Using Jesus as a Guiding Model

In contemplating the most accurate way to describe my own religious affiliation (should I be asked by fellow churchgoers), I have given long thought to one my good friend's approaches of responding according to the primary religious model and/or framework that has shaped one's outlook on life; which for us is the person of Jesus.

I was reminded of this approach after my friend refered me to Malcolm Dalglish’s hymn “Paradise” where Jesus is imaged as the “flame that lights the way.” I could really relate to my friend's reflection that- even if he doesn’t believe in certain Christian doctrines- there are still those aspects of Jesus' "life, teaching, example, and person” that serve as “the light by which (we) discern things.”

I totally agree.

Although I think Jesus went way too far in some of the things he was believed to have said and despite the fact that I have serious intellectual difficulty in (1) embracing his ideas about otherworldly matters, (2) accepting the authority he seems to assume for himself and (3) believing the Gospel’s miracle stories as historical facts, I still admire Jesus greatly and find wisdom in his approach to life, humility, conflict-resolution, service and ethics. As I have said before, I blame his Good Samaritan story for making me a humanist!

All that to say, I cannot deny that my personal outlook on life has been profoundly shaped by the one they called Jesus.

I consider myself to be an "admirer of Jesus." It seems too dishonest for me to say I am a “follower of Jesus” considering that- in the most literal sense- I have not done what those characters in the Gospels who actually followed Jesus were asked to do; I’d dare say that few of us who confidently claim allegiance to Jesus' way us have actually gone that far with it. I suspect that those of us who attend Christian churches have fashioned an easier, more formulaic, less-demanding and distorted form of Jesus’ gospel in order to make us feel better about failing to actually emulate his example.

Even though I’m pretty far along in my discarding of traditional Christian dogma, I do take the idea of following Jesus seriously and wish more people allowed themselves room to really “count the cost” and consider the implications of such a major commitment.In light of this, I try to use the life of Jesus (primarily based on my reading of the Synoptic Gospels) as a guiding model and hermeneutic to discern his interests and priorities from those of the early Church. I, like many others who have pursued this line of thought, think there is a profound difference in the two.

Before I realized how unoriginal this notion was, I had long wondered: Why does the Jesus who preached the "Sermon on the Mount" seem so far removed from the emphasized teachings and practices of the contemporary Christian church? Why was the Sermon on the Mount’s “almost-humanistic” Jesus (so practical and so human) seem so different from the ethereal and cosmic character of The Savior Christ that millions of individuals worship and call upon? Why do I gravitate to the former figure while so many gravitate to the latter?

How refreshing it would be if my Christian brothers and sisters could at least admit that many of our contemporary churches tend to emphasize and demand conformity in things that Jesus didn’t seem to stress about (i.e., the great commission to “go ye therefore”, public prayer, adherence to notions of biblical inerrancy, papal infallibility, advancing pro-Christian political agendas, condemning homosexuality, creationism, intimidating non-Christians and “sinners” with the threat of hell, the idea that one’s salvation is contingent upon one’s acceptance of certain doctrines, etc.) whereas Jesus himself seemed to stress a lot of things that many of our more dogmatic evangelical churches seem to downplay (i.e., the great commandment to “love God and neighbor”, loving and praying for one’s enemies, selling all possessions and giving to the poor, being non-violent, being merciful, forbidding divorce, praying only in private, being service-minded, turning the other cheek, intimidating the apathetic religious hypocrites of his day with the threat of hell, and the idea that one’s salvation is contingent upon one’s compassionate behavior/willingness to forgive others, etc.).

How I wish I could get more of my Christian friends to at least agree with me on that point!I also can’t help but notice how many “bible-believing churches” base their beliefs and faith claims on things that Jesus was likely to have never said (for example, the material found primarily in the Gospel of John and the New Testament letters).

Though I am visiting, I refuse to ever join a church that seeks to teach me how to frame the world into an “us-versus-them” of believers and “hell-bound” non-believers; that teaches young children to reject the most credible scientific insights; that teaches members how to suppress the faculty of reason; and who actively pressure children and adults into professing “a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior.”

I say that is only one understanding of the gospel, and- thank goodness- not the only way.

