Awareness

This morning I visited a new church in my search for a new community, a new place to call home. It was what you might call a coffee church, and I really enjoyed the atmosphere and the people I met. Even better, the pastor spoke on something I've been thinking about a lot lately: the fact that if we truly believe what we claim to believe, we must step out into the communities around us and make an impact. If we're not making an impact on the people and places around us, we're simply not living the way we're meant to live.

Unfortunately, figuring out exactly what this means is far more difficult than I ever used to imagine, at least at first glance. If it is our purpose to give, to serve and to love those around us, how do we discern and respond to that calling? No two people are called in precisely the same way, just as no two parents will ever agree on whose child is more special. To think and to act otherwise is simply an exercise in beating your head against a wall.

Maxims

I have always believed that it is important to have rules to live by - a set of principles that I can fall back on whenever things get hazy or complicated. A core group of ideas which permeate and affect every decision I make. These maxims I have developed slowly over time, morphing and changing and adding to them as time goes on. I decided that it is probably worthwhile to put these maxims to paper, so to speak, so that I might be able to rely on them in a larger fashion. Are they all perfectly formed? No. Do they have flaws? I'm sure. But this is less for an audience and more for my own use. Even so, feel free to read and consider them as you please.

Slide

Sometimes I think I should start a blog concerned with nothing beyond the movie Fight Club and the philosophies and thoughts contained within it. I would never argue that it is the best movie ever made, but I have learned more from it than from any other film. If you have not yet noticed, many of the posts in this blog reference or explicitly quote the film in one way or another. This post is no different. Bear with me.

One of my favorite scenes from the film is known as Human Sacrifice. Before we go any further, please click the link and watch the scene. Thanks. Now we can continue. While Tyler Durden's thought process is questionable and his results are debatable, perhaps the most important part of this scene is a voiceover the Narrator (Edward Norton) gives in passing as the two men leave the convenience store: "No fear, no distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide."

I cited that statement over social media earlier this year and was quickly presented with this (likely rhetorical) question: "How do you do that?" Simple question, but certainly relevant. I do think there is something to find, otherwise I wouldn't look. That said, here we go.

Living by the Book

Thanks to DS
To explain every facet of why I hate religion is going to take a long, long time. I have gotten my feet wet in that discussion a few times in this space, including my thoughts on Anne Rice leaving the church, Christian bookstores and how Gandhi viewed Christians, among other examples.

The sticking point in all these posts is common between them: people trying to act Christian rather than like Christ are creating problems rather than solutions, and doing it all in the name of a God who is likely ashamed of their actions (I would never presume to know exactly what the reactions of God are, but I am willing to lend an educated guess). The motives of churchy people trying to "be" Christian are likely good and real, consistent with what they think truth is. The problem is not the initial motives of Christians, but rather the way Jesus has been institutionalized, prepackaged and made into a formula and set of rules that must be upheld or else.

The title of this post - living by the book - comes from something a high school teacher of mine passed along during class my senior year. He said to us, "you can live by the book, but it's slavery." This simple statement is one of the most profound and important things I have learned thus far in life, but I do think it requires a measure of explanation before I continue.

Living by the book can have two distinct meanings in this context, one that I believe to be beneficial and one that I believe to be harmful. First, the beneficial way of approaching the phrase: as Christians we are called to live a lifestyle consistant with that of Jesus. This means treating people like Jesus did, loving people without conditions, judging no one and seeking to help everyone. If the Bible is taken as the Word of God, its words should be revered and its message followed. And without question, the message of the Bible and of Jesus is love. Love God, love your neighbor. In this sense, living by the book is the greatest thing we can do as people and as followers of Christ, and I believe that we are all called to do so. But I hesitate to call that "living by the book", so instead I will refer to this idea as following the message of Jesus.

Unfortunately, the second way the phrase can be taken is much less positive. Today, the phrase living by the book means following the rules, being a "good" person, or something to that extent. This is the sense in which my teacher meant the phrase, as I am sure you immediately understood upon reading his quote. Within the context of Christ followers, 'the book' can again refer to Scripture, but not in such a positive light. Rather than considering the message of Jesus (love), this way of approaching Scripture means turning the Bible into a rule book. A rule book that must be followed at all costs, as if God expects perfection from his imperfect creation. A rule book that allows us to judge people who are different than we are, one that we can tailor to cast ourselves in the best light. This is what I am referring to when I say "living by the book" from now on.

