I might have gone overkill on researching the Holy Spirit... though I can't actually regret spending that level of investigation and contemplation on this most important subject and Person.
"Overkill," because I'm not the one teaching this next Revival/Worship night, Caleb is. He and I dedicated a Kuppa Joy hangout to discussing his message, and my prior study certainly helped me to both give and receive assurance that we are stewarding God's word. However, what began as an exhaustive vision for explaining the Spirit has since been trimmed to a brief (but diverse) survey of Bible verses and encouragement-challenge to our church family to walk in His power.
Good stuff - more prudent in light of that venue and how people learn - yet something about that change and tonight's peculiar sleeplessness is now compelling me to communicate and reflect the knowledge I stored up.
---
I did a word search of the word "spirit" in the ESV, examining all the passages with a capital S (or hints that it could be an upper case instance).
First, I was surprised by how active and unpredictable role He played throughout the Old Testament-- resting over chaotic waters at the dawn of creation, redirecting a pagan's mouth of curses into the praise-filled pronouncement of Israel's future ruler, and rushing in strength and strategy upon unlikely heroes who were either born of or bedding with prostitutes.
Second, I was struck by the divergent depictions of His work flowing into the New Testament. There's that same power of the miraculous occurring in Matthew, Mark, John, and Luke-Acts. Seeing the Spirit moving in thrilling and spontaneous ways, I'm inspired to expand what I consider possible (beyond a strict box of what I deem the Biblical precedent) and boldly spread the gospel. Yet, as the canon continues, these manifestations begin to give way for something else to hold primary importance...
...I'm talking about the chiefly invisible, internal, or even seemingly mundane fruit of the Spirit's labors. Paul makes a few mentions of signs accompanying his message, but in every epistle he emphasizes how the Holy Spirit brings assurance of salvation, knowledge of truth, sanctified lifestyles, unified churches, and boldness unto death. Rather than summoning evangelistic fervor alone, the apostle's letters commission steadfastness in building fellow disciples and walking honorably as temporary citizens of this world.
Now, let me clarify two important things: I'm not at all concluding that miracles have "died out" or even become the exception, nor am I arguing that these contrasting glimpses of the Spirit are contradictory. On the former point, I think we should pray at every opportunity for healings and wonders and guidance, trusting that God will in many cases graciously intervene, both for the sake of the gospel and for His children. Regarding the latter, I hold several speculations for why each work of the Spirit is to be be expected and reconciled-- ranging from how the prophets spoke of regenerated human hearts as salvation's crescendo, to the almost anticlimactic moments of Jesus' resurrection appearances and sudden ascension speaking to our daily grind during His physical absence.
What I do mean by "divergent" is that I've been among Christians who seek the miraculous for its own sake, and construct a very narrow understanding of a believer's life on earth solely from the Book of Acts. They forget that temporal signs are purposed to point to something eternal, supernatural gifts are subordinate to the aspiration of agape love, and a disciple's life in this world is comprised of both incarnation and transfiguration; Good Friday and Easter Sunday; Pentecost and persecution.
I'm trying to learn from my charismatic brothers and sisters-- because the conservative alternative is far too close to complacency and convenience, with its ethereal comfort and convenience of a Christian walk so eager for accommodating the American lifestyle. I'm going for something in-between and more aware of the overall Biblical context... although I admit I may not be there yet, and there is no formulaic way in ratios and chronological ordering to derive unbiased doctrine.
Simply put, I believe that the Spirit can do what He wants, and still suspect that's a part of why I eventually felt Him tangibly even if that isn't a uniform experience for every believer. I know there is a great dignity and empowering found as He has been poured out upon us, which such an epic span of the Scriptures and modern missions testify to. However, equally real as the mighty rushing is the more gradual effect of His inward resting-- rebel hearts softened into humble instruments, God fully and permanently present among sin-stained men and women, as well as spiritual families knitted and growing together amidst a hostile world... independent of whether you comprehend the infinite power and manifold wisdom of this spectacle you're included in as an integral member.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Manthano: Shepard
Right before the Relient K concert, I completed the main story of Mass Effect. Sadly (but perhaps for the best), I won't be playing either of the game's two sequels... which receive less favorable reviews, and take a very different turn in story, towards an ultimately unsatisfactory ending. Nonetheless, I deeply enjoyed this first game and its lore-rich story... and I kind of need to express all of it in actual writing, lest I waste another early hour in bed as I compose this analysis on mental canvas.
The Universe
Here's the first thing I identified for why I enjoyed Mass Effect so much-- it's set in a galactic world that's almost a sibling to my own fanta-sci universe. Centuries have passed, Earth has discovered physics-bending powers, and now humanity finds itself amidst a cosmopolitan empire built upon the highways of faster than light (FTL) space travel. Yet that empire and the powers it rests upon are not all that they seem...
Actually- the similarities with the Starsoul Saga is not entirely coincidental. Some of my former friends played Mass Effect long before I did, and one day we put together a tabletop RPG which they closely based upon the video game. So I technically encountered the Mass Effect universe indirectly, but had a chance to bring in plenty of personal touches and other inspirations.
Whereas the video game's powers are split between biotic (kinetic force attacks or protective barriers, through a rare mutation of the brain cells plus an amplifier) or tech (hacking androids and making enemy weapons overheat with a holographic iPad/3-D printer/Swiss army knife), my magic concept of "the Gift" adds artistic creativity onto the technological manipulation, and includes other categories of elemental matter and energy along with the biological and spiritual. As for cosmic conflict, Mass Effect's is between synthetic AI and organic life... but for Starsoul Saga, it's about spiritual beings and elitist adherents against the underdogs of the natural world.
The Hero
John Shepard is highly customizable for each player, and in fact his first name can be optionally changed (with all voice acting referring to him [or her!] as Shepard/Commander Shepard). In addition to selecting a personal appearance and combat class, you also have choices for his childhood background (colonist, earthbound, or spacer) and a more recent event which defines his psychological profile (sole survivor, war-hero, or ruthless).
My Shepard has a mixed Asian ethnicity (probably Japanese, who actually show up in a few characters and technology companies), with green eyes and brown hair. He grew up as a colonist of a newly settled planet, but raiders killed everyone he loved, and it was only thanks to a military starship that he escaped. He enlisted as a soldier when he was 18. At the age of 22 during 'shore leave' on another planet, a massive raider fleet attacked and this time he fought back-- rallying a defense among the citizens and then single-handedly holding the line at the last moment before human reinforcements arrived. Similar to my "Pilgrim" class in Skyrim, Shepard is a jack-of-all-trades who sticks to his pistol, employs biotic and tech powers mostly as team support/defense, and gets farther through being a persuasive paragon who others will follow to the gates of hell (I even told the cyborg final boss there was still some part of him longing for redemption, to which he resisted the evil AI's power long enough to shoot himself).
A great spiritual encouragement about this is thinking of myself in the boots of a soldier. I can imagine myself as a wizard, pilgrim, or maybe an adventurous battle-mage... but never before as the military type. Yet in Paul's second letter to Timothy, he writes "Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him" (2:3-4). As a bonus fun fact: the term pagan was first used in Rome with a context of a common civilian (rather than the crude, country-person connotation of it), to contrast with Christians who have a higher citizenship and fight against preying spiritual principalities. So maybe I'm not the standard infantry personality... but if we're talking about enduring dedication and higher purpose in a materialist society where many believers are easily entangled, then I can be a soldier.
The Team
One more thing-- as opposed to the limited dialogue and optional importance of companions in The Elder Scrolls (which I often filled in with my imagination), Mass Effect has a refreshing emphasis upon teamwork and develops every major character through dynamic conversations. There's a cast of both humans and aliens; two of your choice will accompany you each mission, and afterwards you can find them on the lower deck to hear their feedback on your decisions and learn about their past history.
My thoughts on the romance aspect of this are conflicted; it eventually falls into the typical cliches of film (a romantic night before the big battle) and television (an unfulfilled side-plot stretched over the next two sequels, rather than a natural and beneficial partnership). However, it did begin as something sweet-- a growing friendship, meaningful conversations about interests and family members, and then - following a prudent delay because 'saving the galaxy' and 'you're my commanding officer' - she's the one to reassure and (attempts to) kiss Shepard at his very lowest point after a friend's death and the loss of their superiors trust... being the first of his crew to plead him to keep fighting and follow him even if it means going rogue.
Anyway, all this made me think of community and leadership in general. In The Wizard of Oz fashion, I was vaguely reminded of various friends as I traveled the galaxy. I actually noticed myself becoming better at guiding IRL conversations and being present to encourage my friends because of its importance in Mass Effect. While there is often an advantage to independent initiative and paving the way (I had to find out halfway in the game that crew members always deal 50% less damage than I do, even though I specialized for support and gave them all the damage-dealing abilities), we can't do the works God prepared for us alone... and my own passion regarding missions could certainly have a greater, exponential effect if I pass it on and equip others.
