You are currently browsing the Bruce Smith weblog archives for March, 2011.
30. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
CatWoman, the would-be Empress-hero?
CatWoman is an intriguing study in heroism, or at least, would-be heroism. Think about it. She has the raw material, it would appear, of a true-to-form hero. She is bright, capable, looks great in latex, wears a mask well, can run, jump and fight with the best of them. Where did she go wrong? Its a critical question for any who would seek to live in the fullness of God-given heroism.
CatWoman, we can safely assume, was born into this world with a super level of gifting. Her perceptive skills, at least early on, as well as her cat “vision” developed early. Apparently, those and other skills and gifts were derailed far too early in life. Her vision, supposedly characteristic of her very make-up, has become a distorted blindness.
As we observe her interaction with other heroes, like Batman for example, we find the markers of a life full of potential gone wrong. It comes out in her biting sarcasm, implanted no doubt, through many experiences of pain and distrust. It shows up equally in her clear bitterness and spite for the male hero ideal. Apparently, this vivacious, latex sporting, feline-vixen, has a chip on her shoulder toward the male hero species. We don’t know exactly why, but its clear.
Then there is the issue of her beauty. Dark, well put-together, stunning at first glance, her beauty quickly reveals itself a trap for prey. Abusing her beauty, and mis-using her attractive capabilities, she has clearly missed the point of true beauty and depth. In short, all her potentially good qualities, have turned to a wretched form of naked self-serving madness. This would-be hero has become the female feline form of the Empress with no clothes. Her life is a broken mirage. A spent, lonely, broken dream turned deadly to all who would cross her path.
Yet, what still somehow comes through, is the deeper longing within her to be “fixed”. We can see through the pain and defense, presented as offense, to the crying girl who longs to be made good again. Blinded to what good can unfold in life, scarred by all that has gone wrong, all she has done wrong herself, she finds her protection in a false heroism of aggression and sensuality. The truth of tenderness and grace has long since left her, and her entire personality and every interaction is colored by this truth she refuses to see. She does not know, is too scared of the pain to acknowledge, that the heroic power of grace at once helps her see her nakedness of character, and in the same moment extends healing and newness. Heroism, her only hope for it, is found in this reality check. The pain she fears, the pain which must be accepted and walked through, is the very road to her soul salvation and wholeness.
CatWoman. A frustrating paradox. She reminds me of a cat I encountered long ago. This cat, a “tweener” kitten at the time as best I can remember, was found by a friend. This friend, an entire family of friends actually, happened upon this lost and battered cat while en route to the grocery one day. Catching a glimpse of something in her peripheral vision, Charlene, the mom, saw this little dying tweener kitten lying in a ditch, just inside a drain. As she got out of her car and went closer to investigate, the scene became ominous. This little cat was cut wide open. So severe was the wound that Charlene could see it’s insides even as blood was oozing everywhere. She had a choice to make now. Would she take the risk, probably futile, of spending her time and money on this little cat who was surely to die at any moment? Or should she just let nature take its course? She chose the former. And she paid.
Charlene, not exactly resource full at the time, picked the little one up and rushed to the Vet ER. Surgeries later and a huge bill to boot, Charlene and her family had now become the owner of a strikingly beautiful, dark black, and unthinkably wounded pet. Charlene, a lover through and through, figured she would love, nurse, and provide all that was needed for this wounded and dying cat to come back to life and thrive. She expected, albeit unthinkingly, that this tween kitty would love her back and learn what it meant to be cared for. I’m sure she had visions of the two of them bounding through the house together in domestic bliss.
It did not quite turn out that way, as I recall. For untold months, years perhaps, this heroic effort of a loving caregiver was returned with coldness, biting, scratching, and outright hostility. It seemed like the more Charlene and the kids loved on the little character the more isolated and independent it became. And one did not dare advance without an invitation. Scarred from the unthinkable tragedy that had wounded previously, who knows how or why, this dark character was not coming easily to a life of domestication and familial normalcy. That reality could not even be imagined realistically, with its cat brain.
I have wondered if this is the kind of thing that presides in the life of CatWoman, catwomen, for that matter, the world over. Men, women, children, teens, many carry the same wounding and skittishness into their futures. Refusing to be “hurt again” and thereby insuring exactly that, they walk through all of life’s experiences and relationships with a deeply abiding presence of fear and fearsomeness. So foreign to them in the past, due to their own faults and those of others, was the experience of true goodness and trust, they cannot imagine being vulnerable and loving again for fear of rejection or imperfect result. To them, anything less than imagined perfection is colossal failure and abuse. The only justified response can be rage and vengeance.
Like CatWoman, these people make every relationship a challenge, and view all things through the broken lens of dysfunction and shattering pain. Nothing good can come of this. No amount of love will lift the mountain of debris. Only a corrected vision, imparted by God, taken on trust of His heroic character, will make a difference. Catwomen and men are right. People will fail them. But people will also love them. They are quick to see the loss and rarely see the victories of grace. They are programmed that way. They must learn, again, to fall upon their feet with equal dexterity amidst each scenario. That can only happen when God is trusted, others are loved, and grace presides through one’s presence rather than pain and rage. The over-reactions of abuse, fear, and fault-finding amidst their own failures must be abandoned for a view of reality more in touch with the goodness those around them seek to bring. This is the only way back to the heroic life CatWoman clearly longs for, desperately.
CatWoman. So much potential. So much pain. A hero in waiting, with few lives left. Once a lover of poetry, now a swindler of potions. If I could write her a poem and send it to her address in the land of heroes (currently residing in the neighborhood of Actor-Villans) it would read something like this…
The Cat
From the plunder of a broken jungle she crept,
Fierce, firery, forlorn,
This cat, thinking she were awake,
For years had only slept.
Running wild, jumping about,
She, roaming, fuming, playing in the night,
Had become to all inhabitants of the jungle,
A beautifully fearsome fright.
Born with a coat and a heart full of promise,
Lost and broken she became,
Giving away her heart, and soul,
She had become, somehow, wounded and lame.
From that place of haunting pain she leaps,
Day after day, night after night,
Trying desperately, continually,
to find nourishment while devouring the meat.
The prey, the play,
Neither seem to turn back the decay,
Its still a jungle inside her,
This cat knows no other way.
Domestication, sublimity, both, to her,
A false and unsatisfying dream,
For she’s trapped amidst the brush,
The blood and sweat oozes all agleam.
Knowing not where she came from,
Or, who, to her, could have been so mean,
Every would be friendly beast she encounters,
Is greeted with her defensive and grizzly scream.
Where does her tale lead,
Shall the jungle give way to a desert,
Or can she, will she,
Ever find that stream.
The stream,
Its there, outside the jungle,
Or so she’s been told,
But her vision, its been dampened, grown old.
Once, and then again,
She ventured out and took a risk,
She actually let that handsome beast come near,
But was pounded by his fist.
It is the fist that still holds her today,
Tied to this infested jungle,
Or, perhaps, it is true,
Its really the other way.
The garden, it was there,
Beside the stream,
Where she just pasted through,
But the mirage of the desert, that she embraced as true.
The vision,
That should be her strength,
She has seen so much, after-all,
And its a cat’s vision which reigns over all.
But, this, this cat, remains imprisoned,
Imprisoned in the darkness,
Even while asleep,
The darkness from within, her soul it seeks to keep.
