“The Lord’s mercy often rides to the door of our heart upon the black horse of affliction.”
Charles H. Spurgeon
SeanDurham
May 292011
May 262011
I was in an accident on Saturday. I wrote about it – it was rough.
As I hobble through the healing process (made a little better by muscle relaxers and pain killers) there are a few unexpected obstacles.
Goosebumps – Have become impossible to bear. The new skin on my back and the bandages and the ointment make getting goosebumps the worst part of any cold situation.
Hiccups – I literally pray against getting hiccups.
Rolling Over in Bed – My least favorite part of the sleep process. Something has been torqued my belly and it makes the “twisting” function incredibly painful. The strange thing is, I can roll to my left side, but rolling to my right from my back is impossible. The stopgap I’ve discovered is to perform an almost-full revolution, rolling over to my left and cruising until I land on my right. I’m sure God chuckles a little.
Overall, though – it’s been good. Of all the things that could have (should have) conspired towards me being really, really hurt, I am a blessed man.
I used to pray that God wouldn’t send me to Africa. Because I used to think that the Christian life worked on a linear progress-scale. I thought that, at some stage in your faith you were required (or something like required) to sell your stuff and live with wild animals in South Africa. And that terrified me. I was a spoiled child, to be sure.
Then, thankfully, I learned about the “many parts/one body” dynamic and I also learned something about “calling.” It put me at ease to know that those wildebeest-befriending missionaries weren’t just upended businessmen and PTA volunteers – they were hardwired for the missional life, and, for the most part were living in the center of joy because they were living in the center of their calling. No one goes unwillingly from the tract home to the teepee.
So, I’m older now but only a little wiser. I’m not scared anymore of Christian henchmen stealing me and sending me to Africa. But these days, I’m bound by another kind of reticence.
Most people talk about the fullness of God – the rich, deep joy found in following him – and, to be sure I’ve found those things to be true. But what I’m finding is that, in this story, there are immutable laws to which the Author chooses to hold us. Things are better in this story, but different.
This thing, this story, this fairy tale, this Christian life. It’s real, and if we let it, it changes everything.
Because “break my heart for what breaks yours” is not just another line in a worship song – it’s the most dangerous prayer we can pray. It’s what turns casual jokes at work into embarrassing displays of emotion. It’s what turns racist-political bumper stickers into genuinely deep sorrow. It’s what turns a dirty child, held too tightly by her father into a near outburst at the DMV.
But, it’s also what turns sunrises into grand orchestral movements and mountains into shoulders of glory. It’s what turns motorcycle accidents into movements of grace and turns conversation into conversion and people into poetry. It is a beautiful and full and messy and painful and glorious life that simply won’t be walked away from.
And it’s not for lack of trying. Believe me, I’ve tried to write a hundred different stories. Stories about lust or ambition or pride…or even just good stories, the kind about stucco walls and safe, sparkling teeth.
But I can’t, I can’t outrun or out-write the inescapable, inexplicable pursuit of the Jesus story. The one about glory and sunrises and healing and restoration. I’ve tried to find these things on my own, I’ve dug deep into my pockets and every time have pulled out sweaty, empty hands.
The worst thing about following Christ is not the persecution you face (in America, almost none) it’s not the promotions you miss because you don’t go to the strip club with your boss. It’s not the 10% missing from your disposable income.
It’s that you can’t go back.
You can’t. And thank God for that.
May 232011
EverydayMay – I have neglected you. I won’t offer an excuse, but it’s been a rough 48 hours.
I’ll have a full update tomorrow.
May 212011
I’m not a fan of dramatics, but I’m currently blogging from the hospital bed.
I rolled a quad today, came in a little hot around a trail and it threw me off and down into a ditch, I hear it was about an 8 foot fall. Inertia did as it always does and sent the quad tumbling off of the same trail edge, resting finally on top of me.
I remember the impact, my back against the brush. I remember feeling a strange, quiet chaos. Both peaceful and painful.
And, when the quad came tumbling off of the edge I remember thinking that this could be really, truly bad. I covered my head and the quad hit and I felt the impact of the seat and some tires. I remember my body compressing.
I stood to my feet and took inventory of my body. I remember wriggling my toes to make sure I could, and feeling my arms and legs for their bones.
I walked slowly and found encouragement in my slow, labored steps. “I can walk, that’s a good sign right?” I remember the quad’s engine sputter and stop, it on it’s side.
So, here I lay face down in a hospital bed, the nurse preparing me for scrubbing. My back, exposed and cold. My left arm has an IV, and I just had a ct scan.
The doctor told me that there’s a man down the hall who also flipped his quad earlier today. She asked if we were together – his brain is bleeding and it’s not looking good.
So here I am, still wriggling my toes, wrapped in as much grace as I am in gauze.
May 192011
I’ve a friend who is a good father. He’s got four kids and knows what he’s doing.
We were talking last night about my ‘need’ to know the ‘why’ in every situation. I was sharing my story of God calling and me waiting like a spoiled child insisting to know “why” before listening to his father.
A beautiful thing about God is that he’ will meet us in our “why” – eventually, because he’s a good father. But I believe that if we keep insisting that He does, our sanctification will be spread out over a long, half-satisfied lifetime. We will to be so busy making God prove himself to us that – we might actually run out of time to live in the abundance he’s aching to give us.
