Christmas lights

One of my favorite childhood Christmastime traditions was piling into the car and driving around town to look at Christmas lights and decorations. We drove slowly through the neighborhoods nearby, and always at least once through the village, where the old houses on Church Street had candles in every window and wreaths on every door. And Main Street was always lit with the most beautifully draped white lights, running through the trees and framing the street like a picture.

But even more than the outside decorations, I loved our Christmas tree. Every year we trudged through a nearby farm to choose just the right one. We'd argue and holler and leave hats and gloves behind so we could come back to this tree or that one, because it was the BEST one. Finally Dad would flop on the ground and saw away, and by late that evening we'd have a stately evergreen in the corner by the fireplace.

We weren't a matchy-matchy kind of family... rather than garlands and bows, we decorated out tree with memories. Every ornament had a story. The glass ballerina was from my second year of dancing, and I always hung it just right, surrounded with pink Christmas lights to make it glow. The Minnie Mouse and Pluto ornaments went near the bottom of the tree, so we could pull the strings and watch them click their heels. Baby's first Christmas, matchbox car ornaments, a string of Phantom of the Opera scenes (relics of my obsessed years)... every year Mom gave us a new ornament to commemorate something special. It was a tree chock full of life. And Angie the Angel sat on top, candles glowing in her hands, smiling peace over it all.

I remember one night, a night after a difficult day. I might have been ten years old. It was my last Christmas of family peace, but I didn't know that yet. I couldn't sleep and in the middle of the night I crept down the hall and into the living room, plugging in the Chrismas lights and snuggling with a blanket in Dad's big gray recliner. I gazed at the tree and thought about the memories, then the reflection of the lights on the aquarium caught my eye. I watched the fish swim around, watched the lights reflect off of the glass and water, and all of my agitation started to fade. I felt not peaceful, nor happy, but I was no longer pensive. It was... quiet. Still. At rest.

I sat there for a very long time, rocking gently, gazing at the lights. The creak of footsteps in the hall intruded into the moment, and I was momentarily angry. My dad came in, surprised to see me, and made me move out of his chair. But then he gave me a hug and pulled me into his lap, made sure I was okay, wrapped us both in my afghan, and gazed at the lights with me. I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heart beating. We whispered a little, and were still, and we just looked and looked at the lights.



Many years later, the ornaments decorate a different tree at a different house. My dad's recliner is kind of crusty now, and there hasn't been a real Christmas tree in that room in over a decade. But in the intervening years both my dad and I have come to know Christ, and now we share a different kind of peace at Christmas.

Someone once told me that even before we know who he is, Christ woos us. He reveals himself before we know that it's him, kindling both a desire for and understanding of his nature: peace, joy, majesty, love. Can you see it in your own life?

That night with those Christmas lights was a night that God met me, a scrawny, agitated ten-year-old, in the suburbs of Rochester, NY. He was there that night, and I didn't even know it. But looking back, I know it was him. A little taste of peace, a little taste of love. A moment I never want to forget.


Oh, how he loves us.

Friends and God stories

I met up with an old friend for breakfast this morning. We went to Rikki's, the mom and pop dive that every town has, the one that's only open for breakfast and lunch and that's packed ever Saturday morning and Sundays after church. Home fries and chocolate chip pancakes to die for, but the best part about Rikki's is always the friends that you meet there and the coffee you get afterward in the village's favorite cafe -- another place you can't walk into without seeing people you sang with in the high school choir seven years ago.

We caught up on life, shared news about engagements, marriages, and pregnancies among our old circle of friends, heard about school and jobs and churches and boys and life with Christ. In a long distance meet-up-over-the-holidays friendship, it doesn't get much better than that.

After a whirlwind week of Casino Birthday parties, marathon shopping, Christmas Eve Crossdressing (yeah...), gift exchanges, and eighties movie after eighties movie, it was nice to sit with a Christian and think about stories to tell of God's work in my life. It was rich and satisfying and good to hear about God's work in my friend's life. And most of all, it reminded me of all the reasons I have to be thankful, which leads to worship, which leads to joy.

So today, for the first time in a long time, I'm feeling really joyful. And I want to stay in this place of gladness and thanksgiving and joy, so I think I may start blogging a little more of the God stories from my life, and maybe even from other people's lives. No promises, just a heads up. I hope that in sharing stories we're all inspired recognize God's hand in our lives. And inspired to worship.

I'm also realizing how dependent on my Christian community I've become. I'm not sure if it's good or bad, probably a little of both, but my friends and CGroup and church families have become integral in helping me to know and follow Christ. So for all of you that are part of that... which is pretty much everyone that reads this blog, thank you. You inspire me to worship. I am thankful for you. And it brings me joy.

thoughts on gay marriage, part 4

Please read this in context.

The conundrum of faith and morals and justice and politics gets confusing. But even more confusing is the dilemma of Christian hope in a world where homosexuality is akin to normalcy.

It's like with my mom. She's been with her partner longer than she was married to my dad. I love her dearly, I want her life to be amazing. Most of all, I want her to know the riches and joy and satisfaction and overwhelming love of Jesus, to have the freedom of being who she was made to be. But I believe that when she gets to that point, as she begins to love God back, He'll ask her to give up the woman she's loved for more than fourteen years. Heartbreak. The trappings of divorce without the social sympathy. Hurting tons of people deeply, having them not understand. It scares the crap out of me, and I won't be the one having to do it. I definitely believe that following God is worth any sacrifice, but I shudder at the brokenness that will be so hard to recover from. So even though I pray for my mom to know the incredible love of God, I know I'm praying for her to experience horrible things, too. There will be healing and wholeness on the other side. It will be amazing. But it will take a long time, and it will be the hardest thing she ever does.

So look. I don't have all the answers. I only have a God I trust implicitly, a God who's revealed himself to me in a million ways and given me a book that reveals his character and truth even more. It's a dilemma: a righteous God and redeemed lawbreakers living in a world where truth, love, and goodness are scorned, mocked, and twisted. Until Christ is ruling and there's a perfect theocracy, politics and democracy will fail us. Ultimately my interest is not in what is legal or illegal, or moral or immoral. My interest is in helping people learn about how much they are loved, and how they were meant for something incredible, and how they have the opportunity to be free to be the person God made them to be. No matter how broken and dark and mucky life is, no matter how hurt an confused a person is, God has a way out for them. He did for me. He died for me. And if that doesn't make sense to you, ask me about it.

I may have one more post about this, in response to the article Dan posted about last week. But no promises. And in the mean time, I invite your comments and questions and discussion. I know it's not completely logical, I know not every question is answered, and surely my arguments are incomplete and flawed. I'm not a philosopher, just a girl with some thoughts. Please be nice, even if you disagree with me. I promise to love you either way.

thoughts on gay marriage, part 3

(Again, please bear in mind the context of this post.)

Let marriage be an institution of the church. Let civil unions be an institution of the government.

Ideologically, I think that's the viewpoint most consistent with the laws of this country, and the constitutional right to freedom of religion. It's not that easy, though. The thing about government is that while it may not legislate religion, it exists to uphold justice. And justice is itself ideological. So the morality of things gets all mixed up with the legality of things. And there's no way to really untangle those ideas.

Take, for example, adoption. Should a gay couple be allowed to adopt? Some states say yes, others say no (for a quick overview, check this out). Most studies show that gay and lesbian parents are no worse for children than heterosexual parents, overall. Surely having homosexual parents isn't a cakewalk for the kids, but it's less difficult as societal mores change and no worse than the other family issues that kids have to deal with. Is one parent better than no parent at all? Of course! Is two better than one? I think so.

So from my perspective, gay and lesbian couples can be awesome parents. The thing is, I think homosexuality is wrong in God's eyes. I think and hope that practicing homosexuals come to know God's love for them, and accept forgiveness for all of their sins, and choose to love God back, and show it by obeying what He asks them to do. And I think that ultimately this will mean ending their homosexual relationship. So what then? Just another broken home, children who were in foster care or adopted left no better off than the millions of other kids in broken families, dealing with all the crap that comes along with it.

