Sometimes, things disappear. In fact, with time, almost all things do.
"My David, that's a bleak way to start, don't you think?"
Stick with me, and you may enjoy where this is going. It's going to get good.
A few days ago, I set up a meeting at one of the only places I know of to get good, home-brewed chai in Chicago: Safari Cup. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to an empty shell of the coffee shop that once provided by most beloved substance. (Sound familiar? Something similar happened with me in regard to Borders Cafes years ago.) The only trace of the haven where I once enjoyed such solace with my beloved beverage was a sign with the old shop's logo on the side of the building, boasting of what had been but is, alas, no longer. After some discouragement, I was actually encouraged by this stark reminder of a truth that feels very important for me to remember in this season of letting go and preparing for what's to come. That's what I want to spend some time exploring today.
I am someone who places great value on people, experiences, places, and anything else in my life that provides me with the rich flavors of life. I value these so much, in fact, that it is very hard for me to let go of them when they are longer present. Something feels irreconcilable in this, as if I could never forget these rich fountains that once flowed so beautifully and freely in my life but have stopped flowing for various reasons. In my heart, I'm longing for the eternal, as Solomon wrote in his famous book of wisdom, Ecclesiastes:
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart..." -Ecclesiastes 3:11
Unfortunately, we live in a tension of this temporal life on earth and the promise of all things being made new through Jesus, banishing death once and for all. So what are we to do in the in between, the reality of things passing away and the equal reality of our human desire for what's beautiful to remain forever? I think the answer may have to do with one word: process.
Process implies movement. In life, there is movement from one moment to another, one stage to the next, and in order to move to, there must be a moving from. I spoke earlier about wanting to hold onto what's beautiful from the past. And while memories have their place, they are not a very sustainable place to live. A prophet named Isaiah hit this right on the nail as he was claiming to speak on God's behalf. I think God was giving the people of that old time a key to life that also applies to our lives here today. He says,
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland." -Isaiah 43:18-19
Did you catch that? It seems impossible to forget the past completely, especially those things which were very beautiful or even painful. Both beauty and pain can cut us so deeply. Sometimes, beauty can cause the most pain when it's no longer a present reality. And I think that's what Isaiah is getting at here. Forget the things of the past in as much as they are causing you to live in the past. There's no life there. There's no chai at Safari Cup in Chicago any longer. It's somewhere else! So take your eyes off of the rearview mirror and look ahead at the surroundings in front of you so that you can see where the chai is located now. I use the metaphor of chai, but you can insert just about anything here.
What I often do, and I think what many of us end up doing when some major, life-giving establishment no longer remains is that we fixate on the ruins, either lamenting or re-imagining what was inside, and hoping that this will somehow change things. It doesn't. The next big thing might just be across the street, or a few blocks down. Maybe it's being built so it's visibility is not the highest on your reality radar. But if we'll take our eyes off of the old thing and look up, we might just see what's coming. He says, "See, I am doing a new thing!" I love that. "SEE!" I also love that the places where God builds something new for us are often in the places that we would least expect, the places that are hitherto unexplored by us...the wilderness...the wasteland.
At the beginning of this post, I mentioned a verse from Ecclesiastes, but I specifically left off the second part of the verse, until now. Here is the full version: "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."
Beginning to end...If we can live in the present, enjoy the process, and look to the future, we won't get stuck dwelling in the past...or trying to drink chai in a building that's vacant.
Showing posts with label letting go of the past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label letting go of the past. Show all posts
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Gatsby, Love, Death, and the Elusive, Green Light
Last night I saw Baz Luhrmann's mesmerizing film adaptation of The Great Gatsby, and given the state of transition that I find myself in currently, the film struck many chords in my heart and mind on multiple levels. I was particularly impacted by what the film seemed to say about the perils of holding to the past too tightly in an attempt to prolong something that is no longer relevant to the present. This I would like to explore with some thoughts from my own musings with God in the Bible the past few days, and a U2 reference thrown in for good measure. If this sounds like interesting food for thought, please, join me as I digress.
For those of you familiar with the book by F. Scott Fitzgerald or who have recently seen the new film adaption (or the old one, for that matter, though I don't know how good it is), the affluent Gatsby spends an incredible amount of time, thought, and personal resource towards reclaiming a past love that in his mind is meant to be his again. (Spoiler alert, important info coming up, fyi.) However, as the story unfolds and Gatsby's plans play themselves out, he is left with little more than a fleeting phantom of the love that he once shared with the ethereal yet earth-bound Daisy. Ultimately, Gatsby's attempts to recreate and reform a fractured past disintegrate in a beautifully tragic sequence of his great love retreating back into herself, away from Gatsby and the subsequent death of our tragic hero. Were this a Greek tragedy, we might say that hope, while his greatest strength, also turned out to be Gatsby's tragic flaw, the hamartia leading to the hero's impending death. Much like Gatsby's fixation upon the green light across the water, flashing on and off in the distance signaling the hope of a dream deferred yet sought after again, so also the object of his desire in Daisy proved to be a waning light, on, then off, beckoning in the distance, yet never to remain steady.
