You know when you are by yourself and you start a conversation with yourself and it is going great. You’re saying all the right things, you have the best responses and come-backs. You’re funny, witty, clever, and even a little romantic. You would definitely be cool if you were talking with other people. You would be the hit of the party, everyone’s friend. But then you realize, you are not talking to those other people. You are by yourself. And the mere fact that you have just had that conversation with yourself makes you even less cool.
Thank you for your empathy.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Heaven: What’s it like?
That great future mystery that so many of us hope to experience after death at some point. What is it? What does it look like?
I have no clue.
I’d say that most people would picture heaven a specific way, though. A bright, cloudy, spirit-y place. Maybe a place with a bunch of singing. A place where angels dwell. Possibly even pearly gates.
But I think what is more common is a type of assumption we all have had at one point about what heaven will be like in the sense of what we will be doing. I have often pictured heaven as a place where we will all just lounge around and rest. Maybe some big church services. I know some people believe it will be a place to ask questions and finally find answers. Maybe it is a place of true, ultimate enjoyment. I don’t doubt that, but I don’t know if it will be enjoyment as we think of that now. I question my own assumptions of heaven being a place to sit around and drink lemonade all day being somehow waited upon by God. I don’t know that he will just give us all good things in the form of a big party. I don’t know if that is what ultimate enjoyment, or ultimate worship, is.
I just got back from serving as a leader at a Wyldlife summer camp. Only one boy from our area came, so he was the only one I was in charge of. His name was Alex and he has Down syndrome. It was definitely a tough week for me, but also one of the most fulfilling weeks of my life. I was able (and forced) to completely serve. I gave of myself more completely than I ever have before. And in the middle of it I wondered – what if heaven was like this all the time?
What if heaven was a place where we could completely give of ourselves in service to other people? What if heaven is a place where we are so close to God that we can constantly be poured out? What if heaven is a place where we will finally be able to truly serve, to finally begin to live the way Jesus told us to live?
I don’t doubt that it will be restful even this way. I believe that heaven will be a place of worship, just maybe that will look different than we are used to. I also don’t think that this is something only reserved for the distant future. I think that I experienced a little piece of heaven this past week in spending time with Alex and pouring myself out in serving him.
“If I could become the servant of all – no lower place to fall.” –mewithoutYou (Aaron Weiss)
Mark 10:35-45
The Holy Bible, New International Version
Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.”
“What do you want me to do for you?” he asked.
They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”
“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?”
“We can,” they answered. Jesus said to them, “You will drink the cup I drink and be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with,
but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared.”
When the ten heard about this, they became indignant with James and John.
Jesus called them together and said, “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them.
Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant,
and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all.
For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
I have no clue.
I’d say that most people would picture heaven a specific way, though. A bright, cloudy, spirit-y place. Maybe a place with a bunch of singing. A place where angels dwell. Possibly even pearly gates.
But I think what is more common is a type of assumption we all have had at one point about what heaven will be like in the sense of what we will be doing. I have often pictured heaven as a place where we will all just lounge around and rest. Maybe some big church services. I know some people believe it will be a place to ask questions and finally find answers. Maybe it is a place of true, ultimate enjoyment. I don’t doubt that, but I don’t know if it will be enjoyment as we think of that now. I question my own assumptions of heaven being a place to sit around and drink lemonade all day being somehow waited upon by God. I don’t know that he will just give us all good things in the form of a big party. I don’t know if that is what ultimate enjoyment, or ultimate worship, is.
I just got back from serving as a leader at a Wyldlife summer camp. Only one boy from our area came, so he was the only one I was in charge of. His name was Alex and he has Down syndrome. It was definitely a tough week for me, but also one of the most fulfilling weeks of my life. I was able (and forced) to completely serve. I gave of myself more completely than I ever have before. And in the middle of it I wondered – what if heaven was like this all the time?
What if heaven was a place where we could completely give of ourselves in service to other people? What if heaven is a place where we are so close to God that we can constantly be poured out? What if heaven is a place where we will finally be able to truly serve, to finally begin to live the way Jesus told us to live?
I don’t doubt that it will be restful even this way. I believe that heaven will be a place of worship, just maybe that will look different than we are used to. I also don’t think that this is something only reserved for the distant future. I think that I experienced a little piece of heaven this past week in spending time with Alex and pouring myself out in serving him.
“If I could become the servant of all – no lower place to fall.” –mewithoutYou (Aaron Weiss)
Mark 10:35-45
The Holy Bible, New International Version
Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.”
“What do you want me to do for you?” he asked.
They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”
“You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?”
“We can,” they answered. Jesus said to them, “You will drink the cup I drink and be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with,
but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared.”
When the ten heard about this, they became indignant with James and John.
Jesus called them together and said, “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them.
Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant,
and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all.
For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
About the last post
I just have to remember that I am the bucket and not the water. I cannot even claim the water as my own by right. It is a gift that fulfills my purpose.