---
It was sad when it was over, knowing that I wouldn't continue playing and it wouldn't be worth continuing... but it was good while it lasted. It's the sort of thing where the Lord reminds me - as I've forgotten or never believed most of my life - that real life can actually be that cool with Him, and in that sense I'm just stepping into a more epic universe and honored calling and awesome community.
The Universe
Here's the first thing I identified for why I enjoyed Mass Effect so much-- it's set in a galactic world that's almost a sibling to my own fanta-sci universe. Centuries have passed, Earth has discovered physics-bending powers, and now humanity finds itself amidst a cosmopolitan empire built upon the highways of faster than light (FTL) space travel. Yet that empire and the powers it rests upon are not all that they seem...
Actually- the similarities with the Starsoul Saga is not entirely coincidental. Some of my former friends played Mass Effect long before I did, and one day we put together a tabletop RPG which they closely based upon the video game. So I technically encountered the Mass Effect universe indirectly, but had a chance to bring in plenty of personal touches and other inspirations.
Whereas the video game's powers are split between biotic (kinetic force attacks or protective barriers, through a rare mutation of the brain cells plus an amplifier) or tech (hacking androids and making enemy weapons overheat with a holographic iPad/3-D printer/Swiss army knife), my magic concept of "the Gift" adds artistic creativity onto the technological manipulation, and includes other categories of elemental matter and energy along with the biological and spiritual. As for cosmic conflict, Mass Effect's is between synthetic AI and organic life... but for Starsoul Saga, it's about spiritual beings and elitist adherents against the underdogs of the natural world.
The Hero
John Shepard is highly customizable for each player, and in fact his first name can be optionally changed (with all voice acting referring to him [or her!] as Shepard/Commander Shepard). In addition to selecting a personal appearance and combat class, you also have choices for his childhood background (colonist, earthbound, or spacer) and a more recent event which defines his psychological profile (sole survivor, war-hero, or ruthless).
My Shepard has a mixed Asian ethnicity (probably Japanese, who actually show up in a few characters and technology companies), with green eyes and brown hair. He grew up as a colonist of a newly settled planet, but raiders killed everyone he loved, and it was only thanks to a military starship that he escaped. He enlisted as a soldier when he was 18. At the age of 22 during 'shore leave' on another planet, a massive raider fleet attacked and this time he fought back-- rallying a defense among the citizens and then single-handedly holding the line at the last moment before human reinforcements arrived. Similar to my "Pilgrim" class in Skyrim, Shepard is a jack-of-all-trades who sticks to his pistol, employs biotic and tech powers mostly as team support/defense, and gets farther through being a persuasive paragon who others will follow to the gates of hell (I even told the cyborg final boss there was still some part of him longing for redemption, to which he resisted the evil AI's power long enough to shoot himself).
 |
| Is it bad that I frequently refer to him as "Francis Chan in space?" |
The Team
One more thing-- as opposed to the limited dialogue and optional importance of companions in The Elder Scrolls (which I often filled in with my imagination), Mass Effect has a refreshing emphasis upon teamwork and develops every major character through dynamic conversations. There's a cast of both humans and aliens; two of your choice will accompany you each mission, and afterwards you can find them on the lower deck to hear their feedback on your decisions and learn about their past history.
 |
| She's.... |
 |
| ...CHRRIIIIISSSTITIIIAAAAANNNN1!!! |
My thoughts on the romance aspect of this are conflicted; it eventually falls into the typical cliches of film (a romantic night before the big battle) and television (an unfulfilled side-plot stretched over the next two sequels, rather than a natural and beneficial partnership). However, it did begin as something sweet-- a growing friendship, meaningful conversations about interests and family members, and then - following a prudent delay because 'saving the galaxy' and 'you're my commanding officer' - she's the one to reassure and (attempts to) kiss Shepard at his very lowest point after a friend's death and the loss of their superiors trust... being the first of his crew to plead him to keep fighting and follow him even if it means going rogue.
Anyway, all this made me think of community and leadership in general. In The Wizard of Oz fashion, I was vaguely reminded of various friends as I traveled the galaxy. I actually noticed myself becoming better at guiding IRL conversations and being present to encourage my friends because of its importance in Mass Effect. While there is often an advantage to independent initiative and paving the way (I had to find out halfway in the game that crew members always deal 50% less damage than I do, even though I specialized for support and gave them all the damage-dealing abilities), we can't do the works God prepared for us alone... and my own passion regarding missions could certainly have a greater, exponential effect if I pass it on and equip others.
---
It was sad when it was over, knowing that I wouldn't continue playing and it wouldn't be worth continuing... but it was good while it lasted. It's the sort of thing where the Lord reminds me - as I've forgotten or never believed most of my life - that real life can actually be that cool with Him, and in that sense I'm just stepping into a more epic universe and honored calling and awesome community.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Talu: Teira the Pilgrim
For the past few weeks, my recreation time in Skyrim has been spent... well, not within Skyrim (the in-game, mainland province). After the challenge of slaying Alduin the Worldeater - firstborn of dragons, devourer of souls, and harbinger of the world's end - I was faced with a more difficult choice. For in order to muster efforts toward averting apocalypse, it was necessary that my character negotiate a truce to Skyrim's civil conflict... yet now with the dragon threat vanquished and the world saved, men's attention returned to the war for their country.
This was no surprise. A true peace was never achieved, only temporary cease-fire of a kingdom still divided (while an aggressive elven regime watched and schemed, eager to invade if they remained in that splintered state). What Teira did realize, however, is that as prophesied dragonborn and famed dragonslayer, he would be coveted by each side as a mascot to justify their renewed hostilities.
So Teira fled by boat in the night, seeking refuge in the obscure northern island of Solstheim (a secondary setting added to the game in an expansion, with its own independent storyline). He knew this was only delaying the inevitable... for even if the Imperial and Stormcloak armies postponed their campaign during the dragonborn's absence, his strength alone could bring war to finality with the least amount of bloodshed.
Yet my character is more than a mere dragonslayer (though I initially replayed this game to assume that exact aspect), and his virtue is other than sheer strength. This lesson, learned through Teira's solitude on the island, is the subject I mainly desire to record and reflect on right now. It's like a personal parable embedded into the open world epic of Skyrim... only everything else above was added into the game's plot by my own imagination, whereas this is a thoughtfully woven theme I scarcely realized and attribute to God.
---
To begin with, Teira has been something of an anomaly among my fictional avatars because of the class I selected: Pilgrim. Despite my smiling, sensitive, and peaceful self in reality, I (for whatever partly misled, peer-conditioned reason) tend to fantasize of a battle-mage or nightblade grim, aloof, and deadly.
A Pilgrim is not those things-- his skills are evenly split between defensive magics, subtle craftiness, and clever swashbuckling; his advantage found in being a dynamic learner (mechanically, this is represented in the game by his health, stamina, and magicka reserves gradually increasing as I read in-game books). So at times, Teira can avoid violence through gentle persuasion or mercifully sparing a yielding opponent... but for all other frequent occasions of conflict, Teira succeeds through creating his own enchanted equipment beforehand, then patiently wearing down larger opponents with the bow, shield, and spells.
I like this, for it's easier to relate with personally, and fits the Biblical concept of an unlikely warrior used by God in his weakness.
Next, I look at how this concept plays into his choices and mission, first with side quests, displaying the virtue of humility. Teira needs no reminder that he is the dragonborn-- a legendary messianic figure who alone can permanently kill dragons. This is true, and yet the Pilgrim isn't above retrieving an old heirloom, delivering a letter, or even playing tag with children.
I actually made it a point to put off fulfilling Teira's epic destiny (for a reasonable time), in order to be a servant-leader and tarry in one town at a time. Neither grand skill nor ominous fate is what makes him a hero then; it's just that he's an outsider entering into their community, compassionate to listen to their struggles, and willing to act on their behalf even in small ways.
I like this too. It hits close to home (pun!), because of my own decision to be a missionary in my city, even while knowing the epic global calling of Christ's ministry and Japan as one specific destination for me.
Finally, as Teira progresses from uplifting a city to defending Skyrim's future as a whole, I see that humility evolve into something greater-- charity. How easy it would have been for him to instead develop cynicism and vengefulness... from the costly complexities of civil war, bitter racism of the rebel Nords, overlooked religious persecution under Imperial government, and threats to his life from elven conspirators without any refuge. Moreover, as a man born with the soul of a dragon, grasping for power is in his very nature and can descend into corruption.
Against all this, Teira only grew in love and self-control.
Being hunted like a beast forced him into hiding away, effectively banished from the city he first settled in... but then he met a Dark Elf and great friend named Erandur-- a former worshiper of the evil spirit behind nightmares, now a repentant priest of the goddess of love and compassion. Teira learned much wisdom from Erandur, in addition to receiving instrumental help as the latter disguised himself as one of the High Elf agents, as if Teira has been taken captive (but in reality giving him freedom). After their first quest together, they traveled through Skyrim doing good deeds. Erandur would comment - when not musing on his lack of a real childhood, or the atrocities of his past he prays the goddess will one day forgive him for - how enjoyable it was to journey together... not for the wealth they accumulated, but simply to spread the goddess' will across the land. The pilgrim agreed with the priest.
However, Teira did not forget that first city he visited and made his home in, Whiterun (based off of Edras/Rohan!!!). Particularly, there was an assassin-for-hire (also Dark Elf) named Jenassa... who he did hire to adventure with him, and who could be just a tad creepy ("I am the shadow at your back . . . so many dark corners here to hide and strike from!"), but who also hid a surprisingly sensitive heart ("We're one and the same, you and I. I'm glad to have met you"). As he embarked on a specific quest with Erandur to answer prayers made to the goddess by various troubled couples, Teira's own heart was kindled by her memory... but first he had his own troubles to endure.
He would solve the problem of those High Elf agents organizing his downfall, by joining the rebel Stormcloaks in liberating Skyrim from the Empire who would allow elven persecutors. This would begin by destroying the gates of Whiterun itself, decimating its guard force, and dueling its loyalist (but noble) Jarl Balgruuf in his own palace. This was a fate Teira could never avoid... but he wished to spare Jenassa, who had also recently arrived to work in Whiterun, from the lasting reproach that comes with storming a city in blood and fire.
So he had Erandur reveal to her how he escaped capture, but said no more, waiting against his own desire to share adventures with her. Teira reluctantly set off to the coldest and snowiest city, Windhelm, to swear loyalty to Ulfric Stormcloak as the true High King of an independent Skyrim. That said, he still recognized and spoke against how the Stormcloaks and their supporters so often pair piety with a distrust toward foreigners (most of all Dark Elves, who the previous two friends have already established as thoroughly awesome! >:( ). So Teira spent his days in a careful tension-- fighting for the protection of Nordic traditions, yet challenging these sons and daughters of Skyrim to also honor the culture of refugees dwelling in their land for the same reason.
As for the day Teira finally returned to attack Whiterun, it was Lydia the housecarl (a Nordic warrior/bodyguard) who fought by his side... for she was assigned to the dragonborn by Jarl Balgruuf who long before appointed him Whiterun's thane; her duty double required her to attend her city and her charge. Afterward, Teira rewarded Lydia with a position in the reborn order of dragon hunters known as the Blades (conveniently releasing her from constant surveillance of her thane). Following three days of repairing damages and mourning the dead, Teira passed once more through the city gates, yet in peace with forgiving praise by many citizens who remembered his works of justice... and on that day he had no hesitation in asking Jenassa to journey again alongside him.
At length and with many more acts of valor, together they uncovered an ancient weapon-- a shout of dreadful power, ripping dragons from the sky and rooting them unto the earth. It was even a dragon who guided the heroes toward this revelation. Parthurnaax, who dwelt atop Skyrim's highest mountain and taught a fellowship of monks to harness the voice while striving for balance (himself knowing the effort required to tame the hunger for power). Teira chose to honor that old dragon and that philosophy of restraint, for he would not obey the later urging of his advisors in the Blades, to slay Parthurnaax for his war crimes of a former age... and even in exercising that secret shout against dragonkind, it was only used in times of great need where nearby civilians might get hurt, otherwise Teira would allow his opponents their advantage of flight and counter with bow and arrow only.
Then on Solstheim, the theme of temptation echoes again. Another dragonborn preserved from a distant era, Miraak the Traitor, plots domination from the safety of Apocrypha-- the dimension belonging to Hermaeus Mora, the dark spirit of knowledge, secrets, and fate. Once more, Teira overcomes... yet only through attaining the same path of power through delving into that same realm (represented as passages through colossal pillars, towers, and tunnels of books amidst a green-black sea filled with writhing tentacles [can you believe that I actually kind of like it there for the book parts?]). To enter Apocrypha, one must pick up one of Hermaus Mora's books, open it, and allow chains and tendrils from its pages to engulf face and neck (as Jenassa protests while helplessly watching "I can't believe you do that on purpose!"), leaving only a spectral shadow of the reader for however long his spirit wanders its endless hall. It is an endeavor which plunges so many weaker minds to insanity and bends even the strongest wills to become tyrants.
But not Teira the Pilgrim. He obtains knowledge, but evades its snare that would either hold him captive or release him as a rabid monster. Why? Because all these reasons, I suppose-- he wasn't a master of any one force to begin with, but a broad learner; he didn't scorn the plight of the poor and oppressed, but gave his Voice for theirs and only through deliberation intervened in Skyrim's politics; he wouldn't live for slaying dragons or saving a country as ultimate, but valued true friendship as a part of his mission.
Six times over, Teira read the black books and emerged, both sane and himself. Now with the darkness of Solstheim exposed and a season of peace for the mainland purchased, the Pilgrim again returns to Skyrim and King Ulfric, ready to settle that civil war... yet also with an unbroken resolve to (in some limited sense) settle at home and (in the fullest sense) call an orphan girl his daughter.
---
That's what I like. As I read so many books, seeking knowledge of history, culture, and theology... I feel like I'm wandering in Apocrypha. Sometimes, I return with nuggets of helpful insight, but often it feels more maddening and leaves me disillusioned. Will I ever translate this knowledge into practical action? What do I hold onto when learning only illuminates a past of confusion and future of uncertainty?
I'm encouraged to view Teira's story with this much imagination, character development, and reflective introspection. I don't know all the answers for which views in Church history are most right, and I'm also unsure of exactly where I should focus my long-term missions ministry... yet I know One who holds all answers and daily guides me. So I'll take sides when absolutely necessary, but still consider the tension of double-sided truths, and devote all pursuit of knowledge toward the end of reciprocating divine love.
I know the One who holds all answers and daily guides this pilgrim. That's enough.
This was no surprise. A true peace was never achieved, only temporary cease-fire of a kingdom still divided (while an aggressive elven regime watched and schemed, eager to invade if they remained in that splintered state). What Teira did realize, however, is that as prophesied dragonborn and famed dragonslayer, he would be coveted by each side as a mascot to justify their renewed hostilities.
So Teira fled by boat in the night, seeking refuge in the obscure northern island of Solstheim (a secondary setting added to the game in an expansion, with its own independent storyline). He knew this was only delaying the inevitable... for even if the Imperial and Stormcloak armies postponed their campaign during the dragonborn's absence, his strength alone could bring war to finality with the least amount of bloodshed.
Yet my character is more than a mere dragonslayer (though I initially replayed this game to assume that exact aspect), and his virtue is other than sheer strength. This lesson, learned through Teira's solitude on the island, is the subject I mainly desire to record and reflect on right now. It's like a personal parable embedded into the open world epic of Skyrim... only everything else above was added into the game's plot by my own imagination, whereas this is a thoughtfully woven theme I scarcely realized and attribute to God.
---
To begin with, Teira has been something of an anomaly among my fictional avatars because of the class I selected: Pilgrim. Despite my smiling, sensitive, and peaceful self in reality, I (for whatever partly misled, peer-conditioned reason) tend to fantasize of a battle-mage or nightblade grim, aloof, and deadly.
A Pilgrim is not those things-- his skills are evenly split between defensive magics, subtle craftiness, and clever swashbuckling; his advantage found in being a dynamic learner (mechanically, this is represented in the game by his health, stamina, and magicka reserves gradually increasing as I read in-game books). So at times, Teira can avoid violence through gentle persuasion or mercifully sparing a yielding opponent... but for all other frequent occasions of conflict, Teira succeeds through creating his own enchanted equipment beforehand, then patiently wearing down larger opponents with the bow, shield, and spells.
I like this, for it's easier to relate with personally, and fits the Biblical concept of an unlikely warrior used by God in his weakness.
Next, I look at how this concept plays into his choices and mission, first with side quests, displaying the virtue of humility. Teira needs no reminder that he is the dragonborn-- a legendary messianic figure who alone can permanently kill dragons. This is true, and yet the Pilgrim isn't above retrieving an old heirloom, delivering a letter, or even playing tag with children.
