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My Brother, The Bike Mechanic

I’ve become somewhat of a gnostic lately. I don’t like it one bit.

Don’t get me wrong, I love reason. I love logic. I love science. I absolutely love reading and learning. As a kid, I used to read encyclopedias for fun. And now, I still find myself getting sucked into 45-minute Wikipedia binges.

But the adverse of that, my faith is strong. My faith is real. I have had some real, unexplainable-by-reason-or-logic experiences with the Most High. I have seen the Father work in ways in my life that just can’t be explained by conventional ideas or coincidence. And to me, that’s alright.

The balance has been off lately. I’ve been deconstructing my faith for no other reason than deconstructing it. I’ve been pursuing knowledge far above the equally as (if not more) important experience.

Through prayer and listening, I feel like God has shown me tons of grace for this deconstruction, but He has given me a better blueprint for it.

I’m calling it “constructive deconstruction.”

My brother Evan is a bike mechanic. A damn good one, at that. I was thinking the other day about how he learned so much about bikes and how they work. He learned about them the same way other boys learn about mechanics and electronics and things: taking them apart. Deconstruction, not for the sake of breaking something, but for the sake of learning more about it, and possibly even improving on it. What are the core parts? How do they function? What is their purpose? What can I remove without losing that function or purpose?

I’m sure you can see where I’m going here. We can strip our faith down to it’s very core, learn more about what we really believe, and maybe improve on it by adding a little logic and reason to it all.

What does every bike have? A frame, a chain, pedals, handlebars, a seat, and wheels. Other things such as multiple gears, brakes, reflectors, water bottle holders, and splash guards definitely are good things. They serve their purpose. But they aren’t necessary to the function of the bike, right?

As a Christian, I have my orthodoxy. I have my Apostles’ and Nicene creeds. I have the very core, functional things of my faith: a triune creator-God, authority of Scriptures, salvation by grace through the resurrection of Jesus, a promise of hope and peace for the future, a community of brothers and sisters to stand with—you get the point. I can add other theologies and doctrines and lifestyle choices and other things on top of this that are all good and purposeful, but not essential. Just like a bike, we always benefit from learning more about it’s function and removing the unneeded things, to make our ride as light and efficient as possible. Not saying it’s easy—you will know what I mean if you’ve ever taken a fixed-gear bike for a ride.

I’ll take the analogy one step farther, which is God, through his grace, meeting us where we are at. My brother has a room full of bike parts: frames, wheels, gears, handlebars, shocks, and the like. He can custom-build a multitude of bikes for any occasion, any terrain. If he is going to be riding in the mountains or in the woods, he’ll throw some extra gears on, use a stronger frame, and use fat, knobby tires. If he’s going to be tooling around the city, chances are he’ll have nothing but thin road tires and a single, fixed gear. The bike is different, but it still has the same core parts, and still serves the same purpose: riding. Some people need certain types of theology, certain types of doctrine, certain takes on the Gospel in order to really “get” it. Some people need nothing more than the basics. Some people need some bells and whistles to help them move forward. But at it’s core, there’s still only one unchanging Gospel. One Gospel that serves one purpose.

For me, adding knowledge helps me find the beauty in the Gospel. I am constantly learning. Learning new stuff about the history of the Bible, the historical Jesus, the different cultures that the scriptures were written in—sometimes taking it to the point of questioning some core elements of my faith. But when I step back and look at it, I think to myself: “I know that I still need that wheel. I know I still need those handlebars.” That’s what keeps me pressing on towards Jesus. I know that He is real, and I still believe in the core doctrines and purpose of this faith I hold so dearly.

Lately, the scale has been tipped too far in the knowledge direction. I don’t want to become a gnostic. I don’t want to make knowledge my god, I want knowledge to compliment my God.  Sometimes I just need to remember what’s important.

Sometimes I need to replace the inner-tube on the tire to keep it inflated.

Sometimes I need to grease the chain up to keep the ride smooth.

And I thank God everyday for keeping me on the bike.

