The spiritual director and pastoral psychologist William Barry relates a story about his dying mother. He says: “When my mother was dying of cancer, she said that she prayed every night that God would take her in her sleep. I asked her what God was like, and she answered, “He’s a lot better than he’s made out to be” (God and You: Prayer as a Personal Relationship, p.16).
We can get an idea of who God is from reading, discussions, sermons, TV evangelists, or people who use God to justify their own personal cause. But to really know God, you need to make time to cultivate a relationship and that means prayer is a, if not, the key ingredient. Getting to know God is like getting to know another person. You have to spend meaningful time in their presence to really get to know them. In that conscious relationship there is sharing, especially if that relationship is going to be a deep relationship. I’m pretty sure that all of us have had the experience of being with someone and thinking that we were relating only to realize that the other person was really somewhere else. The sharing, such as it was, was superficial.
Barry’s mother’s comment about what God is like is one that grew out of a lifetime of having spent time with God in prayer. It was a sharing of relationship.
Perhaps another way to put it is to say that it is a sharing of centers. A center is what anchors our lives, that gives stability to our being. What is it that keeps you going? What is it that gives your life meaning? In the midst of this busy, driven world, often chaotic world, how do you keep your balance? What helps you live with integrity in the midst of the confusion and competing siren calls of the world? Whatever it is, it not only affects your understanding of who you are, but also affects your relationship with others, the natural world, and with God.
The tragedy, of course, is that many people don’t really have a clear center. It is undefined, ill-formed, lacking integrity, contentment and peace. And so the chaos within is made worse by the chaos without. And this affects all areas of life and all our relationships.
In one translation of Psalm 131:2, we read: “Enough for me to keep my soul tranquil and quiet like a child in its mother’s arms, as content as a child that has been weaned.” Reflect on that image – a maturing, growing child resting in the arms of its mother. The Psalmist has found peace and rest. He has found his center. The prophet Isaiah reminds us that: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength” (Isaiah 30:15).
In both of these passages we are reminded that when our center finds its center in God there is a harmony to life. The parts of one’s life seem to fit together like the pieces of a puzzle, revealing a wholeness and a picture that is the heart of each person. That doesn’t mean that there are no more struggles or painful situations with which we need to cope, but that underneath it all and at the center there is a quality of life and relationship that says “all will be well.”
Cultivating that center is a process and it doesn’t simply happen overnight. But it does begin with “showing up”, that is, making time to be present with God who is at the center of all LIFE. Just as we give time to any relationship that is important to us, we give time to this most important and critical of relationships. It will mean a daily and regular time spent in quality prayer. That, of course, is the goal. But the thing about our gracious God is that God is there whenever we show up. But pretty soon, we realize that it isn’t enough to make time for God when we are desperate or needy or have nothing else better to do. As we cultivate that relationship with God and that relationship becomes the center of our life and begins to give order and contentment and peace and stability to every area of life, we will do more than “just show up”. We’ll realize that when we make regular time for God, that that loving use of time is a sign of the level of our centeredness – a centeredness that shapes our lives.
“Come,” my heart says, “Seek his face.” Your face, Lord, do I seek” (Psalm 27;8)
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
"For A Child of God"
Jessica Powers was a diminutive, unassuming Catholic nun who wrote some of the most contemplative and moving spiritual poetry of the 20th century. As I read her poem below – “For A Child of God”, I was reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul: “Don’t you realize that you are God’s temple and the Spirit of God is living in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16).
Paul reminds us, and we need reminding, that one of the real mysteries of the Christian life is that God dwells deep within us, as in a tabernacle, a temple, a sacred place in the depths of our being. While all human beings possess the image of God and are due the respect and dignity that calls forth, those who have come to know God in Christ and experienced the transforming power of God, have become “the temple of the living God” (2 Corinthians 6:16). It is a powerful and intimate image. It means that forever, at every moment, God is at work in us, loving us, healing us, freeing us, inviting us into incredible intimacy. But for the most part, we are ignorant of what is taking place. Or if we try and grasp the theological (Oh, there is that word again!) truth of this divine promise, we find ourselves way out of our depth in trying to understand and express it. Maybe that is why the mystics (those who have been most keenly aware of the intimate dwelling of God within) have almost always reverted to poetry.
In the poem below there are some powerful images. But the one that immediately catches my eye is the line: “None can assail you in that place save your own evil, routing grace.” It is a reminder that this intimacy of our relationship with God is a matter of grace, but so often we, not the external circumstances that surround us, not the dark forces of a fallen world, but our own doubt and forgetfulness, are there “routing grace”. And because we forget, and because we don’t make time to cultivate this intimacy we find ourselves confused and de-centered and desperately looking for someone or something thing that will fill this deep void which we have created in our souls.
But the poem ends on a word of hope: “But there are days when watching eyes could guess that you hold Paradise. Sometimes the shining overflows and everyone around you knows.” Beautiful words. “But there are days….” This intimacy with God, this tabernacle within the soul, overflows in all its peace and goodness and love and people know that God is present.
“Child, has no one ever told you God is in your soul?”
======
The saints and mystics
had a name
for that deep
inwardness of flame,
the height or depth
or ground or goal
Which is God’s dwelling in the soul?
Heaven--
because God is there.
All day and when
you wake at night
think of that place
of living light,
yours and within you
and aglow
where only God
and you can go.
None can assail you
in that place
save your own evil,
routing grace.
Not even angels
see or hear,
nor the dark spirits
prowling near.
But there are days
when watching eyes
could guess that you
hold Paradise.
Sometimes the shining
overflows
and everyone
around you knows.
Child, has no one ever told you
God is in your soul?
Paul reminds us, and we need reminding, that one of the real mysteries of the Christian life is that God dwells deep within us, as in a tabernacle, a temple, a sacred place in the depths of our being. While all human beings possess the image of God and are due the respect and dignity that calls forth, those who have come to know God in Christ and experienced the transforming power of God, have become “the temple of the living God” (2 Corinthians 6:16). It is a powerful and intimate image. It means that forever, at every moment, God is at work in us, loving us, healing us, freeing us, inviting us into incredible intimacy. But for the most part, we are ignorant of what is taking place. Or if we try and grasp the theological (Oh, there is that word again!) truth of this divine promise, we find ourselves way out of our depth in trying to understand and express it. Maybe that is why the mystics (those who have been most keenly aware of the intimate dwelling of God within) have almost always reverted to poetry.
