The Apostle Sully

“None of that matters now!”

That’s what Sully told Mike in the Disney film, Monsters, Inc. in which Mike and Sully are monsters who work for an energy plant, Monsters, Inc.  The plant is fueled by screams collected from children in the human world, and the energy it produces is distributed throughout the monster world.

Sully was the best scarer at Monsters, Inc., loved by monster children, prized by his monster boss, Mr. Waternoose.  Sully scared more children and collected more screams than any other monster.  He was world class.  He loved his work, and he was good at it, and knew he was doing a good thing for Monstropolis. 

He had no compassion for human children.  They were toxic, after all.  They were not to be touched, and certainly were not allowed into the monster world.  If a human child came in contact with a monster, a special team of security monsters clad in hazmat suits rapidly descended on the monster to ruthlessly and efficiently decontaminate him.  And, there was a long tradition of great scarers that he aspired to surpass.

But, all that changed when Sully met Boo, a human child with big brown eyes and an intoxicating laugh.  She turned out to be neither toxic, nor threatening, nor dangerous.  In fact, she herself needed to be rescued.  And, it seemed that only Sully recognized this.  Sully’s sidekick, Mike, was slow to see that Boo was not dangerous, and was still desperately trying to get Sully to break the all time record for collecting screams from children.  He could not understand why Sully wanted to find and rescue Boo, the very child he had previously feared, oppressed and excluded from his world.  Mike couldn't understand why Sully was giving up on the all-time scaring record just to find Boo.  Mike stammered, “None of it matters?  W-w-wait a second.  None of it matters?”  Mike felt confused, angry and betrayed.

Ultimately, Sully crusades to not only rescue Boo, but break the oppression and prejudice against human children, indicting Monsters, Inc. Chairman of the Board, Mr. Waternoose, in the process.

I see some similarities between James P. “Sully” Sullivan, and the Apostle Paul.  As Saul, the zealous Pharisee, he was prized by his bosses for his unmerciful persecution of the church.  He was world class.  He loved his work, and he was good at it, and knew he was doing a good thing for the people of Israel.

Then, he met Jesus on the road to Damascus, just as Sully had met Boo, and suddenly none of “that” mattered anymore.  Instead of persecuting the church, he protected and promoted it, just as Sully protected and promoted human children, who were no longer ‘untouchables’, but were to be embraced, which is how Paul now saw Christians.

No, the “Sulline Conversion” is not a perfect analogy for the Pauline Conversion.  But, it does make me think that at some point in our lives, we look at the things we’ve been so zealously pursuing, and we realize that “none of that matters now.”  As proof of this, if it came right down to it, what would we not trade for our child’s life?

Here, then, is the challenge:  To adopt a new perspective in which our pursuit of a comfortable lifestyle, our aspirations of career advancement, and our accumulation of precious valuables will no longer matter, but will be replaced by the greater pursuit of Him, the higher aspiration of Heaven, and the more precious accumulation of Believers.  

This new perspective was thrust upon Saul.  Yet, how difficult it is for us to willingly sacrifice a lifetime of pursuits and adopt this new perspective as we are called to do, even knowing that therein lies the greater reward.

Heliophysics

I came across a link on the NASA web site today labeled, Heliophysics.  I mentally parsed the word and reasoned that it must refer to the physics of the sun.  Before clicking that button, I contemplated whether or not the content behind that link would be interesting to me. 

The sun, of course, can be quite exciting to study.  It has hot regions and cold regions (if you can call them that).  It spontaneously ejects jets of plasma into space.  It has things like a solar wind, a sunspot cycle, and electromagnetic events that cause frustrated, oblivious Earthlings to repeatedly poke at the touch screens of their smart phones and curse their carriers. 

So, I sat there staring at the Heliophysics button, considering the reality that there is an ancient, yet perpetual nuclear explosion that is 1.3 million times bigger than the Earth, that is contained only by its own gravity, that is erupting a mere 8 light minutes from me, and from which I am protected only by the Earth’s magnetic core, a thin layer of atmosphere, and a generous slathering of Coppertone™.  I reasoned, therefore, that the study of the sun could, in fact, be quite exciting.

As my mouse pointer drew close to Heliophysics, another thought occurred to me that made me pause.

I have found that, in the study of my Bible, I am often trapped by the study of the written words, extricating ancient, yet perpetual truths from reinterpreted texts written only a few millennia ago.  (As I grow older, a thousand years seems less like ancient history and more like “just before the cowboy days,” which were practically just yesterday.)  This in-depth, eugenical investigation of words and origins can distract me from the Bible’s real meaning.  Each inspired syllable seems to deserve its own investigation, and so I consider the word and cross-reference it and Google it and effectively lose the meaning of the sentence for the sake of the definition of the word. 

It’s as if I've decided to study the forest, and I start with the forest floor and dig deeper and deeper and suddenly realize that I’m studying a hole I've dug for myself, and I no longer see the forest.

