various and random things
I watched the movie version of "The Five People You Meet in Heaven" the other day, and I really didn't like it. Something about it bothered me very much, and I'm not completely sure what it was. I think maybe it's the way that some people live their lives with the same kind of expectation implied by the name of that movie, and focus on how their lives will make sense
after they die. Maybe instead we should focus on the (more than) five people you meet on earth, and what we can learn from them while we're actually still alive and able to do something about it.
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Tonight while playing piano, I stopped for a moment to dig through one of the boxes of old piano books that came from my mom's house ... and I stumbled across a thin songbook with yellowed, dog-eared pages and the title "Sacred Treasures" written in cursive on the front page. I looked inside and was so happy to see that "Church in the
Wildwood" is among the songs in the book. I am looking forward to Friday night at the rest home, and surprising Linda with that song. She has been asking me for MONTHS, and I had given up hope on ever finding the music in print ... but tonight, much by accident, I came across a book that I am sure I played from religiously as a little girl, when I didn't even know about Linda or a town called Sanford.
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Tonight, in our women's small group meeting, we talked about how we carry the fragrance of Christ with us wherever we go. Then we launched into a discussion about different scents and the feelings and memories they evoke within us. While the other women talked about perfume and food, I immediately thought of rain and the woods. Am I weird? I have very distinct memories associated with the scent of rain -- before, during, and after (there are different smells!) ... and also with the woods, and dirt, and the ocean, and campfires. I don't have too many memories of indoor scents. Why is that?
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I am deeper into Erich Fromm's "The Art of Loving", and I am spellbound. The other night I read the section on the love of God. Fromm was not a Christian, and I think that's why I am so captivated by his words and ideas. He was not afraid to push some boundaries and broach difficult subjects. In this section, he presents the idea that there are both motherly and fatherly aspects of the love of God. The way we view the character of the love of God depends on these aspects, as well as our own maturity and our concept of and love for God.
The patriarchal aspect makes me love God like a father; I assume he is just and strict, that he punishes and rewards; and eventually that he will elect me as his favorite son; as God elected Abraham-Israel, as Isaac elected Jacob, as God electeds his favorite nation. In the matriarchal aspect of religion, I love God as an all-embracing mother. I have faith in her love, that no matter whether I am poor and powerless, no matter whether I have sinned, she will love me, she will not prefer any other of her children to me; whatever happens to me, she will rescue me, will save me, will forgive me. Needless to say, my love for God and God's love for me cannot be separated.
Here's a part that really gets me: Fromm suggests that God goes through phases. At first He is a jealous God who considers man as His property ... this is when He drives man out of paradise, and destroys the human race by flood and saves only Noah (his favorite son), and demands that Abraham kill Isaac in order to prove his love for God. Then a new phase begins as God makes a covenant with Noah and promises never to destroy the human race again, thus binding Himself by His promises and also by His own principle of
justive (through which He also yields to Abraham's demand to spare Sodom if there are at least ten just men). Fromm goes on to say that God is transformed from a type of tribal chief into a loving father, into a father who is bound by principles that he created ... and even beyond that to suggest that, in the Bible we see God being transformed from a father figure into an actual symbol of those principles (of justice, truth and love).
God is truth, God is justice. In this development God ceases to be a person, a man, a father; he becomes the symbol of the principle of unity behind the manifoldness of phenomena, of the vision of the flower which will grown from the spiritual seed within man. God cannot have a name. A name always denotes a thing, or a person, something finite. How can God have a name, if he is not a person, not a thing.
... To say of God that he is wise, strong, good implies again that he is a person; the most I can do is to say what God is not, to state negative attributes, to postulate that he is not limited, not unkind, not unjust. The more I know what God is not, the more knowledge I have of God.
... The truly religious person, if he follows the essence of the monotheistic idea, does not pray for anything, does not expect anything from God; he does not love God as a child loves his father or mother; he has acquired the humility of sensing his limitations, to the degree of knowing that he knows nothing about God. God becomes to him a symbol in which man, at an earlier stage of his evolution, has expressed the totality of that which man is striving for, the realm of the spiritual world, of love, truth, and justice.
Hm ... things to think about. I am inundated by the idea that my thoughts of God are much, much too small.