In the poem below there are some powerful images. But the one that immediately catches my eye is the line: “None can assail you in that place save your own evil, routing grace.” It is a reminder that this intimacy of our relationship with God is a matter of grace, but so often we, not the external circumstances that surround us, not the dark forces of a fallen world, but our own doubt and forgetfulness, are there “routing grace”. And because we forget, and because we don’t make time to cultivate this intimacy we find ourselves confused and de-centered and desperately looking for someone or something thing that will fill this deep void which we have created in our souls.
But the poem ends on a word of hope: “But there are days when watching eyes could guess that you hold Paradise. Sometimes the shining overflows and everyone around you knows.” Beautiful words. “But there are days….” This intimacy with God, this tabernacle within the soul, overflows in all its peace and goodness and love and people know that God is present.
“Child, has no one ever told you God is in your soul?”
======
The saints and mystics
had a name
for that deep
inwardness of flame,
the height or depth
or ground or goal
Which is God’s dwelling in the soul?
Heaven--
because God is there.
All day and when
you wake at night
think of that place
of living light,
yours and within you
and aglow
where only God
and you can go.
None can assail you
in that place
save your own evil,
routing grace.
Not even angels
see or hear,
nor the dark spirits
prowling near.
But there are days
when watching eyes
could guess that you
hold Paradise.
Sometimes the shining
overflows
and everyone
around you knows.
Child, has no one ever told you
God is in your soul?
Friday, July 1, 2011
Rust on the Soul
A few years back while doing some teaching in the Republic of Georgia I was riding in a car with a friend. I was sitting in the passenger seat and felt something under the throw rug under my feet. Lifting it up I discovered a thin board covering a hole in the floor that had been eaten away by rust. The only thing keeping me from the road was a board and a rug.
Rust -- corrosion that weakens the structure and integrity of the metal. Rust eats away, causing cracks that, if not treated, not only weaken a structure, but can destroy it.
Now, there are ways to avoid rust and corrosion. Treating the metal and making sure that it stays clean, free of anything that will cause it to oxidize, can protect the metal. But this takes intentionality and care.
In a similar way there can be “rust” on the soul. Compromise and half-hearted devotion can erode and eat away at that center of our life that is built around a relationship with God. Like rust, our half-hearted “yeses” to God weaken the fiber of our lives. And the real danger is that often we notice the effect only after much time has passed. Our compromises and half-measures are so plausible, so reasonable, that we don’t appreciate how they are negatively impacting our lives. They seem to make a lot of sense. In fact, we get pretty good at rationalizing and can even rationalize with great conviction. After all, we have to live in the real world. Our consumer-driven, efficiency-minded, success and result-oriented culture places pretty high demands on us. At least, so we rationalize. But deep in our hearts we know that something is not right.
In the Book of Revelation, God says to the Church of Laodicea: “I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 2:15-16). This vivid picture is a striking warning about deceiving ourselves. It a warning about the danger of saying an enthusiastic “yes” to God’s forgiveness and salvation, but only a qualified “yes” to the daily obedience that life requires.
And while this self-deception and half-heartedness is a danger for all of us, it is especially true for those in leadership positions. There is a Hasidic story in which Rabbi Jizchak Meir said: “When one assumes a position of leadership, many things are required: yeshiva, an office, a desk, chairs, an administrator, a janitor, etc. And then comes the evil enemy and takes away the innermost point, but all the rest remains as it was and the wheel keeps turning, only the inner point fails.” The inner point is the relationship with God. The story reminds us that it is possible to have a thriving, prestigious, even well-thought of organization without the inner point. “Success” in the world’s sense of the term, is no evidence of faithfulness and approval by God. The tragedy in all this is that with the inner point, the center, the point of reference, gone, we are left spinning our wheels and have lost the meaning of our existence and the purpose of our activities. We can all point to colleges and universities that began as Christian institutions with strong convictions and commitment to the glory of God, only to abandon that allegiance along the way. They may still be famous, prestigious, lucrative institutions, but they have lost their inner point. It can happen to churches, mission organizations, para-church organizations, and the list goes on. And as tragic as that is, it is rust on the individual soul, yours and mine, that is the most disastrous.
The Bible reminds us over and over again that in life there is always a danger of mistaken priorities. The first and greatest commandment remains: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5; cf. Mark 12:30-31). To love God is to yearn for, desire, hope for, pray for, work for, strive for that which glorifies God and puts God in God’s place in our lives. To love others as we love ourselves is to desire and work for that which God desires for them. Jesus lived and proclaimed this and expects his followers to do the same. It is a call to a life of radical focus.
We have heard this before. It was, or should have been, what we were told when we were invited to follow Jesus. Some of those who begin to live their lives this way can, after a while, lose their radical focus on God. Something or someone else slips into the center, perhaps something that began as a service to God and the church. But eventually this something becomes more important than God himself. Basically, a pious idol has set itself up in our life, perhaps without our even noticing it. We still pray, we still serve, we still read our Bible, but, as we look at our prayers, it seems that they are focused on asking God to bless our most important concern (my relationships, my desires, my ministry, my church, etc). Serving God has imperceptibly and unconsciously turned into making use of God. Rust begins to corrode our soul.
For others, their faith has lost that radical orientation. They still profess faith in God and would probably identify themselves as a follower of Jesus, but the zeal and the passion are gone. So are those times of prayer and bible study. God sometimes feels close, especially at camp or a retreat or when the worship is really “happening.” But they have become consumers of religion rather than cultivators of the spiritual life.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the center, the inner point, that commitment to knowing and doing the will of God, loses its place and something else becomes the center. And the peace and sense of mission and joy no longer seem to be there. The real tragedy is that we often don’t realize the true state until it is almost too late. I say “almost” because it doesn’t have to end in disaster. While we may need others to help us see the deterioration in our spiritual life, it is possible to arrest the decay and weakening of our relationship with God and the dislocation of our spiritual center. A good way to come to self-knowledge and renewal is to get back to basics by focusing on Christ and especially the cross. Jesus reminds us that we are loved and the object of God’s grace and that no matter how far we have wandered or the degree of decay or breakdown in our relationship with God, we can begin again. Acknowledgement, repentance, forgiveness and a new start – all of this is grace.