Will the journey ever venture forward,
Will it find that lovely stream,
Will the garden bloom with roses,
Will the wounds become a seam?
Its not about the jungle,
Its obvious that should seem,
But cataracts are potent,
Hiding what others then and now have seen.
The cat, it roams, it prowls,
The jungle is getting thicker,
The river is slowing down,
The garden is abloom, waiting to be found.
It is there in the garden,
The mirage set aside,
Kindness, love, healing,
Can be brought to her gaping, bleeding side.
The lashes, they are deep it is true,
But the balm of the flowers there
More potent are they, the sages know,
Than the dripping, crying, reddish hue.
There is a balm in Gilead,
Its what will heal this cat and you,
Its always there for each of us,
It reaches our past and heals fully too.
Find your way through the jungle,
The stream is there for the few,
The few that abandon the desert,
And long for the sweetness of morning dew.
The cat must cease her daily scratching,
She must die to the law of that broken zoo,
If she is to have a future and find healing,
Vision must be restored and her seeing sighted new.
I would also tell CatWoman about that little tweener cat, once so deeply wounded, violent, and afraid. Eventually, as the years past, though the scars remained, that grown-up cat quit fighting those that loved so much. When the claws were withdrawn, the heart reopened without fear, and tenderness re-found, that cat became a super-cat, a super-lover, a thriving member of a family of grace. Life was re-imagined, proper vision was restored, and a personality was transformed. I wonder, often, if that cat remembers the very day when love drove by, stopped at that ditch, and took a risk on one nearly lost for good. Oh, for such grace and goodness of God to be revealed to, in, and for each of us. May it be accepted, embraced, responded to in kind. And to God, The SuperHero of all heroes, be the glory.
Bruce Smith
optimuslife.org
blog.optimuschoice.com
soulstormsite.com
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »
30. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
CatWoman, the would-be Empress-hero?
CatWoman is an intriguing study in heroism, or at least, would-be heroism. Think about it. She has the raw material, it would appear, of a true-to-form hero. She is bright, capable, looks great in latex, wears a mask well, can run, jump and fight with the best of them. Where did she go wrong? Its a critical question for any who would seek to live in the fullness of God-given heroism.
CatWoman, we can safely assume, was born into this world with a super level of gifting. Her perceptive skills, at least early on, as well as her cat “vision” developed early. Apparently, those and other skills and gifts were derailed far too early in life. Her vision, supposedly characteristic of her very make-up, has become a distorted blindness.
As we observe her interaction with other heroes, like Batman for example, we find the markers of a life full potential gone wrong. It comes out in her biting sarcasm, implanted no doubt, through many experiences of pain and distrust. It shows up equally in her clear bitterness and spite for the male hero ideal. Apparently, this vivacious, latex sporting, feline-vixen, has a chip on her shoulder toward the male hero species. We don’t know exactly why, but its clear.
Then there is the issue of her beauty. Dark, well put-together, stunning at first glance, her beauty quickly reveals itself a trap for prey. Abusing her beauty, and mis-using her attractive capabilities, she has clearly missed the point of true beauty and depth. In short, all her potentially good qualities, have turned to a wretched form of naked self-serving madness. This would-be hero has become the female feline form of the Empress with no clothes. Her life is a broken mirage. A spent, lonely, broken dream turned deadly to all who would cross her path.
Yet, what still somehow comes through, is the deeper longing within her to be “fixed”. We can see through the pain and defense, presented as offense, to the crying girl who longs to be made good again. Blinded to what good can unfold in life, scarred by all that has gone wrong, all she has done wrong herself, she finds her protection in a false heroism of aggression and sensuality. The truth of tenderness and grace has long since left her, and her entire personality and every interaction is colored by this truth she refuses to see. She does not know, is too scared of the pain to acknowledge, that the heroic power of grace at once helps her see her nakedness of character, and in the same moment extends healing and newness. Heroism, her only hope for it, is found in this reality check. The pain she fears, the pain which must be accepted and walked through, is the very road to her soul salvation and wholeness.
CatWoman. A frustrating paradox. She reminds me of a cat I encountered long ago. This cat, a “tweener” kitten at the time as best I can remember, was found by a friend. This friend, an entire family of friends actually, happened upon this lost and battered cat while en route to the grocery one day. Catching a glimpse of something in her peripheral vision, Charlene, the mom, saw this little dying tweener kitten lying in a ditch, just inside a drain. As she got out of her car and went closer to investigate, the scene became ominous. This little cat was cut wide open. So severe was the wound that Charlene could see it’s insides even as blood was oozing everywhere. She had a choice to make now. Would she take the risk, probably futile, of spending her time and money on this little cat who was surely to die at any moment? Or should she just let nature take its course? She chose the former. And she paid.
Charlene, not exactly resource full at the time, picked the little one up and rushed to the Vet ER. Surgeries later and a huge bill to boot, Charlene and her family had now become the owner of a strikingly beautiful, dark black, and unthinkably wounded pet. Charlene, a lover through and through, figured she would love, nurse, and provide all that was needed for this wounded and dying cat to come back to life and thrive. She expected, albeit unthinkingly, that this tween kitty would love her back and learn what it meant to be cared for. I’m sure she had visions of the two of them bounding through the house together in domestic bliss.
It did not quite turn out that way, as I recall. For untold months, years perhaps, this heroic effort of a loving caregiver was returned with coldness, biting, scratching, and outright hostility. It seemed like the more Charlene and the kids loved on the little character the more isolated and independent it became. And one did not dare advance without an invitation. Scarred from the unthinkable tragedy that had wounded previously, who knows how or why, this dark character was not coming easily to a life of domestication and familial normalcy. That reality could not even be imagined realistically, with its cat brain.
I have wondered if this is the kind of thing that presides in the life of CatWoman, catwomen, for that matter, the world over. Men, women, children, teens, many carry the same wounding and skittishness into their futures. Refusing to be “hurt again” and thereby insuring exactly that, they walk through all of life’s experiences and relationships with a deeply abiding presence of fear and fearsomeness. So foreign to them in the past, due to their own faults and those of others, was the experience of true goodness and trust, they cannot imagine being vulnerable and loving again for fear of rejection or imperfect result. To them, anything less than imagined perfection is colossal failure and abuse. The only justified response can be rage and vengeance.
Like CatWoman, these people make every relationship a challenge, and view all things through the broken lens of dysfunction and shattering pain. Nothing good can come of this. No amount of love will lift the mountain of debris. Only a corrected vision, imparted by God, taken on trust of His heroic character, will make a difference. Catwomen and men are right. People will fail them. But people will also love them. They are quick to see the loss and rarely see the victories of grace. They are programmed that way. They must learn, again, to fall upon their feet with equal dexterity amidst each scenario. That can only happen when God is trusted, others are loved, and grace presides through one’s presence rather than pain and rage. The over-reactions of abuse, fear, and fault-finding amidst their own failures must be abandoned for a view of reality more in touch with the goodness those around them seek to bring. This is the only way back to the heroic life CatWoman clearly longs for, desperately.
CatWoman. So much potential. So much pain. A hero in waiting, with few lives left. Once a lover of poetry, now a swindler of potions. If I could write her a poem and send it to her address in the land of heroes (currently residing in the neighborhood of Actor-Villans) it would read something like this…
The Cat
From the plunder of a broken jungle she crept,
Fierce, firery, forlorn,
This cat, thinking she were awake,
For years had only slept.
Running wild, jumping about,
She, roaming, fuming, playing in the night,
Had become to all inhabitants of the jungle,
A beautifully fearsome fright.
Born with a coat and a heart full of promise,
Lost and broken she became,
Giving away her heart, and soul,
She had become, somehow, wounded and lame.
From that place of haunting pain she leaps,
Day after day, night after night,
Trying desperately, continually,
to find nourishment while devouring the meat.
The prey, the play,
Neither seem to turn back the decay,
Its still a jungle inside her,
This cat knows no other way.
Domestication, sublimity, both, to her,
A false and unsatisfying dream,
For she’s trapped amidst the brush,
The blood and sweat oozes all agleam.
Knowing not where she came from,
Or, who, to her, could have been so mean,
Every would be friendly beast she encounters,
Is greeted with her defensive and grizzly scream.
Where does her tale lead,
Shall the jungle give way to a desert,
Or can she, will she,
Ever find that stream.
The stream,
Its there, outside the jungle,
Or so she’s been told,
But her vision, its been dampened, grown old.
Once, and then again,
She ventured out and took a risk,
She actually let that handsome beast come near,
But was pounded by his fist.
It is the fist that still holds her today,
Tied to this infested jungle,
Or, perhaps, it is true,
Its really the other way.
The garden, it was there,
Beside the stream,
Where she just pasted through,
But the mirage of the desert, that she embraced as true.
The vision,
That should be her strength,
She has seen so much, after-all,
And its a cat’s vision which reigns over all.
But, this, this cat, remains imprisoned,
Imprisoned in the darkness,
Even while asleep,
The darkness from within, her soul it seeks to keep.
Will the journey ever venture forward,
Will it find that lovely stream,
Will the garden bloom with roses,
Will the wounds become a seam?
Its not about the jungle,
Its obvious that should seem,
But cataracts are potent,
Hiding what others then and now have seen.
The cat, it roams, it prowls,
The jungle is getting thicker,
The river is slowing down,
The garden is abloom, waiting to be found.
It is there in the garden,
The mirage set aside,
Kindness, love, healing,
Can be brought to her gaping, bleeding side.
The lashes, they are deep it is true,
But the balm of the flowers there
More potent are they, the sages know,
Than the dripping, crying, reddish hue.
There is a balm in Gilead,
Its what will heal this cat and you,
Its always there for each of us,
It reaches our past and heals fully too.
Find your way through the jungle,
The stream is there for the few,
The few that abandon the desert,
And long for the sweetness of morning dew.
The cat must cease her daily scratching,
She must die to the law of that broken zoo,
If she is to have a future and find healing,
Vision must be restored and her seeing sighted new.
I would also tell CatWoman about that little tweener cat, once so deeply wounded, violent, and afraid. Eventually, as the years past, though the scars remained, that grown-up cat quit fighting those that loved so much. When the claws were withdrawn, the heart reopened without fear, and tenderness re-found, that cat became a super-cat, a super-lover, a thriving member of a family of grace. Life was re-imagined, proper vision was restored, and a personality was transformed. I wonder, often, if that cat remembers the very day when love drove by, stopped at that ditch, and took a risk on one nearly lost for good. Oh, for such grace and goodness of God to be revealed to, in, and for each of us. May it be accepted, embraced, responded to in kind. And to God, The SuperHero of all heroes, be the glory.
Bruce Smith
optimuslife.org
blog.optimuschoice.com
soulstormsite.com
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »
28. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
Death by After Shock, Living in the land of Tremors Just about a year ago, exactly, I penned the words below in the aftermath of the Chile and Haiti earthquakes. Our world now faces the challenges of new disasters in Japan and beyond. Our culture, as evidenced in the tragic soap opera unfolding in the lives of those like Charlie Sheen, still faces the tremors of brokenness so pervasive we have grown cold by it and actually find it entertaining. The message below, which originally brought much feedback, is I believe, still relevant. Please, read on and pass it on to those you may know who could benefit from it.
As anyone who has been watching the news lately is aware, our world is shaking, literally shaking, as our planet’s tectonic plates converge with violence. The aftermath of the earthquakes in Haiti and now Chile is difficult to watch. The tragedy which has unfolded leaves one squeamish in a tangible sense. Bodies lying, decaying on rubble strewn streets, tales of the stench in the air, children dismembered. The site is gruesome. Do doubt, far more gruesome for those witnessing it and living in it firsthand.
It is difficult not to be moved by compassion unless one’s heart is totally calloused and hardened, when viewing such sites in our world. Seeing this kind of life-shaking thing unfold, something inside most of us screams, “Those poor people!”, “How can I help?!”, “I want to help!”, “Let’s rescue them!”
This being so, and because this news is fresh in our minds, I think its an apt metaphor for our series on Spiritual Autopsies. Why? Look around you. Have you not seen the very same thing, in a spiritual, emotional, relational, and psychological sense in the people you have known?
All around us everyday people are living beneath the rubble of victimization, violence, abuse, demoralization, and inner quaking. In a spiritual sense, many have had no choice but to endure the victimization they have experienced. They need someone to come along side of them and bring the hopeful resurrection power of the gospel to their lives. Many others, perhaps still impacted by the pain of their past, have chosen to live amongst the tumbling ruins of life. These are those people who have seen the difficulties of life, and have chosen to live amidst the death and decay, rather than embrace the rescue which has been extended to them.
Perhaps you have seen these quake victims around you. Perhaps you are one of them yourself. Broken by the tumbling world around them, these spiritually dead ones have made a conscious decision to remain in the epicenter of the pain despite being offered help and healing. Its a tough thing to witness. It breaks your heart through and through.
The girl who was abandoned or abused by a parent or loved one, the spouse broken in two by the shaking of infidelity, the man or woman living in the aftermath of a broken lifelong dream. The profiles are endless, but the story of these living dead is the same. The way out from under the rubble is to acknowledge that we live in a shaking world, and that bad things do happen, but then to make a decided run from the area of disaster toward a new way of living.
To live, or rather to die, amidst the chaos and carnage of inner quaking is to continue in the same patterns which brought the very disaster in the first place. For some its a continuation of relating patterns which can only bring division and strife. For others its to embrace the catastrophic pursuit of fun at every turn and to ignore the unfolding of wounds which result from that approach. Still others refuse to see the impending quake which is sure to come if they start on an all out pleasure trail early in life or early on in the aftermath of mistreatment or failure. Whatever the day to day realities are, the result is the same. Life in the land of ongoing tremors only breeds more brokenness.
Part of this death story is that the walking wounded refuse to see our groaning world for what it is. They refuse to admit that the pathways of this world’s fun house are littered with debris. For them, the falling rubble of life lived in nightclubs, immoral relationships, anger, bitterness, self-absorbing focus, and the like, is ignored despite their dysfunction, pain, and ongoing loss. All the while, God sends His rescue team to comb through the chaos and offer help. Too often the wounded only hide from and disregard the rescue effort. This is born out in research conducted studying those that are being rescued from the sex slave industry. Too accustomed to the gross abuse and misery, they cannot imagine a different life beyond the twisted “care” of a pimp. Satan seeks to pimp us all out to one form of imprisonment or another. We have to see it.
The scriptures tell us in Romans 8:22 that we live in a world that is groaning, longing for the day when things are set right. We are also told in Romans 8:37 and following, that those called by God, and in His hand, can face anything this world brings and yet come out full of life, health, joy, peace, and with the fruit of the Spirit (God’s character) defining us.
