Is there no balm in Gilead?

There is a question that I keep coming back to. Is there balm in Gilead? The question comes from the ancient Hebrew prophet, Jeremiah, sometimes known as the "weeping prophet." In chapter 8 of the book that bares his name he says,

"Since my people are crushed, 
    I am crushed;
I mourn, and horror grips me.
Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?
Why then is there no healing
   for the wound of my people?"

I ask the question because I really want to know. Is there a path to healing? Is there a road to redemption? In the middle of not meeting expectations, is there a way forward, or is there just a "well, you should have known better." 

From Washington, to Syria, to Cypress Hills, to my church, to my family, -- the world feels like it is full of open wounds. I am guessing you have some wounds of your own, and do you ever find that your efforts to right the wrongs only cause more wrongs? Trying to fix  things often makes things worse.  You try to have that critical conversation, but it goes bad. Is there truly any balm in Gilead?  Is there no physician here? 

As any good Christian, I can give you the right answer. I can quote the four laws or some rote prayer about justification and sanctification, but at times it doesn't compute. It sounds like the same "try harder" message.  Throughout my adult life I have often felt like a sharecropper sitting in the decrepit, "for coloreds only" section of a pristine Southern Baptist church in the 1880's. The theological words about Jesus don't add up. Regardless of what you say, I am pretty sure that if the White, American Jesus you are talking about showed up here he wouldn't like me.   

Often the wound is denied or covered with superficial words.  Earlier in the same chapter, Jeremiah writes,

"They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious.
'Peace, peace,' they say, when there is no peace."

What we need is not just more nice words or positive thoughts.  What I long for is true salve for the wounds of me and my people.  The world seems to be run by "eye for an eye" folk.  I am afraid as the saying goes, "soon we will all be blind." It happened again yesterday at work.  I was trying to facilitate reconciliation between staff on an issue.  One said, "Well, when you act right, I will act right."  This is not balm that we need.

Gilead was in Israel. "God's people" lived there. It was the holy land, a politically weak nation for most of its history but a place that was suppose to be a "blessing to all nations."  Soon after Jeremiah wrote those words, the land was conquered.  The people were taken to a foreign land.  One of them was a promising young man named Daniel.  He was neutered and forced to serve a pagan king all his life. In his elderly years, he was faced with one last test, a death threat actually.  Would he face Jerusalem and pray out of his open window or would he hide and live?  He chose to pray.

It struck me that Gilead as he knew it didn't exist by that time. If he was asked, "Is there balm in Gilead?" I think he would have said, "There is no Gilead. There is no temple, there are no priests, there is no country, but . . . there is a balm, so I will still pray." 

We think people and institutions should persist. When you are a child, you think your parents will last forever.  You expect your church to stay the same. You expect your friends to remain. You expect that people you look up to continue to live up to those expectations.  You expect your house to still be there when you get home. You expect your job to last. On this fourth of July, I think many of us expect America to last indefinitely.  It won't. 

This last week one of my favorite "institutions" crumbled.  What I thought was an invincible fortress -- gone.  

Through the tears, while I was sifting among the ashes, I heard a still small voice, clear and unshakable.  It was the kind of voice that speaks words that are truer than everything you see and touch. It said, 

"There is no more Gilead, but, yes, there is a balm."

Here's a video of a song I like on this theme.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fcMxI_6xsk

What is wrong with the world?

I used to think the world, the flesh, and the Devil were more or less synonyms. I used to think all the dimensions of evil could be captured in one photo of a Las Vegas crime scene.  You have the scantily clad ladies, the casino owner with a big cigar, and a couple of pimps in the shadows.  There you have it. That's evil.

This view of evil is clear. It is also convenient because all you have to do to avoid evil is stay off the strip.  One simple rule fixes it all.

But the other day I was thinking about an old cliche I used to hear in sermons, "the world as referenced in the Bible is the world system."  That never made much sense to me.  What exactly is the world system?  Is it the Vegas strip or is it something far more subtle?

For the last thirteen years, I have spent my life deep in the world system. My profession and the profession of my closest associates is to look deeply at the problems in the world and try to fix them. Solutions are offered that involve politics, business, churches, neighbors, anyone at all. We try to pull it all together and make the "system better."  So what is this world system that is so bad?

This is what I see.  Everyone trying to make rules for other people, so things can be better.  We call it a lot of other things -- clear expectations, best practices, protocol, policies and procedures, and they are all so good but they are often built on the core worldly notion that there is clear cause and effect, and I can reduce what is expected of me to simple behaviors that I can achieve. If I can just get everyone else to follow, things will be better  --and I will consequently be on top because I picked rules I can follow.

