My eyes have been opened recently to the magnitude of my negativity. I could sit here and blame it on being raised listening to to my mom's family sit around and talk negatively about this person/place/thing or that person/place/thing. That probably has had its influence in some way. I could blame a little on nurture and a little on nature. Blame is a nice finger-pointing position up until the point that I see it doesn't change the reality of my current situation and the reality of perceptions of me that don't rely so heavily on my sources of blame. It may not be my fault in some ways that I am who I am and that may seem unfair, but I think C.S. Lewis would use that as another example of how Satan gets a foothold.
Lately I've been getting really sick of myself and I've especially been getting sick of being sick of stuff. I'm sick of disliking churches. I'm sick of disliking Christianity. I'm sick of my fixations on people/things. I'm sick of my lack of ambition. I'm sick of believing I deserve better. I'm sick of my doubt. I'm sick of being prone to doubt. I'm sick of the negativity here in saying that I'm sick of everything.
I may even be sick of honesty. Sometimes I think if I were less jaded and more prone to trusting, believing, having faith and all that then I would probably be much more useful in this life, and I would probably have more joy. I wonder if there actually is any intended purpose in me being who I am right now. Sometimes I want to be better but most of the time I don't want that enough to actually work toward that end.
My mom told me once that I would probably have so much joy being a missionary. I have reservations about that. I know how fickle I can be. Camp was one of the most joyous experiences of my life, but I rarely spent alone time with God--even as much as that was encouraged by all of my superiors and my peers alike. I still don't spend all that much alone time with God, and when I do it's usually full of a lot shame on my end at how much my thoughts and actions show that my allegiance doesn't appear to be where I want to say it is. I feel like I'm spiritually a 5-year-old all the time. My mom tells me to say sorry to that little girl whose feelings I hurt and I mutter a half-hearted, "Sorry." I'm half-hearted in my relationship with God so usually I sit waiting for an alarm to awaken my latent soul.
"Roll Away Your Stone" -Mumford & Sons
Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find
Don’t leave me alone at this time,
For I'm afraid of what I will discover inside
Cause you told me that I would find a hole,
Within the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal,
And all the while my character it steals
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
It seems that all my bridges have been burned,
But you say that’s exactly how this grace thing works
It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart,
But the welcome I receive with the restart
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see
Darkness is a harsh term don’t you think?
And yet it dominates the things I've seen
Stars hide your fires,
These here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so, I’ll be found with my stake stuck in this ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul
But you, you’ve gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Something Pretty
Painting again! Currently I'm working on a painting for one who must not be named (for the just in case circumstance that this person is reading these words right now), and I got very excited at the idea of making a playlist for the painting. Then I started thinking how cool it would be to not only have the playlist for my listening pleasure and inspiration while painting but to also burn it to a disc and make it an accompanying gift with the painting. I'll probably start doing this, but for this particular painting, I found myself pulled solely to Enya (you're welcome or sorry to you-who-must-not-be-named (timely HP reference))--perhaps by the nature of the painting. But I think mostly it was me yearning for something pretty.
Now, there is a song called "Something Pretty" by Patrick Park. It's not really a great song, but I got hooked on it at some point this summer when I borrowed one of those OC season mixes from the library and got the song then. I walked to my first class this semester listening to this song on repeat, not recognizing the lyrics' foreshadowing for the culmination of my learning experiences this semester. Most of the song is pretty depressing... all about loneliness and ugliness and stuff, but mostly the singer begs for [you] to "show me something pretty." I didn't know then that I would be begging the same thing now at the end of the semester. I especially didn't know I'd be begging it of myself.
