Matters of Perspective

Yesterday, I had a lunch date at Chipotle (mmm... Chipotle...). I backed out of my garage into the alley, and as I turned to look forward, I noticed a big ol' snowplow cruising past the end of the alley in the distance. I had a Tim Allen "huh, huh" moment because of the massive machine, but something about it bothered me. Lo and behold, I got to the end of the alley to pull into the street, and what to my wondering eyes did appear but the plow -- a mini front-end loader designed for clearing sidewalks. I had that strange moment of vertigo as my perception shifted and clicked, like when you finally see the sailboat in those "magic eye" pictures that were all over the malls in the late 90s. It was just this teeny little plow. The impression was no longer one of raw power, but of simple work. I had to laugh.

A couple of days before, I noticed a blurb on IMDB about this American Family Association that's boycotting NBC's "The Book of Daniel" because it features an episcopal priest who talks to Jesus. The problem? He is also "addicted to painkillers, has an alcoholic wife, a drug-dealing daughter and a gay son." I rolled my eyes and thought to myself "Frickin' Christians..." I mean, seriously, how many ministers -- how many CHRISTIANS are addicted to substances or work or (gasp) ministry? Are wrestling with broken relationships? Have no clue how to effectively fight for their kids? Aren't these precisely the kind of people Jesus WANTS to talk to? Don't get me wrong - I have a healthy amount of skepticism about any "Christian-themed" progam that makes it to network TV (ask Judy how resistant I still am to Joan of Arcadia...). But it seems to me that even if the show is completely theologically whack'd and WAY off base, we should celebrate, because at least it can leverage dialogue about the things of God. I walked away from the article preparing a blog-style smackdown rant calling down lightning on the latter-day Pharisees of the AFA.

Then I came across Jan's post. She surprised me yet again, quoting Semisonic's tune "Closing Time" (I love that song!). Reading those words again, singing them in my head with Jan and her story of late in my mind, tears came to my eyes. This super-fun song that could so easily be written off as an ode to the drunken one-night stand shifted. The spelling of the chorus changed in my mind to "I know Who I want to take me home." Not the usual, jeff-drama, life-sucks-God-let-it-end sort of take me home, but a take-the-driver's-seat, whatever-road-You-choose-no-matter-how-winding kind of take me home. It became an anthem of dependence.

Notice the difference in perspective?

Timbur's post from a while ago has stuck with me, ringing in my mind. I read the papers, channel surf to FOX news for a few minutes, and my stomach turns at being stuck with the label "Christian" in this culture. But I also feel like it would be giving ground to call myself something else, though since DC Talk, I've kinda liked "Jesus Freak." So here's my solution. I'm taking a page from the consumer culture and coining the word "Xian." I don't think I would ever call a person an Xian, but organizations and behaviours definitely qualify. Xians take the Christ out of Christian. They are more concerned with prohibitions than with possibilities, more focused on politics than people, more vested in safety than salvation.

And no sooner do I type that than I notice the Xian in me. Ugh.

But I want to be a Christian. I want to follow a God who's not safe, but is good. I want to practice risky obedience. I want to be able to see Kingdom significance in everything, to say with Gerard Manley Hopkins, "The world is full of the grandeur of God."

So to my inner Xian, I hope you wither and die. To Jesus, take me home. On the way, give me more and more Kingdom perspective. And may my wee little plow clear a bit of the way for others.