I actually made it a point to put off fulfilling Teira's epic destiny (for a reasonable time), in order to be a servant-leader and tarry in one town at a time. Neither grand skill nor ominous fate is what makes him a hero then; it's just that he's an outsider entering into their community, compassionate to listen to their struggles, and willing to act on their behalf even in small ways.
I like this too. It hits close to home (pun!), because of my own decision to be a missionary in my city, even while knowing the epic global calling of Christ's ministry and Japan as one specific destination for me.
Finally, as Teira progresses from uplifting a city to defending Skyrim's future as a whole, I see that humility evolve into something greater-- charity. How easy it would have been for him to instead develop cynicism and vengefulness... from the costly complexities of civil war, bitter racism of the rebel Nords, overlooked religious persecution under Imperial government, and threats to his life from elven conspirators without any refuge. Moreover, as a man born with the soul of a dragon, grasping for power is in his very nature and can descend into corruption.
Against all this, Teira only grew in love and self-control.
Being hunted like a beast forced him into hiding away, effectively banished from the city he first settled in... but then he met a Dark Elf and great friend named Erandur-- a former worshiper of the evil spirit behind nightmares, now a repentant priest of the goddess of love and compassion. Teira learned much wisdom from Erandur, in addition to receiving instrumental help as the latter disguised himself as one of the High Elf agents, as if Teira has been taken captive (but in reality giving him freedom). After their first quest together, they traveled through Skyrim doing good deeds. Erandur would comment - when not musing on his lack of a real childhood, or the atrocities of his past he prays the goddess will one day forgive him for - how enjoyable it was to journey together... not for the wealth they accumulated, but simply to spread the goddess' will across the land. The pilgrim agreed with the priest.
However, Teira did not forget that first city he visited and made his home in, Whiterun (based off of Edras/Rohan!!!). Particularly, there was an assassin-for-hire (also Dark Elf) named Jenassa... who he did hire to adventure with him, and who could be just a tad creepy ("I am the shadow at your back . . . so many dark corners here to hide and strike from!"), but who also hid a surprisingly sensitive heart ("We're one and the same, you and I. I'm glad to have met you"). As he embarked on a specific quest with Erandur to answer prayers made to the goddess by various troubled couples, Teira's own heart was kindled by her memory... but first he had his own troubles to endure.
He would solve the problem of those High Elf agents organizing his downfall, by joining the rebel Stormcloaks in liberating Skyrim from the Empire who would allow elven persecutors. This would begin by destroying the gates of Whiterun itself, decimating its guard force, and dueling its loyalist (but noble) Jarl Balgruuf in his own palace. This was a fate Teira could never avoid... but he wished to spare Jenassa, who had also recently arrived to work in Whiterun, from the lasting reproach that comes with storming a city in blood and fire.
So he had Erandur reveal to her how he escaped capture, but said no more, waiting against his own desire to share adventures with her. Teira reluctantly set off to the coldest and snowiest city, Windhelm, to swear loyalty to Ulfric Stormcloak as the true High King of an independent Skyrim. That said, he still recognized and spoke against how the Stormcloaks and their supporters so often pair piety with a distrust toward foreigners (most of all Dark Elves, who the previous two friends have already established as thoroughly awesome! >:( ). So Teira spent his days in a careful tension-- fighting for the protection of Nordic traditions, yet challenging these sons and daughters of Skyrim to also honor the culture of refugees dwelling in their land for the same reason.
As for the day Teira finally returned to attack Whiterun, it was Lydia the housecarl (a Nordic warrior/bodyguard) who fought by his side... for she was assigned to the dragonborn by Jarl Balgruuf who long before appointed him Whiterun's thane; her duty double required her to attend her city and her charge. Afterward, Teira rewarded Lydia with a position in the reborn order of dragon hunters known as the Blades (conveniently releasing her from constant surveillance of her thane). Following three days of repairing damages and mourning the dead, Teira passed once more through the city gates, yet in peace with forgiving praise by many citizens who remembered his works of justice... and on that day he had no hesitation in asking Jenassa to journey again alongside him.
At length and with many more acts of valor, together they uncovered an ancient weapon-- a shout of dreadful power, ripping dragons from the sky and rooting them unto the earth. It was even a dragon who guided the heroes toward this revelation. Parthurnaax, who dwelt atop Skyrim's highest mountain and taught a fellowship of monks to harness the voice while striving for balance (himself knowing the effort required to tame the hunger for power). Teira chose to honor that old dragon and that philosophy of restraint, for he would not obey the later urging of his advisors in the Blades, to slay Parthurnaax for his war crimes of a former age... and even in exercising that secret shout against dragonkind, it was only used in times of great need where nearby civilians might get hurt, otherwise Teira would allow his opponents their advantage of flight and counter with bow and arrow only.
Then on Solstheim, the theme of temptation echoes again. Another dragonborn preserved from a distant era, Miraak the Traitor, plots domination from the safety of Apocrypha-- the dimension belonging to Hermaeus Mora, the dark spirit of knowledge, secrets, and fate. Once more, Teira overcomes... yet only through attaining the same path of power through delving into that same realm (represented as passages through colossal pillars, towers, and tunnels of books amidst a green-black sea filled with writhing tentacles [can you believe that I actually kind of like it there for the book parts?]). To enter Apocrypha, one must pick up one of Hermaus Mora's books, open it, and allow chains and tendrils from its pages to engulf face and neck (as Jenassa protests while helplessly watching "I can't believe you do that on purpose!"), leaving only a spectral shadow of the reader for however long his spirit wanders its endless hall. It is an endeavor which plunges so many weaker minds to insanity and bends even the strongest wills to become tyrants.
But not Teira the Pilgrim. He obtains knowledge, but evades its snare that would either hold him captive or release him as a rabid monster. Why? Because all these reasons, I suppose-- he wasn't a master of any one force to begin with, but a broad learner; he didn't scorn the plight of the poor and oppressed, but gave his Voice for theirs and only through deliberation intervened in Skyrim's politics; he wouldn't live for slaying dragons or saving a country as ultimate, but valued true friendship as a part of his mission.
Six times over, Teira read the black books and emerged, both sane and himself. Now with the darkness of Solstheim exposed and a season of peace for the mainland purchased, the Pilgrim again returns to Skyrim and King Ulfric, ready to settle that civil war... yet also with an unbroken resolve to (in some limited sense) settle at home and (in the fullest sense) call an orphan girl his daughter.
---
That's what I like. As I read so many books, seeking knowledge of history, culture, and theology... I feel like I'm wandering in Apocrypha. Sometimes, I return with nuggets of helpful insight, but often it feels more maddening and leaves me disillusioned. Will I ever translate this knowledge into practical action? What do I hold onto when learning only illuminates a past of confusion and future of uncertainty?
I'm encouraged to view Teira's story with this much imagination, character development, and reflective introspection. I don't know all the answers for which views in Church history are most right, and I'm also unsure of exactly where I should focus my long-term missions ministry... yet I know One who holds all answers and daily guides me. So I'll take sides when absolutely necessary, but still consider the tension of double-sided truths, and devote all pursuit of knowledge toward the end of reciprocating divine love.
I know the One who holds all answers and daily guides this pilgrim. That's enough.
Friday, November 18, 2016
Didasko: Observing Regeneration
- God does it, by the Holy Spirit, not us (either the sincere convert or the determined evangelist). Soli Deo gloria.
- Therefore, no human holds an advantage; whether born into a Christian family, living through humbling circumstances, or having the intellect/temperament that spurs a pursuit of philosophic truth... it's still a covert operation of the Spirit changing a person who would otherwise be a blind rebel.
- Accordingly, my own assessment of a person's spiritual receptiveness doesn't mean much. If I was among a room of many potential believers in need of the Gospel, then it might affect my priority in a triage sort of way. Otherwise, there's always hope for demographics and attitudes ranging from a Simon Peter, to Matthew, to a Nicodemus, to Saul of Tarsus... so I should just share good news along with a continual reminder that it includes power to rightly respond.
- This means that as believers, regeneration is already realized in us! (New birth, new creation, softened hearts to obey, etc.) I find this neat because as my friends over this summer taught it - not using the doctrinal term regeneration but citing those same verses - it's something we technically possess in our spirit, but it is only fully lived out in a life of perfect joy and health and victory against sin (sounding more like sanctification). While there is something to be said for living in light of how God sees us and spiritually renews us, the traditional view of regeneration puts the main context back on our grace-given ability to even understand we're sinners and cling to Jesus' redemption (something the Christian Church universally understands and is impacted in the heart by... whereas the teaching I was confronted with seemed widely obscured and primarily worked as a mental carrot-on-a-stick for holiness).