I'd probably have to write a lot and somehow acquire a lot of patience I don't have in order to fully unfold what I'm trying to get at, so that's not likely to happen. As I said last year, I become extra attuned to blessings and moments of nostalgia before breaks. Just a few minutes ago, I got a text from my freshman year roommate Adrienne that reads, "Listening to the song 'The Milkmaid," reminds me of you and good old freshman year.'" Me too, Adrienne, me too. In some ways I actually look back on who I was freshman year as a good representation of who "Something Pretty" is talking about. No, I don't think I was really just a "dumb punk kid," but I do think I've grown a lot since then. I've grown enough to see how much more I still need to grow. It's gotten to the point that I stood in church yesterday and before service really started, I prayed that God would show me something pretty. I prayed for God to show me those things I don't even know to ask for: love I can't understand, a faith that breaks my rational barriers, timely reading of Scripture that brings me to my knees in life-changing convictions. I begged to be something more than a "dumb punk kid." I want to be more than myself, because who I am is not a great place to settle. I don't want another year to go by and only wind up saying, "here I am, where I've been."
I think I've written a lot about clinging to who I am. At least, I've thought about it a lot. At freshman group, I got everyone to write down a long term goal they have for their lives. Mine was malleability to become who God has purposed me to be. I guess God will have his way with me no matter what, but I don't want to always have to look back over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of a passing blessed moment. I want to not only be conscious of the ways I'm changing but to also make great strides in changing myself in the ways I know I need to change. I'd like to stop complaining about the things that are wrong with me and actually open myself up to changing those things. This might require me to be who I'm not. This might test all the limits I've put on honesty and genuineness, my most prized possessions. But I'm pretty sure Jesus spit a big wad of "no" on my possessions long ago when he told me to throw all that away and follow Him. I guess I do know ugliness, but I'm begging God to show me something pretty, which is something He always promised He would do.
Now, there is a song called "Something Pretty" by Patrick Park. It's not really a great song, but I got hooked on it at some point this summer when I borrowed one of those OC season mixes from the library and got the song then. I walked to my first class this semester listening to this song on repeat, not recognizing the lyrics' foreshadowing for the culmination of my learning experiences this semester. Most of the song is pretty depressing... all about loneliness and ugliness and stuff, but mostly the singer begs for [you] to "show me something pretty." I didn't know then that I would be begging the same thing now at the end of the semester. I especially didn't know I'd be begging it of myself.
I'd probably have to write a lot and somehow acquire a lot of patience I don't have in order to fully unfold what I'm trying to get at, so that's not likely to happen. As I said last year, I become extra attuned to blessings and moments of nostalgia before breaks. Just a few minutes ago, I got a text from my freshman year roommate Adrienne that reads, "Listening to the song 'The Milkmaid," reminds me of you and good old freshman year.'" Me too, Adrienne, me too. In some ways I actually look back on who I was freshman year as a good representation of who "Something Pretty" is talking about. No, I don't think I was really just a "dumb punk kid," but I do think I've grown a lot since then. I've grown enough to see how much more I still need to grow. It's gotten to the point that I stood in church yesterday and before service really started, I prayed that God would show me something pretty. I prayed for God to show me those things I don't even know to ask for: love I can't understand, a faith that breaks my rational barriers, timely reading of Scripture that brings me to my knees in life-changing convictions. I begged to be something more than a "dumb punk kid." I want to be more than myself, because who I am is not a great place to settle. I don't want another year to go by and only wind up saying, "here I am, where I've been."
I think I've written a lot about clinging to who I am. At least, I've thought about it a lot. At freshman group, I got everyone to write down a long term goal they have for their lives. Mine was malleability to become who God has purposed me to be. I guess God will have his way with me no matter what, but I don't want to always have to look back over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of a passing blessed moment. I want to not only be conscious of the ways I'm changing but to also make great strides in changing myself in the ways I know I need to change. I'd like to stop complaining about the things that are wrong with me and actually open myself up to changing those things. This might require me to be who I'm not. This might test all the limits I've put on honesty and genuineness, my most prized possessions. But I'm pretty sure Jesus spit a big wad of "no" on my possessions long ago when he told me to throw all that away and follow Him. I guess I do know ugliness, but I'm begging God to show me something pretty, which is something He always promised He would do.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
A Feast of Fools
My mom thanked me yesterday for introducing her to Pandora this summer. It has apparently revolutionized her work hours, so I told her I'll hook her up with some AOL Radio if she wants. She promptly declined, stating that she doesn't intend to overstimulate herself.
