I had the strangest dreams last night. Or at least I was hoping they were only dreams-- they intertwined with reality to an alarming extent. It started with a dream about a large two story house where I was living with some large, loud extended family that wasn't my own. In the dream we were scared of an intruder breaking into the house, and at the same time I was drifting into and out of the sleep state in real life. And I remember feeeling actually afraid that an intruder was in my room at my apartment. I thought that if I woke up fully and looked around, someone would be standing there, watching.
But I never did, so who knows. It's been so long since I've been afraid of an intruder... strange.
Last week I made it back from Monterey, slowly making my way to everyone's favorite constellation of plastic (L.A.) on Pacific Coast Highway. Along the path, I stopped in San Luis Obispo and Pismo Beach. Rumor has it I unwittingly risked having an ecnounter with Other Shane, at which time the universe would have ceased to exist, as judgement was meted out and all the elemental powers of the universe burned up in a final fit of divine rage. But this, as it appears, has not happened.
On Saturday morning, I walked into my living room only to find my friend Kurt sleeping there on the couch. He suggested we go hiking for several miles in some wilderness nearby where the mountains are so rugged that few dare attempt them. Instead, we wimped out and ate some breakfast and finally went to some much less fearsome terrain, a mountain known as Strawberry Peak where the local villagers wear pink and live in huts and skip to work. Well, not really-- I'm not sure if they actually wear pink. Anyway, we started up this mountain and I noticed the sun was very hot and I had to drink a lot of water. After just a few mintues without water, my mouth would feel dry, my arms would get goosebumps, and things would feel "funny." Kurt experienced the same.
As we neared the top, we forgot where the mountain was and so turned back. As we reached a shady resting spot, we passed a shady guy, and then a normal guy. The normal guy ran up to us and said, "Oh my gosh, I'm glad I found you guys. There's this shady guy following me and I think he may be dangerous." I recalled that the shady guy hadn't said hello or anything as Kurt and I had passed him. He was wearing thick, long-sleeve denim (!), some aviator sunglasses, and a thick pair of leather gloves. So he either intended to pull weeds or kill someone. So the scared, normal guy-- I think his name was John-- joined us as we headed back to the foot of the trail. He didn't want to be alone. He kept saying, "I've learned my lesson-- I'm never hiking alone again!" I told him I had hiked for forty days and forty nights alone in the Cascades, without incident with man or beast. But I also had a mighty ice axe and I knew how to wield it. In fact, I may have worn denim and gloves, mumbling under my breath, as I usually did, something about my atavistic fondness for hunting unsuspecting prey. Hmm... I hope I didn't scare anyone back then.
Which reminds me of something insightful which Matt said last night at our weekly meeting. He said that God is not primarily concerned with our temporal comfort. And I mused that we many times are primarily concerned our temporal comfort and even project this on to God in our prayers, as if that's what he really wants for us. As Matt said, and I think most ministers of the faith would concede, God is concerned with our becoming more Christ-like.
Many times this requires suffering. It's just a fact of human nature that when comforts are satisfied, we can become highly complacent. In such a state, we are not likely to grow. But when crisis comes, then we turn to God and that's when he can form us into the character of his Son. So pray not for comfort. Pray for Christ-likeness, pray for opportunities to love and sacrifice for others, considering others before yourself, and considering the Kingdom of God and His approval, before your own comfort and man's approval.
Amen? Yes, amen.
But I never did, so who knows. It's been so long since I've been afraid of an intruder... strange.
Last week I made it back from Monterey, slowly making my way to everyone's favorite constellation of plastic (L.A.) on Pacific Coast Highway. Along the path, I stopped in San Luis Obispo and Pismo Beach. Rumor has it I unwittingly risked having an ecnounter with Other Shane, at which time the universe would have ceased to exist, as judgement was meted out and all the elemental powers of the universe burned up in a final fit of divine rage. But this, as it appears, has not happened.
On Saturday morning, I walked into my living room only to find my friend Kurt sleeping there on the couch. He suggested we go hiking for several miles in some wilderness nearby where the mountains are so rugged that few dare attempt them. Instead, we wimped out and ate some breakfast and finally went to some much less fearsome terrain, a mountain known as Strawberry Peak where the local villagers wear pink and live in huts and skip to work. Well, not really-- I'm not sure if they actually wear pink. Anyway, we started up this mountain and I noticed the sun was very hot and I had to drink a lot of water. After just a few mintues without water, my mouth would feel dry, my arms would get goosebumps, and things would feel "funny." Kurt experienced the same.
As we neared the top, we forgot where the mountain was and so turned back. As we reached a shady resting spot, we passed a shady guy, and then a normal guy. The normal guy ran up to us and said, "Oh my gosh, I'm glad I found you guys. There's this shady guy following me and I think he may be dangerous." I recalled that the shady guy hadn't said hello or anything as Kurt and I had passed him. He was wearing thick, long-sleeve denim (!), some aviator sunglasses, and a thick pair of leather gloves. So he either intended to pull weeds or kill someone. So the scared, normal guy-- I think his name was John-- joined us as we headed back to the foot of the trail. He didn't want to be alone. He kept saying, "I've learned my lesson-- I'm never hiking alone again!" I told him I had hiked for forty days and forty nights alone in the Cascades, without incident with man or beast. But I also had a mighty ice axe and I knew how to wield it. In fact, I may have worn denim and gloves, mumbling under my breath, as I usually did, something about my atavistic fondness for hunting unsuspecting prey. Hmm... I hope I didn't scare anyone back then.
Which reminds me of something insightful which Matt said last night at our weekly meeting. He said that God is not primarily concerned with our temporal comfort. And I mused that we many times are primarily concerned our temporal comfort and even project this on to God in our prayers, as if that's what he really wants for us. As Matt said, and I think most ministers of the faith would concede, God is concerned with our becoming more Christ-like.
Many times this requires suffering. It's just a fact of human nature that when comforts are satisfied, we can become highly complacent. In such a state, we are not likely to grow. But when crisis comes, then we turn to God and that's when he can form us into the character of his Son. So pray not for comfort. Pray for Christ-likeness, pray for opportunities to love and sacrifice for others, considering others before yourself, and considering the Kingdom of God and His approval, before your own comfort and man's approval.
Amen? Yes, amen.
posted by shane at 2:49 PM
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