I've been working through The Imitation of Christ by Thomas A'Kempis. Parts of it are really wonderful. Whole sections of it read like they came straight from the Psalms in a style not unlike e.e cummings psalm rewrites that sound better than the originals. Some of it sounds like it's straight from Proverbs. Good stuff.  He also has some very harsh words to say to those obsessed with religious academia and high theological arguments. Those are some of the best parts! I'll be posting a sampling of that soon.



BUT, (and "That's a pretty big but(t)" says the little fish in Finding Nemo), A'Kempis also gets on my nerves. The book is chock-full of stuff like this:

Whoso, therefore, withdraweth himself from his acquaintance and friends, God will draw near unto him with his holy angels. It is better for a man to live privately, and to take care of himself, than to neglect his soul, though he could work wonders in the world. It is commendable in a religious person seldom to go abroad, to be unwilling to see or be seen.

Let not thy peace depend on the tongues of men; for whether they speak well or ill, thou are not therefore another man. Where are true peace and true glory? Are they not in [Christ]? And he that desireth not to please men, nor feareth to displease them, shall enjoy much peace. For inordinate love and vain fear ariseth all disquiet of heart and distraction of mind.

It is better often, and safer, that a man should not have many consolations in this life, especially such as are according to the flesh...When a man hath perfect contrition, then is the whole world grievous and bitter unto him.

Stop the tape! That's easy for you to say. Let's tear ourself away from the world and meditate on the Lord, rejoicing in quite communion with him. That's all great, but I think this all needs to be taken with a grain of salt. Why? How dare I question the wisdom of this highly-spiritual church father?

• He was never married, never had to learn to communicate with a wife.
• He never had to raise any children.
• He never had to take care of toddlers. (Yes, this deserves it's own bullet point.)
• Living in the monastery, he never had money so he never wrestled with managing finances.
• He had lots of work to do, but never a job with a boss, staff meetings, finite sick leave, and a house full of dependents hanging on every penny bought home. Just 50+ years of chores.
  

I think the little bio on the back of the book puts it plainly:

Thomas A'Kempis (c. 1380-1471), a Dutch priest, quietly lived to more than ninety in exercises of devotion, writing and copying, reading, preaching, and exhorting others.

Hey man, whatever floats your boat. Sounds nice actually, but it's not what God has called me too. Therefore, I won't get upset about these kinds of idealistic exhortations any more. I won't feel like a failure! Right...

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From Blue Like Jazz (p.140)

Here's a tip I've never used: I understand you can learn a great deal about girldom by reading Pride and Prejudice, and I won a copy, but I have never read it. I tried. It was given to me by a girl with a little note inside that read: What is in this book is the heart of a woman. I am sure the heart of a woman is pure and lovely, but the first chapter of said heart is hopelessly boring. Nobody dies at all. I keep the book on my shelf because girls come into my room, sit on my couch, and eye the books on the adjacent shelf. You have a copy of Pride and Prejudice, the exclaim in a gentle sigh and smile. Yes, I say. Yes, I do.

Interestingly enough, I bring this up because my wife hates Jane Austen. She finds the lifestyle of the typical characters to be quite dull. I myself have yet to read any of her works, though I saw the recent Pride and Prejudice starring Keira Knightley in it. My guess is that it's difficult to relate to noble culture, my wife and I both growing up blue-collar. My friend Mark on the other hand, is quite a fan of Austen and actually met his wife through that mutual appreciation! What a striking contrast to our author in this case.

From Blue Like Jazz:


What is this a description of? Auto-pilot. The bane of my existence, and a special gift to our gender. Powerful, it enables us to function without thinking. To handle repetition that would otherwise drive us insane. To continue to function in the midst of noise and chaos. We really can be robots! It's not bad. It's a glorious work of the creator! But it's another thing the deceiver aims to twist.



Nothing hurts my marriage more than this very thing. I think falling into auto-pilot in relation to our wives is a great snare for men. I believe Donald Miller also successfully points out that it's a trap in our relation to God. The gender of men in particular is really good at being religious. Once we get our auto-pilot setup, we can go on for years while putting all of our creative energy into something else. Woman are not as successful at just being religious. It forces them to continue to strive for a more intimate relationship with Jesus, and that is a very good thing.