By Collin | Also posted in Encouragement, Struggling, The Classics, Theology | Comments (2)

Yeah, We All Hate Being Misunderstood.

I’m going to preface this post by saying that I do not have these thoughts together. This started as something I brought up in a discussion with a good friend, kind of pulling a devil’s advocate move. A couple of days later, I talked about it with my co-author, Israel, only in a little bit more middle-of-the-road tone. This might be dangerous stuff. I don’t know. Anyhow, these are just thoughts that are jumbling around in my head—some I believe, some I probably don’t.

“Well, is it rooted in the Word?”

“Well, I’m not sure he is using the proper hermeneutic.”

“I don’t think her interpretation is a biblical one.”

I hear and read these phrases a lot. Maybe it’s just the people, blogs, and other reading/discussions I surround myself with. Maybe I’m just looking for it (probably this one). Regardless, it’s definitely a hot-button issue this day and age in Christendom. Usually along the left-right divide. Or the traditional-emerging divide. Or the Collin-and-his-other-Christian-friends divide. My question is why is it an issue?

This idea that I’ve got it pinned, I know what God REALLY meant. The fact that it starts to become “dangerous stuff” or “heretical” when we start to question the cultural norm of scriptural interpretation. This doesn’t sit well with me.

Why is it dangerous? Honestly, all the arguing and debating seems to be more dangerous to me. That seems to be the “unbiblical” part. Galatians 5:15 says “If you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other.” We aren’t going to move the Kingdom forward if we are sitting here bickering over who knows it best.

Generally, no matter what “team” you are on, what side you take, 99% of Christians agree that Jesus is the Son of God, and was crucified in our place, and that we take part in the graceful story of God through His resurrection. That we are “saved by grace, through faith.” And that there is no separation anymore between us and the Father. And that the Jesus way of abundant life is THE way of life. That’s the Gospel. And that’s some good news!

So my question is, if that story, that story of resurrection life is central to our view of the scriptures, are we really misinterpreting anything? Yeah we can argue about our views on whatever doctrine, but what does that REALLY matter at all when it comes down to it?

Yeah, I know, that’s the dangerous part. That’s where excusing sin comes in. That’s where we tell ourselves what our “itching ears” want to hear. And that’s where I start to struggle with this whole idea. But one thing I do believe is that the closer we are to Jesus, the closer we dig into His story, the more we follow in His ways, the easier it is for us to hear the conviction of the Holy Spirit. So, say my interpretation of some subject is wrong in God’s eyes. Well, even if that’s where I started, the closer I get to Jesus, the more open I will be to listening to the Holy Spirit’s correction.

But hey, I could be wrong, and I’m OK with that. We are just humans reading a book. Everything else is just Grace.

By Collin | Also posted in Theology, WTF | Comments (0)

Braille & Candlelight

Two weekends ago I was in Hamilton, Ohio, at my church’s annual men’s retreat. The theme that was weaving in and out of the weekend was this idea of how we take our work and life. There were basically two options, the speaker said, “labor” and “opus.” Labor being just that—labor. Work for the sake of work. Tiring. Mundane. Life-sucking. Opus being this idea of a good work. A masterpiece. A joyful work. What we are passionate about. What we were made to do.

Throughout the course of the weekend, I was continually reflecting on these lyrics from the song “Circles” by Thrice:

“True progress means changing the world to the vision in our heads, but we always change the vision instead.”

Just typing them out sends chills down my spine. I haven’t read lyrics in quite some time that ring not only so universally true, but incredibly true to me. How many times and in how many places in my life did I have some great vision—some great idea or passion—that over time just kind of fell by the wayside, or that I just dumbed down to the point of punching the clock?

I know I’ve been called to great works. We all have. It’s just up to us to see them through. I know that I’d love to have my hand held and pulled along, knowing when to do this or that, knowing exactly how my passion and vision gets played out. But where’s the fun in that? And where’s the challenge?

So when it comes to the vision that you have, the idea you have (that one that deep down you know is great), the passion you have, I have one challenge:

What are you waiting for?

