I just read an article in the Wall Street Journal about depressed leaders "Depression in Command," July 30-31, 2011. Some recent research has suggested that leaders who struggle with depression may actually be better equipped to lead in times of crisis--because they already expect life to be hard, and they emphathize with others.
Normal sane people, says the article, are slightly over-optimistic about life, and feel they have more control than they actually do. A person who struggles with depression is under no such illusions--they're already adjusted to the low-pressure atmosphere of realism and hard times. Some melancholy folks may be better equipped to lead when the lights go out.
Additionally, people who have suffered with depression have been shown to have much higher levels of empathy than normal, sane folk. I've experienced that. When all is right with the world, I don't want to cloud my mind with the troubles of others. But in times of suffering or low spirits, I empathize with those in trouble on a deep level. The article pointed to Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, Ghandi and Martin Luther King, Jr. as examples of people who had repeatedly struggled with depression, and who were therefore equipped to look hard times straight in the eye and spit back.
In me, these turned up some deep thoughts. Maybe, those of us who struggle with melancholy are not simply losers, broken, inferior. Maybe God is able to take our suffering and turn it to blessing, as he loves to do. Maybe in fact, if we bring it to him in trust, he has a purpose for it all.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Gray Day Reflections
Sometimes, secretly, I think I might be a tree.
I look like a person, I know. It's just a suspicion I have. One of the main reasons I think I might be part tree is because when I don't get much sunlight, I begin to wilt. I don't think that's supposed to happen to people. There I am, sitting on a sofa, wilting. Then, you wheel me outside into some warm afternoon sun, and my back begins to straighten. My eyes brighten and my soul relaxes like some crying baby nodding off to sleep, sucking his thumb.
But sometimes, the sun isn't there. Sometimes I go outside, trying to aim my solar panels at the light, but all I get is gray skies and concrete buildings.
You can't make the sun come out. At least, I've never had much luck. I just have to wait until it chooses to show its face, whether it be five minutes or five days.
Sometimes I feel God is like the sun. I'm all wilted inside, not much more than a zombie, and suddenly there's a refreshing sermon or song, or person. Or I open the Bible and every word is just radiating out and I start to soak in His light. My back begins to straighten. My eyes brighten and my soul relaxes like some fussy baby falling asleep while his father burps him.
But sometimes I go into the Word of God, and it feels all gray. The words stick to the page like chewing gum to your shoe. I turn on a sermon and it seems cliche--I try listening to music but it seems too chipper. Even when a friend stops by to try to encourage me it's just mildly helpful, like a labrador retriever who only brings you one of your slippers.
Honestly, I haven't found a way to make the Sun come out when I want it to. So I appreciate the psalms where David complains about it: "How long will you hide your face from me?...Give light to my eyes or I will sleep in death." (Psalm 13)
I mean, it's nice to remember that the sun is still there, above the smog and rainclouds. If you could get in a jetplane or ride on the wings of an angel, you could go up to see how bright it still is up there far above our petty problems. But that and a dollar will get you a pack of gum, right?
Still, I want to be like David who finished his gray-day psalm with some firm faith. "But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD for he has been good to me." He has been good to me. Lord, turn the sunshine of your face on us again and brighten our eyes. Until then we will trust in your unfailing love.
I look like a person, I know. It's just a suspicion I have. One of the main reasons I think I might be part tree is because when I don't get much sunlight, I begin to wilt. I don't think that's supposed to happen to people. There I am, sitting on a sofa, wilting. Then, you wheel me outside into some warm afternoon sun, and my back begins to straighten. My eyes brighten and my soul relaxes like some crying baby nodding off to sleep, sucking his thumb.
But sometimes, the sun isn't there. Sometimes I go outside, trying to aim my solar panels at the light, but all I get is gray skies and concrete buildings.
You can't make the sun come out. At least, I've never had much luck. I just have to wait until it chooses to show its face, whether it be five minutes or five days.
Sometimes I feel God is like the sun. I'm all wilted inside, not much more than a zombie, and suddenly there's a refreshing sermon or song, or person. Or I open the Bible and every word is just radiating out and I start to soak in His light. My back begins to straighten. My eyes brighten and my soul relaxes like some fussy baby falling asleep while his father burps him.
But sometimes I go into the Word of God, and it feels all gray. The words stick to the page like chewing gum to your shoe. I turn on a sermon and it seems cliche--I try listening to music but it seems too chipper. Even when a friend stops by to try to encourage me it's just mildly helpful, like a labrador retriever who only brings you one of your slippers.