I think that in-depth Bible study is vital.  The closer we can get to the original meaning of the written word, the better we can understand the true meaning of the Bible.  But, too often, I find the study begins to supersede the substance.  I will sit for hours untangling a single sentence, and miss the meaning of the chapter in context.  The micro view of the scriptures should support the macro view, not obliterate it.

My pointer still hovered over Heliophysics.  To click, or not to click?  If I were to embark on a study of the physics of the sun, would I lose my love of sunset skies drenched in reds, oranges and purples?  Would my sunrises signal another day of hope and anticipation, or would I wake each morning and log on to find out if a Coronal Mass Ejection (CME) had occurred overnight so I could prepare for any cell phone or satellite interruptions I might experience?

What to do?

Yes, of course, I clicked the link!  Ultimately, the awe-inspiring beauty of a sunset cannot be obscured by the physics that generate it any more than the beauty of the message of the Bible can be obscured by the words that describe it.  Even if I find myself wrestling with words in scripture, the stark beauty of the Word will eventually grab my attention, just as a blazing sunset will wrest my eyes from an article on Heliophysics.  The raw beauty of a sunset or scripture simply takes my breath away.  Science inspires the mind to know more, but the effect captivates and feeds the soul, and the two are not mutually exclusive.  I clicked the link, and this evening’s sunset was still amazing.  In this, I know that as I lie down and study my Bible tonight, I will be amazed.

Why He Came

At the Chris Tomlin concert in The Woodlands, Texas, Louie Giglio preached about the parable of the Prodigal Son in a way I'd never heard before.  The parables of the Lost Coin and the Lost Sheep were integral to the sermon, too.  Read them if you want.  Luke 15.

In the end, he said, "Jesus didn't come to earth to make us better people.  He came to earth to take us from death to life."  In sin, we are all dead.  It's not like we can have a little sin so we're only a little dead.  There are no degrees of 'dead'.  We can be either alive or dead.  That's it.  And, because we all sin, we are all dead.

Only by Jesus' cleansing act of sacrifice are we made alive again.

Kung Fu Christian

My daughter, Sarah, is taking kung fu classes.  Her teacher is great.  He assigns homework for the week—things like, make your bed, clean your dishes, and clean your room.  In her last class, he told the students that these tasks aren’t simply chores to be begrudgingly done.  They are all a part of kung fu.  Kung fu pervades everything they do.  They clean their room out of respect for their parents, and that’s kung fu.  They put things in place with deliberate and powerful motions, and that’s kung fu.  It’s the wax on, wax off principal from the first Karate Kid movie and the coat on the coat rack principal from the second Karate Kid movie.  It’s even in an obscure, but funny movie called Shaolin Soccer.  Everything is done because of and for the benefit of kung fu.  Kung fu is lived, not done.

It got me to thinking what our lives would look like if we applied that same philosophy to Christian living.  I know it’s the way we’re supposed to live.  I also know I don’t do that consistently.  I may be able to read my Bible, and try to live the principles it teaches to glorify God.  But, I don’t know how to make my bed or take out the trash or mow the lawn or drive to work, and say, “That’s Christianity,” though I could do those things in a certain way and say, “That’s kung fu.”  I could brush my teeth with dramatic body motions and poses and call it kung fu style.  But, how do I brush my teeth “Christian style?”  Can I repair a sprinkler head…to the glory of God?

So, maybe that connection doesn’t work so well.  But, it seems like it should.  If my walk with Christ (living my covenant lifestyle) is supposed to be pervasive and constant, how do I apply the divine to the mundane?

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."  - 1 Cor 10:31 NIV

What is the Nature of Scripture?

My thought is that scripture is essentially a reason to praise God.  That may not be it's sole raison d'etre.  But, from beginning to end, scripture shows God to be a consistent, loving father.  Whether He's flooding the world or delivering His people, every time God does something in scripture, we can say, "Hallelujah!"  Israel turned to idol worship and God punished them.  Hallelujah!  Jacob stole his brother's birthright and ran away, and God upheld His promise to Abraham.  Hallelujah!

From the historical perspective, He demonstrates his consistent love for us by rewarding and punishing His children throughout scripture and by making promises that he keeps.  Scripture doesn't cast mankind in a very good light, as we tend to be inconsistent, self-loving, self-serving, willful children.  But, that directs us even more back to scripture being a reason to praise God for His consistent love for us.  Hallelujah!

Does scripture contain Biblical answers to modern problems?  As a parent, I find myself having to take things away from my kids.  Things they like.  Things they cherish.  It's usually the iPad because they are hooked on a game, or a TV show they've watched 10 times in a row.  Taking these things away from them feels like punishment to them.  To them, it feels like I'm being mean.  But, I see them becoming obsessed with something trivial (TV and video games), and I need to break that pattern of addiction because I love them, and I need them to love me (by obedience--or vice versa, obey me because of their love) more than their iPad & TV.  

