God » Sean Durham

As Deep as We Need To

Nov 012011

So, last year I challenged myself to write some kind of coherent blog post for everyday in November. I’d been slacking in my literary/editorial pursuits and decided, like all truly distractible ideaphiles, that if I was going to get anything done, it’d have to be in the context of a regimented, disciplined every-damn-day-or-not-at-all dynamic.

So, I did. I wrote everyday, and a few friends joined me and it was profound.

This year, finds me less inspired. The momentum has slowed and I’ve found myself a heavier object to move. Used to be, words sat somewhere just below the earth’s surface. And and I’d just scrape a hand across her dusty face to find them. Nowadays, I have to dig.

Maybe, it’s because I actually do quite a bit of writing – so the words feel more diluted than they have before. Now I have to push the poetry uphill, but maybe that’s the way it should be.

When I think about it, about writing, the times its meant the most to me have never been when words have just danced themselves into order. I’m thankful for those times, to be sure, but I tend to forget about them.

It’s when I’m out of breath and out of hope, when the pen has dried and Plan-B has failed – I think it’s in that place where I most remember writing. So, in these times, I’ll try to write myself out of it – whatever it is. I write angry and fall asleep cold.

Then, I read it a week later. Mostly, I don’t discover that I’ve somehow channelled my inner-Fitzgerald. Usually, I find a bunch of angry verses thrown at the feet of a sober God. But, in those words, read in the context of the week’s healing, I find a beautiful, simple kind of grace.

So, I’m excited and already exhausted for these coming November nights. I’m praying that we’ll all come up empty a time or two and I’m praying that we remember to dig as deep as we need to. Maybe we find some words or maybe they find us – maybe, we find a good God in the middle of it all.

In every motion and joint of your body

God, life No Responses »

Jun 072011

I’ve got a beautiful friend, Shawnte. I had the honor of calling her a colleague for a few years, a few years ago. She’s since moved her life to Portland to work with Don Miller and The Mentoring Project and she’s living a really good story.

Sometimes I’m crushed under the weight of knowing so many gracious people. I feel guilty, almost – as though I’ve a responsibility to them, or maybe to God, to be a better man, and the kind of friend to them that they are to me. I’m proud to know such well-written characters and I’m glad for the opportunity to have shared a page or two with them.

Anyway, I found this Whitman passage on her blog and I think it’s just perfect.

This is what You (and I) shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence towards the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, reexamine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.

From Walt Whitman’s preface to Leaves of Grass

The Worst Part about Following Jesus

everydaymay, God, Writing 6 Responses »

May 252011

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.

On When and Why

everydaymay, God, life 1 Response »

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.

We’re Free, Remember?

God, Healing, life, Thoughts 1 Response »

Nov 262010

If I’ve learned one thing about humanity, it is that we are a chronically forgetful people. Not the “where’s the car keys?” kind of forgetting, but of a more devastating brand. A kind of historical-spiritual revisionism shows up in my daily life as I reflect upon the past and attribute the true, and absolute providence of God to my own ambition.

If I’m honest, I spend most of my life believing that it’s up to me. That it’s my job and it’s my future wife and it’s my friendships and it’s my weaknesses and it’s my life. So, it’s not that I simply forget about God – it’s that time, distance, and a liberal helping of my own pride steal the authorship of my story. So, maybe the word “remember” shows up in the bible over and over because God is infinitely attuned to our finiteness.

The Bible is literally full of historical accounts of God doing amazing things through regular people, them forgetting about it and God pouring grace into their doubt as a way to say “Remember that time I completely changed your life?”

Today, I’m reminded of this offer, this gift of freedom composed of sacrifice and soaked in hope. The offer is this – “Believe in who I am, remember who you are and stop being afraid.”

The truth is, freedom is terrifying

If we’re doing it alone.

But,

We’re led out of Egypt, remember?
We’re reborn, remember?
We’re free, remember?

All That Life

God, life, Thoughts 5 Responses »

Nov 202010

I want to be a strong man. I want a wife and a family and I want to love them well. I want a life marked by sacrifice and simplicity. I want to be a man who returns calls and leaves his door unlocked. I want to take my family for breakfast after church.

I want a house that smells like coffee and food and warmth and I want it always full of people. I want to live in community with my friends and their families; we’ll raise each other’s kids, paying special attention to our own. I want to keep tradition; nutcrackers at Christmas. I want to drink champagne with my wife on New Year’s Eve and play football the morning after. I want an old car that I drive on Sundays and I want kids who know who they are.

I want to work hard and do well. I want to communicate and build relationships and I want to buy the first round. I want to laugh honestly and breathe easy and I want to be an agent of hope. I want to live in love and let the world know why.

And I want God’s feet to mark the center, his proud arms holding the weight of all that life.

I guess that’s what I want when I grow up.

We Must First Be Moved

God, life is epic, Thoughts 2 Responses »

Sep 132010

Hopefully by now we understand that all is not relative, and that truth, the same truth, matters to everyone. As we sort through the rubble of the crumbled buildings of post-modernism (where we took shelter for too long) and try to reclaim some semblance of identity, we find a few nagging motives still alive, crawling to the surface through the fallen concrete.

Even though we thought the story was about something else, What remains are the characters in the stories we’re telling. Maybe now they’re petrified in their inaction – stalled, sad and motionless, but alive they remain. The stories we’re telling, they aren’t subjective anymore but they are uniquely ours. They’re sweating and real and penned into existence by an Author who gave His characters life, opportunity, reward, a clear outline of the plotline, millions of beautiful examples and the creative freedom to write a powerfully good story. He’s handed the pen to us, and said “Go.”