Keep it simple, stupid. Or is it just simple stupid? Could be either one here.
I do understand her aversion to the idea. I just picked up my laptop with the intention of writing this blog post and, as usual, got lost in the forest of facebook, twitter, and random searches and blogs along the way before my little puppy ears perked up at the high pitch of the "To the Life!" whistle. It's not that I am required to write this post, but I've been inspired, which hasn't been a common occurrence in my world this semester. Inspiration. Pah.
The inspiration here comes from reading a book that finally articulates these thoughts that have been slowly forming in my mind over the course of this semester, especially over the course of this past month as I've even been struggling to drag myself to church every Sunday. Sounds terrible, don't it? The truth is dirty sometimes, but fortunately that grime only stains the crevices of this earth.
Anyway, it all started when Sadie brought home one of those "Read with Discernment" warnings from Lifeway that she was handed upon her purchase of Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz. I didn't know about these things, but they've apparently been warning readers against reading Don Miller's book as though it is the very Word of God. Good call, Lifeway. I got pretty annoyed that they decided to single out Don Miller when we Christians should probably be discerning everything we read, including such greats as John Piper and RC Sproul. Don Miller never claimed to be a theologian as far as I know. The dude's just got a story to tell, but I don't think he's under any sort of illusion that he is bringing The Message to the world by essentially writing his own biography and testimony to what God has done in his life.
So I made it my mission to head over to Lifeway, purchase a book by Don Miller, and refuse a copy of the discernment guide, which would afford me the opportunity to suggest maybe not singling out one non-canonical author but perhaps throwing a blanket over all of them (given all of this warning business is really that necessary).
But since I already own a copy of Blue Like Jazz, I grabbed A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. However, I had already decided at this point that I wouldn't take up the issue with these nice-looking folks since it really is a corporate matter, and for all I know the manager of this particular Lifeway may feel the same way I do about the policy. I've convinced myself at this point that he/she does--just a small comfort to appease myself.
The sweet old lady at the register didn't even hand me one of the discernment guides anyway, but she did look at me a bit disparagingly when I didn't want to purchase a Jesus bag for $1. "Sorry, I don't really do bags," doesn't seem to be a good enough reason to withhold an extra dollar. Good thing that store smells like [Son]shine and Christmas. Redemption.
Redemption continued when I reached the end of chapter twenty-nine of this book not too long ago and decided I found *it*. Special asterisks for a special it, yes. I guess I'll start explaining *it* by throwing down some of the words that struck me:
"We all get worked into a frenzy over things that will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy."
"But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax... When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God."
I like that there are several Christian authors these days lamenting how cheap we've made God. If I am honest with myself, my primary frustration is most likely rooted in how cheap I've made God for myself. How easily I get trapped in this idea that God needs to fix things now, but he's not allowed to mess with this or that in the process. I cling to this idea that my personality is extremely important because without it, I have no identity. Please God, don't take away my sarcasm. That's my staple! That's my charm! It's kind of like I'm a pocketknife that won't let you use any of my features except for the knife because that's my best feature.
And so I noted that Don Miller is basically relaying the deeper message of Ecclesiastes. Everything will suck now if we actually do put all our expectations and desires in what we've got going on here. Miller furthered his point by saying Paul and the disciples would have been hard-pressed to promise a blissful life on earth with the amount of turmoil they went through. There was never any promise that everything will work out for our good here, but we do have that promise for when we get there. Jesus said, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jesus always had his focus on the kingdom of heaven, and that is pretty significant. Why do we want to cheapen Him and distort His love with our own self-righteous political agenda or put a Jesus band-aid over every flesh wound that we eventually wind up ripping off once it becomes unnecessary?
It's not that Jesus isn't relevant to the here and now. That's clear by the fact that he became a man. But Jesus was resurrected from the dead and God put eternity on man's heart because that's where our treasure lies.
Don Miller concludes chapter twenty-nine: "Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast."
Keep it simple, stupid. Or is it just simple stupid? Could be either one here.
I do understand her aversion to the idea. I just picked up my laptop with the intention of writing this blog post and, as usual, got lost in the forest of facebook, twitter, and random searches and blogs along the way before my little puppy ears perked up at the high pitch of the "To the Life!" whistle. It's not that I am required to write this post, but I've been inspired, which hasn't been a common occurrence in my world this semester. Inspiration. Pah.
The inspiration here comes from reading a book that finally articulates these thoughts that have been slowly forming in my mind over the course of this semester, especially over the course of this past month as I've even been struggling to drag myself to church every Sunday. Sounds terrible, don't it? The truth is dirty sometimes, but fortunately that grime only stains the crevices of this earth.
Anyway, it all started when Sadie brought home one of those "Read with Discernment" warnings from Lifeway that she was handed upon her purchase of Don Miller's Blue Like Jazz. I didn't know about these things, but they've apparently been warning readers against reading Don Miller's book as though it is the very Word of God. Good call, Lifeway. I got pretty annoyed that they decided to single out Don Miller when we Christians should probably be discerning everything we read, including such greats as John Piper and RC Sproul. Don Miller never claimed to be a theologian as far as I know. The dude's just got a story to tell, but I don't think he's under any sort of illusion that he is bringing The Message to the world by essentially writing his own biography and testimony to what God has done in his life.
So I made it my mission to head over to Lifeway, purchase a book by Don Miller, and refuse a copy of the discernment guide, which would afford me the opportunity to suggest maybe not singling out one non-canonical author but perhaps throwing a blanket over all of them (given all of this warning business is really that necessary).
But since I already own a copy of Blue Like Jazz, I grabbed A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. However, I had already decided at this point that I wouldn't take up the issue with these nice-looking folks since it really is a corporate matter, and for all I know the manager of this particular Lifeway may feel the same way I do about the policy. I've convinced myself at this point that he/she does--just a small comfort to appease myself.
The sweet old lady at the register didn't even hand me one of the discernment guides anyway, but she did look at me a bit disparagingly when I didn't want to purchase a Jesus bag for $1. "Sorry, I don't really do bags," doesn't seem to be a good enough reason to withhold an extra dollar. Good thing that store smells like [Son]shine and Christmas. Redemption.
Redemption continued when I reached the end of chapter twenty-nine of this book not too long ago and decided I found *it*. Special asterisks for a special it, yes. I guess I'll start explaining *it* by throwing down some of the words that struck me:
"We all get worked into a frenzy over things that will not happen until Jesus returns. The truth is, we can make things a little better or a little worse, but utopia doesn't hang in the balance of our vote or of what products we buy."
"But I've also let go of the idea things will ever be made perfect, at least while I am walking around on this planet. I've let go of the idea that this life has a climax... When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God."
I like that there are several Christian authors these days lamenting how cheap we've made God. If I am honest with myself, my primary frustration is most likely rooted in how cheap I've made God for myself. How easily I get trapped in this idea that God needs to fix things now, but he's not allowed to mess with this or that in the process. I cling to this idea that my personality is extremely important because without it, I have no identity. Please God, don't take away my sarcasm. That's my staple! That's my charm! It's kind of like I'm a pocketknife that won't let you use any of my features except for the knife because that's my best feature.
