where is God?

There are some books that I take a long time to read. One of those is The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by James Martin S.J. It is filled with stories, advice, quotes, and wisdom on a wide range of spiritual topics, all offered within an Ignatian framework. Though it is a very accessible read, I find myself not rushing through it; I want to stop and think, stop and pray, stop and work out the things I read about.

This morning I read something in Martin's book which hit very close to home. The author has a condition which has been diagnosed as repetitive strain injury. Since his theological study days, he has suffered shooting pains in his hands and wrists which affect how much he can type and write. While working at a magazine, he became increasingly frustrated at the situation. He asked: "Why would God do this? What was the sense of a writer who couldn't write? What was the point? ... Why would God prevent the work that I was missioned to do?" He tried everything from holistic healers and acupuncturists to faith healers. Nothing much changed. Over time he learned to manage the condition through massage, exercises, and stretching, but he was still limited in how much time he could spend writing. One day when Martin was confessing his frustration about the situation to his spiritual director, the man asked him, "Is God anywhere in this?" It was a question Martin had grown to hate and he responded emphatically, "No!" His spiritual director insisted: "Really? Nowhere?"

Martin, almost despite himself, began to recount all the ways this condition had changed him. Let me quote his words:

Since I could only type for a short period of time each day ... I was more grateful for what I was able to write, because I knew that it was only thanks to God's grace and gift of health, even if temporary. I was more careful about what I wrote too. Perhaps I was becoming more patient, too, since I couldn't do everything at once. And I was less likely to get a swelled head, since I couldn't talk about the grandiose plans I had for future writing. And I was more aware of others with physical limitations and with far graver illnesses. Maybe I was becoming more compassionate. ... I'm more conscious of how much I rely on God ... since I can't do anything on my own.  (Martin, 288-89)

I often privately bemoan the weaknesses that I have as a student, teacher, and writer: I also experience occasional pain in my left arm and hand from strain, I feel uninspired and unmotivated too much of the time, I can't remember things I read a few days or even hours ago, I write agonizingly slowly, taking hours to eek out a paragraph or two, and compared to others in my field, my writings appear ineloquent and often lack the necessary breadth of knowledge. In pressured situations, I sometimes draw a blank when asked a question about something that I should know. Preparation for any kind of teaching situation usually takes a tremendous amount of energy, time, and labour.

And yet, with Martin, I admit to seeing signs of God in my situation. I am grateful every time I finish a writing project of any length or complete a teaching assignment, knowing how impossible it seemed before and during the task. I have grown in patience with myself and others and learned diligence. I am more gracious with those who have learning difficulties or must overcome limitations. I am learning that being careful with each word and thought is to be valued above the ability to finish things quickly. I study and write in a state of peace most days, calm and focused. Like Martin, my weaknesses make me more aware of the presence of God and how much I rely on divine guidance to help me through daily tasks.

Talking about suffering with any integrity, Martin suggests, demands a personal narrative. It demands that we live with acceptance, grace, humility, and obedience in our present situation. And we learn how to find God in it. Thanks, Jim.

Life as an expat

Portzelky, a Mennonite treat.
Image from: www.littlecookontheprairie.blogspot.com

Living in a culture or place different from the one you grew up in is not always easy. Montreal is full of expatriates (ex = out of, patria = fatherland) who are trying to build a new life removed from their place of origin. In reading through the book of Daniel again, I discovered that the stories therein reveal some excellent wisdom for expats of all kinds.

First, a bit about expats. Expatriates are different from immigrants in that they are, for the most part, skilled workers who have been sent by their company to work in another location. Expats can be identified by their loyalties; they are always rooting for their home teams. Just this past week, Canadians living in the USA congregated at Canada House in Washington DC wearing red and white and cheering on the Canadian hockey teams. Many expats can also be identified by the way they talk; their accents give away the fact that they are from somewhere else. For example, if you are North American and say "Rise Up Lights," you are commanding lights to arise. However, if you are an Aussie, this same phonetic phrase is actually heard as "Razor Blades." Cool, right?  Expats are famous for eating food from their native country or culture. This is why you can find Chinese restaurants, Italian eateries, a restaurant called The Alpenhaus, and of course, a wide selection of French patisseries in Montreal. And this is also why you will find me hunting down the Mennonite fried dough delight, portzelky, every December (see photo).