- Of course, that also means it hinges on whether God has elected that person before time, yet in the Bible I see ministers always assuming the best and simply commanding hearers to believe and repent. In the long-term of ministry with individuals, I suppose it might be a place where I would just have to communicate with God on who I should invest in. I thank the Lord that He crafted my own story to relate with rebels, and gives our church family literal vision to work with discouraging people.
-Lastly, I am left with a question. Regeneration, a doctrine championed by Reformed/Calvinist traditions who emphasize God's sovereignty above all else, promises that the inherent power of the Gospel and Holy Spirit will produce faith and repentance. How then, shall we understand those people who seem to believe and respond, but later doubt and walk away? Jesus' parable of seeds and soil, combined with this teaching, appears to depict opposing forces ultimately extinguishing that tiny vessel of new life... and what I've learned of Acts and Paul's letters shows that unrepentant sin and disbelief clouds whether you are saved at all and has potential to carry you towards hell.
Should I:
A)ssume they did receive regeneration, but warn them against choking it through forgetfulness of God's gift and free will dulling the conscience, or...
B)elieve they did not yet receive regeneration, only an appearance of it by their conflicted motives and a cheaply explained "raise your hand for heaven" churchianity.
It would be tempting to C)ompromise both approaches, conceding the need to diagnose one spiritual condition or the other, and balancing a message of encouragement and conviction somewhere between. Yet I consider it of strategic importance that the two distinct possibilities remain clear (if not for my comprehension, then for the person ministered to), if they need to cast their souls upon God's mercy for the first time as helpless sinners, or else reflect back and recover how He already brought about spiritual sensitivity. So if the fourth option is D)o nothing, I'll add a fifth:
E)xplain both distinct possibilities, with their unique challenges, as conditions which can be tested for through the evidence of faith (personal trust and religious belief) and repentance (true sorrow combined with a changed will). Regardless of how they act in the present (even if they are generally moral, church-going people) looking for these signs surrounding their conversion should provide an answer as they are honest and we can process it together.
...well, that's really only my initial thoughts from researching this doctrine. I've yet to search answers for its practical application in ministry, or seek counsel of friends, so I'm going to wait and see how I can refine it further. I just worry that - while my questioning seems to put emphasis back on human will and contrasting from God's sovereignty - leaving the two different conditions as mysteries is effectively pushing the reality of regeneration into theoretical abstraction, and is a missed opportunity to prayerfully depend on God for guidance and wisdom to minister.
Shai Linne, Lyrical Theology, "Regeneration" (feat. Alistair Begg...?)
- Therefore, no human holds an advantage; whether born into a Christian family, living through humbling circumstances, or having the intellect/temperament that spurs a pursuit of philosophic truth... it's still a covert operation of the Spirit changing a person who would otherwise be a blind rebel.
- Accordingly, my own assessment of a person's spiritual receptiveness doesn't mean much. If I was among a room of many potential believers in need of the Gospel, then it might affect my priority in a triage sort of way. Otherwise, there's always hope for demographics and attitudes ranging from a Simon Peter, to Matthew, to a Nicodemus, to Saul of Tarsus... so I should just share good news along with a continual reminder that it includes power to rightly respond.
- This means that as believers, regeneration is already realized in us! (New birth, new creation, softened hearts to obey, etc.) I find this neat because as my friends over this summer taught it - not using the doctrinal term regeneration but citing those same verses - it's something we technically possess in our spirit, but it is only fully lived out in a life of perfect joy and health and victory against sin (sounding more like sanctification). While there is something to be said for living in light of how God sees us and spiritually renews us, the traditional view of regeneration puts the main context back on our grace-given ability to even understand we're sinners and cling to Jesus' redemption (something the Christian Church universally understands and is impacted in the heart by... whereas the teaching I was confronted with seemed widely obscured and primarily worked as a mental carrot-on-a-stick for holiness).
- Of course, that also means it hinges on whether God has elected that person before time, yet in the Bible I see ministers always assuming the best and simply commanding hearers to believe and repent. In the long-term of ministry with individuals, I suppose it might be a place where I would just have to communicate with God on who I should invest in. I thank the Lord that He crafted my own story to relate with rebels, and gives our church family literal vision to work with discouraging people.
-Lastly, I am left with a question. Regeneration, a doctrine championed by Reformed/Calvinist traditions who emphasize God's sovereignty above all else, promises that the inherent power of the Gospel and Holy Spirit will produce faith and repentance. How then, shall we understand those people who seem to believe and respond, but later doubt and walk away? Jesus' parable of seeds and soil, combined with this teaching, appears to depict opposing forces ultimately extinguishing that tiny vessel of new life... and what I've learned of Acts and Paul's letters shows that unrepentant sin and disbelief clouds whether you are saved at all and has potential to carry you towards hell.
Should I:
A)ssume they did receive regeneration, but warn them against choking it through forgetfulness of God's gift and free will dulling the conscience, or...
B)elieve they did not yet receive regeneration, only an appearance of it by their conflicted motives and a cheaply explained "raise your hand for heaven" churchianity.
It would be tempting to C)ompromise both approaches, conceding the need to diagnose one spiritual condition or the other, and balancing a message of encouragement and conviction somewhere between. Yet I consider it of strategic importance that the two distinct possibilities remain clear (if not for my comprehension, then for the person ministered to), if they need to cast their souls upon God's mercy for the first time as helpless sinners, or else reflect back and recover how He already brought about spiritual sensitivity. So if the fourth option is D)o nothing, I'll add a fifth:
E)xplain both distinct possibilities, with their unique challenges, as conditions which can be tested for through the evidence of faith (personal trust and religious belief) and repentance (true sorrow combined with a changed will). Regardless of how they act in the present (even if they are generally moral, church-going people) looking for these signs surrounding their conversion should provide an answer as they are honest and we can process it together.
...well, that's really only my initial thoughts from researching this doctrine. I've yet to search answers for its practical application in ministry, or seek counsel of friends, so I'm going to wait and see how I can refine it further. I just worry that - while my questioning seems to put emphasis back on human will and contrasting from God's sovereignty - leaving the two different conditions as mysteries is effectively pushing the reality of regeneration into theoretical abstraction, and is a missed opportunity to prayerfully depend on God for guidance and wisdom to minister.
Shai Linne, Lyrical Theology, "Regeneration" (feat. Alistair Begg...?)
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Didasko: We're Both Wrong
Regarding what I've learned and wrestled with since this summer:
Saying "we're both right" could be a more positive spin on the same observations. Certainly, it would fit my preference for "yes and no" wisdom nuggets.
This time, however, my inner doubtful critic is prevailing over the diplomat-philosopher. I think our mutual illumination of inherent wrongness - differently expressed yet equally shared - is the most important insight eventually leading to positive things.
Some context: Though I chose against setting my alarm, I still managed to wake in time to attend yesterday's church staff meeting... and was very glad I did. Our "New City Catechism" video discussed the Ten Commandments and our inability to ever perfectly follow them, contrasted with Jesus' complete obedience in our place. Simple enough... but it sparked further conversation, and I even received a concrete answer to the question: are we as Christians still sinners?
Now, back to what I have to say to my teachers on the field:
You really were my teachers this summer; though I'm calling you "wrong" in this virtually private blog entry, my prayer is that the Lord is the one to guide and correct you in reality. I trust that He led me to be your student in all wisdom, and that honor is due for this unique opportunity to learn.
You claimed that you had a unique message (new creation/identity), which was the full gospel whereas you assumed that many of our churches had reduced it through guilt, complacency, and a "spirit of dead religion." I did not let offense (which you also call an evil spirit) take over my thinking, but tried to trust and consider your words. In fact, I genuinely wanted to. I had full confidence in God's leading to train with your organization, great respect for the supernatural signs following your ministry, and a serious determination to bring back any neglected aspect of the Gospel to my church family.
You said this is embracing the kingdom of heaven in its fullness (within our spirit) now, recognizing God's superiority over any influence of sin, and intuitively walking into the life of holiness Jesus bought for us. Who wouldn't want that?
...you didn't say very much about the kingdom of heaven consummated and eternally established. If you did, it was about the sensational events leading up to the end times. According to your book, this would be a revealing of our already-perfect spiritual likeness to Jesus, but you didn't say it was actually bringing anything new to our experience.
...you didn't take into account that part of our God's awesome might is not just to purge sin through His presence, but to work redemptively through mankind even while in a fallen state. You tried to emphasize His strength and minimize the presence of sin, but why do you even feel the need to artificially do that and box Him into our binary reasoning?
...you didn't clarify the means of holy living. Here we actually disagree the least: God gives us ability to escape temptation and live as slaves to righteousness. That said, it was only for a one-week class that you taught us Christian ethics of continually striving for excellence and crucifying sin... but then for the rest of 3 months you taught that this is instant and intuitive, only requiring that we realize our sinless spiritual identity.
