strong odors » Faith

The End of Joy is Grief

Troy — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 05:33:11 +0000

Illustration by Troy DeShano

Proverbs 14:13 - even in laughter, the heart is sad. and the end of joy is grief

At your family table this week there is one member who will eventually see all the others dead.

Not something we really like to think about, but deep inside we all know it is true.

The end of all joy is grief.

I’ve heard that we’re an accident

and when we’re dead we’re gone

If that’s true then what’s the point of living at all?

Meaningless, it’s all meaningless

King Solomon said that

We hang on to life for dear life

Horcruxes and all

But if death just might be something more

Then I may not have to fear it

and life is something too

So I live like I’m dyin

instead of tryin to defeat it

That’s been done

Death ain’t my master

it’s the next great adventure

Dumbledore said that

*Majority of this post inspired by and/or plagiarized from Tim Keller’s sermon “The Wounded Spirit” — except the illustration is stolen from Norm Rockwell of course.

It is Finished

Troy — Fri, 11 Nov 2011 19:40:57 +0000

Design by Jim LePage

Abaout a year ago I interviewed and featured Jim LePage and his Word Designs project – his unique and modern illustrated poster series of the 66 books of the Bible. Since then we’ve become pretty great friends (what’s the “guy love” equivalent of online dating?)

Today he posted the very last of his series of 91 total prints.

Revelation

Please take time to see the entire series on his site and if you do not own one of these for your home (or the entire set for your church) then today is a great day to remedy that problem. Check the Revelation post to see how to take advantage of a sale going on right now – or how to win a free print of your own.

Proud of you Jim for sticking to it man.

Elisha the Troubled Superhero

Troy — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 20:30:02 +0000

Illustration by Troy DeShano

I’m not sure what happened in Elisha’s life that lead to his role as possibly the most troubled of prophets.

Maybe it was abusive parents or no parents at all.. maybe that’s how he ended up with his master Elijah in the first place.

Maybe he grew up devoted to religion and watched his family exploited because of their commitment to Yahweh..

Perhaps he just grew sick and tired of witnessing Elijah working so hard to turn back the kings to God.. only to be consistently threatened and exiled.

Elisha’s not going to waste his time casting his proverbial pearls before swine… so he’s quick to send man-eating bears and hurl lightning bolts on any approaching mobs.

Whatever it is, it’s easy to imagine him sitting in his stereotypical holy-man position atop the mountain. Only as the soldiers draw near he knows they’re not seeking wisdom. So why bother humoring them?

Zap.

Lightninged.

I can’t say I understand the violence of the Old Testament… but what I do love is a prophet with problems.

Because I can relate to a guy like that, you know?

I may not be zapping people.. but to say I have intimacy problems would be a bit of an understatement. I’m happier just sitting on my favorite summit hoping no one comes close enough that I have to lightning them… and I may not be siccing my bears on the town children… but I sure do mumble under my breath a lot when the neighbor kid mows the lawn at 8am on Saturday…

But what what challenges me about this Old Testament Hancock is that even though I may be considerably more tolerant than Elisha, I doubt I have his compassion.

In the midst of dissatisfaction we’re all sharing with Wall Street, would I be willing to offer healing to the most oppressive of executives? You know, the kind of guy getting fat by exploiting slave labor and blood diamonds? Would I even point him in the direction of the Jordan River?

And if I did, would I have the courage to say “don’t worry about it,” upon his offer of compensation?

Not bloody likely.

Elisha the Troubled Prophet is also available as a limited edition print. Get one today in my shop!

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I Swore I’d Never Be

Troy — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 14:47:20 +0000

Illustration by Troy DeShano

What’s the one thing you swore you’d never become?

Your mother?

“The Man?”

A corporate cog?

overprotective parent?

a fundamentalist? immutable?

deadbeat?

a leech?

an a-hole?

a Republican?

Well… how are you doing with that? From what I can tell many, many people swear in their youth that they’ll never be this-or-that… usually related to the negative character traits they see in their parents or harmful personal experiences they’ve had at the hands of another.

But I’d guess that in more cases than not, we (even against tooth and nail) almost always become that very thing.

Maybe it looks different… you may have sworn you’d never be a right-wing fundamentalist religious fanatic, but now are just as unbending and intolerant within your own personal dogma (even if at the other end of the spectrum).

“I’m right, you’re wrong, la la la la la I can’t hear you!” is still the same thing.

Maybe you saw your father as a workaholic or hot tempered or impatient or distant, but managed to find enough strength despite all that to say “that will never be me.” Until, of course you’ve got 4 kids and stuck working odd jobs 60 hours a week because you got laid off in 2009 like everyone else and you hate your work and you’re stressed out and tired and your kids ignore you just one time too many.

Or just prior to having your first baby you gave Shakespearean soliloquies on how you’ve forsaken the TV and cheeseburgers and replaced them with classical music and cloth diapers and flash cards…

LOL

I was reading the Old Testament the other day about the Israelites building the walls of Jericho.

Building the walls of Jericho??

I thought Joshua fit the battle, right? and the walls came a tumblin down?

Well they did.

