker God than the dust-man who just made Him tap out?

Or what?

I’m all for Greco-Romaning with God.  In fact, that description fits real life for me.  But I can’t help running with Ms. Simone’s thought: When the bell rings, the best possible outcome for me after ten rounds would be to come away with a bit of a whooping.

That’s not abuse; that’s just the reality of one man asking to feel the weight of the Heaviest Being around.  And you don’t get out of such meetings without some marks.