Death by aftershock, then, remains a choice for each of us. Are we, as secular psychologists suggest, doomed to a life of miserable and broken interaction, if we have endured a tough past? Are we, based upon our past lifestyle, unable to change our stripes after decades of behavior patterns?
The answer to these questions, from a biblical perspective, is a resounding “NO!” We are not doomed to repeat the failures and mistakes and patterns of the past. We do not have to carry our brokenness with us. We can flee the scene and run toward the light of newness. We can do pleasure differently. We can have more enduring and enriching friendships. We can experience the kind of love only God offers us. We can lead others toward the same.
The greatest problem for many is not the desire to get out from under the rubble. Rather, its the moment by moment desire and commitment required to make it out and far away. For most, really, the desire is there, yet only one foot makes it over the rubble and into the new world. Too many who crave a new way are still drawn back to the old broken way of life. They stand straddling the perimeter between life and death, past and future. If this is you, you must know that your only hope of escape is to stop looking back, stop dragging your feet, and to get moving like never before toward the life God has for you. If you are spending your time with others who are straddling the perimeter with you, you are asking for more of the same. Again, your way out is to grab onto those who are fleeing the scene, at all costs, and run with them to safety and shelter.
You may be damaged so severely that you need a spiritual medic. Find one. You may be so entrapped in patterns of the past that you need a mentor to help you find a disciplined pattern of newness. Get one. You may need to educate yourself on what life really could look like on the other side if you have never seen it in all its glory. Find someone to help you get it done.
Death by aftershock is a gruesome reality in our world. Can you imagine being in Haiti or Chile yourself, and being rocked by the earthquake? Can you see yourself trapped beneath the rubble for days, what seems like years? Can you then see loving, courageous, and devoted people coming for your rescue? What would you do?
Maybe this very thing is happening for you now. Maybe this is exactly where your life is and you have not fully owned it. Can you, again, envision, on CNN tonight, a scene where rescue workers are feverishly attempting to rescue victims beneath the rubble, victims dismembered, bleeding, gasping for breath? And yet, as the rescuers get within arms reach, the victims look them in the face, smile, and turn away to die with each other. Is there a more horrifying scene than to see others minimize the desperation they are really dealing with?
Sadly, many in our world live this very scene day in and day out. They actively embrace a life filled with tremors. One aftershock after the other, never learning or moving on. They actually, by daily choices, pursuits, relationships, patterns, choose to run headlong into the rubble to die a slow and painful death. There is a rescue. There is a hope. New life is out there. What, in God’s name, are you waiting for? Are you thriving in the land of aftershocks? Do you really think things are going to get better where you are, how you are? Wake up from your death. Run from the trap. Find healing from the pain. The groaning which overwhelms you is your soul crying out for newness. He is extending you a rescue plan.
Will you take it?
Bruce Smith optimuslife.org
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »
28. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
Death by After Shock, Living in the land of Tremors Just about a year ago, exactly, I penned the words below in the aftermath of the Chile and Haiti earthquakes. Our world now faces the challenges of new disasters in Japan and beyond. Our culture, as evidenced in the tragic soap opera unfolding in the lives of those like Charlie Sheen, still faces the tremors of brokenness so pervasive we have grown cold by it and actually find it entertaining. The message below, which originally brought much feedback, is I believe, still relevant. Please, read on and pass it on to those you may know who could benefit from it.
As anyone who has been watching the news lately is aware, our world is shaking, literally shaking, as our planet’s tectonic plates converge with violence. The aftermath of the earthquakes in Haiti and now Chile is difficult to watch. The tragedy which has unfolded leaves one squeamish in a tangible sense. Bodies lying, decaying on rubble strewn streets, tales of the stench in the air, children dismembered. The site is gruesome. Do doubt, far more gruesome for those witnessing it and living in it firsthand.
It is difficult not to be moved by compassion unless one’s heart is totally calloused and hardened, when viewing such sites in our world. Seeing this kind of life-shaking thing unfold, something inside most of us screams, “Those poor people!”, “How can I help?!”, “I want to help!”, “Let’s rescue them!”
This being so, and because this news is fresh in our minds, I think its an apt metaphor for our series on Spiritual Autopsies. Why? Look around you. Have you not seen the very same thing, in a spiritual, emotional, relational, and psychological sense in the people you have known?
All around us everyday people are living beneath the rubble of victimization, violence, abuse, demoralization, and inner quaking. In a spiritual sense, many have had no choice but to endure the victimization they have experienced. They need someone to come along side of them and bring the hopeful resurrection power of the gospel to their lives. Many others, perhaps still impacted by the pain of their past, have chosen to live amongst the tumbling ruins of life. These are those people who have seen the difficulties of life, and have chosen to live amidst the death and decay, rather than embrace the rescue which has been extended to them.
Perhaps you have seen these quake victims around you. Perhaps you are one of them yourself. Broken by the tumbling world around them, these spiritually dead ones have made a conscious decision to remain in the epicenter of the pain despite being offered help and healing. Its a tough thing to witness. It breaks your heart through and through.
The girl who was abandoned or abused by a parent or loved one, the spouse broken in two by the shaking of infidelity, the man or woman living in the aftermath of a broken lifelong dream. The profiles are endless, but the story of these living dead is the same. The way out from under the rubble is to acknowledge that we live in a shaking world, and that bad things do happen, but then to make a decided run from the area of disaster toward a new way of living.
To live, or rather to die, amidst the chaos and carnage of inner quaking is to continue in the same patterns which brought the very disaster in the first place. For some its a continuation of relating patterns which can only bring division and strife. For others its to embrace the catastrophic pursuit of fun at every turn and to ignore the unfolding of wounds which result from that approach. Still others refuse to see the impending quake which is sure to come if they start on an all out pleasure trail early in life or early on in the aftermath of mistreatment or failure. Whatever the day to day realities are, the result is the same. Life in the land of ongoing tremors only breeds more brokenness.
Part of this death story is that the walking wounded refuse to see our groaning world for what it is. They refuse to admit that the pathways of this world’s fun house are littered with debris. For them, the falling rubble of life lived in nightclubs, immoral relationships, anger, bitterness, self-absorbing focus, and the like, is ignored despite their dysfunction, pain, and ongoing loss. All the while, God sends His rescue team to comb through the chaos and offer help. Too often the wounded only hide from and disregard the rescue effort. This is born out in research conducted studying those that are being rescued from the sex slave industry. Too accustomed to the gross abuse and misery, they cannot imagine a different life beyond the twisted “care” of a pimp. Satan seeks to pimp us all out to one form of imprisonment or another. We have to see it.
The scriptures tell us in Romans 8:22 that we live in a world that is groaning, longing for the day when things are set right. We are also told in Romans 8:37 and following, that those called by God, and in His hand, can face anything this world brings and yet come out full of life, health, joy, peace, and with the fruit of the Spirit (God’s character) defining us.
Death by aftershock, then, remains a choice for each of us. Are we, as secular psychologists suggest, doomed to a life of miserable and broken interaction, if we have endured a tough past? Are we, based upon our past lifestyle, unable to change our stripes after decades of behavior patterns?
The answer to these questions, from a biblical perspective, is a resounding “NO!” We are not doomed to repeat the failures and mistakes and patterns of the past. We do not have to carry our brokenness with us. We can flee the scene and run toward the light of newness. We can do pleasure differently. We can have more enduring and enriching friendships. We can experience the kind of love only God offers us. We can lead others toward the same.