So can I support adoption for homosexual couples? Gah. Legally it seems fine, but ethically it seems completely wrong. I have no idea what the right answer is. The thing about the separation of church and state is that no matter how hard you try to separate it, when you get down to a very personal level, there's no telling them apart. Law. Righteousness. God. Grace. Love. Family. I just don't know. (This, by the way, is why I find voting so difficult.)

A few closing thoughts, next.

thoughts on gay marriage, part 2

(Again, please consider this post in the context of the previous ones.)

So far I've dealt with some of the secular issues. For many gay couples, the thing they care about is not so much legal rights as social acceptance. My earlier post about homosexuality in general addresses this issue, as does this blog post that recommends some good things to keep in mind when engaging in dialogue about homosexuality, especially as a Christian.

The thing is, this isn't the kind of acceptance that most homosexuals seem to want. They don't want a dialogue or respectful conversation about where we differ -- they want affirmation of their identity as homosexuals. Again, I've already dealt a bit with my opinions about that. But the semantics of "marriage" come into play again when we switch from what's legal to what's ideologically and socially acceptable. In the general American public, homosexuality is becoming increasingly socially normalized. But as a Christian who holds the opinions I've described, homosexuality and "marriage" can't go together.

Very traditional opening words of a protestant marriage ceremony are:

Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people. The union of husband and wife in heart, body and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in property and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God. (cited here, forgive my sad source, this librarian is on vacation)

One of the first things you notice about this ceremony is that it's decidedly not secular. This is marriage in the presence of God. It's a covenant established in the Biblical stories of creation and Jesus' life. It's holy. It represents Christ and the church. It's for joy, comfort, help, procreation, and family. It's not for tax definitions or health insurance, or even for social acceptance.

Forgive me if this seems harsh -- remember that I dearly love practicing homosexuals -- but there is no Biblical support for God's recognition of gay marriage. When the Bible speaks about homosexuality, it roundly condemns the practice. When the Bible speaks about marriage, it affirms that honorable, holy marriages are between a man and a woman. And it's not arbitrary! There are reasons that marriage is defined like it is in the Bible -- reasons literally as old as Adam. The very nature of the way our bodies are made speak to the rightness - the righteousness, if you will - of one man and one woman coming together in marriage. We were created with this in mind.

Again, please understand: I have great sympathy for those who believe they are homosexual by nature. It's not an easy thing, to have such crises of identity, to believe that you were created wrong, somehow, if this is the way God intended it. I don't have these answers, only the love of a God who wants to meet us in our deepest struggles, bind up our brokenness, fill our inner emptiness, and give us peace.

All of this is very faith-based. I believe it's completely true. And I also believe it's completely removed from the world of secular politics and government. Our country clings to the constitutional interpretation that completely separates church and state. Let it be separate, then. Don't let the government base its definitions on God's definitions, if the government is renouncing God. Let marriage be an institution of the church, one man and one woman. Let civil unions be an institution of the government, without gender restrictions.

Ideologically, I think that's the viewpoint most consistent with the laws of this country, and the constitutional right to freedom of religion. It's not that easy, though. The thing about government is that while it may not legislate religion, it exists to uphold justice. And justice is itself ideological. So the morality of things gets all mixed up with the legality of things. And there's no way to really untangle those ideas. More on this, next.

thoughts on gay marriage, part 1

As promised, some of my thoughts about gay marriage. If you haven't read my previous post wherein I share my thoughts about homosexuality in general, please do. First, some thoughts on definitions and the secular...

Recent debates in the US have centered around the "definition" of marriage. There is a federal "Defense of Marriage" law. The recent passage of Proposition 8 in California has brought the issue to the forefront again... and again, it's an issue of "defining" the term marriage.

The issue always sounds like a semantic one. Is "marriage" a commitment between any couple, or only a heterosexual couple? Certainly the semantics are important. The word "marriage" has a tremendous amount of baggage attached to it. When we hear the word, we think of the relationship between our parents. We think of a ceremony with a bride and groom. We think of special intimacy. We think of life together, through good times and bad. We think of tax implications (well, some people do). We think of marriage in the way it has been modeled around us, and that is different for everyone.

So I'd like to propose that we pause for a moment and consider not the definition of marriage, but the implications of marriage. (The effectual semantics.) In today's culture, any two people can have a relationship that mimics traditional marriage. Life together does not require a marriage certificate. Sex certainly doesn't. And all kinds of people raise children together (or apart). Call it what you will, in terms of practical lifestyle, marriage-like relationships are all over the place.

So why does it matter how marriage is defined?

A major issue is that marriage has significant financial repercussions. Married people (may) have different tax burdens than single people. And while any people can live together and share the burden of living expenses, health care is extremely expensive. It is an employer's insurance plan that dictates whether or not "domestic partners" -- people living together -- can be insured under each other's health insurance policy. (Interestingly, the policies vary by employer, not by health care company. Also, no one seems to be asking about relationships between more than two people. Yet.)

So from one perspective, the way the government and businesses define marriage is important because of these financial issues. Personally, this is where I think it is very easy to draw a sacred/secular line. When we're talking about taxes and health care costs, we're talking about secular stuff, not sacred stuff. This is where equal rights comes into play. While there's no equal rights amendment in the US Constitution, establishing justice is the second purpose statement of the constitution. Given this mission statement, I think that one couple should be treated the same as any other couple. Remember, their lifestyles are virtually indistinguishable from those of "married" couples. So I think that tax burdens and insurance requirements should be the same for any kind of couple, if there must be a distinction between couples and single people. (And there are good reasons to make that distinction. Ask me about it if you disagree.)

Of course, marriage has typically been the standard for deciding at what point a relationship is "official" enough to be recognized by businesses and the government. Without some kind of standard, any two people could decide to claim the official benefits/liabilities of couple-ness. So far, the idea of "civil union" has been the standard for distinguishing between random couples and "official" couples. It basically establishes the rights of kinship without a shared bloodline, just like marriage does otherwise. (A quick search shows that in NJ a civil union has age and same-gender requirements, as well as an "only-one-at-a-time" kind of rule). Wikipedia calls it a theoretical legal mechanism, and I think that's really all it is. A secular mechanism for determining legal status of couples. A mechanism for ensuring secular justice.

So far I've dealt with some of the secular issues. For many gay couples, the thing they care about is not so much legal rights as social and ideological acceptance. More on that next.

Homosexuality and Christianity

This post is in response to the article that Dan posted here, which refers to this article. I'll post my thoughts about gay marriage later. Here are my basic thoughts about homosexuality.

People often ask me my views of gay marriage, and I think it's my responsibility to consider the issue and have a well-thought-out answer. As the Christ-following daughter of a lesbian couple who have been together for fourteen years, I am in the unique position of having both firm moral convictions (that I believe are Biblical) and also having a vested interest in the way homosexuals are treated in the church and in the world.

First, I should say that I believe homosexual practice is unequivocally condemned by the Bible. There are scads of verses that support this stance, and if you'd like to hear more about this let me know and we'll discuss it.

Second, I firmly believe that all people, homosexuals included, are unequivocally loved by God with a fierce, passionate, deep, and righteous love. I cannot describe this love: just thinking about it makes my heart ache and sets tears of joy, thanksgiving, and sorrow flowing. It's the kind of love that you can't look at for too long, because it cuts deep and does not leave the beloved one unchanged. I firmly believe that a person who has deep feelings of love for another person of the same sex is beloved by God and should be treated as such by all the world, especially Christians.

I also believe that it is possible for a homosexual to be a redeemed, Christ-following Christian. The feelings of a person's heart toward another person of the same sex is not an insurmountable obstacle through which the grace of God cannot penetrate. Homosexuals can be Christians. But let me qualify that. If homosexuality is a sin, and it is, then a Christ-following homosexual will, at one point or other, be convicted that their lifestyle is outside the 'narrow road' that God would have them walk. Most of the time I'm pretty sure that conviction comes early on in a person's walk with God, because growth in Christ is seriously limited by the sinful patterns in our life. A homosexual who comes to Christ will have to end the active homosexual pattern of behavior in his or her life in order to walk with Christ, just as a person in a heterosexual relationship would have to end the sinful parts of their heterosexual relationship in order to grow in Christ.

