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by Ted Wueste  Last week, I had the privilege of retreating with a group of leaders from our church. We went to a mountain cabin in the cool pines of Arizona where an afternoon rain caused the temperature to plummet into the 60s. Coming from the desert environs of Phoenix where the summer lows might drop into the high 80s, it was a welcomed change. As refreshing as the temperatures were, even more refreshing was the time spent in quiet reflection and prayerful listening. During a time of group sharing on the last day of our retreat, one of the leaders made a statement that I am still pondering. He said “I am learning to love God slowly.” “Love God slowly!” As I heard these words, I immediately sensed that He was on to something and the awkward phrasing caused me to stop and reflect on what was meant. English is my friend’s second language which likely contributed to the unique expression, but he was doing his best to put his experience of God into words. Several things have occurred to me as I continue to ponder my friend’s words: 1. Our command of a particular language can actually be a barrier to experiencing God. There is no way that words can contain God and certainly not our experience of Him. When we depend too heavily upon words to understand the gracious movements of God in our lives, we might just be limiting our understanding and simply settling for old categories or overly simplistic ideas that can no longer describe Him. There are times when we have an experience of love and/or awe and we say, “I don’t know how to put that into words.” Perhaps, there are times when we just need to sit with God and refrain from the attempt all together. Simply sitting in silence can be a reminder than God is bigger than our words and concepts and ideas. Interestingly, it was from a time of quiet, wordless reflection that my friend emerged with the phrase “love God slowly.” 2. Then, of course, the very idea of “loving God slowly” is so profound. We can’t love fast. We just can’t. It’s not possible. Speed keeps love from being deep and thorough. Love lingers and savors and enjoys. So, loving God slowly means that we stop and give ample time to listen and notice what is really going on. How much do I miss because I am simply too busy and too hurried to perceive? As a teenager, college student, and young married adult, I moved so fast and missed much in my surroundings. Living in the Phoenix area, I missed that there are mountains all around. The Phoenix Mountains Preserve (right in the middle of the city) is the largest city park in the United States, but I missed its beauty and grandeur. My wife and I moved away for 15 years and upon moving back in my forties, I’ve found myself thinking on more than one occasion, “Were those mountains there when we lived here before?” It is possible for there to be profound, amazing, beautiful realities right before our eyes and not see them. It requires moving slowly. As I learn to love God slowly, it means that I can see and experience His profound presence in my life in deepening ways. 1. There are certainly benefits to moving fast but do they outweigh the benefits of moving slowly? Teilhard de Chardin, the noted scientist and Jesuit mystic, said it well: “The physical structure of the universe is love.” If that is true, the going fast keeps me from love and therefore the very nature of the universe. God reveals Himself personally through the Holy Scriptures, through my intuition, and through His creation. I can miss all of this running too fast. The benefits of going fast are not only outweighed by loving slowly, they are obliterated. 2. As I considered further the concept of slow love, a verse from 1 Corinthians 13 kept coming to mind: “love is patient.” Of course, patience is most frequently thought of as a response to a negative circumstance. The object of my love is irritating, so I need to be patient. But, could this also speak of a more positive application of love? Love, in its very nature, is slow which leads to waiting through a tough situation but also means that I wait for intimacy to develop. I wait and am slow because the deepest realities of love and life and God won’t just jump out at us. Love is patient also in a very positive sense. In the Song of Solomon, there is a refrain that is threaded through the love song: “do not awaken love until it pleases.” The idea is that we wait for love to develop. Intimacy doesn’t happen in an instance. It is a vast reservoir that must be accessed and explored over time. 3. Finally, I thought about how often our concepts and experiences of God are frequently marked by platitudes and borrowed phrases. “God is good ... all the time.” While certainly true, that phrase likely doesn’t come from a place of personal intimacy for many who utter it. Intimacy and depth of relationship produce nicknames and “pet phrases” that no one else knows. The words and concepts that emerge from intimacy are likely understood by no one else, or at the very least, they sound strange. I have nicknames and phrases for and with my wife that twenty-five years of marriage have produced. What seemingly awkward phrases do I share with God? What is His name for me? Revelation 2:17 indicates that God’s gives a new name (“a nickname”) that is only known by us as we walk faithfully (“slowly”?) with Him. Ponder this idea of loving God slowly. What might that mean for you? How can you slowdown in order to walk in step with the very nature of the universe? Reflect upon one way you can love God slowly today. Prayer: Father God, may I love you slowly. Give me the eyes to see you as I slow down and take notice of you ... as I linger at your throne in prayer, not to gain anything but to enjoy what is already ours in relationship. You are so worthy of the best of my time. Thank you for loving me slowly and being patient with the process you’re continuing to graciously unfold in my life. Amen. To learn more about Ted Wueste and read more blog posts or listen to audio click here
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by Jeff Skeens  Life is full of irony. Sometimes it's a light-hearted, funny irony, and at others times it's an irony that causes you to enter the tension. We want to be successful in business, but for many it comes at the cost of a healthy family life. We long and fight for justice, yet many products we buy are unjustly produced. We long to eat healthy, yet most of the “good” tasting food is full of sugar, fat, and grease (at least for my taste buds!). We want to be unified, yet we have this pull to label, box in, and identity on a certain side. We want to serve the poor, but when we do, we often realize it’s we who are being served. We pray for answers, but when the answers come, they aren’t what we’re looking for, so we miss it. We hate racism, but when we truly address it we can’t deny the small (or large) seeds of racism in ourselves. As Christians we brag about being servants of Christ, but when we’re treated like a servant, we become angry and feel entitled to better treatment (again, this is at least true with me…) Irony, yes. Irony that produces tension.