It happens in subtle ways.  Every time I go to Manhattan to one of the city or state offices, I hear some semi-frustrated Quality Assurance Officer say, "I need you to tell your staff to get me a copy of Form 2393439 on time! It will make your program better." Hmmm

Whenever there is a crisis -- like a shooting or robbery, I hear the chorus of protocol lovers.  We need to have more policies and procedures.  There certainly is a place for preparation and clarity, but what I really sense is that we want a system of rules that will save us.  Last week a 15 year old came with a loaded gun to one of my sights where we have English classes.  Fortunately, no one was hurt, but it wasn't the policy and procedure manual that saved us that day.  It was good people doing good things -- compassion mixed with courage.

I used to hear it preached that the world is lawless, but I see quite the opposite.  The world system is brimming full of laws. Everyone's got an expectation for everyone else. There is a rule or policy for everything, and everyone is slightly frustrated that others won't listen.  It is morphing into a giant, global murmur of "should's"

At work, we are trying to make Fulton St. a more inviting beautiful place to be.  Some of the merchants purchased beautiful new awnings and signs.  They were promptly fined by the city and forced to take them down because they did not have the proper permit and somehow did not meet the specifications.  The sign can't hang over the sidewalk more than 4 feet!  Apparently, 5 feet would create a safety hazard (eye rolling).

The tactic is not new.  Job's friends were men of the world system.  If you do X, then Y will happen.  Period. So stop doing X, Job, that's all there is to it. God provides an air-tight system of rules and rewards.  Sowing and reaping is all there is to it. What a convenient world view.

This view is very useful and seductive because it is partly true.  With the cause and effect world view, you can do a lot of things.

You can put people in their place.
You can clearly identify who is in and who is out.  
You can make the world more predictable.
You can blame the victim for their own problems. (i.e. people begging are lazy)
You can blame the victim for your own problems.  Like my neighbor who won't let his kids play with Spanish kids.

If life runs on a clear cause and effect rubric, a system of levers and buttons, you can be in control.
You don't have to be dependent on anyone else's good graces.
You can get what you deserve.
You can be sure of a good outcome.
You can be successful.
No need to be poor in spirit, meek, mournful, or hungry.  All you need is discipline and clear commitment to the cause and effect principles in God's Word.  You can be in the driver seat of your own faith. 

You can also make yourself feel like you are actually fixing things -- like you are bringing much needed law and order.  We even call Job's friends "comforters."

Job instead cries out for a mediator to plead his case in the heavenlies.  Isaiah pleads that God would rend the heavens and come down. The Israelites gratefully looked to the serpant on a pole.  Salvation doesn't come from protocol. 

"In repentance and rest is your salvation" (Isaiah 30:15).

"So God did what the law could not do. He sent his own Son in a body like the bodies we sinners have. And in that body God declared an end to sin's control over us by giving his Son as a sacrifice for our sins." (Romans 8:3b) NLT

What is that ache inside? What do I really, really want?

Today I had an ache. It was a little whisper actually that felt like it was coming from deep inside somewhere.   Because I had no other distractions -- my phone was charging and I wasn't at work -- I stopped and listened to the ache for a minute.

The more I listened, the more I recognized it.  I had felt this before. It is the ache for home.

What is it about the longing for home that feels so essential, so primal?  It's as if the very DNA of my heart was reaching out for its resting place, like the urge in the Pacific Salmon that swim upstream hundreds of miles to find the place they were born.

What is this home that I longed for today?

It might be just the family and place of my birth, but I don't think that quite captures it. It is more than a place or even people.  It is a feeling.  We say that we "feel at home," so what is that feeling?  If I could describe the feeling, perhaps I could find my way there.  Perhaps you could too.

Home is . . .

. . . where you are understood.  You don't have to publish a paper and site references to get your point across at home.  Sometimes you don't have to say anything at all.  People just know, and they get you -- or they are at least ok with not getting you.

. . . where you are safe.  You kind of know what is going to happen most of the time, and it is not going to hurt you.  Life is a bit more predictable at home. A horn isn't going to start blaring behind you for some unknown reason.

. . . where you can feel things.  It takes a certain environment to move from the frantic focus on actions to actually notice what you feel and what others feel.  When you feel at home, you can feel.

. . . where you can be creative.  Earlier today we celebrated my son Liam's birthday.  He had a perfect Liam day. One good friend, good food, lots of jumping and sunshine, a relaxed father, and of course creativity emerged.  I found him at the end of the day building something outside with his friend. I think this is true for men as well.  Just ask to look at a man cave, you will see come creativity.

