Last night Matt and I spent more time pondering the idea of making the extraordinary things of God ordinary. At first this seems derogatory – debasing God’s magnificence. That’s not the point at all. What it means is that prayer, worship, service, community, fellowship, conversation, and study are all things that become regular parts of our lives rather than making them something special, only happening at certain times. Otherwise, worship is isolated to worship sets on Sunday, prayer happens at meals or when we’re in trouble, etc. Taking these things from the realm of extraordinary to the ordinary leaves God as the only extraordinary thing. When emphasis is taken off of how well the worship band plays or how good you feel about giving to the poor all that’s left is the fear of God.
One analogy I came up with, while talking with Matt, was that of stealing sips of beer or wine when you were a kid (but of course all members of The House would never have done that). When you’re a kid you are limited in what you can do, how late you stay up, what you watch on TV. At Christmas dinner when you would get to try a taste of wine or when your dad let you sip some beer it was the greatest thing ever, but why? Do kids actually like wine or beer? No, it’s rotten juice, it’s repulsive. But you get to do something that only adults do – the extraordinary is to be found in the doing not in the actual essence of the drink. When you grow up you can have all the beer and wine you want, whenever you want it, just go to the store, buy a flat, get happy. There is no longer an emphasis on the thrill of getting the drink, all that’s left is the enjoyment of the drink itself. Now you can decide whether or not you actually enjoy beer. You can grow to appreciate the different brewing methods, flavors, ingredients, aromas, stout, lager, porter, ale, mead…aghlghglhglhhghl, now I’m thirsty. Or you can decide that beer is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels and find something else inspires you. The point is that the drinking becomes ordinary and we are left only to enjoy the drink itself.
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Interesting thoughts; I've been thinking about the same dichotomy, but from another perspective: after the last gathering of the house on Sunday, I was thinking about how God takes the ordinary - water/wine/bread - and in his hands they become the means to something extraordinary; and ultimately how he takes us - ordinary people with ordinary lives, and somehow makes us something extraordinary. will continue to chew on this, and wash it down with a ...
Why even categorize as ordinary or extr-? Worship is worship whether one acknowledges it and names it or not. In fact, the parts of our lives that are the most profoundly God-honouring are those which are least constrained by nick-names or time-slots or music-styles or self-projection. I for one am sure that God is the most concerned about the times when I am not programmed and not on a schedule.
At the moment I happen to be drinking from a taster's 12-pack of Rickard's - an unexpected house-warming gift. I says to myself I says, "that 'red' was a good beer. I wonder how the 'honeybrown' tastes. Hmm. I don't like it as much. But maybe the 'red' coloured my taste, next time I'll try it first."
I was enjoying them just fine without designing some scenario around them for extracting the utmost beer appreciation. I was just drinking them...not strategizing how I should drink them. And now that I think about it, I don't think I'll have one of the 'paleales'.
We must always - even I slip into 'must this' and 'must that' language for something that occurs involuntarily anyhow - we constantly and continually use our uniquely human ability to test and assess and decide and determine and discern and judge if a thing, any thing, every thing, is good. And when determined to be so, we hold onto it. Then we re-assess. This becomes the ritual: constant reconsideration rather than once-for-all categorization. Ritual anew.
"But God is one of order, and we must have a system in place that orders our worship, and we must be able to agree on what's good worship and supposing we agree (if we can't then we'll split off with those whom we can so that in the end there is agreement) then we can know that there is a best worship and then of course that's how worship should be and so why do it any other way." We insist on having this king (Tallest-Worship or Strongest-Service or Most-Aromatic-Sacrifice or Most-Handsome-Obedience or Smartest-Mission) because all the other denomi-nations have one.
Just live. You're already a Christian. You're already living like a Christian. Adding a regimen of holy activity to your life is an encumberance to the living that God is most attentive to.
Stop flogging yourself in public. We are, because of Christ, free. Ironically, free from this guilt all of us inheritors of Protestantism seem to be labouring under, disguised as a search for 'true worship' or 'true obedience' and the like. Free even to fear God.
Now that I've discovered all these blog sites of people I care about I may not be able to keep my big laptop shut.
I think I'll have one of those India Pale Ales after all.
I don't know if you were trying to disagree with me rob, but I don't think you did. I don't know where you got the idea that I was proposing a regimented/scheduled life, but I actually suggest the opposite. The point is to allow worship to just be worship so that God becomes the point, instead of the mode being central. At The House we want to allow worship to happen whenever, however, wherever it does.
Last Sunday night we were over at Paul Seburn's house and we started a spontaneous jam session, which was the least contrived, scheduled, programmed, time of worshipping God I have ever experienced. Even the sound coming out of my didge faded away and all that was left was God and His children adoring Him.
The entire point of my analogy was that we no longer have to wait for steals of beer at specific times, in specific amounts, when someone else says we can. We are free to drink deeply all the time.
