scattered, intentional

I’m finding myself scattered more and more. My mind doesn’t feel like a cohesive unit, but pieces trying to remember how they fit together. I want to be writing, but when I sit down to do so, I’m completely blank.

April is significant in three ways that come to mind.

1. My birthday is in April.
2. We’re in the season of Lent, and Easter is coming soon.
3. It’s Spring, finally.

My birthday always sneaks up on me, since March still seems so early in the year, and April marks some changes. It’s transitional. Before April, it feels like the year has just begun. After April, summer comes quickly, and the year is so not new anymore.

I have never wanted to resist getting older. I’ve never wanted to resent aging. I’ve always wanted to embrace it and age gracefully, accepting the reality that we don’t stay young forever. Everything has a season, and every season has something for us. It’s actually our culture that values youth above all. As people approach thirty, it’s apparently time to start freaking out…which I suppose is ridiculous, though I understand the feeling of knowing that your youth is quickly becoming your past.

There is something obviously romantic about being young. There are so many possibilities. When the future is wide open, you can idealize and romanticize forever. When you can only see things continuing as they are, the impact of your choices seems fairly small (though not insignificant). 

I think about the span of my life often. What will it feel like to be fifty or sixty and look back at my 25th year, or my 27th. Will I be able to differentiate? Can I even remember the different years and their own themes now? But the difference between being forty and being sixty will be so great. I’m still far from forty now. Will I even live long enough to find out how it all feels?

I love Spring. I love the anticipation of warmer weather. I love the warmer weather. I love knowing I won’t need a jacket when I go outside. I love breathing in the thick air of a car parked in direct sunlight. I love the occasional chilly or rainy day. And I love life returning as trees and flowers and birds make colors and noise. 

I have been searching my mind to discover what I’ve learned in this last year of my life. I have learned that I am selfish with my time. It comes up so often. I’ve learned how much I still want and need to learn…and have been pretty paralyzed by that. The other things are more personal, I suppose. I don’t want to refer to specific situations, so I’ll just say that I’ve faced some relational stress and seen some relational growth and been forced to mature or at least do very uncomfortable things and hope that they helped me change.

As for Lent, I have barely managed to remember that it’s happening. I say that I want to remember the Christian church calendar and observe the different seasons and holidays in special ways. There’s no time like the present…but I was not quite prepared. This morning, I looked through a few readings from this website: https://www.redeemer.com/learn/resources_by_topic/lenten_devotionals

So, bear with me as I start reflecting.

Lent is the season leading up to Easter – its forty days represent the time that Jesus spent in the wilderness (before he began his public ministry) being tempted by the devil and resisting him. We are supposed to remember our creatureliness – our sin. We are supposed to reflect on the ways we need to repent and draw nearer to God. It’s a time of repentance and humility. Because humans sinned, the world is under a curse. We struggle here. Jesus needed to come to Earth and be cursed to remove the effects of the world’s curse on people who would have faith in him. 

Jesus is the fulfillment of the law and the prophets. He is God himself, and he’s simply a man as well. Just thinking about the fact that Jesus faced the devil, fasted, and was alone with all this for forty days makes me see my inadequacy. I would not have had the strength to persevere. I am guilty and weak. God is holy and righteous – Jesus is perfect. I am sinful. He never sinned. Yet he took the burden for sin that was on me. That doesn’t make any sense.

Back in the day, Israel’s kings were expected to uphold divine standards and exemplify God’s righteousness and obedience to the law. They were supposed to show the people God’s character through their behavior and their rule. Looking back, the Bible is clear that the record is spotty. But Jesus became the ultimate king for God’s people. He didn’t do it the way they expected on Palm Sunday. He cares and loves and rescues. He is holy, righteous, and divine. He is compassionate, and he became one of us so that he knows what it’s like to be tempted, to suffer, to enjoy the world, and to live as a human in the midst of brokenness and beauty.

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.”
Isaiah 61:1-3 NIV

Jesus read from this passage in the temple and declared that these words from the prophet Isaiah were fulfilled in that moment. It’s incredible. God anointed Jesus to bring good news to the poor, to restore prisoners and broken-hearted people to flourishing, and to comfort people in grief and mourning. He brings the ultimate reason to rejoice and celebrate.

In Matthew 4:1-11, Jesus is led to the wilderness to be tempted by the devil, as I’ve mentioned. He fasted for 40 days and 40 nights, mirroring the time that Moses fasted on Mt. Sinai when God was giving him the new tablets with the law written on them (after the first ones were destroyed). So, Jesus is pictured as the new Moses, the new deliverer of God’s people. He will fulfill the law that was given to Moses.

That website that prompted all these readings and reflections was…presumably…created by the author Timothy Keller, so I’ll tentatively attribute this quote to him (though there was no author listed on the page): 

“The good news of the gospel is that Jesus Christ is the contagiously clean man. When he touched a leper, Jesus did not contract leprosy. Rather, the leper became clean. Those trying in vain to remove their sin must allow themselves to be touched by the contagiously clean man. And, like the leper in the story, may we who have experienced that touch possess an uncontainable gratitude, talking freely about our encounter with the contagiously clean man.”

I want to enter this Holy Week with intention. In college, everyone in my Christian community wanted to live “intentionally” and have “intentional” relationships. Now, the main place I hear that word is in the yoga videos I do a couple times a week on YouTube. The teacher reminds me to “set an intention” for my yoga practice. I think it’s time for me to remember the benefits of intentionality in the everyday. If all of life is “practice” for living in God’s kingdom, which is coming in ways even now, then living carelessly is not an option.

unfinished thoughts from current reads

According to my own goals, today is the day I’m supposed to publish a new blog post. For the last couple months, I have had something to work on. In January, it was time to look at the 2018-2019 transition. Last month, I finished up what I wanted to write about politics at the moment. And this morning, my writing time feels like the rest of my month has felt – aimless and apathetic. It’s not that I don’t have anything to write about. I’m reading about five books at the moment…slow going on all of them, of course, because my focus is so scattered. Oh, six – just remembered another one. So, maybe not apathetic. Just pathetic? Just too hyper and interested in too much at once. 

I’m working on a story that I’m not sure I have any way to finish. I’m working on getting back to basics and figuring out what I can write about. I’m working on a poem about an Austen character. I’m working on a family project, collecting stories from my grandma. I’m supposed to be writing a paper for school. But I’m not working on all of those things actively because I don’t have time…my personal writing time is from approximately 8-10 on Sunday mornings. Sometimes it starts at 7 or 7:30 if I went to bed decently early on Saturday. Last night, I did not, and it was “spring forward”, so you know I’m waiting for my coffee to walk through the door as we speak. My lovely husband makes breakfast for me on Sundays so I can just sit at my desk (breakfast angel that he is). And I want this time to be fruitful. 

Yesterday, I finished reading a book for the class I’m currently taking. The book is Walking with God through Pain and Suffering, by Timothy Keller. I took a lot of notes, and I enjoyed it as much as one can when reading about suffering and evil. Keller attempts a lot with the book, and I think he succeeds. He addresses the Christian and the skeptic and the Christian-made-a-skeptic by awful circumstances. He reminds us that Christians *will* suffer and that it shouldn’t be a shock, and he explains why it is shocking for much of his probable audience. 

Historically, cultures have provided answers to the deepest questions of life and have helped people to deal with adversity in meaningful ways. Keller tells us how Western cultures have failed at this. The result is that today, the mainstream secular culture in the U.S. has no satisfactory way to explain or deal with suffering. Suffering is seen as a meaningless waste. People respond to it with anger, hatred, and shock. People of the past were more resilient. Suffering was more commonplace, so people expected it, and their belief systems had a place for it, so it actually could be meaningful. 

But if the material world is all we have (which is the at-least-subconsciously prevailing view), then we are supposed to be as happy as possible and seek pleasure and fulfillment in this life. If that pursuit is met with suffering, how can one explain it or find meaning in it? Suffering is accidental if this world and its people are generally good. Keller describes suffering in this view as an “evil hiccup”- no origin to it, no response to it, no justice for it, no meaning to it, just pain. If every individual is supposed to create the meaning of his/her own life through doing good and feeling good, then suffering can’t be anything but traumatic.

It is also interesting to look at what our (mainstream secular, U.S.) culture offers people to help them deal with suffering. Instead of digging into the deep questions, wading through the suffering and looking for meaning, people are given coping methods. The goal is to get out of the suffering, rise above it, and get through it without feeling pain or asking difficult questions. People are told how to control their immediate responses and their environment. (Stop thinking negative thoughts. Get good at self care and making yourself feel better without feeling any of the bad stuff.) But they miss out on lamenting, growing through the experience, seeing the meaning of suffering in general, joining in Christ’s suffering, and experiencing the hope of the resurrected life. 

Keller shows us the stories of those who lived through extreme suffering in the Bible, including Job, Paul, and ultimately Jesus, to emphasize that suffering has a definite place in Christian history and the Christian life.

Such a short blog post as this certainly wouldn’t do justice to the question of evil in the world or of suffering in human life. I can’t fully relate what God has to say about it and how the Bible beautifully makes sense of it. Keller’s book does a good job. 

The thing I thought about most while reading it was honestly, “Ok, I hear it. I’m going to suffer, and it’s going to be meaningful and make me a better person or at least have a greater purpose even if I can’t see it. So…what is my Big Suffering going to be?” I have always felt a sense of dread…a sense that since we have to suffer, I can’t relax. I can’t rest because I should be on alert for the thing that’s going to try to kill me. So I think the last few chapters of Keller’s book were actually the most applicable to me (not that I needed it to be immediately applicable – it was for class, after all). 

He goes through the things that characterize walking with God through suffering: weeping, trusting, praying, thinking, thanking, loving, and hoping. In the chapter on thinking-thanking-loving, he references Philippians 4:8-9. In it, Paul says, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me – put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” 

Paul has elsewhere written that he has practiced and learned to be content in any situation. Christian peace doesn’t come just to those who have the natural propensity for being content. It requires us to discipline our thoughts and feelings. We can learn to sense God’s presence and protection and thus know his peace. It was surprising at first to read that thinking, thanking, and loving are disciplines. But as I read, I found it seemed obvious and encouraging.