So, my friend explained that when he sees his son in the street – and there’s a car approaching, he demands that his son obey and move. Quickly. Maybe his son sees the car, but maybe he doesn’t and simply obeys his father. So after he does, the son asks his father why he had to move.
Because my friend is a good father, he’ll explain that he commanded his son to move because, from his perspective, he saw that his son was In danger. And his son’s obedience is what allows for the dialogue and communion and life they’re experiencing now.
I believe God delights in satisfying our need to know why, and he’ll pore over the reasons He’s designed us for life with him, but we have to listen, move and get out of the street. So it isn’t wrong to want to know the “why” – it brings us into intimacy.
So, I’m learning (thanks to lessons from a good father) that it’s not about the why, it’s about the when.
Sometimes I wonder if doing the hard work of writing (or any art) is harder for our generation than it was for the ones before us. There’s literally unlimited distraction on tap, ready to pour at us from the same screen most of us use to do the creating.
I wonder if there isn’t some strong spiritual war raging around us, turning our heads, quickening our minds and keeping us from participating in the sacred act of creation. We call it “ironic” that our generation has seen more technological advancement than any before it – and yet, we’re more distracted than ever.
I wonder if there’s something deeper.
Writer friends, what do you do to stay focused?
May 172011
Ok, my ENFJ friends (everybody) – I have a secret. I’ve been mascarading as one of you for some time now, but I just can’t stand myself anymore. All the deception, the posturing, the cover-ups and the sleepless nights…all of it ends now.
I
Am
A
“p”
{Deep exhale}
I’d given up wanting to be a “T” awhile ago, though it was tough. “A man should be a “thinker”" I’d say. Cool and indifferent and detached and…not me. But, I was wrong. My idea of masculinity had been distilled to it’s basest forms – so there has been freedom both in the realignment of my definition as well as my identity.
But this P/J issue has not gone quietly.
What I’ve come to experience (through the Godshape classes) is that, who you are when you’re at peace is who you are. So, while I value order and structure and concrete boundaries – those don’t bring me peace, they bring me…money.
I’ve put a literal value on the “J” dynamic because it (at least in my flawed definition of it) is what my job requires of me. But peace? Not so much.
So, I hope my ENFJ friends don’t disown me for turning in my badge.
I love language and communication. I love the dynamic between the two; I think about our thoughts and hearts anxious in some secret dressing-room, clothing themselves in words – waiting for the big reveal.
But, I don’t act this way most of the time. Usually, I say things before weighing their potential impact and, mostly, I end up thinking about/apologizing for letting too many escape before dressing themselves in wisdom. They’re all just out there, running around naked.
So I’ve noticed that when I’m afraid of the perceived impact of my words, I’ll fasten these “lexical bumpers” – to the ends in attempt to soften their blow or firm up their mush.
For example:
A married friend has a night free (rare, understandably)
“Want to grab a drink?”
My response, invariably will begin with the Lexical Bumper (LB) “Ah” – which is a classic softening device. These kinds of LB interactions happen to me all the time; I’m basically a professional socio-verbal martial artist.
My reply will be littered with LB’s.
Me: “Ah man, I’d love to – I just told (insert name) that I’d go walk their dog/eat their food/read their book” so I won’t be able to. Next time though.
To which my friend will reply “No problem, see you soon” or, something to that effect – never responding to or acknowledging my selfish blow-softener. I could have said “Sorry, I can’t” – which, I believe satisfies so much more than a seemingly-flippant apology, couched by an excuse.
And, there is a thin line between using an LB and… well, lying. We know that lying is no good. But, there’s also a thin line between being direct and being abrasive. Which is also no good, and perhaps just as damaging. So, I think most of us land somewhere between the extremes. Even without lying or being rude, I wonder if these devices are any good, anyway? Is my friend truly spared any discomfort as a result of my over-caution? Or am I the one seeking comfort in hoping to manipulate whatever reaction I’m planning for?
Or, does he just wish I would have just trimmed the fat and addressed the issue.
Of course, there are extreme examples – like the time I last minute (like, DAY OF last minute) told a winter-formal date that “I was really sorry, but I couldn’t get a ride and plus I [was] grounded” and ended up totally ditching her on what was probably an important night for her. The beautiful, sanctified irony is, my LB was so stratospherically far outside of the truth/pleasantrie venn diagram that I actually WAS grounded when my mom found out that I’d lied to a girl instead of just telling her I didn’t want to go. Which, I might have deserved.
So what do we do about Lexical Bumpers? Do we keep them and hone them to a point where we’re spared a lie or an offense? Or is there a better middle-ground where trust and truth and community is offered – where we live in such a way that transparency trumps perception?
I think I like that idea.
Also, there’s a 90% chance that I think about these things more than a normal person should/would and here’s to hoping my winter formal date landed on her feet.
May 152011
EverydayMay – I love you.
I pray for things to happen, but, if I’m honest, what I want most is just for God to make himself known. I trust that He is a good king, and that my sanctification is the goal, but what I don’t like is the hiddenness of it all.
That said, I am blown away by the obviousness of God’s movement in a little mosaic of writers and new friends. I love seeing God move so passionately in their life – makes me think that maybe God is in deep persuit of us afterall.
EverydayMay, thanks for your stories.