I'm listening ...
to
her right now, and you should too.
I just recently made a friend who's the manager of the very cool local High Fidelity-esque place. I went there last night to look for some CD's for my upcoming trip (as in coming up
today). I really was going to actually purchase some CD's, but he saw me and introduced me to a killer benefit of having a friend who's the manager of a music store: play/promo CD's. He just start rifling through stacks of CD's and handing me groups to check out. And he said "get them back to me whenever, or don't." How very cool. I think this perk might be reason enough to never leave Rochester. Or not.
Ok, so I leave for my trip today. Alabama, here I come. Nashville, I'm coming for you too. And South Carolina -- watch out. It's Tour de South 2004, Krista-style. I'm so looking forward to it, even if all I do is find some local hang-outs and cause silence as I open the door and walk into a smoky room full of people that have known each other since grade school. That's happened before, in some of the tiny little towns in Montana and Colorado that my mom and I just sort of ended up in. And it's fun. That's my favorite part of traveling: the people you meet along the way ... some on purpose, some completely by accident (but is it really an accident?).
I pray this weekend will find me with my eyes and ears open to the voice of God. There are lots of decisions and questions floating around in my head these days. I know that a change of scenery right about now will do me all kinds of good. It will be good to drive for hours and hours, and see different places and faces. A Rich Mullins song is popping into my head, so here is some of that:
... if I were a painter I do not know which I'd paint
The calling of the ancient stars or assembling of the saints
And there's so much beauty around us for just two eyes to see
But everywhere I go I'm looking ...
... I've seen by the highways on a million exit ramps
Those two-legged memorials to the laws of happenstance
Waiting for four-wheeled messiahs to take them home again
But I am home anywhere if You are where I am ...
I know that I don't need to leave Rochester to see the beauty, but right now I think I need to. Besides, I get to drive a truck and listen unashamedly to country music ... what more could a girl want?
won't you say
Nothing really all that deep to say today. I ran across an old(ish) Jennifer Knapp CD this morning, and I was struck by the simple truth of one of the songs. It's nothing really that profound or complex, but it seems to apply to me right now.
Oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
with love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You
Every morning I have the chance to rise
and give my all
Every afternoon I find
I have only wasted time
in light of Your awe
Isn't love amazing
I forgot how to speak
Knowing You are near and
I am finally free
Oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
with love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You
My eyes fear to close
This reckless letting go is hard to bear
On the edge of all I need
Still I cling to what I see
And what have I there?
Bred my own disaster
Who have I to blame?
All I need is waiting
to be fanned to flame
Oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
with love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You
I open up my eyes to see You standing there
Oh, I can barely breathe
I can hardly bear all the love that I feel for You inside
I hope You feel it now
some, somehow
oh say won't You say
Say that You love me
With love ever, love, love everlasting
All my devotion put into motion by You
by You, yeah
saved from what?
The other night I watched the movie
Saved. Interesting. Maybe you're judging me right now for watching that movie in the first place, since the entire premise of the movie seems to be a criticism of Christian culture. Ironically, that was exactly why I wanted to see the movie.
Christian culture, although not altogether bad, is
not Christianity. Webster defines "culture" as the customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of a racial, religious, or social group. I have always defined Christianity as simply following Christ. To take it further and define religion, I basically look at James 1:27 ("Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world"). So basically I see my role as a Christian to be a combination of these things. It's not about material traits or social forms. It's not about a list of do's and don't's or being held under laws or regulations. It's about
relationship ... relationship with Christ, and also relationship with other people. I don't mean to over-simplify here, but I probably am. I'm not just talking about some easy, feel-good Christianity where all we need to do is love each other and everything will be ok. I know there is more blood and guts to the heart of Christianity than that. There is sin to be considered, and salvation, and grace, and mercy, and dying to the old self. There's lots more involved than just being nice to each other.
But I think there's a tendency in Christian circles for us to create this idea of what Christianity looks like. The movie does a good job of presenting us with this sort of artificial world of which I think some Christians would really approve. The kids in the movie are in a "safe" environment, and everything is pretty easy as long as they ascribe to the culture and follow the rules. When the character Mary breaks the rules and ends up in a less than ideal situation, no one is quite sure how to react. I see this same phenomenom in our Christian culture. We draw up lists of what we can and can't do, and as long as everyone follows the lists and doesn't stray from the mainstream ideas, things should be fine. When people start doing their own thing or maybe questioning the list (or even God), we automatically write them off as doing something wrong. And, similar to Mary in the movie, those people may try to hide their acts because they fear how others will react, or maybe because they feel that they have done something wrong. In the movie, obviously what Mary has done
is wrong, but does it make it any less wrong if she hides it from others?