And so I noted that Don Miller is basically relaying the deeper message of Ecclesiastes. Everything will suck now if we actually do put all our expectations and desires in what we've got going on here. Miller furthered his point by saying Paul and the disciples would have been hard-pressed to promise a blissful life on earth with the amount of turmoil they went through. There was never any promise that everything will work out for our good here, but we do have that promise for when we get there. Jesus said, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Jesus always had his focus on the kingdom of heaven, and that is pretty significant. Why do we want to cheapen Him and distort His love with our own self-righteous political agenda or put a Jesus band-aid over every flesh wound that we eventually wind up ripping off once it becomes unnecessary?
It's not that Jesus isn't relevant to the here and now. That's clear by the fact that he became a man. But Jesus was resurrected from the dead and God put eternity on man's heart because that's where our treasure lies.
Don Miller concludes chapter twenty-nine: "Do I still think there will be a day when all wrongs are made right, when our souls find the completion they are looking for? I do. But when all things are made right, it won't be because of some preacher or snake-oil salesman or politician or writer making promises in his book. I think, instead, this will be done by Jesus. And it will be at a wedding. And there will be a feast."
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A Time To
Going to a coffee shop to get things done may be a dangerous choice for one who is already jacked up on approximately four cups of coffee from this morning, and I can't say this medium hot chocolate is doing much to settle my nerves.
Now I'm hunkered down in a worn-out Caribou cushion, trying to read Ecclesiastes 3 through a physical and mental haze. The BCM freshmen and I are planning on delving into this bit of Scripture tomorrow evening, and I do believe this "lesson" is rather timely--at least for me.
This is the part where I address that I've been "leading" a freshman Bible study all semester with no real goal or agenda. This too may be a dangerous move, but with such a diverse group it is difficult to distinguish one specific need to which I should cater. All I know is that these freshmen should be figuring out all of those cryptic things like who they are in Christ and how to love God and others and themselves. There doesn't seem to be a formula for doing these things, and I especially can't assume that any of them even have these goals set for themselves.
That means we read the Bible, and I can only pray that God is speaking to them in ways that I don't know how to do. I can also hope that I don't misrepresent Ecclesiastes as the truly uplifting book it is and instead close out the school year with a room full of Debbie Downers.
And I tell them what I know. And I tell them that which I don't know. And I strive for honesty about myself and about how I see myself as a Christian. It's not that I think I'm so important to any of these people, but since I am a senior and I am their Bible study leader, I do know I have some influence here.
If I leave them wanting to adopt any quality I've displayed, I want that to be my genuineness. I want them to know that I was real, and that I was really real when I told them that I love them and that I want them to love God and to want to understand God. I want them to figure out how that works for them individually, and I want them to know that the world shouldn't shape their faith. I want them to be learning and discerning and caring and loving and trying and praying. I want to see the good and the potential in all of them, and I want them to see that in themselves and in each other.
There is a time to keep, and a time to cast away. This is my time to keep them in my care in a very direct way. This is when I fumble around trying to do the right thing while God really is doing the right thing for all of us. Soon enough it'll be time for me to cast myself away, and that's when I get to still rest assured that God is still doing the keeping business. For God, it's always a time to.
Now I'm hunkered down in a worn-out Caribou cushion, trying to read Ecclesiastes 3 through a physical and mental haze. The BCM freshmen and I are planning on delving into this bit of Scripture tomorrow evening, and I do believe this "lesson" is rather timely--at least for me.
This is the part where I address that I've been "leading" a freshman Bible study all semester with no real goal or agenda. This too may be a dangerous move, but with such a diverse group it is difficult to distinguish one specific need to which I should cater. All I know is that these freshmen should be figuring out all of those cryptic things like who they are in Christ and how to love God and others and themselves. There doesn't seem to be a formula for doing these things, and I especially can't assume that any of them even have these goals set for themselves.
That means we read the Bible, and I can only pray that God is speaking to them in ways that I don't know how to do. I can also hope that I don't misrepresent Ecclesiastes as the truly uplifting book it is and instead close out the school year with a room full of Debbie Downers.
And I tell them what I know. And I tell them that which I don't know. And I strive for honesty about myself and about how I see myself as a Christian. It's not that I think I'm so important to any of these people, but since I am a senior and I am their Bible study leader, I do know I have some influence here.
