I am my own worst legalist
I am my own worst legalist.
The other day my pastor at Coast Vineyard described legalists as "anyone who will steal grace from you."
I've always thought of legalists as people who impose rules and regulations, add stress and judgment to your life. I never thought of what they take away: grace.
That all sounded good to me. My own life has been transformed by the creative and re-creative power of the Holy Spirit, so the whole premise resonated with me. In reading about the festival I was especially moved by their acknowledgment that "the creative and open nature of our faith is perhaps our greatest asset for re-building and strengthening our relationships with each other, with our enemies, with our stories, our texts, and the earth."
Still sounded good to me.
My friend, Colin, who attended the festival, agreed that "the vibe of many people enjoying simply being with each other and sharing their joys, sorrows, and struggles was undeniable." (Check out more of his thoughts here)
To me, that sounds a lot like grace.
Which is why I was appalled a few weeks later when I Googled the festival and the top hits came back as articles denouncing this gathering of "neo-Gnostic fools who've unbuckled themselves from the Word of God and have embarked upon their Wild Goose Chase of subjective experience." (Southern Baptist blogger Ken Silva of Apprising Ministries quoted in an article in The Christian Century).
Now, I'm no expert on theology and I shy away at political debates, and I definitely don't want to get into a discussion about the Emergent church or anything like that, but the outcry of negativity sounded like legalism to me. A grace heist.
As my blood boiled, I was reminded of what my pastor said about legalists, "Expect opposition." That was just the fuel I needed to villanize those awful, closed-minded Christians.
And just as I was about to condemn these condemners under the rouse of tolerance and acceptance and standing up for my creative, grace-seeking brothers and sisters, it dawned on me that I had become my own worst grace-stealing legalist.
The Bible calls us not to division but to unity. My home group Bible study just finished going through the book of Ephesians and the theme of unity came up so many times that by the end we were parroting "unity" as the catchall answer like young VBSers shouting out "Jesus!" in response to any question.
Paul's exhortation to "live a life worthy of the calling you have received," applies just as much to me as the Wild Goose critics. I, too, am called to "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all." (Ephesians 4:1-6)
It seems we all need a good dose of the Wild Goose.
Un Regalo Para Mi
A Guatemalan Fit of Unwarranted Compassion
Okay, okay, I've gotten some feedback that the term "Fits of Unwarranted Compassion" is confusing. Am I talking about my own compassion towards others or God's compassion toward me? And if I am talking about God's compassion, doesn't the word "fit" seem a bit too sporadic and haphazard to describe something as constant and pervasive as God's compassion? Well, the answer to all of those questions is yes. Yes, these Fits of Unwarranted Compassion describe unexplainable feelings of compassion I've felt for other people. Yes, they describe God's compassion towards me. And, yes, the term "fit" is too careless a word to attribute to God's compassion.
The fits describe my own view of God's compassion, at first. In the midst of anger and despair I started experiencing this beauty and this meaning and this purpose and this joy that I couldn't explain and felt I didn't deserve. I eventually came to call them (because I love to title my life) Fits of Unwarranted Compassion. For a long time I viewed them as unpredictable bursts, fireflies of meaning in my otherwise dark night of the soul--fits. I didn't see them as connected. I didn't even see them as God. The fits more accurately describe my own fitful recognitions of God's hand at work.
I guess the only way to explain it is to describe one to you. I'm going to tell you about a more recent event in my life, when I'd already identified these fits as God's love. But I'm hoping it will help explain what I mean by these fits and why I am so profoundly grateful for them.
This summer I had the chance to lead a mission trip to Guatemala with a group of college students from Point Loma Nazarene University. Guatemala has long been a place I have wanted to spend time in--either visiting or living there long term. For a million reasons, this trip was a gift from God. For now, I'll share just one of these reasons.
I work as a grant writer for a great organization where production and polished writing and attention to detail means not only personal satisfaction but critical funds for our programs.
As much as I love my job and the people I work to support, I needed a break. And God knew that.
He literally handed me this trip on a silver platter, forcing me to take the breather I so desperately needed but never would have taken had I not been offered this trip.
And breathe I did.
For five weeks I turned into an inarticulate, Spanish mumbling, VBS kid song humming fool.
And it was wonderful.
There was nothing to produce. Nothing to polish. My thoughts and ideas could remain unfinished, unexpressed, unanalyzed, and unclassified.
There was no grant to be proofed and no blog to be wrapped up nicely. No catchy punchlines or taglines. No persuasive arguments or marketing campaigns.
No to-do lists. No feelings of being behind or inadequate.
Five weeks of simply soaking it all in.
And it was glorious.
It may sound selfish, but I believe God knew exactly what he was doing. I came back from that trip with new vision and hope and excitement for my job, my relationships, and the ways God is living and moving and breathing in me even when I can't explain it.
One of my favorite quotes from Henri Nouwen (sheesh, three Henri mentions and this blog is only a week old!) says, "If we lack the strength to carry the burden of our own lives, we cannot accept the burden of our neighbors."
I believe that is true with all my heart. When I'm overwhelmed with work or questioning my relationships or obsessing about how good I look in a bathing suit, there's no way I can reach out to others. When I can't even get a handle on prioritizing a to-do list, how am I supposed to care for others and carry them?
It is experiences like these that I call Fits of Unwarranted Compassion. And all I can say is gracias.
T.S. Tuesdays
If you know me at all, you knew this had to be coming. Well, the alliteration part if not the T.S. Eliot part. T.S. Eliot is one of my favorite poets, so I decided to dedicate one day of the week to posting some of my favorite lines of his.
I am doing this because:
1. I think T.S. Eliot is the bomb dot com.
This has long been one of my favorites from his poem "East Coker" (Number 2 of 'Four Quartets'):
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.