I read this earlier today on the blog of a woman who claims to be an "ex-Christian", and for some reason it really bothers me.When I relied on God and prayer to meet my needs, I became lazy about meeting them myself. When a stumbling block appeared in my path, I didn’t see it as a challenge to overcome, but instead as a “sign” that perhaps I was on the wrong path (compared to what was meant to be). For me, there is a great deal of strength in taking responsibility for my own behaviors and choices.
I was also part of a really good conversation tonight about how critical feedback and authentic challenges are more helpful than sugary-sweet compliments. I was comforted to learn that other people value real, cut-to-the-bone criticism and doubting and questions more than just automatic responses like, "good job" and "great writing!" When people challenge us and ask us questions or to back up what we say, we are forced to re-examine, and most likely to learn even more in the process. We grow more than we would if we just got a nice pat on our ego and kept on floating along. And we respect (or we should respect) people who say, "heyyyy ... wait a minute" instead of just saying, "that's great" and leaving us wondering if they even read or listened or thought about what we said or wrote.
I wonder if God is like this. I wonder if maybe He might respect us more if we question things more, instead of just glibly saying, "good job, God" and "keep up the good work". Or, "I trust you just because", even when our souls are screaming out, "WHY IN THE WORLD ARE YOU ALLOWING THIS TO HAPPEN???? HOW CAN YOU BE GOOD, AND GOD, AND SUPPOSEDLY LOVE ME, AND YET I SUFFER THROUGH MISERY AND DISTRESS???" In the Bible we read stories of people basically making demands from God. If they were upset they screamed out to Him. If they wanted something, they shouted for Him to give what they desired. They grabbed God by the metaphorical collar and demanded that He listen and pay heed to their requests. Where has that boldness gone? Our prayers are like limp shadows and whispers compared to the bold colors, shouts, and proclamations of old.
I think part of the reason the above quote bothered me so much is because I think it's probably a pretty accurate depiction of how so many Christians do "use" prayer. They quietly offer up words of humility and surrender to a God who can see through to our hearts and our real intentions. He hears our thee's and thou's and verily's, but He sees the contrary way in which we live our lives. Prayer is not an excuse to lay something down before God and then meekly walk away. Prayer is a tool that God uses (if we don't get our "humble" selves in the way) to stir us up and get us going and show us how much we CAN do on our own. The catch though is that we're not REALLY doing it on our own. Through the act of prayer, God changes us, empowers us, and -- if we're doing it how we were meant to -- the last thing we would become is "lazy".
I am reading another book
I should see what the record is for "number of books being read by one person at one time".
Here is a quote from the one I just started. It's sorta messy, but I like it:
If faith is understood as belief that something is true, doubt is incompatible with the act of faith. If faith is understood as being ultimately concerned, doubt is a necessary element in it. It is a consequence of the risk of faith.
(from Dynamics of Faith, by Paul Tillich)
Freedom Live-rs
Last night I went to see the movie “Freedom Writers”. I left the theater with that “I need to be an English teacher and change the world” feeling again, and I was seriously thinking about going home and transferring to a Masters in Education program. But, after lots of thought, and even some tears, I realized that it (whatever “it” is) is not so much about teaching in and of itself, as it is about having a vision and then wholeheartedly changing that vision into a reality.
This has been something I have been doing for years, in one way or another, and I believe it has become a necessary life function for me. I breathe, I drink water and coffee, I exercise, I laugh, I cry, I sleep, I crave wide open places and clear skies, and I look around me and see things through these strange lenses that enable me to see through current reality and perceive the potential reality. Sometimes it’s a wonderful thing, sometimes it hurts so bad I wish I could just tear off those “what could be” viewing goggles.
Yesterday I bumped into someone that I hadn’t seen in a little while. She and I had never really been close friends, but she was one of those people with whom – from the very first conversation – I felt an immediate camaraderie. She lives out her heart, and she pours herself into others. While talking to this woman yesterday, I sensed discouragement because she had chased hard after a vision, only to find that those around her basically withdrew their support and allowed her to fall hard, after they pulled that vision away from her. Here is part of an email I sent her yesterday:
I have noticed that whenever I am really passionate about something, I often seem to find myself alone or with very few others. I think it's because people get uncomfortable or maybe feel insecure when they see someone who is good at what they do, or whose passion drives them to want to do more. The strength of our passion and conviction reminds others of the weakness or lack of their own. When we chase hard after what we believe in, we create a ripple – sometimes even a strong current – in the previously stagnant waters … and we stir up lots of muck that others KNOW is there, but about which they are unmotivated to do anything. People with colorful visions and big ideas are a threat to black and white worlds of small ideas.