Honestly, I haven't found a way to make the Sun come out when I want it to. So I appreciate the psalms where David complains about it: "How long will you hide your face from me?...Give light to my eyes or I will sleep in death." (Psalm 13)
I mean, it's nice to remember that the sun is still there, above the smog and rainclouds. If you could get in a jetplane or ride on the wings of an angel, you could go up to see how bright it still is up there far above our petty problems. But that and a dollar will get you a pack of gum, right?
Still, I want to be like David who finished his gray-day psalm with some firm faith. "But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD for he has been good to me." He has been good to me. Lord, turn the sunshine of your face on us again and brighten our eyes. Until then we will trust in your unfailing love.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
POEM: More Than Twelve Legions
Trained for two thousand years, we stood
Sweat dripping from our arms, our fingers
Clenched whitely on our sword pommels
Eyes starting from our heads, legs tight.
More than sixty thousand of us waited in formation
Bodies burning white like lightning in the sun
Longing for the instant command to jump
To flash into battle in that distant dusty land
Where our best captain stood all alone
Surrounded by idiots, who spit and slapped at him
Who whipped and cursed him like dogs,
Who teased him with unspeakable tortures.
He had the walkie-talkie, planted invisibly
In his ear. He had not lost his voice.
Then why his silence? All we could hear
Was laughter and shouting, and women's sobs
And suddenly our captain screamed.
We tensed, swords half drawn, eyes on fire
But we only heard the chink of hammer on iron spike
And then the words: "Father, forgive them."
I will never forget that longest day
And the faces of my fellow soldiers in those hours
Anger and agony and confusion in the ranks
We would destroy the world but he would save it.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Joshua 7: Achan
I'm reading Joshua 7 today. Here's how The Message translation opens:
"Then the People of Israel violated the holy curse. Achan son of Carmi...took some of the cursed things. GOD became angry with the People of Israel."
When the Jews stormed over the fallen walls of Jericho, God had told them everything in Jericho was set aside for destruction. All people, animals, and property were to be destroyed. Undestroyable items like gold and silver were to be given to God. It seems inevitable to us that one of the 40,000 soldiers wouldn't be able to resist. And so it happened that Achan took a beautiful robe, and some silver and gold and hid them under his tent.
As a result, God was angry with all of Israel, and He allowed their enemies to defeat them and kill 36 Jewish soldiers. Whoa there! Why was God angry at all of Israel? Today in North America, being the most highly individualized culture in the history of the world, it's really tough for us to see how that's fair. Achan should be punished for his own sins! And I think God agrees with that principle (that's what Ezekiel 18 is all about).
But living in China, which is a fairly collectivist culture (seeing things in terms of the group you belong to instead of the individual you are), I can begin to understand why it may have been necessary to deal with early Israel in this way. "A little yeast leavens the whole lump of dough," as Jesus said. A collective group feels much more like a body than a collection of individuals. They have "groupthink" in which everyone generally comes to the same opinion. They have almost a mob mentality, in which it is really hard to resist doing what everyone else is doing.
In China, where one person in a milk company substitutes cheap chemical additives for the actual cream in the milk, the whole company lost face when it came to light, even more so than it would have in America. People all over China stopped drinking milk entirely for a year after it was revealed. How unfair! How can we punish the entire diary and milk industry for one person's mistake? First, in a collectivist society, one person doesn't do that unless there's a widespread corruption making it possible to go against the group. Second, it's the way of nature to some extent. If your knee gives out, your whole body ain't going to win the race.
It may be nearly incomprehensible to us today to understand why the whole Jewish nation should suffer for one person's mistake, and why that one person along with all his family and possessions should be stoned and burned. But after living in a collectivist culture a while--it's starting to make sense. But let's take it a little more personally before we leave it.
Are there any areas in your life you are secretly compromising in? What secret sins do you indulge in but try to separate from the rest of your life? You know it's going to influence the rest of your life as well. Find those points of compromise and stone and burn them out. As long as you harbor these compromises willfully, can you expect to be whole and healthy?
"Then the People of Israel violated the holy curse. Achan son of Carmi...took some of the cursed things. GOD became angry with the People of Israel."
When the Jews stormed over the fallen walls of Jericho, God had told them everything in Jericho was set aside for destruction. All people, animals, and property were to be destroyed. Undestroyable items like gold and silver were to be given to God. It seems inevitable to us that one of the 40,000 soldiers wouldn't be able to resist. And so it happened that Achan took a beautiful robe, and some silver and gold and hid them under his tent.
As a result, God was angry with all of Israel, and He allowed their enemies to defeat them and kill 36 Jewish soldiers. Whoa there! Why was God angry at all of Israel? Today in North America, being the most highly individualized culture in the history of the world, it's really tough for us to see how that's fair. Achan should be punished for his own sins! And I think God agrees with that principle (that's what Ezekiel 18 is all about).
