My new favorite books!

Two thousand thirteen has already given me three beautiful and mind-expanding books about life with God. These three books examine widely divergent topics but share one huge similarity: they all cite tons of Scripture to back up their points and newly illuminate it with their ideas. I highly recommend for every Christian:

1. Men and Women in the Church by Sarah Sumner, which I borrowed from my well-read parents. Main points: Most Christians of both sexes need to repent of sexism, and the Bible affirms women's value and capacity to teach, preach, prophesy and lead.
2. Miracle Work by Jordan Seng. I think O. likes this one even more than I do. The main premise: Just like other forms of ministry like preaching and sharing the gospel, supernatural ministries like prophecy, healing and deliverance ministries require effort and preparation. God empowers us to do "miracle work." Also, God works to ensure that his power always flows in ways that also demonstrate his love and compassion.
3. Jesus through Middle Eastern Eyes by Kenneth Bailey. O. bought this book at Urbana 2009 (but hasn't read any of it) and it caught my eye on our bookshelf last week. Honestly it's been a page-turner for me! I have never learned so much about the Bible from one book before. It's very exciting!! All I can say to summarize is that the Gospels really come alive with color and meaning when the cultural context is illuminated.

What I love most about these books is their explanatory power. Reading any of these books unveils the reason for and the implications of seemingly irrelevant or inexplicable events and details in Scripture. Miracle Work and Men and Women especially provide frameworks for a new kind of understanding--alternative paradigms, if you will. Another shared characteristic is the brilliant combination of personal testimony with exploration of Biblical principles and texts.

But enough from me! Go read one of these brilliant books. You'll be glad you did.

P.S. One last note: All three books also share the theme of sacrifice. Sumner highlights the pairing of sacrifice with submission in Ephesians 5:22-33. Seng states that "Sacrifice is the currency of love" in his discussion of consecration (one of the factors through which God empowers us to do miracle work). Bailey speaks of Christ's "costly demonstration of love" to the sinful woman in the house of Simon, for example, and ultimately on the cross.

Beautiful Things

A year and a half ago, at a service at MPPC, I heard a song that made me cry. It was played as background music to a video then. I have completely forgotten the video, but the song is burned into my mind. I remembered it in fall 2011 and looked up the lyric snippet I remembered: "You make beautiful things / out of the dust."

And I found it, and cried again. It was a hard moment in our marriage, and it took hope and faith for me to sing along. Things were not as I had imagined they would be, and I couldn't see a way forward. This song was my cry of pain and my cry of trust.

I bought the whole album by Gungor: "Beautiful Things," the song and the album are called.

 This past Sunday, O. and I were at MPPC together, and what song should the worship leaders close the service with but "Beautiful Things"? My heart was quiet as I listened and joyful as I sang along. Things are so different now than they were when I first discovered this song; things are so much better. God has been faithful and he has made beautiful things in O.'s and my relationship. Our marriage will be a beautiful thing someday, and indeed it is already, and if it ever crumbles to dust, I will still trust that Christ will remake it into a beautiful thing, and make it new--make us new. Make me new.

Welcome, 2013. Come, Emmanuel.

First

So many things to worry about today, but I will choose not to. First things first, and all the rest will follow.

At Sunday school a few weeks ago--in the middle of the "Will O. quit, or won't he?"--before the retreat, before the hurricane: that quiet Sunday morning, our leader, G., read to us from Matthew 6 in his lovely Southern accent: "But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you as well."

I started thinking about first. Seek God first: first in importance, first in line, first in the day. "Bring the best of the firstfruits of your soil into the house of the LORD your God." "But I have this against you: you have forgotten your first love." "We love because He first loved us."

Another one that I didn't think of at the time: "In the beginning was the Word." He was here first, before there was a here. God is first. ("You shall have no other gods before Me.") Everyone else's opinion can come last.

May I live this today.

Memory and Gratitude (2)

This post expands on the third point in my previous post on the importance of memory.

A few months ago, I was reading Ps. 105-106, and because I had memory on my mind, I noticed both psalms are about remembering. God remembers and Israel does not. Also, the Psalmist exhorts both Israel and God to remember. Some examples:

• "Remember the wonders he has done, his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced" (105:5), the psalm declares, and proceeds to recount those wonders, miracles and judgments.
• "He remembers his covenant forever; the word he commanded, for a thousand generations" (8). God is praised for remembering his promises.
• "For he remembered his holy promise given to his servant Abraham" (42).
• "Remember me, O Lord, when you show favor to your people, come to my aid when you save them" (106:4).
• "They did not remember your many kindnesses, and they rebelled by the sea, the Red Sea" (7). In contrast to God's faithfulness as seen through his remembering, Israel forgets God, which leads to rebellion.
• "They soon forgot what he had done and did not wait for his counsel. In the desert they gave in to their craving; in the wasteland they put God to the test." (13-14) Forgetting begets impatience, mistrust, greed, short-sightedness.
• "They forgot the God who saved them, who had done great things in Egypt, miracles in the land of Ham and awesome deeds by the Red Sea" (21-22).
• "But he took note of their distress when he heard their cry; for their sake he remembered his covenant and out of his great love he relented" (44-45). God's rescue of his people is directly connected to his remembering.

A search of BibleGateway for verses containing "remember" brings up many commands to Israel to remember (especially in Deuteronomy), many pleas to God to remember his covenant or his servants (especially in Psalms and in Nehemiah), and many promises from God that He does remember (everywhere). Remembering was vitally important to Israel, because their lives depended on God remembering his covenant, and on them remembering God's commands. Thus the dozens of commands to remember: "Remember the Sabbath (Exodus 20:8), "Remember the day you stood before the Lord at Horeb" (Deut. 4:10), "Remember that you were slaves in Egypt" (Deut. 5:15), "Do not be afraid of them; remember well what the Lord your God did to Pharoah and all of Egypt" (Deut. 7:18), etc.

How often do churches today exhort their congregations to remember? I can't remember a lesson on memory in all my years in church and Sunday school. Memory is all about information these days; you need to remember things in school but rarely in church. In church when you are supposed to remember something, it's a memory verse, word for word, not a story or a history, not a truth, not a person.

Why? Is it because, as Zimbardo says, we are future-oriented Protestants with a bent toward trying to justify ourselves through diligence and success? I don't know, but it's something to think and pray about.

Mortifying Fear

On Sunday, I heard a (great) sermon on Romans 8:13-14: "If you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death [mortify] the misdeeds of the body, you will live, because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God." Convicted and inspired, I resolved to put to death the sins God has been speaking to me about lately--especially fear of man. I resolved to kill my fear, to execute it, to exterminate it. I resolved to show no quarter, "have no sympathy" with my sin, as the pastor put it.

