Games

At this coffee shop/church in Indiana I like to hang out in, there are some kids who like to run around playing some game that I don't understand.  It mainly involves hiding behind a couch and running up and down the stairs.  The reason I don't understand it is because the whole game is a series of unspoken and partially understood rules.  Maybe to them, the game doesn't even exist at all.  To them, maybe they're just living the life; running around just because they can.

Alfred Adler is the most under appreciated genius of the world of therapy.  Freud may be the father of psychotherapy, but Adler's theory helped pave the way for every modern psychotherapy after its advent.  Seriously, read up on Adler.  One of Adler's ideas was that people play "games" that they use to get through life.  What this means is that as people go on, they come up with conditions for "winning" and conditions for "losing."  

"If I could get that job my life would be good."

"If I was skinnier I'd be pretty."

"If I say that, this guy will think I'm crazy."

The thing about these games is that if you lose, you've defeated yourself, and if you win you've set yourself up to be defeated later.  That's why Adler said that when clients seek therapy, the therapist must get them to play the "therapy game," which tries to give back what clients have taken from themselves.  Because when you compete with yourself, even if you win you still lose.

In the book of Luke, Jesus sat in on a dinner party for some big shot religious people.  It was a pretty big deal to sit as close as you could to the head of the table; it meant that you were important; that you were someone.  Everyone wanted those seats because if you got one then you were a winner.  But Jesus said to the host, "When you have a dinner party, put those who can't repay you in the best seats, that way you'll be repaid in the resurrection."  When you pass up the good seat, it'll be given to you later.

The problem with the games we play is that when we lose, it only makes us want to win next time.  But when we win these games, nothing is gained.  The whole game is invalid.  But what if, instead of winning, the victory was given to you?  Then the games we play wouldn't cause us anxiety.  They would only bring us life.

There's something holy about a kid who's hiding behind a couch, playing a game that only he can understand.  He's not trying to win.  He's only playing because that's the way he's making sense of his life right then.  He's lost in laughter and anticipation of the kid who's coming up the steps.  I don't know how the game is played, but it doesn't matter.  Win or lose, there is only joy. 

The Story Life

When you think of who you are, what do you think of?

To answer that question, you have to do a few things.  First, you have to think.  This may seem obvious, but it's important to know that each time you establish your own identity, you (and not anyone else) have to come to these conclusions yourself.  Next, you have to bring to mind certain personality traits like; "I'm kind," "I'm generous," or "I'm lazy."

What's tricky about this is that behind each of those personality traits is a story.  It's impossible for someone to just derive from nothing that they are kind or generous or lazy.  We get these ideas from somewhere, and that somewhere is our experience in life.  Essentially, the only reason I know that I'm Matt Culler is because that fact has been reinforced over and over and over and over, etc.  Your life is a story about what you know to be true about you.

If this is true, then we run the risk of problems in our lives when we misunderstand the truth.  Say I've gone for a long time getting A's in all of my classes, but at one point I take a class and fail it.  I see this and feel bad, but understand that this failure is not an intrinsic part of my identity; it's more of the exception than the rule.  But I start telling my friends that I failed a class.  And some other friends see that I got an F, not knowing that I was an A student before.  And my parents start holding that F over my head.  And throughout all this time, it is never mentioned that i got A's in all of my other classes.  Suddenly I care more about that F than those A's; suddenly my idea of myself is that I'm a failure.  Knowing that I am a failure, I start acting like a failure, because that's all I know to be true.  

This happens to us everyday.  Parts of who we are are reinforced by others and ourselves, while other parts of who we are get ignored and eventually forgotten.  If you start saying that you're sick, acting like you're sick, and telling people that you're sick, it's likely that people are going to start treating you like a sick person. 

The important question here is who does God think that you are?  Does this factor into your story at all?  Maybe it does, but the person you think God sees you as is pretty terrible.  Maybe you think God's ashamed of you.  But what if the person who's ashamed of you is you?  What if the idea of yourself as terrible has come from a source other than God?  What if your story life got hijacked midway through?

When you come to conclusions about who you are, whether negative or positive, you're right.  You're constantly constructing this story about you.  While we include information in this story from a bunch of different sources, who you are is up to you in the end.

When you think of who you are, what do you think of?

Making Way

Love creates space.  Love makes way.

