Mortality

This past Sunday we began a two-week series entitled The Five Things You Cannot Change. After having spent recent weeks considering the pathway of change, and the possibility that real change is possible, we shifted towards those hard realities outside of ourselves, those aspects of life we realize are immovable.

How do we talk about things that cannot be changed, especially in a “can-do” culture like ours? Such a message would appear to be a non-starter, because so much of our cultural conversation is based on the idea that we can bring real solutions to the problems that face us. And we do solve many things, but not everything. In our more honest moments we have to admit that there are hard and unyielding limits to our human possibilities. The truth is that an unrealistic optimism can paradoxically rebound into the deepest kind of despair. But the Christian faith is able to point to hope while squarely facing the most unyielding of all impossibilities – even our own mortality.

Ernest Becker was a Canadian intellectual whose book The Denial of Death (1973) was published only two months after his death. It won a Pulitzer prize that year and is still considered a penetrating look at the psychology of our culture. The basic premise is that we tend to organize ourselves in ways that keep us from thinking too deeply about our mortality. We want to be part of something lasting, something that does not die. We search for a legacy that outlives us through our projects and causes. While Becker did not believe in God, he did not believe that science could solve our problem of meaning either. He only hoped that a more honest look at our limits would help us live more wisely.

As a Christian and believer in the God of all possibilities, there is something I can gain from the wisdom of Becker. While he did not point to hope beyond death, he was not so naive as to postulate a solution to our existence that was grounded merely in the span of our human years. I agree with Becker that the meaning of my existence somehow outlives the frame of my human years. But even more so, my Christian faith helps me to see that the biggest thing I cannot change – my mortality – is at the same time the opportunity for my biggest hope, the hope of resurrection. For in the light of the biggest thing that I cannot change, my largest hope rests.

This coming Sunday, we continue The Five Things You Cannot Change with a look at two inner qualities that remain constant for all of us. We hope that you can join us at 9:29 or 11:11 am.

Bob

Progress

This past Sunday the via sacra (sacred road) series concluded. Over the previous two weekends, we have contemplated the pathway of real personal change through the lens of prayer and wise decision making. This past Sunday we considered the idea that change involves a progression that begins on a foundation of faith.

Chris suggested this useful image: when the thing that moves you is broken, you are faced with a choice: push the pedal (try harder) or pop the hood (understand what is broken). The Bible suggests that the only effort that matters is the effort that builds upon a truer view of how things really are. And the way we personally align ourselves with this truer view is through faith. Faith “sees”: it sees the person and character of God, it sees the life that Jesus models and gives to those who fully embrace him. Faith sees that while human effort matters, such effort must be built upon a proper sync with reality. The words which ordered our thoughts were taken from the apostle Peter’s second letter:

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. [2 Peter 1:5-7]

The idea of a progressive view of personal change has several implications. First, that change is intimately connected to a view of reality. When we see ourselves as spiritual (not merely material) beings, made by and for God, then we will see how personal transformation must be realized through faith. Faith in the New Testament is simply trust in God, the personal realization that my choices and circumstances can be infused with his ability and help. Faith is ultimately a worldview issue, not a positive mental attitude. Faith is not personal confidence, but God confidence.

Second, a progressive view of personal change understands that we can and should add effort to our faith. This does not mean that grace allows us to “go it alone”. But on the platform of God’s grace, or in the sea of God’s grace, we work out what we have been given. We live and grow and build this life. Faith always embraces a paradox: it rests, even while it works; it trusts even while it tries; it receives, even while it is required to give out. Somehow, through faith, our efforts become more than merely our own.

Third, we learn to put boundaries around the life we are given. We learn to say no to things that hurt us or distract us, and we do this so that the bigger yes of our lives can thrive and be protected. We learn that we need not be pushed around by every agenda, nor corrupted by every cheap substitute. For there is an agenda and a reality that is becoming clearer to us as we walk this way of faith.

And finally, we persevere, or in the words of my old basketball coach, “we keep on keepin’ on”. There is an everyday-ness to this life of faith, a common and unspectacular way in which we progress in life, but with truly wonderful effect. We are becoming.

Purposeful change happens when we are aware of the elements and connections of life, when we have an ecological understanding of things. A plant grows not merely because it has good soil, but because of sunshine and moisture and freedom from disease and pests. Growth is the result of multiple factors working together at the same time. We should see the same conditions for our human transformation: we grow by grace, and relationship, and true ideas, and a myriad of other helping factors. The difference for human transformation is that this doesn’t happen to us without us; we are personally and actively involved in the outcomes. In some mysterious way, we choose to grow while at the same time dependent on gracious conditions which enable our growth and for which we have no real control. For the statement which preceded our text earlier is that God “has given us everything we need for life and godliness” (2 Peter 1:3). And we connect to all of these graces through faith.

This coming Sunday, we continue our discussions on the possibilities of change with a two-part series entitled Five Things You Can’t Not Know. We hope that you can join us at 9:29 or 11:11 am.

A Way to Live

This past Sunday the via sacra (sacred road) series continued with a message entitled “Saying Yes and Saying No”, a meditation on the spiritual path of change. The text which ordered our thoughts was from Paul’s letter to the church at Colossae:

You have died with Christ, and he has set you free from the spiritual powers of this world. So why do you keep on following the rules of the world, such as, “Don’t handle! Don’t taste! Don’t touch!”? Such rules are mere human teachings about things that deteriorate as we use them. These rules may seem wise because they require strong devotion, pious self-denial, and severe bodily discipline. But they provide no help in conquering a person’s evil desires. [Colossians 2:20-23]

These words are part of a longer discussion on what constitutes the nature of the Christian gospel. Paul is addressing the commonly understood idea that change comes by way of saying no to what harms us, a usual reference point for religion. We often think that religion serves us by first describing a way to live and then guards that way with a list of forbidden things. We might think of the ten commands of Moses with it’s “do not...” language. And while Moses list is ultimately life-affirming (we are not served well by lying and murdering), what tends to stand in our consciousness is the formula itself, the language of forbiddance. This may be the thing Paul is trying to correct, a sub-par view of what our faith is about, a cheap and infantile form of religion that exists by what it doesn’t do. Of course, in the narrative flow of how these commands come to us, it is important to see how God’s covenant people needed these commands as a way to protect the life given to them; these were rules to protect the relationship that had already been formed. The rules were not there to make the relationship but to protect it.