Seeing these verses in Keller’s book made me smile. I’m reading another book – for my own heart – called All That’s Good, by Hannah Anderson. (I wrote a post last year about another of her books, Humble Roots.) Philippians 4:8 is the foundation for her book, which is about discernment. Six of her chapters focus on things recommended by this verse: whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, and commendable. She used a different translation, but the ideas are the same. This approach to the topic of discernment was initially surprising to me, but now I see that she’s right. When we choose to focus on the things we know to be good and true and we live in pursuit of these things God calls us to prioritize, we will grow in wisdom. God will teach us. He will walk with us, guiding us by his spirit and wisdom in his will for our lives.

Keller calls his readers to think more intensely about the big issues of life so that we will be prepared to face hard times. We need to think out the implications of what we believe. We need to love God above all other things in our lives. We need to see that his glory is greater than the glory we can attain or the glory of any of the best things we have in this life. When we think about truth and righteousness, or about lovely and pure and commendable things, we are going to be thinking about what Jesus has done. We will be drawn to the cross, and we will see God’s work in history and his work in our lives. We will have reasons to glorify him, and we will be humbled. 

We will be restless unless and until we put God at the center of our lives. Audrey Assad has a song called “Restless” in which she says, “I am restless, restless, ‘till I rest in you, ‘till I rest in you, oh God.” I know that this is my pattern. I am restless internally. I look tranquil, and I’m good at putting out those vibes. But I’m restless. I don’t actively rest in God. Jesus should be the center (as that song we sing at my church reminds us) of all, of my life, of the church. When he is, we will be concerned with knowing him and glorifying him. Our need to have a comfortable life, and our need to know we’re making all the right choices will fall to their proper place on our list of priorities. 

politics, part 3: true or false

At this point, I think it is clear that I don’t accept the premise that politics should be kept in a bubble. It applies to other areas of life — that’s why people care about it so much. It’s easy to become passionate when talking about politics. That should tell us both why people want to section it off and why we can’t. Some people want to engage in their daily life and activities without having to think about difficult realities. Some don’t see the ways that they benefit from the status quo, so they think political talk is irrelevant. This last group…I don’t know how to make them care. I’m sure that seeing the way most people engage in politics right now isn’t convincing them to join in. None of us should want political conversations to sideline friendships.

When it comes to sidelining friendships…I think political talk online has taken care of that. Facebook and Twitter are platforms that people use publicly, but it is easy to think that they’re somewhat private places to comment, express views, and argue about them. I have seen some deeply malicious and troubling conversations there. I’m sure friendships have been ruined. There are family members I’m a bit afraid of these days, to be honest. And I’m definitely part of the crowd that has been spending less and less time on Facebook over the last few years.

We can’t section off political talk…because we do care. There’s a reason it all comes out online or in arguments or, say, in a call to boycott the NFL. We can’t section it off because policies do impact life. The personal is really political. I think we see that in things like Trump rallies and the Women’s March. 

I’ve been reading a book of sermons by Dr. King (MLK), called Strength to Love. He deals with the immediate and applicable in every single one. He explores how Christians should live in light of the gospel and in response to injustice. There were plenty of people in his time who wanted to keep those things separate. They wanted to say nice things and be good Christians but keep to themselves about political issues, even in the face of great injustice. I dunno if that sounds familiar…

In Strength to Love, Dr. King says, “Success, recognition, and conformity are the bywords of the modern world where everyone seems to crave the anesthetizing security of being identified with the majority” (12). In his time, this referred to the church’s willingness to be complicit in acts of injustice because they were unwilling to upset the status quo. His entire “Letter from Birmingham Jail” revolved around this issue –  the white church was too patient, too silent, and too complacent. Make no mistake – these churches were engaged in political fights. Dr. King was a pastor and faithful believer, and he was also a political figure engaged in the fight for civil rights. Have white evangelicals still not learned the lessons he fought so hard to teach? His writing is readily available. Maybe if we actually read it cover-to-cover, rather than in token memes once a year, the message would start to get through.

This week, my local public radio station hosted a conversation about religious “nones” and why this is a growing group in our city. Specifically, they discussed why people are leaving religious institutions behind and what that looks like in a lot of people’s lives. So many people have found the Christian church to be off-putting for a variety of reasons. Sometimes their honest questions about life and their doubts about faith were met with criticism and fear, rather than love and conversation. Sometimes the alignment of the Church with the Right led people to believe they couldn’t hold their personal/political convictions and also stay a Christian. The issues were so simplified that people didn’t think they had a choice. There has to be room for nuance. It’s so important. People will walk away.

I’m currently in a class called “Common Objections to the Christian Faith,” and I’m so glad we’re going to explore the deepest questions and doubts that people bring up in relation to Christianity. The ones we will cover in detail include the problem of suffering and evil; the idea that God wants to interfere in our personal lives; the idea that God has something to say about human sexuality; and the reasons for prayer. I have had or still wrestle with some of the same questions myself. But for the ones I’ve never asked, I need to know the heart behind the questions, and I need to be confident of my answers – that they are true and that they’re helpful. 

Christians will only become increasingly irrelevant over time in the eyes of the generally irreligious. (Perhaps the same is true of people of faith as a whole…though I doubt it because people tend to advocate for Muslims and Jews – as they should when these groups are threatened.) But if I could speak to the people who want to write Christians off, I would remind them that it’s dangerous to start writing off groups of people. Remember what it feels like when people write you off for something that’s part of your personal identity. Remember that no group is a monolith – there is nuance everywhere. Know this: “The desire for community is so strong in the human heart that when shared facts and values don’t unite us, we will find consensus through shared emotional or subjective reality. We will retreat into tribes that validate our own experiences and form community around these biases and identities. And when this tribal or party identity is threatened, we will respond, not from carefully considered decisions made for the common good, but from a place of insecurity.” – Hannah Anderson in All That’s Good, pg. 70

This is happening all the time. People have taken their sides, and they’ve mounted attacks. They’ve written off everyone who doesn’t know exactly what they know and think exactly how they think and come to the exact same conclusions. Bear with me in another long quote from a different book: “In the U.S….staunch Democrats and hard-core Republicans hear the same data but, predisposed to interpreting them differently, they walk away with opposing conclusions. In an fMRI study conducted at Emory University prior to the 2004 presidential election, Democrats and Republicans were given a reasoning task in which they were to evaluate damaging information about their own candidate. Notably absent among the subjects involved in this study was any activation of the neural circuits implicated in conscious reasoning once they were confronted with the damaging evidence. The researchers concluded that emotionally biased reasoning leads to the ‘stamping in’ or reinforcement of a defensive belief, associating the participant’s ‘revisionist’ account of the data with positive emotion or relief and elimination of distress. The result is that partisan beliefs are calcified, and persons can learn very little from new data” (119). This quote is from Body, Soul, and Human Life by Joel Green. That article is called “Neural Bases of Motivated Reasoning…” from the Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience 

This shows us the most dangerous thing – that if we don’t learn to respect and listen to those with whom we disagree, we will fail to see their side even when they are correct! When that happens, truth doesn’t matter anymore. Journalists talk about how we’re in a “post-truth” world, and that’s basically what postmodernism stands for, but the absence of any truth is a sad, chaotic mess that won’t allow us to live together for long. 

Anderson writes, “Communities [are] coming apart at the seams – not simply because we can’t agree on what is good and valuable, but because we can’t even agree on what is true anymore” (66). This is one of the main reasons why I think our current president is not merely objectionable but actually dangerous. He encourages people to choose which facts to believe and which ones to deny. He makes people believe that by saying, “that’s not true,” you can make something false…even when it’s a fact. He makes people believe that true journalism is suspect and that the sensational is to be trusted. He doesn’t care what is true – he cares about what looks the best for him and about making people believe he is right. 

As a Christian, I am deeply invested in the notion of truth. I believe that my faith is based in something real – an historical person, historical events, and a living God. If something is true, then it isn’t just true for the person who believes it’s true. It’s actually true…real…in existence. If NPR published an article saying that Kamala Harris announced her presidential candidacy, as they did on January 20th, then we all know that Kamala Harris is going to run for president next year. This is something true. If you choose not to believe it because you think NPR is fake news, then you are actually wrong. She is actually running for president, whether you believe it or not. Now, this is a simplified example. No one has actually denied that Harris – or any of the millions of people announcing their run for president – has actually made such an announcement. But truth really is that basic. Something either is or it isn’t. I’m either alive, or I’m not. If I’m alive, it would be factually false to call me dead. Jesus either lived, or he didn’t. He either rose, or he didn’t. 

You can’t let me believe “my truth” without responding to it…without either denying that it’s true or accepting that it’s true. Our perspectives and beliefs actually affect other people, and theirs impact us, whether we like this or not. We aren’t islands. We at least have to acknowledge that contradictory truths call one another false. This is so clear when it comes to politics. I wish it were so clear in terms of spiritual and religious beliefs. I think people are afraid of disagreement there because of the terrible things brought about by such disagreements in the past. We need to find a way to talk with people who believe differently than we do without calling them stupid, but actually trying to understand their worldview and interacting with it critically, as a valid contender for truth. This is what I need to commit to as a Christian seeking to respect everyone I come in contact with. This is what I would hope others would do when interacting with me. It can be hard to look another person in the eyes and see that they are human, flawed and amazing. It can be hard to remember that I am just like you. But it’s true. We are not that different, after all.

politics, part 1: something to say…

Most of my blog posts come from the things I can’t stop thinking about – things that nag at my mind until I realize I have something to say. I have friends who look at the world of blogs and podcasts and social media and ask whether just “having something to say” is enough to make you worth listening to. I totally see where they’re coming from. I definitely think there’s a certain amount of vetting that individuals these days have to do in order to determine that the content they consume is actually valuable (and that it’s not actually Russian…). It’s a lot…but I do think that a little research makes it pretty clear which podcasts/blogs are worth your time.

What makes me qualified? Well, not much. I have an English degree and a definite concern for writing WELL. Lots of people seem to think that throwing words together and using flowery language and incomplete sentences is the best writing style. It makes me roll my eyes, to be honest. Overall, our commitment to using language well is not great…thanks, Twitter (& sometimes published authors…). This doesn’t mean the content of what people have to say is always bad, but I think there is something valuable about being able to say things with a proper use of the English language, which has rules for communication reasons. I think it’s beautiful. It seems unfair to the people who use it properly when others completely disregard the linguistic eloquence that’s possible when you TRY. So, perhaps I think that “having something to say” is NOT enough…if you don’t have the tools to say it well. That goes against all-self-expression-all-the-time, which is what people generally do these days.

