Seaweed and Seashore - Musings

Moving On

2010-06-04T13:18:00.002-04:00

This was my college blog site. But I've moved on from college.

I'm not done blogging though. As absurd as it sometimes feels, I enjoy writing to no one and everyone at the same time. So please move to WordPress with me: elenaforsythe.wordpress.com.

A Letter to One Who Doesn't Read This Blog

2010-05-31T21:56:00.008-04:00

Dear Izaak Walton,

You are the best part of being home. Besides my family, you make this little dinky suburban town my own place. I can come home to you. You are a part of so much of my life history. You’ve been there for the childhood memories of bike rides through the rain and painful scrapes and attempts to catch frogs and crossing iced-over lakes. In every season of life and growth, you’ve been so present. Always available, always receiving me as I am, always offering yourself.

I’ve retreated to you in my weakest moments and you’ve shown me God’s grace and beauty. Somehow, even though I’ve known you for a decade or more, you still surprise me in the ways you pour into my life. With you, I can be alone. I can just be, in the miracle of shared solitude. No need to talk. No expectations, no requirements. Just you and me.

You glorify the Creator of the universe every single day just by letting others behold His handiwork. And in everything, in every moment, you turn my thoughts to God.

And if I wasn't just ascribing anthropomorphic qualities to a forest preserve, I would probably send this to you in real life. :)

Blessing

2010-05-29T23:34:00.003-04:00

Someone bought me coffee today. She was a beautiful black woman with long braids and a bright smile on her face. I don’t know where she came from or where she was headed. The only words she spoke to me were, “I think I’m supposed to buy your drink today,” and “God bless you.” I was struck by her kindness and generosity, to the point of wanting to be like her myself.

I don’t know why she felt compelled to buy my drink. I was counting up the handful of change I had in my pocket, so maybe I looked a little desperate standing there in front of the cashier. But whatever her reasoning, she did something astounding for me.

She said, “I think I’m supposed to.” That means she was responding to something bigger than herself. I suppose that something bigger than herself knew my heart as I walked into Starbucks. Lately I have been thinking about the person I want to be. I sometimes fear that I’m obsessed with self-improvement and for all the wrong reasons. And I walked into that coffee shop with two books and a piece of paper in hand, pen in my mouth, planning to write down the character and qualities that I want to be focusing on in my life.

But she turned my thinking around. Just after she left and I sat down with my iced chai latte, I wrote down a list of ten things I want to do in the next week. Included on it were, “do something random and spontaneous to bless each of my sisters,” “buy someone else’s drink at Starbucks,” etc.

And as I was making this list, I realized that the woman who came in and bought my drink was probably not trying to check something off a list. I remembered that the person I want to be is the person who imitates Christ, not in actions but in essence. We have not been given a list of dos and don’ts. Our God-man Savior obliterated the legalism that gave rise to hypocrisy. He wants my heart, not just my deeds.

So number ten on my list became numbers one through ten. It takes care of the others. It is this: Decide who you want to be. Every single day. And who I want to be is a manalive, a woman who commits herself every single day to her Savior, a person who allows Christ to cultivate within her a nature that needs no reminder to be a blessing, that needs no lists, no to-dos.

This is who I am: I’ve been born again. The Cross is my defense and my hope, and I'm finding who I am in all that my Savior is.

Dandelion Wishes

2010-05-27T00:27:00.009-04:00

My life has been full of dandelion puff-balls lately. I've always been particularly fond of these, though they mean rather unkempt-looking lawns and more trouble than most gardeners desire. And yet, I can't help but love them, trouble though they are. For all their weediness, I've always found them beautiful and inviting.

For one thing, there's something about how tangible and physical they are. They beg to be picked and no one will object because, of course, they're weeds. And so, I pick them. All the time. For the last two weeks I was at school, there were hundreds of dandelion puff balls absolutely everywhere, and especially near the prayer chapel (which is incidentally, one of my favorite place on campus). So every time I walked past that part of campus, I picked myself a puff ball. I felt it in my hands, cupping my fingers around the delicate seeds that sometimes look like sunbursts. I kept it intact as long as possible, protecting it from the wind lest it disappear even as I carried it. I touched my face with it, feeling its softness and itchiness at the same time.

I used to be very silly about dandelion puff-balls. I used to look for only the biggest, roundest, most perfect ones with the long, thick stems that were durable and sturdy. I think I used to like those because their delicate perfection appealed to me. When you wish on the perfect ones, it feels more likely that your wish will come true. But lately, I've liked the small ones, the imperfect ones with a few seeds already missing. And for the same reasons--it seems like they're saying, "I can't promise much. Your wish may not come true. But you can try and wish on me anyway." (My friend Libby says that for all my rationality, I'm utterly romantic. I guess I'm okay with that.)

So my life has been full of imperfect, "no promises, but you can wish on me anyway" dandelions. I've had a lot of wishes that just don't come true like I hope...

BUT--I think the thing I like most about dandelion puff-balls is that they were created. designed. by the same God who created and designed me. He knows the wishes that I blow to disperse the dandelion seeds. He knows that my heart can sometimes be as delicate as the round white balls of dandelion beauty. And when I remember all of this, I am put at peace to see the dandelion seeds fly every which way by the wind. Whether wishes or prayers, my God knows them all.

Notes to Self

2010-05-13T16:12:00.002-04:00

1. You get better service at Payne's when you wear a dress.

2. Professors aren't half as much fun as their kids.

3. Be concise.

Rules

2010-05-03T19:28:00.004-04:00

Someday, if I ever have a house of my own, I will have a porch. And on that porch will hang a swing. And from that porch swing, I will watch rainstorms.

Rule #1 in Elena's household: rainstorms must be watched from porch swings.

Direction

2010-04-25T18:12:00.001-04:00

When God does this, it's astounding.

Just Be

2010-04-23T23:02:00.005-04:00

Hold your breath.

Wait for a single moment…that’s life flowing along, brushing against your cheek like a breeze. Don’t rush. You don’t have to catch up with it. Sweet mercy, it’s certainly not something to be contained and held back. The more you chase it, the faster it will flee from you.

No. Rather, stop. Close your eyes. Walk a tiny bit slower and look around you. Crane your neck to look at the clouds so far above your head. Bend down and touch the dandelion before the wind breaks it apart. They say the lake water is dirty, but I’ve seen it sparkle in the sunrise. Put it all together and savor this.

Have you ever left the party early so you could walk the long route home? All alone, by yourself, letting the silence speak to you. Maybe you won’t see anything new, but maybe you’ll see it in a new way. Better yet, maybe its familiarity will be like a still, small voice whispering words of peace to your heart.

Elijah expected God’s voice to come from thunderstorms or hurricanes. But when I read of how the Creator of raging winds and lightning bolts actually spoke to the prophet in exile, I am almost certain that Elijah had to stop breathing for a moment in order to hear what the Lord God Almighty had to say.

I love that our Savior was a man who sought solitude. And I feel closer to Him when I’m sitting alone on a porch swing in the dark and the silence and the solitude. Or when I lie down on the dock and look up at the stars. Sometimes I can’t help but break the silence just to say to the rest of creation, “my God…my God created this.”

Life is not “what you make of it.” The best things in life won’t come from chasing, chasing, chasing. Rather, they are the things that you stumble upon, the things that come so unexpectedly. The things that are given, not won, are the things that you will most love when you look back on your years.

Chaos, rushing, pursuing…these culminate in some concept of achievement that rarely satisfies because, when we were clamoring after whatever it was, we hardly had perspective of what life should really be like. No, it’s when we mosey along, walking slowly and taking everything in that we see the world as a whole, as God made it and as He has given it to us. But you must take a moment to put everything else aside and absorb it as it is.

Don’t talk. Don’t say anything at all. The Creator of Life is trying to speak to you. Don’t interrupt.

Say Something

2010-04-23T18:24:00.004-04:00

In my own journals and other writings, I've said a lot about wasting words. We are superfluous in our praise to the point that it is almost meaningless. We talk to fill space rather than being purposeful to convey truth. "Be worth the words you use to say what's on your mind."

And yet, I am so guilty of this in my life. I am hasty in my criticism and shallow in my praise. I talk for the sake of talking.

In the past few weeks, I've become very aware of what I say because I've actually not said very much lately. I've been bogged down with work and when I'm bogged down, I become very quiet. I don't like to talk much. Even this neglected blog and my abandonded journals demonstrate how I've given up on words lately. Oh, words, words, words. Try just being. When I'm as exhausted as I've been these past couple weeks, silence is more significant than sound. Solitude is more intentional than the "community" I sometimes find myself in.

Maybe that's the way it should be sometimes. Seek silence, enjoy solitude, meet your Father in the still moments of life. Peace, be still. Love the people around you, but sometimes, take a moment to put everything away for a little while.

There is an ethical aspect to our communication. Speak truth. With your mouth, with your actions, with your very life. Be succinct and clear. Tell people you love them and say it with meaning. Enjoy the moments of silence and solitude, and when you do say something, let your life speak it in truth.

A Poor Man's Suit

2010-04-17T11:48:00.006-04:00

I'm not afraid, just dress me up in a poor man's suit.

I won't be late but I'll come out singing,

I'll come out singing.

Every word that I sing I'll sing it for you.

Yes, there are times

when I could not recognize your voice

And times

when I could barely sing or say anything at all

Every word that I sing, I'll sing it for you.

Oh, every word that I sing, I'll sing it for you.

Humbled

2010-03-23T21:21:00.004-04:00

I constantly need people to tell me when I'm wrong. I think my favorite people in the world are the ones who are bold enough to challenge me in my stubbornness. If I think I've figured something out, that's usually a pretty good indication that I'm not letting God speak to me and that your human voice is more vitally necessary than ever.

One of my favorite stanzas of poetry that I've ever written was:

Know me for my sins,
Weaken and break me.
Call me out for my faults,
Remind me that I'm so small.

I love admitting that I'm wrong. Of course, I don't love the process of it--being called out, apologizing, having your deepest inner decay exposed. Oh, does that hurt. But when I hurt, when my pride stings and my intellect aches, may I ever and always praise God that I'm not numb, that there is enough of the God-intended Elena left for Him to put me back in order.

I discovered a new favorite verse in Psalm 138 the other day. I like the ESV translation and The Message paraphrase of it a lot, so here's both:

"The Lord will fulfill His purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands."

"Finish what you started in me, oh, God. Your love is eternal--don't quit on me now."

I recently defined hope as: "remembering that He will continue His work of redemption in my life even though I fail so often." Acknowledging my failure is a sharp and biting pain. There's no spiritual anesthesia for us in these moments. But if this didn't hurt, it wouldn't be so beneficial. So I welcome the hurt. I love apologies and confessions to true friends who show love and grace and rebuke in return. What powerful, potent medicine and what healing and growth it brings.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad...

2010-03-22T15:05:00.004-04:00

At 9:30am as I parked my car in the chapel parking lot and resisted the inevitable of having to run through the rain to the Union, I was very tempted to already dub this an Alexander sort of day. Instead, I shouted (literally) at God, "DO SOMETHING WITH THIS," and I'm calling this a day with a lot of potential for grace.

The "T, H, NG, VB" title was tempting because I had insomnia last night after a rather frustratingly distracted evening of homework. And because I've been utterly drenched at least twice today due to rain. And my shoes are sopping all the way through. And I was late to a class because I had to print off a paper for which the due date was fortunately set back, though I unfortunately didn't get the e-mail. And I'll be up until 1am.

But don't feel bad for me, because God fills up potentialities when we commit them to Him. First, I told Dr. Spiegel that I had insomnia last night and he recommended standing on my head for a minute or so before going to bed. The very thought of Spiegel on his head (in all reality, not hard to imagine) got me laughing. Then I had class with Seeman. ALWAYS a delight. And he gave a devotional on Psalm 19 that struck home (they always do). And he and I talked for a solid half hour after class was over about Foucault and Hegel and Derrida and post-modernism and our thick Christian metaphysic that says that we are relational beings created in the image of God and how that informs our approach to all of these philosophers.

Now the day is about half-way over. Still a lot of potential left. But as long as I can manage to stay awake for it, bring it on.

**And someone just offered to help me out with something, so I can go to bed at 12am rather than 1am. YES.

Over-commitment is like the Shadowbrute.

2010-03-22T07:19:00.005-04:00

He has brought me back here again, this place of smallness.

I'm self-aware...aware of my incapacity, aware of my insufficency, aware of my impotence.

I've been clutching, clinging, clasping these things that escape my grip.

My hands are too small. I can't manage this.

Distended, distracted, distorted.

And then, my balancing act started to tip...

I was playing with blocks, my construction towering so high...

He came in and said, "Is this what you think?" and kicked it down

Not in anger, not in frustration, but as the Great Teacher.

Yes, these things fall down easily. Don't forget that next time.

But He knows I'll forget. Yes, He knows I will.

And He'll remind me then, too.

Delete

2010-03-18T18:48:00.001-04:00

I just found out that I'll probably have to delete this entire blog because of what I'm planning to do next fall.

Wow.

Let the countdown to anonymity begin...

My New Home?

2010-03-18T11:26:00.001-04:00

Faisalabad, Punjab, Pakistan

What is your only comfort in life and in death?

2010-03-15T23:09:00.004-04:00

"That I am not my own but belong body and soul, in life and death, to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood and has set me free from the tyrrany of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven.

In fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to Him, Christ, by His Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for Him."

- Heidelberg Catechism

It has been a rough thing, to realize that I've been wholeheartedly distracted recently, that my pursuit of Christ has been a weak effort as my own feelings have held my thoughts instead. I never blatantly rejected His will or His voice, but I wasn't exactly listening for it, either. I was caught up in my own efforts and in that, I was confronted with my weakness, my failures.

My only comfort in life and in death is the assurance that He will make me wholeheartedly His own. Even if it takes a certain amount of heartbreak, He will call me back to Himself and persist in that great work He is doing in me.

Retreat!

2010-03-14T20:22:00.004-04:00

It is a rare event when any Taylor event with the word "retreat" in it actually includes anything related to rest or recouperation. Therefore it was stunningly unreal that every single girl on my wing got about ten hours of sleep at our massive sleepover party on Friday night.

Probably only my three dearest friends knew how much I needed that, actually. I slept hardly a wink on Thursday night even though I went to bed at 11:30pm. My mind and heart were racing and I could barely stay still for the five and a half hours that I laid in my bed. Friday wasn't exactly conducive to a lack of sleep like that either.

I arrived to the retreat late, as everyone was settling down. So I grabbed my blanket and pillow and collapsed on the floor next to Kelsey. She's such a sweetheart--she rubbed my back and played with my hair for hours while I enjoyed the sounds of my Second South sisters laughing and chattering all around me.

I later apologized to a few of them for being so tired and incoherent during our short retreat, but they said so graciously, "No no! We were just so glad you were with us!!"

Oh, God blesses us with what we need, even when we don't know how to ask for it. I admit, I needed four things that night--physical affection, to not be by myself, to not have to talk, and sleep. I got all of them. In fact, our whole group of 20+ girls were able to relax, to be rejuvenated, and to enjoy each other's company. What a marvelous second family I have here. There's so much love, so much understanding, so much affection, and so much security and faithfulness. Goodness.

Thoughts from last weekend:

2010-03-13T22:54:00.003-05:00

I could live like this.

Caroline's hair is so big.

Shannon looks adorable sitting in that windowsill.

Everytime the sky is blue like that I just think of GOD. Godness. Goodness. Good.

Confidence is all about how you perceive yourself. Yes, even you must perceive yourself. And I love how you do.

Remember when we were going to buy ourselves a sailboat and name her the Grey Goose and sail all over the world together?

Chocolate brown hair. Creamy untanned skin. Dark eyes. Homemade sand dollar necklace. Ridiculous navy blue shirt. White second-hand Polo sweater. Rolled-cuff jeans with rips in awkward places. Moccasins.

I want to be near you. That's all. There's something about nearness. Proximity. Priceless.

I want to die for you. I'm sorry if my life doesn't always reflect that.

The only thing that scares me about leaving is being gone from you.

There are so many things that can't be spoken. They are so true in my head, but so awkward coming from my mouth.

I want to be here:

2010-03-10T17:14:00.004-05:00

"I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do." -Willa Cather

I'll be my brother's keeper.

2010-03-07T23:36:00.003-05:00

I’ve discovered that it’s always worth it, always enjoyable, always so much better to be involved in people at the expense of self. ALWAYS. Homework isn’t half as important as hearing about your day. Sleep isn’t necessary when your head is on my lap. It almost doesn't matter what you’re saying; how could I be bored when your smile is so wide? And my burdens seem so insignificant when I have the opportunity to share yours instead. Loving you is so much more wonderful than loving just me.

Irresponsible? Only regarding myself. But I’ll always be steadfast for you.

Romans 8:31

2010-03-06T03:21:00.006-05:00

What can we say in response to this?

This Is My Senioritis:

2010-03-05T22:00:00.009-05:00

Filling out applications for internships and full-time employment and discovering that this one is due tomorrow and that opportunity ended two days ago...confronting the possibility of living at home for a semester before Pakistan really kicks off...Friday (and Thursday and Wednesday and Tuesday and Monday) night homework until midnight deadlines...researching state representatives in my spare time for GO's next initiative...

Skipping class to comfort a friend...choosing between wing church and those two other meetings that I accidentally double-booked...more coffee dates than I have days in the week...pretending to have time for it all because in reality, people are more important to me than grades...

Going longboarding around the loop because I've already been inside for six hours and the sky is too blue to wait another five minutes...taking 35 minutes to relax as I go to my friends' senior art shows and reveling in their beautiful expression...

Thinking how over-commitment is so overrated and I don't know why people do it to themselves...wishing I could be home right now for Lara's 14th birthday...hour-long conversations with Mom as I sort through all this nonsense...wishing I wasn't already booked tomorrow morning so I could drive up to H-dale to visit...

Reading Psalm 62:5-7 and 73:26 over and over and over and over...

It's a good thing this only lasts for one year of my lifetime.

Recent phases I've been repeating to myself:

"Don't despair. (But it's okay to tremble.)"

"The devil's singing over me//that I'm cursed and gone astray//but he's forgotten the refrain//Jesus saves."

"How could I give you up?"

"For God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

Deeply Good News

2010-03-04T09:45:00.006-05:00

Dr. Seeman makes my Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. (Granted, he nearly kills me on Thursday nights, but somehow I always survive.)

My History of Philosophy II class is brutal. It requires so much reading and thought and time. (And all of this doubles for me, the easily-distracted-by-my-own-thoughts one.) In class, my brain is overwrought by everything we're talking about. Hume denies that cause-and-effect is rational. Leibniz thinks God is a monad. Kant's noumena and phenomena... Crazy. Thursday nights are the worst because I'm usually spending many exhausting hours writing up the reading outline for Friday afternoon.

It's exhausting, yes. Dr. Seeman doesn't make any of that easier or give us excuses. But every time I come out of his class, even if I'm thoroughly confused about the nature of the universe, I am so comforted and excited when he talks about the gospel. In his fatherly, thoughtful, and passionate voice, he says things like this: ..."But now" are such powerful words. "That's how it was, but now." Everything is different. He talks about the inbreaking of Christ. How he entered into our sinful world. And in the context of sinful humanity and confused philosophers, he reminds us that this story, this forgiveness, this reconciliation, this promise, this unbelievable love is Good News. It is Deeply Good News.

"Good things."

2010-02-28T09:22:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, a good friend and I were talking about how much God has taught us about joy through sorrow and loss. Neither of us has really suffered--not compared to so many others in the world. But some of the greatest lessons we've each learned about God's faithfulness has come in our emptiest times of life.

But she said something else to me. She said she felt like God wanted her to share with me that "He wants to give you good things."

God wants to give you good things. I've been thinking about that, letting the phrase run through my mind, wondering how it could possibly relate to my current concerns and struggles. It didn't even hit me when she first said it. I didn't think, "Wow, I needed to hear that." But here I am, still processing it three weeks later.

I often wonder if God leaves me empty so that I will know fully that true satisfaction only comes through Him. "Let me not be so satisfied that I seek not the Bread of Life." Oh, I know that so well. I don't have to deliberately sacrifice anything in order for Him to show me my how deficient I am and how much I need Him. I am so aware of it every single day.

But I also know that God loves me. I know it and I agree: He does want to give me good things. I walk the path He has laid out before me and I know I will encounter blessings that He has placed along the way.

The problem comes when I begin to seek after those good things. Nothing is good out of its proper, God-placed context. It seems like a paradox: I begin to look for the good things and they disappear; I keep my eyes on Him and the good things come in abundance.

And the funny thing is that those "good things" are probably not what I expected at all. Not at all. I discovered that last summer...and then so much in the past six months. But His goodness is so much better than what I think I could get for myself. He will strip me of all that I love and want and think I need and still, He will use me for His purposes. Oh, and in that I find the truest satisfaction.

Is everything a lesson in faith then? An exercise of trust and reliance upon Him to satisfy? NO. It's nothing like that. It's not about wanting Him to satisfy me, but learning that His purposes go beyond my wants and needs. He does not merely want to "give me good things." He wants me to walk according to the path that is His holy and perfect will and to discover His goodness, His beauty and mercy and constancy.

No expectations, but so much hope. I don't need to be reminded of the good things coming. I will keep my focus on letting Him use me for His glory and in that I find my true Great and Endless Need is satisfied.

Meta-Blogging

2010-02-27T22:53:00.003-05:00

I love blogs. SO much.

I love words, I love what Caroline and I call "word vomit" (usually the best way to describe the content of this blog), and I love reading other people's random thoughts. I read a lot of blogs: some by friends, some by friends of friends, some by family of friends, some by people I have absolutely no connection to whatsoever. (Yeah, that's actually kind of embarrassing. I'm definitely not going to reveal that I read my friend's dad's brother's blog, much as I may enjoy it.)

The whole idea of a blog as a "web log" is kind of inaccurate. I definitely don't log my life in this cyber non-journal notepad. There's nothing consistent here. (As I said, "word vomit".)

But when I read blogs and stumble across something marvelous and fantastic and unexpected that brings a bit of color into my day, I am thankful for blogs. B[urst of color]logs.

Dear Family, I miss you.

2010-02-25T17:36:00.004-05:00

I get to go home tomorrow. I get to go home tomorrow. I get to see two of my four favorite sisters. I get to hang out with my mom. The four of us plus my dad are going to go out for Thai food on Saturday night.

Favorite Caroline quote of the day: "I'm so glad we ended up related so I couldn't just drop you when you got annoying."

Thank God for blood relations and how they hold out through the dry spells.

A God Like This

2010-02-24T23:02:00.003-05:00

I have a God who calls people to live lives of purpose. He gives them great passions, talents, abilities, and asks that we give them to something much greater than ourselves. It's bigger than the world, bigger than my mind, bigger than philosophy and learning and study...

Glory. His glory. That His name would be known among all peoples and nations and cultures and families.

But sometimes, glory means that His name is glorified in the lives of individuals. One individual. One friend who has been so scared to commit herself to His love, afraid of abandonment, afraid of taking that risk on God. He has been chasing and running her down and I have watched it. Oh, how He has fought for her.

Oh, great Lord. What glory You claimed on Sunday night when she finally let You overcome her! My heart cried and laughed and sang in the overwhelming joy of it all as she told me her story.

I have a God who tells people that He loves them, even when they're so unbelieving and so fearful. He says, "I won't leave you. Do you know what I've done for you? What I will do for you forever? Oh, child, sweet child. Your love will be safe with me."

That's my great God. I'm reveling in it.

Hahaha!!! Oh, my God, my God. I'm SO reveling in it.

I Stand On Their Shoulders and the View is Astounding

2010-02-21T23:46:00.006-05:00

I've been short on profundity lately. That's okay. I like not being eloquent sometimes.

So here's something raw and unedited:

In the moments when I'm empty of emotion and feeling and I'm just simply numb to the worship songs and the public prayers...I sometimes wonder what it is that I'm holding on to in my faith. What is this religion that I let dictate my life? How do I know this is real?

But in this life of mine the answer comes so clearly and magnificently and I realize how our relational, three-in-one God has satisfied these questions and doubts: I see the answer to my questions when I think of how obviously my great God works in the lives of those around me. I think of Kari and I revel in the work that God is doing through her in India. I think of Albi and how she worships Him through her art and how He gives meaning to what would otherwise be nothing more than paint on a canvas. I think of Caroline and how He has transformed her from the fearful little girl into the warrior woman who will in turn transform her campus and the city and the world. I think of Caleb and Ryan and Philip and how those men inspire me and encourage me that God is still revealing Himself to those who seek Him wholeheartedly.

A cloud of witnesses. The greatest testimony to the truth of the Gospel.

Syllogistic Logic

2010-02-15T23:59:00.001-05:00

1. I hate days when I don't get work done.

2. Monday are days when I have an ocean of things to do and no time to do them.

3. (from 2) I get no work done on Mondays.

.: I hate Mondays.

Oh, Hillary

2010-02-15T07:40:00.003-05:00

BBC News Headline shows how out-of-touch Americans can be sometimes--even in the White House:

Clinton warns Iran 'becoming a military dictatorship'

Obviously not much of a story there. HELLO, UNITED STATES!! Iran has been a military dictatorship since Ayatolla Khomeini took power in 1979 and Ahmadinejad has not improved anything in the past five years.

PLEASE pray for Iran. There are people there who live in abject poverty yet their government does nothing to help. Instead, the regime there is in fact a threat to its own people.

"The Victory of God in man, not the man in himself..."

2010-02-13T00:57:00.008-05:00

In a couple of my philosophy classes lately, we've been talking about what is necessary for salvation. Through works? Through faith? Through works as the product of faith? Is there a creed that clarifies all the beliefs necessary to be deemed "saved" by God? Can people of non-Christian belief come to salvation without ever knowing Christ? Does God generally make exceptions? Is there even a specific rule by which He works?

I don't think we can make many assumptions about who will or won't be in heaven. God is the only one who can see the hearts of men. But I have one friend whose heart is pretty plain to see. He gets songs like this stuck in his head and, even more, stuck in his heart: "Lord, I want to yearn for you. I want to burn with passion over you and only you." What is this but the work of God in him?

I think it's safe to say that salvation isn't about whether you have theological concepts neatly sorted in your mental library. God brings about salvation without any help from my beliefs or my deeds and certainly not from my intellectual grasp of the philosophy of religion. I'm pretty sure that it's the songs you sing to God in your heart that indicate your salvation. When I hear my friend whistling that song across campus, I remember this: "Glory be to God who allows such miraculous things to occur in the hearts of men." and this: "He who searches hearts and minds knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose."

This is Very False:

2010-02-09T18:53:00.006-05:00

The conquerors are the passionate ones.

They go in hard and give all for the win.

No one ever accused Napoleon of not giving a damn.

But we can't all be victorious, can we?

And I, in all self-consciousness and fear of defeat,

I put on apathy and with head held high,

I and my heart will survive.

"Interestingly, 'growing up' is largely a matter of learning to hide our spirit behind our face, eyes, and language so that we can evade and manage others to achieve what we want and avoid what we fear."

Here is truth:

True love always wants to be known.

Fear and love cannot coexist.

Playlist

2010-02-07T16:38:00.003-05:00

1. "Burns Us Up" - Shane & Shane

2. "You Are My Desire" - Scatteredtrees

3. "Words Remain" - Josh Garrels

4. "Yearn" - Shane & Shane

5. "Worthy of Affection" - Shane & Shane

6. "Reign On Your Throne" - Scatteredtrees

7. "Vision of You" - Shane & Shane

8. "Psalm 62" - Scatteredtrees

9. "Creation Song" - Josh Garrels

10. "To the Only God" - David Crowder & Shane & Shane

You are light and you are love

You are flesh and you are blood

Peace will come to those who love

Update: Because I don't have time to sort through old blog posts.

