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Posted by admin on June 9th, 2005

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Attics & Temples

Posted by admin on May 7th, 2005

Attics & Temples
by Rich Mullins

My new apartment is in the attic of Jim and Megan’s house. It’s a big old one-roomer with a mind of its own - a cacophony of lines that occur at approximately 45 to 90 degree angles, with floors that sort of redefine “level.” This attic has it’s own idea of what “square” means; its studs have their own interpretation of the classic 24 inch center. Its walls are loosely vertical and the whole thing is about two weeks away from being much more than a lot of potential. Right now it is resistant to change - openly hostile to my ideas of what it ought to be. But slowly, surely, occasionally even patiently I am (with the help of some friends, a hammer, a saw, some nails and a wrecking bar) enlightening it, changing its self-concept, convincing it that it is not merely an ugly, old attic - it is a great space that I would like to inhabit and be on friendly terms with - a space full of promise and beauty and order and life.

I suspect that it wants to cooperate, but it’s hard and I must be patient. Whoever it was that shaped the attic before me did so with some pretty big nails, deep cuts, hard hammers and rough saws. They considered the attic to be wasted space, storage space - a distance between the roof and the ceiling - a buffer zone and not much else. Someone else came along and closed it in for a smoking room; a place for those ignoble activities that would be inappropriate in the “house proper.” They slopped the walls with cheap, nasty paneling and put in a bathroom, covered the floors with ugly carpet and stunk it up with a tobacco habit.

Sometimes in the heat of the toil of my labor I give in to fits of selfish rage - frustration more over my lack of skill than over my apartment’s progress. But late at night when I look over the piles of dust and dry wall and knee-deep debris that remain during this reconstructive effort, I am strangely moved by the place and I proclaim the gospel to it softly. I say, “I know how it hurts to be torn up. I am often choked on the litter left by my own remodeling. I know what it’s like to settle (by the grave act of a strong will) into the despair of believing that you are wasted space. I have felt the blows of heavy hammers that nailed me to a sense of uselessness. I have been shaped by some pretty careless workers who came to the task of making me and lacked any craftsmanship or artistry. I know the pain of wanting to be changed and yet being distrustful of changes, of wanting to be worked on, but being suspicious of the intentions of the Worker. But here is some good news: He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. However messy it may be now, however confusing and scary it appears, however endless the task may seem, we will some day be glorious, beautiful, alive! There is much tearing out to do - a lot to give up. No thin coat of new paint, no shallow, petty piety will do. It’s not good enough to cover up imperfection, it must be corrected. Art, beauty, function - these things take time. They may take till the day of Christ Jesus.”

But we are not wasted space, we are temples of a Being greater than ourselves, temples being built to be inhabited and brought to life. Though we may not understand the process, our Rebuilder does. We are His workmanship and the place where He lives.

Little attic, do not despair! I’m being made by a Master Carpenter. I’m learning a little about building too.

Text copyright Release Magazine, Fall 1993

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heather (random Q&A)

Posted by admin on January 30th, 2005

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faith and works, body and spirit

Posted by admin on January 28th, 2005

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How do we "know" God?

Posted by admin on January 25th, 2005

(My girlfriend and I were talking last night about some theological ideas, and I was glad to hear her thoughts. I think these kind of talks are a part of how “iron sharpens iron,” and how, in love, deep relationships are founded. I was thinking this morning about our conversation, and it brought me joy to remember how upset and vigilant she was in defending the character of the God.)

I sometimes fall into the trap of being too cerebral – of thinking of God not as a father, groom and friend – but as an intellectual problem to be solved. As if God can be explained or known without the context of intimate relationship… may it never be.

It made me think that perhaps another repercussion of our cultural obsession with celebrities (athletes, movie stars, politicians, scientists, historical figures, Whoever…) and our glut of information is that we practice the idea that we can get to “know” people from afar by knowing facts and stories about them. How many people who have never met Elvis would say they “know” Elvis; or Oprah; or Brad Pitt; or Barry Switzer; or Abraham Lincoln? I feel like I “know” Rich Mullins, but I never had a conversation with him; I know him only second-hand, from a distance. The tandem factor in this equation is that in many cases, I think we might be reluctant to meet our heroes/idols because we fear they would not live up to our knowledge of them. We live in a culture trained to voyeur into the lives of people from afar, assured/assuaged with the idea that we are better off not knowing them personally; that we cannot know them personally. The lethal danger comes when we apply this view of celebrity to our understanding of God… this transference is a steep and slippery slope, and an easy fall to make.

