Waiting: The Story of an Unringing Phone

Today I am waiting on a pretty important phone call.

And I am watching my phone like it is getting ready to explode.

Everytime I turn my head and the light catches the screen, I think it is ringing. It isn't. My mom called earlier; I almost had a coronary. I hit the trackball every few minutes to see what time it is. The longest I've gone between button hittings is nine minutes.

I'm learning a lesson about Advent.

As we wait for Christ, both as Christmas approaches and as we anticipate his final coming, may we watch the phone. May we leap when we think it is ringing. May we impatiently tap buttons to make sure it is still working.

May we want Christ to come more than anything.

The Season of Everyday

I grew up in a church that didn't keep the liturgical year at all. We celebrated Christmas and Easter, of course, but I didn't even really know anything about the holy seasons. My sister's Methodist friend taught her about Lent so she and I sort of began keeping that season but mostly because we thought it was cool and un-Baptist.

I didn't know Advent existed until I came to college. I had settled into a Baptist church in Fuquay-Varina and it was there that I first glimpsed the mysterious Advent wreath and candles. It took a little research before either of these seasons meant anything real to me.

It may be because I came to it later in life, but I love Advent and Lent. It makes Christmas and Easter so much more significant to come to the season with a prepared heart. It does me good.

I was reading this morning on a blog I enjoy, The Website of Unknowing. It's good stuff. In his most recent post, Carl writes about celebrating Christmas and Easter everyday. He begins by explaining how for monks, each day should be Lent. He writes:

"So if we are called to a continual lent in preparation of that ever-present Easter, ought not we see our lives as a time of continual advent, in watchful waiting for that ever-present Christmas? If every day is a day when the hope and love of Christ can be born anew in the hearts of those who love him, then every day is a time of expectancy and of hope. And jsut as the church commends to us advent as a time of contemplation and, yes, of joyful penitence, so we can join the monks in their continual lent by making every day of our lives a continual advent.

Let us join together, in watching and waiting for the coming of God. Let us join together in turning back to God. Let us celebrate the ever-new ways we give birth to the Divine Image in our lives, every day. And let us celebrate all the ways in which that same Divine Image breathes new life in us and through us."

Let it be so.

*Icon is "Our Lady of the Sign" and is the official icon of the archdiocese of Denver, CO.

Harder than Singing a Don Henley Song...

What is the worst thing you've ever done?

Really. The worst.

Do you believe in forgiveness? Are you the person you once were? Do you believe people can change?

Even, say, sex offenders?

This guy does. He's creating a community and a church for rehabilitated sex offenders.

I believe in forgiveness because I need it. But it is a lot harder to forgive other people, especially those who hurt people I love.

So do I really believe in forgiveness? Do I really believe people can change?

Or better yet,

would I give them the chance?

Walls

There was once a wall that divided East from West. It divided brothers and sisters, parents and children. It also divided ideas.

And twenty years ago, it was past time for the wall to come down.

So people tore it down. And the world rejoiced.

People kept pieces of the wall to remind them not to build more walls.

People didn't remember the lesson. And more walls got built.

Robert Frost said "good fences make good neighbors." I think tearing down walls can make good neighbors also.

(Image from Andreas Rentz/ Getty Images)

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven..." Matthew 5:43-45a

Bread for a Thousand

I've been thinking about this cartoon for a little while:

Steve Breen, San Diego Tribune, Oct 18, 2009

And then this morning I read about Joan and her life on the streets in Kenya. Joan is 19 and lives in Nairobi. She has a son from when she was raped at 15 but he lives with her mother. Joan sells glue to other street kids hoping to get high. She sends what she can back to her mother to help pay for her son's living expenses. Her mother doesn't know she lives on the streets. Over 60,000 children and youth live on the street in Nairobi. None of them are safe, well-fed, or remembered by a world who has tucked them into envelopes and express mailed them far away.

The world is a sad place to be.

Except when it is brought into rightness. Immediately after reading about Joan, I came across this poem by David Whyte via The Burnside Writers Collective.

This is not the age of information.

This is not

The age of information.

Forget the news,

And the radio,

And the blurred screen.

This is the time of loaves

And fishes.

People are hungry

And one good word is bread

For a thousand.

-David Whyte

Let there be bread.

Innocence

Once upon a time, in a land far away a young boy dreamed of taking off in a balloon and exploring the world from above. The boy had a big imagination and a soul that yearned for adventure. Taunting him from the back yard of his family's home was a lovely hot air balloon. The nylon material spread across the green grass laying flat like so many daydreams.

The young boy went to his father who was a wealthy inventor and a hero in the land. The boy told his father of his dream of flying in the balloon. The boy spoke of great adventures, of emerald fields and crisp blue skies. He spoke of tall buildings and sparkling cities. The inventor became excited, his brain whirling with ideas and plans for his son. He told the young boy that he could travel in three days.

The boy could barely keep still from the butterflies of thrill living in his stomach. He only had eyes for the adventure that lay behind his closed eyelids. The three days passed slowly.

Finally, the day approached and the inventor and the boy stood outside the rambling stone house, watching as one of the groundskeepers began to fill the balloon with hot air. The boy trembled with joy. "You've forgotten your hat," the inventor said. "Run inside and get it before it is time to go!" The boy darted toward the house, his feet pounding and the blood rushing in his ears. Such a silly thing to have left behind.

He dashed up the steep staircase and into his room. He thought his hat must be crammed under his bed as he laid flat on his stomach and wiggled under the bed. He caught hold of the narrow brim and slid back out from under the bed. The boy rose to his knees with his chest heaving and glanced out the window. The ripe rainbow of the balloon was taking off, 10 feet from the ground.

"No, no, no, no, no," he repeated as he retraced his hurried steps to the backyard. His face was wet before he realized he was crying. The boy leaped on the inventor as he arrived. The balloon was high now, 100 feet off the ground. "Get it back, get it back!" he screamed.

"We will," his father replied, shaking the boy off his long legs. "I need you to go into the attic and stay until I need you. I have some phone calls to make." The boy's crying stopped, his mind turning to gray.

