so_out_of_ideas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
so_out_of_ideas) wrote2007-06-06 12:08 pm
so_out_of_ideas) wrote2007-06-06 12:08 pm
Entry tags:
Evidence of Love
I had a really bad day yesterday, and no I really don't want to talk about it. What I want talk about is something more important. I guess it doesn't really matter to me if anyone wants to read it or not, and if I offend you, I apologize.
A friend sent me a link to a video yesterday. It's a beautiful piece of songwriting, and the vocal harmonies are just honestly peaceful and lovely. The link is here if anyone wants it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVcRiLgRkdE
It got me thinking, but I'll cut for anyone who doesn't care.
Sometimes, when I look at the world around me, all I see is darkness. I don't mean to make some kind of cultural commentary. I'm not here to get on soapbox because I'm Christian and talk about how people who don't happen to believe what I do about Jesus should somehow be compelled to think and act like me.
I'm not going to whine about how the media glorifies violence or sex or a morality different from mine. When I look at the world, I see children who go to bed hungry. I see older brothers and sisters who had to be parents to their siblings because their own parents were too caught up in problems and addictions. I see little kids who don't have to turn on the TV to witness violence and killing. I see an old couple who spent their lives serving others, giving, helping and who now often don't have enough to live on. I see a woman who gave her life to her children and grandchildren, who spent her life working to support them, and who now sits alone because they all live far away and I guess just don't have the time to come and talk to her or call on the phone.
I see a church content to sit in its sanctuary pews on Sunday morning, sing some songs, maybe have a big emotional moment of repentance. When it's over, we feel really good and special and loved by the Lord, and we go to have coffee and talk about how right on Pastor was for a minute or two, and then we get down to business. Sometimes it's planning church events, sometimes it's the charity drive, or the missionary conference; mostly it's whose skirt was a half inch too short or who's doing something they shouldn't do or whose kids are listening to the "wrong" music or watching the "wrong" show on TV.
I'm as guilty of it as anyone. I whine about not having CDs or DVDs so I can cap them on my big expensive computer and make fanart. I have a picture of Michael Shanks over my bed. I cry over Anakin and Obi-Wan, and I complain because I don't have the money to go to fan conventions like my friends, when I know I have neighbors who probably don't have enough to eat or maybe even toilet paper in the house to use.
We wonder why people are so turned off by our mention of Jesus. We're offended. Worse than that, we're sanctimonious and arrogant. How can they not want to hear the Gospel? How can they be so "deceived"? Isn't it sad how "lost" that "those" people are. Maybe we're the ones who're lost. Oh, not our souls. Jesus took care of those at Calvary. Yet we've lost our perspective. We can't remember a time when we had faith and not religion.
The traditions of our church bodies have their place. I've learned to love the quiet dignity of Catholic Mass. The smell of incense, the unity that comes from corporate prayer and vocal response when it isn't simply rote repetition, the murmur of "Peace be with you," are things I have remembered and held with me all my life no matter what I happened to believe about God at the time. I have also learned to love the simplicity of worship in a small independent Baptist church and the unabashed and open joy of Charismatic Christianity. These are religion, and religion is a part of any human expression of faith, but religion cannot replace faith in the life of someone who follows Jesus Christ. When we allow this to happen, we become a mockery of everything he tried to teach and everything he did on that fateful Friday afternoon.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. Love your neighbor as much as you already love yourself. That is what Christianity is about. That is what Jesus said. It isn't about obligation, or how many times we go to church, or how many prayers we say, whether anyone is looking or listening or not. It isn't about the songs we sing or what we give from our paychecks. It is about loving him--not feeling guilty because he died and we don't deserve that sacrifice--but loving him for who and what he is. Feed the hungry. Clothe the poor. Comfort the sick and dying. Visit those in prison, whether it's a prison of bars or a prison of old age. Yes, we should do these things, but not because we are commanded to. We should do them in love.
The fact that I often don't makes me wonder where I am as a human being and as Christian. The fact that we don't as a church makes me profoundly sad. A friend sent me a beautiful song last night called "Evidence of Love" by the band First Call. The song was written by Bonnie Keen, and I guess when she was writing it, she was also going through a horribly ugly and painful divorce, which to me makes the lyrics all the more meaningful. Every bit of evidence the song gives is simple and down to earth and absolutely true. It made me ask myself, in the world I see around me, where is the evidence of love?