You - who I love and value - have still taught some very strange things. You nullified the need for future fulfillment and a King who wipes away tears by falsely claiming heaven as your present experience. You supposedly identify the Spirit's sanctification over the body's shortcomings... yet in bitter irony, you pedestal your mind's attitude as what sets you apart from other believers and enables holy living. You confused confidence in our justified position and empowered indwelling with decrease of ourselves and magnification of our God leading to repentance.
But here is where I will turn on my own faults, because even if I feel like my side is more intellectually in the right, we too fall into a wrong heart and application of truth.
(I promise you, though I will critique myself in less words, that this took far more effort and honesty on my part than stopping short at "well, God led me to you so I could learn to work with different believers and balance my own theology [but not be corrected of any fundamental error].")
If my charge is that you are like an ancient Sadducee, unrealistic in your optimism of this life, irrational with your spirit/body dichotomy, and functionally elitist in your understanding that others lack... then I'm a modern Pharisee-- discouragingly somber in my view of the present day, personally dishonest to the spiritual standard I defend, and arrogant in my own doctrinal superiority.
(I don't say this just because I began this post by criticizing those with a different view; there's no small amount of careful thought and discussion behind all the thoughts of this entry... and my ordering is actually intentional, so that I rebuke my own default position as the final word. Rather, I'm referencing that my thinking was unduly defensive - and my gut instinctively uneasy - toward fellow believers who see differently in this regard, long before this post or the last summer.)
Again, I can put it in far less words, yet no less scathingly. You deny that sin's influence is there, thus allowing it a subtle foothold. I recognize that sin's influence is within me as a real problem... but I far too easily let it seize some corner of my life, excusing this disobedience on the basis that "no one is perfect" and "this way I remember I need Jesus."
You were partly right in calling out my complacency, then. Rather than perpetually writing how I'm more theologically correct about how wrong (sinful) our nature is, I need to partner with you in honoring the Lord's sacrifice with a life of worship and gratitude.
Yet I will add that just as I need you, you too need us. Whether you look at the Bible's words in Hebrew or Greek, there are twin words for repenting-- to feel regret (nacham / metamelomai) or to be separate and changed (shüv / metanoeō). As many Christians have learned in our generation, repentance is more than just feeling bad and saying you're sorry... but then again, the role of godly sorrow is by no means less valuable than action itself.
I know people who felt incredibly frustrated over and over with their hypocritical imperfection, but were no less transformed by the Lord toward spiritual maturity and good works. Perhaps they accelerated in that direction even moreso, due to their unforgettable dependency on Him.
By claiming there is no longer any sin nature within you and that any sinful action is only an aberration of your true identity, you save face before the King. He already paid for it and forgave us, true, yet your stoic self-reminder of this fact without any time for grieving should alarm you, just as my rationalization for its source in my inbetween-state of humanity should never be a place of stagnation.
Instead, you can help by lifting up me and others like me, to actually do something about it. If you let me, I can help you examine our simultaneous condition as saints and sinners before an infinitely big, loving, and able God. Together, we could accomplish a whole lot for His invading kingdom in this world, while also keeping humble hearts which don't burn out, and can serve alongside the myriad of church traditions desperately needing a bridge back into our shared mission and Biblical foundation.
That's what I'm hoping and praying for. We may or may not work together personally on it, but I definitely desire to honor your lessons and our time teaming up together by making this happen more in this universal Church we belong to.
And now I set aside my proverbial pen, to either trade it with putting my hands to the plow or dip into metaphorical ink for some other subject. Actually, as my articulate thoughts taper off and I halfheartedly attempt a conclusion, I feel urgently compelled to craft these ideas into the form of stories, for a seldom-listening world that desperately needs fresh parables.
Saying "we're both right" could be a more positive spin on the same observations. Certainly, it would fit my preference for "yes and no" wisdom nuggets.
This time, however, my inner doubtful critic is prevailing over the diplomat-philosopher. I think our mutual illumination of inherent wrongness - differently expressed yet equally shared - is the most important insight eventually leading to positive things.
Some context: Though I chose against setting my alarm, I still managed to wake in time to attend yesterday's church staff meeting... and was very glad I did. Our "New City Catechism" video discussed the Ten Commandments and our inability to ever perfectly follow them, contrasted with Jesus' complete obedience in our place. Simple enough... but it sparked further conversation, and I even received a concrete answer to the question: are we as Christians still sinners?
Now, back to what I have to say to my teachers on the field:
You really were my teachers this summer; though I'm calling you "wrong" in this virtually private blog entry, my prayer is that the Lord is the one to guide and correct you in reality. I trust that He led me to be your student in all wisdom, and that honor is due for this unique opportunity to learn.
You claimed that you had a unique message (new creation/identity), which was the full gospel whereas you assumed that many of our churches had reduced it through guilt, complacency, and a "spirit of dead religion." I did not let offense (which you also call an evil spirit) take over my thinking, but tried to trust and consider your words. In fact, I genuinely wanted to. I had full confidence in God's leading to train with your organization, great respect for the supernatural signs following your ministry, and a serious determination to bring back any neglected aspect of the Gospel to my church family.
You said this is embracing the kingdom of heaven in its fullness (within our spirit) now, recognizing God's superiority over any influence of sin, and intuitively walking into the life of holiness Jesus bought for us. Who wouldn't want that?
...you didn't say very much about the kingdom of heaven consummated and eternally established. If you did, it was about the sensational events leading up to the end times. According to your book, this would be a revealing of our already-perfect spiritual likeness to Jesus, but you didn't say it was actually bringing anything new to our experience.
...you didn't take into account that part of our God's awesome might is not just to purge sin through His presence, but to work redemptively through mankind even while in a fallen state. You tried to emphasize His strength and minimize the presence of sin, but why do you even feel the need to artificially do that and box Him into our binary reasoning?
...you didn't clarify the means of holy living. Here we actually disagree the least: God gives us ability to escape temptation and live as slaves to righteousness. That said, it was only for a one-week class that you taught us Christian ethics of continually striving for excellence and crucifying sin... but then for the rest of 3 months you taught that this is instant and intuitive, only requiring that we realize our sinless spiritual identity.
You - who I love and value - have still taught some very strange things. You nullified the need for future fulfillment and a King who wipes away tears by falsely claiming heaven as your present experience. You supposedly identify the Spirit's sanctification over the body's shortcomings... yet in bitter irony, you pedestal your mind's attitude as what sets you apart from other believers and enables holy living. You confused confidence in our justified position and empowered indwelling with decrease of ourselves and magnification of our God leading to repentance.
But here is where I will turn on my own faults, because even if I feel like my side is more intellectually in the right, we too fall into a wrong heart and application of truth.
(I promise you, though I will critique myself in less words, that this took far more effort and honesty on my part than stopping short at "well, God led me to you so I could learn to work with different believers and balance my own theology [but not be corrected of any fundamental error].")
If my charge is that you are like an ancient Sadducee, unrealistic in your optimism of this life, irrational with your spirit/body dichotomy, and functionally elitist in your understanding that others lack... then I'm a modern Pharisee-- discouragingly somber in my view of the present day, personally dishonest to the spiritual standard I defend, and arrogant in my own doctrinal superiority.
(I don't say this just because I began this post by criticizing those with a different view; there's no small amount of careful thought and discussion behind all the thoughts of this entry... and my ordering is actually intentional, so that I rebuke my own default position as the final word. Rather, I'm referencing that my thinking was unduly defensive - and my gut instinctively uneasy - toward fellow believers who see differently in this regard, long before this post or the last summer.)
Again, I can put it in far less words, yet no less scathingly. You deny that sin's influence is there, thus allowing it a subtle foothold. I recognize that sin's influence is within me as a real problem... but I far too easily let it seize some corner of my life, excusing this disobedience on the basis that "no one is perfect" and "this way I remember I need Jesus."
You were partly right in calling out my complacency, then. Rather than perpetually writing how I'm more theologically correct about how wrong (sinful) our nature is, I need to partner with you in honoring the Lord's sacrifice with a life of worship and gratitude.
Yet I will add that just as I need you, you too need us. Whether you look at the Bible's words in Hebrew or Greek, there are twin words for repenting-- to feel regret (nacham / metamelomai) or to be separate and changed (shüv / metanoeō). As many Christians have learned in our generation, repentance is more than just feeling bad and saying you're sorry... but then again, the role of godly sorrow is by no means less valuable than action itself.
I know people who felt incredibly frustrated over and over with their hypocritical imperfection, but were no less transformed by the Lord toward spiritual maturity and good works. Perhaps they accelerated in that direction even moreso, due to their unforgettable dependency on Him.
