A Feast of Fools

My mom thanked me yesterday for introducing her to Pandora this summer. It has apparently revolutionized her work hours, so I told her I'll hook her up with some AOL Radio if she wants. She promptly declined, stating that she doesn't intend to overstimulate herself.

Keep it simple, stupid. Or is it just simple stupid? Could be either one here.

I do understand her aversion to the idea. I just picked up my laptop with the intention of writing this blog post and, as usual, got lost in the forest of facebook, twitter, and random searches and blogs along the way before my little puppy ears perked up at the high pitch of the "To the Life!" whistle. It's not that I am required to write this post, but I've been inspired, which hasn't been a common occurrence in my world this semester. Inspiration. Pah.

The inspiration here comes from reading a book that finally articulates these thoughts that have been slowly forming in my mind over the course of this semester, especially over the course of this past month as I've even been struggling to drag myself to church every Sunday. Sounds terrible, don't it? The truth is dirty sometimes, but fortunately that grime only stains the crevices of this earth.

Anyway, it all started when Sadie brought home one of those "Read with Discernment" warnings from Lifeway that she was handed upon her purchase of Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz. I didn't know about these things, but they've apparently been warning readers against reading Don Miller's book as though it is the very Word of God. Good call, Lifeway. I got pretty annoyed that they decided to single out Don Miller when we Christians should probably be discerning everything we read, including such greats as John Piper and RC Sproul. Don Miller never claimed to be a theologian as far as I know. The dude's just got a story to tell, but I don't think he's under any sort of illusion that he is bringing The Message to the world by essentially writing his own biography and testimony to what God has done in his life.

So I made it my mission to head over to Lifeway, purchase a book by Don Miller, and refuse a copy of the discernment guide, which would afford me the opportunity to suggest maybe not singling out one non-canonical author but perhaps throwing a blanket over all of them (given all of this warning business is really that necessary).

But since I already own a copy of Blue Like Jazz, I grabbed A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. However, I had already decided at this point that I wouldn't take up the issue with these nice-looking folks since it really is a corporate matter, and for all I know the manager of this particular Lifeway may feel the same way I do about the policy. I've convinced myself at this point that he/she does--just a small comfort to appease myself.

The sweet old lady at the register didn't even hand me one of the discernment guides anyway, but she did look at me a bit disparagingly when I didn't want to purchase a Jesus bag for $1. "Sorry, I don't really do bags," doesn't seem to be a good enough reason to withhold an extra dollar. Good thing that store smells like [Son]shine and Christmas. Redemption.

Redemption continued when I reached the end of chapter twenty-nine of this book not too long ago and decided I found *it*. Special asterisks for a special it, yes. I guess I'll start explaining *it* by throwing down some of the words that struck me:

"We all get worked into a frenzy over things that will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy."

"But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax... When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God."

I like that there are several Christian authors these days lamenting how cheap we've made God. If I am honest with myself, my primary frustration is most likely rooted in how cheap I've made God for myself. How easily I get trapped in this idea that God needs to fix things now, but he's not allowed to mess with this or that in the process. I cling to this idea that my personality is extremely important because without it, I have no identity. Please God, don't take away my sarcasm. That's my staple! That's my charm! It's kind of like I'm a pocketknife that won't let you use any of my features except for the knife because that's my best feature.

And so I noted that Don Miller is basically relaying the deeper message of Ecclesiastes. Everything will suck now if we actually do put all our expectations and desires in what we've got going on here. Miller furthered his point by saying Paul and the disciples would have been hard-pressed to promise a blissful life on earth with the amount of turmoil they went through. There was never any promise that everything will work out for our good here, but we do have that promise for when we get there. Jesus said, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jesus always had his focus on the kingdom of heaven, and that is pretty significant. Why do we want to cheapen Him and distort His love with our own self-righteous political agenda or put a Jesus band-aid over every flesh wound that we eventually wind up ripping off once it becomes unnecessary?

It's not that Jesus isn't relevant to the here and now. That's clear by the fact that he became a man. But Jesus was resurrected from the dead and God put eternity on man's heart because that's where our treasure lies.

Don Miller concludes chapter twenty-nine: "Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast."