Identity – Page 2 – The Word Worker

Forsaking Assembly

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“Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is”

“not abandoning our own meeting together, as is the habit of some people”

“not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing”

“not neglecting to gather together, as some are in the habit of doing”

This passage may be one of the most memorized in scripture, at least among people I grew up listening to. It is whipped out like a hammer after a loose nail every time someone isn’t seen at the church building on a Sunday or Wednesday. “Don’t forsake the assembly!” is our usual misquote, with a capital A.

As the people of the Roman empire absorbed the implications of the death and resurrection of Jesus, they experienced a change so great within themselves that they could not identify with the lives they had previously led. They had been empty and became full. They had been meaningless and suddenly had a great purpose. They craved contact with those who shared the unfathomable joy of that revolution, and so they spent every possible moment in each other’s company.

Most of them worked long hours for a meager existence, and many had little to call their own, but what that had they shared. They spent the evening meal in each other’s homes, no matter how plain or poor the surroundings or the food. They socialized with each other on market days in the town square. They gathered informally in public forums or synagogues to read the scrolls available to them and help each other discover the identity of faith.

These transformed people were not a corporation with designated hours to assemble for work. They were a family, and they fed each other’s faith through their shared joy and unrelenting enthusiasm. Unfortunately, as the change they experienced shook the world around them, maintaining such intimate relationship became more and more difficult. Suspected of political revolution, some were imprisoned or killed. Religious jealousy impacted livelihoods and threatened the health and safety of the faithful. Fear began to taint the longing for fellowship, and some began to avoid what they had craved in hopes of escaping notice. The resulting loneliness only exacerbated their fears, putting faith itself in jeopardy.

The writer of the letter to some of the formerly Jewish Christians addresses this problem directly. He reminded them that they had entered a sacred space by becoming a part of God’s family. This sanctuary of the faithful was their protection against the hopelessness around them, the hopelessness and fear that caused others to torment them. If they abandoned that family relationship they became again what they had been before, and the conviction that had been safety within would become doom without.

As millennia have passed and some cultures have made the story of Jesus a familiar thing, we have forgotten the transformation that shook the entire world. Our familiarity has bred entitlement, arrogance, and indifference to the incredible gift our Savior bestowed. Rather than crave the company of like hearts, we relegate our contact to formal designated conferences, and suspiciously guard our inner selves from the knowledge of others. We are not family and our emotional ties are stunted because we either were never changed or drew back from the cost. We may show up when required without fail, but we have forsaken the assembly.

Hebrews 10:19–25 (CSB): Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have boldness to enter the sanctuary through the blood of Jesus— he has inaugurated for us a new and living way through the curtain (that is, through his flesh)— and since we have a great high priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed in pure water. Let us hold on to the confession of our hope without wavering, since he who promised is faithful. And let us consider one another in order to provoke love and good works, not neglecting to gather together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging each other, and all the more as you see the day approaching.

The Purpose of the Pattern

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When I was a child my grandmother made many of my clothes and taught me to use a pattern. If you have never sewed anything or seen a dress pattern, you might have the idea that it looks like the end result and that it contains all the details needed to produce carbon copy replicas. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

You see, patterns actually tell very little about the end product, and while some details are included and necessary, those details are few and far between. In order to create a garment that will shape and drape properly around a three dimensional human being, many smaller, odd shaped pieces must be fitted together. Some larger pieces must be folded and sewn into even more odd shapes. The size of some pieces must change depending upon the size and shape of the person who will wear the garment. The pattern contains marks to ensure correct joining, measurements for correct adjustments, and marks for sufficient seam width for the garment to hold together. These marks are often not labeled with language, however, and the person using the pattern must learn which ones are which and how to apply them.

The pattern itself cannot become a finished garment. Its purpose is to be applied to fabric with the appropriate markings for the individual transferred to that fabric, which will in turn be sewn together into the shape of the wearer. A pattern can be applied to any fabric, usually one reflecting the personality of the wearer. Different types of fabrics require different treatments; finer fabrics are more fragile, thicker fabrics can only be combined in certain ways, and still others stretch or slip easily so must be cut with great care to preserve the correct shape. The placement of designs within the fabric must be considered when a pattern is placed; the direction of the fabric weave must be carefully considered to avoid misshapen garments. Thread colors, trim styles, even fastener types can all be personalized to the needs or preferences of the wearer. The pattern itself doesn’t command any of this; the person using the pattern must take time to learn each person and each fabric before attempting to make the garment required.