The greatest problem for many is not the desire to get out from under the rubble. Rather, its the moment by moment desire and commitment required to make it out and far away. For most, really, the desire is there, yet only one foot makes it over the rubble and into the new world. Too many who crave a new way are still drawn back to the old broken way of life. They stand straddling the perimeter between life and death, past and future. If this is you, you must know that your only hope of escape is to stop looking back, stop dragging your feet, and to get moving like never before toward the life God has for you. If you are spending your time with others who are straddling the perimeter with you, you are asking for more of the same. Again, your way out is to grab onto those who are fleeing the scene, at all costs, and run with them to safety and shelter.
You may be damaged so severely that you need a spiritual medic. Find one. You may be so entrapped in patterns of the past that you need a mentor to help you find a disciplined pattern of newness. Get one. You may need to educate yourself on what life really could look like on the other side if you have never seen it in all its glory. Find someone to help you get it done.
Death by aftershock is a gruesome reality in our world. Can you imagine being in Haiti or Chile yourself, and being rocked by the earthquake? Can you see yourself trapped beneath the rubble for days, what seems like years? Can you then see loving, courageous, and devoted people coming for your rescue? What would you do?
Maybe this very thing is happening for you now. Maybe this is exactly where your life is and you have not fully owned it. Can you, again, envision, on CNN tonight, a scene where rescue workers are feverishly attempting to rescue victims beneath the rubble, victims dismembered, bleeding, gasping for breath? And yet, as the rescuers get within arms reach, the victims look them in the face, smile, and turn away to die with each other. Is there a more horrifying scene than to see others minimize the desperation they are really dealing with?
Sadly, many in our world live this very scene day in and day out. They actively embrace a life filled with tremors. One aftershock after the other, never learning or moving on. They actually, by daily choices, pursuits, relationships, patterns, choose to run headlong into the rubble to die a slow and painful death. There is a rescue. There is a hope. New life is out there. What, in God’s name, are you waiting for? Are you thriving in the land of aftershocks? Do you really think things are going to get better where you are, how you are? Wake up from your death. Run from the trap. Find healing from the pain. The groaning which overwhelms you is your soul crying out for newness. He is extending you a rescue plan.
Will you take it?
Bruce Smith optimuslife.org
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14. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
Friends, readers,Bruce just completed his manuscript for his new book, “Live Like a SuperHero: bite-sized truth for life in a dog eat dog world”! Now we need YOU. His agent, excited about the manuscript, wants to present the book to major publishers. In order to get the attention of such publishers it would help a great deal to increase the blog subscriber numbers as much as possible as quick as possible. Will you help us sign people up? Please, forward your encouragement for all your friends, family, and network to go to blog.optimuschoice.com and sign up and follow the blogs. Publishers like to see strong visit numbers when negotiating a contract with writers.Please, help us make this blog and Bruce’s writings an even greater tool for reaching and helping many find the life God intends for them to live. The new book, Bruce’s second, and the first in a new series, is geared toward enabling people to view life from a fresh perspective, find hope amidst the challenges of life, and charge forward with passion for a bigger and more vibrant future. Who doesn’t need that kind of encouragement?Let’s see if we can really ramp up the numbers in the coming weeks! We so appreciate your ongoing support, readership, comments, and referrals.Grace and Peace,optimuslife.orgsoulstormsite.com
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12. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
Tremblor: making sense of a shaking world
So violent was the thrusting of the earth, reports now suggest, Japan’s coastline was moved by 8 feet, and the earth’s axis was altered by 4 inches. Staggering. Equally staggering, more staggering on an emotional and relational level, is the jolting taking place in the hearts of families, communities, entire cultures at this moment. This is painful. Like many other disasters in days and years gone by, some recent, others not so close, 9/11, Oklahoma, Indonesian Tsunami, quakes in China, Chile, and other parts of the world, Hurricane Katrina, …on and on, this newest “natural disaster” stands as a stark reminder of the brevity of life. It speaks meaning, even as it questions meaning, and it focuses us on human pain even as we all have our better inclinations fanned into flame as we reach out to help.
We are told in biblical texts that all the earth, our known world, is in a state of yearning, trembling, crying out for a way of being it has not known since the time of Adam and Eve, when the cataclysmic failure of two people, created by God for perfect harmony, led to the as yet unrelenting tide of pain and suffering on our planet. The Fall, as it is known, was not merely the seismic shift in the state of their relationship, rather, far more reaching, it was the fall of a created order and the unleashing of tremblors within the earth and within the heart of every living person. The rift between the human race and its Creator changed everything.
Our hearts, our world, as witnessed in the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, continue to cry out for a day of restoration and rest from the tragedies of life we know far too well. As in the pains of childbirth, the scriptures say, the earth (and all of us in it) is crying out with yearning, pain, and hope that better things are possible, maybe just ahead. We cannot bear the thought that all of this is all there is. The fact that “random happenings” of this nature do affect us emotionally, spiritually and otherwise, in fact, points us to a reality that at some point, in some way, at some time, amidst some situation and circumstance, another reality must unfold. We have an instinctive longing for things to be set right. This is off kilter, and we know this to be true fundamentally. It it were not so it would not bother us so.
Something, it is clear, despite all its beauty, order, and magnificence, is not right in the world. And as the daily papers make clear about the affairs of men and women, something remains amiss in us. We are in need of redemption, spiritually, morally, physically, socially, globally. Is there a hope, a new day, a place of rest from what we seem to witness in increasing regularity? Is it supposed to be this way? Is there a way out, a day of recalibration, adjustment, realignment coming?
Just last night, after a day of news bombardment and thousands of horrifying images pelting my soul all day long, I snuck away with my wife and went to the symphony. Here, despite all the pain unfolding thousands of miles away, beauty and meaning recaptured me. The notes, the movements, the crescendos, the grandeur, all pointed me to a place where goodness wins out. In fact, somewhat surprisingly, as I sat there trying to escape the bigger realities of the world, God captured me, led me to worship Him and His creative brilliance, and He actually gave me much needed direction, rest, and renewal. I walked out refreshed, overwhelmed by the personal and intimate touch of God, and thanked Him for the reminder that He is with us, with me, regardless of what I see going on around me. I found the something more I knew was there within the life of each instrument and on the wings of its poetic harmonies.
From the symphony, my wife and I sped our way to the movie theater on this rare night without kids or big-people obligations, and we took in some more creative respite. As we sat in the dark, holding hands, enjoying our popcorn (actually she alone ate an entire large vat of it despite my protests!), and resting a bit more, we were encouraged again by the handiwork and craft of talented people. Witnessing this creative genius alone is enough to remind us that behind such creative powers there must be an absolute creative One who gives such gifts. Creativity of this nature cannot spring forth from a non-active, non-living, and non-existing non-entity. It’s illogical.
The movie we watched, The Adjustment Bureau, was in itself (intended or not) a testimony to God at work amidst our misery, and His desire to make life work for us. The protagonists in the movie, each in pursuit of a bigger life, each with significant talents and abilities, seem to be falling in love. Yet, “the powers that be” up above, have another agenda for their lives it seems. As the two of them spend more time together it is clear they are intent on being together for the long haul. One problem. The “bureau” seems to think, or somehow know, that if the two are together (at least in their present state and reality) they will never be all they were meant to be in this life and this will have implications far reaching beyond anything they can imagine. The ripples of such a pursuit will unfold like a tsunami in untold lives and for untold years to come. Surely we can all relate to such an idea.