Okay, are you depressed yet? If so, this is not my intent, but I suppose you may be feeling the weight of the above scenario as I am as I write this. Thus, I would like to introduce the hope. If hope can be a flaw, a hope to reclaim a past that is no longer supposed to be or able to be, then where is the place for present hope? I believe it comes in putting the past to death and beginning a new journey, letting the green light fade, and finding a new direction in which to focus one's gaze. Some may take this to mean something relationally, as if I were implying that this is simply about saying goodbye to and old season of love and finding a new object of affection to fixate upon. While this can certainly be the case, I think the concept of hope in a new direction applies in a much broader way. It has to do with new experiences, a new ways of living, being, new environments and circumstances, and a willingness to leave the familiars of the past in order to step into these fresh gifts with eyes and heart clear and open. We've got to leave the state that U2 so poignantly sings about with in their album All That You Can't Leave Behind: "You've got to get yourself together. You got stuck in a moment, and you can't get out of it."
I was in a food establishment recently where I had heard the chai was most excellent, and the time of day finally allowed me test that mettle of this praise. To my great delight, the accolade that this chai had received was well deserved, and I felt supremely blessed to have to found another good place in Chicago to enjoy really GOOD chai (something the quality of which is quite hard to find in a restaurant or cafe). Why do I bring this up? Well, in this time, I was reminded of the rewards that can come with risk in seeking out new avenues of sustenance, new environments and opportunities to engage with which can sometimes only be experienced if one is willing to step out of a comfort zone and risk the disappointment or pleasure that the unfamiliar may provide. In this case, the unfamiliar was Native Foods Cafe, a place that I was familiar with in so far as their Vegan chili (Vegan though I am not), yet not certain as to whether or not the chai would meet my expectations. I am thankful that it did. In that same environment, I was also met with another experience which further affirmed this venture into change. The waitress asked me later if I wanted a refill, to which I replied, "Surely it is not a free refill since it is chai, right?" I was pleasantly mistaken, and upon savoring the substance of another round of that heavenly liquid, I thought how in life God also provides us re-fills once our cup is empty (or almost empty), and how in order for a refill to take place, an emptying to some degree must precede it.
Empty your cup. Give it to Jesus for a refill. The old was good, but it's gone. Time for something fresh. New light. New, green light.........GO.
“No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; otherwise the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear results.22“No one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost and the skins as well; but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins.” -Jesus, in Mark 2:21-22
"You've got to get yourself together.
You've got stuck in a moment,
and you can't get out of it.
Don't say that later will be better.
Now you're stuck in a moment,
and you can't get out of it." - U2, from their album All That You Can't Leave Behind
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning-- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
For those of you familiar with the book by F. Scott Fitzgerald or who have recently seen the new film adaption (or the old one, for that matter, though I don't know how good it is), the affluent Gatsby spends an incredible amount of time, thought, and personal resource towards reclaiming a past love that in his mind is meant to be his again. (Spoiler alert, important info coming up, fyi.) However, as the story unfolds and Gatsby's plans play themselves out, he is left with little more than a fleeting phantom of the love that he once shared with the ethereal yet earth-bound Daisy. Ultimately, Gatsby's attempts to recreate and reform a fractured past disintegrate in a beautifully tragic sequence of his great love retreating back into herself, away from Gatsby and the subsequent death of our tragic hero. Were this a Greek tragedy, we might say that hope, while his greatest strength, also turned out to be Gatsby's tragic flaw, the hamartia leading to the hero's impending death. Much like Gatsby's fixation upon the green light across the water, flashing on and off in the distance signaling the hope of a dream deferred yet sought after again, so also the object of his desire in Daisy proved to be a waning light, on, then off, beckoning in the distance, yet never to remain steady.
Okay, are you depressed yet? If so, this is not my intent, but I suppose you may be feeling the weight of the above scenario as I am as I write this. Thus, I would like to introduce the hope. If hope can be a flaw, a hope to reclaim a past that is no longer supposed to be or able to be, then where is the place for present hope? I believe it comes in putting the past to death and beginning a new journey, letting the green light fade, and finding a new direction in which to focus one's gaze. Some may take this to mean something relationally, as if I were implying that this is simply about saying goodbye to and old season of love and finding a new object of affection to fixate upon. While this can certainly be the case, I think the concept of hope in a new direction applies in a much broader way. It has to do with new experiences, a new ways of living, being, new environments and circumstances, and a willingness to leave the familiars of the past in order to step into these fresh gifts with eyes and heart clear and open. We've got to leave the state that U2 so poignantly sings about with in their album All That You Can't Leave Behind: "You've got to get yourself together. You got stuck in a moment, and you can't get out of it."
