I recently read through Gary Thomas' Sacred Pathways and discovered that I experience God in ways I wouldn't have imagined. None of them fit me perfectly, but from what I can tell, I experience God as a sensate primarily. But I also approach him as an activist, and surprisingly, a traditionalist.
That last one is a shocker because I have always been distrustful of the "High Church" and all their rote mumbo jumbo. I am a low church guy with roots in the house church and Plymouth Brethren movements. Neither of these movements put much credence into tradition (well, at least tradition outside of their own cultural patterns). In fact, it was normal for us to completely ignore the Christian calendar - even preaching on 1 Corinthians 5 on Christmas because, well, that is where we were in the text.
So, this year, really for the first time, I have tried to attune myself to the traditional Christian seasons. I know this is on the far margin of what it means to be a traditionalist, but it is a good place to start exploring how to worship God in the way he has wired me.
I marked Ash Wednesday, though I did not attend a service. I participated in Lent (or should I say, am participating). I geared my reading and meditations to those portions of the gospels that would help me focus on Jesus' passion and the events surrounding it.
Not surprisingly, I have been tremendously challenged and refreshed.
So today - Good Friday - I am thinking about how sinfully broken I am. As we have come to say around the Journey - how jacked up I am. I am also thinking about how much pain and suffering that brought to my savior, Jesus. After a long night of painful anticipation, beatings, humiliation, betrayal, and physical pain beyond my understanding - Jesus died for me.
I am so broken - so sinful - Jesus had to die. There was no other solution because my problem was so big it required God himself to come down, take human form, and die in my place. I am Peter. I am Edmond and Eustace. I am Kafka's cockroach. And he died - had to and willingly chose to - in order to pardon me.
That last one is a shocker because I have always been distrustful of the "High Church" and all their rote mumbo jumbo. I am a low church guy with roots in the house church and Plymouth Brethren movements. Neither of these movements put much credence into tradition (well, at least tradition outside of their own cultural patterns). In fact, it was normal for us to completely ignore the Christian calendar - even preaching on 1 Corinthians 5 on Christmas because, well, that is where we were in the text.
So, this year, really for the first time, I have tried to attune myself to the traditional Christian seasons. I know this is on the far margin of what it means to be a traditionalist, but it is a good place to start exploring how to worship God in the way he has wired me.
I marked Ash Wednesday, though I did not attend a service. I participated in Lent (or should I say, am participating). I geared my reading and meditations to those portions of the gospels that would help me focus on Jesus' passion and the events surrounding it.
Not surprisingly, I have been tremendously challenged and refreshed.
So today - Good Friday - I am thinking about how sinfully broken I am. As we have come to say around the Journey - how jacked up I am. I am also thinking about how much pain and suffering that brought to my savior, Jesus. After a long night of painful anticipation, beatings, humiliation, betrayal, and physical pain beyond my understanding - Jesus died for me.
I am so broken - so sinful - Jesus had to die. There was no other solution because my problem was so big it required God himself to come down, take human form, and die in my place. I am Peter. I am Edmond and Eustace. I am Kafka's cockroach. And he died - had to and willingly chose to - in order to pardon me.
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