I could have been writing those same words in reference to the scenario depicted in the movie last night. Where other “teachers” saw future gangsters and criminals, a lone visionary saw promising, talented students with untapped strength. Though she was faced with opposition and a staunch “don’t rock the boat” mentality from every angle, this woman chased hard after a vision she had for these young minds – a vision that was fully realized, and even today is being increasingly realized.
I looked around me in the theater last night and found myself getting angry to see people more interested in their popcorn and Milk Duds, than they were about being inspired and moved to act by the story of courage and passion flickering on the screen in front of them. It would be so much easier to write the movie off as “a movie for teachers”, or “the story of a radical”, than to realize that the moral of the story is about LIVING.
This process of visualize something in a “potential” form can be applied to just about anything. I open the cupboards and see flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, chocolate chips, and all kinds of other things … but I let my mind take over after my eyes stop processing, and I see cookies, cakes, brownies, pancakes, bread, and all kinds of other good things. I look at a skein of yarn and a crochet needle, and I see hats, scarves, gloves, blankets, rugs, and other things that I won’t be able to make for several more years. When I open up a blank notebook, I see a page beckoning me to spill out my thoughts, ideas, dreams, frustrations, joys, and visions. I see a guitar leaning against the wall and I can actually HEAR the music playing. The same with my piano … and the same, in a much larger way with the children with which I work. I meet a child who slouches in a chair and won’t even make eye contact, and I can see him as a distinguished, confident, young man who may very well go on to discover the cure for arthritis. I spend time with a slightly overweight young lady who constantly tugs at her ill-fitting clothes and laughs a little too long, and my mind sees her as a poised, well-dressed woman who will pursue the first woman Presidency.
There is a verse in the Bible (I'm not sure of the reference) that states, “Without a vision the people perish”. As long as I am alive, I intend to be full of visions, and caught up in the process of chasing after those visions, capturing them, and turning them into reality.
I just started a new book
on relationships, and here is an excerpt:
... The single woman is excessively utilitarian, and auto-determining; she defines her relationships, her circumstances, and her future, according to her desires. The "other" only comes into the picture insofar as that person is useful to her. She spends her time resenting what she does not have, especially the lack of an intimate relationship, even though she bases her identity on that very lack. Her identity is about what she hasn't got (a boyfriend or a husband), not who she is.
A singular woman acts integrally. She chooses to do things because they are good in and of themselves, not because they will serve her immediate interests whether they involve dating and romance, getting a job, or any other desire. She allows herself to actually experience what a situation offers, even if she didn't foresee it. Unlike the single woman, she will go to a party simply to have fun and be with people she enjoys. If she meets someone at the party, it will be all the better. But whether or not she meets someone won't determine the success of the party.
I am so, so, so happy that I can say that the second "type" of woman more accurately describes me. The author clarifies that these terms (or ideas) apply to both men and women ... but - since she is a woman - she uses herself as an example over and over again, and thus it makes more sense for her to describe others who are more similar to her (in their female-ness).
More about this book later. I like books, ideas, words, thoughts, images, and language ... a lot.
I'm edumacated
'n stuff.
Today I registered for my first graduate-level class: Human Growth and Development. Here's the course description (don't be jealous!):
This course includes a survey of the organic, social, and psychological factors that influence the development of personality. It seeks to understand what makes a person distinctively different along with a critical evaluation of various theories of personality development, particularly as they relate to questions of values and religious commitment.
I know what textbook
I'll be curling up with on Friday nights! :)
Really, though, I am so very much looking forward to this new chapter.
I'm also taking an undergrad class, as one of the two prereq's that I didn't take as a happily-oblivious English major ... but I haven't actually settled on
which Psychology course I'm taking yet ... besides, none of them sound as cool as the one I just mentioned.
