Weary Heart, Holy Ground

November 11, 2015

Go on down to the silent place,
You who dare to seek God’s face.
For it may be you’ll find down there
An answer for that load you bear.

Stop not at the convenient spot
You’ve been before, for God is not
A landmark on a religious map,
Or a brew poured from some preacher’s tap.

Continue on with your open sores
To solitary haunted shores
Where human voices utter not
One breath of what a true God aught
To do or say or even be,
Except that He once died for thee.

Sit awhile in the cold dark tomb-
That barren place that became the womb
Of every hope we ever had,
And the death of all that makes men mad,
For that is where our God is found.
Your weary heart is holy ground.

Christianity For The Rest Of Us

November 11, 2015

Arguably the one term that carries more baggage than any other, “Christian” is a label defined in a million different ways. It’s a subculture and religion that defined me as I was growing up and a classification I raged against as it fell out of vogue.

And now?

It’s a word that on one hand articulates my deepest longings, and on the other a caricature that I love to make fun of.

I believe that in its truest mystical form, Christianity is a journey – both personal and corporate – marked by allegiance to and apprenticeship under the historical Jesus of Nazareth. Christians confess this Jesus as utterly preeminent, and believe that he is raised from the dead. Truly, that he is the Anointed One spoken of by the ancient prophets and written about in the Holy Bible.

Does it all seem a little too lofty? Too many choir robes and an excessive amount of stained glass? That’s why I write about a Christianity that is For The Rest Of Us…

Let me throw something out there for you to consider:

Christianity, I believe, is a state of being and a way of living that is available to everyone regardless of race, gender, orientation, social standing, or nose-picking technique. I do not, however, believe that it is for everyone. By that I mean that many people (most people?) cultivate a spiritual palate that makes Christianity seem bland at best and nauseating at worst.

There is another group of people, though, that love being Christian. They are proficient and polished. They are the elite that the religious world looks to as the Policy Makers. They are the Gatekeepers. They shed tears of holy water over the sins of the earth, which they define as everyone else.

And then there are the rest of us.

There is very little that we are sure of, and on our own merit even less that we are worthy of. We were the abandoned, discarded and hopeless. And yes, we sin; if something stinks around here, it’s probably because of us.

But I believe with all my heart that hope begins where mushrooms grow.

That is what I write about: Christianity for the Rest of Us.

Christianity 2.0

November 8, 2015

I’m a terrible Christian – a fact that spiritually speaking has always worked in my favour.

Growing up in the conservative church subculture of south-central Alberta, there was no end to the Jacob’s Ladder a young lad had to climb to attain spiritual maturity. It started with a prayer, combined with the common sense to abstain from smoking, alcohol, movie theatres and pool halls. This was Christianity for Dummies. Hatred for communists, playing cards and Rock ‘n’ Roll showed our elders that we had the potential for something greater.

I could fudge my way through these prerequisites, but after that my spiritual DNA mapping took a detour.

I tried, dammit. My faux-leather Bible cover was stuffed with Sunday School papers. I logged hundreds of humble miles down the aisles of all kinds of churches, my spirit clothed in I’ll-be-a-better-witness sackcloth. It wasn’t long before people started thinking I was enlightened beyond my years, simply because I took to heart the Proverb that says, “Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent.” Lastly, I’d make sure that any reference to the ancient scriptures was followed by the chapter, verse and version from whence it was gleaned.(Proverbs 17:28 ESV, in case you were wondering, with the translation stated in a condescending acronym because true believers don’t need the whole thing spelled out.)

There was one point, though, where I was a total failure: the elusive Quiet Time. I couldn’t get the formula right. All I knew was that it was different for everybody, and to be more than spiritually anemic I needed to find my own perfect combination of Time of Day, Duration and Devotional.

I’ve been a Christian probably longer than half of the world’s population has been alive, and I still haven’t figured it out.

“So,” you ask, “how did this failure to live up to such a foundational discipline work in my favour?”

Easy. I supplemented my lack of dedication with one simple, heartfelt prayer:

“GOD HELP ME!”

It helped to say this often. Over and over. Lots.

The same prayer uttered in less panicked moments has been loosely translated into “God, have mercy”, or even simply a weary sigh of “Oh God” or “Jesus”. It is a reflex prayer, but is nonetheless sincere. An awareness that prior religious works are impotent accompanies this invocation; often a recognition so deep as to be barely acknowledged.

This is the beginning of Christianity 2.0.

In time Jesus becomes everything, as I am reduced to ashes. A quest for the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, self-control and so forth – is laid to rest as I hunger instead for the Spirit alone.

My computer and the apps on my phone seem to need constant updates. The software developers are always adding something to make things go faster or run smoother. It drives me crazy; just give me the real thing! How refreshing it has been to find that upgrading my Christian experience begins with downgrading the religious caca.

The ancient prophet Isaiah wrote, “This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it…””

Let it be said of us, that we would have ALL of it. If spiritual strength comes through quietness and trust, may my whole life be a Quiet Time.