Shalom.

I don’t often think of myself as a particularly talented individual, at least not in the common sense of the word “talented.” I’m not a golf prodigy, expert pianist or published author. But recently I’ve come to realize that God has given me talents that require discovery and cultivation. For instance, I have a talent for Connectedness, or at least that’s what the StrengthsFinder test has indicated to me.

StrengthsFinder is a Gallup-generated online assessment that serves as a companion tool to the national bestseller StrengthsFinder 2.0 by Tom Rath. My talent for Connectedness means I “have faith in the links between all things.” As a Christian, this makes sense to me. The test results further indicate that I believe there is a reason behind everything, and that I think all creation and humankind are linked in some way. For me, that link clearly is God and his beautiful plan for creation – a link that has been broken.

Beyond my inherent belief that God has a reason for every event and that He is the thread weaving through creation, I also recognize that we have lost much of the Connectedness God originally intended for us. I think most people feel this loss in some way. They feel isolated, unloved and broken off from the Creator. They may not fully realize that their separation from God is where their grief, worry and lack of fulfillment stem from. But at their core, everyone has some sense that things are not as they should be. It only takes 10 minutes of watching the evening news to realize that something is wrong in our world – that the world has fallen away from its potential goodness, from the way things were meant to be.

In the Bible, the word “shalom” refers to the way things ought to be. We often translate this Hebrew word to mean “peace,” but shalom goes far beyond a state of tranquility or the mere absence of conflict. Shalom is what exists when the link between God, creation and humankind is restored. In his book Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin, Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. gives us a great definition of shalom as “the webbing together of God, humans, and all creation in justice, fulfillment, and delight.” With the Fall, however, shalom was lost to us and the linked web of creation fell apart.

Because of our sin, four main relationships have been fractured: our relationship with God, our relationship with others, our relationship with creation and our relationship with our own self. This brokenness manifests itself in a myriad of ways: depression, feeling disconnected from God, eating disorders, bickering, selfishness and the pollution of this earth.

But because He loves us and delights in us, God has provided a way for us to be restored into relationship with Him again. The wages of sin are death, destruction, isolation and separation from God (Romans 6:23). But by sending His son Jesus to die in our place, God paid all debts and paved a way for us to live a life connected to Him again. We now have the opportunity to experience the “universal flourishing, wholeness and delight” that God intended for us (Plantinga). God longs to welcome us into His kingdom of shalom, but we have to be willing to walk through the door.

When we look to God for direction, walk with Him daily, lean on His understanding – not our own (Proverbs 3:5-6) – and delight in His plans for us and all of creation, then we can begin to experience the beauty of shalom again. God is calling us to become agents of shalom, models of shalom and witnesses to shalom. But how do we live that out in our daily lives?

That’s the question I hope to explore in my writing. I want to delve further into what shalom looks like, how God wants to restore those four fractured relationships and how we can spread the message of shalom, drawing others into His kingdom. Shalom should affect the use of our time and money and alter the rhythm of our lives. And ultimately, the church should be the central example of shalom on this earth.

I’m leaning on God’s word for direction and also looking to inspired authors like Plantinga for help interpreting God’s intended glory for this world. I don’t claim to have all the answers, nor do I expect that everyone will agree with everything I write. So I encourage you to send me your questions, offer your suggestions and share your experiences. For it is only in community that shalom can truly grow

Good Medicine for 2014

A couple weeks back, while walking through a bookstore with a friend, he pointed out a poem posted on one of the shelves, slightly hidden among the cookbooks, graphic novels and rare editions of the classics. It’s a poem I’ve heard before, one by Charles Bukowski called so you want to be a writer? In his words:

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don’t do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your

typewriter

searching for words,

don’t do it…

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don’t do it.

I agree with Bukowski to an extent. As a writer, words often come bursting out of me, demanding to be written down before they give me a stomachache with the intensity of their force. But Bukowski seems to downplay the work that goes into forming words into intelligible thoughts, into shaping stories so that they encourage others and spread truth rather than just being a self-serving, jumbled mess of words on a page. That’s no help to anyone.

Instead, sitting down to write takes work. It can be a daunting process in that it’s hard to know where to begin sometimes. For me, thoughts and memories float around my head like dandelion spores blown about in the wind. I try to grasp at them, pin them down, and put them in an order that makes sense. Like so many molecules of sound, these thoughts bang against the walls of my brain. They are shouts and whispers clamoring for attention, each vying for the top spot, and I have to work through the process of ranking them, attempting to organize them through keystrokes and mouse clicks.

There’s also the tendency to get distracted while I write– mostly by myself and my surroundings. Even as I’m writing now, I lost focus for a few minutes, pulled out of my train of thought by a fly buzzing around my room and then by a hang nail that I started chewing on with a complete lack of self-control, like a child picking at a scab. But then my thoughts came rushing back in, forcing me to be grounded here in the present moment, curled up on my bed in a little patch of sun. I’m trying to take advantage of the warm sunlight streaming through my window. It keeps coming and going, occasionally obscured by the clouds quickly rolling in from the bay, but mostly the sun is really making an appearance today. And in my neighborhood – and in this city, in general– that is a gift that I readily receive.

The process of writing is a gift for me, too. I enjoy it, and, as is the case with most good things, writing can take effort. Occasionally, I find value in just sitting down to write without knowing where I’m going. The words take me there eventually, and that’s somewhat the point for me anyways. In writing, my jumbled thoughts and hazy memories take shape and become clearer. Words help put structure around otherwise unformed truths.

So that’s where I’m at right now, trying to determine where to begin, not quite certain where to start my story. After all, like every one’s story, mine’s nowhere near finished yet. But it’s not my story to write anyway – it’s God’s – so I’ll begin where He tells us to begin: with joy and thanks.

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.(1Thessalonians 5:16-18)

What I’ve learned most in the past two years has been the simple, but extremely transformative truth of God’s goodness. He has brought me joy and contentment by revealing himself to me in the fun things (like becoming a high school leader at VBC) and the hard things (like my seemingly never ending immigration fiasco). As Dallas Willard puts it in his amazingly powerful book The Good and Beautiful God, I have “fallen in love with the God Jesus knows.” In getting to know God’s character more, I’ve started learning the “secret of being content in any and every situation” that Paul talks about in his letter to the Philippians: thankfulness.

That’s not to say that I’m always successful in the endeavor to be joyful in every situation, but the more time I spend with God, the more I can see him faithfully transforming me to be more like his Son, and that’s what gives me the ability to be grateful in all my circumstances: single or attached, living at home with my parents or with my sister in our apartment, five pounds up or five pounds down, succeeding at school or feeling pressed on all sides. Knowing God more for who He is (loving, good, faithful, strong) helps put me at ease and frees me up to give thanks for all that He’s done – most obviously and most importantly for the gift of His Son, which allows me to be in this supremely satisfying relationship with Him.

Next week I’ll write more about what God has been teaching me about giving thanks and making a joyful noise and how choosing joy has the power to change us – even when our circumstances stay the same. For now, I’ll leave you with this truth that God has been speaking to me lately:

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. (Proverbs 17:22)

I’m praying that God would give you and I a dose of good medicine this week. Let me know what you’re thankful for – or what you’re not! – so that I know more specifically how to have you on my hopefully cheerful heart.