This second version of living by the book had a grip on my life for many, many years. Being raised in a Christian household, going to church every week and attending a Christian school meant that I was constantly surrounded by people telling me what I could and could not do within the context of making Jesus happy. I was constantly being shown (almost exclusively at school) that this Lamb of God was spending his every waking moment spying on me, hoping to catch me slip up. Hoping to see me fail. Perhaps not always explicitly, but it was certainly implied and pounded into my mind. I was raised to fear sin and sinners (and to ignore the fact that Christ followers are sinners just like everyone else). I was told that dancing is dangerous (it leads to sex...gasp), that drinking alcohol makes you a bad person, that Democrats are evil. I was molded into believing that once a person commits a "big" sin, I have to label them as whatever their sin was: druggie, alchie, slut, liberal, Catholic (yeah, I know, ridiculous, but no joke). I grew up in a context that made me a slave to the book. A slave to the rules. I was afraid to slip up: for fear of being labeled as one of those naughty sinners, for fear of Jesus seeing me and shouting "gotcha!", for fear of people losing respect for me. If I did slip up, the guilt train came hurtling into the station and ran me over every time. There was no escaping it. Turn on the television and you will find televangelists preaching fire and brimstone and fear. "God is out to get you unless you follow the rules." I believed that if I sinned, Jesus would disown me. That lie is something I have had a difficult time overcoming, and is something I struggle with to this day.

Thankfully, there are people like Brennan Manning who are determined to speak truth against the lie of living by the book. In his book The Ragamuffin Gospel, Manning wrote:

"Our huffing and puffing to impress God, our scrambling for brownie points, our thrashing about trying to fix ourselves while hiding our pettiness and wallowing in guilt are nauseating to God and are a flat denial of the gospel of grace."

Grace means that the rules carry no weight any more. It means that there is no value in living by the book. The value comes from following the message of Jesus, from living a life focused on love rather than keeping score.

My teacher was spot on when he said that living by the book is slavery. No good comes from following the rules for the sake of the rules. Instead, it creates cynicism, sows dischord and pushes people away from the message of Jesus. I believe that living by the book and following the message of Jesus are two mutually exclusive things. If I am following the message of Jesus, I have no concern for whatever mistakes a person made in their past, no desire to judge or label them. Rather, my sole concern is to show them love. I am drawn to accept them for who they are and to approach them with no pretenses or hangups. In contrast, a person mired in living by the book will likely be so concerned with following the perceived rules themselves that they become covered in guilt from the times they make a mistake. And often they will begin watching to see if everyone else is following those rules as well. And if the people they watch are slipping up (or just ignoring the rules altogether), there is a more than small chance that judgment and contempt will soon follow - two things that have no place within the message of Jesus.

I refuse to be a slave to the book any longer. Consequences be damned means living my life free from fears and worries. If I make a mistake, so be it. I will clean that mess up when I come to it. The message and actions of Jesus mean that I do not need to fear failing or screwing up because he paid for my mistakes already. To live explicitly by the book is to deny the message of Jesus, the gospel of grace and love. Sure, many of the rules have merit. But to follow them for the sake of following them is unhealthy and (dare I say it) wrong. Instead, I choose to live my life focused on loving people. I have found that if I live my life focused on love first, I find myself following most of the "rules" anyway, without even thinking about it. Funny how that happens.

And so on...

Reflections

This has been an interesting summer for me. When it began, I was involved in a significant relationship and expected that to play a giant part of what my summer would become. I was looking forward to my internship, looking forward to spending time with the friends I hadn't seen in a few months, and being home again after a year of school that saw me travel throughout Europe and take on new responsibilities at school. I had plans, things I wanted to do and a mental list of the people I wanted to spend my time with. There were a great deal of expectations, and I did not expect my plans to be let down.

The summer I anticipated and the experiences I have had over the last three months have very little in common. That relationship has since come to an end, for better or for worse (thus far it has personally been for the better, but I do miss the friendship I had with her). My internship has been largely what I expected, but with significantly less work to do than I hoped. I have turned filling dead time into an art form on par with Van Gogh and Monet. But more than anything else, I have learned a great deal about myself, other people and the world at large. I want to reflect on what I have learned and what it means for me now and in the future; I will write concerning a pair of those topics now, and perhaps follow up with more in the future.