"But I thought..." the boy began.

"I have a plan," his father said quickly, turning to the house. "Go to the attic."

Thus the young boy became an old boy. His adventures were muted and his crying muffled as he laid on an old couch in the attic, waiting to be rescued.

Pocahontas Lied

I spent last weekend in Washington state, splitting my time between the Yakama Indian Reservation and Seattle. One of our college students and I had travelled there to collect information and organize the mission trip the college students will be taking there next summer. While we were there, I spent a lot of time realizing how ignorant I am. A few reflections:

• First, AP US History really only teaches you about the history of white people. Turns out there is a much larger story whispering in our ears, crying to be heard and acknowledged.


• Most of the information I have about Native Americans came from books and movies that are not exactly reliable. ("Pocahontas" and The Indian in the Cupboard, anyone?)


• I know very little about where I come from. Immersed in a culture who continues to feel the hurts of their long-dead elders, I realized that I don't even know my great-grandparents names. There is something missing from our anchor-less culture.


• My idea of "missions" has less to do with the Body of Christ than it does with making us feel good about ourselves. What if the people that we do missions for don't actually need our hands? What if we all just need to be together?


• God is bigger than my frame of reference, my understanding of the Christian church, and my tradition. There is something powerful about recognizing the rightness of God being served in another context.

I really believe that this trip is going to be transformational. We have a lot to learn from our brothers and sisters of the Yakama nation. I encourage all of the college students to begin thinking and praying about how they can learn and grow in Washington.

My Love Returns

Have I mentioned how much I love fall? The world is happier to me when it is less steamy hot and the jewel tones of the grass, trees, and sky come out in full force. For all of you who have been complaining about it being "cold" and "gross" the last couple days, I take that personally.

I think one reason I love autumn is that it seems like a more reflective season. The world slows down just a bit. There is crisp, clear air to breathe and space to think. We need more of that.

Also, there are Halloween Oreos and fun size candy bars to think about. For some reason, a Nestle Crunch seems the most fall-ish to me.

There is also the goodness of getting to wrap up in scarves and knitted hats and fingerless gloves. Favorites.

But mostly, I guess I love the quiet, the peacefulness. The promise of winter's rest.

Hurricanes and Other Radical Changes

We are, my friends, on the cusp of a worldchanging shift. This revolutionary shift will change the way the world thinks and lives. It is called postmodernism. Many of you are feeling uneasy after reading these three sentences. You aren't sure what postmodernism means, but it sounds dumb because what comes after modern? Others of you are thinking, "Well, yeah." This is because you are postmodern. Neither modern or postmodern is better by any means, but they are distinctively different. Different ways of thinking and viewing the world.

We don't really know what it means yet, this word or the ideas that caused the neologist to be so uninspired in his or her work. Nonetheless, the ground is beginning to tremor under our feet. Now, the tremors will probably not turn into a full earthquake until we're all dead, but there is something going on now. You know this to be true. The world is not what it was 100, 75, or even 50 years ago.

Yesterday Brian McLaren, a popular Christian author and speaker was at my school talking about some of these issues. He is one of the leading voices on Christian postmodernism. He compared cultural shifts such as this one to hurricanes that block roads, reroute rivers, and change the topography of an area.

Today I was reading in the news and I came across this article from CNN. There was a earthquake and resulting tsunami yesterday that affected American Samoa, Samoa, and Tonga. In case you don't know where that are is, it is here:

According to CNN, American Samoa is a very closely bound area. The people have all begun to work together to rebuild, replant, replace, and most importantly, to mourn. A 29 year old iReporter named Manefaiga Lagafuaina writes, "That's how we operate over here in American Samoa- basically everyone is related."

I was thinking of this seismic shift begining among us. I pray that we will weather the storm with unity and love as the Samoans have.

Let it be so.

Iraqi Christians

According to this article from the New York Times by Campbell Robertson, the Iraqi struggle right now, is particularly difficult for Christians.

In recent years, half of the Christian population of Iraq has fled, leaving the poorest and weakest Christians behind. Most Iraqi Christians live in the northern province of Nineveh (yes, that Nineveh that Jonah visited). In 2003, America brought security forces from Kurdistan into the region to protect people. Now there is strife between the Kurdish government and the Iraqi government- whose land is it? As if that were not enough, the conflict continues between the Sunni and Shiite leaders.

In addition, theological debates divide the Christians. Since the Americans came in 2003, new Protestant churches have been planted in the region. There are now Baptist, Assembly of God, and Pentecostal churches who can't seem to get along with the older Christian churches- Catholic and Orthodox.

The leaders seem untrustworthy. There is no money. People are escaping like rats in a burning building.

One Christian human rights advocate in Baghdad commented, "In the long term I think Iraq will be very good, but when this time comes the Iraqi Christians will be finished. Our identity will be gone."

Pray for our brothers and sisters in Iraq. They struggle in ways unbelievable to us. Pray. Find a way to help.

*My information came from "Christian Soldiers," by Campbell Robertson. This article can be found at http://atwar.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/04/christian-soldiers/?scp=1&sq=christian&st=cse.

The Valley Song

You know how sometimes you hear a song that you haven't heard in a while and the goodness of it hits you in the face? I was listening to "The Valley Song" by Jars of Clay this afternoon and well, wow. Last week I quoted someone who said "Show Me What I'm Looking For" by Carolina Liar was "the most spiritually honest song [he'd] heard in a long time." I think "The Valley Song" is right there with it.


You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised, nearly broken
I'm crying out to You.

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy.

When death, like a gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens,
I will still seek your face.
But I fear You aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness
And the hunger
For a faith that assures.

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy.

Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia

While we wait for rescue
With our eyes tightly shut,
Face to the ground using our hands
To cover the fatal cut.
Though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters,
Higher mountains have come down.

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy
I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy
Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia



There is this moment in the last chorus when the lead vocalist is singing those lines, "I will sing of Your mercy that leads me through valleys of sorrow to rivers of joy." And then the music stops. There is a long pause and he sings, "Yeah." You can hear the intention there. He is making the decision to sing to God despite everything. He has decided and the decision convinces him of the truth. It's for real.