Sunday I resolved this: I must fear God rather than man. And then Monday morning came, and I had a terrible fight with O. And then Tuesday morning came, and my phone rang with an unknown number, and when I answered, the voice on the other end was the familiar voice of accusation. Prime opportunities to fear--or to mortify my fear.

I do not have to sympathize with my fear. By the Spirit I will put to death the misdeeds of my body, and I will live. This was my resolution, this is God's promise.

The promise and the resolution have both been tested this week, and I don't think it's a coincidence, the timing of the resolution and of the testing. It's been hard. But it's also been good, because God is good, and His mercies are new every morning. Every morning: Sunday morning when the truth flows, God's mercies are new; Monday morning when your heart breaks, God's mercies are new; Tuesday morning when you hang up the phone, Wednesday morning when sleep leaves you hours before dawn, Thursday morning when you wilt in the gray-scale world--His mercies are new, new, new. O Lord my God, your mercies are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.

Wild Geese

Heart pounding, blood rushing, I hunt through my heart, searching for the peace I felt this morning, the wonder I felt, when I heard overhead the trumpeting of the wild geese. In this city, where the street lights veil the stars and turn the night sky creamsicle-colored, and on this road, where the acrid air burns in my nostrils, here in this place, the wild geese are still flying. They are still singing. I turned my face upward and thanked God.

Now my body is in the same place but my heart has gone elsewhere. It is not with the geese anymore. Where is it? Lost among the streetlights. Yet the geese are still nearby, floating perhaps on the water in the abandoned reservoir. It is quiet, where the geese are. I will quiet my heart and listen: for the song of the beautiful wild geese, for a word from my Lord.

What are all these churches? : Introduction to Christianity (part 3)

A brief history of the church (the collection of all Christians), starting with the birth of Jesus Christ:

About two thousand years ago, Jesus was born to a devout Jewish family in the Roman-occupied and governed territory of Palestine. As an adult, Jesus traveled Israel (Palestine) with a band of disciples, proclaiming the nearness of the kingdom of God, teaching about Scriptures, healing the sick, and forgiving sins. He claimed to be the Son of God. Huge crowds followed him, though he appalled some followers by prophesying that he would die and be raised to life after three days (see Matthew 16:21 and following). Many Jewish religious leaders opposed Jesus, threatened by his claims (and demonstrations) of authority; eventually they succeeded in having him crucified by Roman authorities. Jesus died on the cross and was buried (as he had prophesied); three days later, his disciples found the tomb empty (as he had prophesied). Christians believe the tomb was empty because God had raised Jesus back to life; skeptics believe the tomb was empty because someone stole Jesus' body and duped everyone.

After Jesus' death and resurrection, his disciples spread the good news (gospel) that "God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16) throughout the Roman empire and beyond. Followers of Jesus came to be known as "Little Christs", or Christians (Acts 11:26). Christians believe Jesus to be the Anointed, or Christ (Greek), or Messiah (Hebrew)--the Savior who had been promised long ago in the Jewish Scriptures (which Christians encounter in the Old Testament of the Bible). The earliest Christians were all Jews, and in fact Christianity was originally considered a sect of Judaism, and as such was protected under Roman law as a legitimate religion.

The number of Christians grew, despite persecution, and Christianity eventually became a recognized and established religion. The body of believers, or church, came to have centralized, organized leadership, with the Pope as the very top of the human hierarchy, and ranks of cardinals, bishops, etc. below him. As the church grew, doctrinal disagreements and confusions sometimes sprang up; many creeds, such as the Nicene Creed discussed in this post, were composed in response to these controversies.

After about a thousand years, in 1054, this giant organization split along east-west lines corresponding to the east-west split in the Roman empire, in what is known as the Great Schism. The eastern branch became the Eastern Orthodox Church, and the western branch became the Roman Catholic Church.

Hundreds of years later, the Roman Empire had expired but the (Roman) Catholic Church was still going strong. In fact, it was a powerful political force, with a great deal of wealth. Unfortunately, many people sought positions in the clergy for the sake of wealth and power, rather than for spiritual reasons, with the result that corruption and theological drift were rampant. One of the more egregious problems was the sale of indulgences, a practice which essentially claimed that God's forgiveness of sins could be bought with money.

In 1517, German priest Martin Luther began publicly condemning and protesting the sale of indulgences and other practices of the Catholic church. This was the beginning of the Protestant Reformation, which lead to the birth of the Reformed, or Protestant, Church. Unlike Catholics, Protestants today are split into many different denominations, and have no single central leadership. (Some of these subgroups within Protestantism, in no particular order: Baptists, Evangelicals, Lutherans, Charismatics, Presbyterians, Pentecostals...)

What are the differences in beliefs between these three major branches of Christianity, you may ask? Unfortunately, I know a lot about my own branch of Protestantism but comparatively little about the Catholic church, and next to nothing about the distinguishing doctrines of the Eastern Orthodox Church. I will just write briefly about major differences between Catholics and Protestants, and leave it to you, dear Reader, to learn more by talking to (or reading from) persons who are better informed than I.

What are the differences in doctrine between Catholics and Protestants? Historically, Protestants have focused more than Catholics on personal/individual devotion to God and on reading the Bible for one's self. Protestantism holds that the Bible is the ultimate and only real spiritual authority, whereas Catholicism teaches that tradition is a spiritual authority as well, and that priests and other clergy members have a distinct kind of authority to interpret Scripture and tradition, which unordained believers (laity, or laypeople) do not have. The pitfall of the Protestant perspective is a tendency to excessive individualism, leading to division and uncorrected misinterpretations of Scripture; on the other hand, the pitfall of the Catholic perspective is a tendency to excessive authoritarianism for the clergy and passivity for the laity.

The other two highly visible differences in doctrine stem from this difference in the roles of Scripture vs. clergy. The first is that Protestants give the virgin Mary little attention; she is honored as the mother of Jesus and as a good woman, but not seen as dramatically different from other Christians.  Catholics, on the other hand, see Mary's role as far greater; she is important enough to be prayed to. This doesn't mean she is considered to be a second god, though; Catholics sometimes pray to a variety of saints. (Protestants, in contrast, don't even have a process for recognizing saints.) Honestly, I don't understand Mary's role in Catholicism. Ask someone who believes if you want to know more.