Let’s stop compromising the ABUNDANT LIFE promised to us just to stay comfortable.

By Collin | Also posted in Encouragement | Comments (1)

Open Wide Your Hearts

Maybe I’m writing this because I am still on a high from my small group a couple days ago—or maybe because my pastor has been preaching on it for the last three weeks—but I think it’s high time that we all start ripping our hearts open. 

I have been reflecting on how easy it is as a culture to close ourselves off. I think we can easily go through life having nothing but superficial conversation. How easy is it for someone to see someone they might even be close to and having  ”hey, how are you? Fine. How are you? Fine.” kind of conversation? In turn, we end up bottling up the smallest—all the way to the biggest things. 

Two nights ago, twelve of us spent nearly three hours encouraging each other. We literally went around the room one by one, and just told each person how we felt about them, just to make them feel good. You could feel the warmth in the room. It was an amazing feeling, being blessed and blessing others. To see tears flow and to see eyes light up, and to see people really get in touch with their true identities is incredible. 

This doesn’t just apply to encouragement though. It also applies to other things, like confession. This is a hard one. I mean, it’s our nature as humankind to not tell people things. Even people we trust. As children, when you are doing something wrong, and you get called out on it, what do you do? Lie about it? Check. Run and hide because you know you are guilty? Check. Blame someone else? Check. From our childhood, we are ingrained with this type of mentality. If you are doing something that goes against what you believe at your very core (or what you were taught to believe), you don’t tell anyone about it. Because then you might be embarrassed, or get into trouble.

Or maybe someone might think a little less of you. 

The thing we don’t see, from that early age on into adult life, is that if we DO just come out with it, with what we did—or who we are—the understanding usually flows like a river. At least the consequences aren’t as high.

If I told my mom that I was doing “X”, maybe my punishment would be “y” instead of “Y”.

If I told my best friend that I am struggling with “X”, maybe my heart will be healed in “y”-time instead of “Y”-time. 

Dustin Kensrue of Thrice said it best in my opinion: “But until then all of our scars will still remain, but we’ve learned that if we’ll open the wounds and share them then soon they start to heal. As long as we live, every scar is a bridge to someone’s broken heart, and there’s no greater love than that one shed his blood for his friends.”

Let’s do this together. Let’s open wide our hearts. Let’s be a little more vulnerable, even if it stings a bit.

By Collin | Also posted in Culture | Comments (3)

Confidence is (not) key.

Man, I am a fucking asshole.

Ever learn something about yourself way too late to fix anything? I was confronted with my own insecurity the other night in a conversation with my wife. I have always known the whole over-confidence to fill the void left by insecurity idea. I couldn’t tell you how many times Ciara and I have been driving down the highway and see some guy in his monster truck and joking to ourselves “well, he is sure making up for something.” I get it. There are two kinds of confidence. Confidence that says “I know that I am better than insecurity,” and confidence that says “I am incredibly insecure.”

At least I think I get it.

I recently found out that much of my confidence lies in the latter option. I like to think that I am better than my insecurity. I like to think that I have been totally healed of the wounds and curses placed on me by a “father figure” in my childhood. I like to think I am over it, and that I’m a better man. I know that I am better than my insecurity.

No I don’t. 

I am cocky. I’m a dickhead. I’m judgemental. I am a fucking asshole. And if I’m not saying it, I’m thinking it. Most of the time, completely unconsciously. My wife tells me about hurt that she has been feeling for a long time, and I ask her “why haven’t you told me this? I wish you would have told me a long time ago.” Then the bomb drops. “You didn’t listen to me when I have, and if I try, you just get defensive and make my feelings completely invalid.” Instantly I realize that I act like I have everything together. I act like I have all the answers. I act like I haven’t swept years upon years of rejection under the carpet. I act like I don’t care what people think about me. 

James 5:16 says “Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed. The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much.” I have a lot to learn still, obviously. But being thrown off my high-horse violently has at least got the wheels turning. 

Here is something I have been working on that illustrates this in the simplest way possible (click to see larger):

 

By Collin | Comments (7)