. . . where work becomes play.  I don't have to tell my son to play with legos.  I don't have to tell him to build an amazing rocket ship that looks like a dinosaur.  He "works" for hours not because he has to but because it is his.  That's kind of the way I feel on a Saturday around the house.  I don't feel that way around your house.  Something happened when I signed on those closing papers 7 years ago.  My life savings went into 108 Jerome St, and now I just love to tinker with it.  Sure there are times when home management becomes work, but that is just part of the cycle.  I didn't exactly enjoy putting my hand in a sewer pipe last Saturday, but, oh, the joy I felt after the pipe was fixed and the toilet was reinstalled and everything was all cleaned up.  I think it rivaled Trump's fabled golden toilet!  Work is deeply satisfying at home.

. . . where you have choices.  Should I read a book or get on Facebook?  Should I eat some celery or stuff myself with Oreos?  Should I stay in my work clothes or get into jammies?  There are abundant choices at home.

. . . where you have a role to play.  At home, I am not just an anonymous worker.  I am dad, husband.  I do the finances and make pancakes on Saturday mornings -- and fix sewer pipes from time to time. I have a place that matters to those around me.

. . . where you have a history.  There are memories, lots of memories. Yesterday, Logan said, "Remember when we first moved to this house and we thought it was so cool to jump off the porch railing onto the porch?"

I am sure the list could go on. Home is a lot of things, but the picture is emerging for me.  Home is a kaleidoscope of nuanced features and feelings that can be elusive.   Funny how I look for home in lots of places.  I find it -- sort of -- so I keep going back to certain places.  I found a bit of it last night on the biking trail. I found it this morning in Linda's smile over coffee.  I find quite a bit of it at work. But home is hard to find, even when you go to the place you call "home." How many of us have traveled many miles back to the place of our birth in expectation of this feeling of home only to have the roast burn and Uncle Fred pontificate about politics ad nauseum?

Maybe it's hard to find home because it doesn't quite exist anymore.  Maybe the home I ache for is the Garden of Eden.  Come to think of it, my list here matches Eden pretty well.  In Eden there was a job to do, options, creativity, safety, relationship -- it was all there.   Maybe I am longing for Eden after all.

At the start of the new year, I began a new practice of spending time in dark silence each morning. The coffee is warm and the family is fast asleep.  The first wisps of morning are appearing in the eastern sky.  I ask God the same question every morning, "What do you think of me?  Am I ok?"   What I have really been asking is, "Can I be at home here with you?"  Its been a hard question to ask. Waiting in silence for the answer is harder still, but I have been hearing answers.

I think it is the first step toward home.

Why is love hard?

I will never forget the time I sat in a group of a dozen or so church-going men.  I asked the question, "How many of you have trouble experiencing the love of God?"  Nearly all the hands went up.

Ironic. I thought the love of God is the easy part of the Gospel. Obedience, self-discipline, I thought these are the really hard things.

I wonder if maybe the love part is the hard part.

Look at a loved person, someone fully overwhelmed with love -- the fiancé moments after a marriage proposal, a child wrapped in towels after bath time.

What do these people have in common? 

No self-consciousness, no strategy, no sense of their own accomplishment. Love turns you to mush. 

I saw it happen in my life.  I don't give money to pan handlers in NYC.  I feel like I have a good understanding of the systems that create poverty, and passing out cash on the street is not the way I fight those systems.  But the other day, God met me on the West Side boardwalk.  I knew His love for a few seconds -- moments later I saw a pile of blankets on a park bench.  Something supernatural forced me to break with my routine.  I didn't know exactly what would come out from under the pile, but I was willing to stop and see.  When I am loved I am a different person.  That I know.

Love leads to vulnerability.

Religion on the other hand is our effort to avoid the vulnerabilities of life. Everything in me avoids love.  I want to be sure, first.  I want to have all my theology clear.  I want to be confident in my own obedience because God requires obedience.  To love is to keep His commands (John 15) right?  So what could be wrong with just following all the rules?

Love is also hard because I want to win. The social and political struggles in this country are real.  I don't really want to let down my guard.  I want to push for victory against the bad guys.

But what if there is something more important than victory?

Brennan Manning says that at the end of time the question God is really going to ask is "Did you believe that I loved you? And is your life a response to that love?"

I can't really say for sure if that is right, but something in my life tells me it is true.

So here is my New Year's resolution, to ". . . know and rely on the love God has for us." (I John 4:16b)