A confessional interlude

i will get back to the Christian Fatalism series (I HAVE TO NOW as you will see if you read this!)  But i thought this was worth sharing too and i can see how the two are tied together, woven like cancerous tumors around a spine.  This is just raw, unedited journal entry from this morning.  Use it if it's helpful, toss it if your sins are different than mine.

2018 05 28,

“But you were not willing to go up, and you rebelled against the command of Yahweh your God.  And you grumbled in your tents, and you said, “Because of the hatred of Yahweh toward us he has brought us out from the land of Egypt to give us into the hand of the Amorites to destroy us.  Where can we go up?”

“Dorothy Sayers defines “sloth” as “the sin which believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, loves nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and only remains alive because there is nothing it would die for.”

Lazy people do not love life enough to work hard to enjoy more of it, and the don’t love people enough to work hard so they can—as the righteous can— give without sparing.”

…

“When we think of a lazy person, we think of someone who doesn’t start things.  But there is also a kind of person who is always making plans and always starting but never finishing any project.  They don’t stay at jobs long, and they always blame the job itself rather than their own lack of stick-to-it-iveness.  Either they lose interest because of a lack of inner passion for anything or they have failed to count the cost and so find themselves overwhelmed.”

Tim and Kathy Keller

Father, just when i thought i’d hit a foundational sin of mine with the cynicism you go and pull the cover back more and convict me, stab me with sloth.  Guilty!  i am guilty!  What more can i do!  How can i now change??  What does repentance look like?  Surrounded as i am by a rotting house i never finished, a broken family, sons which do not serve and love you, an ipad full of unfinished drawings, a laptop full of unfinished books, a blog with an unfinished series…!  i am my father’s son.  i am lazy!  i am sloth.  Lord have mercy on me a sinner!  No wonder i have longed for a cause!  No wonder i have longed for a purpose!  And yet Lord, i feel like you have stood in my way every time i did feel the fire to move, to act, to become!  Was i not ready?  Was i not true?  Was i just starting or trying to, another project that i would not finish?  

What can be done with me now?  Is there anything left?  The generation which cursed you in the desert and turned its back on you is still alive in me.  The generation which refused the good gifts you had for it and made excuses instead is alive and well in me.  How many more years must i languish?  Is there any Joshua or Caleb in me?  Or is there only some Moses, angry at myself, at my sin but sinning on top of it and not treating you as holy and therefore not worthy of your rest?

Am i still avoiding true repentance?

CF4: Calling it out

"Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.  If you had known me, you would have known my Father also."  John 14

It's time.  Time to call out the lies.  Time to drag the monsters out from under the bed and into the Light of Truth.  We have languished here too long; it has festered; it is time to pull the splinter.  Scooby Doo and those meddling kids have yanked the polite, smiling hypocrisy off the Christian Fatalist and uncovered the bitter heart of the cynic pumping vitriol beneath.  We have two choices when God calls us out, there is still time, we are still only on the road, only on our way to the Judge, we can agree with our accuser, confession is just that, it is agreeing with what Jesus says about us.  Now mind you, it's going to be hard, it's going to hurt, this is heart surgery, not Bactine and a band-aid, but if you're ready to really, truly start changing, start healing, if you really want to know the Father, this is the only Way there is...

"But turning around and seeing his disciples, he rebuked [you] and said, "Get behind me, Satan, because you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but the things of people!"  Mark 8

Whoa now!  Whoa!  Satan?  i mean, i got a little anger management problem yeah but Satan?  That's hyperbole!  That's totally out of line!  Me?  Satan?

Yeah.  Jesus don't play.  i told you, this was serious.  This is foundational.  You can keep confessing your fatalism or your cynicism or your anger if you want, you can keep treating symptoms all your life, your self-medicating, your dissipation, your porn problem, your fantasy life, your drinking, your time wasting, fine.  Do it.  It certainly won't hurt and you may see some improvement.  But if you want to live and not just live but live abundantly, live on purpose, live on mission, have a real, honest-to-God reason for living, you're going to have to take Jesus' hand with a spike hole in it and follow him where you may not want to go.  And how are you going to do that if you don't even believe what he says?

"Why do you not understand my way of speaking?  Because you are not able to listen to my message.  You are of your father the devil, and you want to do the desires of your father!  That one was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand firm in the truth, because the truth is not in him.  Whenever he speaks the lie, he speaks from his own nature, because he is a liar and the father of lies.  But because I am telling the truth, you do not believe me."  John 8

Cynicism is founded on two very fundamental lies which the cynic has most likely not thought out loud but has said in oh so many ways and built their lives upon:
     1. God is not God
     2. I am.
Even before we discuss how the cynic expresses them, can you not see how Jesus immediately recognizes his creation, Lucifer, Satan, the Serpent, the fallen angel in them?  Obdurate, outrageous pride!  How are we like that?