Now, on to Daniel. Daniel was a godly, upstanding young man living in Judah during the reign of Jehoiakim, but it turns out that he was the exception. Judah had become a nation filled with people who adopted the wicked ways of their pagan neighbours, did pretty much whatever they wanted, and ignored years and years of warnings from the prophets to turn back to God (see Jeremiah 25). As a result of Israel's disregard for God's directive to be a holy people who would heal the land they had been given and cause it to flourish, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon conquered Jerusalem and carried off their finest youths as well as the sacred vessels from the temple. Daniel and three of his friends were among those who ended up in Babylon and began a program of training to work in the king's courts.

The goal was to assimilate these young leaders into Babylonian culture. Their names were changed (Daniel which means "God is my judge" was changed to Belteshazzar which means "may Bel (a pagan god) protect his life"). The three-year training period also included eating the rich food available in the palace. Daniel was wary of being absorbed into the culture, especially when the Babylonian values clashed with his worship of the God of Israel. He asked to be excused from the royal diet and be given food which had not been offered up to Bel-Marduk, the Babylonian deity, and instead was in keeping with Israelite dietary laws. Due to Daniel's skill as a negotiator, his boss agreed to have the four young men do a test run of an alternative, vegetarian diet to see if it had any ill effects. We all know the story; the Israelite diet was a success and after the end of the trial period, Daniel and his friends appeared more robust than all the others.

The clash between two ways of life is evident in this story: 1) Daniel's loyalty remained with the God of Israel despite insertion into a foreign culture and a name change which honoured the pagan god, Bel-Marduk, 2) Daniel went along with much of what was asked of him, but was very careful about what he took in, believing that the Hebrew dietary laws reflected that he was God's, whereas the Babylonian diet reflected homage to Marduk, 3) Daniel's demeanour was noticeably distinct from the Babylonian attitude. Instead of having a conquering or revolution mindset, Daniel exhibited a humble, respectful attitude to his captors and overseers.

As citizens of the kingdom of God, we don't always feel at home in this world. Some Christians want to take over the world and enforce godliness (Jesus' disciples exhibited these tendencies and humanity is notorious for wanting to mix religion and politics). Other followers of Jesus want to isolate themselves and live separate from this world. I don't see that as a viable, long-term option when our example is One who came to live among us in our broken, corrupt world. In essence, we are "in" this world, but we are not to be a product "of" our world's culture.

Let me offer some lessons to be gleaned from Daniel the expatriate which might be useful to those of us living in a land other than the one we grew up in. They might also prove helpful to us as we remember that we are first and foremost citizens of the kingdom of God.

1. We are sent by God. As expats, it can be tempting to adopt the attitude that we are somehow the victims of unfortunate circumstances, held hostage here. We can spend our time longing for the homeland (escapism) and living in the past (or the future). Daniel never acted like he was enslaved; he lived like a free man because he was confident that he was where he was because God had sent him.
2. We are called to serve with wisdom and humility for the good of this world, not to overthrow it (adopting the conquering mentality of Babylon) or to self-righteously isolate ourselves from it, but to bring the presence of God to it. This is the vocation that the Israelites rejected.
3. The values of this world/culture and the values of the kingdom of God will often clash. Our identity as children of God must be solid enough to allow us to live and work anywhere without being threatened or fearful.  We must also develop the wisdom and discernment to know when our loyalty to Christ is being challenged. In those circumstances, we must learn to say "no" with respect, humility, confidence, and creativity.

As disciples of Jesus, our food is not the rich offerings of this world's palaces, but the body and blood of Christ. Let us take this food in; let it define whose we are. Let it keep us away from idols which can enslave us. May it bring freedom and grace to us and to our world. Let us ask God to give us strength to live in an imperfect and foreign world without frustration, anger, or complaint. Let this food be Life and Truth to us.