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If the same pattern is used to make garments for three individual people, each of those three garments will also be individual. They will be similar, the same recognizable garment, but one might have more space in the hips while another is slimmer in the shoulder. One may be made of sturdy material with a more sober design, while another may be flamboyantly colored silk. One may zip and have no trim, while another may fasten with buttons and be trimmed with elegant embroidery.

My grandmother also taught me that our lives are to be made according to a pattern, the pieces of which can be found in the stories and lessons of scripture. As a child, still learning the basics of sewing, I didn’t understand what that meant, but as my faith has grown I have learned what a beautiful gift our pattern is. You see, God as Creator understands the incredible uniqueness of each individual human. He understands that with that individuality of nature comes difference in application. The pattern He has provided is minimal, with marks for connection and adjustment that we must learn to read as we learn ourselves, the fabric upon which the pattern is to be applied. Just as a garment sewn for a large person would not fit properly on a small person, or a silk garment would be inappropriate for a manual laborer, applying rules based on one person’s needs or preferences to someone with completely different spiritual requirements cannot work.

We all have the same pattern we are to follow. We are all different types of fabric, designs, and trim styles. We each have the responsibility to know both the pattern and ourselves in order to become a finished garment pleasing to God who created both.

Opportunity and Prejudice

Recently I posted a series of questions on social media. I wanted, and received, feedback revealing how we as a society understand certain concepts that are central to a civilization. Need, work, and identity are necessary in order for a culture to thrive, but perception of what constitutes those things varies widely. When those varying perceptions clash in a battle of wills, a civilization teeters on the brink of collapse. Differences of opinion don’t have to be a death knell, however; if considered carefully without prejudice, they can become a stronger, more stable framework that incorporates every possibility.

As evidenced by many of the answers given, we often get stuck in one pattern of thinking, a pattern that applied to a particular society with particular tools at a particular time. We look back with disdain on past eras, talk with pride about progress, celebrate increased opportunity for prosperity, while at the same time treating everything that led to our current situation with contempt. New ideas, different opportunities, can’t be good ones because our grandparents didn’t have them. New tools must be luxuries because our grandparents didn’t need them. Little consideration is given to how new ideas, new opportunities, and new tools changed the civilization in which we live.

As little as a hundred years ago, the automobile was unaffordable by all but the wealthiest. Roads were narrow and unpaved, traveled by pedestrians or horse-drawn vehicles. Some of the bigger cities might have the convenience of streetcars or elevated trains, and long distance travel relied on the railroads, but even those were recent developments. Communities were smaller and more self-sufficient; schools were smaller, with their primary focus teaching basic literacy skills, as children entered the workforce early to contribute to the family’s support. The children were educated in the factories, the fields, the construction sites, or if they were very lucky, behind the counter of a store. The arts were expensive pursuits that the common citizen could not afford to pursue and that the wealthy, although they enjoyed the entertainment gleaned from artistic production, considered demeaning. The wealthy, focused on increasing their wealth and status, pursued a classical higher education and built careers in business or politics. Information about the world outside one’s immediate community was limited to rumors or newspapers, and arrived slowly if at all. Telephones existed but were expensive and often communal.

Now, a century forward, our nation would be unrecognizable to the people of the past. Not only are automobiles so common that roads, communities, and cities are built around access by car, but the train has been made obsolete by air travel, a possibility barely even imagined at that time. Schools are not only available to the average citizen, but require attendance of every child under a certain age. Not only does every citizen have access to higher education, but lack of a college degree has become a barrier to employment or advancement. Not only are telephones common, but the invention and development of computer technology has turned phones into handheld instant access to information and long distance communication. Improvements in transportation and communication opened up the world beyond the community, allowing the average citizen access to opportunities impossible in small communities. Family businesses can now become large corporations with worldwide customer bases in a relatively short amount of time thanks to the ability to network and market via the internet. Creative pursuits are now not only possible for the average citizen but often extremely profitable, even independent of established circles.

The world has changed, and with it the definitions of concepts. Bare subsistence by the definitions of a hundred years ago is now considered a moral standard to be achieved, as if barely avoiding starvation and exposure in a world of plenty makes one virtuous. The opportunity of exercising one’s God created individuality by using one’s God-given abilities to support oneself has expanded the definition of work and jobs, yet we cling to the outdated insistence that only doing manual labor in the employment of another is “real work.” Intellectual pursuits, although glorified in the form of insistence on college attendance, are still despised as leaching off of the “real workers” of the world. Those same opportunities only exist using the great connective powers of modern technology, making technology a necessity in our culture, yet we call it a luxury and religiously advocate to prevent the pursuit of our God-created identities.

