I didn't get to blog as much this week at the conference I was at as I expected. My daily schedule was actually busier than I expected. This may have been the first time in the 6 of these conferences I've been to that I went to a session at every block, except one. From a work standpoint, it was good that I was here. From a personal, family standpoint, it was difficult, and I longed to be at home.

Since I didn't even have time to blog, I had similar problems reading the books I brought. I did finish To Own a Dragon but I need to re-read some sections. Near or at the end of the book, Miller discusses just how much God loves us, even if and when we feel like others have deserted us, like mothers and fathers and friends and other family members. And that amount love is constant and always. It is automatic. He went on to share a conversation between himself and John MacMurray about how we need to just as constantly accept God's love for us, believe bit by bit that He indeed loves us.

I saw a somewhat funny metaphor of this, and I probably only thought of it because I was so tired from travel, altitude, and too much learning. I was in the men's room and I noticed a man trying to flush the urinal. Despite that it said "Automatic flush" on the label, he kept poking and prodding and the pipe above the urinal. He eventually walked away frustrated, and then he hears the toilet flush, at which he shrugged his shoulders. This action made me wonder how often we think we need to poke or prod at God in our actions for the right thing to clean up our sins and shortcomings, not stepping back to realize that God's love and mery are automatic if we believe that we will receive them. Stepping back from our stuff (repenting) and allowing God to work (believing/trusting/faith) is exactly what He wants for us. He wants us to believe His love is automatic.

Now of course, that is more simple to say than to live out, but I want to be encouraged and confident in God's love, not my own thoughts and feelings. As I return home to again share the love of my family, I want God's love to be what is really shared.

I’m flying from Allentown to Chicago to Colorado Springs this evening (I wrote this Sunday night). Right now, I’m on the first leg of the journey, which left 50 minutes behind schedule. I was reading the first chapter of N.T. Wright’s book Simply Christian called “Putting the World to Rights.” In one word it’s about justice, but it’s more about the dream of justice that we all seem to have inside of us, specifically the voice or dream we have about justice. Just as little kids on the playground will exclaim “that’s not fair!” we all have the same exclamation about something in our lives, or something we see in the news or on TV, or even in our car when someone cuts us or another vehicle off.

Wright first tries to define the voice or dream of justice (p. 3):

It’s as though we can hear, not perhaps a voice itself, but the echo of a voice: a voice speaking with calm, healing authority, speaking about justice, about things being put to rights, about peace and hope and prosperity for all. The voice continues to echo in our imagination, our subconscious. We want to go back and listen to it again, but having woken up we can’t be back into the dream. Other people sometimes tell us it was just a fantasy, and we’re half-inclined to believe them, even thought that condemns us to cynicism.

Wrights shows some examples of how we all see injustices daily, some in large doses, others in small, and wonders why we can’t seem to fix them. No matter the amount of money or resources thrown at these injustices, the problem will come back to us, as we simply cannot stop breaking the rules of justice ourselves.

The line between justice and injustice, between things being right and things not being right, can’t be drawn between “us” and “them.” It runs right down through the middle of each of us. The ancient philosophers, not least Aristotle, saw this as a wrinkle in the system, a puzzle at several levels. We all know what we ought to do (give or stake a few details); but we all manage, at least some of the time, not to do it. (p. 6)

I’ve been wondering for some time now, as my awareness for social justice issues has grown over the last year or so, just why is it that I’ve become more aware of these issues, desire to see them fixed, but yet haven’t really done that much about it? The reality is much more complex than the fact that certain injustices affect my heart. I have made attempts at some lifestyle changes, be it behavioral or financial, which hopefully will contribute to justice. And as a father, I desire to echo the same voice that I hear to my daughter so that she, too, will follow.

But another example came into my mind, as I read Wright show clearly that the problem of injustice lies in me. Looking out of the window as I fly west, I can see the sun. In some ways, we are chasing the sunset. I literally saw the sun set twice tonight. The beauty of it was remarkable, and each different. But while I am caught up in the beauty of the sunsets, I must admit that we will never catch up to the sunset. There is something, or more specifically someone, that we would have to depend on for that to happen. The same is true in our dream for justice. We can get caught up in the beauty of what justice would or will look like when it is fulfilled, but simply based on the fact that we ourselves will fail at being just people, we will never catch up it the justice dream. Like an ancient, Jewish philosopher wrote, “it’s like a chase after the wind.” We need that Voice to not only reclaim our own justice which we fail out in ourselves, but also for the larger dream that connects people together.

In the context of discovering what it means to be “simply Christian,” this realization for me is a great start.

A* and I have been going to a small group since mid-January. It's been a good experience, and while we haven't built significant relationships with the people in this group yet, I think small groups in general are more biblically church-like than what exists on Sunday morning. This new small group has been challenging to me, especially in the subject matter of the study. We've been reading Wild at Heart by John Eldredge, and man, I have disliked the book pretty much. There have been some good moments, especially identifying "the wound" in my heart. But I've felt a significant disconnect from the author because he is trying to motivate us to reclaim a type of masculinity that I just do not identify with, that seems foreign to me, and one that I don't really see biblical or spiritual support. And in our small group (which is divided in men and women because the ladies are reading a complimentary book better suited for them), I'm not alone in my opinion, which is nice because I don't have to be as opinionated as I can be.

At the same time, I've been reading To Own a Dragon (TOaD) by Donald Miller, which is a book of reflections about growing up without a father. And while I didn't grow up without a father, I can definitely identify with some of the issues, as I definitely felt like I grew up alone, especially the older I got. Being the oldest of 5 children, I was left to depend on myself by 16 when I had a car and a couple of jobs. A lot of people would say I had a lot of freedom, which is true. But I can also say that while I said I wanted to grow up fast, I still needed to be cared for by parents, who in this case had other children more needing of that care than me, I guess.

