Measuring your Mountains

Pickens county is part of a region most call the Upstate of South Carolina. It's not only up on a map half the county is up in elevation painting a picturesque horizon of faded blue mountains. The scene is tranquil and leaves you in a sense of awe. But only when you travel closer can you comprehend the innormase, massive, and awe inspiring glory of the SC mountains. The roads twist and wind like a pretzel; up and up you go. Several stops such as Cesears Head State Park, Bald Rock, and Table Rock  make you feel like your on top of the world. The earth feels larger when your home town is the size of a quarter; suddenly our problems look like ants or specks of dirt.

We often do the same thing with our relationship with God. When we keep Jesus at a distance he looks like a piece of scenery; adding value but only a background.  Letting him in takes a lot of discipline winding upward putting one foot in front of the other but the end result puts a mountain where it should be;  stronger, higher, and more awesome than anything on ground level.

ME or WE?

"Its all about me" this cognition is the subconscious voice of the western mind. This ideal powers our ambitions, goals, and dreams. The underlining thought of any child's first fight often stem from one of two places; mine! Or NO! Both serve the purpose of feeding the subconscious human Freud names the Id. As we develop our sense of self and cultural identity, the culture we live in target's and re-enforces individualism. Though we as people all desire to be unique, special, one-of-a-kind, the deepest part of us knows though we experience the world as an individual we also long to experience life as a collective people.

Since the beginning God designed people to be social. We throw party's when someone's born into the group, neighbors participate in community events, churches gather to worship,  and children assemble for their education. A step closer examines family units, gatherings,  deep friendships, and parenting. Our DNA thirsts for CNA (community nurturing and appriciation).

During a recent coffee excursion with my dad, I was reminded of two separate views of community involvement; "the one serving many vs. The many serving one." This traditional Ojibwe philosophy suggests as a people we must help and serve the members collectively; our duty is to function as one contributing member of the Ojibwe tribe. This philosophy looks very similar to Pauls take on the church as he puts it, "the hand cannot say to the foot I don't need you".

Community is not about losing a sense of self it's the fulfillment of our sense of self, identity,  belonging. I think people often are afraid of surrendering individualism believing they will lose their sense of meaning and purpose; in reality embracing our place in God's grand story actually increases our value as people. Jesus does love me in a very deep, personal, and real way, but im kidding myself if I start thinking God cannot move without Wes Wilson's approval. Buying into the American dream of self servitude basically promotes ourselves to God hood and demotes Jesus to a sweaty underprepared college intern to the real guy in charge; me. As my dad once taught my brotherand I in homeschool history class, "the reasom for history is to demonstrate his-story"

So how do you embrace our community and collective identity?  How do we embrace serving our God as a people? How do we live into something much bigger than ourselves?

It begins by replacing one belief with another. We need to start believing two things "it's not about me" and "i am part of something much bigger than myself".

The Meaning of Life; exstientialism and the truth

After many decades of a frustrating search for philosophical answers, Douglas Adams renowned physicist concluded the meaning of life is as follows; 42 will do.

The statement is meant to be read with both nihilism and existentialism. When boiled down to it's core, the argument suggest life's meaning is dependent on individual experience; more relative explanations replace "the truth" with "your truth" suggesting "all truth is relative." Douglas suggests a world devoid of meaning, that life can be as grandiose as the universe or as simple as 42 but we're all matter, chomsmic particles, dust. In his worldview everything is in chaos and disorder; meaningless.

These conversations are full of existential bullets most Christ followers like to dodge Matrix style,  but though his saying may be initially read in direct conflict with scripture does it convay any truth of God's kingdom?

In 2013, i had the eye opening experience of being completely immersed in a severely legalistic Bible institution.  Though they professed to be progressive Christian thinkers, the progress must have been loading at a pace similar to a '98 windows desktop or the roundest dog in the kennel. Their apparent leap of embracing post modernism looked like someone who wore the 2001 championship t-shirt to the 2011 games; a decade to slow. Their unwillingness to adapt me got and my favorite prof in hot water. Many privileged church kids argued, "our teacher is too secular" or "post modernism is NOT good for for the church!"

Is this what Jesus wants for christians?  To avoid the deepening questions of life, living like ostrages?

What if the reason 42 will do isnt because we draw meaning from something meaningless, but rather draw the value over an entire world and culture of meaning? What if our purpose in life isnt linear or single dimensional but rather a complex like the roots of a tree. Any direction the root grows will give the tree life, the root isnt limited to one track or direction, so why do we limit truth to something either completely rigid or completely without structure or meaning? 