Jesus prayed for his disciples: "Like Me, they are not products of the corrupt world order. Immerse them in the truth, the truth Your voice speaks. In the same way You sent Me into this world, I am sending them." (John 17: 16-18, The Voice).

This material is taken from a series I am teaching in our faith community called "Life as an Expat: Stories from the book of Daniel."

a few thoughts on WWJD

Image from christianbracelets.com

I have never owned a What Would Jesus Do? bracelet and I probably never will. Don't get me wrong, I think the campaign has its merits, especially if it makes people more thoughtful in their decisions and encourages them to more closely align their lives with the life of Jesus. This was no doubt the intention of Charles M. Sheldon who penned the 1896 novel, In His Steps: What Would Jesus Do? and continues to be the objective of subsequent popularisers of the catchy phrase. But to me, the question seems odd. Let me give you an example. Dean has a great deal of knowledge in the area of business and finance, a lot more than I will ever have. However, when I am faced with a financial decision or need business advice, I never ask myself, "What would Dean do?" I just talk to him. I tell him about my situation and express my concerns and fears. We have a conversation about the various options and we work it through together. There is never a hypothetical question with a hypothetical answer.

WWJD strikes me as odd because the question is phrased in such a way that it seems like I am trying to estimate what a friend (or acquaintance) might do were he or she in my shoes even though they are not. In reality, it is a bit of a guessing game. I offer my best guess based on what I think they would likely do. It is not direct imitation of specific acts (in which case we would find WWJD proponents spending most of their time healing and feeding people, telling stories about the kingdom of God, and walking along dusty roads with a bunch of disciples). The question is hypothetical. And that is a big problem. I have never liked hypothetical questions and for the most part choose not to answer them. In most cases they have very little relevance to reality and involve a great deal of speculation based on incomplete information. In addition, they rarely move us to any real action or change.

Does this hypothetical question, WWJD, really reflect the way we are to follow Jesus? Is being a Christian basically making good, perhaps even educated guesses? I hope not. The more important question is this: is WWJD the way that Jesus himself instructed his followers to live? I don’t believe it is. In John 14 we find Jesus talking to his disciples about what will happen after he leaves. He says: "I will ask the Father to send you another Helper, the Spirit of truth, who will remain constantly with you. The world does not recognize the Spirit of truth, because it does not know the Spirit and is unable to receive Him. But you do know the Spirit because He lives with you, and He will dwell in you. ... The one who loves Me will do the things I have commanded. My Father loves everyone who loves Me; and I will love you and reveal My heart, will, and nature to you." (The Voice)

One of the major problems I have with WWJD is that it is a question we ask ourselves as if Jesus were not present. As if he had not given us the Spirit of truth to live in us and instruct us in all things. The Spirit of Jesus is here with us, so we can speak directly to our Lord.  Instead of asking, “What would Jesus do?” we can pray: Jesus, please show me where you are right now in this situation. Spirit of God, teach me how to lovingly participate in your action in this world. Father of love, who and what are you compelling me towards? How are you calling me to move away from pride and fear and step into humble identification with your life, death, and resurrection? How can I walk in faith, hope, and love this day, this moment, right now? What do we do now, Jesus?  

I wrote a poem

Walking on the beach at Lunan Bay Scotland. A 'Yes' moment!

Around 8 months ago I jotted down the beginnings of a poem. Today I came across the rough draft and thought perhaps it was time to finish it. If I remember correctly, I hastily typed those first words in a rush of joy and exuberance, absolutely besotted with being alive and surrounded by so much goodness. This evening, in a more contemplative state of mind, I edited it and added a final stanza. It is a poem about hope, celebration, gifts, limitations, and sobering gratitude. It is a poem about saying yes to life, all of it.

The Poem of Yes

by Matte Downey 

Do you ever just want to write a poem? 

Because you want to say something delicious

Create something frothy and delightful

Mold something with edgy consonants and soothing vowels

Paint a picture with adjectives which have the potential to startle the mind and make someone go “Oh!”

Do you ever just want to dance and jump? 