A very long time ago God gave the people of Israel Ten Words to follow that they would be set apart from the rest of the world.  They would show that love had created a space for people.  That's what restoration is.  It is people and God occupying the same space.  God has shown Israel and us that in the space He has created, there is pattern to the flow of life.  It was beautiful, but the greatest Word which was given was to Love the Lord God.  Make way for God to make way.  This Word was important because it bound the other Words together. God created and gave for us first, so our response is to let Him continue.  Make space for God to make way.  Righteousness, or justice before God comes when we have the space to receive it from Him.

As I've studied helping skills in the past couple of years, one of the reoccurring trends in practice is the art of submission.  Submission is necessary for counseling on many levels, but here's an example.  Problem solving in client-centered therapy is all about having the client develop a plan which will create positive change in their life.  While the client is to build their plan with as much autonomy as possible, the worker is present with the client in order to gently guide them toward a line of thinking which will begin to break the person away from their current destructive behaviors.  In this exchange, both the client and the worker must submit and create space for the other to bring life.  If one side is dominating, the session will degrade into something less than what it is supposed to be.

Love requires submission because love is not selfish.  Love creates space for another to act.  It is the forfeit of one will for another.  We submit to God to create space for Him, and He, in turn, submits to us to create space for us.  Jesus Himself claimed to be the Way, creating the ultimate space for humanity by submitting Himself to death.  But there's more.

God would also give Israel the command to love the people around them.  Life has always flown through God's created space by people creating ways for that life to flow freely.  Jesus would later tell all those who follow Him to adhere to this command today.  Why, when so often we are right?  So often we desire liberty from those who are wrong.  So often the easiest way to deal with something we disagree with is to destroy it. But this is not what we are called to.  We are called to submit to each other in love.  The question then becomes, what will happen if I create space for someone else?  What if they abuse it?  What if they don't know what they're doing?  What if I don't let my voice be heard?

Making a way for someone else will never be easy because no two people are the same.  But God promises that those who submit will inherit the earth.  It's funny that it is through the resignation of our own will, and not through the forceful propagation of it, that we inherit the earth.  Plans in counseling are built by two people who accept each other for who they are and take a risk by collaboratively making way.  The Kingdom Of God is the same.

The End of the Story Part IV

The resurrection is everything.  It's the end of endings.

The Apostle Paul was a big shot before he was blinded on the road to Damascus; when Paul was still Saul.  He writes to the Philippians that he was a pure blooded Israelite, born to the tribe of Benjamin, circumcised on the eighth day, a well trained religious scholar, and had a zeal for righteousness which came from the law.  People respected Saul.

However, in another letter, Paul writes that "his physical presence is weak, and his public speaking is despicable."  Or at least that's what other people were saying about him.  How could a guy who was Pharisee number one; who was constantly taking people to court to kill them; who had one of the best pedigrees in the world be called weak and despicable?

What happened?

The main reason I decided to follow Jesus as closely as I possibly could was hope.  Jesus offered me hope that things were going to be made right and that God would not stand for injustice.  The prophecies in the book of Isaiah, some of which state that the hills will be made low and the valleys will be raised, say to me that if there is inequity, poverty, suffering; it just can't last forever.

Something you should understand about me is that I am naturally skilled at almost nothing.  Some people scoff at me when they hear this, but I have proven it over and over.  I've already commented on my inability to understand math, but my lack of skill extends into areas such as social perception, general physical coordination, and most recently sailing.  I don't intend to turn this blog post into a self depreciating joke fest, but I share these shortcomings with you to demonstrate the reason for my hopefulness.

Later in Paul's letter where he refers to himself as weak and a despicable speaker, he says that there is nothing to boast in unless it is in Christ alone.  In fact, says Paul, he would rather be weak because in his weakness, Christ's power is perfected.  Of course, you already see where I am going with this; because I am weak in many areas, Christ has more opportunities to be glorified in my life.  This is true.  But there is more to it than that.

Because the resurrection is limitlessly deep, the hope we have in Christ should be limitless as well.  Because it's obvious that even the most skilled people have a limit to their skills.  Their skill has an end.  But with God the end of the story isn't really the end.  And so you see people doing things that shouldn't be "possible" on earth.  Blindness being healed.  Limbs growing out.  Diseases being slapped out of people's bodies.  All endings to which Jesus said "there's more."  Because of the resurrection, all sorts of death can not stand.

The only things that are forever are God and His Kingdom.  Paul knew this.  That's why he was gladly imprisoned, beaten, stoned, shipwrecked, subjected to robbers, hungry, thirsty, and naked.  Because "to live is Christ and to die is gain."  Because the end of the story is not the end with God.  That's also why Paul's sweaty work clothes and handkerchiefs healed people of diseases.