I see it in my friend Tammy who will get up on Saturday after having worked a double shift to take her grandmother grocery shopping because no one else will. I see it when she goes out at night after work to bring me a Snicker's bar because I don't have one, and I see it when I realize that we can sit in the same house for an entire day reading, not saying anything to each other and being perfectly content that this a perfect way to hang out. I feel it in the fact that we know each other so well after something like thirteen years that no matter what we say or how we feel, or whether we agree or disagree, we understand the other's point of view, and we know that we will find support and not judgment or even advice unless we want it.
I hear it in the clock tower bells outside my window. When I first moved to this city, I was farther down than I had ever been in my life. Then one afternoon, I was driving somewhere with my friend Karen. I don't even remember where or why, but I remember we stopped at Dunkin Donuts and she bought coffee or something, and we sat in the parking lot talking, when all the sudden we began to hear the music of the bells. We just stopped talking, closed our eyes and listened. It was the first hope I'd had since I left my ex-husband. Now I live where I can see the tower out my window, and I hear the bells every day.
I see it in the lights on Main Street at night, and the ducks that come up out of the river to let the kids feed them right in the middle of a city bridge because they know the cars will slow down and go around. I smell it in the aroma of the same chocolate chip cookies from Crosby's that I've gotten for the past seven years. Every time I go to the post office, I tell myself I am not going to stop at the bakery on the way home, but somehow I manage to find myself there because you just can't walk past that door and not stop in.
I also hear it in the off key singing of the guy who cleans the halls and bathrooms in the apartment building where I live. Everyone loves Jack. We know that his life is sometimes really hard, but he's always able to put on a cheerful smile and ask how we are. He wakes us up singing every morning while he cleans, and no matter what we might be going through we have to smile for a second, even on those days when we're tempted to roll our eyes and say, "Geez, does he ever stop that?" He wins us over every time. I don't know how. It's something about the Spanish accent and the words, "I've got sunshine…on a cloudy day…"
More than anything, I see it in my grandparents. There's a particular line in the song that makes me think of them, but really it's more than a simple crucifix hanging on a wall. Everything important that I know about God's love I learned by watching them. They have taught me to love patiently and without judgment, that holiness is not sanctimonious or pretentious, and has nothing to do with clothing or entertainment choices. They have shown me giving without expectation and faith that is both real and relevant.
There are other things, of course. These are the ones that come to mind for me at the moment, and I thought I'd share. The clock tower bells are playing again right now, there's a bird singing by the window, and guys replacing the carpets in the hallway have finally, finally stopped hammering. There is everywhere the evidence of love.
A friend sent me a link to a video yesterday. It's a beautiful piece of songwriting, and the vocal harmonies are just honestly peaceful and lovely. The link is here if anyone wants it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVcRiLgRkdE
It got me thinking, but I'll cut for anyone who doesn't care.
Sometimes, when I look at the world around me, all I see is darkness. I don't mean to make some kind of cultural commentary. I'm not here to get on soapbox because I'm Christian and talk about how people who don't happen to believe what I do about Jesus should somehow be compelled to think and act like me.
I'm not going to whine about how the media glorifies violence or sex or a morality different from mine. When I look at the world, I see children who go to bed hungry. I see older brothers and sisters who had to be parents to their siblings because their own parents were too caught up in problems and addictions. I see little kids who don't have to turn on the TV to witness violence and killing. I see an old couple who spent their lives serving others, giving, helping and who now often don't have enough to live on. I see a woman who gave her life to her children and grandchildren, who spent her life working to support them, and who now sits alone because they all live far away and I guess just don't have the time to come and talk to her or call on the phone.
I see a church content to sit in its sanctuary pews on Sunday morning, sing some songs, maybe have a big emotional moment of repentance. When it's over, we feel really good and special and loved by the Lord, and we go to have coffee and talk about how right on Pastor was for a minute or two, and then we get down to business. Sometimes it's planning church events, sometimes it's the charity drive, or the missionary conference; mostly it's whose skirt was a half inch too short or who's doing something they shouldn't do or whose kids are listening to the "wrong" music or watching the "wrong" show on TV.
I'm as guilty of it as anyone. I whine about not having CDs or DVDs so I can cap them on my big expensive computer and make fanart. I have a picture of Michael Shanks over my bed. I cry over Anakin and Obi-Wan, and I complain because I don't have the money to go to fan conventions like my friends, when I know I have neighbors who probably don't have enough to eat or maybe even toilet paper in the house to use.
