The Violence of Bees

I'm running too fast. So, I decide to make it fun and throw myself down the hill—a perfect head first grass-stain. I slide right by her. She keeps running and throws herself on me, “Yeah!” she shouts. The mountains sing.

When I catches my breath, I runs, just fast enough, into some old friends and they talk about life and babies and church and the mountains—how beautiful they sing. The wedding party is detained with photos, so I sip lemonade, nibble cupcakes and continue to run into my past and present relationships. Quick nuanced discussions, the kind that corner and reveal.

I pile the family into the truck and drive home through the mountains—in the graying the mountains sing. The river echoes the round.

Beautiful Collisions

Shuffle, shuffle. Plunge the press. Coffee-hot, the morning soars. Hymns on the Airport Express usher me and the girls on to “the gathering,” to church—it is a celebration. The pastor speaks of Thomas, “My Lord, and my God!”

After the Body and the Blood, the congregation is dismissed. I wipe my eyes, turn to leave and collides into radiating faces—brothers and sisters united. The soundman runs into me and grabs my baby girl. “I just want to hold her. She is beautiful.” We smile together, he gets his fill and more collisions ensue.

Lunch is a lovely fiasco. Two families, six children, and a floor full of Teddy Grahams; the wait staff is patient as the girls scream and run. We adults raise our glasses and toast: “To the celebration!” Once home, we all nap long and hard. Somewhere in the distance, the mountains sing again.

The weekend emerged from the week and grabbed us by the throat. We loved and laughed, fought and cried, and passed through the other side shaped by it all—the run-ins, the discussions, the here, there, and everywhere. 

Eucharist Signature

When I am finally able to sit and reflect on it all, life doesn’t seem so grand—just full of tension.

But I think of the Eucharist, how it always seems to break me (and everyone) in half. How, on this past Sunday, it reminded me that grace and confession and love all coalesce in the person of Jesus—they are signatures of humanity made beautiful through the Divine. The immensity of Jesus’s sacrifice wells up and pours from my eyes. So much to take in.

From the Eucharist my thoughts land somewhere amid the Trinity. I thinks how God runs fast toward humankind, overwhelming everyone with his lavish love. God can’t help but love—I love that fact. And those loving fingerprints are everywhere—especially on my family and friends.

So Much Like Bees

We are social creatures. With our loved ones we dance through this life, though it most often looks like frantic running. And we lean into one another, pushing headfirst to see who will give. Then we fall in a heap mid tears and laughter and pain and joy. God created us this way and the mystery of the Eucharist completes the puzzle. We are only able to love because he first loved.

The bees in my back yard love the jasmine blossoms and blueberry buds. They hover, and then climb the popping plumage. They collide and swirl into each other high up into the maples. In a frenzied disappearing act, they abscond into the holly tree—a violent aerial display.

Are they fighting? Love making? Discussing? Laughing? Killing?

We are so much like bees, living the Gospel mystery of the Eucharist in the wild collisions of life. And we disappear into death and sex and work and play in a violent showing that rings out, like the mountain song. One another, one another, one another, “our fellowship of kindred minds … like to that above.”

*This post is an excerpt from my book Veneer: Living Deeply in a Surface Society  that I co-authored with my friend @jasonlocy. You can pick up a copy here. 

Freedom From The Inner Ring

You and I cannot escape the pull toward self-promotion. It invades each day through various mediums. And the very culture that tells us to hoist up our personal banners everywhere is the same culture that empowers us to act as our own judge and jury. It tells us that permissive behavior is the norm.

But though we cannot escape the cultural pull, we need not give in to it.

On Wednesday I wrote about the lost art of reflection. I discussed how, if we wait and reflect instead of reacting to situations, people and "news," we should find a most helpful friend: discernment. This friend draws a hard line, one our pride finds stark and uninviting.

Today, as we ready our hearts and minds for the coming Sunday gathering let's consider how we might join the practice of quiet reflection with true Christian freedom.

They seem opposed, restraining from reaction yet exercising freedom. But they are, in fact, kindred.

The Apostle Peter reminds his readers: “Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God. Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor (1 Peter 2:16–17 ESV).”

Christian freedom means we are free to follow God's will. We are, like Paul, slaves to the Gospel. As such we do not live as permissive agents of cheap grace and license.

Rather, we adhere to a specific code: every person is to be shown respect, our Christian brothers and sisters are to be loved, God is to be approached in reverent fear and our authorities are to be respected.

Actions Reveal Motives

It's easy to forget this Christian Code. In the pursuit to build leadership platforms, influence, personal brands, secure a raise, or position we pounce on opportunity.

I often see this in the world of blogs and writing. In the name of "being prophetic," or "holding some Christian leader accountable," or "just because I can" writers and talking heads wield their words as battle-axes. They scramble to be heard and seen and, of course, followed.

At some level we all of us desire to exist and be seen as a person of the inner circle of our chosen professions.

But why?

In his address titled "The Inner Ring" C.S. Lewis exhorts his listeners to beware of pursuing such an inner ring. Such a pursuit often demands character compromises. Because we desire exclusivity, to be "in the know," to be cool, to be accepted, to be viewed as exceptional, we disregard our Christian code. We offer convenient excuses for our selfish actions.

Lewis offers this bit of wisdom that I find helpful as a daily reminder (pardon its length):

The quest for the inner ring will break your hearts unless you break it. But if you break it, a surprising result will follow. If in your working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters.

You will be one of the sound craftsmen, and other sound craftsmen will know it. This group of craftsmen will by no means coincide with the Inner Ring or the Important People or the People in the Know.

But it will do those things which that profession exists to do and will in the long run be responsible for all the respect which that profession in fact enjoys and which the speeches and advertisements cannot maintain.

And if in your spare time you consort simply with the people you like, you will again find that you have come unawares to a real inside, that you are indeed sung and safe at the centre of something which, seen from without, would look exactly like an Inner Ring.

But the difference is that its secrecy is accidental, and its exclusiveness a by-product, and no one was led thither by the lure of the esoteric, for it is only four or five people who like one another meeting to do things they like. This is frienship.

If we set out each day to work, to hone our craft—whatever it may be—then we create a culture that cares little for the pull of self-promotion and permissive behavior. We, in fact, create a safe place where respect and love and reverence flourish.

We will find ourselves free in Christ, yet bound to the hard and beautiful words of his Gospel. We will find ourselves caring less for the Inner Ring and more for those we should be caring for anyway: our true friends.

Lord, grow us in your patience. Strengthen us as we strive to live in the freedom of your Way.