I went back and forth on whether or not to draw little buckets under the main one being filled by the water coming out of it (that is the inferential meaning behind the streams coming down), but now I think it would have been fine. The water is the same water even after passing through me. I am not so dirty or broken that I can ruin that rush of water. And some buckets may only be filled by the overflow from me.
I just hope that all I ever pass on (in all my life) is the water.
I went back and forth on whether or not to draw little buckets under the main one being filled by the water coming out of it (that is the inferential meaning behind the streams coming down), but now I think it would have been fine. The water is the same water even after passing through me. I am not so dirty or broken that I can ruin that rush of water. And some buckets may only be filled by the overflow from me.
I just hope that all I ever pass on (in all my life) is the water.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Living Water
A sketch I made today (pencil):
Eph 3:14-21
For this reason I kneel before the Father,
from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name.
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being,
so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,
may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,
and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,
to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen
Eph 3:14-21
For this reason I kneel before the Father,
from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name.
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being,
so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love,
may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ,
and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,
to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The Ant Farmer
Here is a story. It is ture.
One day a little boy from a neighborhood not too far away was playing outside in his front yard. It was a nice summer day with a deep blue sky and cool green grass. A comforting summer breeze blew through the trees to make the leaves rub against each other making a sound as if the trees were trying to speak out, or as if they were speaking out, just not in a human language. The boy looked up as if understanding a tree in full and walked over to its trunk. There the boy found a rather large ant bed. Now this boy absolutely loved ants. The skinny red ones, the big black ones, those that live in trees, those that dig deep beneath the earth, the kind that cut intricate designs in leaves, the kinds that seem busy and the kinds that seem even busier.
The boy would sit and watch the ants for hours. There was a simplicity to their lives that they seemed to complicate so much. Where are they constantly going? What are they constantly doing?
The boy suddenly awoke as if from a trance as a car pulled into his driveway. His brother got out, the brother who hates ants. This brother would destroy an ant bed just because there was nothing better to do. Just to see his large footprint imbedded in the dirt and crippled remains of the home and lives of so many ants. Just to see his brother tear up a little.
So the little boy decided that that would not happen this time. He had never had an ant farm, but immediately became determined to make one. He found some clear sheets of glass in the backyard that were extra pieces from a hummingbird feeder that was recently constructed. He carefully pieced together the glass and some wood into a nice thin box and filled it with dirt. He spent three days constructing it all and making sure the moisture level was perfect for his new ants, all the while praying that his brother would not see what he was doing or see the ant pile.
The boy did not want to forcibly remove the ants from their home, so he set out the newly built ant farm in the hope that some of the ants would choose to enter it. He left it out for two days. While this was happening he raided the kitchen and the neighbor’s yards in order to collect plenty of seeds, pollen, grain, and leaves to sustain the ants. He got big seeds and small seeds, purple flowers and yellow flowers, tall grain and short grain from the neighbor’s field, thick big, dark green leaves from the tall oak trees and small skinny, light green leaves from the new elm trees. He also got a few sugary sweets like orange peels for the ants. During the second night of having the art farm out, the boy went to see what it was like. To his complete joy, the ant farm was filled with a perfect amount of ants! So, he made sure that there were none coming or going and took the ant farm back to his room. He put on the lid and marveled at this new, exciting world. He knew that to really take care of it, he would have to get some rest now, so he went to sleep along with his new bit of creation.
After this, the boy would just sit and watch the ants all day. Everything they did was amazing to him. He could sit squatting on his bed for hours just staring into the ant farm, watching the ants make their intricate tunnels. He wanted to help them so bad so that they could rest and just enjoy their new home, but he knew that it would only disturb them and that it was something they had to do on their own. But the boy would often take off the lid to talk to the ants. He knew they wouldn’t be able to understand him, but he felt a great need to do this.
When he did open the lid, often some ants would try to climb out. When this happened, the boy would carefully offer his finger for the ants to crawl on and he would deliver them back into their home onto the right path. They would bite him as he did this, but he didn’t care and even in mid bite, he would still calmly deliver the ants back into the safety and security of the ant farm. He knew they would not be able to survive in his room.
After a while, the ants made some really extravagant tunnels and had used just about all the space they had. They didn’t need anything more, but they kept themselves busy scurrying around, testing this bit of sand and that. But ultimately, they were happy. The ants were grateful for their new home and the community they now had. They did not know why they were so lucky to have incurred this blessing of stability and comfort. And every now and then they even got to hear the Great Voice speaking to them. They couldn’t understand it, but would try to climb up to praise it. Some of the braver ones even climbed out of the security of their home to try to express their appreciation to the Great Voice. But, it is a scary world and no one had ever made it. They were sad at those times that they could not really bring the Great Voice their thanks. They felt that they could not do anything worthy enough to really bring It their appreciation. They would jump around dancing and singing. They would collect the best seeds and sweetest grains to set aside for the Great Voice. They would work their hardest to build special tunnels, tunnels that twirled, tunnels that looped, tunnels that were so ornately decorated that even the queen felt unworthy to travel in. They cut up leaves into the most beautiful designs they could. The best ant artisans were constantly employed in designing and arranging these leaves in a pleasing way. Still, they just felt that there was nothing they could do to express their gratitude, their love of the Great Voice, in full. But they kept trying and straining with all their might.