On the other hand, the skeptics I’m thinking about are mainly concerned about the qualifications people have to speak on particular topics, not necessarily about their skills behind the keyboard/microphone (when it comes to podcasts). What makes me qualified there? Well, I can’t say that I have experience and knowledge about the breadth of topics that I’m interested in writing about. I made an extensive list the other day when I was having a decision-making crisis trying to figure out what to write that particular day. There are so many things I constantly want to learn more about. I like to write about the things I’m learning in order to process and synthesize my thoughts into something cohesive to share. So, I don’t have expertise on these (just some of the topics I went into): the criminal justice system, gender, education, US history, housing, immigration, literacy, introversion, socialization, and aging. However, I do keep myself from writing about these subjects until I have done some more self-education. That’s why you haven’t seen a blog post about these things. That’s why I often stick to writing about whatever I’m reading or concepts I’m thinking about while keeping it fairly informal. I’m not trying to put myself out there as a qualified expert. I’m writing about things I find interesting while trying to learn more about the world and my place in it. It’s my way to process, and others have told me that they’ve found my writing helpful.

Yikes, I really went hard from my soap box just now. ALL THAT said, I have “something to say” about the idea that people don’t want politics with their [fill-in-the-blank]. I started writing about it and ended up with about 3,000 words…and I’m not done. That’s why this is “Part 1” – there are more parts to come. FYI: this will end somewhat abruptly. 🙂

I’m not a political scientist, journalist, politician, or even a local political advocate. But I am a citizen, and all citizens are affected by politics. We all influence politics, whether we want to or not. That’s part of the reason why it’s important. It isn’t everything, and I think too many people make it their everything. That is the idea that many people react against by saying they don’t like politics. I don’t think it’s healthy to make politics your main focus, source of hope, or even source of conversation. At the same time, it’s an ignorant and sometimes privileged decision to say you don’t care about politics and to choose not to participate in the political system. 

So, people say that they don’t like politics with their sports, entertainment, work, etc. It’s the same sort of attitude you find in people who say, “I don’t like politics,” or “Why does everything have to be political?” I’m not sure what these people think politics is. Do you think we can just avoid it and never talk about issues and values and how to run our lives in this country? Do you never interrogate your own perspective? Do you know anyone with a different perspective? Do you talk about ideas? Do you think that what happens in our country has no bearing on your life? Do you understand that we have a responsibility for the lives of others? These are the thoughts that flood into my head right away, but I will take a step back and calm down.

It’s a real novice-writer move to come in with the dictionary definition of a word, but that’s what I’m inclined to do here. Get ready – it will be cringeworthy. At the same time, I think exploring this question (what is politics?) will help & encourage those inclined not to listen to another argument about how political life is important. According to the online version of the Oxford dictionary, politics refers to “The activities associated with the governance of a country or area, especially the debate between parties having power.” 

There was a phrase that came out of the second-wave feminist movement that says “the personal is political.” The general idea is that personal and social matters are discussed in the political sphere – and that personal lives are directly impacted by politics. You can look it up – it has its own wikipedia page… 

The last component I want to add to this discussion is the whole concept of identity politics. This term has been used for a long time, but it seems to be especially prevalent these days, and it plays a significant role. It’s basically the natural political outworking of the progression of individualism in American culture. It definitely has its relevant moments.

Ok, so politics broadly involves these things:

• governance of an area (in the U.S., country/state)
• groups with different values and ideas about how this governance should be done (parties)
• social and personal matters being governed (welfare, sexuality, etc.)
• discussion of how best to govern (policymaking)

INTERLUDE (interrupting my thoughts with something recent):

There is nothing like violence to bring this subject to the forefront for me. At the time I started writing, we had just heard that exploding devices were being sent to prominent members of the Democratic party. Political orientation was what all these recipients had in common, and they were targeted by someone who wanted to hurt them, presumably because of their beliefs. The following weekend, the news was even worse – lives were successfully taken. Jewish people gathered at a synagogue in Philadelphia were killed by an antisemitic gunman, simply for being who they were and practicing their religion. 

Antisemitism has a much longer, deeper history than our country’s partisan hatred, of course. Yet both of these recent events have been devastating and sobering. Our president’s reactions to them have been…less than satisfactory. I literally cannot watch or listen to him speaking in times like these because it’s upsetting. He doesn’t seem particularly broken up by evil. He won’t recognize what is happening: terror being perpetrated by Americans on fellow Americans. (He needs to check his statistics before he says one more word about the migrant caravan.)

Here are a couple of quotes from articles by NPR’s Shannon Van Sant on the subject:

“On his way to Air Force One on Saturday afternoon, President Trump addressed the shooting, remarking that if there were an armed guard inside the temple, the shooter might have been stopped. He also suggested that bringing ‘the death penalty into vogue’ would help deter such attacks.”

“According to the Anti-Defamation League, the number of reported anti-Semitic incidents in the United States surged 57 percent in 2017, the largest rise in a single year since the A.D.L. began tracking such crimes in 1979.”

The president was insensitive to respond instinctively toward the issues in order to cast himself in a particular light. He later commented that it’s unimaginable to think that antisemitism exists in this day and age. That really fell flat for me. For one thing, that’s an ignorant statement. At the very least, the huge Nazi/KKK incident in Charlottesville happened during his tenure…has he already forgotten about that? (He’s certainly ignoring it.)

What would it have cost him to say this has been a horrible incident; it shouldn’t have happened; and antisemitism is evil? What would it have cost him to take a day off from being so divisive that he had to place the blame on the people at a NORMAL RELIGIOUS GATHERING for not having ARMED SECURITY?? Excuse me…I’ve never been to a church with armed security, and I would find it extremely odd. I would find it terribly offensive if, after a shooter murdered members of my church, the president of my country suggested that if we had only protected ourselves better, we might have avoided such a situation. WHAT?! What about the fact that this hateful person should never have had the ability and opportunity to carry out this massacre in the first place? It’s that man’s fault that this happened. Perhaps there are other layers of fault as well, but it is certainly not the victims’ fault.

I’m going to post a recent vlogbrothers video here, so please watch it!! Hank Green talks about the president’s problematic partisan ways. Just one of many similar good things to watch/read/listen to recently.

“When you have the power of the office of the President of the United States behind you, there are things you shouldn’t say because they attack the foundations of the country.” (Hank – see video)

End Interlude…
(more later)

Recommendations:
Podcast: St. Louis on the Air, Episode from Thursday, 11/1 (“NPR’s Peter Sagal: On the obligation to be funny, Jewish identity, new book…”) 25 mins. If I ever needed a reason to be a public radio nerd in love with Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me…

Podcast: The Daily Show Ears Edition – Episode from 10/31 (“Between the Scenes – Trump’s Most Powerful Tool Is Wielding Victimhood”) 3 mins. Yes, that Daily Show – with Trevor Noah.

Artist/album: Hush Kids (self-titled album)

try to imagine

I am going to attempt more of an essay here than I normally do. Fun fact: Essay means try. That’s an oversimplified version of the truth. I had a professor explain it in a personal nonfiction class once, and a cursory Google study tells me the etymology is from Middle French, which makes sense because “essayer” is a French verb that means “to try.” So fun. Hope you think so too, and I’m not the only nerd here. All that to say, my first sentence is redundant. 

I recently attended a conference on Apologetics and the Christian Imagination. Very niche, I know, but also great. It’s a theology conference for the likes of me: obsessed with fiction, in love with ideas, always wanting to know more about philosophy than I actually attempt to learn, etc.

One seminar I attended was called, “Imagination in the Western Philosophical Tradition: A Select History”. It was taught by a philosophy professor from a local university. She was engaging, funny, and very good at teaching. She’s one of those people that can make you rethink what you’re doing because what they’re doing seems so obviously interesting and important. (Note: I am always rethinking because everyone else usually seems to be doing great things.)

It is a constant struggle for me to focus on what is in front of me – not to spend so much time (like the last 20 minutes) researching something that matters but doesn’t matter THAT MUCH for what I’m currently doing, which is TRYING to write something in the time I have. I just investigated which translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy I should order when I decide to purchase it. The philosophy professor spent a lot of time talking about it as a prime example of imagination used in Christian philosophy. That’s where I’m going with this. 

In the Divine Comedy, Dante writes of a pilgrim’s journey through hell, purgatory, and on to paradise. I haven’t read it, so I am regurgitating what I’ve learned. (This makes me feel phony, which is why I spent so much time researching him/it just now.) Dante uses poetic images to evoke emotions in the reader, which leads to understanding of the moral lessons he is teaching. Like rationalistic philosophers, he values reason. Like romantic philosophers, he values emotion. He uses both to prompt an ethical response from readers: being afraid of this vision of hell should prompt one to hate sin and root it out. The Divine Comedy is from the fourteenth century, and it is still being translated, studied, and viewed as one of the most important written works of all time. 

We need imaginative renderings of the Christian life and Christian concepts. If our imaginations are stimulated, we can see ourselves and life in general more clearly, and we can move toward real knowledge of the truth. I don’t want to imagine what it would be like in hell, but doing so might give me more reason to pursue righteousness. Imagining what it might be like in paradise, and seeing it in contrast to hell, might give me more reason and urgency to talk to people in my life about real things – about God, grace, and morality. Imagination is important. 

I have been slowly reading a book called Seeing Through Cynicism, by Dick Keyes. It occurs to me that cynicism has become a large aspect of the Western, postmodern philosophical imagination. In the “Western Philosophical Tradition” (what my seminar presented), we talk about the likes of Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Rousseau, and Aquinas. Keyes talks about Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud, and their greater influence on the philosophical air we breathe. (I also want to recognize and emphasize that I’m talking big-picture and “Western” here. I recently read a book in which it was recommended that we never say “culture” or “the culture” because that could mean a zillion different things. SO, when I say “philosophical air we breathe”…I know that’s a little problematic.) I also realize that we are in an interesting period of time currently…in which it doesn’t necessarily seem accurate to say postmodernism is central…but I’m not an expert. I’ll come back to this.