Community
Entering this summer I was a part of a handful of communities: my London community, my dorm community, my high school friends and my church. If you had asked me about the communities I belonged to three months ago, I would have named another group of people. However, that group has since largely rejected me and attempted to ignore my existence. To be perfectly honest it is disappointing that this group chose that road, though not unexpected. I still care about them as human beings; when I call a person "friend" there is nothing fake about it. Yet, the actions by that group allowed me to realize a couple of things. First, there are some people who function as if they are still in high school and drama is "in". Second, I want no part of that drama. Individually they are all great people who I enjoy spending time with; together, something completely different is created.

Being separated from that group (and the relationship I was in) has turned out to be wonderfully positive for me. Instead of being on the fringe of a group where I may or may not have been wanted or welcomed, I became free to spend time with people who love me and accept me for who I am. I was able to foster the real relationships I have. They always say that in tough times you find out who your real friends are. It has been incredibly refreshing to spend time with people who want to spend time with me, and it is remarkable how much more positive those experiences are. In that sense, this has been a fantastic summer.

I also have learned about stepping into a new community. If you have read this blog, you know my skepticism and hesitations toward church. As such, I have often chosen to stay away from church communities and small groups to avoid conflict and difficulty. However, this summer I approached and was welcomed fully by a group of young adults within my church. Some of these people I have known for years, others I met only this summer. But they all treat me as one of their own, as a person that matters to them. Seeing the way they have accepted me with open arms (and let's be fair, I can be a headache sometimes) has taught me a great deal about accepting other people in love and without judgment. And for both these things I am grateful.

I fully expect to become a full-fledged member of this community if I end up living in Cincinnati long term. I am confident that I will be welcomed completely, and that I will be free to grow and learn with these people in a positive, loving, honest environment. I enjoy spending time with them, learning from them, listening to them. It may seem to them as if I speak my mind too much or that I am an abrasive, confrontational person, but that isn't the case. Rather, I chose to approach them in as real a way I knew possible, speaking the truth that I believe to them when asked, consequences be damned. More on that in a moment. But the fact that they have welcomed me even while seeing who I am in an honest way has had a real impact on me this summer. And I anticipate it will continue to impact me in the future.

Consequences Be Damned
Back during the spring I made a decision to begin living my life a certain way. I have mentioned this mantra I took up – consequences be damned – a few different times in this space. But as summer took hold, I began to realize that this mantra alone would not suffice. Through personal experience and conversation with people whom I trust and respect, I added a small piece to the mantra: act in the name of truth, consequences be damned. In previous conversations I have used that phrase to define hope, and I should note that it is not mere coincidence that one of my goals from the decision I made was that I begin living life in hope first and foremost, rather than letting fear gain a foothold.

Now, some of you will see that mantra and ask what is this truth that I mention, that I am seeking to act in the name of. Unfortunately, I cannot hand truth to you. I believe that truth is unique to a certain extent for all of us, and that my truth is not identical to my buddy Torian's truth or anyone else's truth. That isn't to say that any one person's truth is better; rather, it takes different forms and can exist on multiple sides of an issue or problem (I realize that this sounds a great deal like pluralism...and to an extent it is. But not in the way that many would assume it to be).

Anyway, this mantra began to manifest itself in my actions as I continually recalled it in the midst of making difficult decisions and choices. Let me provide an example. My mind is constantly going, always thinking. If a topic comes up, I have an opinion on it, guaranteed. In the past, I would often suppress my own thoughts to keep from rocking the boat, so to speak (some people close to me might not believe me on this, but it's true). However, consequences be damned means speaking my mind when my opinion is asked. And so I have done it. If you ask my opinion, you will get it. Straight and honest. In my previous post on honesty, I recounted a story where I battled with hiding my thoughts or bringing them to light and ultimately said what I was thinking. Learning to appreciate that freedom to be truthful regardless of the consequences has been invaluable for me this summer. It has allowed me to love other people more honestly and to approach situations where I see a problem in a more direct and unapologetic way.