Because there’s no good reason for it but jumping is what you do when you’re alive and you have legs

And dancing is what you do when you are alone and unafraid and miss someone you love

And dancing and jumping is what you do when adjectives are just not enough

Do you ever just want to cry? 

Because there is too much pain in the world and it has numbed us all

Made us a little too cynical

Too sure of ourselves

Too immune to small disasters

And too blind to big ones

Or maybe just because the story unfolding before you is too beautiful and the weight of life too heavy to carry without tears

And crying is what you do when the time for dancing and jumping is past

Do you ever just want to smell everything? 

Like the sweet tang of freshly cut grass

Because that particular smell is not available year-round in Canada

Like the sweaty clothes lying on the floor after a day filled with sunshine and playing outside

Or scrubbing the back deck 

Like the garbage in your kitchen 

Because the rank odour reminds you of last night’s party with chicken drumsticks

And the overripe strawberries you had to throw out because you just couldn’t eat another bite

And it makes you sad because not everyone has the privilege of a stinky garbage

And smelling everything is what you do after you have cried and wiped your nose

Do you ever just want to stand and look at the sky as it changes minute by minute? 

Or listen to the sounds of people walking on crunchy snow?

Or breathe in breath after breath of sharp cold air on a clear night?

Or stroke the cat's fur and feel her small chest rise and fall in half-slumber?

Because sometimes you realize just for a moment that you are very alive in a 

Wonderful

Terrible

Overwhelming

Intoxicating

World

And it makes your heart want to burst

And let out a long, primal scream which could be translated roughly as "I hear you calling! Here I am!"

the small stuff

One of the buttons I am sewing onto a piece of clothing today

If you are like me, you spend a lot of time attending to details and often these time-consuming tasks don't seem to affect much in the grand scheme of life. But they do. Today I wrote a little something for a practical theology blog about finding holiness and inspiration in the details of life. It comes from engaging with Ezekiel 40-43 where we find lots of detailed measurements and instructions for building the temple. Click here to read it.

And enjoy the small stuff of life!

counter culture

Iona Abbey

This morning I taught a class on monasticism and we focused on the counter-cultural aspect of this particular expression of spirituality. It brought up some interesting questions: is being counter-cultural imperative if one is a follower of Jesus? How distinctive should a Christian lifestyle be? It is easy to identify certain religious sects by their dress, rituals, or closed communities, but exactly how important are these outward differentiations? I don't know that I have a definitive answer, but Jesus certainly indicated that those who follow him and embrace his teachings will exhibit certain distinctives. Here are a few that I found and none of them have anything to do with clothing, rituals, or separating oneself from society.

LOVE. This is not the same as our culture's call for tolerance. Love is more difficult than tolerance because Jesus asks us to do more than just let people do what they do. Jesus calls us to care deeply about their well-being and to lay down our lives for them. Love means that we do not objectify people or people groups. Love means that we don't make sweeping generalizations like "street people are irresponsible" or "Muslims are violent." Love means that we speak up when people are portrayed as objects of desire and that we treat every person with respect, no matter how different their views or lifestyle may be from ours. Love insists that we are willing to hug anyone, willing to share a meal with anyone, and willing to listen to anyone. We are to be known by our love. We, like Jesus, should be friends with sinners.

HEALING.  Wherever Jesus went, healing followed, and he expected the same of his disciples. Followers of Jesus bring healing. This means that we make situations better and not worse. This means that we do not pit people against each other but work towards reconciliation. This means that we do not utter words of judgment and destruction but speak words of life. This means that we bring hope instead of giving in to despair. This means that we always expect the kingdom of God to break in, intervene, and make us whole. This means that we never shut the door on redemption and forgiveness. This means that we offer healing prayers, kindness, and physical help to the sick and suffering. Healing may be instantaneous or a long process, but if we pattern our lives after Jesus, we should be seeing broken lives become whole.