The ideology critique that is used by Keyes’s philosophers tries to undermine the Christian faith. The critique says that Christianity is used for unsavory purposes or to meet basic human needs, but it is not real. For these more recent philosophers, it is some sort of projection. It is an aid to the human imagination because it provides a story that helps people out of despair. It provides a narrative that justifies weakness and suffering (for the weak or for the powerful, in different ways). They approach Christianity with cynicism. Postmodernists approach all belief systems with cynicism. This is why no one can make claims of ultimate truth without facing derision. Because we can’t know anything for certain, we have to have a hermeneutic of suspicion. Anyone is entitled to believe what they believe, as long as those beliefs don’t have teeth – as long as they don’t impact anyone except the believer. Of course, it’s impossible to believe something that doesn’t have an impact on others. You can pretend it doesn’t, sure, but the fact that you are Buddhist means that you believe something in particular about the universe. You can allow me to be Christian. You can be “tolerant” all you want, but if you ultimately believe in Buddhism, you ultimately believe I am wrong. You know I’m not going to reach nirvana if I continue believing what I believe, but you don’t want to convince me. Only one thing happens after we die. We don’t get to choose our own adventures (i.e., nirvana for you, heaven for me). 

I want to return to the question of whether or not “postmodern” is an accurate label. It seems so at times. Relativism is the explanation for so much. Yet, when push comes to shove in the political sphere, we see very clearly where everyone stands…and how universalized they want their beliefs to become. The rise of cause-supporting and activism in recent years has also shown me that cynicism is not thoroughgoing. The phrase “silence is violence” has made me feel so guilty that I am not an internet activist that I’ve had to deactivate social media at different times. Yet the discourse to be had there seems less than productive, to put it mildly. All that aside, people are passionate about political causes, promoting social justice, and making a difference in the world. Perhaps cynicism is only a good coping mechanism for so long – after awhile, we need a change. Apathy and irony seem very hipster…which is a very millennial thing. What happens when millennials start to care about ethical consumerism and gentrification? Not saying we ALL do…but there are contingents.

Perhaps people would stop viewing the church with cynicism if the church became more active in the fight for justice – more akin to the early church that we don’t talk much about anymore. Less obviously hypocritical on a national/public level. The philosophical place that Christians can occupy (according to the professor), is one that values both rationality and emotionality. We should be both contemplative and active. But do our beliefs have teeth – do they have real meaning for our lives and how we engage with others? Are we prepared for that to be seen as unacceptable, or are we prepared to sacrifice the concept of truth for acceptance? Keyes states, “Earnestness and seriousness are out” (62). If they are starting to come back “in”, is there room for us to be earnest and serious? I think so – if we are not hypocritical, harsh, or overbearing. I don’t really think there is another way to live the Christian life besides being earnest and serious about following Christ.

In college, I took a class called International Human Rights in which it was a tremendous struggle for my fellow students to come up with any reason why human beings deserve to have rights. What distinguishes human beings from animals? What determines what human rights should be? There was a huge rejection of the concept of a soul, and people seemed confused and frustrated as to why we needed a reason. Why were we even discussing this? In addition to its being important, I think it was partially because our professor was Jewish and believed humans to be God’s image-bearers. He argued that there was no way to find specific reasons apart from some spiritual/religious belief.

There has been a cultural (mainstream American?) emphasis on the idea of storytelling lately. I love this and hate this. It’s great because I have always loved stories. I’ve been addicted to books since day one. I get obsessed with movies and television shows because of the stories and the characters in them. I want to know the story of every person I meet immediately, and it’s frustrating that I have to do that over the course of a whole friendship (even though I don’t tell my story up front, no way). Stories are special and personal and wonderful, and we can learn so much from them. 

Yet, everyone has become obsessed with telling their stories. In some sense, this is a result of postmodern cynicism. “Any meaning that I have must be generated by me, for me and from my own resources: my story is all there is” (Keyes, 63). Our experiences are paramount. My reality dictates my truth. I can listen to and possibly appreciate your story, but it remains your story. Your truth belongs to you.

As a Christian, I’m to see the collective story as well as the individual stories within it. (What is the Bible, amiright?) I am given the story of the world and its savior. I am connected to the people in this story, and my story has a place. I occupy a place in the story, but my story isn’t of primary importance anymore. My story has a greater meaning or purpose because of the person at work in my life – the author himself. It is connected to a deeper truth, and I can find meaning in my story by looking to this truth.

I have tried to weave a lot of different threads through this little “essay”. Each attempt is an effort to keep learning through this written form of processing. Thanks for reading. I’m going to end with a quote from The Valley of Vision, which is a book of old prayers.

“May the truth that is in him illuminate in me all that is dark,
establish in me all that is wavering,
comfort in me all that is wretched,
accomplish in me all that is of thy goodness,
and glorify me in the name of Jesus…
Teach me that Christ cannot be the way if I am the end,
that he cannot be Redeemer if I am my own savior,
that there can be no true union with him while the creature has my heart,
that faith accepts him as Redeemer and Lord or not at all.” (168)

 

the sparrow

Recently, I have had a wealth of thoughts in the midst of conversations, car rides, showers, and the ten minutes before I get in bed at night. I have almost too much to think about – things I want to file away for further processing. They’re big thoughts but wouldn’t be appropriate (or even beneficial sometimes) to share with the world. That’s the thing about putting writing out there, if it’s personal. If it’s on a blog, you have to think about every single person who might read that blog: friends or family you might be struggling to understand and love; people with whom you work or go to church; people you might meet someday. 

So, I will stick to a safer zone today. What’s going on in my life at the moment? What have I been reading? Hope you’re cool with that.

First, I have to tell you that the book I last finished reading was devastatingly good. I finished it with tears, Nick glancing over at me from the driver’s seat while I tried to hide behind the cover. I just stared at the blank last page pretending I was still reading so I could have a moment. I closed it and declared that it was probably one of my top five favorite books. 

The Sparrow, by Mary Doria Russell, is a beautiful novel. It’s sort of science fiction and fantasy and adult fiction all in one. Although, I would argue that science fiction/fantasy is just as normal as any realistic fiction in the end. The plot and characters are just unique, and the authors are especially creative. (So, in other words, keep your shade to yourself if you can’t appreciate this genre.)

The Sparrow sort of followed me around – from bookstores to recommendations and finally to my grandma, who happened to own three of the author’s books and gave them all to me since she had already read them. I cracked open her large-print ex-library copy and started to read what I didn’t assume would be a beautiful, tragic exploration of humanity, divinity, and morality. 

I want to read it again with my notebook close by so I can jot down the quotes that made me shiver. Here’s something core:

“‘There’s an old Jewish story that says in the beginning God was everywhere and everything, a totality. But to make creation, God had to remove Himself from some part of the universe, so something besides Himself could exist. So He breathed in, and in the places where God withdrew, there creation exists.’ 

‘So God just leaves?’ John asked, angry where Emilio had been desolate. ‘Abandons creation? You’re on your own, apes. Good luck!’

‘No. He watches. He rejoices. He weeps. He observes the moral drama of human life and gives meaning to it by caring passionately about us, and remembering.’ 

‘Matthew ten, verse twenty-nine,’ Vincenzo Giuliani said quietly. ‘Not one sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.’ 

‘But the sparrow still falls,’ Felipe said.” 

The old gospel song, “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” ran through my head so many times while I was reading.

The interesting thing about this book is that it begins with the tragic. You know the basic ending right from the start. Yet it was impossible for me not to fall in love with the story along the way – to hope for the best while knowing the worst. I was invested all the same. 

Russell’s treatment of religion was really redemptive and charitable – pretty unique today, though it was written in the mid-90s. There’s obviously good reason to be suspicious and to recognize the failings of religious institutions. However…there are also hard stories that receive proper treatment. People go through hard things and are met by waves of attempted understanding and care. They’re forced to process the unimaginable for their own soul’s benefit, and allowed to do it in their own time. The beauty and complexity and nuance was all there, and I appreciated it so much. There are big truths and ideas to wrestle with, try to understand, and try to explain as best we can without going into realms of speculation or false certainty. There is something true, but it seems my generation has gone slap-happy with dreams of multiple and personal truths that come from nowhere but our own imaginations and subjective experiences. I’m seeking something specific from the universe, and I think there’s something to be found. Something historic that we can actually understand if we try – that has something to say about how we live. Now, I have to work harder every day to really live that way because it requires a lot. It asks more than most Christians I know are willing to give. This has become kind of rambling and possibly ranting, but I’m sick with its importance at the moment and sick with the ways I fail. But here’s the thing about a redemptive story – it’s always hopeful.

The story of Emilio Sandoz is hopeful, and it continues with a SEQUEL!! My favorite thing for my favorite books to have!! I already own it, thanks to my grandma, and I’m going to read it as soon as I get home. (probably. maybe. I dunno. the semester starts when I get home.) 

I know I said that I was going to write a little about life-right-now. But I’m not. That doesn’t sound so fun, and I’m running out of time. So, we’ll call this a success. I wrote! Something! Yay. Leave the summer processing for another day.

seattle two: not about seattle

I don’t grow as fast as I want to. Ten weeks is shorter than it sounds. I have low output and a low capacity, and I hate myself for it sometimes. But I’m learning to understand and set realistic expectations. All that said because I had hoped to be on approximately “seattle ten” by now. Hah. Here goes.

One morning last week, I woke up and talked on the phone with my friend. We talked about the day and the week and the difficulty of processing what’s in our hearts. I told her about this book I’d just finished reading: The Pursuit of God, by A.W. Tozer. I said it was the most convicting book I have read for awhile. She asked what was convicting about it.

I appreciate being able to talk with friends who respond to my somewhat faltering, intermittent way of speaking with patience. I appreciate reciprocity. I have such a hard time sharing what’s really going on in my head because it’s kind of crazy sometimes, and because you never know who’s going to stay. It takes awhile. Friendship is a long road, but it’s so rewarding when you walk far enough together that you can be unfazed by what you hear. I’m hard to faze anyway…but I assume that others are easily driven away. The best way to put it is a lyric from one of Nick’s songs about me… “If you know her half as well as she knows you, then you know you’re gettin’ there.” It’s usually true. It feels nice to be known by him in that way, but it’s also a line that I suppose makes me disappointed with myself. I’ve read about the enneagram 4 (me, as far as I know: 4 with a 5 wing…if that means anything to ya) that we’ll tend that way. I desperately want to be close to people – closer than most people want to go – but I can’t go there without knowing that those people are going to be forever-friends. So I have to be okay with only having such closeness with a few people. I might not have a group of friends that all know and love each other this way because my closest friends tend to be those who also don’t fit with a group – who just have a few besties, too. Friend is such a unique and serious role to play in someone else’s life…it should be.