So, what about you? Is there rust on your soul? What are you going to do about it?
Rust -- corrosion that weakens the structure and integrity of the metal. Rust eats away, causing cracks that, if not treated, not only weaken a structure, but can destroy it.
Now, there are ways to avoid rust and corrosion. Treating the metal and making sure that it stays clean, free of anything that will cause it to oxidize, can protect the metal. But this takes intentionality and care.
In a similar way there can be “rust” on the soul. Compromise and half-hearted devotion can erode and eat away at that center of our life that is built around a relationship with God. Like rust, our half-hearted “yeses” to God weaken the fiber of our lives. And the real danger is that often we notice the effect only after much time has passed. Our compromises and half-measures are so plausible, so reasonable, that we don’t appreciate how they are negatively impacting our lives. They seem to make a lot of sense. In fact, we get pretty good at rationalizing and can even rationalize with great conviction. After all, we have to live in the real world. Our consumer-driven, efficiency-minded, success and result-oriented culture places pretty high demands on us. At least, so we rationalize. But deep in our hearts we know that something is not right.
In the Book of Revelation, God says to the Church of Laodicea: “I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 2:15-16). This vivid picture is a striking warning about deceiving ourselves. It a warning about the danger of saying an enthusiastic “yes” to God’s forgiveness and salvation, but only a qualified “yes” to the daily obedience that life requires.
And while this self-deception and half-heartedness is a danger for all of us, it is especially true for those in leadership positions. There is a Hasidic story in which Rabbi Jizchak Meir said: “When one assumes a position of leadership, many things are required: yeshiva, an office, a desk, chairs, an administrator, a janitor, etc. And then comes the evil enemy and takes away the innermost point, but all the rest remains as it was and the wheel keeps turning, only the inner point fails.” The inner point is the relationship with God. The story reminds us that it is possible to have a thriving, prestigious, even well-thought of organization without the inner point. “Success” in the world’s sense of the term, is no evidence of faithfulness and approval by God. The tragedy in all this is that with the inner point, the center, the point of reference, gone, we are left spinning our wheels and have lost the meaning of our existence and the purpose of our activities. We can all point to colleges and universities that began as Christian institutions with strong convictions and commitment to the glory of God, only to abandon that allegiance along the way. They may still be famous, prestigious, lucrative institutions, but they have lost their inner point. It can happen to churches, mission organizations, para-church organizations, and the list goes on. And as tragic as that is, it is rust on the individual soul, yours and mine, that is the most disastrous.
The Bible reminds us over and over again that in life there is always a danger of mistaken priorities. The first and greatest commandment remains: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deuteronomy 6:4-5; cf. Mark 12:30-31). To love God is to yearn for, desire, hope for, pray for, work for, strive for that which glorifies God and puts God in God’s place in our lives. To love others as we love ourselves is to desire and work for that which God desires for them. Jesus lived and proclaimed this and expects his followers to do the same. It is a call to a life of radical focus.
We have heard this before. It was, or should have been, what we were told when we were invited to follow Jesus. Some of those who begin to live their lives this way can, after a while, lose their radical focus on God. Something or someone else slips into the center, perhaps something that began as a service to God and the church. But eventually this something becomes more important than God himself. Basically, a pious idol has set itself up in our life, perhaps without our even noticing it. We still pray, we still serve, we still read our Bible, but, as we look at our prayers, it seems that they are focused on asking God to bless our most important concern (my relationships, my desires, my ministry, my church, etc). Serving God has imperceptibly and unconsciously turned into making use of God. Rust begins to corrode our soul.
For others, their faith has lost that radical orientation. They still profess faith in God and would probably identify themselves as a follower of Jesus, but the zeal and the passion are gone. So are those times of prayer and bible study. God sometimes feels close, especially at camp or a retreat or when the worship is really “happening.” But they have become consumers of religion rather than cultivators of the spiritual life.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the center, the inner point, that commitment to knowing and doing the will of God, loses its place and something else becomes the center. And the peace and sense of mission and joy no longer seem to be there. The real tragedy is that we often don’t realize the true state until it is almost too late. I say “almost” because it doesn’t have to end in disaster. While we may need others to help us see the deterioration in our spiritual life, it is possible to arrest the decay and weakening of our relationship with God and the dislocation of our spiritual center. A good way to come to self-knowledge and renewal is to get back to basics by focusing on Christ and especially the cross. Jesus reminds us that we are loved and the object of God’s grace and that no matter how far we have wandered or the degree of decay or breakdown in our relationship with God, we can begin again. Acknowledgement, repentance, forgiveness and a new start – all of this is grace.
So, what about you? Is there rust on your soul? What are you going to do about it?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The Love of God
A number of things (an email, a conversation, a song) came together the other day to set me thinking about the love of God, both in the sense of God’s love for us and our love for God. But it was the song, Charles Wesley’s “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” that really got me thinking about love.
Now, at the risk of having some of my friends come down on me, I have to say that while I like many contemporary worship songs, especially for their vibrant, upbeat music and simple, personal lyrics, and their commitment to connect and contextualize the faith for a new generation, I have a real affection for the hymns of the 18th century hymn writer Charles Wesley. And one of the concerns I have for those whose worship experience is only or primarily nurtured on contemporary worship songs and an almost complete absence of some of the great hymns of the church is that they miss out on some profound and powerful theology. I know it is requires a stretch and maybe even some interpretation to get passed the arcane language of some of these hymns, but their deep message is usually worth it. Again, I know that many people shrink from that word “theology”, but they shouldn’t because theology is inevitable. “Theology” is talking about God and the way God has revealed himself in Christ for the transformation of our lives and our world. “Theology” is the articulation of our experience with God. The only real question is whether or not the theology reflected in our songs (and sermons and worship as a whole) is good, robust, God-honoring or is it flawed, or weak or woefully myopic?
And while I struggle with John Zundel’s tune that is often used, I never ceased to be amazed at the words of “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.” Its images of God’s love shown in Christ are powerful and reveal a compassionate, pure and unbounded, transforming and abiding love. It is a love that can give peace to a troubled heart, liberate a bound spirit, and empower us for life in a challenging world.