In all things, God is saying the story is not over.  The question is; do we agree?  If we do then it's time to get busy because there is a movement happening where everything is being restored.  The most definitive endings to people's stories are the most surprising beginnings.  The people who live in the most death are experiencing the greatest resurrections.  Those who are foolish are already leading the wise.  The meek are inheriting the earth, the weak are turning out to be the strongest, and the whole world is coming face to face with the idea that to be a winner you actually have to be a loser.

Jesus is standing at the beginning of it all, ready to run with us.  And that's the end of that.

The End of the Story Part III

For every ending we impose, Jesus says "there's more." So when you think it's over, look again, because it has in fact just begun.

You may be wondering why I've convoluted and drawn out a single subject to the point of, now, three separate blog posts. Allow me to break the fourth wall of blogging for a moment. As Christians, it is of central importance that we look at all Scripture through the lens of resurrection and new beginnings. If we look at Scripture and view Yahweh as a God who ends anything, we are creating God in our own image. Because we are the ones who have endings wrapped up in our very nature. Not God. And when we make God in our own image, we have full permission to boss Him around and support just about anything we want Him to.

So we have arrived at a point in which we can look at Scripture in two different ways. A disjointed set of rules and suggestions which serve as the basis of a selfish morality, or as a sweeping narrative that spills over the pages and seeps into our lives. The Apostle Paul actually covers this in his letters to the churches. He tells us that this difference is really the difference between the law and the Spirit. The law leads only death because it points only to our own accomplishments. And that right there is an ending. We do all that we can to highlight our own stuff. The Bible says pretty clearly that if "our stuff" is good that it comes from God anyway, and if it's bad than it's sin, which has already been defeated. So much for that. Living life in the Spirit over the law, however, lets our lives point to the eternal, or a lack of endings.

What Paul is saying is if you want to align your life to an ending, feel free. God's love is big enough to allow that. But with the Spirit, the end of the story isn't really the end.

From the perspective of early Christians, the resurrection of Jesus Christ was an event that meant everything changed. For them, this was the age old promise of their God being fulfilled. The resurrection was everything. So, of course, this meant that everything had to change. Paul's letters are the best example we have of the early Church wrestling with the concept of being resurrection people. For a long, long time, that's what the story has been.

A good example of this is Paul's exposition to the Corinthian church about giving monetarily. In it, Paul commends the church for giving abundantly, and also states that God loves a cheerful giver. This is the same God who makes grace overflow so that all needs are met.

Do you see the resurrection? The Corinthian church is able to give out of poverty because they know that God does not end and they are the people of this God. Paul says it. Whatever is given will be restored to the point of overflow. That's a characteristic of grace. Resurrection. For Paul and the Corinthians this is more than just a good idea that promotes morality. This is part of the embodiment of the resurrection movement which pulses through nature and is emblematic of Yahweh.

There's more to money than just money.

Even Jesus before He is crucified speaks to people about all kinds of resurrection. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus tells His disciples that whoever gives up their family or possessions to follow Him will have them restored 100 times over. Because the resurrection is that deep. Because Jesus says "there's more."

The resurrection is everything. It is the end of endings. For everything. The early church grappled with this. They absolutely struggled with how to align with the restoration movement of God in every aspect of life.

Do we grapple with this? Do we see the resurrection in everything? Or do we impose endings where they just don't belong. Because the thing about the early Church is that it was early. There's more to that story.

Once again, things were only just beginning.

The End of the Story Part II

Jesus raised a man who was wrapped head to toe in death.  Of course, that was only the beginning.

I am terrible at Math.  My brain just doesn't work in calculations and formulas.  Thank goodness there are people who are good at math and can compute things in their heads.  Because I can't.  

In fourth grade, there were two math classes.  Everyone knew what it meant if you were in room 7.  It meant that you sucked at math.  Room 7 was a place characterized by sorrow, failure, and a terrible view of the white brick building next door.  Room 4, however, was a place of infinite glee where young fourth graders ate cupcakes, solved math problems with ease, and generally relished in the knowledge that they would eventually become the great engineers of the age to come.  The view from room 4 was of the playground and the sweeping fields of Scotland, Pennsylvania.  Room 4 was where you wanted to be.

