In Our Midst...

A couple of days ago, my little brother sent me a story that has continued to run through my mind for two days now.  I wanted to share it with you.  Here is the recap:

A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousand   of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

        Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

        A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

        A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work. 

        The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

        In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition. 

        No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

        Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats average $100.

         Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

As I read the story (the full story can be found here), I couldn't help but think about the neighborhood where I live.  You see, I don't ride a subway everyday, or commute on a bus.  I live in a suburban neighborhood and I drive a couple of miles to work each day.  After this, I wonder who and what I miss everyday because I have succumbed to the routine of the familiar.  I'm not wondering what celebrities I miss, but I am wondering what incredible person lives 5 houses down from me.  I only know 4 down.  Am I missing a great friend or an inspirational father!  What about the person checking out groceries at the Kroger by my house?  Is she a student working her way through school planning to do mission work overseas?  

This is one of the reasons why we are more committed to being the church than going to church.  There are incredible people living next door to us, working in the cubicle over from us, sitting in the bleachers with us, pumping gas on the other side from us and we miss them everyday.  I want to live with my eyes open.  I want to stop and listen to the music of life being played out in that cashier's world.  I want to stand in awe of that dad who is swinging his kid at the park.  I want to notice.

Finishing

Those of you that read books often, understand the value of finishing.  You know that incredible feeling we have when we turn that last page of the last chapter and close the book with an accompanying sigh, signifying the completion of something worth completing.  As of this morning, I have gotten to experience that feeling twice in the past 12 hours.

Last night, Garin and I worked our way through the final three chapters of Prince Caspian.  We celebrated with High King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy as they...well, I'll not say here, just in case any of you plan on reading the book or seeing the movie.  Let's just say, Garin and I got to talk about Jesus' returning and throwing a party when he does!

Then this morning, I wrapped up Eat This Book.  I had indicated that I probably wouldn't post again on the book, but I think I probably have one more in me, but not this morning.  The last chapter of the book is called "The Message," and is the longest chapter of the book.  It could have been three different chapters, but I have to admit that I may have enjoyed it more than all the other chapters.  If you are one of the people who have gotten the book or are listening to the book, DON'T MISS CHAPTER NINE!

Anyway, I love that feeling of finishing.  I have read a lot of books, and finished most of them.  Every time I finish one, I have the same sense of satisfaction.  I love it.  It makes me think of other things that I want to finish well.  In this story, I finish chapters with the same satisfaction, since the final chapter won't be finished until I leave this world.  When I got married, I was satisfied that I finished the dating chapter of my life.  When we both finished college and graduate school, I was satisfied that I finished the school chapter.  When Garin was born, I was satisfied that I was finished with the DINK chapter.  When Garin started talking, I was satisfied that I finished the infant chapter (only to rediscover it again, six years later!).  I look forward to some chapters and not so much to others.  My chapters will include death and sickness, love and loss, hope and failure, but in the end all I want is to be satisfied at the end of every chapter...and I don't want to put the book down in the middle of any of them!

I love life.  I love being a man.  I love being a husband.  I love being a father to a daughter and a son.  I love being a pastor.  I love being an artist.  I love following Jesus - even if there are often more questions than answers.  This book is a good book, and I'm privileged to call it my book.

Eat This Book :: Contemplatio

The final movement in lectio divina is contemplation, which "means living the read/meditated, prayed text in the everyday, ordinary world." p. 109

Contemplation is one of those hard to understand words.  In our culture, it is typically reserved for those who have chosen some sort of monastic lifestyle in seclusion somewhere up in the mountains.  Sometimes that life sounds really appealing to me, but in the end I just don't think it is what Jesus intended for me.  While, historically, contemplation has rightly referred to such, it doesn't refer to only such lives.

Peterson has a deep longing to see that people not just read the text, not just read and meditate on the text, and not just read, meditate and pray through a text.  His drive is to see people carry their reading, meditation and prayer into their muscles and bones, into their oxygen-breathing lungs and blood-pumping heart.

For me, this is where the rubber hits the road, so to say.  If the Story, stops short of contemplation, then what good is it to me, and what good am I to the world or to God's causes in the world.  When we continue in this long enough, prayer by prayer, "we find ourselves living in a reality that is far larger, far lovelier, far better."  This is where I want to be in my relationship with the Holy Script.  I know that God is writing, what some of us call an upper story, while we continue to live and struggle in this lower story (the one we know all too well).  Contemplation allows me to participate/experience the greater Story that God is writing around me...and in me.

Kathleen Norris calls "The quotidian (daily) mysteries: laundry, liturgy and 'women's work.'"  She writes,

I have come to believe that the true mystics of the quotidian are not those who contemplate holiness in isolation, reaching godlike illumination in serene silence, but those who manage to find God in a life filled with noise, the demands of other people and relentless daily duties that can consume the self.  They may be young parents juggling child-rearing and making a living...If they are wise, they treasure the rare moments of solitude and silence that come their way, and use them not to escape, to distract themselves with television and the like.  Instead , they listen for a sign of God's presence and they open their hearts toward prayer.

Contemplation means living what we read - not wasting any of it and not hoarding any of it away.  A contemplative live is not some special life, but the Christian life - not more, not less, but lived.  

Unlike the first three movements of lectio divina, contemplation is not something we can just do.  It's more something that happens in us and to us.  As we humbly approach the Scriptures with prayer and intentionality, we beckon the Spirit of God to live out the words in our daily lives.  It is our response to what we have experienced in the first three movements.  I want to live the words on the pages.  I want to live in those words.

I believe this is the most crucial of the four movements.  This is where the Word of God transforms us into people of the Words.  We actually discover our part in the Story, rather than simply finding parts of the Story for us.  Intuitively, I find myself resonating with Peterson's explanation of this movement.  Something inside my heart aches for this, yet I fail often.  I guess you could call me, well all of us, failed contemplatives.  Nonetheless, there is a bent in me toward this living out the Story.  I want my failings to lead me to greater transformation into the man God has called me to be.

The last section of the Eat This Book, is dedicated to translation and the formation of Peterson's Message translation.  I'm not sure if I'll post anything on that section - it may just be a bonus if you went and got the book.  If this is the last post from the book, I hope you've enjoyed the "cliff's notes" version of my small journey.  I'd be interested in hearing if you liked the posts and if it would be worth our time doing this again sometime.