This is where the movie gets a bit complex, the questions grow larger, and the plot thickens. The protagonists, a politician on the way to the White House, as he is told, and a gifted dancer, soon to be world famous, it is revealed, can only see these big dreams accomplished if they remain apart. Together, the bureau suggests, their lives will collide, they will throw each other off course, and tilt the axis of their intended lives.
Rebelling amidst their confusion and frustration, the couple sets their hearts and focus on remaining together despite every attempt of the bureau to keep them apart. Feeling that they know better, the couple is assured their love is enough to win the day. Ah, herein lies the problem we discover. Together, the bureau tells, they will settle for each other and fail to pursue the bigger ambitions the bureau has for them. That they would be enough for each other is both an affront and a failure in the eyes of the bureau. Life is bigger than any one person. Allegiance to the bureau and its unseen ambitions is the bigger aim they are to pursue. There is a deep undeniable truth in this bit of plot structure. But more is to come.
Eventually, the forlorn lovers run, kick, scream, and make their way to the top of the bureau, and while seemingly trapped and at their end, surrounded by those who would take them down, they are, surprisingly, given hope, and granted the desire of their hearts. It seems as if all the trials, pain, questions, and recalibrating of their hearts has prepared them for a new twist, a new plan, a revised future. The bureau seems to be more committed to them and to their place in the world than was ever let on by those with less understanding and compassion. It was not just about the rules. The plan, in fact, had always been for them to be together, yet many things along the way had interfered with that plan, and the plan was being constantly adjusted in order to get them, and others, where they needed to be with the least amount of ripples. The goal had always been for them to be fully alive as individuals, and fully equipped to propel one another forward to bigger and better things. Hearts had to be ready, however, and passions had to be set right. This is always the case in all things. Sometimes a “no” from the Bureau, is a “Not at this time” or a “Not in this place” or a “Not in this condition”, or “Let’s get some things adjusted first”.
What the adjustment bureau, somewhat confusingly, reminds us of, is the reality behind our plans for life. There is something bigger at work. Behind all the wins, losses, twists, turns, horrors, and havoc of life, there is One who is at work even when we cannot see it. Even in the smallest things, the spilled cup of coffee, the missed plane, the wrong turn, the failed alarm clock…He is at work. His greatest goal for us is to understand that life is bigger than the small goals we set for ourselves, the person next to us, or anything else. Life, in its fullest sense, as Adam and Eve seemed to have dismissed for a time, thereby unleashing a tsunami of pain into the world, is about walking in intimacy with our Creator. Until this is set on the proper axis nothing else will be right no matter how bad we want it.
The One of untold beauty, order, creativity, brilliance, wonder, love, gentleness, care, compassion, and more, is what we have greatest need of. He is for us even when we make every attempt to get off script. At every page turn, every scene, on every note, in each movement, He is there longing for us to respond to His operatic score. He knows full well that it is here that our souls find meaning and rest.
For those with lives that have gotten off track, and for a planet that has been knocked off axis in so many ways, God stands ready and willing to adjust our hearts and our plots in order that we might play the lead in the adventure He has designed for us. He is not a killjoy. He is not a task-master. He is not looking to spoil your fun or ruin relationships that would be good for you. He knows what you need, and what you don’t need, and He knows how the world needs you. He has a screenplay that fits you perfectly. You may have messed it up. You may have closed the cover on the script given to you. And it is at that moment your life began to unravel. In turning from Him we find convulsive and soul wrecking realities. It must be so. It follows logically. We will never see our own self-serving narratives bring health or peace because our minds are too small to conceive of the complexities and nuances of a world so big we had no part in creating it. The climax of our adventure comes into form if and only when we embrace the creative agenda of the One who can lead us properly even when we mess up a line, miss a mark, or blunder a scene.
Life is messy. Pain is real. Loss is a daily reality. This is true globally, and it is true personally. Yet, behind the curtain, we can be assured that God can, does, and will continue to adjust us, remake us, redirect us, and love us to Himself. He knows our pain. He experiences our pain. He too, more than any of us, more than the earth itself, is longing for the day when all is set right. That day, a day to look forward to, is one in which WE will be set right, and all the earth will rejoice and worship Him who is our center. Without Him we are surely without hope, without meaning, without a future. In Him we find our purposes, our loves, our place in this world, and our source of compassion, tenderness and comfort.
It is the very reality of pains of the earth we are now witnessing which causes us to look forward for redemption in the deepest sense. Our prayer should be that we can play a role in helping others find their way, heal the hurt, and pick up the pieces. We can watch helplessly or we can reach out, assured that as we do so, new ripples of meaning, purpose and compassion will help those in need in ways we will never fully understand. Whether we know it or not, the plot is now being adjusted for thousands tossed to and fro by this disaster. God has not forgotten them. He is not far off. He is still in the Director’s chair. His next act begins with us. May we take our place on the set.
Let’s take this message to those wrestling with so much pain and confusion.
Bruce Smith
optimuslife.org
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7. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
Rango Your Life
Here lizard lizard.
Have you seen the movie? Rango? Its about a lizard, a thesbian lizard. More than that, this quirky little reptile with a questionable fashion sense and a penchant for drama is trying to find his life passion, his place, his destiny, his story. In that way, aside from the green epidermis, and the long tail, he is much like you and me. And his story, his somewhat wacky and very artistic story, is the kind of thing a life is made of.
Rango (say that with a touch of a mexican accent…its fun) inspires me. He inspires me to make an honest attempt to live fully in the story, my story. His somewhat accidental, always unexpected, and drama filled adventure propels me to find my inner lizard. What is so captivating about this little green character with a broad smile and zest for life, among other things, is his ability to move forward despite his lack of real confidence in himself and his decidedly comical attempt to fool everyone around him. Sound familiar? You see, Rango (that name is just fun to say), is thrown from his humble abode in an aquarium, surrounded by nothing more than a naked and decapitated barbie doll, some sand, a palm tree, and a dead bug, and into the unending and perilous reality of a real sweltering desert surrounded by beguiling and threatening figures at every turn. And what a turn of events it turns out to be!
Through a traffic mishap and the mysterious prodding of a half-dead armadillo, Rango sets out on an adventure in search of water, and finds a life he had never dreamed of despite his clear passion for dreaming and fantasizing about life. He may have dreamed in the past, he may have envisioned what it was to live a different life, to play a different role, but nothing prepared him for the kind of big, wide-open, adventurous, breath-taking, and heroic role that was in store for him.
Rango (still fun to say), had his life turned upside down, splattered all over the road, and exposed to the harshness of life. And it was in that moment that he found his life’s calling. From the somewhat comical, confining, and dead-end existence of an aquarium to the expansive reality of life on a new frontier, Rango was catapulted into a story beyond anything he could have written or directed for himself. From holding the comfortable position of director of dead fantasies, this little guy was sent on to be the leader of a dying town starving for a hero. Peril and threats at every turn, everything from the parched and maddening experience of a waterless desert to the overwhelming threat of a massive, powerful and angry rattle snake, the oppressive and deceptive Mayor of a needy town and a wilting people, and the snubs of an attractive lady in wait… Rango’s new adventure was so much more full of life than any he had dreamed up.