Intellectual Christianity can be rich in truth, but it's easier for men to set it on auto-pilot. Mystical Christianity doesn't play so well with robots. It keeps you on your toes.

Allow me to exhort myself:

Men, let's shed the robot and engage God and our wives with all our mind, soul and strength!

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I was typing notes down from a stack of books yesterday and realized how much time theologians spend quoting the people that came before them. Sometimes they have long stretches of their own original ideas, but most of the time is spent quoting someone else and then discussing it. That's exactly what I'm doing on this blog. Maybe I'm in good company. Or maybe we ALL aren't very original!

Anyway, I found it kind of funny.

In "Wild at Heart", I'm amazed at how often author John Eldridge quotes Philip Yancey.

From what I've read of Philip Yancey, he likes to quote C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton.

Lewis and Chesterton in turn quote Augustine a lot.

Now we're starting to get into some more meaty content. I feel like I'm traveling down a funnel...

Augustine quotes, hmmm, lets see, the New Testament quite a bit.

And in the New Testament, we have some really good fresh material from Jesus and Paul, but even they are quoting stuff all the time! From where? Well, the Old Testament! (Jude also quotes the Apocrypha a bit too. Apparently he didn't get the memo.)

And now in the Old Testament, we've got the raw WORD OF GOD, in the law and the prophets. Along with some inspired hymns, poetry, wise sayings, and a lot of straight history.

I think this is why sometimes, we just need to skip all the middle men and read BIBLE.

From Reaching for the Invisible God:

Here, Yancy quotes Paul Tournier. Who, from what I can gather was a Swiss physician turned Christian psychotherapist. He lived mostly during the first half of the last century.

The most wonderful thing in this world is not the good that we accomplish, but the fact that good can come out of the evil that we do. I have been struck, for example, by the numbers of people who have been brought back to God under the influence of a person to whom they have had some imperfect attachment... Our vocation is, I believe, to build good out of evil. For if we try to build good out of good, we are in danger of running out of raw material.

I see this now goes to reinforce one of the major points he established earlier in the book:

The world is good.
The world is fallen.
The world can be redeemed.

Yancy calls this the story of the universe. I can't help but think I've seen this same idea in other places, but worded differently.

I sure have felt like this the past few days...

Donald Miller in Blue Like Jazz quotes a poem by C.S. Lewis:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;
I talk of love - a scholor's parrot may talk Greek -
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

And then comments:

I sat there above the city wondering if I was like the parrot in Lewis's poem, swinging in my cage, reciting Homer, all the while having no idea what I was saying. I talk about love, forgiveness, social justice; I rage against American materialism in the name of altruism, but have I even controlled my own heart? The overwhelming majority of time I spend thinking about myself, pleasing myself, reassuring myself, and when I am done there is nothing to spare for the needy. Six billion people live in this world, and I can only muster thoughts for one. Me.

From Reaching for the Invisible God:

...People vary in beauty, family background, athletic skill, intelligence, health, and wealth, and anyone who expects perfect fairness in this world will end up bitterly disappointed. Likewise, a Christian who expects God to solve all family problems, heal all diseases, and thwart baldness, graying, wrinkling, presbyopia, osteoporosis, senility, and the other effects of aging is pursuing childish magic, not mature religion.

The prosperity gospel in it's brazen and loud form does not hold much temptation to me. I've always been taught (and thought independently) that it was unreasonable. But I've often fallen for being discontent about the world not being fair. Wishing I was smarter, wishing I had more money, and so on. It's frustrating that following Christ doesn't get you that stuff. But following Christ has made me more content with what I DO have. More importantly, it has made me stop and realize the beauty of what is around me instead of wallowing in a despair of unreachable goals and thinking about all the beauty that was NOT around me. Oh well!