By claiming there is no longer any sin nature within you and that any sinful action is only an aberration of your true identity, you save face before the King. He already paid for it and forgave us, true, yet your stoic self-reminder of this fact without any time for grieving should alarm you, just as my rationalization for its source in my inbetween-state of humanity should never be a place of stagnation.
Instead, you can help by lifting up me and others like me, to actually do something about it. If you let me, I can help you examine our simultaneous condition as saints and sinners before an infinitely big, loving, and able God. Together, we could accomplish a whole lot for His invading kingdom in this world, while also keeping humble hearts which don't burn out, and can serve alongside the myriad of church traditions desperately needing a bridge back into our shared mission and Biblical foundation.
That's what I'm hoping and praying for. We may or may not work together personally on it, but I definitely desire to honor your lessons and our time teaming up together by making this happen more in this universal Church we belong to.
And now I set aside my proverbial pen, to either trade it with putting my hands to the plow or dip into metaphorical ink for some other subject. Actually, as my articulate thoughts taper off and I halfheartedly attempt a conclusion, I feel urgently compelled to craft these ideas into the form of stories, for a seldom-listening world that desperately needs fresh parables.
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Talu: Aurora Road (Ode to Skyrim)
Who would name a land Skyrim?
What breed of mankind, to call horizon's end their home?
It is like a distant mirage made into an unfolding epic;
a realm entered in dreams, becoming the adventure of a lifetime
Today I walk in an alien country,
stand among mythic landscapes,
and carry the mantle of ancient hope.
Yet Yahweh was pleased to use a virtual world
like a Nordic saga, that stirred Tolkien's tales and Clive's chronicles before me,
as the haunting means that I might seek, and then cherish, something beyond.
Banners bleed red, fields washed white, corpses clad blue.
A winter of war divides sister from brother.
Do I offer my sword to Empire's armies?
Honoring those who have always ruled, and guarding a greater good,
Or am I summoned by conscience to serve the Stormcloak cause?
Respecting remembrance of their noble ways, and upholding the right to free worship.
My heart longs to cast my lot with rebels;
my soul stirs to usher in an exiled king.
What mystery, that a man once ascended to heaven.
How glorious, to stand on divine faith against all odds!
But my principles compel me to preserve order;
virtue requires a path of submission
Why liberate Nords only, when Elves are their neglected neighbors?
Who is truly pious: the violent zealot, or the gentle martyr?
No matter the allegiance I choose,
on the day of final conquest,
my spirit is torn as Skyrim's children.
Still, I embark on another new road.
Ambushes along the highway are a welcome challenge.
Clearing, cavern, and crumbling dungeon alike beckon curiosity.
With mastery of steel and spell, shadow and shout,
fear and frontier are both mine to conquer.
By aurora's lantern at night,
I emerge from the dungeon laden with treasure.
Beside kindled hearth in a storm,
I hail companions with news of a fully complete work.
A hundredfold bizarre feats, from tundra banks to forest peaks,
unceasingly whet my appetite for fresh wonder,
just as the simple delight of building home and family,
is enough for that moment to mingle restlessness with rest.
"What is better: to be born good,
or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"
A forked tongue poses the philosophical question;
my primordial foe, the dragon, testing everything I am.
Of course, my identity is that I am reborn and righteous,
this by given grace, not my own force of will.
A truly wicked core could never be quelled within.
That said, I see beauty in the broken beginning of our story;
radiance springs forth from the sorrowful song of repentance;
captivation, that the Hero bore corrupt flesh to call us all clean.
I recognize the dual truth in your words, bronze serpent.
I acknowledge your aid in averting apocalypse, again.
I even offer thanks, for this fire-proven wisdom to carry in this world and the next.
Nonetheless, my blade remains raised against your kin,
as long as they insist on deceiving my own "mortal" kind,
to believe that your brood alone is eternal, when life beyond time is in our grasp!
In Tamriel's cold north or in Asia's distant east,
as long as the people tremble, who are sealed with a Breath superior to your own,
my blade remains raised against your kin.
What breed of mankind, to call horizon's end their home?
It is like a distant mirage made into an unfolding epic;
a realm entered in dreams, becoming the adventure of a lifetime
Today I walk in an alien country,
stand among mythic landscapes,
and carry the mantle of ancient hope.
Yet Yahweh was pleased to use a virtual world
like a Nordic saga, that stirred Tolkien's tales and Clive's chronicles before me,
as the haunting means that I might seek, and then cherish, something beyond.
Banners bleed red, fields washed white, corpses clad blue.
A winter of war divides sister from brother.
Do I offer my sword to Empire's armies?
Honoring those who have always ruled, and guarding a greater good,
Or am I summoned by conscience to serve the Stormcloak cause?
Respecting remembrance of their noble ways, and upholding the right to free worship.
My heart longs to cast my lot with rebels;
my soul stirs to usher in an exiled king.
What mystery, that a man once ascended to heaven.
How glorious, to stand on divine faith against all odds!
But my principles compel me to preserve order;
virtue requires a path of submission
Why liberate Nords only, when Elves are their neglected neighbors?
Who is truly pious: the violent zealot, or the gentle martyr?
No matter the allegiance I choose,
on the day of final conquest,
my spirit is torn as Skyrim's children.
Still, I embark on another new road.
Ambushes along the highway are a welcome challenge.
Clearing, cavern, and crumbling dungeon alike beckon curiosity.
With mastery of steel and spell, shadow and shout,
fear and frontier are both mine to conquer.
By aurora's lantern at night,
I emerge from the dungeon laden with treasure.
Beside kindled hearth in a storm,
I hail companions with news of a fully complete work.
A hundredfold bizarre feats, from tundra banks to forest peaks,
unceasingly whet my appetite for fresh wonder,
just as the simple delight of building home and family,
is enough for that moment to mingle restlessness with rest.
"What is better: to be born good,
or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"
A forked tongue poses the philosophical question;
my primordial foe, the dragon, testing everything I am.
Of course, my identity is that I am reborn and righteous,
this by given grace, not my own force of will.
A truly wicked core could never be quelled within.
That said, I see beauty in the broken beginning of our story;
radiance springs forth from the sorrowful song of repentance;
captivation, that the Hero bore corrupt flesh to call us all clean.
I recognize the dual truth in your words, bronze serpent.
I acknowledge your aid in averting apocalypse, again.
I even offer thanks, for this fire-proven wisdom to carry in this world and the next.
Nonetheless, my blade remains raised against your kin,
as long as they insist on deceiving my own "mortal" kind,
to believe that your brood alone is eternal, when life beyond time is in our grasp!
In Tamriel's cold north or in Asia's distant east,
as long as the people tremble, who are sealed with a Breath superior to your own,
my blade remains raised against your kin.
Monday, June 20, 2016
Mathano: Akashi & JHT
I was ministering to a teenaged girl in Mongolia, when I noticed war was breaking out. Men launched crossbow bolts to impale one another in the distance, and battle lines brandishing their spears began to close in on us from all sides. Fortunately, I brought a car with me to the steppes.
We hastily threw ourselves into the vehicle, and events blurred until we found ourselves exiting a bus at evening time-- now in an curiously familiar urban environment, still somewhere in Asia. I turned to speak with her, but she ran beyond my sight in eagerness to take photos of the city. I approached a black American I found serving at a restaurant door, but he lost interest in the latter half of my story. I had no idea where I was or what I would do, but I walked right through that door undeterred.
Inside, the decoration was an extravagant blend of tradition European and Oriental styles. As I explored toward a back hallway, I saw rooms furnished even with couches and beds, clearly meant for a higher social status of patrons. I took the cue to seat myself toward the modest-by-comparison tables along the front window. A middle-aged man and his elderly mother sat with me. They attempted to teach me some of the local language. I tried in vain to discern the nation I was now in, thinking these were greeting phrases, but they were not.
"Akumen" and "Akashi."
I woke up from the dream, just as I was about to voice my surprise that I did not seem to be in Japan. As it turned out, when I looked up the words two days later, the second one actually is a real Japanese word that I never heard before. The first one did't result in any conclusive message, but the multiple meaningful results of the latter more than makes up for it.
As a noun, it primarily means proof, evidence, or vindication... of love or innocence, as examples. When used as a verb, it mean to testify, and specifically carries a Christian context. There's a city along the southern coast of the main island, by this name.
There was also a Christian, Japanese samurai named Akashi Takenori (surname comes first), born in 1566, who fought valorously, was pursued by enemies but never found, and refused to commit the traditional act of sicide because of his faith.
"Taylor, you are a Christian samurai...!"
"...there's a clear calling that the Lord wants to give you Asia. Go for it, man!"
