Yours: faith & works, and guitars

“Dear friends, do you think you’ll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it? For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, “Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!” and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup—where does that get you? Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?
I can already hear one of you agreeing by saying, “Sounds good. You take care of the faith department, I’ll handle the works department.” Not so fast. You can no more show me your works apart from your faith than I can show you my faith apart from my works. Faith and works, works and faith, fit together hand in glove.”
‭‭James‬ ‭2:14-18‬ ‭MSG‬‬

At the end of November, in Village Kids, we packed bags of food for the local schools to send home with their students who don’t always have enough to eat. We were talking about how Jesus is the Bread of Life, and I asked Mary Carla, “what’s that verse that says something like, ‘it’s not ok to just say “thoughts and prayers!” you have to do something about it.’?” She didn’t know, or at least, she didn’t recognize the bad NIV translation (Nate’s In-the-ballpark Version), and I couldn’t find it either. A couple days later, I got the email asking me to write a devotional on James 2:14-18. Ain’t that just like the Lord.

A while back, I looked up the Latin translation for faith (you know, like you do) and noticed something interesting. Fides, the nominative case of “faith”, can also be translated “lyre, harp, or guitar.” I think there’s a beautiful correlation in that for this passage from James. Go back and look at verse 18 and replace the word “faith” with “guitar” and the word “works” with “music”. That gives me a much better idea of just how crazy James must have felt it was to try to separate the two.

When people fly into the Nashville airport, they are reminded over and over again that they’ve arrived in “Music City!” There are signs and decorations and announcements from the Mayor and other local celebrities, and there are several cases around the terminal displaying some very nice, very pristine, probably very expensive guitars; symbols of our status as Music City. Sometimes I’m tempted to display my faith the same way. I want to show the world a neat, clean, attractive faith. I want a status faith, one that shares in the glory of God, after all I am a co-heir with Christ! (Romans 8:17) “Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!”

But Jesus said that if a man asks for my shirt, I should give him my coat too.  That I should seek out the hungry and homeless and hurting. The same verse that tells me I am co-heir says that if I am to share in His glory, then I must also share in His suffering.  If I’m going to follow Jesus, then I need to take my faith out of the display case and try it out.  I need to try to make some music with this guitar.

And if I do that, it’s not going to remain sanitary and spotless. If I put my faith into action, it’s going to get tested and tried and stretched. If I act on the things I say I believe about Jesus, then my faith will grow, and be strengthened, and it will even move mountains. A faith that acts is a faith that changes the world.  

Instead of one of those immaculate display case guitars, I hope someday my faith looks more like Willie Nelson’s guitar, Trigger. In seeing the guitar, you can see the music it’s made. It looks like a guitar that has played “On the Road Again” about a million times (that’s a good and fitting example for a church that has to Go!). It’s a guitar that’s been played in practice, and played in private, and played in front of millions. It’s played songs that no one knows and songs that everyone can sing along to. It’s been used and beaten up, but it’s been loved, it even has a name! It’s not as pretty and shiny as those airport guitars, but it’s done more than those guitars will ever do. It’s famous. It has its own Wikipedia page! Its music has impacted lives, and yeah, even changed the world.

But the guitar hasn’t done that.  Not by itself.  It’s the music that comes from the guitar that reaches people.  So too with our faith.  My prayer today is that I will put my faith into practice, and that the melody I make will be good and pleasing to the Author of the tune.

You don't know him like I do.

“You are a way better person than you realize.”

That’s what my friend told me.  I wanted to argue with her.  I’m a pretty crummy person.  “You don’t know him like I do.”

My first thought was of the opening line of a Caedmon’s Call song, “No one would love me if they knew all the things I hide.”  See, I know that I’m not a better person.  I realize just how much of this iceberg is below the surface. 

I remembered that retweet from a couple days before.  “what a great dude he is.”  Was his reply just a moment of honesty?   Just a thoughtless, throw-away comment, trying to be sarcastic and funny?  A little bit of both? When I saw it, I immediately identified with the former.  I’m terrible about accepting compliments…even worse when I know it’s entirely undeserved.