Where are the fellowships that focus more on teaching congregants how to cultivate the fortitude to forgive others “seventy times seven;” how to develop the maturity and contentment needed to part ways with self-absorption and mindless consumerism; how to use what you have to serve those who are in need; how to regularly escape to quiet, secluded places to pray mindfully; how to empathize with the outcasts, orphans and widows; and how to evangelize without words by extending merciful “Samaritan” hands to those of different cultures, beliefs and traditions?

Does one have to become a Buddhist or a mystic in order to engage in spiritual practices that would help them to live closer to the way of Jesus?

Can creative outlets save the world?

I found this post to be an inspiring and awesome call to action; especially as the author refers to the artistic ambitions of the young Adolf Hitler. Can creative outlets help us to address some of the gravest issues facing our civilization (war, violence, terrorism, etc.)? I dare think so. Yes, perhaps it really is that simple. 

The post caused me to recall the chilling words of Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem “Boy Breaking Glass” in which she says, “I shall create! If not a note, a hole. If not an overture, a desecration.” 

Creation will occur. Regardless. The question is: What will be the nature of the creation?

I am deeply interested in art therapy and psychology. And I have always been drawn to stories of young people who have been encouraged to vent their frustration and confusion through an artistic outlet of some sort (whether or not they become professional artists). 

Last year, I had the privilege to teach a class on editorial cartooning to a group of middle-school children with the Big Brothers, Big Sisters program. It was amazing to see what could come out of a quiet child who had never tapped into their creative potential. Regardless of their artistic skill, it was clear that these kids had something important to say about the issues that mattered to them. It was life-changing for me and reinforced for me the important place that creative expression occupies in human life.

We’ve heard about rappers who would’ve been drug dealers. We’ve heard about jazz artists who would’ve been hustlers. We’ve heard about at-risk youth who find redemption and cathartic release through public theatre.

The profession doesn’t matter as much to me as the therapeutic nature of creating. So I totally agree with a comment on the post that said, “Sometimes, the simple act of being quiet with a bunch of markers and paper for an hour or two can be therapeutic, whatever the artistic value of the finished work.”

I know that worked for me. As a child, I loved to draw stick figures. Soon I started studying the work of comic book artists my illustrations began to improve. A whole new world opened up. Realizing my interest in drawing, my grandmother would bring home reams of printing paper that her company would throw away so that I could have drawing materials. “From so humble a beginning…” Such is creation.

There is so much creative energy inside us that needs to be directed. I believe that repressing the impulses to create and to contribute will only hurt us in the end. In my view, creative expression is going to happen no matter what and any efforts to actively repress/suppress/oppress those impulses will only ensure that the later expressions of those impulses will take more malignant and unhealthy forms. (Recall: "I shall create...if not a note, a hole...")

I say we help people discover constructive outlets for their creative impulses. 

I can only speculate as to what my life would have been like without my creative outlets. I believe that realizing my creative potential so early in life kept me free from a lot of the troubling traps native to a lower-class, urban environment. I am convinced that my having an artistic outlet contributed greatly in helping me to grow and mature. 

Art was a consolation for me through lonely, boring and quiet times. It was how I believed the “divine” communicated with me. When I was confused or disjointed, I could always find refuge in the act of creating; and I still do.

I believe art helps us to process life. By cultivating the creative impulse, we develop new ways to looking, listening, touching and tasting the world around us and exploring the depths within.

I make my money as a public relations executive, but I am an artist who thrives off the creative process- both at work and at home; whether I am playing guitar, sketching illustrations, composing a poem, or writing a blog post. 

I do these things, not to make money- but to make “me.” 

A prayer for the day

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow."- Mary Jean Irion, poet & author 

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May we take the time to be both mindful and appreciative of the wonders around us (the people, the life-forms, the gifts, and the resources) and the worlds within (our memories, our dreams, our convictions, our concerns, our fears and our hopes). May our souls be receptive to the “still, small voice” inside which continually calls us to bear the fruits of truth, love, wisdom, compassion, courage, growth, peace, integrity, humility, reverence and child-like wonder. May we resist the temptation to worship idols and may we resist the urge to either suppress or deny the good in ourselves and others. May we master ourselves in order to become better servants. With our eyes open to the beautiful and brutal aspects of reality, our ears attentive to the concerns of those with whom we interact, and the courage to face the challenges of the day with a creative, revolutionary and resourceful love.

Amen and may it be so.