And just following the victory Joshua made sure to spare one life — the prostitute Rahab since she’d lied — and then cast a curse upon the one who dares rebuild this fortress. He’d be certain to lose his oldest and youngest sons in the process.

In a handful of generations, the liberated slave nation went from the oppressed to the oppressors… to a monarchy (where the oppression came from within) to civil war and eventually a fragmented former-nation of idolatrous tribes with phallus poles on every corner, temple prostitutes (for worship, of course) and infant sacrifices (they wanted to be prosperous, after all).

At which point one particular king thought it’d make a heckuva lotta sense to rebuild that fortress in Jericho. (and of course christen it with the contractor Hiel’s firstborn sacrificed at the foundation and his youngest at the gate)

and there it is.

They’d become that very thing I’m sure as they wandered in from their 40 years in the wilderness everyone would have sworn they never would.

And so it often goes with us.

As the world wears us down until our skin is dry and callused and flakey we shed it to reveal what seems to be a fresh slimy (in a good way) layer of brilliant newness.

But with each passing layer we fail to notice that over time we’re not emerging as butterflies from the chrysalis, but just the same old serpent littering scales all over the place.

All of a sudden I am that guy. The one I would have bet my first-and-last-born in my youth that I’d never become.

(and all-too-often this revelation is followed by red convertibles and new trophy wives)

So what can you do? Is it possible to recommission your fight against the inevitable? Or is it possible to accept you’re that “thing” and make it better than you knew it could be?

What can you do?

The Real Tragedy of the World Trade Center

Troy — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 19:40:07 +0000

Illustration by Troy DeSahno

Sometimes even a poorly delivered message is still one worth hearing, and I wonder if the the saddest thing about the whole tragedy is that we didn’t get the message.

We like to think of ours as a nation made strong through the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness, but in reality we’re strong because of our unscathed ability to exploit, oppress, capitalize and conquer—all the while repressing any hint of remorse that might ever creep in (which I’m sure is slowly creating a collective psychological condition that will catch up with us when our nation hits mid-life).

It is those very national values to which these impassioned soldiers gave their lives opposing—hurling themselves and thousands others into the afterlife in a hail-mary attempt to send a message that would surely change me and you and our country and the entire western world.

I think it’d be redundant for me to say how wrong and awful and horrific and terrible their medium was.

Poorly delivered.

What I can’t stop thinking about today is that I have to admit that I’m not so different from them. The very mores of my own culture that they (and countless other fundamentalists around the world) despise are the same things that make me less than “proud to be an American.” I hate our misplaced, terrorizing commitment to the lie that we like to call “the American dream.”

So maybe I should do something big? To send a message to my brothers and sisters, my neighbors and countrymen? the world?

A Ha! Right there is the ever-so-fine line distinguishing my condition from these men… where they had been convinced through faith, philosophy and culture that the only way to get this message across was a monumental act of violence, I’ve been convinced through the very same influences that the only hope anyone will ever hear the truth is through monumental acts of peace.

So have we heard the message?

A few definitely have. You’ve seen it this past decade in young people and gen-x’ers and boomers and even octogenarians envigored with compassion for the weary, oppressed, fatherless and hopeless.

But as a whole… as a community, a nation.. I think the ringing in our ears left by the blast deafened us to what it was pleading.

We missed it.

When the foundations of these skyscrapers is now a “monument” of not one, but five new towers to prosperity?

Five new Asherah poles erected in all their phallic glory? America’s middle finger held high as a vertiable “eff you” to the rest of the world (or at least the parts to which we don’t owe money).

All the while we gather around them worshipping with orgies and infant sacrifices, praying to the gods for prosperity, prosperity, prosperity…

For in prosperity there is power. In power there is confidence. In confidence there is security. In security there is comfort.

And in comfort—we believe—we can finally achieve the pentultimate prize, the true American dream.

To die, fully reclined in our La-Z-Boy.

World Trade Center, limited edition giclee print is available in my shop.

If You Don’t Have It, Borrow It

Troy — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 12:04:00 +0000

Illustration by Troy DeShano

I was listening to Rob Bell speak today and I heard him say “If you don’t have it, borrow it from someone who does.”

So what are you lacking today?

hope? peace? guts? positivity? gumption? ideas? energy? vision? will power? patience? gratitude? perspective? compassion?

or maybe you just need a hand…

Find someone who’s got it and borrow.

Even if it is just standing next to her for a few minutes… you should be able to borrow enough in that time to get you through the day, and eventually you’ll get a great chance to loan some of whatever it is that you do have to someone else who needs it.

Eglon the Slightly Overweight

Troy — Mon, 09 May 2011 20:18:24 +0000

Illustration by Troy DeShano

Judges chapter three (in the Old Testament) specifically tells us that Eglon, King of Moab was “grossly fat.”

But in verse 20 of the chapter Eglon stands up.

He stands up?

Guess by good ol’ U.S. of A. standards he’d be described as “average” or “a little overweight.”

No “grossly fat” man in this great nation of ours would be able to stand up in the time it took Ehud to snatch the dagger from his right thigh with his left hand and plunge it permanently into Ehud’s belly.

