Dispatches from the Embassy

The Kingdom needs ambassadors, not activists.

We are called to be salt and light to a tasteless, shadowed realm that is ruled by the darkness of ignorance. We are asked to stand directly in between what is and what should be, and be the ladder that displaces the difference. We died with Christ so that we could live in resurrection life with him, as citizens of heaven, to represent a Kingdom that is only accessible on the other side of death. In this way, our primary role is to represent the culture and government of another land.

Activists choose agendas and social issues to be at the focus of their lifestyle and energies. They carry a conviction to see society transformed and injustice ceased, but that conviction has overridden Christ’s call to represent a better reality. Thus, we take all of our authority, which is the sum total of His authority, and submit it for debate between the minds of men.

We do not carry an alternative message, but a superior atmosphere. To reduce our heavenly posture down to a political position is to cheapen the work of the Cross. We are living embassies that demonstrate a higher way of life, one that is to be freely shared and practically experienced. In this sense, a lack of experience in the Kingdom they represent leads them to have a lack of faith in Christ’s work. They are left to advocate their opinions to a world that will never truly listen. They forget that Christ alone has the position of Advocate, and it is not our job to defend or advance any opinion.

Instead, when we act as ambassadors, we are constantly aware of the authority we’ve been given to represent a greater nation. We know we are capable of bringing any willing person into their own citizenship, but we see no need to take them as slaves and prisoners into our better world. We respect them by honoring their boundaries, knowing that it is our atmosphere that will sway them.

Many ambassadors have been mislabeled as activists, for the world can only comprehend small measures of the Kingdom and its’ grace. It is clear, however, that believers known as “activists” are only truly successful when, in their heart, they behave as ambassadors. MLK did not have a new or novel position on racial inequality in the United States; he simply had the heart of a free man, who carried himself with the dignity and equality of a heavenly citizen. He gave others a point of reference for what heaven would look like. He did not demand that anyone agree with him; he simply stood for a greater heavenly truth that other people could then experience through his life.

The Kingdom needs ambassadors, not border guards.

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5: The Explorer

There are five expressions of healthy leadership, and each expression activates a passion buried in the soil of the heart.

Secretly, I would really like to be Bear Grylls. It may be buried deep inside my psyche, but given the right circumstances, my survivalist instincts will rise to the surface. When I'm far enough away from signs of civilization, I slip into this fantasy where I understand what sort of things are poisonous or healthy for consumption. I imagine holstering a knife the size of my thigh, cruising down white-water rapids or starting a fire with three twigs and pocket lint. I then turn to the camera, with a certain joy in my self-aware expertise, and explain the awesome things I just did.

Now please understand: I don't want to adopt his bizarre culinary practices or his unusual uses for human urine. I just love that sense of exploration; having the ability to move beyond survival and into a greater sense of adventure. I believe it is instinctual to everyone, on some level. We are created to seek and find; to go where no-one else has been, to see what no-one else has seen.

In the creation account of the Torah, Adam is asked by God to name all of the animals. Perhaps God created a powerpoint slideshow and set up a theatre for Adam's convenience; or perhaps a hammock where he could lay, as every living creature walked by in single-file.

Or, perhaps it was a grander sort of adventure. Maybe, just maybe, he had to traverse outside of the safety and familiarity of the garden, into the wider world, to seek and find what he was called to name. He did have all the time in the world to take on such a feat, though by the literal account, he would've been naked. That is a whole new level of rugged, and it's where I would certainly draw the line.

In a more modern, clothed context, we have cinematic escapades that capture our imagination. With only his wits and his whip, Indiana Jones is never truly anxious about any of the dangers he faces. Braving the most brutal terrains and booby-trapped temples, he survives every threat only with moments to spare. And the relic he's after is always lost, but his sense of curiosity is satisfied... and so he returns to his classroom. Back to a nerdy persona, awkward in conversation, obsessed with artifacts that others claim are only legends.

In order for anything to grow, it must obtain and process nutrients. It must seek, and it must find. It must explore with a purpose mind; there must be an artifact worth pursuing. This is how communities and individuals advance; this is why books are written, this is why social libraries have existed for countless millennia.

The truest nature of a teacher is to share the story of your exploration, and the relics you've obtained. It is to instill a desire for adventure, for the pursuit of truth, to learn for the purpose of growth.

Slavery

...And so begins another blog, another shot at discipline, another forum to practice the art of writing. How beautiful, how delicate, are all the turnings of the english language! Their fluidity and consistency! Their grace and prose! Words become leveraged against eternity when they are committed to page; their life-span on the internet is less certain.

What is certain, though, is the force that language brings into the writing equation. To free the creativity of the mind, writers have been historically enslaved. They inflict a sort of bondage upon themselves: to choose one word here and another there, to use three words when four could do, to delete their favorite line for solidarity and to scour the thesaurus for another creative acquisition.

The truth of the matter is that everyone is a great writer, inside their mind. In fact, it's likely that even those who have never even considered writing are good writers in their minds! Writing is both an expression and a skill. To write is to find your voice and then constrict it; to free your inner creativity from the labyrinth of your mind and then enslave that expression back into the idea contained on the page.

Writing oscillates, then, between freedom and restraint. I read the carefully crafted ideas and ideals of ambitious authors, who have painstakingly formed their thoughts for my access. I am then released to think and believe; to ponder and consider, to agree or disagree. It most certainly provokes and inspires, but at a certain point I am again restrained to the writing. Unlike other forms of artistry, the words say what they will always say, and I will be restrained to their meaning.

For if this were not the case, books filled with jumbled characters edited by a monkey on a typewriter would be best-sellers; we could all free-associate our favorite memories and imaginations to the page, turning to one another to read lines, happy to pretend there was meaning in the mess. The young and old would read the same stories, and the work would be subject to the reader instead of the author. And the "q" would get equal use with the "e", assuming that the monkey mashes the keyboard without prejudice.

I choose to write, not because I have the best ideas for creative expression, but because I choose to restrain my creativity to the skill of communication. The artistic force behind writing, the spirit and the essence, is the feeling of a well-communicated thought. I now realize that to be a writer, you must choose to develop yourself as a communicator, refining the matter until it serves the limitless depths inside of everyone else.

I have chosen to practice my writing on a blog because it's less likely to be read that way, and because I won't be so distracted by all of the fonts. I am limiting myself to a time frame of thirty minutes of writing daily, so that I maintain healthy boundaries with the other elements of my life.

Even though writing can appear to be a form of slavery, I am choosing to engage in the exercise to see if a gift inside me can be freed. At a certain point, the exchange will be worth something grand, and I will be capable of expressing what was once an inexpressible thing. And then I will be free.

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