We have at hand so much information (testimony, speculation, anecdotal evidence, rationalization) about God – about his character, about how we should perceive God, about how we should think rightly of Him, about how He thinks of us – that we run the risk of forgetting that we need to know Him. It is impossible to know God from a distance, just like it is impossible to know Elvis or Oprah or Switzer from a distance. To know a person, we must spend time with them. No amount of study can replace the value of ‘hanging out’ with someone. Especially when you reach the point at which you are comfortable enough to be yourself. Because we should not make the mistake of thinking that relationship can exist in a vacuum, or the mistake that all time counts the same.

Perhaps this is where our knowledge and experience in human relationships can help us, if we let it. Almost everyone knows someone they once held in awe or knew by reputation from a distance – someone whom they now know face-to-face. And there always exists the gradual “getting to know” someone, a process where the distance gradually lessened; where first-hand knowledge and closeness overwhelmed the initial gulf of awkwardness and trepidation.

As we get to know someone, some types of time are far more valuable than others. There are people whom we see and interact with every day that we would never claim to “know,” because we haven’t shared life together—we haven’t been honest and vulnerable with one another, and haven’t faced and shared together in hardship and in plenty. There are other people we “know” very well, even though we have spent very little time with them; people who may have walked with us through tough parts of life; and/or people who were transparent with their own lives, who inspired us to be transparent in return.

The phrases “falling in love,” and “loving your neighbor (the golden rule),” evoke a visible response in most spheres of our society, though few people seem to know what either of these statements really mean. The foundation of love (discussed in other places, so I won’t go into depth here) is relationship which comes out of a deep two-way knowledge with another person. And this is why “God is love,” – because he and he alone knows us intimately; and this is why we have to “love our neighbor” with God’s love, because we may not know our neighbor, but God does. If there is no love without knowledge, then this is why – even in the context of “falling in love” – we must rely on God’s love and not our own pale shadows of love, because God knows people deeper than we ever will. To love fully and deeply requires perfect knowledge, found only in God. This is why it is possible to love our neighbor to the same depth with which we love God, or love our parents, or love our spouse – because the love we are relying on is rooted in God’s perfect knowledge of each one of his children.

Coming back to where this tangent started: I rejoice to be dating someone who knows and loves God, and that something in her rises up in protest when – by accident or miscommunication – I write/say something that contradicts the God she knows through relationship. (This is the same emotion seen in Christ when he overturned the tables of the temple shopkeepers and moneychangers who were defaming the image of his father.)

It was her sincerity, more than anything else, that is making me realize how far I am from where I once was – and from where I desire to be again. I know that something in my mind would rise up in violence (in thought if not in deed) against anyone who defamed my girlfriend, or my family or any of my close friends. Yet I readily tolerate people defaming Christ. I remember the sense of horror and dread that rose in my heart on a daily basis when, in sixth grade, I first had to spend time in an environment rife with people who took God’s name in vain. I would pray as Christ prayed: “forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.” But sitting here 15 years later, I find that my righteous fury has decayed into mild annoyance, and that Reason has supplanted Experience as my primary means of relating to God.

There is a famous quote (I can’t remember the source) that says “a man with an experience is never at the mercy of a man with an argument.” And we see evidence – with cults, causes, movements, etc… – that people respond to personal experiences far more than they respond to logic. We are not wired to let cold reason freeze our hearts against the red-hot coals of personal story; yet somehow, if the cold ever sets in, it can be hard to get a fire started in that tundra soul; hard for the spring thaw ever to begin.

It makes me think of C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, where Narnia has suffered under the White Witch, who has made it “always winter and never Christmas.” Nothing the Narnians can do in their own strength is ever able to bring the spring. But when Aslan shows up, spring comes with him; flowers blossom in his footsteps; and no amount of reason, no lie or carefully constructed argument, can compare to the awe and wonder of looking full into his face, feeling his hot, moist breath upon your cheek.

So I am more thankful than ever to know people whose lives are sincere and consistent testimonies of their relationship with Christ. My prayer – for myself, for us all – is that we be so near to Christ we feel his breath. So near that His presence thaws every icicle and puddles every snowflake, chasing the winter from our souls.

Celexa Phentermine

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Attics & Temples

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How do we "know" God?

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