Awkwardly Amazed

Every time I hike with a friend of mine through the mountains of Armenia around my village I am completely overwhelmed by their beauty.

The rock formations, the rivers, the variety of plant and animal life – It all amazes me.

Often, however, when I try to take in the beauty of something like this I feel this awkward tension, like I'm scared I won't fully appreciate the moment and it'll pass before I can ever retain it.  I've experienced this my whole life, anytime I look at the stars, the ocean, or any other natural wonder.  I can't really explain this feeling without putting it into poetry:

Ocean, Stars, and God

Partially seeing, never grasping

Too great to consume

Leaving me empty

– Not quite empty –

Trust in acceptance

That what it is can not be mine

But belongs to all life

Because it is all life

Urge from the heart

To know it better, deeper

Ultimate connection, uninhibited intimacy

Stopped by fear

Caged freedom

Never knowing, having always known

Sink into it

Let it overcome

Sit inside the next moment

And be still. 

Because this uncanny tension arises from awe and wonder, I'll embrace it.  This process of turning something mysterious or difficult to understand into poetry mirrors the process of turning grapes into wine.  If we lean in and listen to what each challenge tries to teach us, we find meaning even in struggle.  This week I'm challenged to make poetry of every trial.

Weekly Grape:  Am I amazed by all that surrounds me?

No Confidence in the Flesh

It's been 3 seconds.  I demand
my sugar cracker.

When my puppy Mia pees outside, she expects a treat. She will not move until she gets one. The treat is the fuel that drives her back indoors to continue her business of tearing apart everything I own with her little puppy daggers. 

I know where her confidence lies. If, God forbid, I should forget to give her a treat immediately post-urination, for example, her confidence would be shaken and she would no longer remember who she is or how to get back inside. This kind of confidence is dangerous – it’s the confidence that we get from what the world has to offer. What happens, for example, if all the treats in the world were to disappear? 

Well Mia would just be a barking mess. 

Everytime I put my confidence in the world I am disappointed, because whatever we put our confidence in will eventually be taken away. An olympic gold medalist will always be beaten by another super-human athlete over time, just as Mia’s treats will eventually shift from slightly sugared crackers to plain old boring crackers. How can we put our confidence in something that lasts?

Lately I’ve struggled with some serious opposition at work. But Jesus reminds me that during his years of ministry, his life was certainly no care-free string of pleasant days interrupted by rare occurances of trial and suffering. No, Jesus was an island surrounded by a furious river of persecution, aggression, and resentment that even when flooded never altered its form. 

Yet his joy was complete.

In the Bible, Jesus urges us to “take heart” – to find comfort in and be encouraged by – the fact that he has overcome the world (John 16:33). Through Paul, one of His followers, He also beseeches us to “do everything without complaining or arguing (Phillipians 3:14), and to put no confidence in the flesh (Phil 3:2-3). 

Some days I can’t even get out of bed before violating that command. 

But in times of fierce opposition I need to position myself toward Christ and rejoice in trial because I have promised to join Him in his fellowship of suffering, not in his fellowship of taking the easy road out.

Maybe if Mia knew Jesus she’d be dissatisfied with her sugary treats and long for something more. Maybe she does know Jesus but still enjoys a tasty snack after defecating on my lawn. Who knows.

Weekly Grape: Where do I get my confidence from?