Throughout his journey, questioning his own ability, while living a false persona in front of others, Rango gained experience, confidence, a sense of calling, and found life was worth the living amidst all the real drama. At critical points along the way the lust for hope appeared to be a vain and empty longing for him and for others. It was at this juncture of emptiness and unquenched thirst that life become most unbearable. As Rango recognized, his townsfolk in the desert town of Dirt, and all of us, once hope is extinguished, there is little time left for us. Indeed, it is this tragic loss of hope, far more than tragedy and any sort of misfortune, which accounts for the levels of depression, suicide, divorce, rage, and more, in our culture. When we come to a place in life where no vision remains for a way forward, we are done. As the scriptures say, “Without a vision, the people perish”. The moment of clarity and insight, the life-altering kind, comes when we recognize and embrace the truth that its our mis-guided pursuit of life which leads to this loss of hope. Our lack of true and ultimate direction is what leads us to an early departure from the script emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes physically.
What Rango, and all the townscreatures of Dirt came to see, was that there is yet the possibility remaining that the plot twist is yet to come. We must hold on. We must keep fighting. We must not cave in to the loss of hope. We must live with an awareness, above all, that there is One who ultimately directs the story of our lives. He is the screenwriter, the producer, the studio head, the marketing director, the lead, and the director all in one. Our stories, our real stories, our heroic stories, are never lived until and unless we place ourselves resolutely on His set.
We can search the world over, see all there is out there, experience all the world offers, dream with our tiny minds, … and we will never find anything close to that which He has waiting for us. Try as we might to make our lives bigger, try as we might to convince our selves that we direct our play, try as we might to fool everyone around us, we will never find that which we are thirsting for outside of the story God has for us.
Have you ever wondered why so many, as statistics demonstrate, are miserable in their jobs, even high paying jobs? Ever wondered why those with the most often seem to be the most empty? Ever wonder why those who have been given the world and put on a pedestal fall so hard and so far and so tragically? Ever wonder why rage and greed and lust and murder and addiction and strife and boredom so rule our culture? We have not found His story for us. If God’s call for us is to live His adventure on the mission field rescuing those imprisoned in the horror of human trafficking, we will never escape that call or find peace anywhere else. We will never be able to substitute His plan for a better paying one of our choosing and hope to find soul rest. Fame will not replace what only His famous love can do. Possessions will never hold our soul like only His possessing of us can. Have you considered your life’s plot?
Have you? Have you found His story for you? Is his story in that cubicle you now find yourself in? Is his story in that nightclub? That bar? That party scene? Those chemicals? That younger woman outside your home? In the arms of that “hunk” of a man? That next promotion? That next check? That next relationship? The next land purchase? The next touchdown? The next movie? The next big hit?
Could it be that you are so lonely, so empty, so unfulfilled, because you have not given up your little selfish existence and embraced what He has for you? Are you done trying to manage or fix yourself? Do you really think you can bring healing to yourself? Do you think any experience in life is going to fill the void that remains in your life? The truth for all of us is found in our own Rango experience. Amidst all the questioning and confusion over how our lives have ended up where they are now stands the enlightening plot structure of a Director who knows we have gotten off page. He has scenes for us to be a part of. He has antagonists for us to encounter. He has moments of humor, beauty, accomplishment, drive, desire, longing, and fulfillment for us to embrace if we will but take Him up on this marvelous offer.
If you spend your days wondering and hoping about what could be, consider another script today. If your hope is waning and your desire to continue is faltering, consider looking to Him for a new story. If you have run from the story you know He has for you, come back to the set and engage. Do it before the hanger doors close on you. Like Rango, and all others who have experienced this journey, you will find that His story, your story lived under His directorship, is the very one you’ve been longing for all along. Don’t believe the mirage of false stories. Don’t buy into the shallow scripts of an unthinking and unbelieving world. There is more to be had I assure you. You were created to live an heroic adventure. You are the protagonists the world needs. Your journey will be thrilling as you follow His lead. And in the end, when your last page has turned, your story will be remembered and will continue to impact others for time to come.
Get on with your story,
Bruce Smith
optimuslife.com
blog.optimuschoice.com
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3. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
I want to say, “THANKS” to all of you who regularly read my blogs at blog.optimuschoice.com, and forward them to others … in the last 10 weeks we have had more than 18,000 visits!! Please, spread the word(s) if you find them encouraging and helpful in any way.I write for the reader, hope its real and relevant, and trust and pray God is at work in each offering. Thanks, again, for your time, for using your mind, engaging your heart, and for spreading the work.More to come. Please, pray with me as I move forward on a book series, at the encouragement of many of you, largely based upon the content of the blogs. The idea would be for a devotional set-up that calls people to embrace and run forward in the life God has for them. ”Bite-sized truth for a Super(hero) sized life”!Grace and Peace,Bruce
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1. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
Liberation Square
Liberation Square, otherwise known as Tahrir Square in Cairo Egypt, is ground zero for a now historic revolution of freedom in the Middle East. It was here that a youth movement was set ablaze, peacefully, by those refusing to live a lie any longer. A ruler, of some three decades, a manipulator and debaser of others, was shown the door by those craving freedom and truth and opportunity. This revolution, one which swept a land in staggeringly rapid fashion, now stands as a monument and a metaphor for many on the search for freedom.
Like those in Egypt, we too crave freedom, and in a most fundamental sense. In fact, every human heart longs for the day when the tyranny of bondage is removed and a heart is set free to live in the lavish opportunity of joy. Like those who languished under the tyranny of Egypt’s ruler, we too struggle to thrive under the weight of our own emptiness, shallow experiences, fading pursuits, and soul-diminishing attempts to find life outside of God’s best for us. The problem is, we remain captive. And like those in Egypt and elsewhere, our captivity can continue for decades, lifetimes.
What’s your “Liberation Square”? Where is it in your own heart and life that you need a revolution? Is it the land of relationships? Is it financial? Is it emotional? Mental? Physical? Chemical? Do you long to revolt against the tyrannical oppression that has kept you from true release for years? Has the experience of oppression at the hands of ruthless and loveless people scared you into submission and dysfunction? Does rage, destructive and vengeful, keep you shackled to your past? If so, you must look at your life and situation honestly, realize you are called to more, and you must fight like hell to get out of the prison you are in, spiritually speaking.
The difficulty for many, if not most, is that the prison becomes a place of common experience, and we tend to just muddle through our experiences there. We tell ourselves, “This is just me. This is the way it is. I tried, and this is all I have. Make the best of it. It’s too big a battle to wage…”. Had those in Egypt remained in a similar frame of mind, the Middle East would not now be a hotbed of revolution and change.
Many, sadly, are hindered by a determination to stick with a deceptive way of life. Rather than give in to reality and move on toward a new and captivating truth, they would rather remain captive to an oppressive regime. Demanding their own legitimacy despite the carnage their lifestyle brings upon them, some continue to fight for the right to live a small and stifling existence. Paranoid, fearful, and unsure of what a new world may look like, they would rather die a slow and mind-numbing death, rather than work toward life-giving change. Without energy or hope or drive to wage the battle, long and intense to be sure, they just lie down and give in. They don’t realize the battle, no matter how long it may take, is worth every ounce of blood, sweat and tears.