I read a book called The Pursuit of God in which the author writes about having possessions, but not being possessed by them.  An example cited was Abraham, who was willing to sacrifice his dearest possession, Isaac.  That demonstration of love literally saved the world.  The story of Job fits into this category of modern problems, too, I think.  

The problem is that, when you lose your job, your car, your health, your loved ones, iPad time, TV time (modern problems), it's so hard to see that ancient scripture may be at work.  Abraham never said, "I want my iPad!  I want my iPad!"  (Hallelujah!)  But, the idea is the same.  It just might be God's loving hand breaking your fixation/obsession/addiction to the 'things' in the world (can we call it idol worship?) and redirecting you back to love-driven obedience to Him and His plan for us and the world.  It just might be a reason to praise God (even though I still find myself fussing at him for not protecting me and my family when it happens).

Here's the thing, though.  Without an understanding of scripture, we could never see our modern problems from that perspective.  And, that's why we end up perplexed and frustrated when God abandons us and allows these terrible things to happen.  It's so hard to hear "I love you" when you're in the throes of grief, punishment or withdrawal.  On the other hand, God can't hear, "I love you," from us when we're obsessed with our modern problems.

Verb Form of 'Christian'

I have this image in my mind of a video showing an unmarked radio controlled car. The caption reads, “Creation.” It’s picked up, dunked in water, and a sticker in the shape of a cross is applied to the hood. The caption reads, “Christian.” The car is picked up, a battery is installed, the motor revs & the car speeds off. The caption reads, “Disciple.” 

We are all creations; in baptism, we become Christians; in deeds, we are disciples. 

Or, to put it another way, “Disciple” is the verb form of the noun, “Christian.” 

But, I’m going to challenge Willard’s water-in-the-gas-tank analogy a bit and suggest that we don’t add water to the gas tank. Instead, our cars are built with a reservoir of water connected to our gas tank. That wasn’t part of the original design. But, the prototype was retrofitted with it, and it became standard equipment from then on. The reservoir has many hoses that lead to our gas tank, and more hoses are added all the time. Each hose has a valve that is open in its natural state allowing water to flow into the gas tank. These valves must be held shut in order to keep water from flowing. 

To complicate things, releasing the valve can actually be enjoyable and at least temporarily rewarding. With so many hoses and valves, it becomes challenging to keep them all shut. 

Fortunately, it’s possible for passengers to help us hold them shut, and that makes it a lot easier to keep water out of the gas. It’s a lot harder to keep them all shut when you’re alone in the car. 

But, it seems that either by choice or by negligence, a valve eventually opens. Or maybe two, or three. It feels good to take a break from holding the valve closed, and the water doesn’t have an immediate impact on the engine. Well, maybe a little, but it’s tolerable. It’s only when the engine starts running really rough that we start closing valves. And, it’s then that we discover the valves can be very hard to close. 

We don’t so much add a little sin into our lives as much as we allow a little sin to sneak out—to be expressed in our deeds, our thoughts, our words. Our sinful nature is within us, and we allow ourselves to be disobedient. 

But, if Jesus’ own hand-picked disciples couldn’t prevent themselves from sinning, how can we? We can’t. We must necessarily sometimes miss the mark. 

Our challenge, as disciples, is to hold the valves shut as long as we can, knowing that we will eventually relax our grip and then have to work to shut the valve again. That probably keeps us humble, and makes us more likely to be forgiving of others who try to keep their valves shut, but fail occasionally.

Dresden Files

I don’t know if you’ve read the Dresden Files series. It’s about a wizard living in modern-day Chicago, fighting supernatural forces and helping the police catch bad guys. I read the first book, and in it, there was an interesting concept of a wizard’s “third eye,” which essentially allows him and other wizards to lift the veil of the apparent and see the world in its “real” mystical, magical, hideous fundamental nature. It implies that the world we see is not the real world. Rather, what we see is a mask of more palatable images concealing the hideous “real” world. The same concept appears in the movie, They Live, and The Matrix, and probably others. 

It got me to thinking about our world and how we see people. I think we tend to view most people (especially ourselves) in their best light. We see ministers and church ladies and shepherds and philanthropists as “good people,” and we put murderers, child molesters, rapists and politicians into a different category. And, I think we probably see people in both groups as better than they actually are. After all, a sin is a sin, and there are no degrees of disobedience. Still, I tend to think that people aren’t as bad as the worst thing they ever did, nor as good as the best thing they ever did, but are somewhere in between. 

 I wonder what we would see if we had a “third eye.” What would we see if the veil of the apparent were lifted, or if we had those cool shades that allowed us to see beyond the real world? What if we were able to see people as God sees them? Would we be more compassionate toward one another? Would we be repulsed by them? Seeing ourselves with clear eyes, would we hide from others and scramble for a fig leaf big enough to cover our shame? It’s the blood of Jesus, I suppose, that puts that veil back on us and makes us palatable (acceptable) to God.  

Jesus had the ability to see people unveiled, I think. So, why don’t people have the ability to see each other for who they really are?