I’ve been thinking…

Practicing resurrection.

Wendell Berry, if you are not familiar with his work, is known for discussing and practicing environmental care and cultural criticism. He largely criticizes societal breakdown in a post industrial-revolutionized world. Berry is also know for writing Sabbath poems every Sunday. I read a poem of his recently titled “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.” In no direct relation to the title, Berry freely versifies the society’s robotic rhythm and our part in it:

“Want more of everything ready-made. Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die. And you will have a window in your head. Not even your future will be a mystery any more. Your mind will be punched in a card and shut away in a little drawer.”

Following this, he gives examples of living contrary to automation. Instead of autopilot lives, swept up in the false fix of convenience, he offers contrary examples of active living. Here are some chosen excerpts:

“So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute. Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it ….Praise ignorance, for what man has not encountered he has not destroyed. Ask the questions that have no answers ….Expect the end of the world. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”

He continues with unique ways of saying the same, ending the entire composition with “practice resurrection.” I thought that final statement was simple and profound. What does it look like and mean to “practice resurrection,” and why do we believers not speak of this more often?

Well, after reading the Biblical account of the resurrection this Easter with some friends, I opted to read Berry’s poem aloud. I did this because as we sat around reflecting popcorn-style on the Biblical passage and its meaning/application, I figured it would be helpful to ponder how we might “practice resurrection” in our lives.

His resurrection, in my opinion, deserves the most emphasis when we talk about the Gospel. This is where death was defeated, and life everlasting became a human reality. This is where a journey began of empowering humans toward Godly action on Earth by the power of the Holy Spirit, in order for us to usher in the Kingdom of God on earth.

If we follow Jesus, we certainly do not find fun and convenience. There is a necessary and holy discomfort for us in the truth of the gospel. we will find ourselves extremely inconvenienced by truth, conviction, and ensuing growth. Discipleship is hard, which is maybe why we don’t practice it in fullness in most modern churches. But what does discipleship do? It fosters new life, a life brought from death, a new way of living according to true life in contrast to the world’s version. discipleship is a practice of resurrection.

As I interpret Berry’s statement and seek to peel it open for all its practical meaning, practicing resurrection looks like living actively and intentionally despite the temptation to flow in the motion of a world of distraction and autopilot. If we pay attention to what exists around us, notice the world as it moves by, and rest in the God-given shade of the natural beauty we so often neglectfully leave for social feeds and Netflix documentaries, we can’t help but foster life. If we take part in our neighborhood, garden and till the dirt of life, growing things with our hands despite the tediousness, we will be practicing resurrection. We will also be accidental contrarians to our modern world.

If we realize, in opposition to what is purported, that distraction and convenience are not solutions and are not the highest goods, though most of our money goes to these commodities, we will be free to live in the joy of creating things that last. There is no such thing as instant joy, life, or growth. These are inconvenient things to foster, but they are worth it. I once heard a pastor say something like, “the purest form of love is when we meet another’s greatest need at our own great expense.”

Practice resurrection.

“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” – Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “The Gulag Archipelago”

I’ve been thinking about this quote. “If only it were all so simple,” as the quote states; if only labels could be permanently set and we never had to hold ourselves to a standard. But we humans are complex beings, capable of both good and evil, no matter who we are.

No one is really absolutely evil or completely good on their own. Typically, upon closer examination, people act mostly within the bounds of their influence. The Stanford Prison Experiment is a great example of this. Sometimes it’s convenient to simplify humanity when we want to distance ourselves from the idea we could be terrible given a different upbringing or set of influences, but it’s important for us to take a deeper look into what life choices and factors may lead individuals like ourselves into doing undesirable things, lest we blind ourselves to our own capacity for evil. In order to take initiative and ownership of our lives, and in order to repent and find freedom, we must be aware and take responsibility for our potential for darkness as well as light. It’s like Anakin/Darth Vader, one of the most iconic villains ever, who is always described as having potential to turn back to the light. Or Cal in “East of Eden,” who is constantly wrestling with an inherited inner darkness, a generational curse, looking to triumph over it.

“Then the LORD said to Cain, ‘Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it.’” — Genesis 4:6-7

“But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—'Thou mayest'— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man.” … “And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” — John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“For a righteous man falls seven times, and rises again, But the wicked stumble in time of disaster and collapse.” — Proverbs 24:16

What makes a man righteous or good is not perfection, but the humility and conviction to rise again after every failure; admission of faults, confession of wrongdoing, vulnerable exposure of weakness, and the choice to improve through it all. So hike upward, toward the light friends, though it may take all we have and every day brings opposition, the view from the top will be invigorating.