To Look Like You

If you watch any kind of celebrity gossip television shows or read the news online, you probably already know that Tyra Banks revealed her real hair to the studio audience of her self-titled talk show yesterday.

Yes, you read that correctly. She showed her real hair. Gasp!

To me, this is yet another reminder of how we are always in the process of becoming something we're not. It receives massive media coverage for a celebrity to reveal what her hair looks like sans weave or wig. Something here seems just a bit off to me.

Everyday I run through a 15 minute regimen of applying lotion, cover-up, foundation, powders, perfumes, and lots and lots of hair product (believe me, this 'fro is not easy to handle!). However, compared to many women I know, I am doing the bare minimum.

Now, certainly I am not advocating that we stop wearing makeup or doing our hair but I do wonder what it would take for us to be a little bit more comfortable with ourselves. Do we have to live in a world where it is a big deal for us to reveal our real hair? Should real hair make CNN?!

Are you comfortable in your skin? Why or why not? Would you leave the house with no makeup? Gentlemen, this applies to you too- some of you are just as prissy as any girls!

Why is it such a big deal to just be natural? To look like...you?

Honesty.

A few months ago (maybe January?) I started hearing a new song on VH1's Jumpstart in the mornings. (Aside: Back in the day when I had TV I got ready every morning while VH1 played music videos on my television. For the most part, it was stuff not yet on the radio and it was a good way for me to wake up.) Anyway, for some reason, this song kind of stuck with me and I would find myself humming it throughout the day and getting excited when they played it. You've probably heard it by now; it is on the radio. "Show Me What I'm Looking For" by Carolina Liar?

One of the bloggers I read occasionally called it "one of the most spiritually honest songs I've heard in a while." He also analyzes it a bit more deeply than I plan to, so go read that post. My point is that every time I hear it I think, "Yes." The reality is that each one of us is flawed, broken, confused, and crying out. Sometimes we don't even know what it is we need. Here are the lyrics:

Wait, I'm wrong
Should have done better than this.
Please, I'll be strong,
I'm finding it hard to resist.
So show me what I'm looking for

CHORUS
Save me, I'm lost.
Oh Lord, I've been waiting for you.
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused.
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for...oh, Lord.

Don't let go
I've wanted this far too long
Mistakes become regrets
I've learned to love abuse
Please show me what I'm looking for

CHORUS

Save me, I'm lost
Oh Lord, I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost,
Just save me from being confused.
Wait, I'm wrong
I can't do better than this.
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for
Show me what I'm looking for...oh, Lord.

So many of us are really kind of lost, even as believers. May we all have to courage to be honest rather than spitting back the "Sunday school" answers.

Lost in Translation

Many of you own and use New International Version translations of the Bible. Have you ever thought about why? Or what is involved in the process of Bible translating? As a student of both Hebrew and Greek (not Aramaic!) believe me when I say that a "good" translation is incredibly difficult. There is so much that has changed in the 2,700 years since the first texts were written. It is enough to make this girl want to run far away from the original texts and simply be contented to let others do the work or translation. Except that is such a bad idea. As a reader of the text, as a follower of Christ and a minister of the gospel, it is my (our) responsibility to make sure that the people who translate professionally are doing good work, marked with integrity.

I mentioned the NIV because the Committee on Bible Translation (CBT), part of Biblica who owns the NIV announced yesterday their intention to release a new, updated version of the NIV. The NIV has been updated (both by a new version and other offshoot versions) several times since its initial 1978 publication. These updates include the 1984 edition of the NIV (Trinity's pew Bibles), the New International Reader's Version, the New International Version Inclusive (published only in the UK and includes gender inclusive language), and Today's New International Version (published in 2002 with gender inclusive language). Most of you probably use the 1984 version of the NIV.

In 2011, however, a new New International Version (NIV 2011) will be available for purchase. Today's New International Version will be discontinued, as the publisher says, because it "divided the evangelical Christian community," namely, with its gender inclusive language. Also, the TNIV had poor sales.

Many questions abound at this point. Will the CBT continue to pursue gender-inclusive language? Has the CBT retrenched in order to please the heavy handed, money-driven forces behind Bible publishing? Will the NIV 2011 be a better translation or just better selling?

We shall see.

Usurpers

Recently, I read an article on CNN.com about some patent applications that were submitted recently by Bill Gates and some other scientists. The technology protected by these patents would be used to move cold air from low in the ocean to the top of the ocean, cooling the surface water temperature and ultimately slowing and weakening hurricanes. Large barges would run two conduits to move the water. They would stand in the path of strong storms and cool the warm water hurricanes need to grow and move.

A lot of scientists don't really think this plan would work. However, the science is not necessarily what I find interesting. I'm marvelling, I suppose, at the fact that once again, humankind (thinks they) can control nature. We make quick business of blasting through rocks or removing mountains. We plant where there is nothing but rocks, we harvest where there is nothing but forest.

It reminds me a bit of a story. A story of a group of people who wanted to build a high tower to gain power and prestige for themselves. Their urge to usurp power from the Most High God left them scattered. I wonder what will be the ultimate result of our usurpation.

Big Thoughts Swirling

So, wow. It's been kind of a long time. And I apologize for that. I'm not really sure what happened in the last two weeks, but evidently, it didn't include any blogging.

I started reading The Divine Commodity by Skye Jethani last week. In large part, it is about the Consumer-driven Christianity that we've all bought into on some level. The basic idea is that we have modelled our churches, our relationships with one another, and even our relationships with God after the broken, ungraceful image of the business world. I think Jethani, like many others who have pointed this out, is right. We're missing a lot of the Major, the Divine, the Infinite because we're awfully busy with the false god who provides us with therapy and booster shots.

But there is something inside all of us that cries out for more, right? We're aware of it. Even you, here on this blog, have told me over the past two years that you know there is more, you just can't seem to find it. Jethani says we've lost our imagination and this is what keeps us focused on the small.

I think we all really want to find our identity, one that is not related to our individuality, but to our relation to the Holy One.