I was in a food establishment recently where I had heard the chai was most excellent, and the time of day finally allowed me test that mettle of this praise. To my great delight, the accolade that this chai had received was well deserved, and I felt supremely blessed to have to found another good place in Chicago to enjoy really GOOD chai (something the quality of which is quite hard to find in a restaurant or cafe). Why do I bring this up? Well, in this time, I was reminded of the rewards that can come with risk in seeking out new avenues of sustenance, new environments and opportunities to engage with which can sometimes only be experienced if one is willing to step out of a comfort zone and risk the disappointment or pleasure that the unfamiliar may provide. In this case, the unfamiliar was Native Foods Cafe, a place that I was familiar with in so far as their Vegan chili (Vegan though I am not), yet not certain as to whether or not the chai would meet my expectations. I am thankful that it did. In that same environment, I was also met with another experience which further affirmed this venture into change. The waitress asked me later if I wanted a refill, to which I replied, "Surely it is not a free refill since it is chai, right?" I was pleasantly mistaken, and upon savoring the substance of another round of that heavenly liquid, I thought how in life God also provides us re-fills once our cup is empty (or almost empty), and how in order for a refill to take place, an emptying to some degree must precede it.
Empty your cup. Give it to Jesus for a refill. The old was good, but it's gone. Time for something fresh. New light. New, green light.........GO.
“No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; otherwise the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear results.22“No one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost and the skins as well; but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins.” -Jesus, in Mark 2:21-22
"You've got to get yourself together.
You've got stuck in a moment,
and you can't get out of it.
Don't say that later will be better.
Now you're stuck in a moment,
and you can't get out of it." - U2, from their album All That You Can't Leave Behind
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning-- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Monday, August 24, 2009
Chai for the Present
"Those who sow in tears
will reap with songs of joy." -Psalm 126:5
A little more than a week ago, God invited me on a journey into the depths of my heart, to let go of something that had been taking root for a long, long, time. This something wasn't a bad thing, mind you. But because it doesn't belong there any longer and is taking up space where new growth should occur, it needs to be taken out. I need to let it go. And it's hard. There has been a seed of hope resting in the rich soil of pleasant memories and taking root in the hope that those memories might become present realities, or at least blossom into buds for the future. But memories aren't a good place to live.
Something that I feel God showed me this past week is that I have been sowing into the past, into something that no longer exists, which leaves little seed for the present.
Another way to look at is is through the metaphor of Chai. I used to go to Borders and get my Chai fix on a regular basis, as they sold the best Chai available in their signature Borders Cafes. Today, these Borders Cafes no longer exist. Oh, the Borders stores still serve cafe beverages, but it's a totally different cafe and thus a totally different set of drinks. They say they offer Chai, but it's not the same stuff that I grew to love and write poetry about back in the days of Borders Cafes. So back to the present. There's this hope in my heart, this longing, even a belief, that I have held onto for so long, but it's a belief that is rooted in a past reality...no longer present. Were I to hold onto that hope from the past, it would be like me hitting up today's Borders stores in the pursuit of my most beloved Chai, to no avail. Why? Because Borders doesn't serve the same Chai any more. It's a different cafe altogether, so why am I seeking what is no longer there?
Here's a nice surprise. If I leave the safe world of Borders stores (which I have), and venture into other cafes to try the various Chai's offered, maybe, just maybe I will find a Chai as good as the one I used to enjoy in the glory days of Borders Chai. Sure, I might run into a good number of counterfeit Chai's, coffee shops promising something that they can't deliver (which has often been the case in my experience), but is it worth the risk? Might I find a Chai somewhere whose divine quality resonates with the kiss of heaven? Is it possible? Is it?
It is. I have found it.
You see, last weekend while visiting the International House of Prayer in Kansas City after a friend's wedding, I stumbled upon my most beloved substance in quite an interesting way. I was in this prayer room, which was really intense, and there was a part of that intensity that I was able to enter into. But after awhile, there was a part of me that needed a rest and almost sensed God saying, "Take a rest, David. Come into the cafe with me."
I ventured into this cafe they have called "Higher Groundz" and I was struck when I found that they had three types of Chai available...no, four. I thought, "Hmmm...That's interesting. Reminds me of the Borders days." I asked them what kind of Chai they served, and the barista said it was "Big Train." Big Train. Hmmm...I thought I'd had Big Train before and wasn't impressed, but maybe I was mistaken. Let's go for it. So I went for it, and here's what happened. After sitting down with my Vanilla Chai (for that's the best there can be), I took one sip, and immediately my senses were aroused. My nose knew the aroma that can only come from sipping the beloved Borders Chai. My tongue leaped with joy inside my mouth as if it were surprised by the greeting of a very old friend. "This is Borders Chai!" I thought. "Granted, they didn't put enough of the Chai powder in there, but I daresay this is the same as Borders Chai!" I proceeded to ask the barista if he would give me more of the Chai powder to place in my drink (yes, as a matter of fact, Chai powder concentrates CAN be very good), and after stirring it in and taking another sip, I knew I had entered a sacred place. But it wasn't Borders in the present, and it wasn't Borders in the past. It was a moment in time I would have never expected to find Borders Chai, in a place I had never been and never imagined the site of such a joyful reunion.