But, the stories are long and rife with the stuff of decisions. There’s equal parts hope and trust and danger and shame and they all end with the same bold period whether it’s punctuating a few sad words or a grand epic.

There’s a profound gravity to opportunity and most of us find some shelter, some comfort in motionlessness. I spent a long time blaming fear, but maybe it’s really because inaction yields predictable results. Go nowhere, do nothing. It’s a simple algorithm, “if not this, then not that.”

But I’m tired of the stillness and I think God is, too. I’m done with fear and I’m done with shame. We all want to be swept into a movement, and we might, but we must first be moved.

Old Testament Notes

God, truth No Responses »

Aug 052010

A few notes from my Old Testament Reading.

I know what you’re thinking – no I did not steal these from Billy Graham

Bigger Dreams and This Month’s Chapter

Chapters, God, Writing 3 Responses »

Aug 022010

More than a specific challenge, God gave me a theme for this month. “Risk” He said – I heard it clearly. “But how?” I replied, He was silent. So I kept the idea in my pocket until I read a quote a few days ago.

I don’t remember where I’d read it, but it was something to the effect of our “dreams being be so big that they aren’t reachable without God.” – This flies in the face of the ethos of safety I’ve adopted. I like small dreams, not because they’re easy to realize, but because they’re easy to abandon. If I have only a tenuous relationship with a dream and it never realizes, I’m not brokenhearted when I walk away from them – or they from me.

But oh, if I really want something – worse, if God’s compelling me toward something, then it’s scary – then, it’s weighty, then it’s risky. But I know a God who calls us towards danger – not with the promise of being there when we arrive, but of being with us as we run to it.

So this month, I’m going to be reading the Old Testament.

I know what you’re thinking and I agree. The truth is, I went to bed a few nights ago with the idea of reading the entire bible this month. I was terrified but determined (It was late). The reading plans I’d researched called for about 2.5 hours of reading a day – which is fine, that’s about what I’d been spending on blogs for the past month. But, thing is – I have to keep writing. And honestly, it might be too overwhelming to keep a regular blogging schedule while committing to probably 3 hours of reading a day (I get distracted).

But, the Old Testament isn’t short. My Bible puts Genesis to Malachi at a solid 799 pages – if I’m honest, that’s already the longest book I’ve ever read. Divided by 31 days, my reading is about 26 pages a day. It’s daunting, and I’m scared and I honestly don’t know if I’ll make it. But I know that’s why I have to run towards it.

This has been the first month where I’ve been legitimately scared about failing. No meat was easy – boring, but easy. Pancakes, no bacon. No caffeine was largely a bad idea, but it proved discipline where I needed it. Even blogging everyday was a beautiful burden. But this? The Old Testament? This guy who begat this guy who begat this guy who had this wife and was sold for this many shekels? Two days in, and the Old Testament has already been some kind of desert. But I’m going to do it, well – I’m going to try, and if I can, it will only be testament to a faithfulness I can’t understand.

I can’t tell you enough how these small Chapters have already changed my year. A few of us are determined to remembering our stories – I hope you read about them, but more than that I hope you’ll come too.

On Quitting Christianity

God 19 Responses »

Jul 292010

I’ve never read an Anne Rice book, but want to now more than ever.

Today (it’s blowing up all kinds of news) she officially and publicly “quit Christianity” – that is, she’s relinquished the title of “Christian.” I’ll be honest, I read at first and balked. “Why give up the title?” I thought. Her explanation:

“For those who care, and I understand if you don’t: Today I quit being a Christian. I’m out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being “Christian” or to being part of Christianity. It’s simply impossible for me to “belong” to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.”

I’ve been thinking about it all day – but still haven’t come up with something like an opinion (what’s that matter anyways?) but it’s been a good kind of introspection.

Who invented Christianity? The easy answer is Jesus, but it’s not true. It’s a concept we, who have lived in the years following Christ who have identified, labeled – branded the term as someone who “follows Christ”, literally translated, “little-Christs.” Which is a good thing, it’s a point of pride, an honor to be known as someone who follows the way of Christ, who I consider to be the son of God.

In truth, sometimes I feel enraptured by the identification offered by Christianity. I love the idea of it. I’ll be honest, sometimes I love the formula of it. The crisp mornings and top-40 worship songs and toothy pastors. I love post-church lunches and the overwhelming optimism that surrounds Sunday mornings. And it’s easy to get soaked in that feeling, addicted to it. It’s easy to forget about Jesus, or at least, it’s easy to think that he looks a lot like me.

I’m not calling for denunciation of Christianity, but – maybe she’s on to something. It’s dangerous to draw our identity from our group instead of our God. If I call myself a Christian, I’m then measured against not only the historical record of Christianity – not necessarily Christ, but also the subjective evaluation of the person you’re being introduced to. I’ve never killed anyone in the name of God, I’d never colonize unclaimed territory because I felt the compelling call of Christ.

But Christians have, and by association, we share in that infamy. Maybe Anne Rice, by pulling away from the label is now “free” to follow God independent of any labels, unswayed by any group-think, socially allowed to be a follower of Christ, rather than a Christian. She follows up her resignation letter with:

…. I quit being a Christian. I’m out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.

It’s scary stuff, and I think she makes a compelling case. But I’m not ready to quit. I think there’s enough room in our future the kind of revival that redeems our past.

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