What if it is all right there, at the furthest point of our imagination, past the boundaries of our skulls? What if, by stripping away the jargon, the business models, the programming, the guilt, and the shame and clinging to the artistic, the lovely, the bold, and the authentic, we could find ourselves?

I'm only on chapter two. I'll let you know how it goes.

Shameless Self-Promotion!

Today was the first day of our Pentateuch intensive and I would deem it a success. We contended with the fact that Moses didn't write Genesis through Deuteronomy as well as the certainty that those books are a hodgepodge of documents from a variety of sources. We talked about when things were probably written and how the literary genre of a section informs the way we read it. We discussed the crazy beautiful liturgy of creation.

And we want you to be around for the next four days of study! In the coming days we will examine God's covenants, the stories of the Patriarchs, themes within the books, the Exodus, keeping kosher, and many other topics.

I hope that you will consider joining us as we examine what is actually in the scripture rather than what we think is there. We'll be in the Underground every day this week from 10:00 to 12:30.

brokenness

"Our brokenness is a better bridge to others than our pretend wholeness will ever be." -Sheila Walsh

Why can't we just be real, authentic, and broken together? What is holding us back? Whatever it is, it isn't Jesus.

To the holy places

In a movie I watched this weekend, one of the protagonists asked the girl he liked if she likes music. She replied that asking if someone enjoys music is like asking if someone enjoys food. She looked at him as if he had suddenly grown a second nose. We all like music, buddy.

There is always, always music playing around me. In the car, in my apartment. Even now, in the church office, I'm listening to Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis. There is some music that touches our souls. It takes advantage of the thin places and brings a bit of the Kingdom of God on earth. I believe that. There is certainly music that is conducive to praying and meditating.

I like Jeff Johnson (I have his Vespers album). I'm growing quite fond of The Album Leaf. Caedmon's Call, Jars of Clay, David Crowder Band and Derek Webb will always have a special place in my heart although I can get distracted by the lyrics.

I would like very much to know what music speaks to you. Even though my iTunes account doesn't thank me for it, I am always looking for some music that speaks. Please share.

Letting it Go

Yesterday I read this article by Shawn Tully, editor-at-large at CNN Money, regarding potential losses of freedom under the health care reforms being discussed in congress this week. Tully outlines each blow to personal freedom, including the "freedom to choose what's in your plan," "freedom to be rewarded for healthy living, or pay your real costs," "freedom to choose high-deductible coverage," "freedom to keep your existing plan," and "freedom to choose your doctors."

Perhaps you are enraged by these new bills. Maybe you don't care; or like me, you don't entirely understand it all. My Facebook MiniFeed and Twitter account are splattered with opinions on health care reform and it is being bandied about by all the news agencies. Everyone is talking about gaining the freedom to afford health care or conversely, losing freedoms to the governmental bureaucracy.

I'm wondering this morning, if we ought not be more worried about the spiritual freedoms that many of us willingly relinquish on a regular basis.

There are four freedoms that are frequently used to distinguish Baptists. These were outlined by Walter Shurden and arguably are defining points for the Baptist identity. They are:

• Soul Freedom: The soul is able to be the independent decision maker and should do that without any coercion from any outside force.
• Church Freedom: Each local church gets to make autonomous decisions for itself and cannot be dictated to by any governing body.
• Bible Freedom: Each individual gets to read and interpret the Bible for him/herself using the best available study resources.
• Religious Freedom: Each individual has the right to choose to practice or not practice whatever religion he or she desires.

I believe in these four freedoms. I think that they not only typify our Baptist heritage and identity, but they are good common sense. To me, they are part of discipleship.

And what I'm wondering today is why we live as if we care more about threats to our freedom regarding our insurance than preserving our soul, church, Bible, and religious freedoms.

For my nephew, on his way

The whole earth is full of his glory.
You are his glory.
You are the kavod, the weight, the significance.
Little one, you keep the earth spinning;
Whirling for him.

It gets muddled and mired in the burden of living,
but you, little one, are good.
Created in his image, you are.

You will add to the dark but you can choose light.
Your tiny hands will destroy and build.
Break and create.
Confuse and clarify.

It will be cloudy, this living, even as you add to the light.
Carry it with you- you are good, holy.
You are the kavod.

Jo March and me

I've been rough edges and loud laughter my whole life. I spent a couple awkward adolescent years trying to not be a ladylike reproduction of Victorian propriety. My friends and I would have girls-only burping contests (with a bit of Dr. Pepper, I was a front runner). I have always most easily identified with Jo from Little Women moreso than Beth, Meg, or certainly prissy Amy. I break things a lot and I like to play with fire. I am sometimes sarcastic and caustic. I hurt feelings. I guess I used to think that being gentle just couldn't be me.

Something I am learning is that gentleness does not require being a china doll (gentleman readers, aren't you terribly glad?). 1 Timothy 6:11 tells us to pursue gentleness. It is also part of the fruit of the Spirit. Right up there with love and faithfulness. They aren't messing around with this gentleness stuff.

I particularly love what Philippians 4:5 says about gentleness though, "Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near." Perhaps it is simply my own reading, but I understand that phrase to say, "God is right here. You don't have to yell. Stop being obnoxious."

I need this reminder everyday and maybe you do to. Be gentle. Not prim and proper, just gentle. Meek, mellow, and kind-hearted.

Kentucky, pt. 2

Anna* is 16 years old. She’s overweight and ridiculed harshly at school. We came into contact with her through the truancy officer; she doesn’t go because the kids are mean. They treat her as if she is not a human. Her family is very poor and can’t afford to buy her clothes and what she has does not fit her well. But her eyes sparkle and she has a lovely smile. She is hungry for positive attention and acceptance.

I was not with the girls who took Anna shopping. I did not get to watch her try on clothes that were stylish and fit her body. I did not see her pose for pictures in her new favorite jeans. But I saw her smile when she and her new-found friends came to our cookout that afternoon. She was radiant. She glowed with the happiness of new friends and a pinch of self-confidence.