It is no secret that our lives need love just as much as our bodies need air, water and food. Only when that love touches us and teaches us how to love can our loneliness be transformed into intimacy, fear into courage and anxiety into restful hope. And while genuine, self-giving, other-affirming love is possible in human love it has its limits. Whether those limits are determined by our environment, our sets of connections, or our own imperfect nature, human love is limited.
God’s love is different from all human love. Human love is always limited and conditional even in the best of relationships. But God’s love is radically different. God’s love is based on nothing that we have or have done or can do. And while that sometimes makes me uncomfortable because as a driven, goal-oriented, achievement-based person I would like to believe that God loves me because I am so dedicated and unselfish or because of my personality or special qualities, the truth is that God’s love isn’t based on any of that. God’s love is based on nothing except God’s nature. You and I can do nothing, absolutely nothing to earn the love of God. It was there before we existed.
And a great thing about this love which God offers to us is that it bottomless as well as unconditional. No matter how deeply we try to plumb it’s depth or are immersed in God’s love, we never reach the bottom, since that doesn’t exist. God loves unconditionally, completely and unreservedly because God is love. We can love and we do love, but God IS love.
To sin is to refuse God’s love. When we sin – that is, ignore or reject God’s will and decide to go it on our own -- God doesn’t cease to love us. God doesn’t abandon us. God’s love remains. It is like the father’s love in Jesus’ story of the wayward child who finally returns to his father (Luke 15:11-32), except raised to an infinite degree. When the son returns, he finds the father waiting. In the same way, God waits, God hopes, God’s love remains. Only our ultimate rejection of that love in death severs that love, but only on our side. God’s love continues. It is a pained loved, a scorned love, but a constant love. It is a love that respects, however painful it may be, the decision to refuse to live in the love of God.
It is this love, a love that excels all earthly love that seeks to embrace me and every person on this planet. To know that love, to live in that love, however imperfectly, is to know joy. It is a reminder that we are loved by God and because we are loved, we matter.
I like a prayer by the spiritual writer Macrina Wiederkehr. She understands how difficult it is for some of us to accept that we are loved with the divine love that excels all other loves and so she prays: “O God, help me to believe the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful.” How about you?
Love divine, all loves excelling,
joy of heaven, to earth come down;
fix in us thy humble dwelling;
all thy faithful mercies crown!
Jesus thou art all compassion,
pure, unbounded love thou art;
visit us with thy salvation;
enter every trembling heart.
Breathe, O breathe thy loving Spirit
into every troubled breast!
Let us all in thee inherit;
let us find that second rest.
Take away our bent to sinning;
Alpha and Omega be;
end of faith, as its beginning,
set our hearts at liberty.
Come, Almighty to deliver,
let us all thy life receive;
suddenly return and never,
nevermore thy temples leave.
Thee we would be always blessing,
serve thee as thy hosts above,
pray and praise thee without ceasing,
glory in thy perfect love.
Finish, then, thy new creation;
pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see thy great salvation
perfectly restored in thee;
changed from glory into glory,
till in heaven we take our place,
till we cast our crowns before thee,
lost in wonder, love, and praise.
Now, at the risk of having some of my friends come down on me, I have to say that while I like many contemporary worship songs, especially for their vibrant, upbeat music and simple, personal lyrics, and their commitment to connect and contextualize the faith for a new generation, I have a real affection for the hymns of the 18th century hymn writer Charles Wesley. And one of the concerns I have for those whose worship experience is only or primarily nurtured on contemporary worship songs and an almost complete absence of some of the great hymns of the church is that they miss out on some profound and powerful theology. I know it is requires a stretch and maybe even some interpretation to get passed the arcane language of some of these hymns, but their deep message is usually worth it. Again, I know that many people shrink from that word “theology”, but they shouldn’t because theology is inevitable. “Theology” is talking about God and the way God has revealed himself in Christ for the transformation of our lives and our world. “Theology” is the articulation of our experience with God. The only real question is whether or not the theology reflected in our songs (and sermons and worship as a whole) is good, robust, God-honoring or is it flawed, or weak or woefully myopic?
And while I struggle with John Zundel’s tune that is often used, I never ceased to be amazed at the words of “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.” Its images of God’s love shown in Christ are powerful and reveal a compassionate, pure and unbounded, transforming and abiding love. It is a love that can give peace to a troubled heart, liberate a bound spirit, and empower us for life in a challenging world.
It is no secret that our lives need love just as much as our bodies need air, water and food. Only when that love touches us and teaches us how to love can our loneliness be transformed into intimacy, fear into courage and anxiety into restful hope. And while genuine, self-giving, other-affirming love is possible in human love it has its limits. Whether those limits are determined by our environment, our sets of connections, or our own imperfect nature, human love is limited.
God’s love is different from all human love. Human love is always limited and conditional even in the best of relationships. But God’s love is radically different. God’s love is based on nothing that we have or have done or can do. And while that sometimes makes me uncomfortable because as a driven, goal-oriented, achievement-based person I would like to believe that God loves me because I am so dedicated and unselfish or because of my personality or special qualities, the truth is that God’s love isn’t based on any of that. God’s love is based on nothing except God’s nature. You and I can do nothing, absolutely nothing to earn the love of God. It was there before we existed.
And a great thing about this love which God offers to us is that it bottomless as well as unconditional. No matter how deeply we try to plumb it’s depth or are immersed in God’s love, we never reach the bottom, since that doesn’t exist. God loves unconditionally, completely and unreservedly because God is love. We can love and we do love, but God IS love.
To sin is to refuse God’s love. When we sin – that is, ignore or reject God’s will and decide to go it on our own -- God doesn’t cease to love us. God doesn’t abandon us. God’s love remains. It is like the father’s love in Jesus’ story of the wayward child who finally returns to his father (Luke 15:11-32), except raised to an infinite degree. When the son returns, he finds the father waiting. In the same way, God waits, God hopes, God’s love remains. Only our ultimate rejection of that love in death severs that love, but only on our side. God’s love continues. It is a pained loved, a scorned love, but a constant love. It is a love that respects, however painful it may be, the decision to refuse to live in the love of God.
It is this love, a love that excels all earthly love that seeks to embrace me and every person on this planet. To know that love, to live in that love, however imperfectly, is to know joy. It is a reminder that we are loved by God and because we are loved, we matter.