42 wil do because it is a root to the grand tree; because either nothing in life has truth and we are meant to forge our own,  or everything in life has truth and God's equipped us with a pickaxe to dig out the secret treasures.

Sympathy and Empathy; Guiding Christian Helpfulness

Verses such as "Do onto others as you would have them do onto you" -Mathew 7:12 and "Love your neighbor as yourself" Mark 12:30 clear demonstrate a christians call to love and serve the world around them. Our call as Christians reflects the traditional Ojibwe practice of Bizimdam"to listen." Unlike the western understanding of this word, Bizimdam starts deeply inward and from there extends to the rest of the world. The principle here is rather obvious however many people zoom by this simple truth like freeways cut through the mystic glory of the smokey mountains; you cannot listen to others if you do not listen to yourself.

Empathy is a hot topic in the field of counseling, social services, and psychology. The premise is basically the ability to feel what others are feeling in a given situation. At weddings we may feel an awkward blend of stress and bliss, a sad movie ending envokes many tears, and hearing a passionate speaker exclaim his destain for injustice may move us to feel the same righteuous indignaton he's furious with. Our lease to others emotions have now become a rent-to-own.

Symphony on the other hand recognizes the feelings of others without aquiring ownership. During an afternoon bus route a very enthusiastic kindergartener sat on the very edge of his seat.  Sitting still was a task he had to aquire; his curiosity compelled him to hop between the aisle and window. Going over a bump, the catapulted from his throne and with a scratch and thud his knee hit the floor. The panic overtook his 5 year old mind, instantly the fright of his experience brought him to tears. Having observed the situation I quickly assessed the injury was only 5% pain and 95% panic. Though I was warm and could sympathize his pain and worry I remained calm and used a soothing voice and comforting words to assure him his injury was not fatal.

To often Christians feel the pressure to own everyone else's baggage. Don't get me wrong we do need empathy but it's important to know how to balance both empathy and sympathy. The challenge is discovering how to rent, not own, others emotions and experiences but still remain faithful, responsible, and caring tenants.

Jesus wants us to practice Bizimdam

.  In both verses prior we should love others as we love ourselves. The falecy many Christians buy into suggests self-sacrifice is a high-end form of humility, I'd argue it's an uglier form of pride. Yes, Jesus came to serve but he didn't put himself lower than others, getting down to ground level was to help others in moving to the top floor.

So what's our response to using sympathy and empathy as followers of Jesus? It's ironically simple and complex; pour your heart out to others without letting your tank run empty.

Yellow

A color that i love yet dislike is yellow. My mixed feelings of frustration and admiration of this color began Easter Sunday when I was in middle school. Being a preachers kid the subconscious pressure put a damper on parts of my childhood, one area being celebrating Easter. When all my friends slept in ate chocolate and searched for colorful eggs, my obligations consisted of delivering flowers to deathly ill nursing home residents,  getting my cheeks pinched by a dozen church elders,  and dressing up in uncomfortable Sunday bests making me stick out like a soar thumb in contrast to my peers.

 Sure we engaged in our churches annual Easter extravaganza, but something always feels different when your dad is the guy in charge, a feeling comparable to being shaperond on your first date or taking your mom to prom. That Easter morning I woke up in a especially frustrated mood. Fighting off a cold newly discovered prepubescent hormones and feeling low self-esteem about my weight did not help anything. My mom, Cathy Wilson is a saint. She rightfully earns this claim by her lifestyle of love, truth,  and integrity but especially is recognized by her consistent love and patience raising four boys and a daring adventurous girl.

The unspoken law at the Wilson home gave mom full reign of Easter, but this Sunday in my early adolescence I decided to pull a cue. She warmly requested I wear yellow, I stubbornly defied her request. My attitude was as cold as Haywards 20° springs but one thing that will melt any boys heart no matter how frozen is the sight of his momma in tears. Seeing my mom weeping over my lack of yellow hung over me like a glummy storm cloud for the remainder of the day.

I did end up getting what I wanted, i didn't have to wear yellow, but was this what I really wanted? Not at all. The petty little things in life seem mountainous in the moment, but ultimately we're searching for something much bigger than our current circumstances. Not wearing yellow was a big deal larger than the moon to 13 year old version of me, but my mother's love ultimately is a planet larger than the sun.