Unfortunately, I think the movie is probably true in much of what it presents. Christians aren't always the most forigiving people. We judge people and we measure them by standards that we created and for some reason think are accurate. It was difficult for me to watch the movie at first, because I felt like I (because I am a Christian) was being mocked. But then I began to see that it wasn't Christianity being attacked as much as Christian culture, which I think definitely deserves to be mocked in some areas. I'm still working through some thoughts on this movie and the questions it raised, but I think it's a worthwhile view for a thinking Christian.
her life, it is a-changin'
This past year has seen a lot of changes.
Relationship changes, job changes, career aspiration changes, weight changes (increase, not decrease, unfortunately), hair length changes (decrease, and I'm still enjoying it), address changes, heart changes, and perspective changes ... to name a few.
If I'm really honest with myself, I know that I am not someone who does well with change. I enjoy it eventually, but it usually takes me a while to accept it. Usually that acceptance comes in the form of me holding on to the old as long as I can, and finally loosening the grip of my clenched fists. I don't let go because I see the wisdom of releasing the old and embracing the new--I only wish I had learned the truth of that by now. No, usually I finally let go because I get tired of trying to keep things the way they were. So I surrender to the change and unwillingly flow along with the current and
eventually I realize that the change in direction is a good one.
But change is good. Sure, sometimes staying in the same place is easier, and definitely a bit safer. But it's not healthy. This morning I pondered this as I lay curled up under my fluffy flannel comforter (courtesy of my grandmother) and tried to ignore my alarm clock for about 30 minutes. It was so nice and warm in my bed. My dogs were curled up next to me. I had found just the right place under the covers that was neither too hot or too cold. I was comfortable. It would have been nice to stay in bed and just hold onto yesterday as long as possible. But the light outside my window and the responsibilities of work beckoned me. As much as I wanted to cling on to the comfort and familiarity of my bed, a new day had arrived, whether I liked it or not. The page had turned--I had fallen off the page of yesterday, and landed full force here in today.
It wasn't even that I wanted to stay in bed because I was worried about what might or might not happen today--I guess I didn't put that much thought into it. It was more about familiarity and comfort. But if I had stayed in bed, I would not have experienced the moments of my life
today. There are pieces of today that will never come again. I will cross paths with people who I may never again encounter, even if it's only for just a moment as we wait to cross the street. I will step in a puddle that may not be there tomorrow. The snowflake that falls on my knit cap will never again exist as it did in that moment. Whether I see it or not, there is change happening around me, every minute of every day. Yes, there are some things that remain the same. At the end of the day, I will walk out of the same building and go to the same garage. I'll get into the same car and drive to the same house. But when I get there, I will encounter two dogs who have had days of their own (albeit not very exciting ones, as they were in their crates all day). I will talk to my mom, who has experienced her own moments and seen her own snowflakes and faces of strangers. There is no way to stop the movement of the world around me, as much as sometimes I might want to.
As I stepped out of the garage this morning and looked up at the sky, I thought about how a
day is just a smaller representation of this journey of life. There were choices I made on my way to work this morning: choices on which street to take, and which CD to listen to. Small, seemingly insignificant choices, but decisions that set the course of my day. If I had listened to country music instead of worship, I would no doubt be in a different mood and state of mind as I walked into work. I might respond differently to the group of teens I chatted with on the street. I would probably be entertaining completely different thoughts as I climbed up the seven flights of stairs to my office. Our lives are full of choices and options ... some of the choices lead to good, and some lead to bad ... but they are all real, and we must go one way or the other. To stand still is to miss out on living, and in essence eventually to stop living altogether.
There are choices that lay ahead for me, changes that make me a bit sad when I think about them. But I move forward, knowing that He has a plan in all of this, and it is up to me to make choices and really
live these moments and these days, trusting that He will guide the current that carries me through this life.
IF YOU WANT to get the hang of it [incarnation], think how you would like to become a slug or a crab.