Meanwhile, the little boy continued to love the ants. He enjoyed all their work and wanted the best for them. Yet, he still wished that they would just relax and enjoy the world he gave to them. Nevertheless, he continued to watch over them, talk to them, tell them how much he loved and cared about them. And he knew deep down inside that in some way, the ants knew this, that love was being conveyed regardless of what was happening.
One day a little boy from a neighborhood not too far away was playing outside in his front yard. It was a nice summer day with a deep blue sky and cool green grass. A comforting summer breeze blew through the trees to make the leaves rub against each other making a sound as if the trees were trying to speak out, or as if they were speaking out, just not in a human language. The boy looked up as if understanding a tree in full and walked over to its trunk. There the boy found a rather large ant bed. Now this boy absolutely loved ants. The skinny red ones, the big black ones, those that live in trees, those that dig deep beneath the earth, the kind that cut intricate designs in leaves, the kinds that seem busy and the kinds that seem even busier.
The boy would sit and watch the ants for hours. There was a simplicity to their lives that they seemed to complicate so much. Where are they constantly going? What are they constantly doing?
The boy suddenly awoke as if from a trance as a car pulled into his driveway. His brother got out, the brother who hates ants. This brother would destroy an ant bed just because there was nothing better to do. Just to see his large footprint imbedded in the dirt and crippled remains of the home and lives of so many ants. Just to see his brother tear up a little.
So the little boy decided that that would not happen this time. He had never had an ant farm, but immediately became determined to make one. He found some clear sheets of glass in the backyard that were extra pieces from a hummingbird feeder that was recently constructed. He carefully pieced together the glass and some wood into a nice thin box and filled it with dirt. He spent three days constructing it all and making sure the moisture level was perfect for his new ants, all the while praying that his brother would not see what he was doing or see the ant pile.
The boy did not want to forcibly remove the ants from their home, so he set out the newly built ant farm in the hope that some of the ants would choose to enter it. He left it out for two days. While this was happening he raided the kitchen and the neighbor’s yards in order to collect plenty of seeds, pollen, grain, and leaves to sustain the ants. He got big seeds and small seeds, purple flowers and yellow flowers, tall grain and short grain from the neighbor’s field, thick big, dark green leaves from the tall oak trees and small skinny, light green leaves from the new elm trees. He also got a few sugary sweets like orange peels for the ants. During the second night of having the art farm out, the boy went to see what it was like. To his complete joy, the ant farm was filled with a perfect amount of ants! So, he made sure that there were none coming or going and took the ant farm back to his room. He put on the lid and marveled at this new, exciting world. He knew that to really take care of it, he would have to get some rest now, so he went to sleep along with his new bit of creation.
After this, the boy would just sit and watch the ants all day. Everything they did was amazing to him. He could sit squatting on his bed for hours just staring into the ant farm, watching the ants make their intricate tunnels. He wanted to help them so bad so that they could rest and just enjoy their new home, but he knew that it would only disturb them and that it was something they had to do on their own. But the boy would often take off the lid to talk to the ants. He knew they wouldn’t be able to understand him, but he felt a great need to do this.
When he did open the lid, often some ants would try to climb out. When this happened, the boy would carefully offer his finger for the ants to crawl on and he would deliver them back into their home onto the right path. They would bite him as he did this, but he didn’t care and even in mid bite, he would still calmly deliver the ants back into the safety and security of the ant farm. He knew they would not be able to survive in his room.
After a while, the ants made some really extravagant tunnels and had used just about all the space they had. They didn’t need anything more, but they kept themselves busy scurrying around, testing this bit of sand and that. But ultimately, they were happy. The ants were grateful for their new home and the community they now had. They did not know why they were so lucky to have incurred this blessing of stability and comfort. And every now and then they even got to hear the Great Voice speaking to them. They couldn’t understand it, but would try to climb up to praise it. Some of the braver ones even climbed out of the security of their home to try to express their appreciation to the Great Voice. But, it is a scary world and no one had ever made it. They were sad at those times that they could not really bring the Great Voice their thanks. They felt that they could not do anything worthy enough to really bring It their appreciation. They would jump around dancing and singing. They would collect the best seeds and sweetest grains to set aside for the Great Voice. They would work their hardest to build special tunnels, tunnels that twirled, tunnels that looped, tunnels that were so ornately decorated that even the queen felt unworthy to travel in. They cut up leaves into the most beautiful designs they could. The best ant artisans were constantly employed in designing and arranging these leaves in a pleasing way. Still, they just felt that there was nothing they could do to express their gratitude, their love of the Great Voice, in full. But they kept trying and straining with all their might.
Meanwhile, the little boy continued to love the ants. He enjoyed all their work and wanted the best for them. Yet, he still wished that they would just relax and enjoy the world he gave to them. Nevertheless, he continued to watch over them, talk to them, tell them how much he loved and cared about them. And he knew deep down inside that in some way, the ants knew this, that love was being conveyed regardless of what was happening.
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