Creation and the Cross

Troy — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 20:52:27 +0000

Illustration by Troy DeShano

Chances are that you won’t hear any mention of Earth Day at Good Friday service this afternoon. Unless of course your minister is the type that loves sarcasm and a collective eye-roll from the congregation.

I’ll spare you, my fine readers another rant about how evangelicals’ disdain for anything remotely reeking of environmentalism has little to do with theology, but is rather one more manifestation of political partisan baby-with-the-bathwater tossing.

Ok, so maybe I couldn’t quite spare you the entire rant—I tried, honestly…

Along with the tendency for evangelicals to religiously align with their favorite pundit is an unfortunate doctrine that has permeated Christianity for ages—that the physical universe is intrinsically evil and therefore shall all be destroyed in the end to make way for a strictly spiritual existence.

So you have these two messages that are so very strong that many of us can’t help but to accept them on some level— (a) that environmental consciousness makes you a baby-killing idolater and (b) that any attempt to “save” the earth is a lost cause because it’s destined for a lake o’ fire anyways.

But these are lies.

The idea that God cares only for the small part of creation that is us human beings is contradictory to what is clearly taught throughout the Bible, that God loves his creation. The end of this age isn’t the destruction of all things physical, but rather the reconciliation of the spiritual and physical.

And although we rarely consider it, the cross and creation are entwined.

Easter is about redemption.

Even in Genesis 3 we find the Proto-evangelium—orthodoxly considered the first messianic prophecy fulfilled in Christ’s death—as a prologue to a curse upon the earth. Death in all its forms begins here. In the midst of the snake being cursed and the man being cursed and the ground being cursed you find the very first words following Proto-evangelium is the woman’s curse of pain in childbirth.

Isn’t it interesting that Romans 8 describes the waiting creation as suffering the pangs of childbirth?

Against its will, all creation¹ was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.

Romans 8:19-22

John Calvin points out that it’s not the agony of death afflicting creation… but that of birth.² We along with all creation can look forward with “eager hope” because this mortal coil is just the beginning.

The cross is not merely about the redemption of the souls of man. It is also the redemption of all creation.

Perhaps the reason those of us that call ourselves Christian have such a difficult time accepting the connection of the creation to the cross is because like almost everything else in life we believe that Christ’s death is about us.

Ask anyone here in the U.S. raised in Sunday School (or currently in Sunday School), “why did Jesus die?” and you’ll pretty much always hear some variation of the same answer, “He died for us—for our sins so that we could go to heaven when we die.”

That’s it.

God and his infinite immutable plan got screwed over by humans. So he had to become one of us and die for us and go through all the hassle of being raised from the dead just to save our sorry asses.

End of story? Seriously?

I contend that the gospel is more than that. Even though my faith does lead me to an understanding that Jesus has rescued me and redeemed me and reconciled me into relationship with the creator God who does indeed love me…

It’s not all about me.

It’s about God.

Everything in the entire Biblical narrative, everything before that, everything since and everything yet to come is all about GOD. The whole universe; you and I; our fall and redemption; Christ’s death and resurrection; everything physical and metaphysical; fleshly and spiritual; mortal and immortal exists because of and in perpetual glory to the creator and cultivator of it all.

If I can even grasp that concept in the slightest way—for none of us can fully—I can begin to understand the connection between the earth and the cross.

It is the reconciliation by one of all that was broken by one other.

All of it.

Of course I have no idea what that means exactly—that all creation is redeemed—nobody really does.

But it seems to me that if part of God’s story is rescuing the physical world from death into new life, that I should probably care about it too.

Crash into the Anvil

Troy — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 17:04:45 +0000

illustration by Jeff Gill

A friend linked to this post tonight and it really seriously affected me.

A big part of why my illustrated autobiography got stuck for a six months is that I did not know how to write about my stillborn son. His name was Teifion Llewelyn Rhys Gill. Teifion is an uncommon Welsh name that means anvil. He died a couple days before his birthday. Please continue reading…

(via Jim LePage)

Publisher Describes Love Wins Aftermath

Troy — Sat, 26 Feb 2011 20:32:52 +0000

This promotional video released this week and folks are coming out of the woodworks to shout “heretic!”

People love to pick on Rob for sure… I guess you can’t really blame them. Many of my friends have already shared links to articles around the interwebs sharing this vid and making claims like “At least now we know what Rob Bell thinks about hell.”

Really??

You know what he believes from that video?

Because to me it seems like a magical bit of marketing where he goes out of his way to say nothing at all… he asks provocative questions and the most conservative of critics everywhere think they’ve finally got the proof they need that Rob Bell is a false teacher that should be offically branded as “unorthodox” and believers everywhere should watch their babies, watch their husbands, ’cause he’s false teachin everybody up in here.

But honestly the biggest problem I have with the reaction is not misinterpreting such an ambiguous video, but that everyone is criticizing a book that they have not read. It hasn’t even been released yet!

Oh man, that makes me mad.

What do you think?

strong odors » Faith

The End of Joy is Grief

The end of all joy is grief.

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It is Finished

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I Swore I’d Never Be

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