One particularly terrible day in room 7, I was taking a particularly terrible test.  When you failed a test at Scotland, you had to have your parents sign it; probably so that they could start planning early for what they believed to be their child's downward spiral into oblivion.  Needless to say, I had to have a few of these math tests signed; so many in fact that my parents had  forewarned me that one more of these signatures would result in what I interpreted to be my certain annihilation.

So I sat in room 7, taking my test on fractions; my future hanging in the balance.

By one point, I got a D.  I proudly stood before my parents, exclaiming brightly that I had not failed the test.  My joy was cut short by my parents swiftly observing that the teacher had graded the test incorrectly.  He had forgotten to mark an incorrect answer.  I had failed the test after all.

I tell this story for one reason, really.  For the ending.  The ending you read in the paragraph above shows you only a single perspective.  And perspective has everything to do with endings.

In a different time and a different place, the man who had restored other people from death back to life was dead Himself.  He had been crucified; killed between two thieves.  For some, everything was riding on Jesus.  Their hopes, dreams, and livelihoods.  But now those dreams were dead along with the man who inspired them.  This was probably the perspective of many to all of the disciples of Jesus Christ at the time of His death.  

And you could end the story there.  But for those of us who are Christians, we believe that the end of that story is not the end.

Because three days later Jesus was walking around and talking to people.  He was also walking through walls (but that's another story).  Along with Christ, the first Easter resurrected the hopes and dreams of those who followed Christ then and now.  Because we believe that Jesus beat death forever.  On Easter Sunday, this is the story we get.  Then church is over.

But the story doesn't end there.  Most of us know that.  Lots of amazing things happen after Christ is resurrected.  In fact, twenty-three books of the Bible full of pictures of the interaction of early Christians with Jesus and each other happen after the resurrection part of the story.

But the story doesn't end with the Bible.  Maybe you knew I was going to say that.  

The story earlier ended with my failure because that's where I ended it.  But the story didn't really end there.  If you read the last entry, you would have noticed that I graduated from college.  Obviously, fourth grade math couldn't hold me down forever.  But from our perspective, we impose endings all the time in order to categorize and understand information.  Humans have trouble with the infinite.

In our lives, relationships, and even our theology we impose all sorts of endings for all sorts of reasons.  Control.  Addiction.  Brokenness.  Confusion.  Endings are a result of sin, and sin is death.  Death is an ending.  But Jesus beat that.  And the divine reversal began.  

For every ending we impose, Jesus says "there's more."

For every person we say we're done with.  There's more.  For every tree that withers.  There's more.  For every heart that remains unfulfilled.  There's more.  Because I passed fourth grade math.  Because every cell that dies is replaced.  Because Jesus didn't stay dead.  Because even though our perspective suggests that the story has ended, there is always more.

This is why Jesus must be at the heart of the Gospel.  Jesus is the incarnate pinnacle of a redemptive movement that courses through our very molecules.  So when you think it's over, look again, because it has in fact just begun.

Maybe you know that next I am going to say that this is just the beginning too.

The End of the Story

Recently, I graduated from college.  In many ways, it was an ending.  It was the end of a four year long learning and social engagement.  It was the end of my day to day relationships with many people.  It was the end of my life in a place.  From Shippensburg and its University, I have been dynamically severed and cut off.

That sounds terribly sad, doesn't it?  There are ways I have previously connected with Shippensburg and its people which I will never again be able to do.  That part of my life has come to an end.  That story seems to be over.

In a different time and a different place, a man named Lazarus is dead.  Jesus stands just outside the tomb where Lazarus was lain, weeping.  This is the same Jesus who, three days ago, said that the sickness in Lazarus' body would not end in death.  But life in the body of Lazarus is nil.  That story seems to be over.

Those who are around have varying reactions to the tension created by the presence of death and Jesus in the same location.  Many in the crowd stand confused, thinking that if this is the same Jesus who opened the eyes of the blind then surely He could have healed the sickness of a man whom He called friend.

But another bystander in the crowd, Martha, holds in her heart a strange sensation of hope.  For just a bit ago, Jesus had approached her and had Himself claimed to be "the Resurrection and the Life."  She believed this but did not fully understand it, as she couldn't quite wrap her mind around how this man could be the incarnate version of restoration.  But if there was one thing she did know and believe, it was that restoration was coming.  Because her God had promised this, and the promises of her God were true.

Despite the mysterious claims of Jesus, things were dark.  Martha may have even thought to herself, "Lazarus is dead and Jesus is weeping.  What more is there?"

But there is more.  Because the end of the story is that the story does not end.

