love more even with less

if faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain, what can love of the same size accomplish? why do we sit around waiting for some swell of love to overcome our hearts when the smallest tug would be enough? isn't love like yeast, which seems small until it is worked into the dough and rises, changing the outcome drastically. if we work what little love we have out, will it abound and cause our hearts to rise and swell with love? why are you afraid of this?

i guess what i'm saying is: give love a chance. even if it's a fleeting one. even if you don't feel like it's enough.

the unlearned voice

Forrest, my brother(in-law) posted this comment on one of my previous posts, but I thought it was so good, I thought I'd put it up here for those who might not venture to the 'comments' section.

Forrest writes:

The issue of how the culture we live in affects how we view God and religion really strikes a chord in me. It's obvious to me that we are light years away from a garden, with simple communion with God, contentment, and simplicity. As adanced as we are tecnologically, and as easy it is to communicate, it's frightening how deficient we have become relationally.

Our three-and-a-half month old son has recently begun to try to talk to us (keyword: try). Granted, he's far away from being able to form words, much less sentences, but lately he has started grunting and vocalizing in such a way that it's obvious he's trying to communicate, or at least imitate. As we've experienced this, I've often wondered if I could make the same noises that he makes. I don't just mean generic grunts and coos and murmurs, I mean truly unlearned, unpracticed, and unpurposed noises. I realized that I know so much about how to speak, what to say, how to say it, and that my tongue has been conditioned so completely with a limited language of appropriate, "English-sounding" sounds that even if I tried, I couldn't make a purely untaught, undisciplined, or unintentional sound.

I bring this up only because it seems the same in the area of spirituality. We have been so thoroughly conditioned by the world we live in, we have lost a great deal of the spontenaity, poverty, and simplicity that is required to really approach God in a meaningful way. But should we really be surprised? This idea is directly consistent with the fall of man and the by-product is the broken world in which we live.

My hope and belief is that we are not beyond recovery. God created us with an inifinite capacity to think and advance and I would wager that He knew exactly what He was doing. It's such a challenge, though, to try and put aside these ingrained habits and inclinations, especially when our culture and world puts so much emphasis on them.

come, risen Lord. teach us your resurrection

I have been writing Eugene for about three months now. Eugene is living on North Carolina’s death row, where he’s been condemned by the state to die for a crime he may or may not have committed. Our writing relationship started slowly, but as any friendship, we grew more comfortable with one another over time. I had been meaning to visit him in prison for quite some time now, but had been too “busy” (which really means that I was subconsciously putting it off). Walking into a prison to spend an hour talking to someone you barely know is a daunting task. But that is where I found myself today. This past Thursday, I made an appointment to come visit Eugene (or Teddy as he likes to be called), and had been thinking and praying about it over the weekend. And I have to say, I was a bit nervous about the whole thing.

The visitation process isn’t as onerous as I thought it might be. When I first arrived, I was asked to check in and get a visitation pass. Once the time came for my appointment, I simply walked to the main building, showed my photo I.D., got in an elevator, went up, and stepped out into the visitation room. Pretty simple. I was directed to room number five, where Teddy was anxiously awaiting my visit. As I walked in the very small concrete and poorly lit visiting room and sat on the small stool, I was immediately greeted warmly with a big grin through a glass and steel wall. All anxiety about the visit dissipated. All nervousness in my stomach gone. The conversation started and didn’t stop for an entire hour, when the guard came to notify me that my time was up. Teddy and I covered a spectrum of topics with our conversation, which flowed as naturally as the Mississippi River from one subject to the next. What struck me was the familiarity of the whole thing. Sure, there were a few awkward pauses, but overall, I felt very much at ease talking with Teddy. And I think I have a hunch why.

Christ said that when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the prisoner, it is as if we are doing it unto Him. I’ve preached this for years, but the full impact did not hit me until I walked into a small room and talked to Christ through a veil of glass and steel. Maybe this is why my nerves were settled.; why it felt so familiar. I have been proclaiming my faith in Christ for 17 years now, and yet very seldom have I sat in His presence as I did today at Central Prison in Raleigh, NC. The death penalty ceased to be an issue for me and it became real. It was given a face. It became a friend‘s struggle. It became Teddy’s - no, it became Christ’s struggle.

Our Lord was executed at the hands of the state, and I believe He understands well the struggle of men and women facing death at the hands of our state. To visit the prisoner is to spend time with Christ, and to stand against the execution of a fellow human being is to proclaim that Christ has brought life to all and that death no longer has power over us. This is why I oppose the death penalty. Sure, there are many other great reasons to oppose the machinery of death. But Christ’s death and resurrection have shown us that death is no longer needed and we are invited to share in the life of the Eternal One, and this is what compels me to say "NO" to the sacrificial killings to the god of vengeance and hatred.