I'm not insensitive, though. I'm not saying it's easy. Our culture says and many people firmly believe that their identity, the way that they were created, is to love people of the same gender. I cannot speak to the way people were created, though I believe God is both sovereign and loving as creator AND has forbidden homosexual behavior. I am good friends with people who live in the agony of feeling like they were created wrong, who hate that they cannot have the desires of their hearts fulfilled and also live according to God's revealed will. I understand why some Christ-followers choose to practice homosexuality, though as I said I think this will prevent their growth in Christ and likely facilitate their falling away from him. (Ultimately when it comes to sin there are powers of light and powers of darkness, and if we do not choose to claim the victory over sin by God's grace, the darkness gets a foothold and can reassert authority in our lives. And this goes for any pattern of sin, not just homosexuality) I think the best answer for Christ-following homosexuals is to practice abstinence. It can be excruciatingly difficult in a million ways, but I believe our God is greater than even the deep-seated things of the heart. Where it is His will, there is a way.

Again, let me just express my deepest love for both homosexuals and heterosexuals. This is a really hard topic, and it deserves to be discussed with care and respect. There's nothing I despise more than the ungrace shown by so many Christians toward homosexuals. It breaks my heart.

If you'd like to discuss this further, I'm certainly happy to oblige. Again, I have a vested interest on both sides, and I also have some unique experience dealing with both personal and institutional questions of sexuality, and also with the consequences of sexual sin and brokenness (my own and other people's). So let's talk about it. With love and respect.

Next up, a more direct response to the question of gay marriage.

he and i

It's been an amazing few weeks for seeing the beauty and creativity and love of God everywhere. I wanted to share this passage from He and I, a book of prayers of Gabrielle Bossis, a French woman who lived from 1874-1950. The cool thing about this book is that it's a record not so much of Gabrielle's prayers, but of God's responses to her. This excerpt is from October 4, 1948.

Today you will contemplate My beauty. Already this morning you saw that deep flush of color arrowing the eastern horizon, and as you passed under the trees you stopped to admire the long October spider webs festooned from branch to branch and spangled with drops of dew like rows of pearls in open necklaces. Then as the sun rose, the crickets that had been vocal all night long in your cherry tree suddenly ceased their singing; the Loire mirrored one hue after another in a rich medley of unearthly colors. And the herons passed over, streaking the violet sky.

If you have eyes to see, every hour of the day holds its splendor. It comes from Me, from a fragment of Me. For you, of course -- so that you may learn the lure of praise, the joy of adoration, the love of Love. And I vary my spectacles every morning to rejuvenate your hearts.

Have you anyone else so ingenious in his ways of pleasing you? You have someone to carve the clouds into the shapes you love, haven't you? And an engineer to swell the tide so that the water reaches the wall of your terrace? What tradesman placed the birds in your trees and so many butterflies around your flowers? And this morning, was it a dealter in tulle who unfolded that chiffon scarf of mist right across your island, turning it into to storeys?

Whose hand plucks the yellow leaves of your linden trees with such grace while your strawberry plants offer you their long rest for the fruit of future years?

Open your eyes wide and look at Love. It is He who is passing by.

All-Night Vigil

I'm a big fan of liturgy. I love the repetition, the speaking of truth day after day in the same way. The way the words get into your mind and heart, until they're as familiar as breathing. No matter what your circumstances, you can join a congregation with the same liturgy and fit right in. No matter where your heart is, you can speak and sing the old, old words and be brought back to the center, the source, the Savior.

While each of the traditional services charms me in its own way, I'm particularly captivated by vespers. It's the evening service, marking the close of the day. It's an opportunity to give thanks for what the day has held, and prepare for the night ahead. (Another reason I love liturgy--it is refreshingly in-the-moment. Each day, each hour, asking for the blessing and faithfulness that that day, that hour, requires.) Dusk is always an enchanting time, a beautiful and somber time, and I love marking that with beautiful, thankful, somber prayer and worship.

Eastern Orthodoxy is really cool because it still has so many features of high church. Worship involves all the senses... seeing the pervasive, iconic art and rich vestments of the clergy, hearing the music and liturgy, smelling and breathing the incense, touching the icons, tasting the sacrament. I've never experienced the full-fledged service, but someday I will. And while the charismatic and Wesleyan sides of me will rebel against the strictures, the Catholic and Jewish sides of me will revel.

Saturday night I went to a performance of Rachmaninoff's "Vespers," part of which I sang a few years ago with the Houghton College Choir. While technically a setting of the Orthodox all-night vigil rather than the orthodox vespers texts, it makes for a captivating service. Here are a few sections of the Vespers, my favorite parts. The last one is the best.


"Amen.
COME, LET US WORSHIP God, our King.
Come let us worship and fall down before Christ,
our King and our God.
Come, let us worship and fall down before the very Christ,
our King and our God.
Come, let us worship and fall down before him."



"BLESS THE LORD, O MY SOUL, blessed art thou, O Lord.
O Lord my God, thou art very great.
Thou art clothed with honour and majesty.
Blessed art thou, O Lord.
The waters stand upon the mountains.
Marvellous are thy works, O Lord.
In wisdom hast thou made all things.
Glory to thee, O Lord, who hast created all."


"REJOICE O VIRGIN Theotokos, Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, for thou has borne the Saviour of our souls."

spinning wheels in academia

I'm in the middle of a lecture in my digital libraries class right now. It's actually not as boring (today) as my in-class-blogging might suggest. We're learning about digitizing, archiving, and making accessible AV files. The example the prof is using is of EVIA, an IU-based archive project wherein sociologists, ethno-musicologists, and the like record video and audio of indigenous and/or otherwise unique cultures. Each hour of video gets at least eight hours of processing... from compressing it into digital formats to scholarly annotaton of the entire thing, moment by moment. As cultures are assimilated, this project captures slices of the heritage of peoples, and will preserve it for future generations.

It's actually kind of cool.

(One interesting thing about the project is that some of it can't be made publicly available because some of the sacred things recorded cannot be seen/heard by, say, women, according to the cultural standards. I think it's cool that the scholars respect that, even if it's passe in our culture.)

Anyway, my thoughts today are more in the direction of stewardship. People are spending hundreds of thousands of hours, and hundreds of thousands of dollars, on this kind of academic research and archiving. It's fascinating and potentially useful for academics and interested members of the public, but is it a good use of resources? I realize that it's grant-funded, etc, so if the money wasn't used on this it would be used on some other significant academic project... But I was just thinking... Really? Is this worth it?


The QOTD from my google homepage is from Ellen Goodman:

"Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it."

Are we just spinning our wheels? Personally? Are we living in light of the purpose to which we have been called? Are we even aware of what that purpose is? I think most of my friends would say yes, they know their purpose, and are at least trying to live in light of it. But it's good to check in about it.

But is there an extent to which we are just spinning our wheels here in academia? Literary scholars find new ways to pick over the same old works, ad infinitum. Historians search again and again to extract new meaning from history, or to figure out what "really" happened. Physical scientists really do make strides into understanding more of the world, but conflicting studies in significant areas confuse the very assertion of observable truth. Social science even more so. Perhaps I feel it more in this arcane world of librarianship, where we fill the shelves and screens with information that will almost certainly never make a significant impact for long-term good on people's lives.

If we're going to work...if we're going to engage in academia...shouldn't we have just as much purpose in that as in the rest of our lives? And if, from the Christian perspective, we define our purpose based on the gospel, how can we orient our academic life to reflect that centrality? Is it just a frame of mind, doing it for God? Or is it more than that--choosing work that will impact the world for Him, or celebrate Him?

Lots to think about.

amazing grace

You may have read this before. But read it again. It's from Yancey's What's So Amazing About Grace?

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A young girl grows up on a cherry orchard just above Traverse City, Michigan. Her parents, a bit old-fashioned, tend to overreact to her nose ring, the music she listens to, and the length of her skirts. They ground her a few times, and she seethes inside. "I hate you!" she screams at her father when he knocks on the door of her room after an argument, and that night she acts on a plan she has mentally rehearsed scores of times. She runs away.

She has visited Detroit only once before, on a bus trip with her church youth group to watch the Tigers play. Because newspapers in Traverse City report in lurid detail the gangs, the drugs, and the violence in downtown Detroit, she concludes that is probably the last place her parents will look for hr. California, maybe, or FLorida, but not Detroit.