The Importance of Meeting Earnest
Today at the outreach center I met a man named Earnest. Yes, that's how his name is spelled (I asked just to make sure). He is 84 years old, and his wife Margaret is 85. We became quick friends after I told him that I wouldn't have guessed him to be a day over 83. He told me that so many people have it wrong today, that he gets sad because he sees so many people wasting their lives. He talked about cigarettes, alcohol, and laziness, and how all of those things will kill a person. There isn't room in his life for any of that -- he "messed around with" smoking and drinking when he was young and stupid, but he got older and grew out of the stupid. He told me that he smiles all the time, and a big part of it is because he's married to a great girl. He and Margaret still drive and "go out and about" and "love life" (the words in quotes are Earnest's own).
I could have talked to Earnest all night, but there was a line of people after him (many of whom are still stuck in the "stupid" phase, according to E's standards), so we said goodbye. As Earnest shook my hand and thanked me for the pleasure of my company, I found it interesting that his handshake is one of the firmest I have ever experienced. When Earnest walked away, there was actually a
bounce in his step. I have heard the phrase, but I have never before seen it in real-life ... and I'm pretty sure it's a sight I will not soon forget.
making up for lost time
Ok, so I am a blogging fool today.
So much good stuff that I need to share. So many good thoughts and ideas out there, and it's so encouraging to know that they are in other people's heads as much as in mine.
I read this on a friend's blog today, and it resonated well with me.
I know that God made marriage to be a love between two people who love each other as He loves His church ... and God is always using relationships to draw others to Himself. It isn't to fill ME, it is to show me HIM.
Someday maybe I will share that kind of love with a godly man, and I will know in my heart he is the one when he always points me to my Father in heaven ... and not to himself. I used to look for that "giddy" feeling. That "oh so in love" feeling. That isn't the kind of love that lasts. I see young couples all the time who are so in love for a short time ... it is the "Britney Spears" syndrome. It fades and dies because it was really lust. I am not a relationship expert, but God has taught me so much through a decade of a failed marriage. He has taught me a love that lasts and it is only in Him that I find it. So if I do meet someone and feel like I love him enough to consider giving marriage another chance, it won't be the butterflies in my stomach that let me know. It won't be the goosebumps on my arms that guide me ... it will be the reflection of Christ that I see in his face.
Nothing too deep or profound, but it makes a whole lot of sense. Not so sure about the whole Britney Spears thing, but I think she is otherwise pretty much right-on with what she says.
i like these words
Alot.
As I sipped my coffee this morning (in a mug with an intact handle), I found myself very able to relate to this:
One of my favorite coffee mugs was broken this week. Not sure how it happened. Just found it sitting there on the counter with the handle broken off. A friend had given it to me because it has one of my favorite Bible verses on it. "I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God" (Philippians 3:14).
As I stood there looking with disappointment at my handle-less cup I realized that now the mug actually illustrates the verse. Before, it was a very nice coffee cup with a really meaningful verse on it. Now, it may represent what Paul had in mind when he penned the words. "Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:12-14).
Coffee mugs are made with a purpose. Mugs are made for drinking coffee, for drinking hot chocolate, for holding pens, for collecting change. They are not made to simply sit on a shelf and gather dust. When you use a mug there is the possibility that it will get damaged or broken.
Like the coffee mug we were created with a purpose. We were created for life. We were not created to sit and watch life go by. We were created to embrace life. Jesus said it this way, "I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly" (John 10:10). Paul said we were created to do "good works" (Ephesians 2:10). The abundant life does not happen without risks. Doing good works is not without dangers.
Life is for living. When you live life, there are risks. When you live you may get hurt. When you live you may experience disappointments. When you live you may get damaged. When you live you may get broken.
When that happened to Paul, he chose to press on. He did not allow his life to end with a broken handle. He kept pushing forward. He continued to move forward toward the prize God had called him to.
My mug with no handle will most likely be reassigned to be a penholder or a change cup. It has served me well. Many good cups of coffee have been consumed from that mug. But it is time for this mug to move on to a new goal, a new purpose for being.
What about you? Has life been unkind to you lately? Have you considered retiring, sitting out the fight, being shelved? Please don’t.
Take a lesson from my mug. Even if your handle gets broken ... press on. Move forward. Your handle is broken, but you are not dead. Keep living. God has something in store for you.