The new clothes were not the agent of change in Anna. The relationships worked all that magic. She moved with the grace of someone who is becoming comfortable with herself. She met my eyes when I introduced myself and I could tell that a seismic shift had occurred in her soul. Anna had more than bags of new clothes- she had friends and hope, perhaps for the first time ever.

*names have been changed

Kentucky, pt. 1

I haven’t washed my hair since we got back from Kentucky. Beyond simply having hair that doesn’t need washed everyday, I think I haven’t because a small part of me doesn’t want to wash Kentucky away from me entirely. I don’t want my experiences there to be physically washed away from me. The faces and stories linger, more fragrant than the moist stench of Downtown Inn and Suites.

I carry Cody (a 7 year old girl with huge milk chocolate eyes) and Jacob (her brother, 10, who repeatedly told me how pretty I was) with me. I carry my prayers for them like infants because Cody and Jacob are so in need of love and gentleness.

I have never smelled as bad as I did the last day we left their house. The filth of their home, coupled with mildew, cigarette smoke, and urine assailed me each time I crossed their threshold. Sweat trickled down the small of my back as we assembled a new bed for Jacob and I made his bed with new, clean sheets. The three of us later sat on Jacob’s new bed as I asked them if they knew why I was there. Cody looked at me, her sparkling eyes straight into mine. “You really love me,” she said simply. I explained to her that she was exactly right and that even greater than my love was Jesus’ love for her.

We returned to their house once more, later that evening to bring the kids some final special treats. I had promised we would return. As we pulled into their yard, Cody and Jacob flew out of their house. “You didn’t lie! You didn’t lie!” Cody bellowed.

I wondered, as I choked back tears, who had lied to her in the past. I wonder and pray if we did enough. I have hope for those children. I hope more than anything that they will know how much I didn’t lie to them.

Muzzled

I have always believed that God is not in the business of forcing us. I think that truth is pretty well illustrated by the fact that we all know people who have chosen to not believe or who have turned away from their faith. I don't think that the Giver of freedom is big on locking us into a structured, unmoving set of beliefs.

But sometimes other Christians make me feel that way.

Sometimes my brothers and sisters in Christ want me to just say what they want to hear and nothing else. Sometimes there is not room to express my thoughts, doubts, fears, and questions. No one wants to hear them. I will be judged if I say these things out loud. I will be condemned as unfaithful.

I would like for all of us to take a moment to consider all the things we cannot say in church. Now say it. Outloud. Leave a comment, or don't; but just say something. Don't be afraid.

I'll start: I think that what we do matters way more than what we say and I think we talk way too much. I sometimes want to tell people that they don't get to have an opinion if they aren't willing to do the work to fix the problem. And I want to yell at them for being so narrow.

Thinking

I re-read one of my favorite YA books (Seventeen Against the Dealer by Cynthia Voight, in case you wondered) earlier this week and it got me to thinking about thinking. The main character, Dicey, learns by the end of the book that becoming an adult doesn't mean she's finished learning or even that she is off the hook of critical thinking. She's a really straight-forward girl and she has a plan. It isn't immediately obvious to her that she still has to function on a higher mental plane.

Anyway, this all lead me to thinking about us. How often, really, do we think about what we believe, who we are, who God is, how the world works, etc.? I think sometimes we get caught just putting one foot in front of the other without looking at the mechanics. We miss a lot. We ignore the glittering pebbles of the riverbed when we just wade downstream.

I trudged through algebra because my teachers told me it would teach me to think. I'd hate to waste all that fine education on pure mental laziness!

Extravagant

Sometimes it is really easy to forget that people are watching us. And they know we're Christians and they're judging us. It is unpopular to say things like that. But it is true. Check out this story from CNN.

(Image from CNN)

In short, a robber comes in to a store and asks for money. The owner pulls out a gun. While trying to convince the owner to not call the police, the robber reveals that he has no money and is out of food. The owner (a Muslim) gives the thief $40 and a loaf of bread. The robber decides that this Muslim man is so good, he ought to become a Muslim also. He converts.

I wonder how often our extravagant mercy and grace show the world how Christ has changed us. Probably not very often.

I wonder when the last time was that someone could see Jesus' love through me...

community

I've been thinking a lot about community lately. Let's break down the word and see if it reveals anything about the meaning:

Commu

Nity

The word parts are a mystery, and thus, so is community (just kidding, and yes, I stole that from a Jack Handy "Deep Thought.")

Actually, since I moved I've been praying that God would lead me to a solid community of believers. I need some friends that I can serve and who will support me. I think it is coming, slowly but surely. I am glad for this. I also have a friend who is working to develop a New Monastic/Intentional Community. I've been thinking through a lot of these issues as I've observed his efforts.

I know that we were created for community. Anything less than living fully invested in those around you (and being invested in return) is simply a shell. I also believe that community is more than your insulated, homogenous family structure. Community should be diverse and beautiful. It should point back to the imaginative nature of creation. It should be safe, long-term, healthy, and most of all, loving. This is what God wants for us. This is a one cell of the body of Christ. It is beautiful.

And I want it for myself. And for you.

Act

You know the Sermon on the Mount? Have you ever noticed how it ends? Jesus had been talking about who is blessed in the Kingdom of God, the way believers are supposed to act, the way we're supposed to love our enemies, the way to give, the way to pray, what not to worry about, and not judging. He talks about some other things too. And then it ends with this:

"Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell- and great was its fall!" (Mt. 7:24-27, emphasis mine)

Probably you know what I'm getting at here. We always talk about this passage in the sense of building a firm foundation of right beliefs. Knowing scripture and knowing right from wrong is the strong foundation, right? Um. Read again.

Jesus says that what will preserve the wise person is acting upon his words. Living out the entire Sermon on the Mount. Every word. Beliving these things, knowing them and understanding them? Not enough.

I love it when Jesus makes things a bit more difficult than we wish he would...