How are we not?  When we hoped for what we saw: the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes and the arrogance of material possessions; what we coveted, what we envied of the world around us and we asked God for it, whatever it was and we could make endless lists, God either steadfastly refused to give it to us or gave it to us for a season and then took it away or worse: gave us suffering we never asked for nor did it come into our minds to.  Then we got angry, we got hurt, we got upset and why?  Because we.  Deserved.  Better!  That is what our anger says.  That is what our self-pity says.  "I deserve better than this!"  "Why me?"  Oh, maybe at first we slapped the Christian platitudes on it, "God has a plan."  "God will never give you more than you can handle."  "Everything works for good for those who serve him."  But after a while... after five years, ten, twenty, do i hear forty?

The platitudes become parry and buckler and rote.  The smile a thin rigid mask.  The heart a stone.  Because if i deserved better, if i'm too good for this then God is either not good, not loving or not able to help.  And since God says he is all of those things then God would also have to be a liar.  God, therefore, couldn't possibly be the God he says he is.  The foundational lie: God is not God.  I am.  We have said with Sheba ben Bichri, "There is no share for us in David, and there is no inheritance for us in the son of Jesse...!"

Are your fists still clenched?  Are your teeth yet grinding?  Are your lips still tightly bound over a tongue which coils and rages to whip forth venom and cursing?  Do you stare daggers into the back of this Jesus who dares to name you, to judge you(!) as he turns from you toward Jerusalem?  Toward the Passover?  Toward betrayal?  Toward the Creator being tried by the creation?  Toward a beating?  A scourge?  A flail?  A cross?  If you do, then i have nothing for you but my pity, which i doubt you want.

But if it breaks you, if you're heart can still cry with the Spirit planted within you, "Abba Father!  Have mercy on me a sinner!"  If you can still cry at all, if you truly, deeply want to change no matter what it costs, then the next time we talk, we will speak of Good News!

CF3: the Cynic goes there

Fatalism, Pessimism and Cynicism all walk into a bar.  They order drinks, sit down at a booth and Fatalism holds his glass up, "What will be, will be!"
Pessimism clinks glasses with him and adds, "Yep, and it will most probably suck!"
Cynicism just takes a sip of his bitter drink and mutters, "You know why that is, don't ya."

"Man, who is born of woman,
Is short lived and full of turmoil.
Like a flower he comes forth and withers.
He also flees like a shadow and does not remain."  Job 14

Dreams.  Ambition.  Desire.  Hope.  To live is to live FOR something.  Whether one desires a quiet life or an epic one, one still has hopes and set requirements for those hopes.  A steady job, a loving family and a house in the burbs or a mission field, a backpack and a pocket English-to-Whuddeesay dictionary or a million dollars, a mansion and a yacht or a rented flat in a grimy city and an IBM selectric typewriter or a charming brownstone, an artist girlfriend and a good coffee shop down on the corner; the family farm; the military career; the next promotion; the next raise; the next game; the next diploma; the next kid; the next grandkid; the next acquisition; the next sale; retirement or acclaim; travel or finally settling down; the next thrill; the next church plant; the next rung up whatever ladder you thought your life was about whatever that thing may be, that's what you're living FOR.

But a mountain falls; it crumbles away,
and a rock moves from its place.
Water wears away stones;
its torrents wash away the soil of the earth;
so you destroy the hope of human beings.
You overpower him forever, and he passes away;
you change his countenance, then you send him away.
His children may come to honor, but he does not know it;
or they may become lowly, but he does not realize it.
He feels only the pain of his own body,
and he mourns only for himself."  Job 14

Or you're just surviving.  The stark contrast between the spark in one man's eyes or a thousand yard stare in another can be whether or not they still believe in their dreams, desires and ambitions.  Whether their hopes still seem attainable or something... or someone... has crushed them.  They might still have things to live for but those goals have a much different flavor than they once did: the next drink, the next card game, the next fishing trip, the next vacation, the next affair, the next chance alone in a dark room with their computer, the next hit, the next installment of their show, the next offering from Marvel or Marilyn Manson or Tim Keller, time alone in the garage, or in the library, or in the garden, or on the mower...

The Fatalist has given up but he hasn't really thought about why.  The Pessimist has a why but he hasn't really thought out the implications of that why.  He doesn't allow himself to.  The Cynic has.  The Cynic is a frustrated idealist.  At some point he sentimentally believed in the good, the way things could be, should be and would be if people really, really tried.  And if he's a Christian, then he thought he had every right to believe those things really could and would be!

But they did not.  They did not come true.  People didn't really try.  They didn't.  They were too busy, too important, too adamant, too weak, too interested in their own plans and dreams, too distracted, too fatalistic, too pessimistic, too cynical.  His dreams failed and he did too.  Whether he blames himself or not.  He has looked behind the frustrated dreams, the crushed hopes and he has seen that man, at his core is selfish and always only thinks of himself.  He's heard of Total Depravity and he buys it.  There is no one who does good, no not one.  All of humankind is a liar!

Man is just not good.  Therefore, Life is just not good.

And if he's honest, and if the drink is bitter enough, you might get him to admit what he's truly thinking.  What he's afraid to think out loud.  What he's even more terrified to commit to writing but is the underlying framework in which he lives, breathes and chooses to be angry, disgruntled and morose.

That maybe God isn't good either.

No, i won't leave it here, this is a terrible place to leave it off for now but sometimes... we have to sit in a terrible place... to be continued.