There are surprises awaiting in the present and cups of joy abounding in the future. If I can celebrate what's past and lament the loss of what is no longer here, then I can open my heart wide for the present Chai pouring in. And I too can pour into the present, preparing a rich brew for the future.
"I am the LORD your God,
who brought you up out of Egypt.
Open wide your mouth and I will fill it." -Psalm 81:10.
will reap with songs of joy." -Psalm 126:5
A little more than a week ago, God invited me on a journey into the depths of my heart, to let go of something that had been taking root for a long, long, time. This something wasn't a bad thing, mind you. But because it doesn't belong there any longer and is taking up space where new growth should occur, it needs to be taken out. I need to let it go. And it's hard. There has been a seed of hope resting in the rich soil of pleasant memories and taking root in the hope that those memories might become present realities, or at least blossom into buds for the future. But memories aren't a good place to live.
Something that I feel God showed me this past week is that I have been sowing into the past, into something that no longer exists, which leaves little seed for the present.
Another way to look at is is through the metaphor of Chai. I used to go to Borders and get my Chai fix on a regular basis, as they sold the best Chai available in their signature Borders Cafes. Today, these Borders Cafes no longer exist. Oh, the Borders stores still serve cafe beverages, but it's a totally different cafe and thus a totally different set of drinks. They say they offer Chai, but it's not the same stuff that I grew to love and write poetry about back in the days of Borders Cafes. So back to the present. There's this hope in my heart, this longing, even a belief, that I have held onto for so long, but it's a belief that is rooted in a past reality...no longer present. Were I to hold onto that hope from the past, it would be like me hitting up today's Borders stores in the pursuit of my most beloved Chai, to no avail. Why? Because Borders doesn't serve the same Chai any more. It's a different cafe altogether, so why am I seeking what is no longer there?
Here's a nice surprise. If I leave the safe world of Borders stores (which I have), and venture into other cafes to try the various Chai's offered, maybe, just maybe I will find a Chai as good as the one I used to enjoy in the glory days of Borders Chai. Sure, I might run into a good number of counterfeit Chai's, coffee shops promising something that they can't deliver (which has often been the case in my experience), but is it worth the risk? Might I find a Chai somewhere whose divine quality resonates with the kiss of heaven? Is it possible? Is it?
It is. I have found it.
You see, last weekend while visiting the International House of Prayer in Kansas City after a friend's wedding, I stumbled upon my most beloved substance in quite an interesting way. I was in this prayer room, which was really intense, and there was a part of that intensity that I was able to enter into. But after awhile, there was a part of me that needed a rest and almost sensed God saying, "Take a rest, David. Come into the cafe with me."
I ventured into this cafe they have called "Higher Groundz" and I was struck when I found that they had three types of Chai available...no, four. I thought, "Hmmm...That's interesting. Reminds me of the Borders days." I asked them what kind of Chai they served, and the barista said it was "Big Train." Big Train. Hmmm...I thought I'd had Big Train before and wasn't impressed, but maybe I was mistaken. Let's go for it. So I went for it, and here's what happened. After sitting down with my Vanilla Chai (for that's the best there can be), I took one sip, and immediately my senses were aroused. My nose knew the aroma that can only come from sipping the beloved Borders Chai. My tongue leaped with joy inside my mouth as if it were surprised by the greeting of a very old friend. "This is Borders Chai!" I thought. "Granted, they didn't put enough of the Chai powder in there, but I daresay this is the same as Borders Chai!" I proceeded to ask the barista if he would give me more of the Chai powder to place in my drink (yes, as a matter of fact, Chai powder concentrates CAN be very good), and after stirring it in and taking another sip, I knew I had entered a sacred place. But it wasn't Borders in the present, and it wasn't Borders in the past. It was a moment in time I would have never expected to find Borders Chai, in a place I had never been and never imagined the site of such a joyful reunion.
There are surprises awaiting in the present and cups of joy abounding in the future. If I can celebrate what's past and lament the loss of what is no longer here, then I can open my heart wide for the present Chai pouring in. And I too can pour into the present, preparing a rich brew for the future.
"I am the LORD your God,
who brought you up out of Egypt.
Open wide your mouth and I will fill it." -Psalm 81:10.
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