Jealous Kind

"Jealous Kind" by Jars of Clay

I built another temple to a stranger
I gave away my heart to the rushing wind
I set my course to run right into danger
Sought the company of fools instead of friends

You know I've been unfaithful
Lovers in lines
While you're turning over tables with the rage of a jealous kind
I chose the gallows to the aisle
Thought that love would never find
Hanging ropes will never keep you
And your love of a jealous kind
Love of a jealous kind

Trying to jump away from rock that keeps on spreading
For solace in the shift of the sinking sand
I'd rather feel the pain all too familiar
Than to be broken by a lover I don't understand
'Cause I don't understand

One hundred other lovers, more, one hundred other altars
If I should slow my pace and finally subject me to grace
And love that shames the wise, betrays the heart's deceit and lies
And breaks the back of foolish pride

God calls himself a jealous God (see, for example, Exodus 20:5). God wants us, only us, and fully. He wants our complete selves. No idols, no piles of money, no overflowing closets, no baggage, no strings binding us to other things. God wants our souls to come to him.

We bait God, I think. We provoke his jealousy a thousand times a day when we chose anything over him.

Too Many Words

Friends, I am convicted and confused.

St. Francis of Assisi once said, "Preach the gospel at all times, if necessary, use words." 1 John 3:18 says, "Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action."

I think we talk too much. I think I talk too much.

It is easy for us to think that these words mean that we should believe what we are saying, meaning, don't say something if you really don't have a heart for whatever your talking about. But I think perhaps they're a bit more literal. Maybe Francis and John mean what they say. Stop talking and do something.

I'm tired of talking all the time. I'm not sure that a ministry of words is much good to anyone.

Satan Stuff

I think that one of the most effective ways in which Satan works is by feeding us lies about who we are. We begin to rip ourselves apart, doubting every aspect of identity until we are thoroughly convinced that we are not able to do the task God has laid out in front of us. He's tricky, that Satan.

A few examples:

You aren't smart enough.
You aren't pretty enough.
You are a failure.
You never get anything right.
You're embarassing.
People are only nice to you because they feel bad for you.
Everyone can see right through you.
You don't have enough money.
You really aren't good at this.

Sometimes (more often than I would like to admit) I believe the lies. I succomb to all of my painful insecurities and I fall flat on my face. Sometimes I just give up and walk away, convinced that I cannot be the right person for the job.

Sometimes I fight back and my head bobs high enough out of the surging waters to catch a breath. I gain a bit of perspective.

What do you do when you are attacked by your insecurities? How do you fight against the things Satan throws at you?

Oh, dear.

I had an interesting conversation with someone this week. Here is the question I raised:

How would your parents react if you announced that God had called you into full-time vocational missions and you would be leaving for Zimbabwe (or some other developing, unstable nation)soon?

Readers who are parents, please tell us how you would honestly feel if your child told you they were leaving for Africa.

I have a feeling that honest answers would be surprising, interesting, and perhaps a bit difficult. Please comment! I really want to know what you think would happen.

Evangelicals and Torture

A recent study released by the Pew Forum has found that more white, American evangelical Protestants believe the use of torture against suspected terrorists is often or sometimes justified than any other religious demographic.

I have my opinion on this issue but I also recognize that it is far more complicated than a simple yes or no. It is more than a pithy iteration of "Who would Jesus torture?". There are so many factors that play into this question and I fear that some of those are less lily-white than working to save other lives.

I wonder how we would react if say, rather than waterboarding, the government flogged and hung suspected terrorists from a cross?

Thoughts?

Patient Zero

So, at this point we've all been sufficiently briefed and terrified about the swine flu, right? If not, go to your favorite news source and get the details. We'll wait.

Officials in Mexico believe that they have identified "Patient Zero," that is, the person who first contracted the virus. He is five years old and his name is Edgar. Although he was sick with the deadly flu, he survived with the help of ice cream, he says (obviously no disagreement from me).

Edgar got me to thinking about another who contracted a deadly illness that spread all over the world. His name was Adam though, and he lived kind of a long time ago.

Romans 5:12 says, "Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death came through sin, and so death spread to all because all have sinned." Adam's (and Eve's) sin pervaded human nature. There was no escaping sin after them. In the same way that swine flu came from this one innocent little boy and has spread throughout the world, sin started with one and clouded over all humanity.

Ah, but here is the beauty, Romans 5:17 explains, "If, because of the one man's trespass, death exercised dominion through that one, much more surely will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness exercise dominion in life through the one man, Jesus Christ."

Amen.

Bunny

I'm eating a bunny right now. Chocolate of course, left over from Easter. It's funny how long ago Easter seems today. The one and a half weeks could be any amount of time away. It could be two thousand and nine years ago for all the distance between the event and where I am right now.

We are an Easter people. I believe that. Yet I wonder, how do we keep the Easter spirit alive? How do we live into our identity as Easter people? We're taught that Christmas spirit looks like decorating and cocoa and generosity and a thrill of hope. But what does Easter spirit look like?

I think we might be a little bit like these eaten bunnies. We're almost there, but we're missing just a bit and that makes us incomplete.

Beauty

Have you seen this video? (I'm sure you have. Everyone is sharing it.) Susan Boyle, the frumpy and caterpillar-eyebrowed lady in the video shocks the Britain's Got Talent audience by singing beautifully, with strength and unabashed pride. And everyone oohs and ahhs because how could such this voice come from that woman?

The crowd looks around bewildered and shrieks with surprise. Tears well in the judges' eyes and they pronounce her to be one of the best they've ever seen. The hosts convey their shock to the home audience.

This woman, who everyone thought was completely useless and pathetic (she says she's never been kissed!), suddenly has value.

Wait. Why do we feel as if Ms. Boyle is a joke until she proves otherwise? Why is her sin of homeliness only redeemed by her great talent? Why do the audience, the judges, the hosts, and even some of us find such glee in being surprised that this woman is a real person with real value?

Why do we act like she is nothing until she is something?

I thank you, Ms. Boyle, not only for sharing your lovely voice, but for also giving us a tangible reminder of the fact that we are desperately broken.

Help us, loving God, to see people as you see them.

Hopeful Things

Today, with the scent of fresh blooms in the air and good songs on the radio, I realized that I am nothing but hopeful.

I am letting go of all of my self-doubt, frustration, disappointment, fear, sarcasm and bitterness.