COURAGE. People who encountered Peter and John after their infusion with the Holy Spirit noted three things: 1) they were simple, ordinary men, 2) they were courageous, and 3) they had been with Jesus. These three distinctives should mark any follower of Jesus. Do people remark that we are quite ordinary? Good. Do people note that we have courage which seems unexplainable given our present circumstances? Great! Do people observe that we remind them of Jesus? That's the best thing they can say!

NOT PROMOTING OURSELVES. Jesus did not draw attention to himself or seek fame. He went about working, healing, teaching, giving, praying, and offering people freedom and friendship. He did not come to kick-start a new movement, but to serve others, to seek out the wayward ones and offer them help, to show the ones without hope that God was not as far away as they thought. He was humble, meek, lowly, not a supermodel, not a movie star, and not a great marketer. He just did what his Father asked him to do.

AT REST. Jesus was never frenzied, not overextended, not trying to keep up with a hectic schedule, not tweeting about his latest exploits, not working hard to keep the masses engaged. In fact, he invited those who were weary and fatigued by life to come and find rest in him. He was not constantly overworked and overextended. He came as the Prince of Peace.

Let me be marked by the things that made Jesus so extraordinary in his time, so different, so attractive and controversial. Let me be counter-cultural in all the ways Jesus was.

jump for joy

Skier about to head down the mountain in Adelboden, Switzerland

Wednesday was one of those days when I had to fight to maintain a sense of well-being. To be honest, there were quite a few moments when I didn't quite manage it. The contentment and hope that I usually live in leaked out somewhere along the way and I couldn't patch the hole fast enough to keep low level despair from moving into my soul. I could attribute this "down" day to a mistake or two I made recently (actually, make that at least three), the sinus infection that was making me woozy and slow, or some rather curt emails from a colleague which led me to conclude that he hated me. I have also been finding teaching a burden and a chore, unsure how to fill the 2.75 hours of class-time each Friday morning, certain that I don't know enough, don't explain things clearly enough, and am not really prepared for the barrage of questions that come up on virtually every topic. In addition, writing has seemed like a giant mountain I just can't climb, so I don't even start.

I had that sinking feeling that I was on a path that I shouldn't be on because it was taking me somewhere I didn't really didn't want to be: stuck in a job that I didn't do very well and no longer enjoyed. Had I been kidding myself all this time? Had the novelty of going back to school finally worn off as stark reality dashed cold water on my face to awaken me to the brutal truth? I felt trapped, alone, afraid, and a bit sick to my stomach. What a mess!

In bed that night, tired and discouraged, I laid the mess out before the Creator of the Universe to see what he could make of it. Was my decision to pursue doctoral studies just another mistake in a long line of miscalculated and ill-conceived actions? Short answer: no. But something had changed. Somewhere along the line I had traded brave hope and simple reliance on God for a certain amount of proficiency. For me, joy comes at the intersection of wonder, humility, gratitude, and courage to try something that by all accounts probably shouldn't work if it weren't for the grace of God (and scares me silly if I am honest). My learning journey has been like taking leap after leap from the known into the unknown and being caught in the arms of a loving Father over and over again. How can one not squeal with delight at jumping over great, scary chasms into safety? So when I find myself no longer squealing, perhaps it is because I no longer jump. Perhaps I have been plodding with heavy and tottering steps from A to B, taking the long road through the valley and up a steep incline because I have found that these spindly legs can be made to do that. It is slow, tedious, and extremely tiring, but I can manage. No joy, but I get by.

Somehow I have to find my way back to leaping instead of plodding. Somehow I have to find my way back to joy, and the only way I know to do that is to stop trying to get it all right by not taking any risks, to stop working so hard at doing everything perfectly and remember again how to oooh and aaaah at the passing scenery, to stop obsessing about how I will be perceived by students, colleagues, and professors and instead, share the wonder that I am witness to every day. Somehow I have to remember that my vocation is not to be a great writer and teacher, but to be loved by a generous and good God. And when I receive this love, I find that I can write, I can teach, I can learn, I can jump.

"I finally figured out it wasn't just about performing, it's just accepting his love."

- Mike Fisher, NHL player, Nashville Predators

You can catch Mike's brief talk for the I Am Second project here.