The other highly visible doctrinal difference is in the interpretation of Communion. All Christian churches practice the sacrament of Communion (as far as I know), which is a commemoration of the final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples at Passover, on the night that he was betrayed and then crucified. At that Last Supper, Jesus

took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”  In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you. (Luke 22:19-20)

Christians symbolically re-enact this scene (take Communion) to fulfill Christ's command to "do this in remembrance of me." Catholicism teaches that, in Communion, the bread and wine are miraculously transformed to become, literally, the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ. This doctrine is known as transubstantiation. Protestantism teaches, instead, consubstantiation, the idea that the bread and wine of Communion, while sacred, do not physically become flesh and blood, but symbolically represent the flesh and blood of the Lord Jesus. This difference in interpretation of Communion leads to different practices as to its implementation in Catholic vs. Protestant churches.


Despite these significant differences in doctrine and practice, Catholicism and Protestantism, as well as Eastern Orthodoxy, agree more than they disagree. These three branches of Christianity, flaws and all, are still unified spiritually as the Church, set apart for God. They have Christ in common, and at the end of time all the differences and disagreements will be sorted out in His light.

Hiding

I've been talking with a friend lately about his habit of hiding. Not answering the uncomfortable questions, avoiding work by reading things online, using chocolate as a quick-fix: hiding, hiding from the truth.

I confronted this friend about his hiding. I berated and exhorted him, I explained why it's harmful, what kind of priorities it reveals (self-worship, at the bottom: refusal to face the truth about one's self). It was a long conversation, and my friend went away chastised. I took for granted that I had the higher moral ground. Then the next day, I noticed myself hiding, exactly the way my friend does. There was an uncomfortable truth or several lurking under the surface of my consciousness, and I knew I ought to dig it up and give it up to the Lord of my soul, "who forgives all my sins and heals all my diseases" (Ps. 103:2). But I didn't want to.

I've been confronting this friend about a number of his bad psychospiritual habits, and I keep noticing the same tendencies in myself shortly after those conversations.

Honestly, it is so stinking hard not to hide. There are a million ways to do it. I hide my fear by being angry, or I hide my anger by being afraid. I hide my disagreement by asking questions instead of speaking out, or by not speaking at all. I hide from despair by doing "fun" things--watching T.V., reading books. I hide from all my feelings by doing "productive" things--assembling furniture, working on my resume, researching nutrition. I hide from O. by not answering his emails and text messages. I hide from feelings of disconnection by hugging him and ignoring my anger or sadness. I hide from the demands of my body (food! water! exercise!) by engaging my mind or my emotions; I hide from the demands of my emotions by feeding and indulging my body.

The trouble is, hiding from truth is hiding from God. This is folly. In the Garden, Adam and Eve, ashamed, refused to come when God called them. They deluded themselves into thinking He couldn't see them. I tell myself this is totally different from what I'm doing, but that too is a delusion. I keep avoiding truths, and the Truth. But what I really need, underneath it all and above it all and beyond it all, is the Truth: Jesus, the Way, the Truth, the Life.

"Surely You desire truth in the innermost parts." O my Lord, cleanse me. I pray in faith with the Psalmist: "Cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean; wash me and I will be whiter than snow." (Psalm 51:6, 7) O God, help.

Nicene Creed: Introduction to Christianity (part 2)

In the last post, I wrote about the definitions of "Christian" and "Catholic." The dictionary defines a Christian as someone who follows Jesus Christ and his teachings. Who is Jesus and what did he teach?

The answers to those questions lie in the gospels, accounts of the life and teachings of Jesus written down by eyewitnesses within the lifetimes of other eyewitnesses. To know Jesus, you should read the accounts we have of him; the gospel of Mark is the most concise and fast-paced. (Link is for The Message version.)

But it takes a while (at least a couple hours) to read the gospels. Moreover, as accounts written two thousand years ago in a totally different cultural context, the gospels can be seriously disorienting. It doesn't work well to read the gospels trying to quickly extract principles and instructions of Christianity. The gospels are not full of convenient lists of ideas, because Christianity is about a Person (God), not an idea, and the proper "container" for a person is a story, not a list. While incomplete in itself, a list or summary can be a helpful orientation before (or during or after) reading the gospels themselves. For this, a creed is helpful.

So, for the person interested in a summary of the essential points of Christianity, here follows a discussion of the Nicene Creed, which summarizes the major doctrines of Christianity* in three paragraphs. But be prepared: Even the creed is more like a story than a theory.

Here is my paraphrase or adaptation of the story/list that is the Nicene Creed (Brackets indicate points that are not directly in the Nicene Creed), expanded into six paragraphs:

(1) From the beginning of time, before there was anything, there was God, the Almighty. God created everything else that is: the physical world and the spiritual world. [One of God's creations was humans, whom He created to love and serve Him, but who rebelled against Him in mistrust. Ever since the first rebellion, humans have lived in a broken world and in broken relationships with each other and with their Creator and Father, God.]

(2) For the sake of us fallen people, God sent down to us His Son. This Son is not a biological son, or in any way less than God as Father, but, mysteriously, has always existed (rather than having been created) and is one Being with God the Father and is just as much God as the Father is, so that the Father and Son are distinct but unified, two Persons but one God. This Son, Jesus Christ, took on a human body and being to walk among us and live a human life but a perfect life. He started where we all start, as a baby. He was born to Mary, a virgin, having been conceived by the Holy Spirit instead of by physical means. [He went through childhood and adolescence and grew up. As an adult, he traveled around Israel with a band of students (disciples), ministering to huge crowds by teaching about God's kingdom, healing the sick and forgiving sins. Jesus' teaching and claims infuriated the religious authorities of Israel, who conspired against him.]

He was tried in a Roman court under Pontius Pilate, who sentenced him to death by crucifixion: being nailed to a cross and dying the most shameful death available. The human agents at the time didn't realize it, but they were fulfilling God's plan for the world, the purpose for which Jesus, God the Son, had come into the world in the first place: dying to save us from the power of sin and death.

And so Jesus, the Son of God, died and was buried--and then on the third day after his death, He rose again to life. This fulfilled the prophecies in the Jewish Scriptures and in Jesus's own ministry. After rising again to life, He returned to Heaven in glory, where He has taken up his position of authority, at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to Earth, at an unknown time, for the final judgment and the end of time and the restoration of the world.

(3) In the mean time, followers of God are helped and guided by the Holy Spirit, who is the third Person of God, of one Being with the Father and Son, and as such is worshiped and glorified as God in the same way that God the Father and God the Son are worshiped and glorified. The Spirit speaks to God's followers today, as He spoke through the prophets whose words are recorded in the Bible.
God's followers form the Church, which God has made holy.