I am choosing to be faithful, and more so, hopeful. A few things that make me hopeful...

My first dandelion of spring.

Beauty in surprising places (like a pollen-filled puddle).

...and the sweet, heavy smell of wild flowers in the trees.

For what are you hopeful? What is keeping you looking forward?

Blessings, friends, of beauty, peace, and hope eternal.

Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.

Pleasure in Toil

If I look out the door, across the hall, and out the window, I can see naked tree limbs growing green buds. It is spring. It is also National Poetry Month, Keep America Beautiful Month, National Mathematics Education Month, and International Guitar Month. Today is April Fool’s Day. It is Wednesday, one of the two weekdays I spend in the office. I have a long list of things that I need to get done today, mostly school related. I am preparing to move.

Sometimes our days are so full of activities and labels that the day (and then days) passes in a blur. One day is indistinguishable from the others.

I want my days to be special. I want to celebrate and enjoy this time while I have it. However, I am the first to fall into the trap of distraction.

The book of Ecclesiastes says, "I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil."

That said, what do you do to find a balance between getting everything done and enjoying your life? How do you "take pleasure in all [your] toil?"

Marked Doorposts

Then Moses called all the elders of Israel and said to them, ‘Go, select lambs for your families, and slaughter the passover lamb. Take a bunch of hyssop, dip it in the blood that is in the basin, and touch the lintel and the two doorposts with the blood in the basin. None of you shall go outside the door of your house until morning. For the Lord will pass through to strike down the Egyptians; when he sees the blood on the lintel and on the two doorposts, the Lord will pass over that door and will not allow the destroyer to enter your houses to strike you down. You shall observe this rite as a perpetual ordinance for you and your children. When you come to the land that the Lord will give you, as he has promised, you shall keep this observance. And when your children ask you, “What do you mean by this observance?” you shall say, “It is the passover sacrifice to the Lord, for he passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt, when he struck down the Egyptians but spared our houses.” And the people bowed down and worshipped.

The Israelites went and did just as the Lord had commanded Moses and Aaron.

Exodus 12:21-28 (NRSV)

For many Christians, the Passover narrative in Exodus is simply a relic of Jewish history. However, in our hasty glance over the story, we miss a great deal. We miss our first salvation story.

The book of Exodus records the story of the Israelites escaping the bondage of slavery and eventually finding their way through the desert to the land chosen for them by God. The book, and our focal passage, has clearly been pieced together by various editors throughout history. Exodus 12:21-28 reflects influence from a variety of sources. Prior to the events of the narrative found in our passage, Moses had been unsuccessfully working to have Pharaoh release the Israelites from their slavery. Chapters 11 and 12 of Exodus detail the events surrounding the final plague, the death of the first born sons and cattle of Egypt. Exodus 12:21-28 recounts Moses passing on the instructions he received from the Lord (found in Exodus 12:1-20) that would prevent the destroyer from killing the Israelite firstborns.

Verses 21-22 require believers to kill a lamb and spread its blood on the frame of the door of their houses. The elders are told to use hyssop, a plant commonly found in religious rituals, to spread the blood. It is interesting that the elders have no direct contact with the blood because the law later explained that touching blood would render one “unclean.”
An important and mysterious character, “the destroyer” enters the story in verse 23. There is no mention of the destroyer, or angel of death, when God explains what is going to happen to Moses in 12:12. The same word is used in 2 Samuel 24:15-17 and 2 Kings 19:32-37, both examples of punishment.

Moses details to the elders Passover will be commemorated in future years in verses 24-27. Interestingly, after the first Passover, the holy day was probably never observed the same way again. Modern Jews, with the exception of Samaritan Jews, do not use blood in their service at all. Instead, they hold a symbolic meal with specific food and prayers to remember the first Passover.

Verse 28 concludes Moses’ instructions to the elders. This small piece of narration confirms that the people did indeed follow through on the commands given them. It also segues into the next section which continues narrating the events of the final plague of Egypt, where all of the first born sons of humans and cattle are indeed killed.

We have an important lesson to learn from our Jewish friends. The memory of those people extends far beyond even their own lifetime. Jonathan Safron Foer, a popular Jewish author, explains that Jews have a sixth sense of memory.[1] They ask themselves, “What does it remember like?”[2] Christians, however, have largely forgotten their salvation event. Not only do we lose the beautiful significance of our individual salvation stories, but we also have misplaced the stories of our salvation as a people, before Jesus came. Walter Brueggemann writes “Christians, like Jews, are children of these marked door posts…children of this hurried bread…”[3]

We must remember that God has been active throughout history saving humanity, saving us, for this time. As you brush the dust off the story of your first salvation, take a deep breath, and remember.

[1] Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated (New York: Perennial, 2003), 198.
[2] Ibid., 199.
[3] Walter Brueggemann, “Exodus,” The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary: Vol. 1, (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994), 779.

I would like to hear your salvation story. Share with us in the comments please.

"If this is the worst thing that happens...

...we'll make it through." I feel like that has become the catchphrase of my life. I've said it countless times recently, to friends, family, myself. In this fallen world in which we live, there is no avoiding the pain and suffering that will eventually come. Our lives just explode.

Sometimes we feel more like Esau than Jacob.

I am learning an important lesson though. It's one of those things I can't quite wrap my brain around, but I know it is true. The good or bad things in our lives do not mean that God does or does not love us.

Thus far, 2009 has probably been one of the most difficult years of my life. Yet despite all of the small explosions in my life, I am more confident in God's love and care than ever. It isn't because everything has magically worked out or because I'm seeing rainbows. It is because I am not alone.

Faith breeds faith. There doesn't have to be a light at the end of the tunnel. If this is the worst thing that happens, we'll make it through.

Strings

Relationships are funny, aren't they? We're all very aware of the strings that bind us to one another and also bind us to doing the things we think are right in a given situation. For instance, my friend got engaged yesterday. As soon as she told me, I automatically knew the questions I had to ask. (When? How? What does your ring look like?)

We know what we're supposed to say or do to cultivate relationships.