- C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
I don't think I would much like to be a slug
or a crab, thanks. Makes me glad that God is a little less self-centered than I am.
good readin'
I just read
this article, and I loved it. He totally hit it right on.
The author has a
blog too, and I like it.
Check him out.
all I want for Christmas is a shirt with sleeves
This morning I was touched by the Christmas spirit through a very unlikely source: a Kenny Chesney song. That's right, Kenny Chesney, the hit country superstar who doesn't seem to own a single shirt with sleeves. Through some confusion at Columbia House Music, I ended up with his heartwarming Christmas album,
All I Want for Christmas is a real good tan. It arrived yesterday, just in time to stir up the magic of Christmas in my cold heart.
Against my better judgment, I opened the CD and popped it my car's CD player last night, but I didn't drive much so I never got past the third song. This morning I forgot the CD was in the player, but I let it go. The seventh track is what hit me. Here are the lyrics to
Just a Kid:
Well the news spread through Jerusalem, tonight a child is born
There are shepherds fallin' to their knees, and angels blowin' horns
But in their golden halls the Pharisees scoffed and drank their wine
They said "it's only Hebrew prophesy, we don't care and besides
He's just a kid, that's all He is.
One more pebble in the gravel, one more rumor in the rabble.
How can He be king?
He's just a kid."
Well in no time it seemed the world was knockin' on His door
Performing miracles and wonders they had never see before
Soon the Pharisees stopped laughing, the silver sum was paid
And near the end He knelt down in the garden and He prayed:
I'm just a kid
That's all I am
I'll need Your strength to see me through it
If it is Your will I'll do it
But how can I be king
I'm just a kid?
Now I think about the Baby and the Man at Christmas time
Of mothers, sons and fathers and children just like mine
About the power in unselfishness, love and sacrifice
The Gift that we were given and the price.
How the news spread through Jerusalem, tonight a child is born
There are shepherds falling to their knees, and angels blowin' horns
I wonder how on Earth the Pharisees could scoff and drink their wine
And say "He's only Hebrew prophesy, we don't care and besides
He's just a kid, that's all He is.
One more pebble in the gravel, one more rumor in the rabble.
And how can He be king?
He's just a kid"
Oh how can He be king?
He's just a kid.
The whole idea of Jesus being all man, but also all God is something that I have been pondering quite a bit lately. At church on Sunday my pastor was talking about how Christ came into the very creation that He created, and basically started from scratch. He got me thinking about things I have thought of before, but haven't really thought about in a while. How Jesus became just like you and me. He learned to walk just like you and I did. He learned to talk, read, use proper grammar (Hebrew, I assume, but do we really know?), eat with utensils, honor His mother and father, and not get into fights with the other kids. He played hide and seek, He fell and scraped His knees, maybe He broke an arm or a leg in some rough game of Hebrew football. Maybe He had crooked teeth and a base case of acne, and maybe He went through that awkward stage where He was nervous to talk to girls.
It's so wild to think of this Deity shuffling along the dusty roads on his way home from school or the temple, maybe taking a detour to run to the creek and skip some stones or go jumping into a cool river on a hot, sticky summer day. And yet, even though He came and walked this earth and seemed so much like you and I, He was set apart. He came to save us, and He knew that was His purpose even as a child. Talk about having the weight of the world on His shoulders ... this little guy really did. And yet this kid was more than "just a kid" ... He was a kid-sized king.
If Kenny Chesney only knew how his song inspired me.
ring dem christmas bells
I'm finally catching the Christmas spirit. Or maybe it's just a cold I'm catching ... I'm not sure.
On Saturday night, my niece and I took our spot outside one of the local mall entrances, armed with (very loud) bells and very warm hats and mittens. This was our second year volunteering to ring bells for the Salvation Army. I don't know what made me think of volunteering last year, but I signed up and then I thought of asking my niece if she wanted to join me. I thought then that she was quite possibly the coolest 5-year-old around, for being willing to hang out with her boring ol' aunt for a couple hours in the cold Rochester winter. This year I decided she is definitely the coolest 6-year-old in these parts. She lasted the entire three and a half hours, and she stood next to me almost the whole time. A few hours into our shift my mom came with hot chocolate to warm us up, and she brought Sarah one of those folding chairs to sit on. So she did end up sitting for a little while, inside the mall entrance to warm up a bit. But still, she was tough.