A hundred years ago these opportunities did not exist. People didn’t have a choice. The average able-bodied citizen was forced to ignore and repress individuality in order to survive. Life was hard and the people who endured it often equally so. Those who possessed physical or mental disabilities couldn’t conceive of even the limited opportunities available to the able-bodied and able-minded. Most were institutionalized, tortured with experimental treatments for conditions that no one understood, and often died young. Some few with undeniable gifts in the arts found patrons who allowed them a semblance of a normal life, but even they were often ostracized by society for “scandalous” behavior and ended up self-destructing. Their lives held no value to other humans because as far as society was concerned they could not contribute a fair share.

In our age of information, understanding, and opportunity, attitudes haven’t changed. Oh, we talk a good game, but we still insist that everyone meet the same standards, perform the same work in the same way, rise to the same challenges, produce the same outcomes. In an age where individuality is so obvious and tools are so readily available, we despise differences and try to force uniformity. In an age of plenty, we try to force poverty. In an age of information, we try to force ignorance. In an age of opportunity, we try to force disadvantage.

In this incredible time and place, we have the greatest of opportunities. We can choose to value every life, every contribution, every ability, every effort, and every challenge without prejudice. We can support the intellectual and the manual laborer with equal respect to the different types of effort required. We can accept the vast amount of time and skill required to produce an artistic endeavor and take time to enjoy the result with respect that the artist cared to bring joy into our lives in the form of entertainment. We can provide relief for our loved ones who suffer from visible or invisible differences in ability, and ensure them the opportunity to contribute in their own equally valuable way. We can recognize that need is as individual as individuals, and support each other without disdain or dismissal. We can break away from conformity made unnecessary by opportunity, and choose to celebrate the designed individuality of every member of God’s creation.

Shepherd Authority

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The word “authority” is often brought up in certain religious circles, usually in context of arguing whether or not something is allowed or spiritually “legal.” Certainly the word is used prolifically in scripture, but when speaking of God’s authority over man, the Bible paints quite a special picture.

God is most often envisioned as a shepherd and humans as sheep. The shepherd has total authority over the flock, but he does not rule them with laws. Something far deeper and more abiding holds the sheep under his will, and it begins at the birth of a lamb.

A shepherd’s life is bound to his flock; he must keep eyes on every sheep at all hours, and know everything that happens among them, no matter how large the flock. When a lamb is born, he is there to warm it, ensure the mother feeds it, and guard against the predators that lurk for the one minute his back might turn. He cradles the lamb in his arms, whispering to it and carrying it to a safer place. The shepherd’s voice is known as soon as the ewe’s, and is immediately associated with comfort and safety. If the ewe rejects a lamb, the shepherd feeds it himself, adding recognition of the shepherd as the source of life.

Such a beginning establishes both a father’s affection and intimate knowledge of the lamb in the shepherd, and unbreakable trust of the shepherd in the lamb. This trust and affection mean that for the rest of its life the sheep will do anything for the shepherd, and the shepherd will do anything for the sheep. If the shepherd calls, the sheep will run to him immediately; he is the source of everything good in her life, and she wants whatever he has to offer. If the sheep becomes ill or injured, or is separated from the flock by distraction or hunting predators, the shepherd can instantly sense that something is wrong and will quickly find the sheep to fix the problem.

There is no need for the shepherd to beat or threaten the sheep; in fact, such treatment would only confuse and frighten the sheep. There are no rules or laws to be enforced, no “command structure” to keep organized. Sheep operate on instinct and have no need of such things. They follow the shepherd because he feeds them, protects them, heals them, rescues them. They follow wherever he calls, stop wherever he rests, eat whatever he provides, simply because he loves them and they trust him. They are connected to the shepherd as surely as if they were part of him, and cannot conceive of life without him.

This is the authority of God for His people. We allow Him to provide for us, to lead us, to protect us, because He loves us and we trust Him. When we struggle, we call for Him; when our souls are threatened, we run toward Him. When He calls, it doesn’t matter what we think or want; what He offers is better and we rush to receive it. He loves us with incomprehensible love, and knows every part of us even more deeply than we know ourselves. There is no need for laws or command structures, no possibility of quibbling over legalities. We are connected to Him, part of Him, and cannot exist otherwise.