I like a prayer by the spiritual writer Macrina Wiederkehr. She understands how difficult it is for some of us to accept that we are loved with the divine love that excels all other loves and so she prays: “O God, help me to believe the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful.” How about you?
Love divine, all loves excelling,
joy of heaven, to earth come down;
fix in us thy humble dwelling;
all thy faithful mercies crown!
Jesus thou art all compassion,
pure, unbounded love thou art;
visit us with thy salvation;
enter every trembling heart.
Breathe, O breathe thy loving Spirit
into every troubled breast!
Let us all in thee inherit;
let us find that second rest.
Take away our bent to sinning;
Alpha and Omega be;
end of faith, as its beginning,
set our hearts at liberty.
Come, Almighty to deliver,
let us all thy life receive;
suddenly return and never,
nevermore thy temples leave.
Thee we would be always blessing,
serve thee as thy hosts above,
pray and praise thee without ceasing,
glory in thy perfect love.
Finish, then, thy new creation;
pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see thy great salvation
perfectly restored in thee;
changed from glory into glory,
till in heaven we take our place,
till we cast our crowns before thee,
lost in wonder, love, and praise.
Monday, June 20, 2011
"Addiction"
What are you passionate about? What is it that gives your life purpose and direction? For some people the answer is “Nothing.” For others, it might be family, a political cause, cheering for your favorite sports team, playing computer games and trying to make it to the next level; etc. Like the Prodigal Son in the famous story told by Jesus (Luke 15) we are often driven by passions or desires that in the long run leave us empty and lost. No wonder Comedian George Carlin could make us laugh (and wince) with his comedy routine on our love for stuff and its importance in our lives. Down deep inside, we know that stuff will not ultimately satisfy us.
The writer Henri Nouwen describes this experience as “addiction.” Writing in The Return of the Prodigal Son (pp. 42-43) he says this about “addiction”.
“Addiction” might be the best word to explain the lostness that so deeply permeates contemporary society. Our addictions make us cling to what the world proclaims as the keys to self-fulfillment: accumulation of wealth and power; attainment of status and admiration; lavish consumption of food and drink; and sexual gratification without distinguishing between lust and love. These addictions create expectations that cannot but fail to satisfy our deepest needs. As long as we live within the world’s delusions, our addictions condemn us to futile quests in “the distant country” leaving us to face an endless series of disillusionments while our sense of self remains unfulfilled. In these days of increasing addictions, we have wandered far away from our Father’s home. The addicted life can aptly be designated a life lived in “a distant country” It is from there that our cry for deliverance rises up.
I am the prodigal son every time I search for unconditional love where it cannot be found. Why do I keep ignoring the place of true love and persist in looking for it elsewhere? Why do I keep leaving home where I am called a child of God, the Beloved of my Father? I am constantly surprised at how I keep taking the gifts God had given me—my health, my intellectual and emotional gifts—and keep using them to impress people, receive affirmation and praise, and compete for rewards, instead of developing them for the glory of God.
Ouch! Do you see yourself in any of this? Unfortunately, I do. Maybe my addiction and passionate pursuit isn’t to accumulate wealth and power, status and admiration, but it is often a search for recognition, affirmation and unconditional love. And like the prodigal in Jesus’ parable, I discover that what I really need and what I have really been searching for is something more basic, more radical, and more fundamental. I realize the truth that there is a passionate desire that stands behind and under all the other desires of my life. And that that fundamental passion can only be satisfied in returning home, returning to the Father’s unconditional love.
It is not easy to realize this, to “come to myself” to use the words of the parable (Luke 15:17). It is hard because as I look around, it seems that everyone has the same passion, everyone is pursuing the same goals – the successful life as defined by my culture, my society, my family and friends. It is hard to break from the script and live a different narrative. Not many of us like going against the flow, especially when it means being different. In many ways it is easier to give ourselves over to the “addictions” and illusions that hold sway over the people around us. Like those in the movie The Matrix at least we’re all sharing the same “illusion.”
We protest when confronted with our apparent addictions, whether it is alcohol, work, sex, achievements, the need for more and more entertainment and “fun” to fill our waking hours and days, or the accumulation of material things. When confronted, we defend ourselves, often by either comparing ourselves to others who we believe are far worse than we are or by pointing to others who are similar to us, so we aren’t so bad.
Addiction is the craving and need for something or things that ultimately do us harm. And the ultimate addiction is for a life lived apart from God at the center. This does the ultimate harm because it cuts us off from the real source of Life and wholeness. Addiction is destructive because it is fundamentally a form of idolatry. It is ascribing ultimate worth to something or someone that isn’t God. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was right when he said: “Whatever you can’t get enough of, that’s your god.”
But sometimes we listen and we make a move to “kick the habit”, break our addiction when we are confronted with the truth of our bondage and the toll this passion is taking on us and our soul. Some of us can do it “cold turkey”, but most of us need help. We need someone to be there – to work and walk with us. We need to find alternatives to the things that have been the focus of our lives. We need to cultivate a new focus and a new passion that liberates and empowers us rather than entraps us.
And the interesting thing is that when our relationship with God takes center stage in our lives, the other things of life – people, things, experiences, desire and passion assume their rightful place. And where there was craving and a mild to intense sense of dissatisfaction because what we used to desire and pursue didn’t ultimately satisfy, now that we are focused on the right center and desire – to know, love and live with God—the other things of life are richer and more satisfying.
Now getting there isn’t easy, as anyone who has tried to kick a habit knows. But the resources God makes available to us – the Spirit, prayer, the community of the faithful, trained counselors and compassionate friends, etc.—make it possible to break our addictions. Whether they be physical, emotional or spiritual.
Have you kicked your “addiction”? We need to live for something or someone. Our desire for things that can ensnare us and we can become addicted to is evidence that we were created to live passionately and wholly in a growing, maturing relationship with God. Have you come home to the life that God wants to give you? Or are you still in the “far country” trying to feed your addiction for things that don’t satisfy? The choice is ours.
The writer Henri Nouwen describes this experience as “addiction.” Writing in The Return of the Prodigal Son (pp. 42-43) he says this about “addiction”.
“Addiction” might be the best word to explain the lostness that so deeply permeates contemporary society. Our addictions make us cling to what the world proclaims as the keys to self-fulfillment: accumulation of wealth and power; attainment of status and admiration; lavish consumption of food and drink; and sexual gratification without distinguishing between lust and love. These addictions create expectations that cannot but fail to satisfy our deepest needs. As long as we live within the world’s delusions, our addictions condemn us to futile quests in “the distant country” leaving us to face an endless series of disillusionments while our sense of self remains unfulfilled. In these days of increasing addictions, we have wandered far away from our Father’s home. The addicted life can aptly be designated a life lived in “a distant country” It is from there that our cry for deliverance rises up.
I am the prodigal son every time I search for unconditional love where it cannot be found. Why do I keep ignoring the place of true love and persist in looking for it elsewhere? Why do I keep leaving home where I am called a child of God, the Beloved of my Father? I am constantly surprised at how I keep taking the gifts God had given me—my health, my intellectual and emotional gifts—and keep using them to impress people, receive affirmation and praise, and compete for rewards, instead of developing them for the glory of God.
Ouch! Do you see yourself in any of this? Unfortunately, I do. Maybe my addiction and passionate pursuit isn’t to accumulate wealth and power, status and admiration, but it is often a search for recognition, affirmation and unconditional love. And like the prodigal in Jesus’ parable, I discover that what I really need and what I have really been searching for is something more basic, more radical, and more fundamental. I realize the truth that there is a passionate desire that stands behind and under all the other desires of my life. And that that fundamental passion can only be satisfied in returning home, returning to the Father’s unconditional love.
It is not easy to realize this, to “come to myself” to use the words of the parable (Luke 15:17). It is hard because as I look around, it seems that everyone has the same passion, everyone is pursuing the same goals – the successful life as defined by my culture, my society, my family and friends. It is hard to break from the script and live a different narrative. Not many of us like going against the flow, especially when it means being different. In many ways it is easier to give ourselves over to the “addictions” and illusions that hold sway over the people around us. Like those in the movie The Matrix at least we’re all sharing the same “illusion.”
We protest when confronted with our apparent addictions, whether it is alcohol, work, sex, achievements, the need for more and more entertainment and “fun” to fill our waking hours and days, or the accumulation of material things. When confronted, we defend ourselves, often by either comparing ourselves to others who we believe are far worse than we are or by pointing to others who are similar to us, so we aren’t so bad.
Addiction is the craving and need for something or things that ultimately do us harm. And the ultimate addiction is for a life lived apart from God at the center. This does the ultimate harm because it cuts us off from the real source of Life and wholeness. Addiction is destructive because it is fundamentally a form of idolatry. It is ascribing ultimate worth to something or someone that isn’t God. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was right when he said: “Whatever you can’t get enough of, that’s your god.”
But sometimes we listen and we make a move to “kick the habit”, break our addiction when we are confronted with the truth of our bondage and the toll this passion is taking on us and our soul. Some of us can do it “cold turkey”, but most of us need help. We need someone to be there – to work and walk with us. We need to find alternatives to the things that have been the focus of our lives. We need to cultivate a new focus and a new passion that liberates and empowers us rather than entraps us.
And the interesting thing is that when our relationship with God takes center stage in our lives, the other things of life – people, things, experiences, desire and passion assume their rightful place. And where there was craving and a mild to intense sense of dissatisfaction because what we used to desire and pursue didn’t ultimately satisfy, now that we are focused on the right center and desire – to know, love and live with God—the other things of life are richer and more satisfying.
Now getting there isn’t easy, as anyone who has tried to kick a habit knows. But the resources God makes available to us – the Spirit, prayer, the community of the faithful, trained counselors and compassionate friends, etc.—make it possible to break our addictions. Whether they be physical, emotional or spiritual.
Have you kicked your “addiction”? We need to live for something or someone. Our desire for things that can ensnare us and we can become addicted to is evidence that we were created to live passionately and wholly in a growing, maturing relationship with God. Have you come home to the life that God wants to give you? Or are you still in the “far country” trying to feed your addiction for things that don’t satisfy? The choice is ours.
Friday, June 17, 2011
"Follow Me"
The great Danish philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard, once told a story of a flock of geese that was starting to head south to escape the blast of wintry winds. The first night they landed in a farmer’s yard and filled themselves with corn. Next morning they flew on--all, that is, except one. "The corn is good," this big goose said, "so I will stay and enjoy it another day." The next morning he decided to wait still another day, and another after that, enjoying the delicious food. Pretty soon he had developed a habit. "Tomorrow I will fly south," he said. Then came the inevitable day when the winds of winter were so severe that waiting longer would mean freezing to death. So he stretched his wings and waddled across the barnyard, picking up speed as he went. But sadly, he was too fat to fly. He had waited too long.
Are you a procrastinator? I have to admit that I often am. Sometimes it really doesn’t matter much, but there are other areas in life that do matter and that is especially true in the area of giving attention to growing as a follower of Jesus.
One of the common invitations of Jesus, especially in the Gospel of Matthew, is the call to "Follow Me." Seems simple enough. But, like many of those original listeners, we find some way to either miss the call, delay the call, or avoid the call by trying to unpack it in ways that might seem a bit more palatable. We are especially good at rationalizing. We invest a lot of time evaluating the meaning of this statement – “Follow Me.” What is the intent? Did Jesus really mean it? Is this merely hyperbole?
Jesus says, "Follow Me,"-- but we question the consequences of such an action. If we really pushed this in the church we could easily upset people, lose members and cause division. After all, it is clear that the Kingdom Jesus talks about is at odds with the “kingdom” that is me. And then there are the many ways that Jesus’ call to discipleship challenges the consumerist, entertainment-oriented, self-absorbed society in which we live. But Jesus says: “Follow Me.”
Jesus says, "Follow Me" –And we think that maybe we should slow down a bit and discuss this another time. Really, it isn’t a convenient time. There is my family, my friends, my job, my classes, my career, etc. etc. There just isn’t time.
Jesus says, "Follow Me" -- but we think we should conduct a study and then we can react with more information. Let’s parse those words. What did they mean in the first century context in which Jesus’ lived. What is the truth, the meaning behind those words. We need to study this invitation more.