Her second day there she meets a man who drives the biggest car she's ever seen. He offers her a ride, buys her lunch, arranges a place for her to stay. He gives her some pills that make her feel better than she's ever felt before. She was right all along, she decides: her parents were keeping her from all the fun.

The good life continues for a month, two months, a year. The man with the big car--she calls him "Boss"--teaches her a few things that men like. Since she's underage, men pay a premium for her. She lives in a penthouse, and orders room service whenever she wants. Occasionally she thinks about the folks back home, but their lives now seem so boring and provincial that she can hardly believe she grew up there.

She has a brief scare when she sees her picture printed on the side of a milk carton with the headline "Have you seen this child?" But by now she has blond hair, and with all the makeup and body-piercing jewelry she wears, nobody would mistake her for a child. Besides, most of her friends are runaways, and nobody squeals in Detroit.

After a year the first sallow signs of illness appear, and it amazes her how fast the boss turns mean. "These days, we can't mess around," he growls, and before she knows it she's out on the street without a penny to her name. She still turns a couple of tricks a night, but they don't pay much, and all the money goes to support her habit. When winter blows in she finds herself sleeping on metal grates outside the big department stores. "Sleeping" is the wrong word--a teenage girl at night in downtown Detroit can never relax her guard. Dark bands circle her eyes. her cough worsens.

One night as she lies awake listening for footsteps, all of a sudden everything about her life looks different. She no longer feels like a woman of the world. She feels like a little girl, lost in a cold and frightening city. She begins to whimper. Her pockets are empty and she's hungry. She needs a fix. She pulls her legs tight underneath her and shivers under the newspapers she's piled atop her coat. Something jolts a synapse of memory and a single image fills her mind: of May in Traverse City, when a million cherry trees bloom at once, with her golden retriever dashing through the rows and rows of blossomy trees in chase of a tennis ball.

God, why did I leave, she says to herself, and pain stabs her heart. My dog back home eats better than I do now. She's sobbing, and she knows in a flash that more than anything else in the world she wants to go home.

Three straight phone calls, three straight connections with the answering machine. She hangs up without leaving a message the first two times, but the third time she says, "Dad, Mom, it's me. I was wondering about maybe coming home. I'm catching a bus up your way, and it'll get there about midnight tomorrow. If you're not there, well, I guess I'll just stay on the bus until it hits Canada."

It takes about seven hours for a bus to make all the stops between Detroit and Traverse City, and during that time she realizes the flaws in her plan. What if her parents are out of town and miss the message? Shouldn’t she have waited another day or so until she could talk to them? And even if they are home, they probably wrote her off as dead long ago. She should have given them some time to overcome the shock.

Her thoughts bounce back and forth between those worries and the speech she is preparing for her father. ‘Dad, I’m sorry. I know I was wrong. It’s not your fault; it’s all mine. Dad, can you forgive me?’ She says the words over and over, her throat tightening even as rehearses them she hasn’t apologized to anyone in years.

The bus has been driving with the lights on since Bay City. Tiny snowflakes hit the pavement rubbed worn by thousands of tires, and the asphalt steams. She’s forgotten how dark it gets at night out here. A deer darts across the road and the bus swerves. Every so often, a billboard. A sign posting the mileage to Traverse City. Oh God.

When the bus finally rolls into the station, its air breaks hissing in protest, the driver announces in a crackly voice over the microphone, ‘Fifteen minutes, folks. That’s all we have here.’ Fifteen minutes to decide her life. She checks herself in a compact mirror, smoothes her hair, and licks the lipstick off her teeth. She looks at the tobacco stains on her fingertips, and wonders if her parents will notice. If they’re there.

She walks into the terminal not knowing what to expect. Not one of the thousand scenes that have played out in her mind prepares her for what she sees. There in the concrete-walls-and-plastic-chairs bus terminal in Traverse City, Michigan, stands a group of forty brothers and sisters and great-aunts and uncles and cousins and a grandmother and great-grandmother to boot. They’re all wearing goofy party hats and blowing noise-makers, and taped across the entire wall of the terminal is a computer-generated banner that reads "Welcome home!"

Out of the crowd of well-wishers breaks her Dad. She stares out through the tears quivering from her eyes like hot mercury and begins the memorized speech, "Dad, I’m sorry, I know…"

He interrupts her. "Hush, child. We’ve got no time for that. No time for apologies. You’ll be late for the party. A banquet’s waiting for you at home."

+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+

James 1:26 says "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress...

I used to be an orphan. I remember it vividly, and it was awful. The hurt is everywhere. . . certainly among those who haven't yet turned to Christ, but also among us, the family, the chosen and beloved. Either way, the call is clear. The command is clear. And the love, the grace? Limitless. And amazing.

Is God alone enough?

Hopefully this isn't completely incoherent...

A friend and I got into a heated debate the other night over the question of whether or not God alone is enough to satisfy our deepest, most fundamental needs.

I was contending that yes, He is enough. Christ is the only one who knows us on the deepest level, more intimately than we even know ourselves. He is the only one defined by his unconditional love, a love that delights to fill, satisfy, and delight us. His sufficiency will never be matched by any earthly relationship--even a husband and wife will never know each other fully or be able to fully meet each other's needs. Though I certainly look forward to getting to know my husband for the rest of our lives, and while I wait for that season with eager and often impatient anticipation, I know, experience, and usually believe that I already have all I need because I have Christ.

My friend contends that Jesus alone is not enough, because He created us to live in community. His argument is that we are fundamentally designed to function best when we're functioning with one another, and that for those people intended for marriage, they will only find completeness and contentment once they have entered into that marriage relationship.

As this friend is a discontent single person, I find it easy to be extremely cynical and write off his argument as that of a man who just needs to know Jesus more, and who will receive a shock when he finds marriage less satisfying than he imagined. But asking around, I've found that many people agree that Jesus alone isn't enough to meet our needs and fulfill our desires. They say that we need not only Jesus, but each other.

So I'm rather confused. On the one hand, I get where they're coming from. I've experienced that life is better when it's lived in community. I know what it is to pretend the blanket wrapped around me is God's arms, and I know the much greater satisfaction of having real arms wrapped around me and thanking God that they are His surrogates. I know the sweetness of prayer and conversation with God, but there's something I (dare I say) prefer about having a conversation with another tangible person--listening, watching, speaking, and responding in ways I almost always understand. Community, when it works, is awesome and fulfilling.

On the other hand, we speak, sing, and pray together about the sufficiency of Jesus Christ. Certainly He is sufficient to pay for our sins, sufficient in grace, and in mercy, and in love. I guess the question is in the wording: does God meet all of our needs, or does God provide for all of our needs? Is He Himself enough for us, or is He-plus-what-He-provides enough for us? In this case, is Christ enough, or do we need Christ-plus-Community?

Maybe it's a moot point, because with one comes the other. Except... not always. There are loads of times when the community bit falls through. We're not perfect, we mess up, and this living-in-community often feels like trial and error. So what then? If God Himself is not enough for us, then where are we left in the times that community fails?

I know what it's like to have the community bit not work out, and that's why I believe that it has to be God and God alone that is enough. Because when God's the only one there, He makes it okay. Sometimes he provides the community, but sometimes He doesn't, and we are called to rejoice in either circumstance. Whether or not we have friends, whether or not we have lovers, whether or not we have fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers--we have Christ.

And Christ is enough.

...isn't He?

pensive

The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures


Many thanks to those that have come alongside me in the last few days, even when I've been unable to express my need.

And Hallelujah to our faithful God! Thus far the Lord has helped me. I look forward to seeing what is next.

two things

The following is from today's My Utmost by Chambers. The bold bit is what struck me tonight, as I am weary and contemplative. It makes me very thankful.