So I tell my friend that I’m so convicted because I’m so lacking. I don’t pursue God like I should; I don’t pray like I should; I don’t expect God to be present with me; I choose to do other things when I could spend time seeking him. We talked about uncertainty and that process of doubting God’s existence and then responding to ourselves with the Bible, which we believe to be true. What a funny thing to do, and proof of some faith that still lives. It can be scary and disorienting…can seem unspeakable to have any such thoughts/feelings because you’re supposed to be a church member, a seminary student, a ministry leader. But if no one ever talks about it, no one ever will, right? I talked with my friend about human insanity. It turned out to be something she understood, something she felt in her own way.

When I pray, something happens. When I pray for things people talk to me about, those prayers often are directly answered. When I pray for Nick – in a circumstance or emotion – I see the changes happen, without telling him about the prayer or the change. When I pray for clarity or peace or my own circumstances, my prayers are answered in some way that is clear to me. It’s pretty crazy, and I know that God is not a wish-granter or a vending machine. I think that was hammered into me so hard that I stopped expecting him to answer prayers at all. I stopped thinking he could really hear me. So when he began to respond to me that way…it was like he was saying, “I hear you.” I may never have heard God’s audible speaking voice…but he has been listening to me. This is how he’s teaching me that he’s here, that he’s real – that he’s in the details and the big picture.

So why don’t I pray all the time? What am I doing when I sit down to read the Bible and have some spiritual time, but I close it and move on without a word in God’s direction? What am I afraid of? That he won’t answer, or that he will? That if he’s in my life and in this world, I might have to change something? That I might be committed to following him forever and doing things that are scary and uncomfortable? I’m sure I would rather dictate my own life and make choices based on my own will. This tension is nothing new in the Christian life. And yet, there is something so much more comforting about knowing he is taking care and making ways for me to live despite my fear/baggage/inattentiveness. He’s loving me, the unloving, undeserving recipient.

I worry and wonder what God’s doing and what I’m supposed to be doing. But I don’t talk to him about it? What even is that? I laughed over the absurdity with my friend. We noted the ways that we ebb and flow in spirituality. The times Nick has had to sustain our evening prayer life without my input. When all I could muster was “amen” at the end. This not because of anything terrible going on in my life, just for the periodic darkness or the weakness of my heart. It was the first time I had talked to a friend about the fear that we might fall out of this faith and the strange way that God uses what we’re not sure we believe to assure us that we do.

There was about one year when I felt joy and gratitude acutely…and for the rest of my life, I struggle. It’s nice to talk to others who aren’t naturally happy people. Other people who can do melancholy and not be sad or uncomfortable, but find it natural. Yet because I believe that God loves me…isn’t joy/hope/gratitude/happiness the most appropriate, necessary response? And why can’t I muster it the way some can? And does that mean there’s something wrong with me, or something missing in my faith? OR does it mean that I’m well-suited to see the needs, the things to pray for, the people who need love and don’t have it? To be with people who are struggling without blinding them with: BE GRATEFUL LOOK AT ALL THIS JOY! I think this is true. But I know where I need to grow. What to pray for and seek: restore to me the joy of your salvation. Psalm 51 is one of my favorite chapters in the Bible.

I wanted to write about this Tozer book, though. Man, it brought me around. I have been feeling out of touch – exiled from my internal world. I guess theologians forever have been right about that connection between knowing God and knowing self. Imagine that. As I seek God, it gets easier to see myself. Mystery. Please continue to bear with this scatterbrained post: your patience is appreciated.

At the end of each short chapter, Tozer writes a prayer that deals with the themes he’s just talked about. I need to ask God to, “Begin in mercy a new work of love within me.”

Tozer believed in the need to wake up and remember what we’re here for, and who brought us here. Everything I’m writing about now…just assume that Tozer said it, and I’m processing.

Do I ever experience God’s REAL presence? Why don’t I feel him with me? Have I ever asked for him to show himself, to be here in a special way, to reveal his presence to me? I really haven’t asked, and I haven’t had a great big experience. But why not? People are afraid of giving up whatever fulfills us instead of God. Our “toys” are God’s rivals. I’ve dealt with this before, so I’m good, right? Then what is keeping me from coming close to God and expecting him to be close to me?

Is God more of an inference from accepted evidence, or a person who is real to me?
I need the ability to perceive spiritually. “He is manifest only when and as we are aware of His presence.” (64) “Our pursuit of God is successful just because He is forever seeking to manifest Himself to us.” (65) We might use “near” and “far” to describe our proximity to God, and these are relational terms. I can actually cultivate a spiritual awareness and receptivity – in order to gain the perception I need.

Do we confine God’s word to what we can read in the Bible, or do we recognize that he can still speak to our hearts?
I don’t leave space for God to speak. I move from one word to the next, down the page, close the book, stand up, and move on. We need to be still. Find a way to be still and wait on God: be alone, and bring the Bible. “Then if we will we may draw near to God and begin to hear Him speak to us in our hearts.” The Bible speaks continually for God. Can I breathe in between passages, or sentences, and pause long enough to learn something?

We don’t get much toward a definition of faith in the Bible as a whole – just what Hebrews 11:1 has to say: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” Tozer describes faith as “the gaze of a soul upon a saving God.” The faithful heart is bent by its intention to look on Jesus forever, and it forms the habit. Faith is focused on the object, not on itself. It’s not self-consciously examining and questioning. It’s seeking something beyond itself. My faith can be pretty self-conscious at times…no surprise.

On believing: “It would be like God to make the most vital thing easy and place it within the range of possibility for the weakest and poorest of us.” (94) Real faith looks pretty simple. It requires nothing fancy. What do we need to do? Pray, meditate on God’s word, serve others, participate in the life of the church…behold God. Anyone can do this, but I like to make things complicated by over-thinking and wondering – could this really be possible for me?

On church: “Has it ever occurred to you that one hundred pianos all tuned to the same fork are automatically tuned to each other?” (96)

It’s important for us to see that salvation is “…not a judicial change merely, but a conscious and experienced change affecting the sinner’s whole nature.” (100) It can be so easy in my denomination to stop with the language of legal change. In talking about justification, we use legal language because it is appropriate to do so. Yet it can sound somewhat cold or sanitized.

Bible teacher: “God took your record of wrongs and applied it to Jesus. He took Jesus’ record of rights and applied it to you.”

Me: *shakes Jesus’ hand* “Thanks, that was unbelievably kind of you.”

Also me: “Jesus died for my sins, and he gave me his righteousness. I’m going to heaven, yay!”

It can’t stop there, given that there’s probably a lot of time between now and that future, so what happens in the meantime?

One of the main questions I had to answer satisfactorily when I interviewed for a ministry position was: “What are justification and sanctification – and how are they different?” One of the main objectives in a class called “Sin, Christ, and Salvation” was to answer this question. These are wonderful things – it’s so important to understand God’s work and how it applies to us. Yet I can define these words so perfectly without feeling myself changed and without living in the presence of God. It’s not enough to watch the courtroom scene and read the sentence we’ve been given (not guilty) if we don’t walk out understanding everything that means for our future.

One of my favorite seminars/sermons I’ve ever heard was about glorification. I’ve listened to this two-part talk about four times. No one in my church background had ever pointed so clearly, so earnestly, and so matter-of-factly to what the future holds if we believe. Contrary to what some might think, this didn’t make me sit back dissatisfied with life, set to wait for that time after death. It didn’t make me wish for everything to look like heaven immediately. It made me want to live in such a way that other people could hear about this…to live in a way that might point toward glory in a world where things really don’t. That doesn’t mean making our houses look like castles. It means exhibiting a knowing joy. Reminds me of yet another favorite passage, 1 Corinthians 15:51-55:

^“Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

‘Death is swallowed up in victory.’
‘O death, where is your victory?
    O death, where is your sting?'”

 

If we’re going to believe…we have to realize that we owe God everything. We’ll use everything we have to glorify him. We don’t lose our dignity by offering everything up this way – he has dignified us innately. Any desire for human honor gets squarely in the way of our desire for God. He wants all of us: our heads, hearts, and hands (to borrow a seminary phrase). We can pray that he would have us, that he would be exalted over our possessions, friendships, comforts, reputation, ambitions, preferences, family, health, and life…that we wouldn’t value these things more highly than we value him. If we walk out into the world and feel free from the burden of sin but don’t feel any gratitude or obligation to Jesus for what he did…we don’t really get it, do we?

Rest in Christ is the release from burdens. We’re burdened by pride, pretense, artificiality, competition, posing. We need to stop being fooled about ourselves, as Tozer puts it. We are really weak and helpless, but God gives us tremendous significance. Let God defend you – don’t be defensive. I am so sensitive…SO sensitive. Some people are so defensive – like, defensive before anyone has been on the offensive. We can’t rest until we “…accept ourselves for what we are and cease to pretend.” (116)

“The meek man is not a human mouse afflicted with a sense of his own inferiority. Rather…he has stopped being fooled about himself…He knows well that the world will never see him as God sees him and he has stopped caring.” (113) Meekness brings peace. This is what I mean by “I don’t really care what people think,” on my very best days. Or at least I mean I’m trying for this. I don’t mean that I disregard people’s feelings or thoughts. I don’t mean that I’m above caring about opinions. I just mean that we have to put those things in their proper place, knowing and being concerned primarily with what God has told us to be true. In a sense, we are looking above the general human murmur because we answer to someone greater.

Everything we do can be done to God’s glory. This is the goal – not to gain approval, success, personal fulfillment, status, wealth, or any kind of personal glory you can think of. The goal is to work at something that will bring God glory, or to do the work set before you in a way that he would approve. Jesus’ life wasn’t divided into sacred/secular categories. There was no spiritual/natural dichotomy for him to navigate. The only dilemma here is one that humans have created. Tozer uses the example of the body to explain this: “God created our bodies, and we do not offend Him by placing the responsibility where it belongs.” (120) So modesty is biblical, but prudery and shame are not. (All these nuggets are from Tozer, not me. I’m just your friendly blogging paraphraser.) I’m grateful to go to a seminary that understands the body this way and encourages us to stop seeing our bodies (and the physical and the world as a whole) negatively. Instead, we interrogate their nature, the way they reflect God, their purpose in his kingdom.

Everything we do can be given up to the kingdom of God, turning life into a sacramental act of worship. This should be “the complexion of our thoughts” and what we practice, meditate, pray…leading to a “restful unity of life.” But it requires “aggressive faith.” (122-123) “Let us believe that God is in all our simple deeds and learn to find Him there.” Then nothing we do can be called common. This is something I need to hear… I can affirm this so easily when someone else posts about it on Instagram. I can look at people doing work that the world (or my heart) might not count as Meaningful, and I can see that God makes it meaningful…I can see their commitment to it as sacred. But when it comes to doing the menial tasks of my day…to serving others in small ways…to sacrificing the time I want to spend on Purposeful, Inspiring tasks…I will grumble inside. I have a long way to go.

“I long to live in restful sincerity of heart.” (127) This is from another of Tozer’s prayers. And it’s like…exactly right. I cannot think of a better summary of what I long for and what I find so elusive. I long to live in restful sincerity of heart. Those are words my soul can adopt. It’s a mantra I can get behind. It’s what I will be praying for, as I clear away the distractions and enter a space that will hopefully grow larger forever as God fills it with himself.

There is so much more I could say…so much about the Holy Spirit. So much from a paper I wrote last semester about the kingdom of God. But this is a blog, and it has already taken me three days to write this post. I’m going to let it be.

Music while writing this: The Avett Brothers (Emotionalism) and Horse Feathers (So It Is With Us) – Gonna see Horse Feathers open for Blind Pilot this weekend with another dear friend. EXCITEMENT

Recommendations: The Lowland (book) by Jhumpa Lahiri – my first book-cry of the summer.
And of course, The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer

seattle one

Update (to give the illusion that untold masses of people keep up with my blog): My husband and I are living in Seattle this summer, where he is working at a church and I am taking some time off. (Time off from being a student, which some, including me, would consider an already-luxurious existence…so in addition to taking time off, I’m trying not to feel ridiculous about it.)

Last week, I went on an overnight trip with some other women whose husbands are working at various churches in the Pacific Northwest. A few of us dropped our things at the homey bed & breakfast and walked around the small downtown nearby. We ended up at a free art museum, which featured an exhibit called American Fiction – the work was by Robert McCauley. His pieces focus on wildlife and nature and the imposition/impact humanity has had on them. It was all very intentionally profound and meaningful. But that’s not actually what I mean to focus on.

Upstairs, in an exhibit I don’t remember any information about, the pieces (by different artists) explored the concept of invisibility. The exhibit paired artwork with short statements from middle school students about what it feels like to be invisible. It was heart-wrenching and took me back to high school and college and oh-wait-I-still feel it sometimes. It made me want to ask myself the question. What does it really feel like when you feel invisible?

It is lonely, dark, a place where you don’t even want to be seen after awhile because you’re too angry. If people start to notice, you resent how long it took them. You want to be seen, but you become comfortable in the unseen – start to think of yourself as empty space. Lose your substance and make yourself fit the invisibility, see if you can actually become part of the environment, the wind, the space. Lose touch with yourself because your self is in too much pain. Make the pain invisible, and it might go away. There must be something wrong with you, deficient about you, something they’re looking for that you don’t have, or they don’t see in you which is essentially them saying you don’t have it without even investigating. And so they don’t see you. It’s easy to feel invisible even when people think they see you.

—

On this trip, we cooked together and drank together and talked about life and ministry. This John Green quote is the first thing I wrote in my journal that weekend: “The world may be broken, but hope is not crazy.” It’s one I have to go back to. I tend to see optimistic, always-positive people as essentially ignorant – not necessarily naive, but definitely not realistic. I tend to get fixated on understanding what’s going on and what’s wrong and the truth that we are never as good or right as we hope to be. I’m so concerned with naming and understanding reality in all its darkness that I forget to actively hope.

We were talking about how to encourage people toward faith. One woman described the process as basically living out hope, contentment, and rest. If we live in light of the hope and peace we have in Christ, it will impact our lives in a way that should make us unique as friends and neighbors. It’s simple, and we know this. But there’s always an obstacle. Sometimes, almost everyone we come in contact with has faith. Sometimes, we act so much like we don’t have hope that our lives won’t look different. Whatever it is, we need reminders.

There is so much in other faiths and philosophies that actually agrees with Christianity. The assorted things people pick up and cling to often resemble the truth closely, but ultimately don’t answer all the questions or satisfy all the needs. And there’s no way to ultimately maintain a my-truth/your-truth system.

My hope isn’t in something abstractly “out there” somewhere. It’s not, “I hope this will get better…” or, “I hope there’s something better…” The hope is grounded in a real God who has given us a real story with a real savior outside ourselves. It’s way too much pressure to say we can do anything to save ourselves from despair or hopelessness. I have been there. It’s not possible to save yourself from that place. At the very least, another person has to enter in. Ultimately, God is the only one who can bring us to a place of real hope and joy. We’ll always be disappointed by self-saving strategies. This passage was mentioned specifically:

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”
Romans 5:1-5 ESV

When our hope is in something sure, there’s no chance we’ll be ashamed of our hopefulness later – no chance that it won’t come through. That’s huge. I avoid hope…it’s like I have to watch my back or surely be caught off guard. Hope is such a vulnerable choice. Something exhausting about knowing this about myself (for so long) is that I can see how little or how slowly I change. I know I shirk away from hope, and that hope is what I need, and it’s real and true and won’t disappoint me. But that doesn’t mean that in every situation my hope will be realized. That’s just wishful thinking.

The guest who came to speak with us over the weekend shared a phrase that she borrowed from a Buddhist friend, tweaked to make it true. The original phrase was, “I am the mountain; this is the weather.” Her version says, “God is the mountain; this is the weather.”
(This = life, circumstances, ourselves, emotions, relationships, conflict, etc.)

Because we change as much as the weather, we can’t count on ourselves to be that massive, immovable mountain. We can count on God to be that in the midst of whatever “this” weather might be.

I struggled with the tendency in our conversations (and in most conversations about being married to a pastor) toward discussing the pastor/husband’s work and ministry as the primary work being done in the marriage. I wrote a whole paragraph about this that I decided not to put on the blog…because I’m still processing and haven’t talked much about it with people actually in that scenario. It’s just difficult to feel like my ideas might be on the fringe.

Ultimately this summer…I’m going with: grateful, not guilty.
I’m grateful to be in a new place with some existing friends. I’m grateful for the community that has already started to embrace us. I’m grateful to learn about this city and its people. I’m grateful to see new and beautiful places. I’m grateful to have time to write out thoughts and sit with them awhile. I’m grateful to be reading the books I looked at longingly throughout the semester. I’m grateful to have a kind God who gives me these things and wants me to hope in him. I need him, and I need hope. Me, repeat after me: it’s not crazy.

I always finish a blog post feeling like I haven’t scratched the surface of what I’m thinking about, but there it is. I’ve been sitting on it for too long and just need to get back in the groove. Thanks for readin the randoms.

humble roots

At the beginning of the year, I started reading Humble Roots, by Hannah Anderson. A good friend recommended it at the very end of last year. A lady at my church in St. Louis started a group to read it together at the beginning of this year. I went for a few weeks until school got overwhelming. I kept reading it in tiny chunks, journaling along, and finally finished it in July. I recently went through my journal entries and typed up the highlights. Going through those now to process a bit more and see what comes. Also, keep in mind that almost everything I’m writing comes directly from Hannah Anderson’s mind…not mine. And it’s not a short post, but it’s easy.

This book ended up having a larger impact than I expected. (As if I can really predict the way I’ll learn and grow.) I’m prone to reading books that are supposed to speak to the soul as if they can be processed at the rate of consumption. I’ve been learning a lot lately…processing…but not necessarily reflecting and incorporating. I live a tense-hearted life. God meets me in his own time, at my right time, usually slowly because I am stubborn and he is kind. My walk with Jesus involves a lot of breaks…or times where I stop and sit down on a bench for a little bit. But that doesn’t mean that God is taking a break.

This book spoke to (so much, but starting with) the interpersonal comparison that everyone does and the insecurity it brings.
(1) I don’t really care whether people like my personality or lifestyle choices or way I operate or that I like what I like.
(2) I want to be loved in friendship so badly. I haven’t grown up with one best friend. I’ve been so fortunate to have different friends in different places, and I love all of them. But it’s hard not to have that one person that will always know you and has always known you – the good and bad. I have a friend who knows me well and who asks after my heart…and she has lost that one person who was that person in her life. I wonder if she feels this a little, though we are close.

I am married, and in one sense it’s true that he is my best friend. But there is something so sweet and so missed about deep and sweet female friendship. I went to see a movie (the documentary “Whose Streets” – definitely recommend getting this perspective on the events in Ferguson) with a friend from St. Louis, and went back to her house briefly afterward, where her roommates were talking about life and we joined in for a moment. I miss those moments passing in the dining room where you can hear all those voices speaking into your life and love on each other.

I compare myself to other women constantly, which is why I feel insecure in every friendship I’ve ever had. I need the humility to recognize that it doesn’t matter – that the criteria I’m using to define myself and them means nothing. It has become the basis of how I relate, and it usually comes out with them on top, me admiring and mostly feeling inferior. [I feel like the queen of third-wheeling friendships. I’m the third friend tagging along with the two best friends. I expect that it’s going to be a tricycle, but when I get there it’s actually just a bicycle and an extra wheel. Nice to have that extra wheel, but ultimatly unnecessary. This has been a theme pretty much all my life, and I see hints of it as I’m starting to make friends here. It’s hard not to go ahead and fortify the walls. For me, it’s not about trying not to put up walls – it’s about trying to tear down the ones that go up automatically in new places…when I want to strengthen them. I think I try to hang on hard to friends that maybe want to let me go? How does one become content with being the odd friend out? Then I realize this is all completely selfish and I don’t deserve to have friends in the first place, so gratitude should be the only thing I’m feeling.]

When it comes to improvement and growth, I tend to impose regulations or sweeping statements intended to make myself better. But am I actually changing on the inside? I need the humility to seek holiness, not just better qualities or habits. I need Jesus, not self-help. How would humility change me?

“Humility is not feeling a certain way about yourself, not feeling small or low or embarrassed or even humiliated. Theologically speaking, humility is a proper understanding of who God is and who we are as a result.” (103)

The morality of our culture is that if something feels good, it must be good: “But today, being true to yourself doesn’t mean making an honest evaluation of yourself; it means embracing your emotional experience of the world as truth.” (103) I can get obsessed with how other people feel about me and how I feel about myself. How I feel about myself/the world/others isn’t reality…it’s corrupted. This statement really spoke to my heart: “Instead of responding to the pain of being misunderstood, I can rest in the fact that God understands me even better than I understand myself.” (106) I need to hear that every day for life.

Humility should free us from self-condemnation. I’m not God – I can’t condemn, not even myself. My assuming unnecessary guilt (or shame) keeps me at the center of my mind and life. Honest anxiety leads to usurping God’s position of authority. We should adore God -> be humble -> have confidence. Anderson includes this Hildebrand (philosopher) quote: “The question whether I feel worthy to be called is beside the point; that God has called is the one thing that matters.”

I feel like it has become increasingly popular or socially acceptable to be openly judgmental. I’m sitting in a coffee shop where the wi-fi is being slightly fickle but mostly working fine (for me at least), and the girl at the table next to me has been trying to figure out the network/password. Loudly, she said, “I’m never coming here again.” I’m listening to music through my headphones, and I heard her. I’m sure the baristas just across the way could hear her. Her friend said, “I’m fine with that. The coffee is…*makes a face*” I mean, wow. I guess taking a couple minutes to figure out the Internet is a deal breaker, and it’s all right to complain about the coffee in front of the people who made it. That’s a minor example…

People talking about others who are difficult to love or be around – who have awkward or problematic tendencies — really just want to get away from them. They talk in a belittling and irritated manner. When Christians operate this way, I want to shove a copy of Life Together into their hands. I know not every difficult person is also a part of God’s family, but I think that acknowledging the image of God in everyone means that we can’t openly shame others. (But the Internet, for instance, says we MUST shame anyone who says anything remotely wrong.) I think doing so reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the sin and inconsistencies inherent in our own hearts. When we are gratified by pointing out others’ deficiencies, we probably don’t see our own clearly enough. I usually don’t want to hear you gossip about someone else if you don’t have a hopeful bent – if you’re not interested in engaging with the person and doing life with them.

Nick is so good at engaging with people that others would disregard. I’m constantly challenged by this. He gives rides to strangers – has done this multiple times since we’ve been married. He talks to the Jehovah’s Witnesses sitting on the park bench (which generally means he listens to their speeches for ten minutes without interrupting or looking for his out). He listens to the man playing music on the street and tries to learn what he’s about. And he does not complain about this. He loves it. He loves people. His heart is open. What if we all operated this way?

Humility can redeem the inner life. We can bring our emotions to God and feel them deeply. God is not emotionally manipulative. “So…when humility frees us from the oppression of our emotions, when we finally learn that ‘God is greater than our heart,’ it also frees us to enjoy the depth and variety of our inner life. We are free to enter into our emotions, letting them do what God intends for them to do: draw us back to Himself.” (114)

Remember, we always have something to learn. I can very easily assume the posture of knowing what everyone is talking about all the time. Usually I am just trying to assume a listening posture, but sometimes it can also lead people to think that I’m already in the know. I don’t speak up when I don’t get a reference, but it happens all the time. The book I’m reading now describes this well in reference to a particular character. Indulge me and read this paragraph…

“It was therefore with a very well-concealed ignorance that Moody played interlocutor to Gascoigne, and Clinch, and Mannering, and Pritchard, and all the others, when they spoke of Anna Wetherell, and the esteem in which they held her, as a whore. Moody’s well-timed murmurs of ‘naturally’ and ‘of course’ and ‘exactly so,’ combined with a general rigidity of posture whenever Anna’s name was mentioned, implied to these men merely that Moody was made uncomfortable by the more candid truths of human nature, and that he preferred, like most men of exalted social rank, to keep his earthly business to himself. We observe that one of the great attributes of discretion is that it can mask ignorance of all the most common and lowly varieties, and Walter Moody was nothing if not excessively discreet. The truth was that he had never spoken two words together to a woman of Anna Wetherell’s profession or experience, and would hardly know how to address her – or upon what subject – should the chance arise.” (The Luminaries, page 397)

Ignorance can be masked by reserve, and I don’t have the humility to admit the ignorance most of the time. That’s my point.

Humility also applies to the limits of human reason. God’s ways are so far beyond our own. We should not be concerned with being right for the sake of being right. We shouldn’t be self-righteous about our knowledge or wisdom. Anderson describes this using someone else’s term: epistemological humility. I think people in my theological/faith/denominational circles need to hear this. We must have faith in the truth of revelation, not faith in our own knowledge or understanding. We need to be able to acknowledge when we are wrong (and see that we will always be fallible…and sinful). We will never ever know everything, so get used to it, and start acknowledging limits more. It will put others at ease. When I’m around people who seem to have tons to say or seem super secure in their own understanding, I’m either intimidated, or I don’t have much desire to talk to them, because it’s already clear what they think and that they might not be great at listening to the opinions or perspectives of others. Yet, I do this. Nick will feel shut down in conversations when I feel strongly or have a lot of thoughts about a subject. I have to shut myself up. (I interrupt with occasional smothered noises now, rather than with fully-formed sentences. 🙂

“Not only does humility teach us that knowledge comes from outside us, it also reminds us that we cannot perfectly categorize and process the knowledge that we do have.” (123)

We all have resources at our disposal. I learned this well when I first went to Sunshine Gospel Ministries in Chicago. They teach college groups (which tend to be made up of kids from at least semi-privileged backgrounds, and in our case very clearly privileged) about communities of poverty – how they are constructed, what their struggles are, and how injustice contributes to the cycle of poverty. I learned that it’s very unlikely that I’ll end up homeless. I have a savings account. I have a family that could support me financially or house me for a time. They would have compassion. I actually have multiple arms of family that could do this. I am white and have a college degree, so I can easily get different kinds of jobs. I have the technology to engage with current trends and to fit into society. There are people against whom systems are biased. There are people who get subpar education based on where they live and how much money their community has. People who live in unsafe environments because they have no choice and are more prone to danger, drugs, or sickness and who grow up with incredible trauma. People who have to struggle to gain stable employment, let alone higher education, and whose families are in the same situation. People who are targeted and charged with minor crimes and fines, who can’t afford to get out from under that burden. The cycle can start in so many places, and I am not vulnerable to its sinkhole. I didn’t do anything to DESERVE this invulnerability. Anderson gets to this briefly in a footnote: “In failing to recognize how much previous generations have shaped our own success, we can also fail to see how much generations of poverty and oppression will shape other people as well. While we may inherit blessing, other people inherit hardship.” (142)

So, Anderson writes about having resources of all kinds. We can honor them, and we can engage them with humility. Everything we have, we’ve been given (material and relational and everything). We don’t deserve to have things a certain way, and we haven’t earned a particular lifestyle. I complain from a position in which God has given me more than I need. Humble thankfulness is not based on comparison (I have more than others, so I should be grateful). It is “a gratitude rooted in having anything at all.” (143)

I need to make sure I’m not putting myself at the center of dealing with privilege. This is very difficult, because the first and easiest way we try to understand the world is through our own eyes. I’m thinking about the parable of the talents. Do I steward (plant) my resources, or do I bury them? (Bury them. or get paralyzed. or don’t realize I have them.) Am I using my freedom well? (Hm) Do I accept gifts without guilt, without trying to earn them? (Either so guilty or so entitled. depends.) Do I let God lead me in using them? (Mostly I do not.) We have responsibilities because of the gifts we have been given. Asking whether we deserve them is not productive. Asking what we are responsible to do can lead to action and growth. God is at the center. Everything has a purpose.

“We know that we don’t deserve more than another person, but we also know that we have more than another person. And so in an attempt to deal with this guilt, we can pursue a form of asceticism, all while keeping ourselves at the center of the conversation.” (HR, 146)

I am one of those people who often feel that planning and wishing seem presumptuous because we don’t know God’s step-by-step plan. I needed to hear that it is right to have desires and hopes (and even…plans !) and that we should speak them, so that God can redeem and shape and reform them. This was a huge learning moment for me.

It’s actually not virtuous to refuse to make a plan before we know what’s to come. It’s arrogant. It’s reaching for knowledge that is beyond us, that only God knows. We will never have a perfect map, but we do have the most gracious guide. A verse that kept coming to mind was Proverbs 16:3, which says, “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” I think I’ve always been incredulous at the thought that the Bible says the Lord will establish *your* plans. My plans, really? I thought it was all about God’s plan though… Something I realized as I meditated on this idea and continued to read Humble Roots is that because of this incredulity and focus on God’s unknowable plan, I don’t actually commit my hopes, my work, or my plans to the Lord. So the focus shouldn’t be on God establishing my plans, but on committing everything I do to Him.

Three distilled conclusions from Hannah:
“I will not overlook my privilege.”
“I will not feel guilty about what God has put in my hands or attempt to earn it.”
“I will allow God to lead me in cultivating these gifts for His glory and the good of those around me.”

“Just as God is the source of your life and gifting, God is also the source of your desires… In this sense, the greater presumption is not found in speaking your desires but failing to acknowledge their existence in the first place.” (159)

“Surprisingly enough, humility teaches us to embrace desire as a means of learning to submit to God. It is precisely through the process of wanting certain things that we also learn to trust God to fulfill those desires or to trust Him when he changes them. It is precisely through the process of learning to plan that we learn to depend on a God who makes our plans happen.” (159)

We are kept dependent on God when we don’t know everything. This has altered the way I think: “As much as you cannot make yourself or orchestrate the events of your life or shape your unique personality, you can no more create the desires of your heart.” (161) Desires feel completely selfish. I want this or that – I want to do this or that – it’s all about me. But, DUH, we have nothing we haven’t been given, including our lives and bodies and minds and desires. To acknowledge them is to own them, and that is a risk. To tell God about them is a risk. But it also means, “agreeing with God about who He has made you to be.” (162) We have to learn to ultimately desire the one thing we will never be denied, which is God himself. But we also need to trust Him with our plans, and submit to the idea that they will be fulfilled in ways that we can’t imagine. The possibility of failure is no excuse. We still work.