And let's face it, she was cute. She was the reason that cologne-soaked teenage boys stopped and rummaged around for dimes and nickels. Her little rosy cheeks tugged on the hearts of shopped-out housewives and desperate young husbands on a quest for the "perfect gift" for their sweetheart. I actually saw a couple people back up and reach for their wallets, after seeing Sarah standing there smiling shyly and ringing the bell to her own rhythm. I am quite sure that the donations doubled or tripled because of the little blonde cutie standing next to me. And I couldn't help but feel the warmth of pride, just for standing next to this little person who could be hanging out on the couch watching
Shrek for the 52nd time, but was instead bundled up, standing outside the mall, ringing a bell to "raise money to help people who need it" (her explanation to another little girl of why she was there).
My disgust with the commercialization and consumer-driven approach we take to Christmas didn't stand up too well on Saturday night. Oh sure, I still looked with pity on the harried shoppers stumbling out of the mall with their burdens of bags and boxes and
stuff. But I guess that night I saw a glimmer of hope, in the eyes of my niece, but also in the eyes and smiles of people who stopped to put a penny, a quarter, or a dollar in the red kettle.
I think God used Sarah that night to remind these people (and me) that Christmas is about something so much more than buying and buying and making sure to get gift receipts for ease of returning and exchanging. In the face of a child, we're reminded of the hope and joy that Christmas should bring to each of us. The best gift of Christmas, the gift of a baby being born in the squalor and humility of a manger, entering into a world that didn't deserve him and wouldn't welcome him ... this is a gift that can't be wrapped up in pretty paper or adorned with a shiny bow. It's a gift that is best seen in the joy of the heart of one who realizes that there is no better gift to be had.
makes my heart melt
This song. Every time I hear it, I feel this aching in my heart. I'm not sure what it's for, and I'm not sure why I feel it. I love the song ... and I almost sort of like the feeling it gives me, even though it is this unexplainable peaceful sort of sadness.
That's all.
everyone else is doing it
It seems the latest rage is stealing quizzes or things from other people's blogs. I have decided that I feel left out of the whole stealing thing, so I'm copying
Dave's lead and using his quiz that he stole from
someone else's blog. That said, here you go (this is also a test to see how many people actually read my blog and will bother to comment ... for ease of use, feel free to use answers that you might have used in another person's quiz):
1) Recommend me:
(a) a movie
(b) a book
(c) a song
2) Ask me any three questions you want and I will probably answer them honestly.
3) Copy this and continue this trend so that others can feel guilted into commenting on your blog.
my #1 guy
So this morning I was reading yesterday's devotional thingy in
Reflections for Ragamuffins (yes, I'm a day behind), and as usual, I was struck by how much the words spoke to where I am right now.
Here's the reading in its entirety:
My Most Intimate Relationship
The traditional hymn sung in many churches on Sunday morning, "Christ Jesus Victor, Christ Jesus Ruler, Christ Jesus Lord and Redeemer," implies that the relationship with Jesus is the most intense and intimate of all my relations. Is this really true? In gut-level honesty, what rules our lives as we prepare for Christmas? What has power over us?
First, I suppose it's people. Those who speak to me; the men and women whose words I read. Those with whom I associate or would like to associate; those who give to me and those who refuse; those who help and those who hinder; those whom I like and those whom I do not like. Such people occupy my attention, fill my thoughts, in a sense, rule in me.
Jesus Christ? Well, he counts, but only after I have finished with the others. Only when they and their claims leave me time for him. Sometimes these others occupy so much of my time that the whole day slips by without a thought of the Lord of my life. Even at worship, I can be so distracted by my friends and enemies that I forget to lift up my mind and heart to him. Oh, I may recite a few mechanical prayers, but my thoughts are somewhere else. "This people gives me lip service," Isaiah heard the God of Israel say, "but their heart is far from me." Like King Claudius in Shakespeare's Hamlet: "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go."
I sort of feel like lately my life has been too people-focused. I know there's this delicate balance, and usually I tend to be more on the side that shies away from putting too much trust in people or relying on others too much. And then I feel like I'm just being stubborn and prideful. Lately I have met a few really great people and I have very much been enjoying my relationships with them. And I wonder if I have allowed those relationships to take away a bit from my relationship with Christ. So, while I know it is important to accept the help of others and feel that communion with the fellow travelers on this journey of life, the most important relationship in my life needs to be my relationship with Christ.