"Out of the heart proceed . . ." Matthew 15:18-20 We begin by trusting our ignorance and calling it innocence, by trusting our innocence and calling it purity; and when we hear these rugged statements of Our Lord's, we shrink and say - But I never felt any of those awful things in my heart. We resent what Jesus Christ reveals. Either Jesus Christ is the supreme Authority on the human heart, or He is not worth paying any attention to. Am I prepared to trust His penetration, or do I prefer to trust my innocent ignorance? If I make conscious innocence the test, I am likely to come to a place where I find with a shuddering awakening that what Jesus Christ said is true, and I shall be appalled at the possibility of evil and wrong in me. As long as I remain under the refuge of innocence I am living in a fool's paradise. If I have never been a blackguard, the reason is a mixture of cowardice and the protection of civilized life; but when I am undressed before God, I find that Jesus Christ is right in His diagnosis. The only thing that safeguards is the Redemption of Jesus Christ. If I will hand myself over to Him, I need never experience the terrible possibilities that are in my heart. Purity is too deep down for me to get to naturally: but when the Holy Spirit comes in, He brings into the centre of my personal life the very Spirit that was manifested in the life of Jesus Christ, viz., Holy Spirit, which is unsullied purity.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In unrelated realization of God's majesty, four or five nights ago there was an amazing thunderstorm. I went outside to walk in it around 1:30AM, only to find that it wasn't actually raining. Making myself comfortable on the little step outside my door, I watched God's fireworks. The roiled clouds were zinging lightning back and forth, the wind was chasing great steely-blue heaps across the sky. Thunder sounded, but not as often as I expected--the noise came from the wild applause of nearby trees, who seemed to enjoy the show as much as I did. Only once before have I watched a rain storm roll in, but this night I heard it first on the roofs across the yard, then on the pavement, and louder in the pool, on the mail-shelter, and then on me. My senses were keen: at the time I was aware of the different feelings the drops had whether the landed on my face, or arms, or clothes. I tried to keep my eyes open and continue watching the light show, but it's hard to look straight up into falling rain. I was in awe of God, in awe of creation, in awe of the fact that I could see and hear and feel so much, and in awe of the fact that I didn't melt in the rain.

:-)

Just awesome:

1. Joel's sermon last Sunday night, and the excellent discussion that followed, confirmed again my desire to pursue just one thing: Christ himself. It is unspeakably wonderful to know Him, don't you agree?

2. Last week Liana told me about how in Ghana they end each night by recounting the day with thanksgiving and praise of God's faithfulness, and how they begin each day with again recounting the Lord's faithfulness and thanking Him/praying for the day ahead. Just since Sunday I've been trying to do this, and it's been awesome. I'm not much of a morning-quiet-time person, but starting off with that and a song about His faithfulness has made a huge difference in how I've approached my days. (Thanks, Liana! And Jeremy for sharing that morning song!) My last few days have been filled with great joy

3. Sometimes certain things are so close to my heart that I can't form cohesive thoughts with which to pray, let alone get enough objectivity to pray in accordance with God's will. But a friend was able to pray for me with that passion and objectivity yesterday. Just another way this body of Christ amazes me.

4. I've had the incredible privilege of touring the labs of my "science-y friends" this last week. May I just say one more time how amazing God is?? I'm boggled by creation. By mushrooms and bird brains and lipids and cell migration. By the fact that our bodies work, that with just a thought my eyes look around, my fingers move, and without a thought my heart beats and I retract my finger from a burning cold surface. By the fact that God created people that have the intellect and passion to work out the whys and hows of biological life. :-) By the way everything matters. Just...wow. My confession of the day is that I have a little crush on science. I'm not cut out for it, I don't belong in a lab, but part of me wants to spend every moment of every day contemplating, discovering, innovating, analyzing, being frustrated by, and delighting in the workings of the world. (Plus, dude, scientists get to play with some awesome toys.) I've got other thoughts on this, but they'll keep, for now.

5. This has nothing to do with anything, but I just am so excited about it that I have to talk about it and this is the most convenient forum. My dad is coming for a visit next week, and I'm THRILLED ABOUT IT!!! Not only is he driving 12 hours to help me move (woohoo!), he's taking a whole week off work and I get to take him to all his favorite spots from the summer he spent in Bloomington some 20 years ago. I cannot wait to share my wonderful B-town life with the man who, despite some challengers, is still my favorite man currently incarnate on earth. :-D

spiritual rest and discipline

For me, the past week has been one of profound spiritual rest. I can tell that I am near to God's heart, even when I don't feel it. I think it is a truth that I am beginning to know through faith. Hallelujah!

It is good to be quiet in the presence of our Jesus King, isn't it? The rest here is phenomenal, indescribable, sweet. Knowing that He loves me, has his best for me, and is utterly in control. Lately I've been directing many of my friends to Phillipians 4: 4-7. Rejoice. Relax. Realize God's presence. Don't worry, just pray and praise and let God's peace take over. I'm still a novice at practicing this, but oh, when I do!

This inner quiet proved particularly useful this past week when I had a difficult, emotional encounter with an old friend. In the midst of the turmoil and agony of the situation, I found that my spirit was still at rest. In that stillness I found conviction and direction for my words and behavior. It sounds all profound and was actually quite prosaic, but when the time came for me to make a hard decision, I was able to make it. I praise God for enabling my obedience, for helping me perceive His Spirit and will, and for guarding my heart. It could have been really bad through and through, and it ended up being only a little bit uncomfortable on the outside.

And really, for me, just being able to obey Him against my own will was a huge blessing. I'm not very good at setting aside my own impulses and wishes for those of Christ, but this one time it worked. I've actually had quite a bit of (God-given) success on this front lately. I discovered a new way of fighting off one sin that has been a long-term problem--I focus on how giving in to it will interrupt my closeness to God. I'm miserable when I'm not on good terms with Him, and being close to Him is abundant life, so it's made the choice a lot easier. I feel like whereas before I fought against this sin by yelling at the devil and claiming my stake as God's daughter and asking God to save me from it, now I'm "setting" God right between me and it, so I'm totally secure. (Of course I'm not doing the setting, He's already there, but maybe you know what I mean.)

This training-for-a-half-marathon has been teaching me about self-denial and discipline, too. Because I went and told everyone I know about it, I can't back out or quit even when I want to. Part of it is pride, and part of it is realizing that I've got lots of people pulling for me, and I don't want to disappoint them. It's seriously awesome that so many people care enough to even offer to work out with me! (By the way, I'm blogging about my efforts here, and while it's mostly for a personal record, you're welcome to peruse and/or comment.) Anyway, maybe discipline doesn't have to be as scary as it sounds. Maybe it can just be a person striving after a goal, surrounded with people who are encouraging and helping her along the way.

Isn't that, after all, the kingdom of God? All of us, together and individually, seeking after Christ Jesus, encouraging and helping each other along the way?

527,040 minutes

Today marks one year since I moved to Bloomington. Like many big life changes, I remember it quite clearly: from a conversation with a friend in my aunt's pool the might before to the hauling in of the five boxes of books that I deemed important enough to bring along. I like the hard work, physical toil, and fresh start of moving, and I look forward to doing it again next month (without the bane of having to reestablish myself in community).

This evening I've been considering some of the things I've learned since I moved here. I've been affected by so many people and experiences that it's hard to know where to begin, even in thought. But here's a bit of what I've learned and how.

• Community is the heart of life. The first week I lived here, I had no TV, internet access, cell phone minutes, or local friends. I didn't handle it well, even with the fifteen or so books I borrowed to pass the time. A week after I moved in I went to ECC and literally threw myself at a group of people my age after the second service, saying something like "Hi, I'm new here and I'm looking for friends." (The girl to whom I said that will be my roommate next year...I guess it worked!) I came to mark time by church, Renovo, Connexion, and my classes...and I still have a vivid memory of the first time I was invited to someone's house for games and hanging out.
  

Now, I'm definitely a person who needs her alone time: an entire day with people is generally more than I prefer. But not only have I learned how important relationships are to my personal "life abundantly," I've also seen how central this is to the entirety of humankind. God Himself is community: relationships are an inherent part of the Three-in-One. We are made in that image, and the goal of human relationships is imitation of the intrinsic, completely united love of God. And that goes for all kinds of relationships: certainly marriage and family, but also with friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and that guy on the street corner who hits on all the girls that walk by.