Cool. I'm admittedly sensitive to theologizing.
I recognize that I wrote as though I were authoritatively refuting your comments, when I actually affirmed the core of your idea. I apologize for my negative, condescending tone. (I was trying for an opinionated and argumentative one.)
Life requires no more complication than is already inherent and I worry that our highly specialized Christian language has become bland, cliche, and worse, irrelevant. In my opinion, theological discussion (using words like 'worship' included) necessarily leads to strict dogmatism because it is (as a critic recently wrote of the latest StarWars) a 'hermetic dialogue'.
You'd be hard pressed to convince me that theological ruminations are not: at best an oversimplification of difficult and irreducible truths, at worst a total befuddlement.
To clarify, I have no sol vs. house issues. I am concerned by how hard WE all seem to have to try to identify ourselves to the world (or ourselves?) as Christians of a particular self-determined stripe.
WE do it by adding our contributions as volunteers or missionaries to our mental CSCV (Christian Service Curriculum Vitae). WE do it by conspicuously agonizing over true worship and "I don't pray enough". WE do it by orienting ourselves with/against particular sects (also called denominations). WE do it by parsing Greek verbs to know what the Bible really means.
For all I've just said about the inadequacy of hermeneutics and apologetics and the like, I sure do enjoy a good coupla pints worth of discussion about our God. Truly shared and diverse opinions are, metaphorically, the life-blood of this body we are part of. Lots of room for metaphor, if we can avoid the damnable cliche. Neither blood nor beer is cliche to me yet, mixed though they are here.
Good blood only. Good beer only.
Thanks, Chuck, for providing this forum, and not blocking me from commenting. Yet.
I do hope that the dialogue, this dialogue even, stays open.
Yes, yes, drink deeply, for that wonderous place is a present reality available to us at all times and in all places.
amen
You know what you said about things wearing out when we have access to them reminds me of that sermon on Joe's blog that he did for Palm Sunday...
"Enjoy the drink itself" I like that. Because otherwise what do we have except a junior high crush on the thrill of something out of our grasp? This is not what God is, nor what we should be to Him. Abundance is a word that is tossed around on the churchenese sea, but I really don't think we have any idea what it means. We have access to Him in abundance.
I like the idea that nothing is holy anymore. I like the idea that Christ lifts us up into a kind of "spiritual adulthood" for the sake of a better term. An adulthood where we can put away our toys and security blankets, and stand before God as favoured sons and daughters, not cowering servants. There is something freeing about no longer having to avert our eyes from a holy God lest his glory blow us to atoms. There is something freeing about no longer having to bow and scrape before a God to curry favour from a God that could just as easily destroy us. We are God's children; we have God's favour... dare I say we DESERVE it? Well, being a grown up also means that we have to accept the responsibility that comes with freedom. That's the part that scares me. It means that I need to carve out my own relationship with my Parent, and not rely upon the spiritual hand me downs from past generations. I have to ask my own questions and face the answers that I don't like. It also means that suddenly I need to work for my bread. (ouch)
I think this kind of relationship is harder and requires more of us. Suddenly instead of depending on the Levites or the high priest to deal with God, we are our own priests and high priests. Suddenly we are the ones standing in the holy of holies.
We (the house) are trying scrape off all the hand me downs and just trying to integrate these things into our lives. To make them ordinary means only that it is no longer extraordinary that we do them.
Hmm, if God is like a beer as you say, and a woman is like a beer as Homer says...deductive reasoning states God must therefore be a woman. I knew it(I figured you've already gotten enough deep, loaded comments on this one).
Thanks for clarifying, Rob. I admit that I did feel a little ambushed by your comments. It seemed like you just stumbled on to our blog ring and started shooting down everything in sight. I realize that that is not your intention (right?), but I was a little taken aback.
I really do appreciate your comments, especially your desire for removing the "have to", the "must", the "better", etc. I couldn't agree more with the need to remove so much structure (i.e. hermeneutics, apologetics, theology in general) in place of simply living before our Master. This is, in fact, the very issue that affected me most throughout Bible College. I struggled with maintaining an authentic, real life in the face of so much "knowledge" and "reason", needing to "dig deeper" and discover the real truths.
I think it all comes down to our desire to nail God and Christianity down, to sum things up in easy to understand packages like "worship", "prayer", and "transubstantiation". If we can control these elements we can discern more easily whether or not people are on the right track. This leads to the formation of denominations, which we so despise. As Matt said in his comment above we now have freedom and with that comes the challenge of finding our own way, “earning our bread”. This is not to say that we need to earn favor from God, but that God reveals Himself to each of us and we work to find Him. It’s much riskier to let people find their own way, but much healthier and it puts the power back in the right hands – God’s. It is now God who works in His relationship with people (yes, with guidance) not the pastors or elders or whoever else.