In a kingdom and in a heart, there can only be one
ruler ... to have more than one person or thing in charge would result in absolute chaos. During this time of year it's easy to get distracted with questions of what gifts to
get for others, and all the things that we need to
do. It's my hope that I am able to keep my life under the lordship of the One whose arrival we celebrate in the first place. In quietness and in strength he came into this world ... in quietness and strength I pray He rules our lives and thoughts in this season of celebration.
challenge o' the day
So, here's a challenging feat: sitting through a planning meeting, discussing what I'm going to work on this coming year, and trying to act interested (when I know very well that I won't be here for the coming year to work on any of it). I think I pulled it off though, with an appropriate mixed expression of both excitement and concern for my workload and those of my teammates.
Yep, you read that right ... I won't be at my current job for the coming year. I'm leaving. I just accepted a position at my alma mater,
Houghton College. Sure did. This change is something I've wrestled with for a little while now. I have been nursing this hunger to get out of this job and do something that has a little more meaning, and I'm not sure I have the energy to cater to the hunger anymore. It has been eating away at my soul for too long. I feel like I have lost part of myself in this position.
Even the city (which I used to love) is starting to give me a headache. The busyness and the hustle and bustle of moving quickly but going nowhere ... I'm tired of it. I know that Rochester isn't exactly a monster metropolis or anything, but still -- it's enough of a city that it feels like a city. It smells like a city. It has garbage blowing around on the sidewalk like a city. And it drains me like a city. I admit ... there is life here (sometimes), and there are plays and concerts and coffeeshops. But I think I would appreciate this things even more if I didn't have them all the time. How fun would it be to
go to the city for a big weekend away, after having spent all week long in small-town America or farmland USA? I'm sure some of you who are
from small-town America or farmland USA might not share my feelings, but just humor me on this one.
So, I'm leaving this job. This office that has inspired so many posts of me reaching out to you, in an effort to remind myself that there is life outside of this brick building. There is more to the world than periods and commas and spreadsheets and deadlines. And, though the position I'm taking isn't "Official Life Improver of Everyone in the World" or "Person Designated to Help All Those in Need and Soothe All Aching Hearts", it's more of a step in the right direction. It will mean I'm plugged into a college atmosphere, and that I'm that much closer to these young adults who are in such a vulnerable state. There are all kinds of questions floating around in their heads, and they are just beginning to catch a glimpse of how big the world really is outside of the college cafeteria and the socially charged Campus Center.
And I'll be that much closer to the library I used to love, where there are dusty books calling my name even as I write this. Philosophy books and theology books, Amy Carmichael books and stories of missionaries of whom I've never even heard. And I can't wait to get my staff library card and get at those books again.
I'll also begin my journey to my long-term goal of teaching. I'm going to start doing some stuff online ... and eventually (hopefully by early 2006), I will be where I want to be ... teaching out west. It's so hard to believe that all of this is actually happening. I feel like I'm in a dream, and I don't want to move too quickly or tell too much, lest I wake up and find it all to be a figment of my imagination. But it's really happening. I look back over the past four or five years (since college) and I am able to see the pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting together. Choices I have made, relationships I have had, good things and bad things I have done, apartments I have lived in, trips I have taken, sunrises and sunsets I have witnessed, moments where God's voice was a quiet whisper, and moments where His voice was so loud it hurt to hear it ... and I can see how it is that I am where I am right now, in this moment. And there's no place I'd rather be.
So, maybe the early challenge of the day was getting through that planning meeting. The challenge I face right now is seeing this moment for all that it is: the grace and sovereignty of God permeating my life, and me letting go and letting it happen.
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
To the dapper young fella who held the door open for me this morning as we stepped out into a winter wonderland -- thank you. We were both rushing out of the garage, in a hurry to get to our warm, stuffy offices. But the moment we stepped out into a curtain of the white fluffy stuff, the office didn't seem all that important. You started whistling "Dashing through the snow", and at first I was a little annoyed by the cheesiness of it. But then we had one of those moments ... nothing weird or romantic or cosmic or anything like that. We just both looked away from the mesmerizing white stuff and at each other and I felt a connection. Just a quick moment of connecting with another person, in a brief epiphany where we each realized that this was what it was all about. The magic of the wintertime, the sheer, silly delight that something as simple as snow can bring. I'm sure as you went your way and I went mine, we couldn't help but travel back through the memories to thoughts of building snowmen with the kids from the neighborhood. Snowball fights and the unpleasant feeling of snow somehow finding its way into your boots (even though every inch of your body was covered by your snowsuit, hat, scarf, gloves, and whatever else your mother thought was necessary to prohibit much freedom of movement).
Even now as I gaze out my office window at the little white flakes floating through the air, I can't help but feel a certain happiness. Even though I'm
all grown up and can't exactly run outside and start building snowmen in the middle of downtown, the winter brings back this part of me that is full of excitement and joy. I watched my dogs as I walked them this morning, and they absolutely LOVE the snow. They tackle each other and roll around in it, they stick their noses in it, and they eat it as they run through the soft stuff. They're like little kids. They don't complain that they're cold, even if they're turning blue and can't stop shivering. They want more. They want to play. And even if I don't run and play (and tackle other people), I like watching it. I don't think I can ever live somewhere where there's NO snow at all. If I have children someday, I want them to experience the joy of bundling up so much that they can't even move, and running out into the snow to build a snowman or pelt their mom with a snowball.
I certainly don't need lots of snow, and I'm not sure I need the cold that comes with it ... but there's something magical about stepping outside into a curtain of white. So for now, let it snow.
the makings of a good morning
Take one
Audible Sigh (Vigilantes of Love) CD and listen to it on the drive into work on a rainy day, setting track 7 on
repeat if so inclined. Sip your freshly brewed cup of Tim Horton's coffee slowly as you amble in to work. Sit down at your desk to discover that your morning meeting (the one for which you were unprepared) has been cancelled and you have an unexpected hour of your day free. Briefly entertain the idea of using this hour to get ahead on work, but instead reach into your shoulder bag for your planner and--to your surprise--discover
The Ragamuffin Gospel there. Remember that you slipped it into your bag last night after you re-read a few pages and were struck by what a great book it really is, and was reminded of why you love the book in the first place.
And this, in a nutshell, was my good morning. Shortly after that, things evolved into another mundane day ... but for a little while my office was a nice and happy place to be.
Last night I was telling someone about this book (
The Ragamuffin Gospel), and I was trying to explain what it is about the book that is so great. I couldn't do it. It's just one of those books that hits some nerve deep inside of you, almost rendering you speechless so that you can't even verbalize what it is that happened. Brennan Manning has a gift for weaving words together in such a way that they can be read by anyone and somehow applied to each person's heart in a very personal way. I suppose that's what good authors do ... they create masterpieces that can be seen by many different eyes, and felt by many different hearts, in many different ways. Rich Mullins saw it (read the Testimony section in the front of the book), my mom saw it when she bought the book, and I saw it when I snuck it from my mom's bookshelf years and years ago (and then again last night).
I love Manning's introductory schpiel in
A Word Before ... I read it, and I know this book is for me ... "the wobbly and weak-kneed who know they don't have it altogether and are too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace." That sounds a bit familiar, eh?
I'm sure as I re-read this one, I will be posting more and quoting more, but for now, this will do. It's only a few pages into Chapter One:
The Good News means we can stop lying to ourselves. The sweet sound of amazing grace saves us from the necessity of self-deception. It keeps us from denying that though Christ was victorious, the battle with lust, greed, and pride still rages within us. As a sinner who has been redeemed, I can acknowledge that I am often unloving, irritable, angry, and resentful with those closest to me. When I go to church I can leave my white hat at home and admit I have failed. God not only loves me as I am, but also knows me as I am. Because of this I don't need to apply spiritual cosmetics to make myself presentable to Him. I can accept ownership of my poverty and powerlessness and neediness.
As C.S. Lewis says in The Four Loves, "Grace substitutes a full, childlike and delighted acceptance of our need, a joy in total dependence. The good man is sorry for the sins which have increased his need. He is not entirely sorry for the fresh need they have produced."
There have been some fresh needs surfacing in my life lately, and I am definitely not sorry that they are there. If there were no needs, there would not be the opportunity for God to fill them. And I would much rather have the little chinks in my life and the gaps in my faith filled with Him and His grace instead of my second-rate cement or glue or whatever it is I try to use to fix things.
so you better get this party started
Last night was my company
Holiday party. Lest there be any confusion, let me clarify that it was NOT a
Christmas party, even though there were Christmas trees present, Christmas carols playing in the form of lovely Muzak, and several people wearing the official "Christmas colors" of red and green. Though I suppose all of these things could be referred to as celebrations of the holidays, and not necessarily having anything to do with Christ or mas (where does the "mas" come from anyway?).
