I enjoy mental rest stops: naps, sitting on the back steps at dusk, mellow jazz, the minutes between going to bed and falling asleep. I also enjoy mental adventures: day-dreaming, getting engrossed in a novel, planning a real adventure, when the minutes before falling asleep stretch on a while because my mind is working.
The category of mental adventure that I find the most pleasing is “the freak-out.” Some of my freak-outs are: finding something I forgot I owned, remembering an experience long forgotten and immediately re-living the feelings, having an important insight fall into place during one of those before-falling-asleep times. And suddenly I’m freaking out (def: brain explosion precipitated by extreme profundity and/or coolness and/or scariness).
Some of my favorite freak-outs are related to “time.” The following is a list of some of my time-related freak-outs. (1) We all get it at the same rate – a minute at a time, a year at a time. (2) The rich don’t get more time than the poor. (3) This minute right now is being spent by me here and now, while everyone else is spending this same minute doing their own thing in their own place. (4) Nobody gets to save up and hoard time – you use it or waste it as soon as it is doled out. (5) Nobody gets to scoot ahead of the rest of us for a preview of the future.
I usually have a time related freak-out when something big is coming up. I’m waiting, waiting, waiting…then BOOM – it’s happening RIGHT NOW – then…wow, it happened…back then. Anticipating, experiencing, and remembering. Courtesy of the inexorable passing of time.
Here is the Primeval Narrative on the topic of time: “Then the LORD said: ‘My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years’” (Gen 6:3). God says he will cap our lifespan at 120 years, which is pretty much the extreme upper limit of human life until you read Genesis 5 in which Methuselah wins the longevity award at 969 years. We ask “why would the author make up such crazy long ages?” but the ancients asked “why do we get gypped with a lousy 120 years?”
I’m with the ancients on this, especially when I remember my own primeval (“earliest years”) mindset on the human lifespan. When I was a kid, it felt like it would take 900 years to grow up. Time moved so slowly. Vacation was luxuriously long and the school year agonizingly long. It was an eternity between Christmases when I had only experienced about 8 of them. And I specifically remember calculating how old I would be in the year 2000. I’d be 42. I was sure it would take about 969 years to ever get that old.
Time flew. Wow, did it ever. And now in all likelihood I’m over half way to the grave, and I’m shouting with the ancients: “how about another couple centuries, Lord!”
I know eternity awaits. But the few years on this side of eternity are supposed to make a difference—both now and in eternity.
Time…eternity…I’m freaking out over here.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Jim's Primeval Journey: Murder
I hated Rhonda. She is the only person I’ve ever hated, but my hatred for her was simple, uncomplicated, and intense. Pure. For every day of grade seven, Rhonda was an intruder in my life, and despite occasional attempts to pray for her, the bubble always returned dead center to hatred.
Cain hated his brother Abel, and acted on it. God had regard for Abel’s offering, but did not have regard for Cain’s. We are told that Cain was very angry and “his face fell.” The narrator did not see fit to explain the problem with Cain’s offering, so I guess that’s not the point. Here’s the point: when Cain and Abel were compared, Cain came out the loser. A comparison, a loser, a fallen face, and a responsibility: do well, because sin “desires you.”
At the start of grade seven Rhonda had…bloomed; I had not. I was a good target. Every day while walking the halls, I would be loudly accosted by Rhonda. “Oh Jim, you’re such a man! I want you so much…” I was the perfect victim. Too shy to play along or to fight back, I was mortified and it showed. I assume that’s why it was so funny for everyone.
One day as “the Rhonda and Jim show” was parading toward geography class, I gave her my best hate stare, and she said “Jim, do you hate me?” I told her the truth. Another day in exasperation I blindly reached out and shoved her away with both hands. Both my hands caught her in the chest, and Rhonda shrieked! Twenty kids must have seen me do it. Simultaneous thoughts raced through my head: “So that’s what they feel like” and “come on floor, swallow me now.” Later in class, the guy sitting next to me said “Man, you turned green!”