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Different Holes

Most babies and toddlers are given toys involving various shapes that fit in specific holes. The purpose, of course, is to develop the reasoning skills to match like items. Usually young children are fascinated by this physical, concrete challenge and will try and try again until they master the toy.

Unfortunately, we do not often carry that same enthusiasm over to the more abstract challenges of human personalities and traits. We attempt to press all into the same hole, regardless of what shape each individual may take. Any sharp corners, any odd protrusions, are labeled with ominous sounding letters and either bullied or medicated into invisibility.

Our family happens to possess many such inconvenient differences, some shared and some unique to one or another. Those traits have exerted prominent influences on everyday life recently, causing enough difficulty that we have had to call attention to certain differences in efforts to overcome. A few days ago I overheard my children at the lunch table discussing their differences. “I’m OCD.” “I’m ADHD.” I’m Anxiety.”

Although it’s hard to avoid absorbing some of that attitude from society in general, we as a family do not approach differences in that way. We took the time that day to redirect our thinking. These letters are not who we are, they merely describe a small part of ourselves, a part that makes us unique. Because those corners don’t fit in the prescribed hole, others see them as weaknesses to be eliminated. Instead, when we find the correctly fitting hole, those assumed weaknesses become great strengths. The perfect circles can’t fit into our holes anymore than we can fit into the circular hole. We possess something others do not and must learn to use our unique traits for their unique purposes. Only when all the shapes in the puzzle find their matching hole can the puzzle be complete. Only when each individual embraces and directs uniqueness into a fitting pursuit can a society function as a whole.

Window

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It was unique among the dwarf cities, his window. None of the nether people could understand why he had insisted upon its installation when he inherited the throne of Dor. It had cost him more deepsilver than the coffers could well support, and if Olor ever let leak his methods of obtaining the required amount he would be deposed by a unanimous council vote.

He didn’t regret it. If there was no other benefit, the advantage of throwing every dwarf ambassador off guard the moment they entered the throne room would have been worth it. Dwarves hated the open spaces of Above without the comfort of stone protecting their heads. Even the illusion of exposure made them nervous, and they could barely present their petitions and platitudes between glances at the moon rising behind them in the great glass arch.

He had come to Dor as an orphan and fought his way from nameless tunneler to respected aristocrat with his wits and ore fragments hidden in his beard during his shifts in the mines. He’d always been good at secrets, even bigger ones than the black market, and no one had ever caught him sneaking up the airshafts for a glimpse of the sky. And although many commented on his unusual height, no one ever guessed his deepest secret.

Born on the surface to a human mother, he had lived a strange life halfway Nether and Above. Torn between the comfort of the caves and the glory of the sky, he had never truly belonged with human children who swiftly outstripped him in height but remained children long after he gained full strength. When his mother died, he embraced his dwarf heritage and joined his father’s people. Only then did he realize that he would never belong. Power alone would allow him excuse to be different, and so power he took.

The Breath in His Nostrils

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Genesis 2:7 (CSB): Then the Lord God formed the man out of the dust from the ground and breathed the breath of life into his nostrils, and the man became a living being.

Since the garden, humanity has continually rejected our origin. We seek to exalt ourselves, worshipping our own ideas and creations in twisted self-absorption. Isaiah condemned physical Israel for this very thing.

Isaiah 2:7–9 (CSB): Their land is full of silver and gold,
and there is no limit to their treasures;
their land is full of horses,
and there is no limit to their chariots.
8 Their land is full of worthless idols;
they worship the work of their hands,
what their fingers have made.
9 So humanity is brought low,
and each person is humbled.

Did you notice that he said Israel was brought down through being full of their physical lives? By worshipping what they perceived as their own accomplishments? They were God’s nation, they wore His name for the world to see. They were chosen to be full of God Himself, but they had forgotten Him. Oh, they carried out the temple rituals, never missed a festival, and knew the law well enough to weaponize it against each other, but they had forgotten Him. They were full of themselves instead.

We live in a time when human propensity for self-worship is on blatant display. Humans arrogantly hold patents on God-created organisms and promote their own derivitive and inferior work as the answer to all problems. We divide into parties and subparties based on opinions we uphold as fact, and bash our fellow humans about the head with principles we refuse to actually embody.

Self-worship is to be expected from those who reject God openly, and God spent time in scripture rebuking them, but most often His scathing words were directed at His own chosen nation. Unfortunately, though His nation is no longer physical, those who claim His name haven’t really changed. We say we trust Him, we say we’re devoted to Him, but when it comes down to a choice we choose humanity’s creation and ideals over God’s.