Jesus tells the people to roll away the tombstone.  There is protest, but eventual agreement.  Out steps Lazarus, dressed in endings but certainly alive.  And Martha stands amazed.  Maybe amazed that Jesus could raise the dead, but certainly amazed that the resurrection that He was talking about permeated deeper than she had ever imagined.

And that's just it.  God says in Scripture that He is not the God of the dead.  Because death is an ending and God does not end.  And so, while we brought death into the world, threatening to end the story God had begun, God would not have it.  Period.

When we look our world, we see all sorts of death; all sorts of endings.  Endings and death cut us off from things; they sever us from experiencing fullness.  But Yahweh God has a plan to bring all things back to Himself.  And Yahweh is a God who is alive and unending.  So, naturally, God specializes in continuing.

As His followers then, we enter into God's plan to restore everything.  In the name of Jesus Christ we have the power to do all things.  This has all sorts of implications, many of which are explored in Scripture.  The whole Bible is about this mission that God is on to bring everything out of death and back into life.

But the point of all of this is that the end of the story is never the end.  Just when you think the story seems to be over, there's more to it.  Because graduating doesn't mean everything ends.  In fact, everything is just beginning.  That's what they say at every cheesy graduation speech, right?  They're right on many levels.  To illustrate exactly what they are talking about in all of those speeches, Jesus raised a man who was wrapped head to toe in death.

Of course, that was only the beginning.

Rationalizing the Walk

The high dive at Guilford pool was at least six feet high. At age eleven, my worst nightmare was jumping off of it. I imagined it. I'd fall screaming and flailing, only to hit the pool and be torn to ribbons. If by some miraculous chance I was still alive, I would surely drown in the twelve foot depths. I was perfectly content jumping off of the low dive. It was fun. For a while. Then I started wondering why none of my friends had been horribly annihilated by the terrible fall. They would tell me I should try it. I would tell them they were idiots. I think it was the day everyone was doing 360s that I snapped. I stood at the base of the ladder, nearly in tears, the line now folding over itself behind me. Maybe it was the constant death threats and "hurry up kid!" being repeatedly shouted at me, but I did it. My eleven year old psyche in shambles, I ran up the ladder as fast as I could and launched off the diving board. When I hit the water, though slightly shocked at the lack of lacerations and contusions I had endured, I simply remained underwater and mimicked death. I think it was the wake of the next kid that snapped me back to reality. After surfacing, making a doggy paddle dash to the ladder, and pulling the obligatory "high dive wedgie" out of my pants, I immediately got back in line. The high dive was the best kept secret in the world.

To this day I'm still afraid of heights. But I'm eternally grateful I stopped thinking and jumped off that stupid plank. And here's the point of that overly-dramatized story. Sometimes we out think our actions. We talk the talk, then we rationalize the walk.

In the book of Mark, Jesus heals a man with paralysis. The paralyzed man's buddies climb up the side of a building with the man on a mat. Trying to find some way to get through the crowds surrounding Jesus, they then proceed to lower him through the roof. Awesome. Jesus first tells the man his sins are forgiven, then tells him to pick his mat up and walk. Then the man gets up and walks on out.

But what if the man didn't get up?

What if he sat there and though to himself "I've been paralyzed for quite a while now. What if I look like a fool? What if this guy Jesus isn't who He says He is? Just because this guy touched me, I shouldn't be able to walk." The list could have gone on and on. But it didn't. Scripture doesn't suggest the man had any other response than doing exactly what Jesus told him to do. He got up and walked.

How often do we not just get up and walk? How often do we think about how high the high dive is, how deep that water is, or how very sick we are. We rationalize everything. "Polar bear swims are just too cold." "I'll look really stupid if she says no." "I'm too tired to write right now." "I really need this money...I just can't let go of it right now." All rationalizations I've used before. As an academic, it hurts me to say this, but I think we could stand to think a little bit less about almost everything we do. Or don't do.

Aren't the best parts of the story when the character overcomes some great adversity to get something he wants? There's something all of those characters have in common. They hadn't completely made a rock solid plan before they acted. Few of them scarcely had time to think at all. There are at least five to ten good reasons why you shouldn't do anything that's good. But you'll find a life infinitely more rewarding if you charge recklessly into the world with Christ. So the next time your mind thinks "I want to go for a run!" Go run, right then. Yes, you might not have time later for that thing you were going to do. But you're not thinking of that. You're in the street with snow in your lungs and salt on your shoes.