We see this kind of thing going on in Libya right now as a deceived despot hangs on to power. It is so obvious to most of the world. Yet, Gadhafi, blinded by his own lunacy, remains convinced of a way of life that shudders his soul and that of so many others. He cannot look truth in the face. As is true with us, his pain and soul death, means pain and, death, and oppression for others. No man is an island. It is true. We all must wake up for ourselves and for the good of those around us and for entire societies.
We also see this in our own culture here in American, again and again, most recently, for example, in the headlines regarding the unfolding events in Charlie Sheen’s life. Not to throw stones or to put down another who needs the same grace I need, but to highlight the reality of our openness to deception and rebellion, I make mention of this sad situation. In rehab, fired, and with all the world seeing what only he cannot, he remains convinced, somehow intoxicated, by his state of being, one he refers to as “rock star special”. Despite the personal, professional, and spiritual carnage of his life, he remains steadfast in his refusal to acknowledge his problems. It is every bit as frightening to watch as Gadhafi’s own behavior. Inebriated with his own fame, largely perhaps because we are a culture that believes in fame for fame sake, he is wandering down a road of selfish destruction, and all the while trying to figure out a way to convince others, himself included, that he is enjoying the ride.
If any of us are to make it to a place of freedom and ongoing growth and contentment, we must see the truth for what it is. We must see our own state for what it is. We must see ourselves through the eyes of God. We must own our needs, and find their fulfillment in God alone. Our liberation from our delusions of grandeur, and we all have them, are found in Christ alone. Only He, at once, tells us we have failed, and that we are eternally and perfectly loved, and at the same time He offers us a bigger life.
It is truth that brings growth, and truth which sets a soul, personality, and life free. The Gadhafi “My people love me” approach, one that is clearly out of touch with reality, and the Charlie Sheen “I am special” approach-delusion, will never work for a heart, broken, twisted, deceived, and yearning for more. We must own our reality, accept grace for our brokenness and walk forward in a new way. Our blind spots need the light of God’s truth.
God longs to bring us to our own Liberation Square. He longs to rejoice with us and dance in the streets of Heaven as we turn to Him and find what life is all about. He, the only Ruler who offers all of Himself selflessly, and who knows how to lead His people perfectly, stands waiting for us to say, “Yes!” to the freedom He offers. His reign cannot be thwarted, His land is bursting with opportunity, and His blessings are manifest. There is no other way, place, person, or experience which compares to being in touch with this King of Kings and Lord of Lords. His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
Let’s make our way, today, to Liberation Square.
Bruce Smith
optimuslife.org
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1. March 2011 by BruceSmith.
Liberation Square
Liberation Square, otherwise known as Tahrir Square in Cairo Egypt, is ground zero for a now historic revolution of freedom in the Middle East. It was here that a youth movement was set ablaze, peacefully, by those refusing to live a lie any longer. A ruler, of some three decades, a manipulator and debaser of others, was shown the door by those craving freedom and truth and opportunity. This revolution, one which swept a land in staggeringly rapid fashion, now stands as a monument and a metaphor for many on the search for freedom.
Like those in Egypt, we too crave freedom, and in a most fundamental sense. In fact, every human heart longs for the day when the tyranny of bondage is removed and a heart is set free to live in the lavish opportunity of joy. Like those who languished under the tyranny of Egypt’s ruler, we too struggle to thrive under the weight of our own emptiness, shallow experiences, fading pursuits, and soul-diminishing attempts to find life outside of God’s best for us. The problem is, we remain captive. And like those in Egypt and elsewhere, our captivity can continue for decades, lifetimes.
What’s your “Liberation Square”? Where is it in your own heart and life that you need a revolution? Is it the land of relationships? Is it financial? Is it emotional? Mental? Physical? Chemical? Do you long to revolt against the tyrannical oppression that has kept you from true release for years? Has the experience of oppression at the hands of ruthless and loveless people scared you into submission and dysfunction? Does rage, destructive and vengeful, keep you shackled to your past? If so, you must look at your life and situation honestly, realize you are called to more, and you must fight like hell to get out of the prison you are in, spiritually speaking.
The difficulty for many, if not most, is that the prison becomes a place of common experience, and we tend to just muddle through our experiences there. We tell ourselves, “This is just me. This is the way it is. I tried, and this is all I have. Make the best of it. It’s too big a battle to wage…”. Had those in Egypt remained in a similar frame of mind, the Middle East would not now be a hotbed of revolution and change.
Many, sadly, are hindered by a determination to stick with a deceptive way of life. Rather than give in to reality and move on toward a new and captivating truth, they would rather remain captive to an oppressive regime. Demanding their own legitimacy despite the carnage their lifestyle brings upon them, some continue to fight for the right to live a small and stifling existence. Paranoid, fearful, and unsure of what a new world may look like, they would rather die a slow and mind-numbing death, rather than work toward life-giving change. Without energy or hope or drive to wage the battle, long and intense to be sure, they just lie down and give in. They don’t realize the battle, no matter how long it may take, is worth every ounce of blood, sweat and tears.
We see this kind of thing going on in Libya right now as a deceived despot hangs on to power. It is so obvious to most of the world. Yet, Gadhafi, blinded by his own lunacy, remains convinced of a way of life that shudders his soul and that of so many others. He cannot look truth in the face. As is true with us, his pain and soul death, means pain and, death, and oppression for others. No man is an island. It is true. We all must wake up for ourselves and for the good of those around us and for entire societies.
We also see this in our own culture here in American, again and again, most recently, for example, in the headlines regarding the unfolding events in Charlie Sheen’s life. Not to throw stones or to put down another who needs the same grace I need, but to highlight the reality of our openness to deception and rebellion, I make mention of this sad situation. In rehab, fired, and with all the world seeing what only he cannot, he remains convinced, somehow intoxicated, by his state of being, one he refers to as “rock star special”. Despite the personal, professional, and spiritual carnage of his life, he remains steadfast in his refusal to acknowledge his problems. It is every bit as frightening to watch as Gadhafi’s own behavior. Inebriated with his own fame, largely perhaps because we are a culture that believes in fame for fame sake, he is wandering down a road of selfish destruction, and all the while trying to figure out a way to convince others, himself included, that he is enjoying the ride.
If any of us are to make it to a place of freedom and ongoing growth and contentment, we must see the truth for what it is. We must see our own state for what it is. We must see ourselves through the eyes of God. We must own our needs, and find their fulfillment in God alone. Our liberation from our delusions of grandeur, and we all have them, are found in Christ alone. Only He, at once, tells us we have failed, and that we are eternally and perfectly loved, and at the same time He offers us a bigger life.
It is truth that brings growth, and truth which sets a soul, personality, and life free. The Gadhafi “My people love me” approach, one that is clearly out of touch with reality, and the Charlie Sheen “I am special” approach-delusion, will never work for a heart, broken, twisted, deceived, and yearning for more. We must own our reality, accept grace for our brokenness and walk forward in a new way. Our blind spots need the light of God’s truth.
God longs to bring us to our own Liberation Square. He longs to rejoice with us and dance in the streets of Heaven as we turn to Him and find what life is all about. He, the only Ruler who offers all of Himself selflessly, and who knows how to lead His people perfectly, stands waiting for us to say, “Yes!” to the freedom He offers. His reign cannot be thwarted, His land is bursting with opportunity, and His blessings are manifest. There is no other way, place, person, or experience which compares to being in touch with this King of Kings and Lord of Lords. His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
Let’s make our way, today, to Liberation Square.
Bruce Smith
optimuslife.org
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