“When we limit ourselves to working when the time is right, we reveal that we are still clinging to the notion that success is dependent on our choices and our ability to control outcomes.” (168) I have a real strong control issue. That probably gives you the picture of what this feels like for me. 🙂

The world is broken. We can respond to this brokenness with humility. In Luke 8/Matthew 13, Jesus talked about the different kinds of ground upon which the seed of the truth is sown. The seeds that fall on thorny ground are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of this life. We try to replace the giver with the gifts. Sloth…that’s not often how I think about this defeated way of living. God can make our efforts fruitful in the midst of the broken world. “Rooted in pride, sloth factors God out of the equation entirely. If God is not present or powerful here, there is no guarantee that your work or time will be rewarded. So why even try?” (181) We get defeated and more defeated as we stop trying.

Jesus trusts God and accepts the crown of thorns and defeats evil. “What better way to diminish the King of the universe than to crown Him with the very curse that hangs over His creation? What better way to triumph over Him than for evil to adorn his head? What could be more humiliating than to have our brokenness rest on Him?” (184) He trusted God – “Humility trusts God.” (185)

Do I believe the truth about God even when the situation suggests he’s someone doing something I can’t trust? I can’t be ruled by anything other than His word. I can confess my brokenness and rest by telling God and others that I need help. Surrender and stop thinking I can be enough – there is hope.

The most humbling experience of all is death. “All our life, humility is working to this end: Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit.” (195) We experience the deaths of others until one day we are dying. We have no control. Jesus commits his spirit to the father – the destroyer of death, which destroys us now. Those who humble themselves will be the ones exalted. “…when the creature is finally and fully humbled, the world rights itself. When Jesus humbled Himself and submitted to death, He unleashed a power greater than death.” (196) It’s an upside down kingdom.

The struggle to sleep is another picture of the struggle to give up control and trust God. Put down the day. It’s a small way to practice letting go every day because we literally can’t live without it. “In many ways, the act of sleep itself is a spiritual act, an act of humility.” (204) I have to trick myself into sleeping most nights (if I’m not just exhausted) by leaving a light on or reading a book. God offers rest at the end of every day and at the end of every week. He welcomes us to rest, and he will restore us and sustain us.

—

The whole exercise of writing has had no place to fit in my life lately. I’m interested in politics/keeping up with current events. I’m interested in being a part of my community (though school and work mean that so much of my time is occupied). I’m interested in writing and reading fiction – I love it so much. I’m interested in too many things? I’m not sure what realm I’ll end up working toward when it comes to career time. I’m in seminary slash grad school. My program is focused on the connection of social justice to theology. I’ve been able to learn the outworking of that in terms of bringing justice+gospel to bear in different aspects of work in the city, whether that means working with refugees, working in community development, working in medicine, housing, etc. I’m interested in building relationships, but also in connecting people to the resources they need. How does someone get from the exit door of the prison to the front door of an employment agency (willing to talk to them) that has connections to employers (willing to give them a chance)? I’m interested in the broad and the sweeping…one of my strengths (according to Gallup) is “Connectedness”. Another is “Restorative”. I’m interested in restorative justice and the connection of the gospel to all of life – and its call on our lives to be righteous, which has huge implications for how we engage the poor and marginalized. I’ve written a little about that here before.

This was also very long, and if you made it this far then consider yourself part of my blog’s VIP club.

Recommendations:
“Autumn” – a BRAND NEW album by Nick Dahlquist!!! I know him!
“Whose Country ‘Tis of Thee?” – Latino USA podcast episode
“All Things Work Together” – new Lecrae Album! SO GOOD.

respect

On Thursday night, Nick (my husband) played (his original music) at a legit venue for the first time since we’ve lived in St. Louis. He has played at a coffee shop a couple of times, but never as a performer recognized as such. There was a simple stage, a sound check, and an opener. We got to the venue about an hour early to set up and get a vibe. We chatted with the bartender before people started to arrive. A friend (from the seminary we attend) played a set of his own music to open up. Friends (mostly from the seminary as well) trickled in over the course of the next hour. When it was time for Nick to start playing, someone who worked at the venue came onstage and gave a short, seemingly out-of-the-blue speech about the fact that during the show with an obviously largely Christian-seminary-crowd, the bar was making the least money in tips than it ever had before on similar nights. He addressed the idea of generosity and basically spoke against us for a little while. And then Nick had to start playing (for his own CD release show) in the midst of the subsequent atmosphere.

At first, it made me feel super unwelcome, like we were almost being asked to wrap things up and leave (before the main act had started). At the same time, I started to feel terrible. So terrible. Such a sinking feeling in my stomach. Nick and I were each given two tickets for free drinks since he was an artist and I was taking cover charges at the door. I hadn’t had the opportunity to tip or buy my own drink. But I have known for a long time that in the restaurant industry, Christians have the worst reputation as customers and specifically as being terrible tippers. That has always informed the way that Nick and I try to extend generosity when we tip (besides the fact that it’s a decent and normal way to behave, no matter who you are). Nick has also worked at three or four restaurants in his life, and he understands what it’s like to rely on tips on your shift.

The speech we should want people to give when a group of Christians comes into a neutral space is quite the opposite from the one this man had to give last night. It should be, “You Christians have been the best-tipping crowd we’ve ever had, and that wasn’t what we were expecting! Thank you for living up to the standard of generosity that you’re supposed to have!” We should be living in a way that shows people who don’t share our beliefs that we actually let our faith inform our way of being in the world, everywhere we go. As I sat and listened to Nick play his set (very graciously and positively and addressing the bar in a congenial way, seemingly unfazed by the speech) I started to get pissed. We invited this crowd to a bar we had never been to before, and they were representing us, our school, our faith, and ultimately our God. I wish they had thought about that when they decided not to leave a tip (those of them who didn’t leave a tip…probably better just not to buy a drink in the first place). I had used my drink tickets, so I went ahead and bought a beer.

After Nick was finished, he wanted to buy a drink as well, and a couple of our friends stayed back with us as we sat at the bar and chatted with the two people who had been working that night. We addressed the issue right away – we apologized for the way they had been stiffed, and made it clear that we weren’t on board with that. The lady that we had talked to early in the evening told us a couple of comments she’d overheard from the guests. One person commented to another that they hadn’t tipped and that their friend shouldn’t feel bad about not tipping either. One person questioned the bartender’s sexuality based on her short hair. I was horrified!! We personally knew all but three of the people who’d walked through the door – albeit we don’t know all of them as close friends. I couldn’t believe that some of my friends/acquaintances had behaved so poorly, especially in light of the speech from a person who directly said that he had grown up in the church. What a terrible impression we confirmed for him.

Our conversation – the six of us – after everyone else had left was really helpful and hopefully healing to the employees. They had gotten a terrible view of Christianity from our group that night. They expressed their gratitude for all the music, and for the four of us who stayed and tried to make amends and just talk as people. We listened to their thoughts about faith – some direct challenges and even really offensive accusations…but we didn’t argue or belittle. We tried to listen and be honest when we were asked questions. The guys exchanged phone numbers. We gave them most of the money we’d made at the door as our tip (something we weren’t necessarily guaranteed from Nick doing a show, and something that Nick does anyway when the tip jar is low). It was my favorite part of the night. And I was so proud of Nick for playing his really evidently Christian music without shame after being ripped, and for treating the staff so well, and for acknowledging with honesty the need to make up for the animosity they felt that night. I was grateful to have friends who stayed behind with us – I think it was really important for the staff to see that we weren’t the only people who could be kind to them and act normal. There are more than just two Christians who know how to love.

As I read that, it seems like I’m ranting and tooting my own horn here…but I am not trying to make us look good…I’m really trying to process being appalled and heartbroken…

When someone says to you that they were starting to heal and think about the Christian faith again, but your audience made them question whether they wanted to do that anymore, it is a big deal. Our behavior has consequences, and I want people to know that they leave an impact. Whatever your intentions, and whatever you think about your own money…Christians have to be the perfect example of human beings – we have to be extra generous and extra loving, because there is a stigma attached to us when we walk into the room. I think people are still used to the privilege of being accepted everywhere and having the freedom to behave how they like.

I’m not accusing anyone in particular of wrongdoing…but I was so embarrassed and so upset…and I wasn’t even on the receiving end of any comments or carelessness. The guys and the bartenders did one round of shots together to finish off the night, and we all hugged it out. I’m so glad that they were generous-spirited people, open to talking to us even though they didn’t have to trust us. I’m so glad we were able to have an open conversation about how they felt and what they saw and heard. I’m so sorry that Christians are so culturally clueless and blind to the way they affect others. I’m so glad that Nick’s music was still beautiful to them. It really was the kind of night that Nick wants his music to facilitate…just not in the way we expected.

It’s time to pray that we’ll have further interactions, conversations, positive experiences, friendships, with this place and the people who work there. It’s time to pray that they remember the way they were treated and respected at the beginning and end of the night. To pray that they know they are loved by God, and that their hearts might be opened. This should be our prayer for everyone we encounter, and I thought that Christians understood that…at least the ones who go to our seminary…perhaps I am just naïve. I’m usually cynical, and this whole incident isn’t helping with that. It is our actions that show who we truly our, not merely our words. Dumbledore says it. The Bible says it. We’ll be known by what we do.

Like I said, there were plenty of our friends there who were being perfectly kind and normal. And like I said, the speech was pretty brutal…it hit people the wrong way in general. The bartender made a caveat that the women were doing great (once the women started to arrive, she said, the tips started rolling in generously). We were a group of graduate students who generally look like we have it together but actually can’t really afford to spend money on drinks. Perhaps we shouldn’t have invited people to an event where they had to pay a cover as well as purchase drinks. It’s complicated, right? But in another way, it’s not complicated at all. Not to the two people we should have been most conscious about in that space.

I wanted a space to process this, so thanks for reading. Here are some quotes from a book we read at this seminary about living as Christians in a world where Christianity turns people off.

“Respect and graciousness are to flow from a heart that is being changed by the way God has come to meet me in Christ; they must arise from genuine love and a proper regard for my neighbor’s true dignity.” – The Heart of Evangelism, page 195

“Christians, above all people, should be aware that we need to earn respect from unbelievers by our life of service to the community.” – The Heart of Evangelism, page 144