But living in China, which is a fairly collectivist culture (seeing things in terms of the group you belong to instead of the individual you are), I can begin to understand why it may have been necessary to deal with early Israel in this way. "A little yeast leavens the whole lump of dough," as Jesus said. A collective group feels much more like a body than a collection of individuals. They have "groupthink" in which everyone generally comes to the same opinion. They have almost a mob mentality, in which it is really hard to resist doing what everyone else is doing.
In China, where one person in a milk company substitutes cheap chemical additives for the actual cream in the milk, the whole company lost face when it came to light, even more so than it would have in America. People all over China stopped drinking milk entirely for a year after it was revealed. How unfair! How can we punish the entire diary and milk industry for one person's mistake? First, in a collectivist society, one person doesn't do that unless there's a widespread corruption making it possible to go against the group. Second, it's the way of nature to some extent. If your knee gives out, your whole body ain't going to win the race.
It may be nearly incomprehensible to us today to understand why the whole Jewish nation should suffer for one person's mistake, and why that one person along with all his family and possessions should be stoned and burned. But after living in a collectivist culture a while--it's starting to make sense. But let's take it a little more personally before we leave it.
Are there any areas in your life you are secretly compromising in? What secret sins do you indulge in but try to separate from the rest of your life? You know it's going to influence the rest of your life as well. Find those points of compromise and stone and burn them out. As long as you harbor these compromises willfully, can you expect to be whole and healthy?
Monday, May 9, 2011
Does God suffer more than us?
Does God suffer more than us? I think it's an interesting and meaningful question. What do you think? I hope you'll send me an email or write a comment if you have some thoughts. These are my thoughts:
I know that some people picture God as an old grandfather, half deaf and half dead. Others picture him as some cosmic Buddha, with a placid smile always pasted on his face. But to both of these the Bible says boldly, "Ha ha!" Even early on in the Bible, when God seems more transcendent, we see him personally interacting with people: walking with Adam and Eve on late afternoons chatting, warning Cain he's heading the wrong way, having mercy on Cain, and finally feeling heartbroken and regretful about making people in the first place and wiping their disease off the face of the earth with a massive flood.
Then there are the prophets, speaking God's voice, which wails brokenly at times, and shouts furiously at others. He tells Hosea to marry a prostitute, so the people can understand the jealous anger and heartbreak that God is feeling at their faithlessness. He sighs with frustration, just like Jesus did before healing a blind and deaf man. Yeah. In case you missed it, Jesus is the clue that God cares very, very deeply. He wept over Jerusalem, he shouted and whipped hawkers out of the temple,He told jokes and held children on his lap. DO WE THINK WE FEEL MORE DEEPLY THAN THE GOD WHO MADE US?
Once, when God drew near to me, I was flattened by his passion. His hatred for my sin and his love for me were like a massive sun, and my emotions were little candle flames in its daylight.
And who, do you suppose cares more about the brokenness of the world we live in? God right now is present at every rape, at every husband and wife's shouting match, at the scene of children being molested and young men being tortured by others. He's forced day after day to live with our nearly complete self-absorbtion, all the secret thoughts we have and the smiling masks we paint over them, with our depressions, our hates, our despairs, and our chasing after the passing shadows of this world instead of listening constantly to Him. We don't even know the depth of our own brokenness, and He knows the whole world's.
And if you think He doesn't care about it with every fibre of his Fatherly being, you don't yet know him very well. DO WE THINK WE CARE MORE DEEPLY THAN THE GOD WHO MADE US?
So, God waits. He waits to set all things right at last, to heave a huge shuddering sigh of relief and sob in His soul with joy that at last all evil is extinguished and all good comforted and praised. His love compels Him to wait: to wait until more of His children have turned from the evil that would sweep them away also in the destruction and run into the safety of His light.
So be aware of what God is feeling today: He knows every single broken thing happening, he cares about them more strongly than we do, and he is eager to fix it, pinned back only by his loving patience, "not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to eternal life." And meanwhile we His dearly loved children question and doubt him. Does God suffer more than us?
I know that some people picture God as an old grandfather, half deaf and half dead. Others picture him as some cosmic Buddha, with a placid smile always pasted on his face. But to both of these the Bible says boldly, "Ha ha!" Even early on in the Bible, when God seems more transcendent, we see him personally interacting with people: walking with Adam and Eve on late afternoons chatting, warning Cain he's heading the wrong way, having mercy on Cain, and finally feeling heartbroken and regretful about making people in the first place and wiping their disease off the face of the earth with a massive flood.