If I leave them wanting to adopt any quality I've displayed, I want that to be my genuineness. I want them to know that I was real, and that I was really real when I told them that I love them and that I want them to love God and to want to understand God. I want them to figure out how that works for them individually, and I want them to know that the world shouldn't shape their faith. I want them to be learning and discerning and caring and loving and trying and praying. I want to see the good and the potential in all of them, and I want them to see that in themselves and in each other.
There is a time to keep, and a time to cast away. This is my time to keep them in my care in a very direct way. This is when I fumble around trying to do the right thing while God really is doing the right thing for all of us. Soon enough it'll be time for me to cast myself away, and that's when I get to still rest assured that God is still doing the keeping business. For God, it's always a time to.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Church
Last night and this morning, Deb said she was not at all looking forward to going to church.
"But you're singing, right? You enjoy that."
"Yeah, I do like singing and I like the people, but I hate going to church."
I guess these words are pretty provocative. I remember often dreading going to church growing up--at least as far as having to sit through my dad's long, boring sermons. But I always assumed it would get better. I thought that when I became an adult like my parents, I would long for Sunday mornings the way they do, and I would hang on every word being sung in every hymn and every word being read from every passage of Scripture. I would feel the effect of those impassioned words getting caught in my father's throat, and I would empathize with those tears that stream from my mother's eyes when she sings a song to Jesus.
Ever since I stepped into "adulthood" my freshman year, I've had no yearning for any church I've attended. However, I do have a yearning for the church that will make it their intention to present the Gospel in such a way that I do hunger after it. After three years of church hopping in Fredericksburg, I started wondering whether I'm being too picky. I know that I won't find a perfect church, so I shouldn't expect that. But can't I at least expect that the chief aim of the church I attend will be to present the Gospel as it is without an over-arching emphasis on "becoming all things to all men?"
"19Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. 20To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. 21To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. 22To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. 23I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings." -1 Corinthians 9: 19-23
Paul does make it very clear that who we are is only important by measures of our malleability in being who God wants us to be. I may not be the best at speaking encouraging words to people, but God demands that I encourage my fellow believers; that's when I have to say "get over yourself" to my natural inhibitions and work toward doing and saying those things that God wants done and said. I expect the Gospel to be penetrating the weakness of my sinful heart.
So I expect it to do the same at church. I don't want my church to become all things to all men and lose sight of the Gospel in the process. We are to enslave ourselves to others for the purposes of God. We are not to enslave God to others for the purposes of our own.
I could be exaggerating a bit. I may be making a bigger deal out of things than I should. Wherever my thoughts on this are wrong or twisted are where I am finding it impossible to feel like I can be much part of any church congregation in Fredericksburg, and I am well convinced that this is not okay. So I am open to reproof. I need correction.
"But you're singing, right? You enjoy that."
"Yeah, I do like singing and I like the people, but I hate going to church."
I guess these words are pretty provocative. I remember often dreading going to church growing up--at least as far as having to sit through my dad's long, boring sermons. But I always assumed it would get better. I thought that when I became an adult like my parents, I would long for Sunday mornings the way they do, and I would hang on every word being sung in every hymn and every word being read from every passage of Scripture. I would feel the effect of those impassioned words getting caught in my father's throat, and I would empathize with those tears that stream from my mother's eyes when she sings a song to Jesus.
Ever since I stepped into "adulthood" my freshman year, I've had no yearning for any church I've attended. However, I do have a yearning for the church that will make it their intention to present the Gospel in such a way that I do hunger after it. After three years of church hopping in Fredericksburg, I started wondering whether I'm being too picky. I know that I won't find a perfect church, so I shouldn't expect that. But can't I at least expect that the chief aim of the church I attend will be to present the Gospel as it is without an over-arching emphasis on "becoming all things to all men?"