So I've learned to be happy with my career as a developer/coder/database monkey. I no longer have to bang my head against the wall to get into the Eastman School of Music or find a paying guitar job. I'm settled with music being a hobby. In the past year he broke me of my quest to find a "real house" for my family. Our fixed-up trailer will do just fine. I don't think I made a real hard attempt to be content with these things. I doubt that would have produced any real change. I think he worked in my heart produce peace. I'll try my best with the hand I've been dealt.

P.S. I just hope the other hand has a dang good cup of coffee in it. Doh!

From Reaching for the Invisible God:

...what finally brought me to God: not the Bible or Christian literature or anyone's sermons. I turned to God primarily because of my discovery of goodness and grace in the world: through nature, through classical music, through romantic love. Enjoying the gifts, I began to seek the giver; full of gratitude, I needed Someone to thank...God had been there all the while, waiting to be noticed. Though I still had no proof, only clues, the clues led me to exercise faith. (p. 118)

I really loved this comment because I feel that it sheds insight into how the holy spirit actually works in our hearts and minds. I've always wondered at how God does it. How does he take our fallen selfish thoughts and turn them into humility? How exactly does he change us from being jerk to being deeply aware of Jesus' sacrifice and to generating love for the people around us? The usual example we know of is when tragedy hits someones life. They almost die or they lose their family in some horrible accident and it really slaps them around. But that kind of thing only happens to some people. It didn't happen to me or even most of the people I know. So how did we all come to faith? Being raised by Christian parents? You can have that and still turn out bad. Everyone knows our efforts come to nil without the work of the spirit.

I like this because it's another way that he works in our hearts to draw us to himself. I couldn't put my finger on it before, but Yancy's description is one I can relate to a lot.

From Reaching for the Invisible God:

Throughout church history, Christian leaders have shown an impulse to pin everything down, to reduce behavior and doctrine to absolutes that could be answered on a true-false test. Significantly, I do not find this tendency in the Bible. Far from it, I find instead the mystery and uncertainty that characterize any relationship,l especially a relationship between a perfect God and fallible human beings. (p. 92)

He goes on to quote G.K. Chesterton:

"Christianity got over the difficulty of combining furious opposites, by keeping them both, and keeping them both furious." Most heresies come from espousing one opposite at the expense of the other.

If there is anything I've learned since exploring the many branches of Christianity recently, it is the point expressed above. But what do you do with it? Well, let's put some numbers on it:

1. Some fundamentalists don't like this because it means that God can't be adequately explained. They like to play up the importance of absolute truth (which IS important of course), but they aren't sure what to do with mystery. So it either gets glossed over, or thrown out as being too (liberal, mystical, fill-in-the-blank).

2. Some Calvinists like to use this kind of material to draw attention to God's sovereignty (which is great), but then do a u-turn by taking it a step further and trying to precisely define just how sovereign and mysterious and omnipotent and can't-be-contained he is. They've got the Trinity measured down to a micrometer. Before you know it, you're back to a staggering stack of true and false statements. Oops.

3. Some Charismatics will also appeal to the same idea, often saying, "You can't put God in a box." Well, of course you can't. Yeah, that right! But wait. If I don't speak in tongues then I can't possibly have the holy spirit? If I'm sick and didn't get healed, it MUST be because I didn't have enough faith? And, prophecy is cool and all, but I'm not so sure about the stuff that one guy was saying yesterday. What, you mean I'm spiritually dead because I'm even questioning it? Huh? Looks like God's still in the box.

I grew up in the company of #1, though the artist in me was never comfortable with it. For 5 years of college I hung with #3 (and still do sometimes). I have a drink with #2 sometimes and find it a secure and refreshing change. I'm just can't buy the whole thing though.

Actually, I just can't buy any of it.
So I guess I'll take all of it. Woo hoo!