-- Tom Norvell
having church in the most unlikely places
I just finished listening to this Johnny Cash song. I've heard it before, but for some reason the lyrics hit me in a new way today. I experienced one of those moments (or, more accurately, a bunch of those moments) when all different kinds of things come together.Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down
I am working on the lesson for the teen's Sunday School class tomorrow (why do the words "Sunday School" make me cringe?), thinking about the moments in which I saw God in the rest home last night, and processing words and ideas from this book I'm reading. And I can't shake the thought that somehow I'm off-target with my version of God and church and Christianity.
I was thrilled to receive this book as Christmas gift, and even more anticipatory when I read these words about the author on the front flap: she "has always been interested in discovering God in the places people say God isn't supposed to be". I feel like that's a silent, personal challenge that I instituted a while back: to discover people and places where GOD is the only possible explanation for someone acting a certain way or being in a certain place, or even saying certain things.
And, as I allow myself to get more and more involved in the messiness of other people's lives, I find that I see God more there than I do in a Sunday morning service. Last night is a good example. I really, truly did NOT feel like going to the rest home where the heat is on too high and the air always seems to carry scents of various bodily fluids. But I slowed down enough to allow my mind's eye to be filled with the visions of a crooked-tooth Donnell and a smiling Sheila, whose hair seems to be permanently in rollers. And I knew where I had to be that night. So I drove down the backroad to the building which seems to be quietly, patiently waiting for its own demise, much like those who are unfortunate enough to occupy the beds contained within.
I arrived to find the residents dutifully waiting for me. They had already turned off the television and some were rifling through the dusty hymnals, in search of their first request for the evening. Several of the women greeted me by name and welcomed me with hugs, and we entered into "church", as the residents like to call it. An amazing thing happens when I sing with people whose hearts beat stronger and more sincerely than most others that I know: my voice finds an undiscovered strength, and I surprise myself sometimes to hear notes that I otherwise am unable to reach. The music seems to somehow play itself through my often incapable fingers on the keys of ebony and ivory. And we laugh and share stories about our weeks, and I wonder why I was ever thinking about not coming. I go through this process every week, but I am always surprised by the incredible newness of how God somehow reveals Himself to me through these seasoned veterans of tears, laughter, and life.
My ideas and notions of who God is change through these experiences, as He grows larger than the boxes and compartments in which I place Him. This process sometimes hurts quite a bit, as quite often it involves re-examining my priorities. Lately I have felt like an overgrown plant on God's pruning table, and it hurts like anything to watch helplessly as God cuts away the people that I love, my ideas of what my life should look like, and the deep sense of personal right to which I hold.
I recently read the following words from Rob Bell, and I find myself really relating to what he says when speaking of the Eucharist:
"God's gift to us. Our gratitude. The Eucharist is where the body is broken and the blood is spilled, Jesus on the cross ...
And so we're a Eucharist for the world — we break ourselves open and pour ourselves out so that others may be fed. No wonder we're tired, deep-in-the-soul tired, sometimes. When someone has been fed, someone else had to have been broken and spilled — that's how it works ...
I break and spill with words and ink, others are broken and poured out in other ways. So there have to be these times when we let what's been broken be put back together and what's been spilled be poured back in. Cuz that's how we roll."
Somehow all of these different things come together to make me think of church, and God, and what that all looks like. Or what it should look like. Every day, everywhere I go, I am representing God and His church. I am pouring myself out in an effort to feed others, and sometimes it freakin' hurts. I run into men stumbling around in their "cleanest dirty shirts", and -- as a Christian -- I should be somehow bringing something useful to those men. If we're doing what we should be doing, there shouldn't be people around us feeling lonely, or hungry, or empty. Whatever we do, whether that be playing piano and singing with a crowd of elderly people, or stopping to buy coffee for a homeless man on the street, we have within us the ability to "have church". The Kingdom of God is something that we carry with us, all the time. When we break ourselves open and pour ourselves out, what should be flowing out of us is God and the hope that is found only in Him.
Right now I'm in the "what's been spilled is being poured back in" stage, and it hurts a whole lot. But I know that when I am filled back up again, somehow there will be more of me to give. Somehow I will carry even more of the Kingdom with me, and I look forward to more and more church services in new and unlikely places.
