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donttellmykidsiblog.com
I've had my share of rough times (nothing bad compared to some), and I live in a continent of corruption, crime, and instability. I also have a great family, job, security, and even a dog. I like to think about things. I want to know the rational basis for who I am and why I am. And I like to write about it because it helps me focus and brings clarity. So when I stumbled on a blog entry (here) that was titled "Going crazy? ... just write" I clicked through to read because it resonated with me. What I found was a raw reality of someones courage that, on the one hand is trivial compared to many on this continent, and on the other hand was a deep and real experience that puts all intellectual thinking on the back burner. Because what happens to an individual is that individual's personal struggle ... it doesn't matter that others have less or worse trials, that individual still has to deal with all the personal trauma. Reading the blog was a reality check for me ... experience trumps theory, Jesus is there in the midst of all things, and we're not as clever as we think we are when we try reason matters away. However much I try and reason about facts and philosophies, I cannot deny experience, I cannot ignore a persons story. There is my story, there is your story. We can reason till the cows come home, but we cannot change our experience. Sometimes stories intersect and we can share strength and courage. Sometimes we feel no one has read our story. But there is another story that intersected mine, its the biggest story of all time. It's rational and inexplicable, and has made my story joy-full until that day when I am fully what I was created to be.
This was my submarine
Recently I shared a submarine with a Nepalese. Actually he grew up in Nepal and now lives in Australia. We shared a submarine in Korea. So it was a South African with a Nepalese from Australia underwater in a submarine off the coast of Korea. The experience was a microcosm of life ... all puns intended. There we sat in our safe shell of steel and glass looking at the foreign world outside. Odd fish, weird structures, and distorted landscapes drifted by as we floated along. We were warm, dry, and safe. But my new Nepalese friend and I also had our own invisible submarines ... the bubbles of our different cultures, experiences, values, and desires. And in our short time together we were immersed in the oddities of each other's world. Yet all the time we remained in the security of our personal submarines, peering, as it were, at each other through our portholes. And then we surfaced, literally and figuratively, and each went back into the familiarities of our known environments. Christians are like this. We arrive at church in our submarines, hatches firmly locked down as we navigate around the peculiarities of institutionalized religion, observing the odd landscapes of each other, and communicating in a language distorted by our unrealized enclosures. If you are in a submarine and you open the hatch underwater, a lot of things happen. You get wet for one. Also, the pressure increases dramatically, fear is a reality and personal safety becomes paramount. Your options are suddenly limited, choices are few, and it's a battle to survive. Yet, opening the hatch is the ONLY way to really know the environment outside. Imagine the immensity of Jesus's submarine experience. Coming from heaven to earth, he opened the hatch and swam outside. Perhaps we should do the same. |
Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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