On the first day of a brand new August, I’ve been thinking this morning about the Hebrew word “Ahava.” It is the most common word for love in the Old Testament, and unlike how our present age might often communicate love as a feeling, concept, or idea, “Ahava” is love because it is inseparable from action and obedience. To “love” according to this word, and according to the God who uses it, is to give to and take action toward something. We can see that God makes covenant with Israel in the scriptures, and when He does, He uses “Ahava.”

“Berit (Hebrew)”: this relationship between a deity and people was unlike any ever known. Most ancient gods are said to be the “cultural furniture” or reflection of the people in their context, like the Greek gods who were the epitome of humanity in that day and age. Most gods were also takers rather than givers and bore very human vices, being a “bottom-up” construction or projection of humanity. But the Hebrew God was a “top-down” origination, quite starkly unlike the humans who followed Him. The Hebrew God was not a reflection of human “perfection” but actually in contrast to what was considered good and perfect to humans, exhibiting and beckoning a higher standard. This God was a giver, reaching out and calling humanity to Himself as much as and before humanity ever called upon Him. The Hebrew God, YHWH, offered a covenant relationship.

When God gave Himself in covenant, it was not conceptual. It was an action which was performed and executed in real time for Abraham and his descendants (Israel) and now unto all people. When God created covenant, it was outside of His nature to fail or go back on it, and henceforth He only improved upon it forevermore unto our present salvation. I believe that when He first promised salvation for Israel, He saw us, all humanity, in the same moment and therefore promised it for everyone. God is within and outside of our sense of time, and when He establishes something, it is not bound by our linear sense of past, present, or future, and it does not decay on that timeline like we do. I believe that God is Now, ever-present, and His covenant is too.

So today, I ponder that love. I consider how powerful is the “Ahava” of God. His “love” is always tied into action and covenant, and it is outside of His nature to go back on it. It is not a feeling or concept; it is a very real, tangible, and ultra-practical “love.” His promises are not static and stuck, they are now, which means that He is presently with us, as His covenant is ultimately found manifest in Jesus. He is not the God who provided, will provide, or sometimes provides, He is providing right now. He is not ancient, He is Now, and His love is happening and unchanging. He is the God who is doing what He promised and calling forth my offering of trust in His capacity to “Ahava” me; to provide and do what he says He is.

I had a great conversation yesterday, and it’s a conversation I’ve been having in different forms recently. The theme, the motto, the “gist” of our conversation was that it takes courage to pursue a dream, calling, or passion.

It takes courage to follow what you believe God is calling you to do — whether it is the courage to face the unknown of the timeline, have necessary conversations with people you don’t know, take risks of potential rejection or failure, or be patient in times of waiting — your calling requires courage.

It takes courage to follow the calling a Christian life. Believing in Jesus Christ as Messiah is to follow Him, and that is a high calling because it beckons a lowly position. It is against the world’s wide stream of egocentricity. Whether you’re a CEO in a glass office 10 stories up, or a janitor with a 4 a.m. shift, believing in Jesus Christ as Messiah will cause you to reflect His posture of humility. It’s a high calling, and it takes courage to defy the odds, to dance where you are, rain or shine, because that’s where God has you, and because a life freely given is a joyous one.

God gives gifts, and God made us creatively as His very imprint. We are creative, we are reasonable, we are carriers of things beyond ourselves. The story of the talents in Matthew is a great picture of the all-or-nothing approach we are encouraged to take in the Gospel, where the men who invested the master’s talents were blessed, but he who yielded to the fear of losing the talents was scrutinized and received nothing. I quote Will Smith, of all people, when I say that “God placed the best things in life on the other side of fear.” And to quote my best friend, “God wants to bless us…He wants to give us good things.” But what does this require of us?

Jordan Peterson, a famed Psychologist and professor at the University of Toronto, provides a captivating psychoanalytic criticism of the Exodus story in the Old Testament. He sets the scene where the Israelites have left Egypt, but just like anyone coming out of a slavery or a traumatic experience, are in a desert rather than an immediate promised land. They are reeling from their lived experience. They are trying to regain their identity, all while struggling with trust in God to