Despite the divisions and brokenness in the human institutions that represent the Church, there is one unified and holy Church which the many churches strive to manifest and to become. Also, despite the various manifestations and interpretations of the sacrament of baptism, there is one baptism which these different versions all represent. Baptism itself is connected to forgiveness of sins. Members of the Church live in hope, believing God's promise that He will restore life to the dead and bring about a new and fuller life in a new and restored world.

*These doctrines are all accepted by the Catholic church, most Protestant churches, and the Eastern Orthodox church. (Where did all those different churches come from, you ask? See part 3...)

100 Things

For four months, I've been weary and congested. It is easy to disintegrate into gloom and grump, especially as the days shorten. The light dims early, and by the time O. gets home, I can barely keep my eyes open. The antibiotics I finally started taking two weeks ago have suppressed but not expelled my sinus infection. Mild despair is a constant temptation.

My home remedy today: gratitude list. I recently encountered from two disparate sources (one of them The Good and Beautiful God) the suggestion to make a list of one hundred things you are grateful for. I am keen on lists, but the idea of a 100-item list is somewhat daunting, and I've been putting it off. But I think today is the day! So...

Today I am grateful for...

1. the return of my sense of smell
2. the smell of orange and the fine spray that bursts from its rind as I peel the orange
3. a super-comfy sleeping bag to curl up in
4. the Persian carpet I'm sitting on--the most extravagant-feeling item in our apartment
5. how most of the things in our home were presents from friends, and came accompanied by well-wishes and expressions of affection
6. the hundred friends at our wedding
7. all the other friends who couldn't be there: for loved ones scattered across the continent and globe, for such an abundance of relationships that it's impossible to gather the whole network into one room
8. God's provision of new relationships in this new place
9. the way that God often waits for me to realize I need something before He gives it to me
10. O. & our relationship (marriage!)
11. that miserable programming class where I met O.
12. O.'s amazing persistence in pursuing me
13. my mother's cooking lessons
14. Douglas Hofstadter and his beautiful & fascinating books, especially Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid
15. having read GEB, without which I probably would have remained another silly/stupid Christian in O.'s eyes
16. parents who read me bedtime "stories" up through high school
17. my father's love of mathematics and ideas, and his audacity in starting to read his thirteen-year-old daughter an 800-page tome that is packed with propositional logic and number theory (GEB)
18. the pain of my mistakes with IJ the spring before I met O., without which the lessons of IJ would not have stuck.
19. the lesson of my sin: God is merciful and I need His mercy so very badly.
20. the book of Ephesians which changed how I see myself and my God
21. the sermon on Ephesians 1 and God's riches, generosity & abundance, which turned me to the book of Ephesians in the first place
22. the university library which provided me with so many books: educational, edifying, entertaining; informative, influential, inspiring
23. three years of leading a Bible study / small group with Intervarsity
24. my co-leader, my brother in Christ: without you I couldn't have led, certainly not for three years
25. God's faithfulness in keeping me at Intervarsity even when all I felt toward my chapter was disappointment, frustration and pain at how I couldn't fit in
26. my brothers and sister in Christ who showed me the love of the body of Christ and made me see for the first time that the body can't say to me "I don't need you."
27. the joy of running barefoot across a lawn, chasing a frisbee, surrounded by friends
28. dandelions like little suns in the green grass
29. planetariums
30. the night sky, the million billion stars
31. the internet
32. Google, which helps me find so many things online, provides the software for this blog, and pays O., thus providing our food, shelter, savings, health benefits, etc.
33. electricity, especially for lights
34. candles and the freedom to burn them here whenever and wherever I want
35. fresh bread on the counter and sharp cheddar in the refrigerator
36. being able to walk everywhere I need to go in this town
37. money for groceries, including the "luxury" items: clementines, apple cider, goat cheese
38. ready access to the Bible in my own native language
39. the several hundred books O. and I own between the two of us
40. my sister's paintings on our walls
41. my sister & the shape of our sisterhood
42. free phone and video calls between here and Vietnam (where my sis is): thank you, Skype
43. ice cream
44. O. spontaneously buying ice cream for my benefit
45. the dozen roses O. sent me once upon a time, which I still have, sere and somewhat shriveled but still scented
46. antibiotics, decongestant, allergy med.s
47. medical insurance
48. the way the light marbles when it passes through our glass pitcher, leaving a pebbly shadow on the painted wall
49. minuscule air bubbles inside the glass sides of our water glasses
50. the look of the naked winter trees--like so many veins and capillaries, the sky a lung and the earth the heart
51. such a good high school education, in science and writing and math
52. having graduated college; the end of homework (for a time).
53. washing machines
54. central heating
55. hot water
56. the current absence of mice and mouse-droppings
57. how cute and small mice are, with lovely round eyes
58. glasses that let me see clearly
59. eyes that see
60. the ability to read quickly and easily
61. an upbringing that taught me to look for the effects of personality, culture and personal history
62. how friendly and approachable the Bible (usually) feels to me
63. the relative ease with which I believe the vast majority of the time that God is good and trustworthy
64. God's trustworthiness
65. God's love of beauty
66. Christ's saving sacrifice: that now "in him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence" (Eph. 3:12)
67. the parable of the Good Shepherd: that it's okay that I'm a sheep and I can't take care of myself, because I have a Good Shepherd (John 9)
68. the bread that came down from Heaven (John 6)
69. the gospel of John
70. language, words, speech, writing
71. the diversity of languages
72. Tim Keller, particularly his talk on marriage, given at Google
73. my intuition for spelling which I really can't take credit for but which makes my life so much easier
74. poetry workshops and the cool people in them
75. Kevin Kim, whose presence in the MPPC leadership tells me it's okay to be Korean, it's okay that I only partially resemble an Anglo-American (in both looks and culture). He also gives fantastic sermons.
76. being biracial, neither one thing nor the other
77. knowing what it's like to not belong and to stand out on the street as a stranger, because without that experience of exclusion and isolation, how could I empathize with the stranger and foreigner?
78. having someone to belong with and to, and who accepts me & wants deep intimacy with me: O.
79. a place that feels like home
80. the beaches of northern California: the color of the cold, cold sea against the shining blue sky; the grit of the sand under my feet; the green anemones in the dark tide pools; the flocks of sea gulls white against the sand and sky and sea
81. small groups at church here
82. free time in abundance
83. the story of Elijah being fed by ravens as he hid in the ravine for three years: sometimes God calls us to long periods of inactivity and non-productivity
84. not having any food allergies
85. the widespread availability of soy milk that actually tastes good
86. free access to the Oxford English Dictionary through my alma mater's website
87. art and art galleries and art museums, accessible to me
88. professors who spent time with me & loved me
89. a pastor who knows my name and takes time to meet with the people of the congregation
90. Latin classes in high school, so much etymology just under the surface of my mind (congregation has as its root "grex, gregis: a flock or herd")
91. a God who is Love and who is Three in One: "God is the opposite of solitude" (Letham in Holy Trinity)
92. peace when I'm troubled
93. being called to hope (Eph. 1)
94. the sky which is visible wherever I go, beauty freely given
95. cameras and photographs
96. my memory, a healthy brain
97. legs that can climb stairs and walk for miles
98. not being discriminated against because I am a woman
99. being here to be a person and a story, not a machine or a formula (thanks, Thomas Merton)
100. freedom in Christ. "Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty." (2 Cor. 3:17)
101. chocolate*

