I should probably start today with a disclaimer. It's possible that I'm going crazy from homesickness or boredom or overexposure to Lederhosen and other Austrian delights. Either that or I'm regressing spiritually. Either way, my brilliant spiritual insight of the day came from a pigeon. Let's call him Joshua.
So today was a beautiful spring day. and I had no money since I get my stipend tomorrow (don't worry Mom, spent the last of it on groceries two days ago so I'm not starving). Oh, and I was bored out of my mind. So I decided to go take a walk and sit in a park for a while. As I was walking through this gorgeous city, I found it strange that I had become numb to the beautiful buildings all around me. The street performers, most of whom I have seen a hundred times, were old news. The Stephansdom, still breathtaking inside and out, made me a bit disgusted as I considered the fact that this historic Cathedral and house of God is really nothing more than a monument to man's creativity and ability and, today, little more than a tourist attraction and a source of income from the €0,85 (just over $1) prayer candles. Oh, and don't forget the gift shop inside one of the older side chapels.
"Where's God?" I thought to myself, as I walked through the Hofburg Imperial Palace courtyards. Then I saw Josh. A scrawny pigeon sitting on the shoulder of a massive statue of Hercules fighting off some demon or hydra or some such thing. Never before had I gotten the impression that a bird thought of himself as meaningful, but clearly Joshua did. His chest was puffed up, head drawn back, and his eyes were stone cold. He did not move a single muscle as he surveyed the tourists taking pictures and the patrons at the outdoor cafe from his lofty perch. Clearly, in his mind, he was in charge here. And everyone was here to pay homage to Emperor Joshua and his Herculean pigeon legend.
Then it hit me. That was me. Sitting on the perch of who I think I am, what I think I deserve, where I think I'm going, what I think God's plan for all this mess is. Ok, so maybe I never thought anyone was here to pay homage to me. Maybe half the time my mind was so full of homesickness and self-pity and confusion over how to get to God that it was all I could do to keep from stalling in the middle of the road like my 1993 Dodge Spirit did two years ago. But you know what? On the outside I was Emperor Joshua. Straight face, walking tall, like I owned the city. I was the only one who mattered here, and the only purpose for me being here was for God to work on me. And if that didn't happen, then nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. Even the church I found only existed to encourage me, to give me friends, and to hopefully play a part in bringing me to where God wanted me to be.
Aren't we all pretentious pigeons sometimes? Do you think the architects who built the Hofburg ever thought of what a wonderful bird perch they were building? Do you think some American tourist whipped out her camera today as she walked by, saying, "Oh, what a beautiful bird! Would you like some more bread crumbs, Joshua? Oh silly me, here, take my chocolate covered croissant, I actually am quite fond of bread crumbs, your Majesty." Do you think anyone will attend Joshua's funeral when he dies? Maybe even write a biography about his groundbreaking pigeon legislation and landmark achievements for equal rights for underprivileged pigeons?
But aren't our lives just as meaningless without Christ? And, whether we be on top of the world or thrown under the bus or somewhere in the middle, aren't we just as self-absorbed? What really matters to us, and why? Back to this quote from Mike Mancino: "Self-consciousness is an obstacle to God-consciousness." The more you think about yourself, the more you're moving away from Him.
How exactly do I fix this problem? I have some casual friends, some favorite cafes, and of course classes to attend, but I'm still basically alone. It seems to me that becoming God-conscious is hard whether you're alone or not. When we're not, we just focus on everything in our lives and everyone around us. And when we are, we just focus on ourselves. We look at God as one more person to fit in our lives - rather than a pair of contact lenses through which we should consider all other things. A pair of contact lenses, that is, with which we can have the most intimate and life-changing relationship ever. So maybe nothing at all like contacts.
My last post was entitled "Where is the passion?" - and it was a question to the church. Today, though, it's a question for me. And it's one I hope to find the answer to soon.
So today was a beautiful spring day. and I had no money since I get my stipend tomorrow (don't worry Mom, spent the last of it on groceries two days ago so I'm not starving). Oh, and I was bored out of my mind. So I decided to go take a walk and sit in a park for a while. As I was walking through this gorgeous city, I found it strange that I had become numb to the beautiful buildings all around me. The street performers, most of whom I have seen a hundred times, were old news. The Stephansdom, still breathtaking inside and out, made me a bit disgusted as I considered the fact that this historic Cathedral and house of God is really nothing more than a monument to man's creativity and ability and, today, little more than a tourist attraction and a source of income from the €0,85 (just over $1) prayer candles. Oh, and don't forget the gift shop inside one of the older side chapels.
"Where's God?" I thought to myself, as I walked through the Hofburg Imperial Palace courtyards. Then I saw Josh. A scrawny pigeon sitting on the shoulder of a massive statue of Hercules fighting off some demon or hydra or some such thing. Never before had I gotten the impression that a bird thought of himself as meaningful, but clearly Joshua did. His chest was puffed up, head drawn back, and his eyes were stone cold. He did not move a single muscle as he surveyed the tourists taking pictures and the patrons at the outdoor cafe from his lofty perch. Clearly, in his mind, he was in charge here. And everyone was here to pay homage to Emperor Joshua and his Herculean pigeon legend.
Then it hit me. That was me. Sitting on the perch of who I think I am, what I think I deserve, where I think I'm going, what I think God's plan for all this mess is. Ok, so maybe I never thought anyone was here to pay homage to me. Maybe half the time my mind was so full of homesickness and self-pity and confusion over how to get to God that it was all I could do to keep from stalling in the middle of the road like my 1993 Dodge Spirit did two years ago. But you know what? On the outside I was Emperor Joshua. Straight face, walking tall, like I owned the city. I was the only one who mattered here, and the only purpose for me being here was for God to work on me. And if that didn't happen, then nothing else mattered. No one else mattered. Even the church I found only existed to encourage me, to give me friends, and to hopefully play a part in bringing me to where God wanted me to be.
Aren't we all pretentious pigeons sometimes? Do you think the architects who built the Hofburg ever thought of what a wonderful bird perch they were building? Do you think some American tourist whipped out her camera today as she walked by, saying, "Oh, what a beautiful bird! Would you like some more bread crumbs, Joshua? Oh silly me, here, take my chocolate covered croissant, I actually am quite fond of bread crumbs, your Majesty." Do you think anyone will attend Joshua's funeral when he dies? Maybe even write a biography about his groundbreaking pigeon legislation and landmark achievements for equal rights for underprivileged pigeons?
But aren't our lives just as meaningless without Christ? And, whether we be on top of the world or thrown under the bus or somewhere in the middle, aren't we just as self-absorbed? What really matters to us, and why? Back to this quote from Mike Mancino: "Self-consciousness is an obstacle to God-consciousness." The more you think about yourself, the more you're moving away from Him.
How exactly do I fix this problem? I have some casual friends, some favorite cafes, and of course classes to attend, but I'm still basically alone. It seems to me that becoming God-conscious is hard whether you're alone or not. When we're not, we just focus on everything in our lives and everyone around us. And when we are, we just focus on ourselves. We look at God as one more person to fit in our lives - rather than a pair of contact lenses through which we should consider all other things. A pair of contact lenses, that is, with which we can have the most intimate and life-changing relationship ever. So maybe nothing at all like contacts.
My last post was entitled "Where is the passion?" - and it was a question to the church. Today, though, it's a question for me. And it's one I hope to find the answer to soon.
Hey Corey,
ReplyDeleteThis was really inspirational and insightful... thank you!
Thank you Corey. That was beautiful!
ReplyDelete