The Quiet

"All travelers, somewhere along the way, find it necessary to check their course, to see how they are doing. We wait until we are sick, or shocked into stillness, before we do the commonplace thing of getting our bearings. And yet, we wonder why we are depressed, why we are unhappy, why we lose our friends, why we are ill-tempered... Who knows? God may whisper to you in the quietness what He has been trying to say to you, oh, for so long a time."
- Howard Thurman, Deep Is the Hunger

I came across this quote from the late Christian mystic and civil-rights activist Howard Thurman today and it spoke to where I am right now in my life. It led me to ask myself: When was the last time I got quiet?

Jesus said that we could know the truth about people by looking at the fruits they are producing in their lives. Well, right now, I’m not satisfied with a lot of the fruit that I've been producing in my life. It is obvious to me that I have not been producing the fruit that comes from spending quiet time in focused meditation and prayer. I find myself overwhelmed by the thought of having too many people to pray for and too many concerns to pray about and ponder upon. I haven’t really prayed as long or as deeply as I would like to, so a lot of things worth praying for have slipped my mind. I’ve also noticed that I have put down many of my talents, gifts and abilities and have not tried to pick them back up. Don’t get me wrong…I've been getting above average grades and I have been doing a lot of studying, but I haven't done enough resting or reflecting. Ironically, while most of the books I am interested in reading are about people’s first-hand experiences and understandings of God, I find that I don’t like to set aside time to seek those experiences for myself. Many of my prayers come in the form of quick thoughts that I fire off while I am distracted by a host of other concerns and priorities. I think a lot, but I haven't been setting aside enough time in quiet solitude to practice mindfulness and increase my awareness so that I can feel deeply. I don’t feel deeply enough the Spirit of God. I don’t feel deeply enough the emotions of others.

Because of this, I have noticed my tendency to widen the distance between myself and my friends. These days, it seems I’d rather be left alone. Nowadays, it takes a lot of energy for me to be around a lot of people, especially those close to me. My friends call me but I only call back when I feel like it, which is rarely. If it wasn’t for my wife’s suggestions that I call certain friends to check on them, I wouldn’t have called them at all. What kind of friend does that make me? I keep a lot of my personal opinions and controversial views to myself for the sake of harmony, but I have grown weary knowing that people barely know me because I only reveal a small percentage of my true self to them. I see that many of my close relationships are suffering because I have grown bitter, resentful, angry and irritated due to bottling up so much of what I want to say for fear of being criticized, rejected, or accused of being a heretic. Maybe I’m frustrated by the fact that humans can’t read minds (that would make it so much easier to communicate). In many ways I feel frustrated and depressed. Maybe I need to get quiet.

It seems that at every waking moment I am in a constant and restless frenzy to fill my mind with noise and information. I can't drive to work without listening to the radio; I can't take a shower without fretting over an anxiety; I can't use the bathroom without having a book or article in my hands; I can't eat my lunch unless I'm making progress on whatever book I'm reading; I can't lay down to sleep at night without reaching for a dictionary or a book of poetry; I can’t sit down on my couch without reaching for the remote or playing on my guitar; I can't concentrate at my job because I'm constantly distracted by incoming e-mails, phone calls and my own tendencies to surf the Internet. It's like my mind can't be still. Even when I do find some quiet time, I immediately start looking for an activity to fill it with. It's almost like I fear being alone with just my thoughts.

A couple of weeks ago I did manage to find some quiet time. After I got off work and before I went to my Thursday evening seminary class, I spent ten minutes sitting outside near the forest behind the seminary I attend. I just sat there to watch and listen. I began pondering a theological question at first, but then I shifted my focus to observe the natural world all around me. I felt like something was drawing me to watch, listen and feel. I sat there breathing in the air that smelled like oncoming rain. I sat there letting my skin absorb the wave-like gusts of the invisible breeze. I sat there trying to listen to the bird songs that competed with the hum, hiss and rumble of airplanes soaring in the sky and cars moving through the streets. I sat there trying to hear how many different bird calls I could distinguish. I sat there pretending those bird rhythms were actually different pieces of a diverse orchestra working together to communicate a song to whoever would surrender their moments to hear it. I sat there attempting to calm my restless mind by looking at the vivid spring-time green of the trees. Ten minutes later, as I got up from my seat, I could feel a current of relaxation and peace coursing through my deepest places.

Ever since that moment, I have yearned for that peace again. When will I experience that calm? I need to get quiet again. What else might I find in those quiet places? Might I find that clarity of purpose that I am looking for? Might I find the One who birthed those purposes in me?