“γνῶθι σεαυτόν” we’re taught by the oracle at Delphi.  I always felt that if you could learn to obey that advice, you probably wouldn’t need an oracle.  I try to “know myself” and so the second thing that went through my head was, “why does she think she understands me better than I do?”  Surely if there’s a lack of realization, it’s on the part of the person who doesn’t see the whole picture.  The one who doesn’t know him like I do.  The one who doesn’t know all the things I hide.  The one who only sees the tip of the iceberg.

Here's the thing: that message came in the middle of a conversation that was made necessary because I needed to apologize to her for being angry, and then lying about it.  I was full of realization of just how much I was not a "better person." 

“You are a way better person than you realize.”

I couldn’t accept that.  

I had to correct her. 

But then.

Then, thanks to whatever is at work within me, I decided that I would just accept that grace. 

I didn't do it very gracefully.  I started by copying another stolen tweet (@prodigalsam) comparing taking a compliment to a dog crossing an electric fence.  Then I said thanks.  Then the conversation moved on. 

But I didn't.

I dwelt on that benediction.  I wrestled with it.  I hoped to believe some truth in it.

Because I have a rather high opinion of my friend.  I don’t think she was just saying it to be nice.  I believe that she speaks truth…but how could that be, knowing me as I do?

Truth is, I have a rather high opinion of myself as well…the previous paragraphs notwithstanding.  I struggle a lot with pride and ego.  I’m also frequently deceitful and angry.  And that’s just a bit of the iceberg I try to hide beneath the surface.  I’m often tempted to describe myself with the words “worthless” and “hopeless”, except that I don’t believe either of those words could be applied to any person living in a world redeemed by the grace of Christ.  I choose to believe that everyone has worth and everyone has hope.  Even me.  I choose to believe there’s truth in what my friend said.  And I believe there’s still something (Someone) at work within me.

Fasting

It's day 15 of a 21 say fast.  Today I just want to quit.  I'm trying to get over it.  I'm trying to think about what is true and noble, just, pure and lovely.  But instead of focusing on the excellent and praise-worthy, I've allowed myself to wallow a bit and just stew in a bad mood; dwelling too long on all the things I'm not eating, but could be.  When i'm struggling with things, one of my favorite quotes comes from Phantastes by George MacDonald:

"My spirits rose as I went deeper into the forest but I could not regain my former elasticity of mind.  I found cheerfulness to be like life itself -- not to be created by any argument.  Afterwards I learned, that the best way to manage some kinds of painful thoughts, is to dare them to do their worst; to let them lie and gnaw at your heart till they are tired; and you find you still have a residue of life they cannot kill."

This does not help me now.  This is not the sort of painful thought that he's talking about. The longer I let them gnaw, the more likely it is that I won't have any residue of life to keep this up.

So instead of doing that I thought I'd try to write a bit to take my mind off it. It's working so far.
This shouldn't be surprising, I suppose, since I read something similar today (at lunch, while I was trying to take my mind off the carrots I was eating...this has been an all-day struggle) in Ephesians 4:28.  It says, "If you are the sort of person who complains about the fast you're on, stop complaining and dwelling on it. Begin turning your thoughts to something more productive like writing a blog about what you're dealing with, and then share it generously with others (even if you're pretty sure no one ever reads this and even if they did at one point, you haven't posted anything on here in longer than you can remember)."  Your translation may have slightly different phrasing, but Paul's advice is the same:
1) If you're sinning, stop. 2) Since it's hard to just give something up, replace it with something true, or noble, or just, or pure, or lovely. 3) Use that new work to bless someone else.

Now, probably, being hungry after more than two weeks of fasting, isn't a sin, but my attitude was.  Maybe not sin with a capital S, and not one of the top ten, but was still something that got in the way of my right relationship with Christ.  And not just with Him.  If I'd've continued to stew in that grumpy mood, I was going to end up snapping at my lovely, pregnant wife for eating macaroni and brownies (not together, she's not quite that pregnant-crazy), and I don't want to do that, because I want her eating enough and eating well and staying healthy right now.  Macaroni and brownie example aside, she does eat good, healthy food, and takes great care of herself and her boys...it just happened to be macaroni and brownies tonight that was pushing me over the edge.  No, that's not fair, I wasn't being pushed by anyone or anything; I was willfully stomping over to the edge, and it's that arrogant, angry attitude that was messing me up.

