Because I can't read a book without writing an essay...
Happy Birthday Nate!
** Disclaimer: this post may offend you. But since it’s my brother’s birthday and one of the things I love most about him is his indifference towards other people’s opinions of himself and he was voted “Most Opinionated” of his senior class, it only seems fitting**
Today, I am happy to be an adult. To have just worked a full weekend with coworkers I really like and patients I connected with is wonderful. To be able to sit and relax without any homework or assignments that I should be working on nagging the back of my mind is glorious. Especially since it is gorgeous in Maryland today, and I’m in the middle of a really great book.
My friend Chris recently talked about the influence Donald Miller has had on his life over the last few years- especially through his book Blue Like Jazz- which had a similar effect on me. This fall I was gifted Father Fiction which I loved, and I’m currently crawling through Searching for God Knows What. I say crawling because it takes me about four pages before I realize two things. 1) why do I start reading without a pen nearby and 2) how can he already be blowing my mind? Sometimes my mind goes on such a processing tangent that I can’t keep reading. Like today.
First, a little back story. When I was younger, I really struggled with the idea that Jesus dying on the cross was a big deal. To my twelve year-old mind, it made complete sense. If one person could die and in doing so save the world, why wouldn’t he? Especially if he knew he would conquer death and ascend into heaven to be seated at the right hand of the Father… it honestly seemed logical to me. And if I’m being completely honest- it still kind of does. When you’re younger it seems like everyone focuses on “getting into heaven” and if he was going to get to do that, while saving a whole bunch of people- what was the big deal?
And then, somewhere around 7th grade I realized that in order to die and save the world, he had to lead a blameless, perfect life. And that impressed me- I identified with the struggle to sin, so to go approximately 33 years without sinning, really did seem like a sacrifice to me. And I felt pretty comfortable in that realization, and didn’t think about it much more. Until today.
“The mystery of what Christ was before He was human is one of the greatest mysteries of all time, and one that will not be solved until we have new bodies, new eyes, new hearts, new minds and strong soul with which to engage any place near Him. To exchange heaven for a place, and to exchange eternity for time, was an act of humility I don’t think any of us can understand.” (Miller, Searching pg 121)
In my head I’ve always known that Christ existed before there was a sun and a moon etc, and he “was and is and is to come.” In the beginning was the word, and the word became flesh… all of that. What I guess I never really stopped to think about was that that meant he had to leave somewhere to come to earth, to live the blameless life necessary to make his death save the world. That seems like way more of a sacrifice to me.
To willingly trade a place where you experience perfect harmony with the people around you, sin can’t even exist, and love knows know end, for a place in which you know you will be considered a foreigner, ridiculed and ultimately wrongly accused- that seems like a big deal to me. Probably because I recently left a place of great community for an unknown foreign land. And although I am not alone here, just as Christ was not alone during His time on earth- there is still that significant feeling of loss. And so today, with the help of Miller’s words, I feel like I’ve gotten another glimpse of why His sacrifice was indeed the greatest sacrifice.
And I was feeling pretty good about myself, so I kept reading. Until, on the very next page, he said “… if Christ was who He said He was, and He represents an existence, a community, and an economy that are better than our, and it is important that I “believe in Him,” what is He like?” (pg 122) At first, I misread this question- and it was my misreading that got me thinking about something else.
When I say, “I believe in Christ,” these days, that pretty much means “I believe that He existed, and is who He says He is.” Which, I think is true. BUT if I say “I believe in you,” you wouldn’t think oh Vickie believes that I exist and that I am who I say I am. No. When I say “I believe in you,” it is usually meant as a statement of encouragement- I believe in your abilities, your strengths, your wisdom and your methods.
But do I believe in Christ that way? Do I believe in His abilities, His strengths, His wisdom and His methods? I’m a control-freak, so realistically, the answer is no. Most of the time I’m not satisfied with the way God is handling a situation, and think I could probably do it in a better/faster/more selfish way… regardless of how many times that has backfired on me.
The ironic thing about this realization is that it came right after a paragraph explaining that Luther helped Miller fall in love with Jesus. Where’s the irony? I’ve met a lot of people who seem to follow Luther instead of Jesus. I have a love/hate relationship with Lutheranism. It has given a lot to me, and taken a lot from me. One of my biggest frustrations with the Lutheran church comes from the eagerness of its followers to define themselves as “Lutherans” instead of just “Christians.” The more I thought about it, the more I realized that many of them have become so focused on who Luther was and what he believed, that I feel like they lost sight of Jesus, and became true followers of Luther, instead of Jesus. And I happen to think that a great Christian leader points people to Christ, not themselves. (I would, however, be very interested to hear Luther’s opinion of today’s Lutheran church) This isn’t a phenomenon unique to Luther either- today’s equivalent might be Rob Bell or Mark Driscoll- both of whom I think have great ideas, but seem to attract people to follow them, more so than Jesus- which they probably are not intending to do- but it’s a fine line that is easy to cross.
Which I suppose is one of the reasons I love reading Donald Miller so much- because he challenges me and directs me towards Jesus, instead of himself. And he’s from Portland too, so I’m sure that helps.
