I Want To Live

Religions are fantastical life killers.

The stuff of legend really.  

And complete and total enigmatic paradoxes to boot.

The very thing they all seem to be going for at their core, making sense out of our existence, is most often provided for in terms of simply surviving it...because meaning will come later.

For the most part, you name a religion, any religion, anywhere, believing in any god, or no god at all, with whatever outcome, and that is what it boils down to.  The question of what does this life really matter, is most often answered in some form of, it matters in getting us to the next.  That's it.  All will be revealed in the life to come.  ...just make sure you get to the next one.

The problem for the majority of human beings, and it is a real problem if you are one who has been influenced by any of our many world religions (here's a hint...you have), is that what we really want out of life, is to live.

I want to live.

I want to actually be alive.

I want to live a life that feels alive.

I want to be the kind of alive that actually sparks the desire to live real and alive lives in everyone else I come into contact with.  

So religion, I'm calling your bluff.  I'm not interested in simply surviving until the next, better existence comes along.  

...but I'm also not writing you off.  What you have become is not who you once were.  The walls you have built up, the moats you have dug deep, the blood on your hands and on your souls, and the lives that you hold locked deeply in your many and varied dungeons, are not who you once meant to be.  What you started out as was a way of making sense in the chaos.  Who you meant to be was a torch through the dark and cold spaces.  What you meant to establish was a place of refuge, of rest through the fog and storms.  

What you settled for was made up answers when you were at a loss for real ones.  What you settled for was insulation from this world rather than affecting it.  What you settled for was protecting your territories and safely shoring up your foundations rather than being a welcoming, embracing haven.  What you settled for was spilling the blood of those who opposed you rather than serving and feeding and caring and loving them.

...but that is not who you meant to be.  I do not even believe that that is who you really want to be.  I just don't know that you now know how to be anything else.

...but I want to live.  Because of this, I choose to follow the One who was raised above every religion, even the religions that claim to bare His name.  I will follow the One who claimed to know what life is really all about, the One who showed us all a new way to be fully alive, the One who proved that He was worth following when He stood up and walked out of His own grave on Easter morning.  No one else can claim this.  No one else has shown through many and convincing proofs that the only way to live, is to not be afraid of death.

So I will follow Him...stumbling, failing, sometimes rebelling, with all of my doubts, with all of my fears, with all of the baggage that you have laid on my back, the heavy burdens that I have so much difficulty shedding; I will follow Him...and I will learn to live.

I will also continue to engage with you in your many and varied forms.  I will look for that which you once meant to be.  I will dig for it, I will search for it, and when I find it I will hold it high in your midst and say, "See here!  This is what you were meant to be!  This is who you once sought to be!"  And I will show you that if one such as myself can be fully alive following after the One who is the giver of all life, then there is still much hope for you.

Because I don't want to be fully alive all on my own; I want to live in a fully alive world.  I am convinced this has already begun.

Wait, Who Are You Again?

I was reading in Exodus this morning, the passage about Moses and the burning bush.  Pretty interesting stuff.  Pretty fun story.  Also pretty much completely unbelievable.

Imagine with me the first Hebrews that Moses comes upon when he finally makes the journey back to Egypt.  He tells them his story, he tells them that God visited him in a bush that was on fire yet didn't burn up, he tells them that God has heard their cries and he has come to be their deliverer, and I imagine their response went something like this, "Wait, who are you again?"

The unbelievable part would not have been that God visited a man, history is full of stories of gods visiting mankind.  The unbelievable part would not have been this miraculous bush that was on fire but did not burn up, history is full of stories of all kinds of miraculous happenings.  The unbelievable part would not have been that God was sending a hero, a deliverer, history is full of stories of the gods choosing many different heros to do their bidding.

The unbelievable part would have been Moses.

Anyone who has grown up in church hears this story and just takes it for what it is.  We've been indoctrinated with the "facts" of this story in children's bible story books, flannel graph boards, Sunday school lessons and so on for so long that it's just a piece of bible history to get us to the really important stuff, the New Testament.

But let's think about a couple of points.

The Hebrews were not an established nation at this point.  They were a really large family.  They had moved to Egypt to escape a famine some 480 years prior, and had just never left.  For many of those years they had simply merged with Egyptian culture, it was only somewhat recently that the Pharaoh had begun to notice that they were multiplying like rabbits and started to grow concerned that they may take over, so he did the naturally expected thing, and enslaved them all.  When that didn't work, when that didn't slow down their procreation, he took the next logical step and started killing all of the male babies.  Which is where Moses' story first picks up.

He was hidden by his mother in a basket of reeds, another fantastic story, and was found by Pharaoh's wife.  She could not bare to end his infant life, and so adopted him as their own son, effectively making Moses a Hebrew born into slavery, adopted into Egyptian royalty.  We get from the rest of the story that he was given power and ruling authority, so we have no reason to imagine that he was anything less than a fully royal Egyptian prince.

Now we also read that Moses was nursed by his own natural mother until he was of the age to be weaned.  This is another great part of the story where we are introduced to his older sister Miriam.  Being nursed to a certain age by his Hebrew mother, I think it's completely ok to assume that she did her best to teach him of his family heritage, including their origin story beginning with their father Abraham and the God who claimed He would make his offspring, their people, into a great nation.

At this point, however, I think it would be wrong to assume that she was his greatest influence.  