I aim to continue holding this mantra close and keeping it a significant part of who I am and of the decisions I make. I realize that there is always the chance that unabashed honesty can sometimes create a mess, but I would rather clean up that mess than live in fear of making one. A mess created because of honesty can be cleaned up; one caused by fear, deceit or hiding is much more difficult to rectify. I anticipate making messes in the future, and I plan on cleaning them up. No regrets, consequences be damned.

And so on...

Honesty

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

Ran across that last night while out with some friends of mine. One of the people I was out with noticed it and pointed it out to me. Glad she did. There is a great deal of reality contained there.

Sometimes I get the sense that we approach truth as if it were like spending money. If the money spent will go to my benefit, I will likely not hesitate to fork it over. If there is no benefit for me, odds are the money will stay tucked in my wallet/checking account/piggy bank. We are honest in situations where it might be to our benefit - like if we are wrongly accused of a crime, for instance. Being completely honest has an immediate and lasting positive effect on us. Holding back the truth would be potentially damning, so we don't do that. But when honesty might have negative consequences, we dance around the truth and distance ourselves from it as much as possible. If I am dating someone and she asks if a pair of jeans make her look fat (or whatever), and they do, I can save myself a great deal of trouble by just lying and saying they look great even if they do not. While this is a tongue in cheek example, it does illustrate that there are times when ignoring the truth can be "beneficial" for us. Or at least it seems that way.

The concern here is not truth itself, but rather what we do with it. Like my friend pointed out at the pub, truth is rarely pure and never simple. It is dirty, just like hope. But like hope, truth has great value even as it tracks mud around the house. And that value is not just something we are providing to others. That value is ours first, regardless of who else is involved.

Ayn Rand is one of the most important thinkers and writers of the 20th century, author of such books as Atlas Shrugged, The Fountainhead and The Virtue of Selfishness. She had a great deal to say about honesty and truth, and the quote below is one of the most profound ideas I have ever encountered on the subject of honesty. It is a bit lengthy, but trust me when I say it is well worth the length (emphasis added).

"Honesty is the recognition of the fact that the unreal is unreal and can have no value, that neither love nor fame nor cash is a value if obtained by fraud – that an attempt to gain a value by deceiving the mind of others is an act of raising your victims to a position higher than reality, where you become a pawn of their blindness, a slave of their non-thinking and their evasions, while their intelligence, their rationality, their perceptiveness become the enemies you have to dread and flee – that you do not care to live as a dependant, least of all a dependant on the stupidity of others, or as a fool whose source of values is the fools he succeeds in fooling – that honesty is not a social duty, not a sacrifice for the sake of others, but the most profoundly selfish virtue man can practice: his refusal to sacrifice the reality of his own existence to the deluded consciousness of others."
- Atlas Shrugged, p.1019

I love that. Honesty is not a social duty but the most profoundly selfish virtue man can practice. His refusal to betray his own beliefs and perception of truth in order to avoid conflict and disagreement. The first time I read those words, I thought it was pretty interesting but attached no significance to them. Then I read it over a dozen or more times. And I started to grasp it: if I am to claim to be an honest person and be true to myself, I have to be willing to speak my mind and be unashamed of what I have to say, no matter what the consequences are. I refuse to live a life where I must hide my truth and bury my honesty.

After having read those words over and over again months ago, I made a promise to myself that I would be honest and straightforward with other people. No more dancing around the truth, no more hiding who I am and what I believe. I will tell you what I believe, who I am, and not hide the details. If the reality of who I am as a person causes someone to see me as an enemy or to leave me as a friend, so be it. I would prefer not to waste time on someone so fickle.

Once I made that decision I began speaking my mind and standing up for what I see as truth with a resolve that I never had in the past. Many of the words I have written in this blog would not have been possible had I not encountered Ayn Rand's wisdom and passion for the truth. Now, certainly I have encountered many who disagree with me and some who are simply looking for a fight (intellectually, of course). There have been a few instances where I stood up for something or someone and ended up with a larger mess than I had anticipated. But do you know what? So be it. I won't apologize. Speaking my mind and standing up for my truth has provided me with liberation and freedom that I did not understand before, let alone experience. Refusing to swallow what I have to say has given me great joy. No, I am not perfect, and I do not claim to be. Nor would I say that I am correct in all my beliefs. But there are core traits and perspectives within me that I refuse to betray. I know now that the friendships I have and the people who love me do so not conditionally, but rather as a result of those people seeing the reality of who I am and wanting that relationship anyway.