It was a dream that brought me here, for the spiritual growth, practical training, and community support that's emboldened me for service in missions. Now another dream is giving me marching orders directly from my King.
With this objective in mind, I made sure when Overland Missions had a pile of unwanted books to collect everything I could related to Asia. So far it's all about China and one for Korea, which I am satisfied with for now, given their similarities of Eastern worldview and principles of packaging the Gospel. With unusual decisiveness, I settled on starting with the thickest of them all: Biography of James Hudson Taylor.
And wow. As if the dream and calling wasn't enough, now this life story of my fellow Taylor is ministering to me deeply. Also, my team took this Saturday to embark on a safari in Chobe Wildlife Park across the river in Botswana. Epic dreams, a brother in Christ I can't wait to hug in heaven-earth, and a myriad of majestic creatures in almost-Edenic tranquility. The Lord just knows how to wreck my soul in the best way with beautiful things.
...back to the book, though. I only knew he was an important early missionary to China, who pioneered the general trend of fulfilling the Great Commission not only along coastlands, but into the interior of foreign continents. What I didn't know is that, as silly as it would be to assume this just because he is a fellow Taylor, he and I have nearly identical spiritual experiences.
Born in a devout Christian household with all the outward disciplines as an inheritance, but by the time of adolescence with peer pressure, now inwardly festering with doubt and devoid of joy. Until at the age of seventeen, with the relentless kindness and intercession of others exposing a weakness, sudden comprehension of Jesus' complete grace flooded in.
Thereafter, trials remained, but both Taylor's have been carried and strengthened through these from faith to faith, and glory to glory. We realized eventually that our own effort is insufficient to overcome the influence of sin, though this is the exact deliverance promised to be finished and all-immersing. As we had nothing else to do except surrender, the Holy Spirit gave us a renewed hearts... not only to desire holiness, but to yearn for sharing our faith with the lost in other nations. And lastly, we have in common that romantic hopes were nurtured over years as we thought was God's provision for ministry, and then promptly crushed as a telling trial to trust His infinite goodness.
Recovering and redirecting from this emotional blow, He and I learned to know God as a true source of comfort and protection. For me, it's involved fundraising for seven-thousand quickly-provided dollars, with the commitment of venturing to another country for three months in community, among what turned out to be a substantially different doctrinal atmosphere (for better and worse). For Hudson, it looked like renting a cramped room in a slum neighborhood with meager porridge meals to maximize savings for China, giving away all that's left to the poor in need without ever reminding his employer for the overdue salary (instead, he only prays for God to bring remembrance), and eventually relocating himself to the metropolis of London though all his plans for lodging, medical school, and missions service were consistently uncertain. In either scenario, parallel character traits and nuggets of wisdom were developed.
It was soon after that step, believing the Bible's words that he need not worry for anything and will surely live in the land God gives, that Hudson was ready in faith and faithfulness to launch into China. He endured months of sea voyage with close calls for shipwrecks in a storm. He finally set foot on this land in the midst of a brutal civil war, but suffered loneliness, uncertainty of funds, and embarrassment for his dependent state upon a different missionary organization he had trouble relating with... but he was there, and learning language, and and a couple was on their way ch
For me, I wonder when that step will come, what my team will look like, and whether I'll be landing first in Japan, Mongolia, or Cambodia. All I know is that I closely relate with J. Hudson Taylor's journey and insights. I'm feeling inclined to simply return home, devote myself more fully to immediate ministry, and see if opportunities and counsel arise to guide me into missions in Asia - totally apart from my own planning - with the only initiative on my part being stewardship of relationships and walking forward unbound within active faith.
We hastily threw ourselves into the vehicle, and events blurred until we found ourselves exiting a bus at evening time-- now in an curiously familiar urban environment, still somewhere in Asia. I turned to speak with her, but she ran beyond my sight in eagerness to take photos of the city. I approached a black American I found serving at a restaurant door, but he lost interest in the latter half of my story. I had no idea where I was or what I would do, but I walked right through that door undeterred.
Inside, the decoration was an extravagant blend of tradition European and Oriental styles. As I explored toward a back hallway, I saw rooms furnished even with couches and beds, clearly meant for a higher social status of patrons. I took the cue to seat myself toward the modest-by-comparison tables along the front window. A middle-aged man and his elderly mother sat with me. They attempted to teach me some of the local language. I tried in vain to discern the nation I was now in, thinking these were greeting phrases, but they were not.
"Akumen" and "Akashi."
I woke up from the dream, just as I was about to voice my surprise that I did not seem to be in Japan. As it turned out, when I looked up the words two days later, the second one actually is a real Japanese word that I never heard before. The first one did't result in any conclusive message, but the multiple meaningful results of the latter more than makes up for it.
As a noun, it primarily means proof, evidence, or vindication... of love or innocence, as examples. When used as a verb, it mean to testify, and specifically carries a Christian context. There's a city along the southern coast of the main island, by this name.
There was also a Christian, Japanese samurai named Akashi Takenori (surname comes first), born in 1566, who fought valorously, was pursued by enemies but never found, and refused to commit the traditional act of sicide because of his faith.
"Taylor, you are a Christian samurai...!"
"...there's a clear calling that the Lord wants to give you Asia. Go for it, man!"
It was a dream that brought me here, for the spiritual growth, practical training, and community support that's emboldened me for service in missions. Now another dream is giving me marching orders directly from my King.
With this objective in mind, I made sure when Overland Missions had a pile of unwanted books to collect everything I could related to Asia. So far it's all about China and one for Korea, which I am satisfied with for now, given their similarities of Eastern worldview and principles of packaging the Gospel. With unusual decisiveness, I settled on starting with the thickest of them all: Biography of James Hudson Taylor.
And wow. As if the dream and calling wasn't enough, now this life story of my fellow Taylor is ministering to me deeply. Also, my team took this Saturday to embark on a safari in Chobe Wildlife Park across the river in Botswana. Epic dreams, a brother in Christ I can't wait to hug in heaven-earth, and a myriad of majestic creatures in almost-Edenic tranquility. The Lord just knows how to wreck my soul in the best way with beautiful things.
...back to the book, though. I only knew he was an important early missionary to China, who pioneered the general trend of fulfilling the Great Commission not only along coastlands, but into the interior of foreign continents. What I didn't know is that, as silly as it would be to assume this just because he is a fellow Taylor, he and I have nearly identical spiritual experiences.
Born in a devout Christian household with all the outward disciplines as an inheritance, but by the time of adolescence with peer pressure, now inwardly festering with doubt and devoid of joy. Until at the age of seventeen, with the relentless kindness and intercession of others exposing a weakness, sudden comprehension of Jesus' complete grace flooded in.
Thereafter, trials remained, but both Taylor's have been carried and strengthened through these from faith to faith, and glory to glory. We realized eventually that our own effort is insufficient to overcome the influence of sin, though this is the exact deliverance promised to be finished and all-immersing. As we had nothing else to do except surrender, the Holy Spirit gave us a renewed hearts... not only to desire holiness, but to yearn for sharing our faith with the lost in other nations. And lastly, we have in common that romantic hopes were nurtured over years as we thought was God's provision for ministry, and then promptly crushed as a telling trial to trust His infinite goodness.
Recovering and redirecting from this emotional blow, He and I learned to know God as a true source of comfort and protection. For me, it's involved fundraising for seven-thousand quickly-provided dollars, with the commitment of venturing to another country for three months in community, among what turned out to be a substantially different doctrinal atmosphere (for better and worse). For Hudson, it looked like renting a cramped room in a slum neighborhood with meager porridge meals to maximize savings for China, giving away all that's left to the poor in need without ever reminding his employer for the overdue salary (instead, he only prays for God to bring remembrance), and eventually relocating himself to the metropolis of London though all his plans for lodging, medical school, and missions service were consistently uncertain. In either scenario, parallel character traits and nuggets of wisdom were developed.
It was soon after that step, believing the Bible's words that he need not worry for anything and will surely live in the land God gives, that Hudson was ready in faith and faithfulness to launch into China. He endured months of sea voyage with close calls for shipwrecks in a storm. He finally set foot on this land in the midst of a brutal civil war, but suffered loneliness, uncertainty of funds, and embarrassment for his dependent state upon a different missionary organization he had trouble relating with... but he was there, and learning language, and and a couple was on their way ch
For me, I wonder when that step will come, what my team will look like, and whether I'll be landing first in Japan, Mongolia, or Cambodia. All I know is that I closely relate with J. Hudson Taylor's journey and insights. I'm feeling inclined to simply return home, devote myself more fully to immediate ministry, and see if opportunities and counsel arise to guide me into missions in Asia - totally apart from my own planning - with the only initiative on my part being stewardship of relationships and walking forward unbound within active faith.
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