How the Rhonda and Jim show never got old for her, I’ll never know. But the daily humiliation changed everything for me that year. A comparison, a loser, a fallen face. And…a responsibility? What—report that I’m being bullied by a girl? Not in 1970! I assume I should have done some combination of confrontation and forgiveness. But sin—hate—desired me, and it ruled.
I think person-to-person sins are just “variations on a theme by Cain.” All sins against neighbor, brother or sister bleed out of the archetype: killing. Hate is murder in the heart. I also performed kind of a killing on myself by internalizing my role: the class wuss.
Thankfully, the Rhonda and Jim show did not do a second season in grade eight. I guess she finally grew bored with me. My hatred slowly evaporated; I sort of forgave her. I like how I was shaped by my year of torment. I feel deeply for people and I try to give esteem.
In grade twelve, Rhonda and I found ourselves taking a class in which we often had to work together. We acted like grade seven never happened. That was dumb – I wish I would have told her how miserable she had made me. I wish I would have apologized for my expression of hatred. I wish I would have said “remember that time I gave you that two-handed shove?”
But I didn’t.
Cain hated his brother Abel, and acted on it. God had regard for Abel’s offering, but did not have regard for Cain’s. We are told that Cain was very angry and “his face fell.” The narrator did not see fit to explain the problem with Cain’s offering, so I guess that’s not the point. Here’s the point: when Cain and Abel were compared, Cain came out the loser. A comparison, a loser, a fallen face, and a responsibility: do well, because sin “desires you.”
At the start of grade seven Rhonda had…bloomed; I had not. I was a good target. Every day while walking the halls, I would be loudly accosted by Rhonda. “Oh Jim, you’re such a man! I want you so much…” I was the perfect victim. Too shy to play along or to fight back, I was mortified and it showed. I assume that’s why it was so funny for everyone.
One day as “the Rhonda and Jim show” was parading toward geography class, I gave her my best hate stare, and she said “Jim, do you hate me?” I told her the truth. Another day in exasperation I blindly reached out and shoved her away with both hands. Both my hands caught her in the chest, and Rhonda shrieked! Twenty kids must have seen me do it. Simultaneous thoughts raced through my head: “So that’s what they feel like” and “come on floor, swallow me now.” Later in class, the guy sitting next to me said “Man, you turned green!”
How the Rhonda and Jim show never got old for her, I’ll never know. But the daily humiliation changed everything for me that year. A comparison, a loser, a fallen face. And…a responsibility? What—report that I’m being bullied by a girl? Not in 1970! I assume I should have done some combination of confrontation and forgiveness. But sin—hate—desired me, and it ruled.
I think person-to-person sins are just “variations on a theme by Cain.” All sins against neighbor, brother or sister bleed out of the archetype: killing. Hate is murder in the heart. I also performed kind of a killing on myself by internalizing my role: the class wuss.
Thankfully, the Rhonda and Jim show did not do a second season in grade eight. I guess she finally grew bored with me. My hatred slowly evaporated; I sort of forgave her. I like how I was shaped by my year of torment. I feel deeply for people and I try to give esteem.
In grade twelve, Rhonda and I found ourselves taking a class in which we often had to work together. We acted like grade seven never happened. That was dumb – I wish I would have told her how miserable she had made me. I wish I would have apologized for my expression of hatred. I wish I would have said “remember that time I gave you that two-handed shove?”
But I didn’t.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Jim's Primeval Journey: Hiding
I’m going to tell you about my early experience of trying to hide from God. Tricky—dumb—given realities like omnipresence and omniscience. Our first parents tried hiding after their sin, when they suddenly realized they were naked (Genesis 3). They had been naked without shame until that first sin. Sin brings shame and shame brings fear, and fear brings stupid things like trying to hide from God.
There was a day in grade 10 that the Lord really laid a heavy on me. A bunch of us were attending the biggest Christian show in America – the Bill Gothard seminar had come to town. Evening #2 of the week-long event was on the topic “gaining a clear conscience.” Bill talked about a bunch of ways that a conscience can become wracked with guilt, and then he shared what the Bible teaches about asking others for forgiveness.