• We're all the same. I think I learned this lesson best through Renovo, where I served lunch and built relationships with homeless and otherwise needy folk last year. At first I was frightened about having to make conversation at a lunch table with people that are so very different from me. What is there to talk about that wouldn't feel like lording it over them with all of my money and nice clothes and climate-controlled apartment? But then I learned that talking with these strangers was more about listening than talking, and as I heard their stories I began to see how very much we have in common. We're all just folks. If my life took a different turn, if circumstances were slightly different in my past, I would be exactly where they are today. And vice versa, for them. Our sins are the same (in thought if not in deed), our needs are the same (family, food, shelter, Jesus), and we have the same emotions, trials, and hopes. In the story of the gospel, all of us play the same role: wretched sinner, offered grace. And God's providence is not more or less miraculous for any of us--it just so happens that those of us with money are generally less thankful for it.

I've learned something else, too, about us all being the same. We feel isolated and shamed by our sins. They are to be hidden, fought against, fled from. But in reality, when we confess our sins to God, he treats us as lovingly as he did the prodigal son. And when we confess our sins to each other, we almost always find a similar compassion, love, mercy, and grace, plus tangible help and accountability as we seek to change. It's not always this ideal, but when we bring our struggles in the open, we get help fighting them. And often we find out we're not the only ones with that particular battle. Especially in the context of Christian community, it's like we're set up to heal each other--the body of Christ. We're all the same.

• God. I think I've learned Him better this year. I've encountered him as my Rock: the only one there for me through it all, my only hiding place when things get awful. I've encountered him as my Love: the only one whose affection is unceasing, the one whose pleasure brings me the greatest delight. I've known him as my Father: He whose arms never let me fall and whose faithful heartbeat soothes me when I'm wild with fear, sadness, excitement, or delight. I'm continually overwhelmed by He the Creator. I have possibly experienced Him as Savior more this year than ever before...and I hope that I know Him--and follow Him--as Lord more now than a year ago.
  

I've learned about God this year, certainly. At church, Connexion, c-group, in the Bible, in books, in discussions. But in the last year I have prayed that my capacity to know Him would be enlarged. And I think that prayer has been answered, at least a little.

I'll end here, though my contemplations continue about service, ministry, friendship, who I am in Christ and in the world, my past, and my future. These here are the things I've learned that it's easiest to talk about, to air publicly. It comes across like a bed of roses, and it hasn't been, but it's been a good year. I'm on-my-knees thankful for it. Thank you to those of you in Bloomington who have become my reason to stick around for another year. And thank you to those of you back home, who are believing God for my future and reassuring me that you're there for me despite the distance. I love you all.

To God be the glory.

scattered

About two hours ago I decided that I'd like a cup of tea. I went into the kitchen, put away my things from lunch, emptied the dishwasher, ran the disposal, started loading the dishwasher, put away some appliances, straightened up the cupboard under the sink, and came back to my computer for a quick round of email-news-facebook.

I remembered that I wanted tea. I went into the kitchen, cleared off the table, brought in the mail, leafed through my new Time magazine, sorted and stacked the mail on my previously cleared table, washed some dishes by hand, noticed about six other kitchen chores to do today, finished off an open can of soda, and came back to the computer to research normal ranges for cholesterol. Plus email-news-facebook-twitter-other email-blogroll, until my mom called and I had to quickly come up with $70 of purchases I want for free at Circuit City in the next 24 hours.

I have learned a few things:

1. There's always more to do.

2. The next generation iPhone is going to be sweet, fast, AND affordable. (But I'm not sure I want to be wired to the email-news-facebook-etc routine more than I already am.)

3. Spammers hire people to type in those squiggly letters you have to decode to get online accounts. Sites that are looking to use those squiggly letters can get them from a nonprofit company that scans out-of-copyright books and makes them available online for free. When the company's OCR software can't recognize a word, it sends it to a squiggly-word-needing website, where someone types it in to get an account, and whatever they type is entered into the online version of the book. I think that's very very cool.

4. Some days are just like this. It's an errand day, a chore day, and in an hour it will be a work day. It's my last day sans roommate, so I also want to enjoy (guilt-free) a movie, a book, a glass of wine while I still can.

I have done a lot in the last couple hours, but wouldn't call it particularly productive. I'm not sure that the small choices I've made are the kind that will add up over time to reaching my goals or living a life of purpose and significance. I hope they will--that these mundane things are being incorporated into a God-centered momentum--that at the end of this day I'll be able to say I was serving the One I love. But sometimes that's hard to discern.

I think I'll go have that cup of tea now.

micah 6:8

He has showed you, O man, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6:8

In youth group back in high school, we sang this verse. Back and forth, girls echoing the guys, singing truth to each other. I've known the verse for long time, but I'm just beginning to delve into what it actually means. Lately I've been reading a LOT, and feeling rather cowed by the immense wisdom of the collective world compared to my own meager, sorry thoughts. (Hence the lack of blogging...) Here are some things I've picked up along the way:

"Living justly" is a phrase which I'd never heard until recently but which is an increasingly effective way of expressing the concept. Another blog I peruse mentioned a fabulous book about just-living: The Better World Handbook. and while I'm only on page 15 I can already recommend it highly. Get it and read it. The authors (Jones, Haenfler, and Johnson) talk about the whys and hows of living right in simple, understandable, and practical terms.


I've begun to read gatheringinlight, a blog by a Quaker student at Fuller Thological Seminary. Some interesting stuff, including the following "living justly" themed items:

• Resources and Tips for Becoming Green and Protecting Our Environment
• How to Live Local: Creating your Two Mile Map
• This video, which parallels the lives of two kids who live under radically different circumstances:

I am continually confronted with the myriad ways my life does not line up with my confession of faith...and I so want to change that. It's hard, but that's no excuse. It gets discouraging to have a list of things I want to do and become, and then to watch myself walk in the ways of old, destructive habits. I have trouble staying motivated, even though I know it's worth all the effort I can muster. I would drop anything to help a friend in need... why then is it so difficult to drop anything to help fellow humans in general, and generations to come? Why is it so hard, even when I know it is would not only be obeying God, but showing my love for Him, and ultimately benefiting me physically, mentally, and spiritually?

I guess that's where the "walking humbly with your God" comes in. I cannot do it in my power. But He will not do it for me, either. It takes faith, but it also takes works. I need to step out in faith, and then I will find that His strength is enough. I want to see His kingdom come and His will be done--it will never happen globally until He returns, but as long as I am in His kingdom, I want to work for it.

My new prayer for myself is for discipline and motivation... Once again, for this moment. I have nothing to offer but myself, right now.

thankful

This morning I am overwhelmed by the ugly reality of sin in my life. Sometimes when I stumble and fall my mind races through the gospel: "You've fallen, but if you repent God will forgive you and restore you and nothing will stand between you and him. That is bliss. Worship." I end up not really dealing with the issues, because I know the end of the story.

My issue right now is with what I might call 'addictive' sin: after so much victory over it, I gave an inch and it took over again. I blame the behavior as if it was in control--actually, I'm the one that's chosen to give in to the impulses. I have sinned. And it is ugly, and I am wretched. And I can't stop--no matter how hard I try.

The problem with racing through the gospel so much, so often, every time this sin seems like it is becoming a habit, is that I start asking for God's true opinion of me and not actually believing it. I know he says that I am His, that I am forgiven, that I am a saint, that He loves me. But in my inner heart (fully revealed to Him, of course), I her "That's just fine, but you're going to fall again. You haven't truly repented because it's going to happen again. Maybe even today. Gotcha. So He can't really love you, because you haven't really repented."

THAT IS A LIE!

I have repented and I am free. God told me this morning, once again, that if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come! I am in Christ. I haven't remained in Him, which is why I've fallen--but I am in Him now, and as long as I stay in Him NOW (this moment), I am a new creation. The old has gone. The new has come. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ. NO condemnation! NO CONDEMNATION!

Take that, Enemy.

All I owe was paid by Jesus. And that includes all my sin from before, and any atrocities I have yet to commit. It is somber, but it is glorious. And yes, it inspires worship. I have been contemplating how to say thank you... But God desires mercy, not sacrifice. The best worship I can give is just to remain in Christ. God has work for me to do, even this morning, and it's work I can't do in my own strength. So here we go. This morning, this moment, I'm just going to worship with a thankful heart and moment-by-moment faithfulness.