From Reaching for the Invisible God:

Some psychologists practice a school of behavior therapy that encourages the client to "act as if" a certain state is true, no matter how unreasonable it seems....If you want to preserve your marriage but are not sure you really love your wife, start acting as if you love her: surprise her, show affection, give gifts, be attentive.  You may find that feelings of love materialize as you act out the behavior. If you want to forgive your father but find yourself unable, act as if he is forgiven. Say the words, "I forgive you" or "I love you," even though you are not entirely convinced you mean them. Often the change in behavior in the one party brings about a remarkable change in the other. Something similar works in my relationship with God. I wish all obedience sprang from an instinctive desire to please God - alas, it does not...I must rely on this technique... (p. 88)

I find this to be one of the fundamental principles of mental gymnastics. One day I'll write and explain why mental gymnastics are NOT a bad things.  I think they get far too much of a bad rap in our circles. As if it were our own striving attempting to make us holy.  Of course we should just let go and let god. If sanctification is based 100% on the work of Christ in our heart, then of course it is futile! If it is based in some part on our own works then what is "trying to be nice" or "trying to do the right thing"?  Isn't this what we do every day in our struggle with sin and our journey through life? Of course it is. Anyway, dealing with this fully would take quite a while and I don't know if I'm prepared to do that. In fact, I am sure that I'm not.

Back to the topic at hand. What do you do when you actually WANT to do something very badly, but you REALLY don't feel like it at all. So you treat your wife with love because you love her. But what if you're relationship has broken down (for whatever reason) and at this particular moment, you can't stand her anymore. Well, instead of ignoring her, punishing her with critical comments, or whatever else people do to spite one another, what if you flip it on it's head and choose to actively treat her like you're madly enough. Just pretend for a while, OK? And you know what?  The funniest thing happens. This is very well documented. You're feelings will change and you're love for her will grow again! Amazing really.  This really works, but it isn't for quitters. Yancy says that the other person's feelings will change too. I really don't think you should say that. They may never really change as much as you want them too. As soon as you add that in the mix, even in the back of your mind, than it will undoubtedly make itself some kind of CONDITION for you to continue. I think the part about the other person probably changing needs to be thrown out completely.

This exact same thing could be said about husbands, friends, family, co-workers, etc. I think it's a special property of human relations. Now, all of this operates independently or IN TANDEM with the holy spirit. Maybe it never operates without the hold spirit. But that work is invisible, so who can say for sure? It might be simply a property of human psychology. It may be God working in our hearts behind the scenes. Maybe it is God working in our hearts behind the scenes THROUGH human psychology. After all, he did make us, right?

Anyway, you can love and then act out in love, or just start with the actions and pick the love back up later. Just jump in.

From Reaching for the Invisible God:

I learn about faith by looking back at Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, for God proceeded in a most puzzling manner with all three. After God had promised to bring about a people as numerous as the stars in the sky, what followed more resembled a case study in family infertility. Abraham and Sarah entered their nineties before they saw their first child; that son married a barren woman; the grandson Jacob had to wait fourteen years for the wife of his dreams, only to discover her barren as well. This tortuous path toward populating a great nation shows that God operates on a different timetable than impatient human beings expect. Each of those Old Testament characters lived and died in faith, vowing to the end that God had indeed kept his promises. (p. 75)

I think it's fascinating that the patriarch's faith is presented as being so loosely tied to tangible results in their lifetime. I wonder if they were like us now: Wanting God to take care of their problems in a relatively short amount of time. (A couple of weeks sounds good.) Then, lying on their bed in their old age, they rally themselves to proclaim their faith, even thought they are about to die without seeing any of the promises come true. OR did they live their day-to-day life with this kind of conviction, not actually expecting God to deliver for a few hundred years or so. When you read about famous characters in an epic, it's easy to imagine the latter, more mythical faith. However, remembering that Jacob was a guy just like me, I suspect it may have looked more like the former.

I would also like to relate this to eschatology for a moment. The pre-trib, pre-millennial rapture is a future that seems to me to appeal to the impatient Christian. We just hang on for a few more years and then God comes down and whacks everything into shape in a very short amount of time. Only 7 years or so. The post-millennial view sees the power of God working in the hearts of men and growing the church to cover the whole earth over several thousand MORE years from now. This is the slow, patient salvation of our world. When I open the bible, I see God working slowly.