It would have been frowned upon to have wished anyone there a merry Christmas. Instead the proper greeting (as you sip your alcohol provided free of charge by the company that strives so hard to be politically correct) is "Happy Holidays."
So, be happy, imbibe on various spirits and concoctions, eat lots and lots of fattening food ... but don't you dare wish anyone a Merry Christmas. To do so would just be utterly offensive and in poor taste. We won't talk about the fact that perhaps the freely flowing alcohol might have offended someone who just finished coming off a few difficult years of sobriety after a devestating bout with alcohol. And we sure won't discuss the pain that was perhaps being felt by a party attendee who just overcame a serious eating disorder, as she stood surrounded by rows of tables covered with food. Please kindly avert your gaze from the couple (heterosexual or homosexual) bumping and grinding on the dance floor, and try to overlook the fact that both of them are married to other people. Laugh and chalk it up to the holidays, when everyone is happy and gay. We can all drink and eat and have a good time and flirt a little too much with people to whom we have no right to even stand close. Tomorrow is a new work day, and we will all go about our business as usual. It is, after all, the holidays ... and we should all be happy. Just please, oh please, don't you dare wish me a Merry Christmas.
love, hate, glowing Santas, and the rurburbs
Just under a month ago I moved in with my mom. Yes, I admit it. Me, a grown adult who owns my very own sectional sofa and enough tupperware to accommodate a small family of four ... I moved in with my mom. I downsized from a two bedroom spacious apartment five minutes from work to a room filled with a bed and not much else, twenty minutes from work. Sounds pretty nonsensical, doesn't it? Why in the world would I move from a great apartment to a small bedroom from which I must emerge 40 minutes earlier in the morning so that I can share kitchen time with my mom and still make it out the door in time for my drive in to the
city?
Well, (since you asked) I'll tell you why. Because I'm a grown adult who owns my very own sectional sofa and enough tupperware to accommodate a small family of four ... and I have the bills to prove it. And also because I'm a grown adult who is planning a semi-big location and/or career change sometime soon, and I need to save some money so that I can actually follow through with my plans.
Don't get me wrong, things with mom aren't bad. I don't feel like moving back home has caused me to regress from my 27 years of living in this crazy world. In some ways, it's a relief to know that I don't have to worry about life being quite so cool anymore. This probably won't make much sense, but my apartment before was just
so great and I loved it
so much that I almost felt guilty about it. I felt a little prideful, because I was just so content in my apartment with all my
stuff. So, sure, the move has been a big transition ... but it's a good transition. I feel like I'm returning to my roots or something deep like that. Like I am sloughing off all the stupid layers of independence and self-importance and being reminded of the person I never really was, and the person I want to be. A person just traveling light through this world, carrying as little as I need to get by. And I like it.
In the next few months I may make another move ... it all depends on if a certain job is offered to me. If it is, I look forward to moving with less junk holding me down -- less to pack, less to unpack, and less to hold and stare at as I ponder if I will ever really need it, or if I can safely toss it out and not feel any regret.
By now you're probably wondering what any of this has to do with love, hate, glowing Santas, or the rurburbs (whatever those are). Well, I guess I didn't go into too much detail on the neighborhood in which my mom lives. It's a rural suburban area -- I coined a name the other day, and this is the first time I'm sharing it with anyone ... I live in the
rurburbs. Sort of like a rural area, in that there are cows and yards with barns ... but also like the suburbs, where the houses all tend to look the same and people actually turn and look when a muffler-less car is driving down the street (a familiar, almost comforting sound in the city). This is not really an area in which I would ever choose to live. I feel like these people just need to decide if they want the country of if they want the safe conformity of the suburbs. Make a decision already. You can't park your rusty pickup truck next to your shiny new red Beetle and expect it to be accepted without someone kicking up a fuss. And I'm the one kicking up the fuss.