Enough for this comment. Oh, and by the way, lay off the Greek parsing or we will have to exchange words.
Two last short comments.
(1) Comment-contributor Matt, we're not our own priests, we have a single common (read: shared) Priest-King, and there is no more holy of holies.
(2) Blog administrator Chuck, shooting people and their ideas down is not OK with me and I'll apologize further if necessary. But you gotta hope for critical comment, even disagreement - that's what generates ideas; don't be surprised by it; don't fear it. This is public domain after all. (Is there an unspoken rule about the maximum length of a comment?)
(3) Ok, one more. You guys, all you guys, are kickin' it technology style and doin' the counter culture God-honouring thang in the here and now. Congratulations.
Shoot, I've got more ideas, but I'll rein it in. For now.
Well, I know that everyone is moving on to other posts but Matt was filling me in on the discussion and I promised I would add a thought or two. I do like the "beer and God" analogy, namely that of making the mysteries of God a little more organic? Thinking about beer, for example, I always think of it as something to be enjoyed with friends, talking and relaxing and whatever. It is a common drink shared between fellow seekers (upper room, anyone?) and bringing God out of the Spiritual clouds into my Earth makes Him accessible, of course, but also real,intimate authentic,and present. And I need that, you know?
I guess now that I think about it some more I feel the need to add my own serious comments for once. While I agree that pray, worship, etc. should be a part of our daily lives, I wonder what stops it from becoming mundane. We've all seen people who drink beer like it's water, pepsi, take your pick. They don't enjoy the beverage simply on taste alone, their just drinking. What stops it from becoming routine? I know I sometimes have to go back into my apartment some mornings to make sure that I've unplugged the coffee maker or turned on the answering machine. The rotine is so fixed in my mind that sometimes I can't remember if I've done it or only think I've done it because I do it every day. And what can we not make ordinary? There are some things I personally want to be special like communion, baptism, marriage cerimonies. There is something sacred in these that I don't want to be lost because it becomes relax, laid back or an opportunity to roast somebody. Anyway that's just my little opinions.
It's been said that we are creatures of habit. What if the single habit we allowed ourselves was one of reconsideration. If we were to regularly, automatically, re-evaluate our ever newly-present circumstances we could achieve the many lifestyle changes we wish for with a single stroke.
Although, I suppose we would have to know, really understand deeply, that every moment was new despite seeming similarities; and also believe that every moment WE were new even when we felt the same.
I suppose this would require a new evaluation of what it is Jesus was on about when he picked grain on the Sabbath and cursed the fig tree and all those other inexplicable, uncategorical, non-routine activities and statements that exemplified his life as a wanderer.
What if we looked like a people who didn't appear to follow any conventionally-acceptable routine, even while we were engaged in sacramental, or ritual, or annual, or daily endeavours. Each time anew - refusing them unless they were new.
What then? Might we lose our religion?
Indeed, Rob. Why are we so afraid of losing our religion? Is it that fine of a line to walk that if we stray a hair's breath this way or that we will fall out of favor with God? Why do we still have this idea that church or Christianity is designed to tell us whether or not we are walking rightly with God? What happened to God's role in looking after His own children individually? Not to say that we have no authority to speak into each other's lives, but do we belive the Holy Spirit so incapable to do the job?
Admittedly, this line of rethinking, reinventing, seeing anew, is dangerous in that everyone can find their own path and who's to judge? Well, we are, but not by our notions of what Christians should do, rather by their fruit. It's pretty easy to tell who is being lead by God and who is simply reinventing things for their own purposes.
After all, we all start from the same place when it comes to faith - the beginning. We can't slam an exhaustive compendium of theology (or the Bible for that matter) down in front of a new Christian and say, "Okay, this is what you believe now that you've signed on. All the work is done for you, just follow the rules."
Kierkegaard
"...no generation has learned from another to love, no generation begins at any other point than at the beginning, no generation has a shorter task assigned to it than had the preceding generation, and if here one is not willing like the previous generations to stop with love but would go further, this is but idle and foolish talk.
But the highest passion in a man is faith, and here no generation begins at any other point than did the preceding generation, every generation begins all over again, the subsequent generation gets no further than the foregoing -- in so far as this remained faithful to its task and did not leave it in the lurch."
Holy over-exuberant comment Batman!
A couple of thoughts.
'Ranter makes a good point; the difference twixt mundane and ordinary. We want to make the things of God ordinary, in that it does not take a special occaision like a Sunday to allow us to practise them. But, never, ever mundane. We are dealing with the living God here, and nothing is mundane, butmaybe things can be part of our routine and not be thoughtless?
I think that Kelly's point is also profound. The context for working out this moment-to-moment newness is the community. If it is just me and only me, what's the point of the renewal? A life lived only for myself is a small, small life.
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