*N.B.: These are in the order in which they occurred to me; there is no other ordering principle. :)

Social Life

From David Dobb's feature story in the Oct. 2011 National Geographic, "Beautiful Brains":

"This supremely human characteristic makes peer relations not a sideshow but the main show. Some brain-scan studies, in fact, suggest that our brains react to peer exclusion much as they respond to threats to physical health or food supply. At a neural level, in other words, we perceive social rejection as a threat to existence. Knowing this might make it easier to abide the hysteria of a 13-year-old deceived by a friend or the gloom of a 15-year-old not invited to a party. These people! we lament. They react to social ups and downs as if their fates depended upon them! They're right. They do."

(David Dobbs, National Geographic, Oct. 2011 issue. )

--But do they?

On the one hand, the statement that "we perceive social rejection as a threat to existence" resonates deep inside me. I didn't experience that level of wild oscillation as a teenager, but now that I am in the most vital human relationship of my life (this thing called "romance," which has become "marriage"), I know in a new way the feeling that something in me will die, is dying, when the relationship is damaged. I never depended like this before, I never hurt like this before (& I never rejoiced like this before).

Which brings me to the other hand: though humans are meant to live in society/community, and to be defined by relationship, I don't believe our existence (as the essence of ourselves) is meant to be threatened by social rejection, no matter how severe. I think we're meant to feel threatened by it, and that that sense of threat should shake us into realizing: this isn't my life. Or rather, it's my life, but it's not my Life.

--if that makes any sense. Let me be more explicit.

As a Christian, I am at the same time profoundly dependent and connected to the people around me ("one flesh" with my husband, "one body" with the rest of the Church), and radically independent from them because who I am is who Christ says I am, and Christ is life, light, truth, salvation, and hope for me. He is the Bread of Life. He is my Refuge. No one can snatch me out of his hand.

Christian Identity / a quote I want to be able to find later

As I was eating breakfast this morning, I picked up a book I found lying on the counter. Reading a few pages, I was struck by this:

Some Christians base their identity on being a sinner. I think they have it wrong--or only half right. You are not simply a sinner; you are a deeply loved sinner. And there is all the difference in the world between the two.

Sin is a corollary to our primary status as greatly loved children of God. First we were loved into being, created in the good and sinless image of our Creator God. And although sin damaged that which had been utterly good, it allowed us to discover that God's love is directed toward us just as we are, as sinners. The sequence is important. We must never confuse the secondary fact with the primary truth.

Real knowing of ourselves can only occur after we are convinced that we are deeply loved precisely as we are. The fact that God loves and knows us as sinners makes it possible for us to konw and love our self as sinner. It all starts with knowing God's love.

(David G. Benner, The Gift of Being Yourself, p. 64-65)

This is so well-put! Yay!

[... And that's all I really need to say about this. But here follows some of my thoughts/recollections that have to do with why I love these paragraphs.]

(1.)

I heard a distorted version of this argument a couple years ago when missionaries from a Korean Christian-esque cult (Good News Corps) interrupted my Bible study preparations when I was sitting outside at school. Their English wasn't very good, so it took a while to see how much of the confusion and expressed disagreement was due to language issues versus theological differences. They asked me if I was a Christian and if I believed that I am sinful and if I believed that I was saved, and then they kept saying that if you're a Christian, you can't/don't sin, because you've been brought out of the kingdom of darkness and into the kingdom of God's light. I had a really hard time figuring out how much of what they said actually lined up with what I believe. In the end, I realized that I don't believe their central claim (saved people never sin). But I couldn't articulate what I actually believe (and what I believe the Bible teaches) without overemphasizing the fact that Christians do continue to fall short even once they've come into God's kingdom.

I think what I said to them was something along the lines of:

• I agree that the identity of the Christian doesn't reside in being a sinner
• and instead the identity of the Christian is as a follower of Christ and a child of God and as forgiven and redeemed
• but that doesn't mean that we already live entirely according to that new holy identity.

Our primary identity is as holy people, but our behavior (which in my definition covers thoughts and feelings as well as external actions) is still a work in progress. In conclusion, Christians do sin, and so it is true to say that I am a sinner.

I think I put my point across, but it's not good communication to pin such a freight of concepts onto a verbal distinction between sinner-as-identity vs. sinner-as-behavior. I'm really happy to have discovered Benner's passage which articulates the Christian (& human) identity so much more clearly, and then explores its significance--that "it all starts with knowing God's love."

(2.)

That last paragraph also connects with something I've been telling a friend who is a young Christian and who is deeply concerned about his sinfulness. He is extremely impatient to become a better person, and he is frequently frustrated at his slow growth. As a result, he is perpetually looking for things to do that will make him better.

And so I keep telling him that his focus is in the wrong place. He isn't going to become a better person by trying to be a better person. Doing good things does have good effects, but it doesn't change your identity. Transformation requires time and the uprooting of lies. (c.f. Grace + Truth + Time => Transformation, the sermon series from which this great sermon on Hosea comes) Focusing on our selves and our sin will not fix things. I told him he needs to lift up his eyes to Jesus and worship Him by giving Him his attention, because by focusing on his own sinfulness he is ultimately still being self-obsessed and self-worshipful.

I still think what I said to my friend was true. But again, Benner says it better. "It all starts with God's love." "God's love is directed toward us just as we are, as sinners."

(3.)

This passage of Benner's writing also speaks to a third thing in my life: Paul Washer's theology. I can't speak for exactly what Paul Washer actually believes, because it's possible that he is just using language in a much less precise way than I would like, and in a way that promotes some untruths. So I will address the things he says, and not worry too much about whether he really means exactly what he is saying.