So if you’re looking for a good book, I suggest you start with Blue Like Jazz, and make the goal to finish it before the movie comes out in the fall ☺
Back to reading…
** Disclaimer: this post may offend you. But since it’s my brother’s birthday and one of the things I love most about him is his indifference towards other people’s opinions of himself and he was voted “Most Opinionated” of his senior class, it only seems fitting**
Today, I am happy to be an adult. To have just worked a full weekend with coworkers I really like and patients I connected with is wonderful. To be able to sit and relax without any homework or assignments that I should be working on nagging the back of my mind is glorious. Especially since it is gorgeous in Maryland today, and I’m in the middle of a really great book.
My friend Chris recently talked about the influence Donald Miller has had on his life over the last few years- especially through his book Blue Like Jazz- which had a similar effect on me. This fall I was gifted Father Fiction which I loved, and I’m currently crawling through Searching for God Knows What. I say crawling because it takes me about four pages before I realize two things. 1) why do I start reading without a pen nearby and 2) how can he already be blowing my mind? Sometimes my mind goes on such a processing tangent that I can’t keep reading. Like today.
First, a little back story. When I was younger, I really struggled with the idea that Jesus dying on the cross was a big deal. To my twelve year-old mind, it made complete sense. If one person could die and in doing so save the world, why wouldn’t he? Especially if he knew he would conquer death and ascend into heaven to be seated at the right hand of the Father… it honestly seemed logical to me. And if I’m being completely honest- it still kind of does. When you’re younger it seems like everyone focuses on “getting into heaven” and if he was going to get to do that, while saving a whole bunch of people- what was the big deal?
And then, somewhere around 7th grade I realized that in order to die and save the world, he had to lead a blameless, perfect life. And that impressed me- I identified with the struggle to sin, so to go approximately 33 years without sinning, really did seem like a sacrifice to me. And I felt pretty comfortable in that realization, and didn’t think about it much more. Until today.
“The mystery of what Christ was before He was human is one of the greatest mysteries of all time, and one that will not be solved until we have new bodies, new eyes, new hearts, new minds and strong soul with which to engage any place near Him. To exchange heaven for a place, and to exchange eternity for time, was an act of humility I don’t think any of us can understand.” (Miller, Searching pg 121)
In my head I’ve always known that Christ existed before there was a sun and a moon etc, and he “was and is and is to come.” In the beginning was the word, and the word became flesh… all of that. What I guess I never really stopped to think about was that that meant he had to leave somewhere to come to earth, to live the blameless life necessary to make his death save the world. That seems like way more of a sacrifice to me.
To willingly trade a place where you experience perfect harmony with the people around you, sin can’t even exist, and love knows know end, for a place in which you know you will be considered a foreigner, ridiculed and ultimately wrongly accused- that seems like a big deal to me. Probably because I recently left a place of great community for an unknown foreign land. And although I am not alone here, just as Christ was not alone during His time on earth- there is still that significant feeling of loss. And so today, with the help of Miller’s words, I feel like I’ve gotten another glimpse of why His sacrifice was indeed the greatest sacrifice.
And I was feeling pretty good about myself, so I kept reading. Until, on the very next page, he said “… if Christ was who He said He was, and He represents an existence, a community, and an economy that are better than our, and it is important that I “believe in Him,” what is He like?” (pg 122) At first, I misread this question- and it was my misreading that got me thinking about something else.
When I say, “I believe in Christ,” these days, that pretty much means “I believe that He existed, and is who He says He is.” Which, I think is true. BUT if I say “I believe in you,” you wouldn’t think oh Vickie believes that I exist and that I am who I say I am. No. When I say “I believe in you,” it is usually meant as a statement of encouragement- I believe in your abilities, your strengths, your wisdom and your methods.
But do I believe in Christ that way? Do I believe in His abilities, His strengths, His wisdom and His methods? I’m a control-freak, so realistically, the answer is no. Most of the time I’m not satisfied with the way God is handling a situation, and think I could probably do it in a better/faster/more selfish way… regardless of how many times that has backfired on me.
The ironic thing about this realization is that it came right after a paragraph explaining that Luther helped Miller fall in love with Jesus. Where’s the irony? I’ve met a lot of people who seem to follow Luther instead of Jesus. I have a love/hate relationship with Lutheranism. It has given a lot to me, and taken a lot from me. One of my biggest frustrations with the Lutheran church comes from the eagerness of its followers to define themselves as “Lutherans” instead of just “Christians.” The more I thought about it, the more I realized that many of them have become so focused on who Luther was and what he believed, that I feel like they lost sight of Jesus, and became true followers of Luther, instead of Jesus. And I happen to think that a great Christian leader points people to Christ, not themselves. (I would, however, be very interested to hear Luther’s opinion of today’s Lutheran church) This isn’t a phenomenon unique to Luther either- today’s equivalent might be Rob Bell or Mark Driscoll- both of whom I think have great ideas, but seem to attract people to follow them, more so than Jesus- which they probably are not intending to do- but it’s a fine line that is easy to cross.
Which I suppose is one of the reasons I love reading Donald Miller so much- because he challenges me and directs me towards Jesus, instead of himself. And he’s from Portland too, so I’m sure that helps.
So if you’re looking for a good book, I suggest you start with Blue Like Jazz, and make the goal to finish it before the movie comes out in the fall ☺
Back to reading…
wow. money. That quote from p. 121...thank you.
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