When I walk my dogs in the morning on the streets near my mom's house, I feel like all the good suburban housewives are looking at me with my big baggy sweat pants and my hiking boots and my hair that's still a little messy from just having gotten out of bed, and they can see through it all. They know I'm from the city and that I hate their little glowing Santas that populate their front yards. They know I laugh at the way the people in the neighborhood almost seem to coordinate which blinking lights they will hang on which part of their house and what color bulbs they will use this year. To some, this may be just a normal part of suburban life ... to me, it's a spectacle of the unoriginality of people.
Maybe it's not as big of a deal as I'm making it. After all, there are nice things about living out where I am now. When I take my dogs for our late-night walks at midnight or later, I don't have to worry about running into some dangerous criminal walking the streets ... because there's NO ONE walking the streets. All of the houses are dark, and the only sounds I hear are the clicking of my dogs' nails on the clean asphalt streets. I can walk down the middle of the busiest one lane road and not worry about getting hit by a car. It's a little eerie, but it's a nice kind of eerie, I guess. I wouldn't really say I
love this feature, but I do like it a lot (so I guess the title of this post should really be "
like, hate, glowing Santas, and the rurburbs", but I'm not changing it now).
Quite the profound post today -- sorry about that. I just feel like I have been inundated lately with reindeer with nodding heads and giant snowmen tipping their hats at me as I stumble by with my dogs and grumble about the sadness of it all. And I know that those reindeer and snowmen will soon be gone, and maybe I'll even lament their absence ... but for now I'm stuck in the rurburbs with glowing Santas and quiet streets.
bah humbug
Read
this, and tell me you don't get all carried away in the Christmas spirit.
a few of my favorite things
Twinkly lights on trees.
Orange Cafe au Laits.
Narrow, squeaky theatre chairs.
Not enough snow to go snowboarding, but just enough for a 1-minute snowball fight.
A certain ninny boy from South Carolina.
The incomprehensible grace of God.
These are a few of my favorite things from this past weekend.
It was one of those weekends that found me surprised when Monday arrived. I haven't had one of those in a while. I didn't realize how full it was until last night, when I crashed into my bed at about 9:30 and woke up in the morning with a sweater and jeans on. My dogs were licking my face, begging for me to take them for a walk, and all I could do was lay there and stare at the clock, which I was convinced was lying to me.
Even now, as I sit at my desk and try to calculate just
how much I really don't want to be here ... I feel unworthy. Unworthy of such a wonderful weekend. Undeserving of these feelings I'm having. Not entitled to feel this much happiness and peace all at the same time. Not good enough to fully embrace this new day in which God has placed me. I feel like there is something I should have done to merit these things, as if there is anything I could ever really do to deserve any of the good things that God brings into my life. And this is when God reminds me that there is nothing I could ever do to deserve any of this. I scrub these filthy rags, somehow trying to make them clean and presentable and pleasing to the Lord, hoping that they will be an offering suitable for Him. But these grand ideas of my self-righteousness are just that --
ideas. God looks at them, and looks at the desperate expression on my face, and He gently pushes the rags aside. "Stop your vain efforts to please me" He tells me. There's nothing I could ever do ... nothing that I need to do. And yet it's almost as if I find this comfort in
trying to please Him, and
trying to do things on my own. It's so much easier to feel like I earned something, and I guess my stubborn pride tells me that I need to earn my own way. The crazy but wonderful thing about grace is that I
can't earn my way and I
don't need to even try.
I was recently reading a biography of a 19th century Scottish minister named Horatius Bonar. I admit, I was originally just attracted by the name Horatius. But as I read more about him, and more of his writings, I saw a passion in him that doesn't seem to be in many ministers today. I don't exactly agree with all his theological stances, but there was a fire in this guy's heart that would probably be nice to have around right now. I stumbled across the following quote as I was in the midst of my struggle with grace and my feelings of unworthiness:
Grace burst forth spontaneously from the bosom of eternal love and rested not until it had removed every impediment and found its way to the sinner's side, swelling round him in full flow. Grace does away the distance between the sinner and God, which sin had created. Grace meets the sinner on the spot where he stands; grace approaches him just as he is. Grace does not wait till there is something to attract it nor till a good reason is found in the sinner for its flowing to him. ... It was free, sovereign grace when it first thought of the sinner; it was free grace when it found and laid hold of him; and it is free grace when it hands him up into glory.
- Horatius Bonar
By the way, I'm back, and hopefully I'll be writing more than once a month.