Paul Washer preaches radical depravity (for instance, in this discussion), and his definition of the doctrine states that there is no good in humans whatsoever. I can't agree with that statement, because no matter how messed up a person is, a person is still a person. A person is created in the image of God, and even when that gets horribly distorted, that image is still there. I agree with Paul Washer that people cannot save themselves, and that we need provenient grace even in order to turn to God, but I can't agree that humans are completely devoid of goodness on their own--although, as my father brought up when I asked him about this, all goodness comes from God. "Every good and perfect gift comes from the Father of the heavenly lights..." (James ?:?), especially life, so maybe it's absurd even to speak of being alive without God. I don't think that's what Paul Washer was talking about, though, because the question he is addressing in that clip is about election and whether God has picked out you, you and you to go to heaven, and you, you and you to go to hell. Ugh.

Anyway! I think Benner's second paragraph really speaks to the question of human goodness. On our own, entirely without God--well, we wouldn't even exist, much less be alive. Christ holds everything together (Col. 1:17), and "in him we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28). These things are true of all of us, Christians or no. Also true of all humans is that "we were loved into being" (Benner)--Christians or no. There is no human who is utterly and totally devoid of goodness, because there is no human who is not made in the image of the perfect and good Creator.

Truth: it's a good way to start the morning. Thank God.

"All I need is You, Lord"?

"The Christian who has a solid relationship with God doesn't need anyone/anything else." True or false?

[My answer, when this question came to me in an email:]

There have been solitary monks who found fulfillment only in God, without human company. But as far as the Bible says, we are supposed to be in community. For the Christian who does have the opportunity to spend time with people, it doesn't make sense to distinguish between getting fulfillment from a solid relationship with God and having good relationships with other people. If you have a solid relationship with God, that will draw you into deeper and more meaningful relationships with people. A solid relationship with God makes you more and more the person that He made you to be. And as in the quote you cited, "It is not good for the man to be alone": humans were made for community. So in general, it doesn't make sense to imagine being in a close relationship with God but not being in community with other Christians. We are called to become "one body"!

Read 1 Cor. 12. We need each other.

Resolutions

Two complementary ideas in my New Year's resolution(s): trust and fear. This semester was a season of being forced to acknowledge my insecurities, one by one. They popped out of corners and slid out of shadows. They nosed me from behind, like shy dogs; they crashed against my windows. And this semester was a season of finding myself held, soothed, brought inside.

Big changes are coming in 2011, in my external life. In my internal life, I want to see big changes, too. Having realized I am so dominated by fear (fear that floods over me, fear that drenches me, fear that knocks the air from my lungs), I have begun to want freedom from fear. I want to lie in the sun of security, and finally dry off, out of the reach of the waves. I don't want tidal waves of fear happening at the drop of a word, at the twist of a smile. I want to live in love, not fear: "Perfect love casts out fear. She who fears is not made perfect in love." I want to trust, instead. I want to trust O. more, trust my fellowship more, trust my friends more. I want to trust God more.

Freedom from fear, freedom to trust. For 2011, I resolve to graduate out of fear into the liberty of love.

"Bought at a price"

Like the last post, this is the body of an email I wrote, replying to a friend's question about Scripture.

The question:

"The verse 'You are not your own; you were bought at a price' really struck me. What does it mean?"

Let's start by taking a look at the pieces of this verse. What are they saying?

1. "You are not your own." You don't own yourself. You are not your own master; Someone else is. This means you are not in charge of deciding what is ok and what is not ok (like how you are not your own judge; only God is the Judge), and you are not in charge of deciding what is important or deciding what to do with your life. --Which raises the question: Who is my master? Whose am I?


2. "You were bought at a price." Someone bought you (which is why you don't own yourself) and the purchase was costly to the buyer. Someone wanted you enough to pay the price to say to the world, "This person belongs to me; this person is precious to me." --Which raises the questions: Who bought me? What was the price?

Note: I've been writing "you" because that's how the verse is phrased, but of course this is you && me && O. && all the Intervarsity kids && all the people at our church && just everyone who is following Christ.

Ok, so those questions: Who is my master? Whose am I? Who bought me? What was the price?
Clearly they are connected. The one who is your (our) master and the one you belong to and the one who bought you should all be the same person. This is the person who paid the price for you. So who is that?

You probably have a pretty clear guess already that this Person is Jesus Christ, who died on the cross for our sins, who is the Good Shepherd who laid down his life for his sheep. Death is a pretty expensive price to pay...

But I'm getting ahead of myself. To really know if the Owner/Master/Buyer is Jesus, we should look at the context of the verse. "You are not your own; you were bought at a price" is verse 19-20 of 1 Corinthians 6, so... what's going on in the rest of the chapter?

And actually, we should also ask: What's going on in the other parts of the verse? "Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." (v. 19-20).

Two chains of reasoning here:

• v.19: The Holy Spirit is in you => Live as though your body is a temple (holy).
• v.20: Someone bought you => your body doesn't belong to you => honor God with your body. [implication: God bought you => your body belongs to Him => honor Him with your body]

So I think from that context it's pretty clear that the one we belong to is God. Verse 19 specifies that the Holy Spirit (who in theological terms is one of the three Persons of God) lives in us, and we are temples of the Spirit, i.e., we belong to the Holy Spirit. But what about Jesus? and what about the "price"? Where does that come in?

If we look earlier in the chapter, it's dealing with several topics that might not initially seem related (lawsuits, food, sexual immorality). The connection is that the argument explaining what's wrong with all of the wrong behaviors. This argument is essentially the same as the one in v. 19-20: we are belong to God, we are united with God, so we need to act like it! In explaining this idea, Paul first states is in a much more expanded form than what we were first looking at. Verses 9-11:

"Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor [other sinners] will inherit the kingdom of God. And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God."

Verses 14-15 deal with this idea also. We are united with Christ, so how can we not live like Christ?

So, even though the chapter is addressing various behaviors, actually the ideas are all about who we are, not about what we do. The ideas are about identity, not about laws. The fundamental problem when we sin is not that we are breaking rules, but that we are acting totally out of sync with the real identities that God has given us. Our identity lies in belonging to God. "You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God."

This is like how our identity is also as the sheep that belong to Jesus in John 10. "[The shepherd] calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice." On our own, we are lost and helpless. But we are not our own anymore; Jesus has found us / bought us / freed us from sin / brought us into the family (compare: John 8:34-36).