Then there are the prophets, speaking God's voice, which wails brokenly at times, and shouts furiously at others. He tells Hosea to marry a prostitute, so the people can understand the jealous anger and heartbreak that God is feeling at their faithlessness. He sighs with frustration, just like Jesus did before healing a blind and deaf man. Yeah. In case you missed it, Jesus is the clue that God cares very, very deeply. He wept over Jerusalem, he shouted and whipped hawkers out of the temple,He told jokes and held children on his lap. DO WE THINK WE FEEL MORE DEEPLY THAN THE GOD WHO MADE US?
Once, when God drew near to me, I was flattened by his passion. His hatred for my sin and his love for me were like a massive sun, and my emotions were little candle flames in its daylight.
And who, do you suppose cares more about the brokenness of the world we live in? God right now is present at every rape, at every husband and wife's shouting match, at the scene of children being molested and young men being tortured by others. He's forced day after day to live with our nearly complete self-absorbtion, all the secret thoughts we have and the smiling masks we paint over them, with our depressions, our hates, our despairs, and our chasing after the passing shadows of this world instead of listening constantly to Him. We don't even know the depth of our own brokenness, and He knows the whole world's.
And if you think He doesn't care about it with every fibre of his Fatherly being, you don't yet know him very well. DO WE THINK WE CARE MORE DEEPLY THAN THE GOD WHO MADE US?
So, God waits. He waits to set all things right at last, to heave a huge shuddering sigh of relief and sob in His soul with joy that at last all evil is extinguished and all good comforted and praised. His love compels Him to wait: to wait until more of His children have turned from the evil that would sweep them away also in the destruction and run into the safety of His light.
So be aware of what God is feeling today: He knows every single broken thing happening, he cares about them more strongly than we do, and he is eager to fix it, pinned back only by his loving patience, "not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to eternal life." And meanwhile we His dearly loved children question and doubt him. Does God suffer more than us?
Monday, February 21, 2011
POEM: A Train in the Tunnel
The smell of paint and oil rises in my nose
As the train rocks and flies past green flashes in the sunlight
And then suddenly like a blow
A shadow and darkness of a tunnel's night
Rushes roaring in my ears.
Cold wind blows through the car
The loud darkness seems never ending.
But then I hear a voice in my ear:
"No matter how long or dark the tunnel
In Christ there will always be an exit into light."
Hope rises in my heart
But as the minutes rattle past
My feeble mind nearly forgets the dream of a bright world outside.
--There is a brightening--
And we fly into warm sun
Rush past rolling hills all green with life
My heart warming and rising like a kite.
How many more tunnels will I go through
Until I reach the brightness of You?
How many? It doesn't matter.
As the train rocks and flies past green flashes in the sunlight
And then suddenly like a blow
A shadow and darkness of a tunnel's night
Rushes roaring in my ears.
Cold wind blows through the car
The loud darkness seems never ending.
But then I hear a voice in my ear:
"No matter how long or dark the tunnel
In Christ there will always be an exit into light."
Hope rises in my heart
But as the minutes rattle past
My feeble mind nearly forgets the dream of a bright world outside.
--There is a brightening--
And we fly into warm sun
Rush past rolling hills all green with life
My heart warming and rising like a kite.
How many more tunnels will I go through
Until I reach the brightness of You?
How many? It doesn't matter.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Travels to Yunnan
Where's Yunnan? It's a province in south-western China, just above Thailand and Myanmar. Yunnan means "Cloud South" and it's a beautiful part of China. The part I usually live in is greasy with smog and filled with square concrete buildings with all the charm of cinder blocks, so it was nice to see a lovely side of this place I live.
First we went to a city called Li-jiang, part of which is old and historical. (See picture above.) It's full of winding cobblestone pathways that were made four to six hundred years ago.
After a few days we traveled a few hours to some mountains nearby, to a place called "Tiger Leaping Gorge." So called because there were some rocks on the river over which tigers used to jump to get from one side to the other with small lambs in their mouths. But no tigers live there nowadays.
First we went to a city called Li-jiang, part of which is old and historical. (See picture above.) It's full of winding cobblestone pathways that were made four to six hundred years ago.
After a few days we traveled a few hours to some mountains nearby, to a place called "Tiger Leaping Gorge." So called because there were some rocks on the river over which tigers used to jump to get from one side to the other with small lambs in their mouths. But no tigers live there nowadays.
We hiked for two and a half days down this ridge of ancient mountains facing another ridge across the river below. Pretty spectacular. Reminded us that God still has the gold star for impressive architecture. Just being there was refreshing to the soul in a way even the lovely old town of Lijiang could not be.
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