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;

wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

Let me hear joy and gladness;

let the bones you have crushed rejoice.

Hide your face from my sins

and blot out all my iniquity.

Create in me a pure heart, O God,

and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me from your presence

or take your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation

and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

Then I will teach transgressors your ways,

and sinners will turn back to you.

Save me from bloodguilt, O God,

the God who saves me,

and my tongue will sing of your righteousness.

O Lord, open my lips,

and my mouth will declare your praise.

You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;

you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;

a broken and contrite heart,

O God, you will not despise.

love (iii)

I've recently bought some fabulous books from MLS students who are leaving town. Among them is an anthology of George Herbert's work, and now I'm back on a poetry kick. (I call it a kick because it won't last more than a few weeks...as soon as I'm inspired to start writing my own, it becomes painfully obvious that prose is a better genre for me.) ;-)

Anyway, I hope to blog more now that the semester is over, but for now, here's Herbert's "Love (III)."

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.

"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be here";
Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
"Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
"My dear, then I will serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."
So I did sit and eat.

in the pauses of my day

I'm still over my head in end-of-semester work, but here are two small contemplations from Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest that have strengthened and encouraged me in the last few days:

INSTANT IN SEASON
Be instant in season, out of season." 2 Timothy 4:2 Many of us suffer from the morbid tendency to be instant "out of season." The season does not refer to time, but to us - 'Be instant in season, out of season," whether we feel like it or not. If we do only what we feel inclined to do, some of us would do nothing for ever and ever. There are unemployables in the spiritual domain, spiritually decrepit people, who refuse to do anything unless they are supernaturally inspired. The proof that we are rightly related to God is that we do our best whether we feel inspired or not. One of the great snares of the Christian worker is to make a fetish of his rare moments. When the Spirit of God gives you a time of inspiration and insight, you say - "Now I will always be like this for God." No, you will not, God will take care you are not. Those times are the gift of God entirely. You cannot give them to yourself when you choose. If you say you will only be at your best, you become an intolerable drag on God; you will never do anything unless God keeps you consciously inspired. If you make a god of your best moments, you will find that God will fade out of your life and never come back until you do the duty that lies nearest, and have learned not to make a fetish of your rare moments.

I've heard this preached before, but for some reason this time it stuck. Maybe it's because I'm fighting with even simple discipline like "sit down and work on your paper," and maybe it's because I was recently reminded of lavish (broken) promises I made to God from the heights of retreats and mission trips when I was a teenager. Like a worn in liturgy, sometimes I need this reminder that taking up my cross and following God should be an ingrained habit.

THE SUPREME CLIMB
"Take now thy son . . and offer him there for a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of." Genesis 22:2 Character determines how a man interprets God's will (cf. Psalm 18:25-26). Abraham interpreted God's command to mean that he had to kill his son, and he could only leave this tradition behind by the pain of a tremendous ordeal. God could purify his faith in no other way. If we obey what God says according to our sincere belief, God will break us from those traditions that misrepresent Him. There are many such beliefs to be got rid of, e.g., that God removes a child because the mother loves him too much - a devil's lie! and a travesty of the true nature of God. If the devil can hinder us from taking the supreme climb and getting rid of wrong traditions about God, he will do so; but if we keep true to God, God will take us through an ordeal which will bring us out into a better knowledge of Himself. The great point of Abraham's faith in God was that he was prepared to do anything for God. He was there to obey God, no matter to what belief he went contrary. Abraham was not a devotee of his convictions, or he would have slain Isaac and said that the voice of the angel was the voice of the devil. That is the attitude of a fanatic. If you will remain true to God, God will lead you straight through every barrier into the inner chamber of the knowledge of Himself; but there is always this point of giving up convictions and traditional beliefs. Don't ask God to test you. Never declare as Peter did - "I will do anything, I will go to death with Thee." Abraham did not make any such declaration, he remained true to God, and God purified his faith.

No promises, just faith in action, this moment. How amazing would it be to be not a devotee of my convictions, but of God alone. He is trustworthy and true and good. I'm so thankful.

starlit faces (eden)

I've been listening to this song all week, including on single-repeat for the last hour.

I'm not sure if it was written or if it just grew, but it's performed here by it's creators, John Sharpe and John Paul Worrall, Jr. It will never be played live again.

However, the recording might have to be played at my wedding. It makes me think of stargazing and hope and happiness and friendship and intimacy and longing for heaven. If I had to choose the most spiritual song I own, this would probably be it. It makes me smile and it makes me cry.

I welcome your comments.

(And if any of you who have emotional or proprietary ties to this music prefer that I take it down, just let me know and I will.)

"Becoming the Beloved"

Chatting with a friend today about blogs made me really miss writing in mine. So hopefully more from me in the next few weeks, or at least after classwork is finished. (I have a stack of outlined blog entries just waiting to be written.) :-)

If my previous post from Nouwen's Life of the Beloved expressed a rather simple principal, the following excerpt describes a simple principle that can also be unendingly complex. I'd never heard it put quite this way, and I like it. This will be my last Nouwen excerpt, if only because more would fall outside copyright law. :-)

Dear friend, being the Beloved is the origin and the fulfillment of the life of the Spirit. I say this because, as soon as wee catch a glimpse of this truth, we are put on a journey in search of the fullness of that truth, and we will not rest until we can rest in that truth. From the moment we claim the truth of being the Beloved, we are faced with the call to become who we are. Becoming the Beloved is the great spiritual journey we have to make.

Augustine's words, "My soul is restless until it rests in you, O God," capture well this journey. I know that the fact that I am always searching for God, always struggling to discover the fullness of Love, always yearning for the complete truth, tells me that I have already been given a taste of God, of Love, and of Truth. I can only look for something that I have, to some degree, already found. How can I search for beauty and truth unless that beauty and truth are already known to me in the depth of my heart? It seems that all of us human beings have deep inner memories of the paradise that we have lost. Maybe the word "innocence" is better than the word "paradise." We were innocent before we started feeling guilty; we were in the light before we entered into the darkness; we were at home before we started to search for a home. Deep in the recesses of our minds and hearts there lies hidden the treasure we seek. We know its preciousness, and we know that it holds the gift we most desire: a life stronger than death.

If it's true that we are not only the Beloved but also have to become the Beloved; if it is true that we not only are children of God, but also have to become children of God, if it is true that we not only are brothers and sisters, but also have to become brothers and sisters. . . if all that is true, how then can we get a grip on this process of becoming? If the spiritual life is not simply a way of being but also a way of becoming, what then is the nature of this becoming?

You are enough of a pragmatist to ask how we get. . .from being the Beloved to fully becoming it. This is such an important question because it allows us to let go of any romanticism or idealism and to deal with the utter concreteness of our daily lives. Becoming the Beloved means letting the truth of our Belovedness become enfleshed in everything we think, say, or do. It entails a long and painful process of appropriation or, better, incarnation. As long as "Being the Beloved" is little more than a beautiful thought or a lofty idea that hangs above my life to keep me from being depressed, nothing really changes. What is required is to become the Beloved in the commonplaces of my daily existence and, bit by bit, to close the gap between what I know myself to be and the countless specific realities of everyday life. Becoming the Beloved is pulling the truth revealed to me from above down into the ordinariness of what I am, in fact, thinking of, talking about, and doing from hour to hour.

When I think about your life. . .I am quite aware of the pressures you undergo. You and Robin live in the middle of New York in a small apartment; you have to keep working to earn enough for your rent and your food; you have thousands of little things to do, from making phone calls to writing letters, buying and cooking food, staying in touch with family and friends and remaining informed about what happens in your city, your country, and your world. All of that seems quite a lot for one person, and it is usually these very simple concrete things of daily life that provide the raw materials for our conversations. The question, "How are you doing?" usually leads to very down-to-earth stories about marriage, family, health, work, money, friends, and plans for the immediate future. It seldom, however, leads to deep thoughts about the origin and goal of our existence. Still, I am thoroughly convinced that the origin and goal of our existence have everything to do with the ways we think, talk, and act in our daily lives. When our deepest truth is that we are the Beloved and when our greatest joy and peace come from fully claiming that truth, it follows that this has to become visible and tangible in the ways we eat and drink, talk and love, play and work. When the deepest currents of our life no longer have any influence on the waves at the surface, then our vitality will eventually ebb, and we will end up listless and bored even when we are busy. . . .