Continuing on in the story we see that Moses grew into his forties in Pharaoh's household.  He grew to a position of authority and privilege.  He was every bit a son of the Pharaoh, a prince in Egypt.  

You don't maintain that position by siding with the slaves.  
You don't maintain that position by worshiping the slave God.  
You do maintain that position simply by being every bit an Egyptian.

Then the story shifts a bit.  Moses witnesses an injustice towards a Hebrew, and something is sparked in him.  He kills one of the Egyptian guards, one of his guards, and eventually this leads to him fleeing Egypt.  Where does he flee to?  To the wilderness, to the Midians where he marries the high priest of Midian's daughter.

The Midians were related to the Hebrews (same dad, different mom) but were believed to be worshipers of the Baals, who were a number of different pagan gods.

The story tells us that Moses lived in the wilderness for another forty years tending his father in law's flocks of sheep and goats.  By the time we get to the burning bush, Moses is in his eighties, and by his own admission he is old and weak and stutters in his speech and has difficulty communicating his thoughts.  

But you say, he must have had a strong faith right?  I mean all that time in the wilderness to reflect on his peoples plight, all that time to think of the injustice perpetrated by his adopted father, all that time to think of why he was completely justified in taking the life of that Egyptian guard who was beating his Hebrew brother, all that time to remember the stories told him by his real mom...

When we read of Moses' reaction when he sees the bush burning, he first bows low because he recognizes that he is in the presence of a deity, but then when he is told to return to Egypt again to free the Hebrews from Egyptian slavery, in essence he replies, "Wait, who are you again?"

I know You just said that You are the God of my fathers...but which one?

What's Your name again?

This is where the story becomes completely unbelievable.

God has just chosen the single most incompetent human being in existence to free His people and establish them as their own unique nation, completing the promise He made to Abraham almost 500 years earlier...

Not only is this guy in his eighties, old, tired, weak; but he can't even get a sentence out without stuttering all over the place; he's spent forty years in the desert with sheep and goats and completely removed from civilization; he doesn't recognize which god he's speaking to; and to top it all off, he doesn't want the job!  He doesn't care if the Hebrews are enslaved.  He's terrified to go back because he knows there is a strong likelihood that he will be imprisoned or even worse, killed!  

This is why this story is completely unbelievable, Moses is no hero.

...but this story is not about who Moses is, this story is very much about who God is and who He intends for Moses to become.

Two things then that are very basic takeaways for me in this story, obviously there are untold lessons that can be gleaned, but at the base there are two things I walk away with.

God can do anything He wants to with whomever He desires.  Me.  You.  Screwed up, chewed up, spit out, dead faith, don't know up from down, right from wrong, pagan, burned out, exhausted, unsure, scared, weak, incompetent, heretic, guilty, sinner...none of these labels concern God in the least when He is ready to act.

Second, how many Moses' are out there right now?  How many mouthpieces of the God of the universe are out there right now that I would ask, "Wait, who are you again?"  

Might there be a Moses living under a bridge?
Might there be a Moses who has a different belief system than me?
Might there be a Moses who is of diminished physical or mental capability?
Might there be a Moses from a different religious structure?
Might there be a Moses who doesn't know they are a Moses?
Might there be a Moses from a different political affiliation?
Might there be a Moses who rubs me the wrong way?
Might there be a Moses in my own home, one of my own children, or a close friend, or a co-worker, or an acquaintance?

I want to become the kind of person who believes that God can do anything He wants to with whomever He desires...even me...even you.

I want to become the kind of person who can recognize the words of the great I AM no matter the mouthpiece.

I want to become the kind of person who can respond to the whisper of the Almighty, "Wait...I know that voice."

Prodigal

I know who I am.
You may know me too.
I am of a royal blood line.
I am a prince, a child of power, the son of the King.
And I am a prodigal.

I have been loved,
I have known love,
I have lived in the very presence of love incarnate.
Yet, I am a prodigal.

I know my Father,
I speak of Him often,
yet, I have held Him at arm's length.
I am a prodigal.

He has given me everything;
I have only wanted more.
He has blessed me beyond measure;
still, I have wanted more.
He has loved me in spite of the pain I have caused;
I continue to want only more.
I am a prodigal.

I am impatient.
I am unsatisfied.
I am restless.
I am angry.
I am a prodigal.

I know I am loved;
I do not live as if this is true.
I know I am cared for;
I do not live as if this is true.
I know I am a son of the King of kings;
I do not live as if this is true.
I am a prodigal.

I am in debt to debtors.
I am lonely in the crowd.
I am unhealthy in a world of fitness.
My mind is cloudy,
my judgement weak.
I am filthy and clothed in rags.
I am a prodigal.

I know that my Father longs for my return.
I know that He would greet me with open arms.
I know that He would sprint down the drive to meet me at the road.
I am afraid to return.
I am a prodigal.

I am not afraid of my Father,
I am ashamed to look in His eyes.
I do not worry that He may reject me,
His embrace would painfully crush my hardened heart.
I have no concern that He may no longer love me,
hatred for myself leaves only a desire for pain, not mercy.
I am a prodigal.

I am filled with pride, 
a false sense of humbleness.
I will crawl home,
though it is not required.
I will bloody my knees,
though He will heal them with a touch.
It is all I can muster.
It will be enough.
He will lift me up.
He will heal my soul,
so that I may no longer be prodigal.