But let us step back for a moment. The French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote, “All men seek happiness. This is without exception. Whatever different means they employ, they all tend to this end.” Pascal was commenting on human nature, that we do what we want. We follow our desires, and it is our desires that tend to determine our actions. Even those things we would say we don’t really enjoy doing – our work, our disciplines – we do for the outcomes that we hope to gain. So we do what we want. But what if what we want is not good for us? What if our very desires are corrupted? This is the point where we come into a more correct focus of what the Christian gospel offers us. The gospel is a clarification of our deepest wants, a discovery of the truest and deepest joys, a celebration of life itself. The gospel is our entrance into the life we always knew we wanted but never quite knew how to describe. “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11).

John Piper is the author who coined the term “Christian hedonism” for this generation of Jesus followers. It is his contention that joy, and all things that maximize joy, is the sustaining and transformative secret of the Christian life. In other words, we are changed by journeying towards those things epitomize real and true life, and not merely by avoiding those things which hurt us. While commands are useful, they are not life itself, and Jesus calls us into life.

Saying yes to the bigger things must come first and be firmly planted in our orientation before we are able to say no. Whatever we learn to say no to (and plainly we must) is only made possible by the bigger yes of living, the joy and peace and love we want – and find – in Jesus. The gospel teaches us this vital lesson, that without a bigger yes, any list of forbidding “no’s” is bound to crumble under the weight of our desire to live.

Our via sacra series continues this Sunday with a message entitled “Household Economics”. We hope that you can join us at 9:29 or 11:11 am.

Bob

Via Sacra

This past Sunday we launched into the New Year with a series entitled via sacra (sacred road). To begin our series, and our annual days of prayer, we took time to consider how the psalms teach us to pray.

When we think of prayer, we think most commonly of an exercise in words. But in what way are the words of our prayers to function? Last week, we considered three different “languages” that we speak.

The first is the language of intimacy. Even before we are able to articulate our first words, we communicate a lot about ourselves. There are squeals of delight, the cries of anguish, and the happy sounds of contentment; all of this is rather an unfiltered and immediate revelation of our souls. In the language of intimacy we are being a real person, exposing what is in us. Intimacy is the language of children and lovers, and pray-ers.

We grow into the language of information. Every thing is named, every idea has a corresponding word. Our developing language categorizes and explains the world and helps us connect to the reality that is there. Information is the language of facts, education, and our day-to-day business. It is vital to be sure – but, to speak only this language may not reveal the real person who speaks. Is this prayer, informing God of what he doesn’t know?

And then there is the language of motivation. As we develop language we discover not only what to say but how to say it; we find that the way words are put together matter, that we can shape outcomes by the tone, force, and inflection of our words. So we learn to use language to get what we want, to motivate and to sell, to manipulate and to intimidate. We find that language is a force. Is this prayer? Trying to motivate God?

The language of the Psalm belongs to the first category of language – intimacy – and that is why we tend to pray as poorly as we do. Our most practiced languages are information and motivation. We often resort to informing God as if he simply did not know what was going on, or motivating God as if he were reluctant. But what we find in the psalms is the language of intimacy, of deep personal-ness. And staying with these psalms over time, paying attention to the way they function, their tone of voice, their intimate way of addressing God, trains us again to speak in the language of intimacy. We learn to be children again, not childish, but dependent and open, wondering and receptive. We learn to be lovers of God.

Our via sacra series continues this Sunday with a message entitled “Saying Yes and Saying No”. We hope that you can join us at 9:29 or 11:11 am.

Bob

Happy New Year!

This Sunday we launch into the new year with a series entitled via sacra (sacred road), a series focused on the wisdom of ancient and common Christian spirituality. We are not looking for something new, but things both old and true. Our theme this weekend is The Psalms as the School of Prayer.

For some years now, the Westside community has made it a tradition to begin each new year with days set aside for prayer. This is a shared and sacred time, an intentional break from the busyness of life, days purposed for quietness and space to be with God. During these days, we desire to listen to what God says, and answer back from our truest selves. We do this because we believe that prayer is both basic and necessary to the life of faith.

Every year we construct a prayer walk. This year we have themed our prayer walk to follow this weekend’s message, learning to pray in the way the psalms teach us.

We invite your participation. Our prayer walk will be available all day this coming Monday and Tuesday, from 9 am to 9 pm. You are welcome to come at anytime, follow the prayer walk at your own pace, and record your experience in the guidebook prepared for you. As well, your may wish to attend the specially focused sessions at 10:10 am and 7:07 pm on those days.

Consider this prayer from Psalm 116:

I love the LORD because he hears my voice
and my prayer for mercy.
Because he bends down to listen,
I will pray as long as I have breath!
Death wrapped its ropes around me;
the terrors of the grave overtook me.
I saw only trouble and sorrow.
Then I called on the name of the LORD:
“Please, LORD, save me!”
How kind the LORD is! How good he is!
So merciful, this God of ours!
The LORD protects those of childlike faith;
I was facing death, and he saved me.
Let my soul be at rest again,
for the LORD has been good to me.
He has saved me from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling.
And so I walk in the LORD’s presence
as I live here on earth!

Bob