I got to a chapter in TOaD where Miller starts to discuss manhood. He talked about a Promise Keepers rally, which I also attended I think sometime in college. He talked about what these Christian leaders were saying about how we should be as men. It was pretty agreeable, though I, like Miller, did not have a wife or children or mortgage or bills to take care of. So I stored it away as good preparation to remember. Then he gets to Wild at Heart, summarizing it pretty well as I think of it in my head, and says about the first time he read it (p. 101):

...I threw it across the room. I hated that book, and hated anybody who told me I was less of anything because I grew up without a father.

Yes, I thought to myself. Even Don agrees with me. But of course, I read on, which saddened, yet challenged me:

My roommate at the time loved the book, though, and on a long walk home from a coffee shop one night, he kindly explained the book goes on to talk about how God wants to heal the father wound, and how our identity as men comes from Him, how He steps in when our fathers step out. I picked it up again and read through it intensely.... it's a good read and I highly recommend it.

Crap! Ok, maybe I don't have to agree with Don all the time. (Actually I already don't always agree with him). But I do respect him and if he could give the book another shot, maybe I should too. Later in the chapter, Miller goes on to point out that God defines us as men simply because he designed us with a penis. That a man is a man is a man, and that our character will be developed as God shapes us on our journey, but we are still men based on this one feature. His encouragement continues (p. 108):

There are a number of books on [manhood] by guys who are actively trying to help us understand the journey. htere will be times reading these books when we are tempted to believe we don't have what it takes, but I doubt very seriouslyany author is trying to create an exclusive club that cuts us out of membership. Elaborating on how to navigate the journey of manhood is not something I know more about than these guys, but I think it bears repeating that, if God has spoken, the journey belongs to you and me as much as it belongs to a man who grew up with a father. And it is a journey we are on whether we like it or not.

For me, the idea God has spoken is an enourmous relief. If I begin to doubt my manhood, if I doubt I have what it takes, I simply have to duck into the nearest bathroom and check my shorts. If God has spoken, then I have within me what it takes to do the things a man needs to do, to become a good man for a women, for some kids, for an office, for whatever it is God wants me to do.

It is clear that God is working in parallel by hitting me with things from two angles. That cuts at my pride a bit, but also shows me that I need to dig deeper than just the surface area of what is in front of me. There are clearly dimensions here that I just don't understand, and I need to let God lead. Just as important, I need to commit myself more in investing my time as respect for the other people in our small group. Agree or not with the author, God wants me to commit to them, and dismissing the book and not putting in the time and energy because I don't agree with how his definition of a man (or how he is using the Bible to try to support it) is not really committing.
But God is also lifting me up through this in Miller's encouragement that I already do have what it takes to be a man. God has already declared me a man, and therefore, I need not try to re-define or re-declare that for myself. It is, again, another call to commit to the journey. And a journey that I need to be sure to stop and ask for directions often. And it is a journey on a whole other dimension that only God can lead me on, which makes me remember A New Kind of Christian, which I think I read way too fast.

The next milepost on the journey is Simply Christian by N.T. Wright, which I was motivated to read from a couple of articles in Christianity Today, like this one.

My discipline of writing is waining, as I wrote in reply of Joe's comment to a previous post. I really do need to get back to writing more frequently. Today, however, I'm exhausted, feeling the effects of numerous consecutive sleepless nights for reasons I don't know. So these thoughts might be more random than usual. Joe, by the way, is a guy who was a counselor at a Christian summer camp, Miracle Mountain Ranch, the summer that I was a counselor - 13 years ago this coming summer!!! I randomly reconnected with him virtually when I saw his submission listed on SlicedLaodicea, a commentary response site to Slice of Laodicea, which I was banned from commenting on some time ago. I don't know that we got to know each other too well back then, but it's a nice connection from my past, specifically a summer which had a great deal to do with my spiritual development, even if some of those developments were contrary to what the camp actually believed.

This morning I had my yearly performance appraisal with my director. She had given me her written comments a few days ago, and I'm not too humble to admit that it was a great appraisal. As A* pointed out to me yesterday, "You are more exceptional than solid, huh?!" It is a nice compliment given that I know I could be so much more disciplined and committed to my work than I am. She made another comment that I think I should think about more thoroughly: "You've handled life and work exceptionally this past year, especially given that you have moved and had a baby." I took this comment, combined with the written appraisal, that to mean that I have put in more than the expected amount of effort and produced in the same manner. That's all well and good, but it doesn't exactly fulfill my spirit or my life.

What dampers this appraisal is that I don't think I would get this type of appraisal for what really counts. My disciplines in reading, meditating, and writing in following Jesus are slipping. I'm still adjusting to being a husband in the face of also being a father. I have to admit (confess?) that I put much more effort in being a father to Amelia than I do a husband to A*. While I am now the single source of income, no amount of raise from a great appraisal at work can make up for a mediocre appraisal at home. Maybe I am being too hard on myself, but I do desire to be a more caring husband than the effort I have made. And I cannot allow work to be an excuse for failing at home. That is where my director's comments cut me because she can only comment from the work side of the balance. Could A* tell me the same thing as my director? I'm not so sure.

This is another reason in which I need to lean on Jesus, and in lean I mean spend time with Him so that I can be better equipped to love my wife, my child, and the world in which I interact. I keep going back to the remarkable love of Jesus the Amish displayed in the midst of tragedy that I wrote about. I want to be sure I am living in and display this same love throughout all of life, not just in tragedy, and especially at home.