"19Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. 20To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. 21To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. 22To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some. 23I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings." -1 Corinthians 9: 19-23
Paul does make it very clear that who we are is only important by measures of our malleability in being who God wants us to be. I may not be the best at speaking encouraging words to people, but God demands that I encourage my fellow believers; that's when I have to say "get over yourself" to my natural inhibitions and work toward doing and saying those things that God wants done and said. I expect the Gospel to be penetrating the weakness of my sinful heart.
So I expect it to do the same at church. I don't want my church to become all things to all men and lose sight of the Gospel in the process. We are to enslave ourselves to others for the purposes of God. We are not to enslave God to others for the purposes of our own.
I could be exaggerating a bit. I may be making a bigger deal out of things than I should. Wherever my thoughts on this are wrong or twisted are where I am finding it impossible to feel like I can be much part of any church congregation in Fredericksburg, and I am well convinced that this is not okay. So I am open to reproof. I need correction.
Friday, October 8, 2010
When Then is Now
"We've come full circle, Katie Jones." Meredith was joking with me in the car as I drove her to Rose Auto Shop on route 1 to get her dear Ishmael after yet another auto repair. I met Meredith for the first time last year when our mutual friend Molly asked me if I could give Meredith a ride to pick up her car from this same auto shop. A friendship was born through happenstance, and this recent consequence of our friendship brought us to a reminder of beginnings and endings. "We've come full circle, but this isn't the end of our friendship. Don't worry about that."
The looming end of college isn't something I've been dwelling on or worrying about. When the truth of the matter does pass through my mind, I still think in terms of possibilities. Places I could move. Jobs I could apply for. Education programs I could apply for. While the scope of my future seems much more limited than before, especially since I've hit my mathematical ceiling and discovered how absolutely terrible a student I am, there still seem to be so many options. There are different things I could be and different cultures of people I could meet. The ideas excite me in ways they did when I was seven-years-old, dead set on one day becoming an amazing dentist or doctor. As fun and educational this college experience has been, I don't for a second think this is it. By no means have I reached my ceiling in terms of purpose. One very thrilling feature of being a Christian is living by the biblical mantra: "God has a plan for me." If nothing else, we've got that.
Earlier today, I ran into Gemma as I was leaving the Nest after having eaten my lunch. She was about to grab some food and then head over to a nice grassy area on the side of Virginia hall under the shade of a tree for a picnic with her fellow freshmen. She invited me to come along, so I did. I sat there almost directly below the window of my very first dorm room at Mary Washington, and I sat amongst a group that so much reminded me of the group of girls I'd hang out with in the Virginia parlor almost every weekday at this same time of day my freshman year. I'd come full circle yet again, but I was experiencing it alone this time. These fresh and expectant young girls are only beginning their circle. They have all the possibilities of classes and majors and friends and growing independence. In a few years, they will be where I am right now, and I will be in the midst of some other season myself.
I'm not trying to head into a there's-nothing-new-under-the-sun track. On the contrary, all this nostalgia has put me in an abnormally optimistic mood. I've got a not-Obama-but-Jesus-infused hope in it all. Today, tomorrow, and all lengths of time God has promised for each of our respective futures. There is a time to dance, and that time is now.
The looming end of college isn't something I've been dwelling on or worrying about. When the truth of the matter does pass through my mind, I still think in terms of possibilities. Places I could move. Jobs I could apply for. Education programs I could apply for. While the scope of my future seems much more limited than before, especially since I've hit my mathematical ceiling and discovered how absolutely terrible a student I am, there still seem to be so many options. There are different things I could be and different cultures of people I could meet. The ideas excite me in ways they did when I was seven-years-old, dead set on one day becoming an amazing dentist or doctor. As fun and educational this college experience has been, I don't for a second think this is it. By no means have I reached my ceiling in terms of purpose. One very thrilling feature of being a Christian is living by the biblical mantra: "God has a plan for me." If nothing else, we've got that.