It goes on, introducing the rest of the book. Which I again suggest you read.

Peace be with you.

"Being the Beloved"

In the nooks and crannies of my life I've been reading Henri Nouwen's book, Life of the Beloved. Nouwen, a Catholic priest, wrote prolifically about the spiritual life and is, at least in my book, quickly becoming part of the modern-Christian-life canon. His insights are profound and his writing accessible. The following is an excerpt from Life of the Beloved, which is written as a letter to one of Nouwen's friends. It's expressing an old truth, but it's good to hear it again, over and over. (If you're in a hurry and just want a sip of that truth, skip to the penultimate paragraph.)

Fred, all I want to say to you is "You are the Beloved," and all I hope is that you can hear these words as spoken to you with all the tenderness and force that love can hold. My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being--"You are the Beloved."

The greatest gift my friendship can give to you is the gift of your Belovedness. I can give that gift only insofar as I have claimed it for myself. Isn't that what friendship is all about: giving to each other the gift of our Belovedness?

Yes, there is that voice, the voice that speaks from above and from within and that whispers softly or declares loudly: "You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests." It certainly is not easy to hear that voice in a world filled with voices that shout: "You are no good, you are ugly; you are worthless; you are despicable, you are nobody--unless you can demonstrate the opposite."

These negative voices are so loud and persistent that it is easy to believe them. That's the great trap. It is the trap of self-rejection. ... When we have come to believe in the voices that call us worthless and unlovable, then success, popularity, and power are easily perceived as attractive solutions. The real trap, however, is self-rejection. I am constantly surprised at how quickly I give in to this temptation. As soon as someone accuses me or criticizes me, as soon as I find myself rejected, left alone, or abandoned, I find myself thinking: "Well, that proves once again that I am a nobody." Instead of taking a critical look at the circumstances or trying to understand my own and others' limitations, I tend to blame myself--not just for what I did, but for who I am. My dark side says: "I am no good...I deserve to be pushed aside, forgotten, rejected, and abandoned."

Maybe you think that you are more tempted by arrogance than by self-rejection. But isn't arrogance, in fact, the other side of self-rejection? Isn't arrogance putting yourself on a pedestal to avoid being seen as you see yourself? Isn't arrogance, in the final analysis, just another way of dealing with the feelings of worthlessness? Both self-rejection and arrogance pull us out of the common reality of existence and make a gentle community of people extremely difficult, if not impossible, to attain. I know too well that beneath my arrogance there lies much self-doubt, just as there is a great amount of pride in my self-rejection. Whether I am inflated or deflated, I lose touch with my truth and distort my view of reality.

... Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the "Beloved." Being the Beloved expresses the core truth of our existence.

I am putting this so directly and simply because, though the experience of being the Beloved has never been completely absent from my life, I never claimed it as my core truth. I kept running around it in large or small circles, always looking for someone or something able to convince me of my Belovedness. It was as if I kept refusing to hear the voice that speaks from the very depth of my being and says: "You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests." That voice has always been there, but it seems that I was much more eager to listen to other, louder voices saying: "Prove that you are worth something; do something relevant, spectacular, or powerful, and then you will earn the love you so desire." Meanwhile, the soft, gentle voice that speaks in the silence and solitude of my heart remained unheard, or, at least, unconvincing.

That soft, gentle voice that calls me the Beloved has come to me in countless ways. My parents, friends, teachers, students, and the many strangers who crossed my path have all sounded that voice in different tones. ... Beneath all my seemingly strong self-confidence there remained the question: "If all those who shower me with so much attention could see me and know me in my innermost self, would they still love me?"

... I think you know what I am talking about. Aren't you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along to give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire?" ... Bu as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burn-out. This is the way to spiritual death.

Well, you and I don't have to kill ourselves. We are the Beloved. We are intimately loved long before parents, teachers, spouses, children, and friends loved or wounded us. That's the truth of our lives. That's the truth I want you to claim for yourself. That's the truth spoken by the voice that says, "You are my Beloved."

Listening to that voice with great inner attentiveness, I hear at my center words that say: "I have called you by name, from the very beginning. You are mine and I am yours. You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests. I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother's womb. I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. I look at you with infinite tenderness and care for you with a care more intimate than that of a mother for her child. I have counted every hair on your head and guided you at every step. Wherever you go, I go with you, and wherever you rest, I keep watch. I will give you food that will satisfy all your hunger and drink that will quench all your thirst. I will not hide my face from you. You know me as your own as I know you as my own. You belong to me. I am your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your lover, and your spouse...yes, even your child...wherever you are I will be. Nothing will ever separate us. We are one."

Every time you listen with great attentiveness to the voice that calls you the Beloved, you will discover within yourself a desire to hear that voice longer and more deeply. It is like discovering a well in the desert. Once you have touched wet ground, you want to dig deeper. ... All we really need is a great desire to find the water and drink from it.

Today He who is the King of angels is arrayed in a crown of thorns.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi:
dona nobis pacem.


All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrifice them to His blood.


So many of the things I crave and seek are vain. They do not satisfy the innermost cravings of my heart. They never could. I know that no matter how hard I try to chase other loves, none but Christ will satisfy. Only He could possibly reach the depths of me, let alone clean out the rot and fill the emptiness. He is more precious than the finest of earthly treasures. I have set my gaze to seek an pursue Him all the days of my life.

But oh, the vain things are charming. Pursuing God means an end to pursuing myself, an exchange well worth it but still incredibly difficult. The things that draw me in shout and speak and coax and whisper, "No, it's about you. I will satisfy you." They lie, of course, but charmers do. I let my gaze glance away from Christ. I allow or even force my ever-present sense of Him to blur. He isn't satisfying me right now, so I will turn my back on Him in hope of a quick fix elsewhere. I find the sin less satisfying than even my selfish discontent, my awareness of God snaps back into focus, I find that I've denied the one I love, and I end up brokenhearted at the sight of His broken heart.

He is quick to forgive. His blood soaks me again, and I come out clean, like a bride in her splendor. I deserve none of it, I writhe in my guilt, but he says, "I do not condemn you. I love you. Enter into the joy of your salvation."

What else can I do? If that's what He wants, if that's what will make Him happy, I will accept this gift, this grace, and rejoice, and love him with all I am once again.

I know myself well enough to know that I will fall again. If not in this way, than in another. Christ became my sin for me, and I am called to become His righteousness for Him. I stink at becoming righteousness.

But because my eyes are fixed on Him again, I'll try. And as long as my eyes are fixed on Him, I'll succeed. The God who asks it of me is also the God who empowers me. This is my Jesus, whom I love. And all the vain things that charm me most, I'll sacrifice them to His blood.


Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world: have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world: give us peace.

a prayer of St. Patrick

I usually spend Tuesday afternoons taking care of Dan's kids. I often peruse his little library while the kids are napping, and I've been through a number of good books during those stolen corners of time. You've probably heard of Jesus Freaks, a book by D.C. Talk and Voice of the Martyrs--it's essentially a modern update to Foxe's Book of Martyrs. The stories are brief and often compelling. On Dan's shelf right now is a sequel to Jesus Freaks, which tells not only tales of martyrs, but of other Christians who lived lives of extreme sacrifice for Christ's sake.

Among the mini-biographies in Jesus Freaks II is a profile of St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland and a man who would probably be horrified to be commemorated with worldwide drinking parties. His life story is rather fascinating, and I encourage you to check out this Catholic Encyclopedia, Wikipedia, or the book to learn more about him.

This prayer is widely attributed to St. Patrick. It was sung as a hymn, reads like a poem, and I can only imagine how my life would change if I prayed it every day, as he and his followers did. This is the awareness I wish I maintained in my life.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In preachings of the apostles,
In faiths of confessors,
In innocence of virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me;
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me
From snares of the devil,
From temptations of vices,
From every one who desires me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil,
Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.
Christ shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.