So, this turned out to be a really useful exercise.  Found a good lesson from the Bible, was able to apply it to real-life situations, did not yell at pregnant wife.  You can't ask for much more than that.  Except macaroni and brownies.

GO IRISH !!! BEAT Trojans ! ...next year :(

I have a dilemma. Two hours before Notre Dame's biggest game in a dozen years, I've developed selective amnesia. I can't remember any of the words, or even any of the tune to Southern Cal's fight song. Under normal circumstances, this would be wonderful news; even though I can't remember the song, I do remember that I hate it. Most Domers, I think, would agree, that to delete that tune from your memory would be second only to winning the National Championship. If not second, it's certainly in your top ten ND wish list. However, here's where the dilemma comes in. I still like to sing my own little cavalcade before the games, with the fight songs that I learned with the Glee Club as a student. It's my own post-grad tradition, and I'm sure many former clubbers out there could itentify with it. But today, my cavalcade fell dead right after "all hail, our old Purdue..." I couldn't even transition into "The march is on..." to the sound of thunderous cheering and clapping (in my mind) because that awful piece of music was forgotten.
So, I decided to call one of my friends, someone I have enourmous musical respect for and someone I knew would appreciate the gravity of the situation. He could help me in this dilemma and he would be able to remind me of the terrible tune if I needed him to. When his phone rang and rang and finally went to voice-mail, I was unusually relieved. I was worried he might launch right into it when I told him I had forgotten it. I know in a couple hours I'll hear the USC fight song about a hundred times, so I've decided to wait till then to subject myself to the torture of that memory. In the meantime, I will forego my traditional solo cavalcade. Having spent four years at Notre Dame, I do not lightly break with a tradition, even one that only matters to me, and I understand that should the game turn out like others in recent years, I will have to shoulder a large part of the blame. However, I'm willing to risk it for even a few precious minutes of not knowing the USC fight song.

half-time addendum: Well, that blissful reprieve from Fight On... is over, but a 7 point lead at the half makes it easier to take. I meant to do it earlier, but my prediction for the game was ND 42-35 USC and I'm gonna stick with that. I admit the green jerseys worried me, but since I've been so excited about the last three appearances, let's hope this trepidation is a good sign.
GO IRISH !!! BEAT Trojans !

half-time commentary on the commentary: The Guglielmino Athletics facility looks great. From the NBC segment I'm not really sure why it's not just called the Guglielmino Football facility, but anyway. I just wanted to point out that anything located to the extreme east of anything, isn't "in the heart" of anything. i.e. the "Gug" is not in the heart of the Notre Dame campus.

post-game wrap-up: Well, we did a good job of shaking down the 'thunder' (Lendale White), but we couldn't quite bottle the 'lightning' (Reggie Bush). Bonnie Coach Charlie did a good job of waking up the echoes, but when the green jerseys saw that shirt that Joe Montana was wearing, they must have thought they were in a weird dream and those particular echoes went back to sleep again. If anyone can find a picture of that ridiculous outfit, please send a link to it here, so everyone will know what I'm talking about, in case they didn't see it.

Old Testament Football Players and Ex-Roommates

I think it was Pat Haden, NBC analysist for the Notre Dame vs. MSU debacle, who said,
"If Job were a running back he'd be Darius Walker. He just waits and waits and waits, and then he spurts,"
in reference to the ND tailback. 'Waits and waits and waits,' must be an allusion to Job's much publicized patience. The spurt, I assume, must refer to his leperosy.

On another note, I saw my freshman roommate wearing a Tulane shirt (he was from New Orleans) during Fr. Jenkins' Hurricane Katrina Fund PSA. I'll be blaming his appearance on national tv for the subsequent loss.