On Tuesday I had a conversation with someone that I had been putting off for a while. I had been putting it off because I was afraid of what the consequences of revealing the truth might be, afraid that I might be looked at differently or thrown to the curb. Living as a relative prisoner to the truth exactly like John Galt was talking about in the quote above. But then Rand's words entered my head for what must have been the thousandth time. I realized that I was dancing around the truth, just as I had chosen to stop doing. The truth I had to say certainly was not completely pure or even slightly simple, but that is the nature of truth. I realized that if I am going to take those words seriously, if I am going to honor the pact I made with myself, I have to speak the truth regardless of what consequences it might have. Consequences be damned, as I like to say. And so I stepped up to the plate and said what I had to say. Strangely enough, it worked out pretty well, to make a long story short.

Selfishness has become a bad word to us, something we claim to strive to avoid. Yet, honesty is selfish. If I challenge people to accept me for who I am, I know that I can count on the ones who do and can pay no attention to the ones who do not. Any love I obtain will not be a fraud, because the people who love me will have every opportunity to see who I am and what I am about, and to abandon me if they so choose. I can rest in the assurance that the people who love me know who I am and love me anyway. Honesty is not a social duty. We don't owe it to other people. Rather, it is an invitation for us to explore how the world reacts to who we are as people. Honesty allows me to truly be me, and to not apologize for it. And I refuse to apologize for who I am.

And so on...

A Different Kind of Hope

Sometimes it becomes difficult to separate Jesus from his followers. As in "if a Christian says something, they must be speaking for Jesus, right?" Well, no. Not exactly. Don't get me wrong, that isn't a condemnation of Christ-followers; rather, it is simply an acknowledgment of reality. Many Christians act as if they know God's will, and that their words are direct from the Creator himself. An "agree with me or else" kind of attitude. It is no secret that I have become very disillusioned over the years with the church. Non-capitalized. I see many differences between what churches teach and what Jesus taught. I see a difference in focus between Christ and many of his followers. Myself included. (By the way, any time I rail on the church or organized religion, know that I'm not claiming to be innocent myself...I'm speaking about myself and to myself as much as about anyone else.)

I've written often in this space about my growing passion for the broken and marginalized. Developing my heart for poverty and need is perhaps my most important goal at the moment. My home church (the Vineyard in Colerain) has recently started down this path as well, jumping on the World Vision bandwagon and pushing the book The Hole in Our Gospel, which I cannot wait to read. Sitting through my pastor's sermon about God's heart for the poor last Sunday was one of the best church experiences I have had in a very long time.

Yet, even as I see my church (and many others) beginning to focus on the broken and empty and starving and alone, I still hear Pat Robertson saying that the earthquake in Haiti was vengeance from God. I can't escape Republican talking heads spouting that we should scrap the welfare system, despite the great good it does for many Americans in need. I see judgment placed on the poor and alone, on victims of AIDS and other diseases, on single mothers and children with no fathers. If that is what being Christian is about, I want no part of it.

But then I read this and am renewed:

He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets prisoners free, the LORD gives sight to the blind, the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down, the LORD loves the righteous. The LORD watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.
Psalm 146:7-9

That is the God I want to follow. The one who champions the oppressed and hungry. The one who heals the sick. The one who sustains the fatherless and the widows. The God who does the things I wish I could do, who loves the people I wish I could love when I cannot. I've seen God painted in many different ways over the years, as a warrior and a lover and a creator and a judge and a king. But God as a provider, a sustainer and a father to the broken, oppressed and alone is by far my favorite.

Hearing those words gives me hope. Hope that I can see the oppressed and hungry find real improvement in their lives. Hope that the fatherless and widows will experience love and strength in a tangible way. Hope that God might show me that love too. I've written before about acting in the name of hope, about doing things with that idea in the back of my mind. I'm certainly not backing off from that at all; I still believe that hope is acting in the name of truth, consequences be damned. But I'm starting to realize that those things I am passionate about are also God's passions. My hope can and will certainly manifest in actions, but now I believe it can simply be a state of being. Living in a perpetual state of hope. Maybe these are two different manifestations of hope, maybe they aren't all that different. I don't quite understand everything about that, what implications it has. But it is exciting to think about.

And so on...