Quotes I Love Part One

I think this says it all.

“WE CAN SAY THAT the story of the Resurrection means simply that the teachings of Jesus are immortal like the plays of Shakespeare or the music of Beethoven and that their wisdom and truth will live on forever. Or we can say that the Resurrection means that the spirit of Jesus is undying, that he himself lives on among us, the way that Socrates does, for instance, in the good that he left behind him, in the lives of all who follow his great example. Or we can say that the language in which the Gospels describe the Resurrection of Jesus is the language of poetry and that, as such, it is not to be taken literally but as pointing to a truth more profound than the literal.

Very often, I think, this is the way that the Bible is written, and I would point to some of the stories about the birth of Jesus, for instance, as examples; but in the case of the Resurrection, this simply does not apply because there really is no story about the Resurrection in the New Testament. Except in the most fragmentary way, it is not described at all. There is no poetry about it. Instead, it is simply proclaimed as a fact. Christ is risen! In fact, the very existence of the New Testament itself proclaims it. Unless something very real indeed took place on that strange, confused morning, there would be no New Testament, no Church, no Christianity.

Yet we try to reduce it to poetry anyway: the coming of spring with the return of life to the dead earth, the rebirth of hope in the despairing soul. We try to suggest that these are the miracles that the Resurrection is all about, but they are not. In their way they are all miracles, but they are not this miracle, this central one to which the whole Christian faith points.

Unlike the chief priests and the Pharisees, who tried with soldiers and a great stone to make themselves as secure as they could against the terrible possibility of Christ’s really rising again from the dead, we are considerably more subtle. We tend in our age to say, ‘Of course, it was bound to happen. Nothing could stop it.’ But when we are pressed to say what it was that actually did happen, what we are apt to come out with is something pretty meager: this ‘miracle’ of truth that never dies, the ‘miracle’ of a life so beautiful that two thousand years have left the memory of it undimmed, the ‘miracle’ of doubt turning into faith, fear into hope. If I believed that this or something like this was all that the Resurrection meant, then I would turn in my certificate of ordination and take up some other profession. Or at least I hope that I would have the courage to” (Frederick Buechner).

-Originally published in The Alphabet of Grace

A Night in Franklin

I spent my Saturday night in Franklin. I visited my usual haunts and got my Main Street fix for the week.

It started off with a friend chicken tenders basket, which would have been better if I had gone with two pieces and not three. Don’t get me wrong. The food was stellar, but there was too much of it. I suppose yet again my eyes were bigger than my stomach. It was sad to see all those tasty fries go to waste. I almost ate the rest out of pity.

I then headed over to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church for some peace and quiet. Very rarely am I ever in a place of silence that it seems strange not to at least hear some form of white noise.  I’ve decided that the last thing society wants is for you to be in a place of silence where you can actually think about your life. They want you constantly bombarded by ads and music and noise 24/7 until you comply with their ideas of what to buy, wear, eat. etc., etc., etc. But I digress.

I had my mug o’ hot chocolate at the Frothy Monkey. Yes, it was both hot and frothy. I got in a little people watching while I sipped my frothy concoction and pretended to be hipper than I really was. It was great fun.

If I could live in Franklin, I’d love it. Maybe I could do some extended house-sitting there someday.

In the mean time, I plan on returning there soon, although I may have to shake things up by varying my routine a bit. Puckett’s, anyone?

Celebrating the Return of the Wifis and Interwebs

I have interwebs again at the crib. Sure, it may be the slowest connection in the western hemisphere, but I am connected. And that is not a complaint. That is an observation based on how long it took to upload The X-Files on Netflix.

I am celebrating with a good quote from C.S. Lewis on what it means to become yourself by becoming more like Jesus:

“The more we get what we now call ‘ourselves’ out of the way and let Him take us over, the more truly ourselves we become. There is so much of Him that millions and millions of ‘little Christs’, all different, will still be too few to express Him fully.

He made them all. He invented— as an author invents characters in a novel—all the different men that you and I were intended to be. In that sense our real selves are all waiting for us in Him. It is no good trying to ‘be myself’ without Him.

The more I resist Him and try to live on my own, the more I become dominated by my own heredity and upbringing and surroundings and natural desires. In fact what I so proudly call ‘Myself’ becomes merely the meeting place for trains of events which I never started and which I cannot stop.

What I call ‘My wishes’ become merely the desires thrown up by my physical organism or pumped into me by other men’s thoughts or even suggested to me by devils. Eggs and alcohol and a good night’s sleep will be the real origins of what I flatter myself by regarding as my own highly personal and discriminating decision to make love to the girl opposite to me in the railway carriage. Propaganda will be the real origin of what I regard as my own personal political ideas.

I am not, in my natural state, nearly so much of a person as I like to believe: most of what I call ‘me’ can be very easily explained. It is when I turn to Christ, when I give myself up to His Personality, that I first begin to have a real personality of my own.”

From Mere Christianity
Compiled in A Year with C.S. Lewis

More of the Wifi-lessness

I had a thought today that kinda blew my mind. Actually, it 100% blew my mind.

The more you and I become like Jesus, the more we each become our truest selves. You looking like Jesus will look different than me looking like Jesus, comprende?

Also, we can’t achieve Christlikeness by ourselves. It’s only in community that we bring out Jesus in each other. 