Here is the Holy Spirit’s message of conviction that came to me that night: “You have sinned against your brother and your mom, and I want you to ask them for forgiveness.”
It was indeed a “heavy” for me. I was remembering typical kid stuff, but sinful nonetheless. When we were little, I used my big brother status to tease Bob mercilessly. Now suddenly the tormentor was tormented with guilt over it. And toward Mom, I just realized how often I had been an irritation by being lazy…irresponsible…that kind of stuff.
Pride and fear are inseparable. My pride made me afraid to say the words of humility that Bill Gothard taught us (“I was wrong when I did __________. Will you forgive me?”) Wow.
In the years since that battle with pride, fear, and guilt, I have analyzed it from every angle. I’m aware that I have a sensitive conscience. I’m a people-pleaser, so when I hurt someone, I’m tortured over it. I also think that the spiritual battle started with healthy, constructive conviction of the Holy Spirit, but when I resisted, it became morbid, pathological guilt from Satan. But above all, I was responding to this conviction/guilt mix by using the (literally) oldest trick in the world: like Adam and Eve, I was trying to hide from God. God was asking, and I was refusing.
I refused for 4 years.
The day came when I dealt with it. Two days, actually. One day I just started saying to Bob what I needed to say. Only a couple sentences were needed to bring up the issue, acknowledge my guilt, and ask for forgiveness. He said a gracious—stunned—“yeah I forgive you.” And a week or so later, before heading off for my job at Sears, I did the same with Mom. She said “Of course I forgive you.” (She said some more, too.)
After talking to Mom, I was free. I really felt free. It was a sweet bus ride to work. That evening at Sears, I learned that Elvis had died that day. So now every August 16, when the world remembers Elvis’ death, I remember the day my pride died, and I stopped hiding from God.
There was a day in grade 10 that the Lord really laid a heavy on me. A bunch of us were attending the biggest Christian show in America – the Bill Gothard seminar had come to town. Evening #2 of the week-long event was on the topic “gaining a clear conscience.” Bill talked about a bunch of ways that a conscience can become wracked with guilt, and then he shared what the Bible teaches about asking others for forgiveness.
Here is the Holy Spirit’s message of conviction that came to me that night: “You have sinned against your brother and your mom, and I want you to ask them for forgiveness.”
It was indeed a “heavy” for me. I was remembering typical kid stuff, but sinful nonetheless. When we were little, I used my big brother status to tease Bob mercilessly. Now suddenly the tormentor was tormented with guilt over it. And toward Mom, I just realized how often I had been an irritation by being lazy…irresponsible…that kind of stuff.
Pride and fear are inseparable. My pride made me afraid to say the words of humility that Bill Gothard taught us (“I was wrong when I did __________. Will you forgive me?”) Wow.
In the years since that battle with pride, fear, and guilt, I have analyzed it from every angle. I’m aware that I have a sensitive conscience. I’m a people-pleaser, so when I hurt someone, I’m tortured over it. I also think that the spiritual battle started with healthy, constructive conviction of the Holy Spirit, but when I resisted, it became morbid, pathological guilt from Satan. But above all, I was responding to this conviction/guilt mix by using the (literally) oldest trick in the world: like Adam and Eve, I was trying to hide from God. God was asking, and I was refusing.
I refused for 4 years.
The day came when I dealt with it. Two days, actually. One day I just started saying to Bob what I needed to say. Only a couple sentences were needed to bring up the issue, acknowledge my guilt, and ask for forgiveness. He said a gracious—stunned—“yeah I forgive you.” And a week or so later, before heading off for my job at Sears, I did the same with Mom. She said “Of course I forgive you.” (She said some more, too.)
After talking to Mom, I was free. I really felt free. It was a sweet bus ride to work. That evening at Sears, I learned that Elvis had died that day. So now every August 16, when the world remembers Elvis’ death, I remember the day my pride died, and I stopped hiding from God.
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