Tension: the state of being stretched tight. These issues, when exposed to us, seem to stretch us tight, create discomfort, and the tension sets in. “What do we do with this?” Most of the time, the easiest answer is to find a way to relieve the tension, so we run to one side of the issue and neglect the other side. Problem solved. Until the next issue arises, and if we’re honest with ourselves, these tense issues rear their ugly heads every day. We can’t run from the tension, but we can deny it, numb ourselves from it, remain ignorant. We can… but could it be that these are the very things that destroy our souls. This is why Jesus constantly drove people into the tension. Time and time again when asked questions like, “What’s the greatest commandment?” “Who’s my neighbor?” “Do we pay taxes or not?” “How do you inherit eternal life?” Jesus’ answers created tension. He didn’t give a pass to those looking for a quick way out or a doctrinal loophole. He pressed them to be honest, to live in to the tension of honesty, self-reflection, humility, sacrifice; to die to the habits that were killing them, and oppressing others. Most of the answers we are looking for in life, aren’t easy ones, or else we would’ve found answers already. And most of the time, the partial answer is mysterious and left open ended. It’s in this place of tension, where we can’t fall back on programmed responses. It’s here that we are thrown into the depths of our desires, our beliefs, and we are left to wrestle with who we truly are. Are we going to live in to the mystery, the tension, and trust that we aren’t the ones holding all things/all beliefs together? Are we going to allow the process of unknowing to shape us into a people who truly know the one who does hold it all together, at the cost (or risk) of being labeled by your own tribe as "going off the deep end," according to your tribe's standard, or are we going to settle, run to one side of the camp, and stake our flag on the “right” side. It’s in the tension where we have the opportunity to become properly tuned. Jon Foreman gives a great metaphor for tension, likening it to guitar strings that are strung tight enough to hold a tune. It’s in the tension where we play on tune. Strung too tight, we bust. Not strung tight enough, we make awful noises. If you have honest friends around you who aren’t just a fan of yours, they’ll tell you when you're about to bust, or if you sound horrible. When you are offended by a friend or acquaintance, you are then offered the gift of tension. Who are you going to choose to be? Are you going to run to one side and stake your flag, or will you live in to the tension of teachableness, humility? This is all too convicting for me, even as I write this. Right now, in this season, we have a great opportunity to live in to the tension of life without running to one side or the other, claiming the other side as demons, or wrong, or lost. I confess, I’ve done plenty of flag staking, and I am not proud of it, and neither has it produced any beautiful lovely sounding music. It won’t, because it’s not tuned. Today, we have opportunities to embrace the beauty of mystery and unknowing. To admit we’re not the ones holding it all together (or to admit that our country or tribe isn’t the one holding all things together). Jesus constantly broke the mold of what was right, and I’m convinced followers of Jesus are called to live in to the same ethos, to passionately stand in the middle, confidently living in mystery and certainty. Embracing the tension in our own lives first, then embracing others who are struggling to find the confidence to stand where it hurts as well. The glory of God is revealed through a broken man. Tension. The cross, the greatest act of love. Tension. The tomb becomes a womb. Tension. Beauty is found in death. Tension. Ashes produce life. Tension. The way up is down. Tension. The way to access power is to give up power. Tension. To become the greatest, you must become a servant of all. Tension. Gain life by losing your life. Tension. “With that in mind, I feel like dying to myself is a daily task necessary for true abundant life.” Jon Foreman |
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