Mind. Even. More. Blown.

And no, I still have no wifi at the domicile.

Lessons from Being Wifi-less

So I still have no interwebs at the homestead on my laptop. It’s frustrating and annoying. I tinkered with all the tech again but to no avail. So I thought I’d take the time that I’d normally waste on Facebook to share a few lessons I’ve learned from the experience of being wifi-less.

1) IT is not my spiritual gift. That’s just not how I’m wired (insert rim shot here).

2) Life still does manage to go on. People lived without wifi or even the internet for many years. I even grew up without it, and look how I turned out. Ok, nevermind.

3) The Bible functions quite well without wifi. As much as I love the youversion Bible app on my swanky if outdated iPhone 5, nothing beats turning actual pages and catching a whiff of old ink on old paper.

So the moral of the story is that I’ll survive.And maybe I’ll be just a bit nicer to the IT people in my life and not tap on the glass when they’re working, i.e. playing World of Warcraft. And no more tech geek wisecracks either. 

The Worst 

“Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing” (Frederick Buechner).

I love that. 

When you have that moment of panic in the morning before your alarm is set to go off, when you toss and turn at night for thinking about all the stupid things you said and did that you wish you could take back, that’s not the end.

The moment you got fired, the moment your marriage ended, the moment you lost a friend, is not the last thing.

Because of the resurrection, God is working all things together (even the worst things) for good– even the best– for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.

That’s the last thing– the good that comes out of the worst, the victory that emerges from your defeat, the restoration of all you’ve lost over your life.

That is my kind of good news, especially on a dreary and rainy Tuesday night.

The Interwebs

Technology is wonderful. It makes life so much easier. I just love me some technology . . . until it stops working. Then I want to say some very non-Baptist words.

My wi-fi isn’t working and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to make it do right. I’ve tried all the magic words I know, including “pretty please,” and every possible combination of plugging those dratted cables in. I have come to face the reality that I may not be tech-illiterate, but I am close.

Funny. I don’t remember praying for patience this morning but got mine tested anyway. Still, I have to remind myself that I woke up this morning, I could get out of bed, I had a roof over my head and clothes to wear and food to eat . . . I have everything I need.

God sometimes allows these little wi-fi malfunctions to remind me that there is life outside the internet. In fact, Jesus came to give me the abundant life that isn’t found on a website but in a holy book.

And yet I still somehow manage to complain.

Blog #1,721

This will probably seem random, as I myself am feeling random and scattered in my thoughts. This most likely won’t be my most widely read blog ever, but that’s okay. Sometimes it helps to let those thoughts out so that the rest of your mind can settle.

It was a good day, mostly due to the fantastic weather here in Nashville and the most excellent caramel flan latte I had just over two hours ago.

I’ve learned that you do better when you stop trying to figure out how the rest of your life will play out and simply enjoy the moments as they come. It’s a lot less stressful that way.

I’m not saying don’t plan. I am saying that most of life is what happens when something other than what you had planned happens.

I think Oswald Chambers said that faith means not knowing every step of the road ahead of you but trusting the One who does. Or something to that effect. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer.

Music of the Night

I had Three Dog Night playing in the car today and was immediately transported back to my days as part of the puppet ministry under Darlene Buckner at Ridgeway Baptist Church.

I’n fuzzy on the time frame, but I think it was either junior high or high school. I remember Mrs. Buckner had quite the collection of old records (before those became hip and trendy again). 

Music does that for me. A certain song at the right moment can trigger long buried memories like nothing else. I can recall instantly what I was thinking and feeling when I first heard the song.

Maybe that’s why music is such a part of faith. Music reminds us in a way that nothing else can about God’s faithfulness and fidelity to us. It reinforces God’s promises to us and helps us recall past victories in the midst of current battles.

Both hymns and modern worship music can do that. I’m all for traditional AND contemporary IF both stay scriptural and spirit-filled. On a side note, if you truly worship God in spirit and in truth, it won’t matter if it’s a piano and an organ, a 100-piece orchestra and full choir, or a rock band with amps turned up to 11. It will be true worship.

So, I like music because I’m forgetful and it helps remind me why I’m alive and what I’n living for. Plus, it has such a groovy beat. 

You Have No Idea

If you’re like me, you will sometimes smile and even wave and say hello to a total stranger. I suppose that it’s a a Southern thing, or maybe it’s just a Me thing. Sometimes the person smiles back. Sometimes they look at me like I’m from Mars.

But you never know that maybe someone needed your smile. Perhaps that person felt invisible and unwanted and you just validated their whole existence.

It could be that the person you waved at was having a really crappy day where everyone was rude to them and you just made their day.

You have no idea of the power of a small gesture like saying hello to someone. You’re saying in essence, “I see you. I am a witness to your life in all its beauty and ugliness, joy and pain. You will not go unnoticed, because I have noticed you. You matter to me.”

I heard someone say that some people can never believe in God’s love for them until they see your love for them not just spoken but lived out in flesh and blood reality. They will never believe that they are lovable until someone proves them wrong by loving them.

I’m not suggesting that you start intimate conversation with total strangers or walk up to people and declare your undying love for them. That would probably creep them out.

Just treat them like you want to be treated. A smile and a nod and a polite greeting is all it takes to change the world for one person. And when you change that one person’s world, you change the world.