We wonder why people are so turned off by our mention of Jesus. We're offended. Worse than that, we're sanctimonious and arrogant. How can they not want to hear the Gospel? How can they be so "deceived"? Isn't it sad how "lost" that "those" people are. Maybe we're the ones who're lost. Oh, not our souls. Jesus took care of those at Calvary. Yet we've lost our perspective. We can't remember a time when we had faith and not religion.
The traditions of our church bodies have their place. I've learned to love the quiet dignity of Catholic Mass. The smell of incense, the unity that comes from corporate prayer and vocal response when it isn't simply rote repetition, the murmur of "Peace be with you," are things I have remembered and held with me all my life no matter what I happened to believe about God at the time. I have also learned to love the simplicity of worship in a small independent Baptist church and the unabashed and open joy of Charismatic Christianity. These are religion, and religion is a part of any human expression of faith, but religion cannot replace faith in the life of someone who follows Jesus Christ. When we allow this to happen, we become a mockery of everything he tried to teach and everything he did on that fateful Friday afternoon.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. Love your neighbor as much as you already love yourself. That is what Christianity is about. That is what Jesus said. It isn't about obligation, or how many times we go to church, or how many prayers we say, whether anyone is looking or listening or not. It isn't about the songs we sing or what we give from our paychecks. It is about loving him--not feeling guilty because he died and we don't deserve that sacrifice--but loving him for who and what he is. Feed the hungry. Clothe the poor. Comfort the sick and dying. Visit those in prison, whether it's a prison of bars or a prison of old age. Yes, we should do these things, but not because we are commanded to. We should do them in love.
The fact that I often don't makes me wonder where I am as a human being and as Christian. The fact that we don't as a church makes me profoundly sad. A friend sent me a beautiful song last night called "Evidence of Love" by the band First Call. The song was written by Bonnie Keen, and I guess when she was writing it, she was also going through a horribly ugly and painful divorce, which to me makes the lyrics all the more meaningful. Every bit of evidence the song gives is simple and down to earth and absolutely true. It made me ask myself, in the world I see around me, where is the evidence of love?
I see it in my friend Tammy who will get up on Saturday after having worked a double shift to take her grandmother grocery shopping because no one else will. I see it when she goes out at night after work to bring me a Snicker's bar because I don't have one, and I see it when I realize that we can sit in the same house for an entire day reading, not saying anything to each other and being perfectly content that this a perfect way to hang out. I feel it in the fact that we know each other so well after something like thirteen years that no matter what we say or how we feel, or whether we agree or disagree, we understand the other's point of view, and we know that we will find support and not judgment or even advice unless we want it.
I hear it in the clock tower bells outside my window. When I first moved to this city, I was farther down than I had ever been in my life. Then one afternoon, I was driving somewhere with my friend Karen. I don't even remember where or why, but I remember we stopped at Dunkin Donuts and she bought coffee or something, and we sat in the parking lot talking, when all the sudden we began to hear the music of the bells. We just stopped talking, closed our eyes and listened. It was the first hope I'd had since I left my ex-husband. Now I live where I can see the tower out my window, and I hear the bells every day.
I see it in the lights on Main Street at night, and the ducks that come up out of the river to let the kids feed them right in the middle of a city bridge because they know the cars will slow down and go around. I smell it in the aroma of the same chocolate chip cookies from Crosby's that I've gotten for the past seven years. Every time I go to the post office, I tell myself I am not going to stop at the bakery on the way home, but somehow I manage to find myself there because you just can't walk past that door and not stop in.
I also hear it in the off key singing of the guy who cleans the halls and bathrooms in the apartment building where I live. Everyone loves Jack. We know that his life is sometimes really hard, but he's always able to put on a cheerful smile and ask how we are. He wakes us up singing every morning while he cleans, and no matter what we might be going through we have to smile for a second, even on those days when we're tempted to roll our eyes and say, "Geez, does he ever stop that?" He wins us over every time. I don't know how. It's something about the Spanish accent and the words, "I've got sunshine…on a cloudy day…"
More than anything, I see it in my grandparents. There's a particular line in the song that makes me think of them, but really it's more than a simple crucifix hanging on a wall. Everything important that I know about God's love I learned by watching them. They have taught me to love patiently and without judgment, that holiness is not sanctimonious or pretentious, and has nothing to do with clothing or entertainment choices. They have shown me giving without expectation and faith that is both real and relevant.
There are other things, of course. These are the ones that come to mind for me at the moment, and I thought I'd share. The clock tower bells are playing again right now, there's a bird singing by the window, and guys replacing the carpets in the hallway have finally, finally stopped hammering. There is everywhere the evidence of love.