Isaiah’s words to Israel about this behavior were poignent. Isaiah 2:22 (CSB): Put no more trust in a mere human,
who has only the breath in his nostrils.
What is he really worth?

Remember Genesis 2? All we have really is the breath in our nostrils, and that is His as well. His breath is the sole reason for our existence. We accomplish nothing. He created everything. Without Him, we are worthless piles of dust. With Him, we are simply the breath in His nostrils.

Tuned

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An old hymn from 1758 begins with the words: “O thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy praise.” These days we have all sorts of electronic gadgets and apps for instrument tuning, which takes some of the meaning out of the phrase. When I began taking music lessons, a few decades ago, I was given a simple tool called a tuning fork instead.

Instead of many notes, electronically replicated at the touch of a button, a tuning fork produces one. One clear, smooth, beautiful note from which all others can be discovered. Tuning requires much more work and a deeper understanding of music, but the process is actually quite simple. Strike the metal fork against a hard surface so that it vibrates with a perfect, pure, natural sound.

Similarly, God is the one note to which all others are tuned. There is nothing artificial about Him. Tuning our hearts to produce the same note requires work. Often it requires being struck again and again until we finally find the right note. Then when we have managed to match that first frequency, when the remaining cadence of our lives jars discordant against it, the even harder work begins to tune it all to a perfect scale from which the song of thanksgiving can be sung.

One day we will meet Him face to face, and all the voices of the faithful, tuned by trial, error, and dedication, will sing the new song of triumph and love.

The “Whatever It Is” Life

Yesterday my kids held their annual pumpkin carving session. Because buying a pumpkin for every family member in a household of seven puts something of a strain on the already holiday stretched budget, they team up. Boys get one pumpkin, girls get the other. As you can imagine, this is not a situation that leads to peace.

What pictures will we carve? Everyone has a different idea. Something scary! No, something silly. An elaborate design far too advanced for childish hands. Can’t we just use something from the book? And the squabbling begins. Who gets to carve which part? Who has to scoop out the seeds? Mom confiscates the knife and removes the stem herself to prevent accidental stabbings.

The results are… interesting. What is it? No one knows. No one cares. Destruction and creation went hand in hand, the dream come true of every kid. Whatever it is that was created, it is unique, holding a piece of each young participant in its creation.

Like life. There is no cookie cutter life. Each individual adds a piece of themselves to each day, a slice here, a scrape there. Sometimes the bits overlap, sometimes they fail to intersect at all. Sometimes the contributions seem to clash, making no sense together, because the contributors could not agree. Each wants a different design for life, and each sees a different outcome. The result cannot be identified with certainty, leaving an unbeautiful “whatever it is” to reveal the glow within its heart.

In the end it doesn’t matter. Despite the squabbling and the chaos, not one kid was disappointed with the end results. They couldn’t wait to light them up and show the world their delight. Our squabbles and our chaos bind us together, carving something out of this crazy “whatever it is” life we can only appreciate when we step away and let the light shine through.

Mr. Meanie

“I was yelling at Mr. Meanie! He just WON’T! LEAVE! ME! ALONE! I can’t do anything right anymore!”

The above came from my tearful, sobbing seven year old son. He had thrown his playthings and rushed to his room growling like a cornered tiger. To an outsider it might have looked like a temper tantrum, but tantrums are intentional and controlled. In that moment my son was helpless, trapped by his own mind and desperately screaming for help. This is the face of OCD.

My son is bright and beautiful. He can build anything he can imagine with Legos. He knows more than I ever realized existed about dinosaurs. He loves Godzilla and could probably provide sound effects for the movies with his imitation skills. He has a gift for finding the lonely and offering love. He adores his little sister and, though they fight like cats and dogs, will demolish anyone else who dares to offend her.

One tiny part of that beautiful little brain malformed. A section of neurological wiring has a short. Thoughts that feel like his but are not, unbidden and unwelcome feelings, and unwilled behaviors originate in that shorted out, alien knot. Chemical help can mute them to a whisper. Therapy can provide strategies for working around the shirt in the wiring. Nothing will ever make them go away. His whole life will be a battle with Mr. Meanie, the alien inside.

For now, we turn off the lights and snuggle on the bed, his head on my chest and his hand clutching my arm. Worship music plays from my phone, his choice, soft and soothing in its reminder of a love that bears his pain. He doesn’t fully understand it yet, but he can feel it, and his tension fades. We have quieted Mr. Meanie. For now.