I could keep writing for pages and pages about what it means to belong to God, but I think this email has gotten long enough! :) But really, most of the Bible is about exactly this topic. What does it mean that we do not belong to ourselves? What does it actually look like to obey God? For what price did God buy us? Why would he want to buy us in the first place? So keep reading, and it will gradually become clearer and richer. In particular, you might want to read Romans 6, which also uses the metaphor of being slaves to sin and then becoming "slaves to righteousness" because of Jesus. And then if you read on through Romans 8, Paul moves beyond the limited slavery metaphor to the truer image of us being adopted into God's family.

OT/NT

This post is essentially the body of an email I wrote to a friend who asked about how to reconcile these verses:

• "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." (Old Testament law, somewhere in the Pentateuch)
• "You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you." (Jesus speaking, Matt. 5:38-42)
• "Scripture cannot be broken" (Jesus speaking, John 10), "For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven." (my friend misattributed this to the apostle Paul, but this is Jesus speaking, Matt. 5:18-19)

My friend's question:

"So what does this mean? Does this means Scripture can be broken? Or is the New Testament self-contradictory?" (I would also add: Does the NT contradict the OT?)

My reply: First off, both of the NT verses you quoted are actually things that Jesus said. So if there is a contradiction, Jesus would have to be contradicting himself. In fact, when Jesus says, "until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished" (Matt. 5:18), he says this immediately after saying that his own relation to the Law is not that he is going to destroy it but to fulfill it (Matt. 5:17). From there, he goes on to make those statements, "You have heard X was said, but I tell you Y." (Matt. 5:21-22, 27-28, 31-32, etc) So if Jesus is contradicting himself here, he would have to be totally crazy and not credible in any way at all (in my opinion), because those "You heard X but I tell you Y" statements look like they are actually supposed to be the evidence for and the explanation of his comments on the Law and Prophets in general.

If you haven't already, now would be a good time to read all the way through Matt. 5 and if you want the fuller picture, all through Matt. 6-7 as well.

Even though it may look like Jesus is invalidating various Old Testament commands, he's actually expanding upon them. He is actually explaining their full significance, their true meaning, the spirit behind them. For instance, let's look at the one you specifically asked about: "You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also." (Matt. 5:38-39). Is Jesus contradicting or overruling the original commandment?

No. He is actually making a stronger command, in the same spirit as the original. This is easier to see if we look at some other examples:

• v. 21-22:

  "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother will be subject to judgment."

  Obviously Jesus is not telling them that murderers are no longer subject to judgment. He is not saying that murder is now ok. What he is doing is deepening the command. The original law was about an action (murder), but Jesus says, "It's not enough to refrain from killing someone. If you are really following God, you won't even get into an emotional state where you would want to kill anyone." The new life is about the spirit, the heart, the thought.


• v. 27-28:

  “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart."

  Again, Jesus is clearly not saying it's okay to commit adultery. He's saying it's just as bad to be in the frame of mind where you want to commit adultery. You could be following the old rule against adultery, even while violating its real meaning every day. Again, the way of Jesus requires a change in your heart, not just in your actions.

So, what's going on in verses 38-39? The answer has to do with the real meaning of "Eye for an eye": This is actually a limit on the severity of revenge or punishment. In the surrounding culture when the Old Testament law was given, it was common to take a revenge that was vastly disproportionate to the original offense. For instance, your brother lost his eye to someone, so you go out and kill the person who caused your brother to lose his vision. The law here is meant to say: Your brother only lost an eye, so the punishment given to the one who hurt him can only be as severe as taking an eye from him. No worse. (This is pretty much like the Code of Hammurabi, I believe.)

We could express this in mathematical terms: the OT law requires punishment to no greater than the original offense or damage. It does not require the punishment to be equal to the original offense.

Jesus's reframing of the law, then, is telling them: Don't just refrain from going overboard in taking revenge. Instead, don't take revenge at all! Do good to your enemies instead of repaying them evil for evil. (Compare: v. 43-45, about loving your enemies.)

In conclusion, Jesus is not contradicting himself, and he is not contradicting the OT either. Instead, he is explaining the real meaning of the OT law. He is explaining what God's kingdom looks like. It's similar to John 4, where Jesus is talking to the Samaritan woman, and she asks about the correct place to worship. That's like asking which is the correct rulebook to follow. Jesus tells her, "The time is coming and is now here when the true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and in truth." That's like saying the right way to live is not about the rules, but about the Person behind the rules and the Spirit that the rules try to describe. To be clear: the Sermon on the Mount isn't meant as a new set of rules but as a portrait of life with God. What does it look like to actually fulfill the law, what does it look like to truly follow God, what does it look like to worship God in spirit and in truth?

[Some rambling reflections:] Sabbath, fear, trust, humility

From the last page of this article in Veritas Riff about Christian politicians and sex scandals:

"Practicing Sabbath rest is one way of exercising humility, but we do it very, very poorly in this country."

I've never thought about it that way. Sabbath as tithe, Sabbath as discipline, Sabbath as a fast, Sabbath as simply following a rule; Sabbath as gift and blessing, Sabbath as "joy-day" (in John Ortberg's parlance); Sabbath as breaking the bonds of putting faith in work and achievement, even Sabbath as an exercise in trusting God, which comes closer. But not Sabbath as an act of humility.

My relationship to the Sabbath has gone through a lot of different phases. When I was little, I never thought about it. Then there was a long period where I fasted from novels on Sunday (though I didn't think of it as fasting, at the time). Then I went through a phase where I tried to get all my homework done on Friday and if necessary Saturday; then some time after getting to Stony Brook, I started counting the day of rest as being from sunset Saturday to sunset Sunday, with the result that I would end up staying up really late Sunday to get homework done. I was keeping the Sabbath rigidly, in a practice that was still good but definitely tainted by a mix of fear and pride.

Then my attitude changed a lot, because I was absorbing the truth of my freedom in Christ. I think I was reading Hearing God and maybe also Celebration of Discipline or Into the Depths of God, all of which discuss listening to the Spirit instead of being tightly and mindlessly bound by rituals (which is what my personality drives me to). No longer knowing how to motivate Sabbath-keeping, I stopped altogether.

Then I went to IVCF's missions conference, Urbana, and read Mudhouse Sabbath, which talks about how the Jewish Sabbath is a day of celebration and community and good eating (not of austerity and fasting and constraint, as in traditional Protestant practice). That was an eye-opener, and it built the bridge in my mind between the teaching I've heard about taking a "joy day" and the Bible's descriptions of the Sabbath.