Jesus says, "Follow Me" – and we wonder: but what will it cost in dollars? This is especially true for churches. Our budget is already so tight. To follow Jesus may mean that we have to re-evaluate our budget priorities and what we are spending our money on and that can be an unsettling thing to do. Let’s face it, there are pet ministries and things we have always done that might need to be set aside or scaled back if we “follow” Jesus. That might not make some people, influential people, too happy. No, we need more time to think this through, especially the financial cost.
And in the midst of all our deliberation and procrastination, it is as if God says to us: "For Jesus' sake, and your own, just follow HIM."
Scot McKnight is a professor of Religious Studies at North Park University. He has written a lot about what it means to follow Jesus. His books are not always easy to read. They can be quite disturbing, especially for those of us who feel that we have Jesus all worked out.
In a recent book, One.Life: Jesus Calls, We Follow, he tries to answer a very basic question: What is a Christian? And his basic answer is that a Christian is someone who follows Jesus. That sounds simple enough and not too different from what many of us have heard in church, Sunday School, in popular Christian devotion books, etc.
But McKnight wants to remind us that following Jesus is more than making a decision to accept Jesus. It involves a life-long journey that is committed to embracing and sharing Jesus’ kingdom vision. It is easy to get stuck at the beginning of the Christian life – having made a decision, been baptized, even pretty regular at church and still not get it. It is easy to procrastinate about moving on and following Jesus in all areas of life. Only that is enough to satisfy our deepest longings and fulfill the purpose of our existence. And only that is “following Jesus”
This is the way McKnight puts it: “Christianity isn’t enough. Religion isn’t enough. Being accepted in a church isn’t enough. Climbing the corporate ladder isn’t enough. Solving intellectual problems isn’t enough. Chasing the American dream isn’t enough. Finding the person to love isn’t enough. Sex isn’t enough. Friends aren’t enough. Science isn’t enough. Politics isn’t enough. Money isn’t enough. Clothing isn’t enough. Food and drink aren’t enough. The only thing that is enough is Jesus, and the only way to get to Jesus is to follow him, and that means one thing: giving your One.Life to him and to his dream.”
The point is that the call to “follow me” is a radical call. Jesus wants far more than to be accepted into one’s life. He wants to take over, and his essential call is to trust him enough to surrender one’s life, one’s entire being to him. And as we do that, we are swept up by that which consumed Jesus’ life – the kingdom of God, the will of God done in all areas of life.
To say “yes” to Jesus and not embrace this radical call but instead to piddle around with a safe, culturally inoffensive, tame church life is to miss the point of Jesus’ invitation. And the sad thing about it is that one day we might find ourselves like the goose at the beginning of this Musing – unable to fly, too fat, too tied to the earth to fulfill our calling and purpose.
Do you hear Jesus’ invitation – “Follow Me.” Don’t procrastinate.
Are you a procrastinator? I have to admit that I often am. Sometimes it really doesn’t matter much, but there are other areas in life that do matter and that is especially true in the area of giving attention to growing as a follower of Jesus.
One of the common invitations of Jesus, especially in the Gospel of Matthew, is the call to "Follow Me." Seems simple enough. But, like many of those original listeners, we find some way to either miss the call, delay the call, or avoid the call by trying to unpack it in ways that might seem a bit more palatable. We are especially good at rationalizing. We invest a lot of time evaluating the meaning of this statement – “Follow Me.” What is the intent? Did Jesus really mean it? Is this merely hyperbole?
Jesus says, "Follow Me,"-- but we question the consequences of such an action. If we really pushed this in the church we could easily upset people, lose members and cause division. After all, it is clear that the Kingdom Jesus talks about is at odds with the “kingdom” that is me. And then there are the many ways that Jesus’ call to discipleship challenges the consumerist, entertainment-oriented, self-absorbed society in which we live. But Jesus says: “Follow Me.”
Jesus says, "Follow Me" –And we think that maybe we should slow down a bit and discuss this another time. Really, it isn’t a convenient time. There is my family, my friends, my job, my classes, my career, etc. etc. There just isn’t time.
Jesus says, "Follow Me" -- but we think we should conduct a study and then we can react with more information. Let’s parse those words. What did they mean in the first century context in which Jesus’ lived. What is the truth, the meaning behind those words. We need to study this invitation more.
Jesus says, "Follow Me" – and we wonder: but what will it cost in dollars? This is especially true for churches. Our budget is already so tight. To follow Jesus may mean that we have to re-evaluate our budget priorities and what we are spending our money on and that can be an unsettling thing to do. Let’s face it, there are pet ministries and things we have always done that might need to be set aside or scaled back if we “follow” Jesus. That might not make some people, influential people, too happy. No, we need more time to think this through, especially the financial cost.
And in the midst of all our deliberation and procrastination, it is as if God says to us: "For Jesus' sake, and your own, just follow HIM."
Scot McKnight is a professor of Religious Studies at North Park University. He has written a lot about what it means to follow Jesus. His books are not always easy to read. They can be quite disturbing, especially for those of us who feel that we have Jesus all worked out.
In a recent book, One.Life: Jesus Calls, We Follow, he tries to answer a very basic question: What is a Christian? And his basic answer is that a Christian is someone who follows Jesus. That sounds simple enough and not too different from what many of us have heard in church, Sunday School, in popular Christian devotion books, etc.
But McKnight wants to remind us that following Jesus is more than making a decision to accept Jesus. It involves a life-long journey that is committed to embracing and sharing Jesus’ kingdom vision. It is easy to get stuck at the beginning of the Christian life – having made a decision, been baptized, even pretty regular at church and still not get it. It is easy to procrastinate about moving on and following Jesus in all areas of life. Only that is enough to satisfy our deepest longings and fulfill the purpose of our existence. And only that is “following Jesus”
This is the way McKnight puts it: “Christianity isn’t enough. Religion isn’t enough. Being accepted in a church isn’t enough. Climbing the corporate ladder isn’t enough. Solving intellectual problems isn’t enough. Chasing the American dream isn’t enough. Finding the person to love isn’t enough. Sex isn’t enough. Friends aren’t enough. Science isn’t enough. Politics isn’t enough. Money isn’t enough. Clothing isn’t enough. Food and drink aren’t enough. The only thing that is enough is Jesus, and the only way to get to Jesus is to follow him, and that means one thing: giving your One.Life to him and to his dream.”