Yellow is now one of my favorite colors. It helps me remember to look outside myself to bigger things. Don't make your momma cry over stupid things, or you'll look and feel like a pre adolescent boy pouting about wearing yellow.

Sticky Hands

             Between work, college, and practicum obligations things are a bit of a whirlwind at the Wilson home. We are very dedicated fasters only our act of food restraint is fueled by our inattentiveness to our busy schedule over religious zeal.  Often in the frantic scurry to rush out the door we miss the opportunity to pack a lunch. This results in grabbing food on the go with meals including crackers, chips, and occasionally fruit. On an especially busy Thursday all I found manage to grab as I propelled out the door was an orange.

                Due to an extra bus route, I was ravenous at the return to the bus office. I grabbed my orange and started toward my bus. Using my bare-hands I skinned the orange and started devouring it's fruit like squirrels indulge on acorns before winter. The juices ran out of the orange onto my hands and mouth. Afterwards my hands felt uncomfortably sticky and smelled like citrus. Naturally, my gut instinct nudged me to walk up the hill to the office to wash my hands but than it hit me, our desire to be people of integrity should look like my sticky hands. I think there's a reason Galatians describes godly characteristics as "fruits of the spirit'; fruit though nutritious and sweet are a messy food.

           You're can't expect to eat fruit without staining your mouth or hands, likewise, when you're filled with love your actions and words are stained sweeter. The reason so many avoid living by these fruits is the stickiness it leaves behind. Our natural default says sticky is bad we need to wash off, many attempt the same with God. When we humbly try to live by these fruits, our hands are stained; it doesn't satisfy us anymore to love those we love, our love grows wider, and even compels to love our enemies. Our default says it's unnatural to help, but love springs us into action. With holy sticky hands you feel completely empty sitting idol.

          The real issue most face in living by the fruits of the spirit is the fears of change. What would my life look like if I really gave my thoughts, words, deeds to Jesus? What change would that make in my life? How would that change the way I treat my friends? my family? my neighbors? How would that change the way I treat those who are different?  How would God use a mess like me to show his love to people who desperately need him?

           In the wise words of a favorite psychology professor, "God turns a mess into a message and a test into a testimony."  I think generally people are more open than they are closed. Those who aren't spiritual still want prayers in times of trouble and unrest. People facing tragedy still ask, "Why God?" Our job isn't to be perfect polished people, our job is to live humbly loving God and all people. If you're interested in living by the fruits of the spirit, take a minute this week to say one encouraging thing to someone who might need a warm voice or listening ear.

Mystifying Reality

Life is cold... That's an elementary lesson everyone eventually learns. Experiencing pain is a universal truth and part of being a living breathing human being. 

As five year old boy facinated with nature I was amazed to find wild black berries growing in our acre of backyard woods. Berry after berry my purple stained smile grew larger that is until one fateful berry changed my experience. A ripe large berry caught my eye, but as I had clutched the berry with my stocky little hands, an unexpected buzz and a sharp sting to my palm left me startled, throbbing, and panicked. My joy popped like a baloon leaving shock and pain in its way.

Whether its something as small as a bee sting or something as heavy as betrayal pain happens to all of us. How many times have you failed? Been hurt? Gave up? Gave in? Our response to hurtful situations follows a pattern psychologists like to call "Fight or Flight" meaning our instinct tells us to run for the hills or find a way to bring Godzilla down. 

Running is the perferred choice. The best way to save your own skin is getting it out of harm way. So often we choose running in our lives, relationships, jobs, families, education, and community. Instead of embracing our God ordained empowerement to tackle heavy issues we run from the problems and choose to live a cold life in a cold world. But how do you fight pain? How do you hold on? Isn't this too big for us? The answer can be summerized by one of the first words we learn "No!" 

The first step is saying no. Empowerement is embracing the potential and power that God all ready designed in you to handle challenging situtions; to get tough when things get tough. We're all designed with the ability to sink or swim, while others are more naturally inclind to water others struggle to doggy paddle; whatever your situation it begins by telling the water it cannot keep you under or make you drowned. Pain does happen to all of us, sometimes its an ocean and others might be closer bathtub but to avoid drownding in both one must keep their head above the water. Somtimes handling pain is as simple as taking control becoming the captain, piolet, explorer, and guide of your life. 

Life might get cold, but that's why they invented winter skis.