Lately I haven't been consciously practicing a day of rest. I have effectively been keeping a day of rest from work, because I spend almost all weekend with O., talking and reading and eating and cooking and sometimes watching movies (and last weekend, our (dating) anniversary, going to the Guggenheim and being enthralled by Kandinsky's colors). But I hesitate to call that time a Sabbath because it's not time devoted to God per se. Moreover, I'm not sure I can even call it a day of simple rest, because this semester, Saturday has often brought some emotional stress. Relationships are not about work, but they do require work. (So many intense conversations: sorting things out, finding out how much fear colors my emotional experience.)

Trusting God: that theme keeps coming back this semester. Trust and fear, the opposites that push me back and forth. I'm afraid of judgment, afraid of failure, afraid of being a bad person--and so I keep the Sabbath as an attempted good work. Or: I trust God to take care of my work, I trust God to know what's best for me, I trust God to give me good gifts--and I keep the Sabbath as an act of intimacy with my Father in heaven.

If anxiety is really about arrogance ("this has to happen my way, and what if it doesn't?" in Oswald Chambers' model), is there an element of pride in all my fear? Is my fear the fruit of trusting my own understanding rather than God's revelation? Maybe all trust is predicated on humility. To trust someone else, even God, is to submit myself to their reasoning and decisions, to believe they know and speak the truth. To trust God means to believe His statements about Who He is ("the gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness"), rather than believing the lies about Him that my own faulty understanding spews forth.

Disenchantment

I have a passion for God and a passion for what God is doing with the small group(s) I'm leading/guiding and a passion for God to save the people I talk to. God has been leading me in new ways, and I have been listening in new ways. I just came back from a great weekend where God was so clearly present and working through Intervarsity Christian Fellowship, through the body of Christ gathered together, learning together, worshiping together.

And yet it is so hard for me to have faith in my chapter of Intervarsity. It is so hard for me to expect that I can receive or give anything at the large group gatherings. Why do I go to them? Is is routine? others' expectations? a sense of higher obligation? I can't say. Surely it's some combination of those, and other factors I can't really pin down. But as I have been freed, subtly and gradually, from the crushing sense of duty that circumscribes my actions so often, I have come to see how little I believe in the large group meetings. The fact is, I don't trust them. I don't trust that I will meet God there, I don't trust that the teaching there will be sound, I don't trust that I will even have meaningful interactions with people there.

I persist in believing and proclaiming that it is good to go there, and yet I can't say what I am so sure is good about it. Going to IV large group is an obligation for me. It is the Law: fellowship and corporate worship are good. But the Law is a burden, producing fatigue and resentment. I am not under the Law but under the Spirit, and yet the Spirit certainly has not transformed my attitudes and feelings in this area.

I used to feel that large group was good and enjoyable and that I learned things there. Now I am disenchanted with it and I can't really pin down why. I am afraid of the crowd of people, afraid of not knowing my place, afraid of judgment. And so I am afraid to give, lest everything be taken from me, and I don't even want to pray for God's blessing on the fellowship because I can't find it in myself to believe that He is present there.

Yet I know God is present, and I know He works there. I can't find it in myself, but all things are found in God. Help Thou my unbelief. Lord, teach us to pray.

TBA = to be absorbed

"If God is for us, who can be against us?": If I'm in the right place with God, does it matter whether I do well on my Arabic quiz? I've been great in language classes all my life, but that doesn't mean that who I am is the person who does well in language classes.

"You, however, are controlled not by the flesh but by the Spirit... Those who are led by the Spirit are sons of God." There isn't supposed to be a Spirit-led part of my life and a self-led part of my life (or rather, an anxious part of my life). If I really let the Spirit lead me, God will also lead me about how much sleep to get, whether it's really a good time to cook dinner, how long to study for Arabic quizzes, and whether to hang out with someone when really all I want to do is get some time to be still.

"Just a closer walk with Thee"--All I need is You, Lord, "and all these things will be added to me as well."

[This blog gives such a bipolar depiction of my life... Oh well, it's the nature of a fragmentary record.]

Waking

I woke up slowly this morning, and I woke up early. Sometimes it seems I sleep less soundly in my own bed at home than on the narrow, thin mattress at school, or on the unfamiliar and lush beds in hotels. Which bed is most "mine", though? At school, the room is lent to me, but while I have it, it is mine alone, with conflicting allegiances. At home, the bed is covered with complications like layered quilts. Memories and obligations are the walls and floor of this room. It's "my" room, but not all the memories send their roots into my past; they are "my" obligations, but all of them bind me to other people's ideas.

I woke up bound to someone else's ideas. I woke with someone else's worry tightening my shoulders. The shoulder blades lie uneasily under my skin: ready to explode into wings and feathers, ready to shift like tectonic plates, like Africa and South America in their continental dance.

I woke in the blue light, in the cloud hour. Green leaves hang from the trees outside my window, but at dawn, all the leaves were silver and blue. The little dog's barking had broken the calm of my sleep, but when I drifted to the surface, all the sharp sounds had ceased. I woke to stillness, I woke to the silver noise of the cars floating by.

I woke, and I bobbed up and down through sleepiness, till I settled at the surface, floating on the silence. Through the dark hallway, into the empty kitchen, into the cool dawn that poured through the windows: the house was asleep, and I was barely across the border into waking.

I stared down into my mug at the minute bubbles sizzling up through the tea, but the hot liquid couldn't soothe me. I stared up with inner eyes, but morning imagination failed. I saw only the ceiling.

Meditation: what am I thankful for? what do I want? So crude, to want, but in the end, I am not a creature of the dawn, with mere blue wishes and dreams: I clutch my desires with curled fingers. Where did I experience God's love? where did I ignore God's love? today, how will I allow God to lead me into tomorrow? I am thinking about a day, just one day, but 24 hours is a million moments, uncountable thousands of thoughts.

Wrapped in a blanket, I fell asleep on the couch. Later, the poodle's nose prodded me awake, and she leaned up against me. We slid into sleep, in concentric curls.

I woke again, slept again, woke, slept, bobbed in and out, till finally I washed up on the shore in the full light of day. The moon was gone, the dawn had drained away. In the kitchen, my mother and I ate marionberry pie. I opened my battered Bible and read Psalm 44 (For the director of music. Of the Sons of Korah. A maskil.): We have heard with our ears, O God; our fathers have told us what you did in their days, in days long ago. With your hand you drove out the nations and planted our fathers; you crushed the peoples and made our fathers flourish. It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you loved them.

In the light of day, in the light of your face, I cast off worry. I cast my bread upon the waters. I bade my worry sink in the lake of sleep, where the dreams lie in layers on the bottom and the silt settles on them softly. Having woken a hundred times, I woke yet again, and now I can go out to live.