The funny thing is though, sometimes these rules hold us back, and we're not cultivating relationships. We cultivate facades of relationships. There are questions we want to ask or things we need to say, that we don't because we're afraid of causing tension or awkwardness or anger in our relationship. When was the last time you asked someone if he/she is truly happy? Or if she is healthy (physically, emotionally, spiritually)? When was the last time you asked how he is with God?

There is this level of detachment and politeness that we think we owe to one another. But we're wrong. Romans 13:8-10 says, "Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments 'You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet"; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law."

Love means being honest and open. Love means asking difficult questions and wrestling with difficult answers. Love is walking with someone through the valley of the shadow of death. And being able to talk about it.

Questions

I was reading a blog I read and I came across a list of questions. Real, honest, reflective questions. I'm going to copy them on here and add a few of my own. Pick a couple and answer them. You can make up a name if you want to be anonymous. I'd like to read your answers. I'll answer some myself down in the comments.

1. What do I wish to be remembered for?
2. Is this really as good as it gets?
3. How was it that I could be so successful, so fortunate, and yet so frustratingly unfulfilled?
4. If your life was absolutely perfect, how would it look to you?
5. What is my passion?
6. How am I wired?
7. Where do I belong?
8. What will I do about what I believe?
9. Who am I?
10. What do I value?
11. What gifts has God given me? How can I use them?
12. What would I be willing to die for?
13. What injustices do I see in the world, that I simply cannot stomach anymore?
14. What is it about my life that makes me feel trapped?
15. When you are in bed at night staring at the ceiling, what questions are you asking yourself?
16. Where is God working in my life?
17. What what parts of myself am I uncomfortable?

Plans

"Table for Two" by Caedmon's Call (from the album 40 Acres)

Danny and I spent another late night over pancakes,
Talkin' 'bout soccer
And how every man's just the same
We made speculation
On the who's and the when's of our futures
And how everyone's lonely
But still we just couldn't complain

And how we just hate being alone
Could I have missed my only chance
And now I'm just wasting my time
By looking around

But you know I know better
I'm not gonna worry 'bout nothing
Cause if the birds and the flowers survive
Then I'll make it okay
I'm given a chance and a rock
see which one breaks a window
See which one keeps me up all night and into the day

Because I'm so scared of being alone
That I forget what house I live in
But it's not my job to wait by the phone
For her to call

Well this day's been crazy
But everything's happened on schedule
from the rain and the cold
To the drink that I spilled on my shirt
'Cause You knew how You'd save me before I fell dead in the garden
And You knew this day long before You made me out of dirt

And You know the plans that You have for me
And You can't plan the end and not plan the means
And so I suppose I just need some peace
Just to get me to sleep.

I've always loved this song. Especially these last lines. I so often get caught up in my own ideas and plans and fail to consult God. Other times, I'm so stressed about how everything is going to work out that I lose sight of the fact that God is in control. What insightful words to sing in my head this afternoon...

focusing

I am an extraordinarily distracted person. At any given moment, my brain is whirling in 33 different directions, like pennies rolling on their sides across a floor. If we're talking and I keep glancing away, it isn't because I have a hard time with eye contact. It's because something else caught my attention. And gosh, I'm sorry.

I hate that about myself. It is genuinely difficult for me to pay attention and truly focus on something or someone. I don't want to make any ADD excuses for myself because really, I think it is my own fault (not to illegitimize people who truly do struggle with ADD or ADHD, that is real. I do not have it.).

There is some kind of war going on around us, I think. So many things vying for our attention that we cannot think straight. Can't think in complete sentences.

Paying attention to people is a spiritual discipline, one I need to develop. I wonder, in a Screwtape Letters fashion, how much of my distraction is the result of evil forces in the world? Do I fall into the trap of meandering thoughts because someone else is trying to make it difficult for me to focus on other people and on God? Or am I just lazy and selfish?

Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh ME?

So I was reading in Ecclesiastes and I came across these verses, "For the fate of humans and the fate of animals is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and humans have no advantage over the animals; for all is vanity. All go to one place; all are from the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knows whether the human spirit goes upward and the spirit of animals goes downward to the earth?" (Ecclesiastes 3:19-21)

The author of Ecclesiastes is explaining that human life is brief, meaningless, and a mystery. In these particular verses, he wants to explain that really, our lives are not any more important than the lives of animals. The point is that we are all born, we breathe the same oxygen for our duration on earth, and then our bodies die and rot away. He adds, who even knows that animals don't have an afterlife? (Maybe All Dogs DO go to Heaven!)

So what say ye? Are humans and animals equal? Does the squirrel I ran over last week matter just as much as me? Or is the author of Ecclesiastes just saying that human life is meaningless?

Maybe this explains why I get so depressed at zoos...because I am actually thinking of myself being forced into a cage...

Warriors and Peacemakers

I like that God calls us to peace. I like that we are to sow unity and reap kindness. I like it when everyone gets along.

When I was a kid, my sisters (I'm the middle) would beat me up. They could be pretty brutal and I would always just take it. My parents used to get frustrated because I wouldn't fight back; I remember them saying, "JUST HIT HER BACK AND SHE'LL STOP!" I couldn't do it. I hated it.

So I like this nice, safe, peaceful God. And I am conflicted when I read passages like Joel 3.

Proclaim this among the nations: Prepare war, stir up the warriors. Let all the soldiers draw near, let them come up. Beat your ploughshares into swords, and your pruning-hooks into spears; let the weakling say, ‘I am a warrior.’ Joel 3:9-10

I say no. Don't stir up the warriors, let the soldiers stay at home, leave your peaceful farm equipment as it is, and let the weakling just be a weakling. Let peace reign.

I am learning though, that sometimes people need a champion. At the time that Joel wrote this passage, Israel needed to know that God would fight for them. They needed a warrior.

And I have to let God be God even when I am not comfortable with a valiant, violent, warrior God. So now we pursue peace knowing that God is not as warm and fuzzy as we'd like.

It reminds me of the famous line in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, when the Beaver, describing Aslan, says, "’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you."

Despite my predispositions, good does not necessitate safe and sometimes, we all need a warrior in our corner.