Earlier today, I ran into Gemma as I was leaving the Nest after having eaten my lunch. She was about to grab some food and then head over to a nice grassy area on the side of Virginia hall under the shade of a tree for a picnic with her fellow freshmen. She invited me to come along, so I did. I sat there almost directly below the window of my very first dorm room at Mary Washington, and I sat amongst a group that so much reminded me of the group of girls I'd hang out with in the Virginia parlor almost every weekday at this same time of day my freshman year. I'd come full circle yet again, but I was experiencing it alone this time. These fresh and expectant young girls are only beginning their circle. They have all the possibilities of classes and majors and friends and growing independence. In a few years, they will be where I am right now, and I will be in the midst of some other season myself.
I'm not trying to head into a there's-nothing-new-under-the-sun track. On the contrary, all this nostalgia has put me in an abnormally optimistic mood. I've got a not-Obama-but-Jesus-infused hope in it all. Today, tomorrow, and all lengths of time God has promised for each of our respective futures. There is a time to dance, and that time is now.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Scattered
I've found myself yearning for honesty. Usually that always means I'm yearning for the God whose presence has become lost amongst math problems, mailboxes, friends, sleep, etc. It seems I have a problem? I guess it's kind of a big one? And maybe it's not actually a problem. But anyway, with such an innate need for purpose in my life all the time, I find myself having to refocus. A lot. A good Christian reads her Bible everyday. She also prays everyday. Even though those rules aren't explicitly written in the Bible as law, they are pretty well supported throughout Scripture. Would I be more focused if I read the Bible every single day for the rest of my life and spent more time focusing my thoughts on prayer with God? Would I feel more purposeful then? What does God think of those days when I don't even give Him a passing glance? I don't know if a day will ever come when I will honestly yearn for God's word every single moment of every single day. More often than not, I feel more inclined to pick it up and read it like I would a novel, allowing myself the opportunity to simply put it down when a chapter ends or when my attention is diverted. No real need to reflect, but hey, I've given God the opportunity to smack me in the face with Truth if He so needs. I suppose that would be called a ball-is-in-your-court mentality, which definitely isn't biblical.
Why do I have to work so hard at something that should always satiate my need for purpose?
Why am I so terrible at doing that?
Mmmyup.
In other news, today is Noelle's wedding. The ceremony starts six minutes from when I'm typing this actually. I'm supposed to be there, but I've had what I suppose is the stomach flu since Tuesday. Does that not seem like a long time to have the stomach flu to you? I think I'm getting better, but as of about half an hour ago, it's evident I'm not in the clear just yet. So I figured I probably shouldn't drive up to a wedding and start infecting other people. Noelle will be married regardless. I will be extremely happy for her regardless. Pictures will suffice, and life will go on.
And in other news, I've been listening to the bands Tilly and the Wall and Noah and the Whale a lot lately. Funny how their names parallel. One awesome thing about Tilly and the Wall is that their beats are laid down with tap-dancing. Sweet! And one awesome thing about Noah and the Whale is this song.
The end.
Why do I have to work so hard at something that should always satiate my need for purpose?
Why am I so terrible at doing that?
Mmmyup.
In other news, today is Noelle's wedding. The ceremony starts six minutes from when I'm typing this actually. I'm supposed to be there, but I've had what I suppose is the stomach flu since Tuesday. Does that not seem like a long time to have the stomach flu to you? I think I'm getting better, but as of about half an hour ago, it's evident I'm not in the clear just yet. So I figured I probably shouldn't drive up to a wedding and start infecting other people. Noelle will be married regardless. I will be extremely happy for her regardless. Pictures will suffice, and life will go on.
And in other news, I've been listening to the bands Tilly and the Wall and Noah and the Whale a lot lately. Funny how their names parallel. One awesome thing about Tilly and the Wall is that their beats are laid down with tap-dancing. Sweet! And one awesome thing about Noah and the Whale is this song.
The end.
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