The point is that the call to “follow me” is a radical call. Jesus wants far more than to be accepted into one’s life. He wants to take over, and his essential call is to trust him enough to surrender one’s life, one’s entire being to him. And as we do that, we are swept up by that which consumed Jesus’ life – the kingdom of God, the will of God done in all areas of life.
To say “yes” to Jesus and not embrace this radical call but instead to piddle around with a safe, culturally inoffensive, tame church life is to miss the point of Jesus’ invitation. And the sad thing about it is that one day we might find ourselves like the goose at the beginning of this Musing – unable to fly, too fat, too tied to the earth to fulfill our calling and purpose.
Do you hear Jesus’ invitation – “Follow Me.” Don’t procrastinate.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The Gift of Friendship
Rabbi, writer, and storyteller Harold Kushner shares a story about friendship:
I was sitting on a beach one summer day, watching two children, a boy and a girl, playing in the sand. They were hard at work building an elaborate sand castle by the water’s edge, with gates and towers and moats and internal passages. Just when they had nearly finished their project, a big wave came along and knocked it down, reducing it to a heap of wet sand. I expected the children to burst into tears, devastated by what had happened to all their hard work. But they surprised me. Instead, they ran up the shore away from the water, laughing and holding hands, and sat down to build another castle. I realize that they had taught me an important lesson. All the things in our lives, all the complicated structures we spend so much time and energy creating, are built on sand. Only our relationships to other people endure. Sooner or later, the wave will come along and knock down what we have worked so hard to build up. When that happens, only the person who had somebody’s hand to hold will be able to laugh. (When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough)
A few weeks back, Connie and I celebrated our 42nd anniversary. I can still remember the day when I told Connie’s dad that I was going to ask her to marry me. He smiled at me and said, “Don’t you just want to be good friends?”
At the time I was taken aback and of course said that I loved her too much to just be friends. Now, as I reflect on our 42 years together, I have come to see that conversation in a new light. I know that her father was only joking about friendship as opposed to marriage, but there is something to be said for remaining friends, even though we have become husband and wife.
Friendship, at all levels, is a gift. Someone has said that there are “friends of the road” – those who pass through—and “friends of the heart” – those with whom we are invested, connected, safe, and growing. This latter group -- these close, intimate, best friends are a rarity and we probably have only a handful in this life. These are soul mates and they are rare. As Thomas Moore notes in his book Soul Mates, “Friendship is not essentially a union of personalities, it is an attraction and magnetism of souls.” And the double blessing is when this soul mate is also your life mate.
All friendships go through stages and trials, even crises. This is also true of those special friendships. What usually keeps them together is a deep sense of commitment, communication, respect and grace. I hope that you have found such a friend or are such a friend.
Kushner is right – the waves of life, the really big ones will inevitably come and knock down the complicated structures we have worked so hard to erect in life and how blessed we are to have somebody’s hand to hold through it all. Over and over again I have seen this as a pastor. I have seen it in the lives of those who have made plans and worked hard to build a life together only to face a crisis so sudden and unexpected that their world began to tumble in around them. But they found strength and the ability to go on after the castles had tumbled in because they were able to hold on to one another. In our life together, while the waves have not been so overwhelming, Connie and I have experienced the sustaining, comforting and empowering power of not only an enduring friendship but also of the love that undergirds it. And for that, I am ever grateful.
Let me leave you with an insight from Thomas Moore: “If the body is in pain, one of the first things to look for is infection; if the soul is in pain, we might look for lack of friendship.”
Peace
I was sitting on a beach one summer day, watching two children, a boy and a girl, playing in the sand. They were hard at work building an elaborate sand castle by the water’s edge, with gates and towers and moats and internal passages. Just when they had nearly finished their project, a big wave came along and knocked it down, reducing it to a heap of wet sand. I expected the children to burst into tears, devastated by what had happened to all their hard work. But they surprised me. Instead, they ran up the shore away from the water, laughing and holding hands, and sat down to build another castle. I realize that they had taught me an important lesson. All the things in our lives, all the complicated structures we spend so much time and energy creating, are built on sand. Only our relationships to other people endure. Sooner or later, the wave will come along and knock down what we have worked so hard to build up. When that happens, only the person who had somebody’s hand to hold will be able to laugh. (When All You’ve Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough)
A few weeks back, Connie and I celebrated our 42nd anniversary. I can still remember the day when I told Connie’s dad that I was going to ask her to marry me. He smiled at me and said, “Don’t you just want to be good friends?”
At the time I was taken aback and of course said that I loved her too much to just be friends. Now, as I reflect on our 42 years together, I have come to see that conversation in a new light. I know that her father was only joking about friendship as opposed to marriage, but there is something to be said for remaining friends, even though we have become husband and wife.
Friendship, at all levels, is a gift. Someone has said that there are “friends of the road” – those who pass through—and “friends of the heart” – those with whom we are invested, connected, safe, and growing. This latter group -- these close, intimate, best friends are a rarity and we probably have only a handful in this life. These are soul mates and they are rare. As Thomas Moore notes in his book Soul Mates, “Friendship is not essentially a union of personalities, it is an attraction and magnetism of souls.” And the double blessing is when this soul mate is also your life mate.
All friendships go through stages and trials, even crises. This is also true of those special friendships. What usually keeps them together is a deep sense of commitment, communication, respect and grace. I hope that you have found such a friend or are such a friend.
Kushner is right – the waves of life, the really big ones will inevitably come and knock down the complicated structures we have worked so hard to erect in life and how blessed we are to have somebody’s hand to hold through it all. Over and over again I have seen this as a pastor. I have seen it in the lives of those who have made plans and worked hard to build a life together only to face a crisis so sudden and unexpected that their world began to tumble in around them. But they found strength and the ability to go on after the castles had tumbled in because they were able to hold on to one another. In our life together, while the waves have not been so overwhelming, Connie and I have experienced the sustaining, comforting and empowering power of not only an enduring friendship but also of the love that undergirds it. And for that, I am ever grateful.
Let me leave you with an insight from Thomas Moore: “If the body is in pain, one of the first things to look for is infection; if the soul is in pain, we might look for lack of friendship.”
Peace
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