2010-01-27T09:37:00.004-05:00

I'm not a libertarian anymore. Actually, I'm a lot more liberal (okay, moderate) than I used to be. I guess I'm quite the relativist when it comes to government, economics, culture, etc. I realize the need to discern what is important to a culture and to let them seek that. Sometimes (as I'm finding in Britain) people are willing and even, perhaps, eager to pay high taxes so everyone has access to a good health care system. (Yes, actually it is a very good health system. Don't listen to the conservatives who will tell you that nationalized health care will without exception go down the crapper.)

Anyway, there's a lot to say about my new/evolving economic/political views. But forgive me for my semi-dogmatic previous posts regarding politics. (Dogmatism is so hard to avoid. But I try.) I suppose future blog activity will indicate where I stand these days. Hm. Wait and see.

"This heart that you have stolen and left here broken."

2010-01-25T09:57:00.004-05:00

God brought me back to this place again, a place of acceptance and concession to my own finitude. Perhaps I'll elaborate in the future, but for now, this quote from Lewis is my witness:

I am a safety-first creature. Of all arguments against love none makes so strong an appeal to my nature as “Careful! This might lead you to suffering.”
To my nature, my temperament, yes. Not to my conscience. When I respond to that appeal I seem myself to be a thousand miles away from Christ. If I am sure of anything I am sure that His teaching was never meant to confirm my congenital preference for safe investments and limited liabilities. I doubt whether there is anything in me that pleases Him less. And who could conceivably begin to love God on such a prudential ground—because the security (so to speak) is better? Who could even include it among the grounds for loving? Would you choose a wife or a friend—if it comes to that, would you choose a dog—in this spirit? One must be outside of the world of love, of all loves, before one thus calculates. Eros, lawless Eros, preferring the Beloved to happiness, is more like Love Himself than this.
Christ did not teach and suffer that we might become, even in the natural loves, more careful of our own happiness. If a man is not uncalculating towards the earthly loves whom he has seen, he is none the more likely to be so towards God whom he has not. We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armor. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as the way in which they should break, so be it.

Here is the Promise and the Threat:

2010-01-24T18:35:00.002-05:00

That within life,

this precious thing wrought

by a God of light,

though He already fought

and conquered the dark

which sought

to strip us of the Good,

I still find

that in the giving up

and committing to bind

all desires to His cross,

fear still plagues my mind

for I cannot see His hand.

Trust hurts

for we cannot know how He,

who Himself did submit

to the greatest pain that ever could be,

might call us to a fate

the glory of which we cannot see.

For He

who did not grasp

for the glory that would be,

made Himself last,

gave all to a plan

no man could see.

And now, what will He require?

to strip me

of all I have and desire

and think that I need,

to use me for His glory

the sacrifice so necessary

to refine this life

so He

may use me

to bring glory

to the Name of the Father.

And in the end every knee

will bow and everything lost

will by His Name be freed

to praise the one

who by great mercy

accepted the filth that was my only

offering to a God so Holy,

but through the offering

given by the servant king

was set free

to be given up again.

And in the shadow of that tree

I live, set free

to bring glory

and to know my Great and Endless Need

is the only one who will satisfy me.

Oh, what a difference a month makes.

2010-01-23T16:23:00.006-05:00

It has been a while, I guess. I've been neglectful. And yet, so much has happened, I can hardly express it all in blog posts.

First, I experienced Urbana '09 at the end of December. It wasn't shocking or revelatory or especially controversial... In fact, I thought it was beautifully biblical and in every way challenging. All in all, I felt a strong confirmation that I'll never be satisfied doing anything but missions. Now, that's not remarkable in any way--"missions" is pretty broad. But I do feel quite confident that I will spend my life doing some kind of work overseas, hopefully involving economic development and definitely focused on being part of people's lives. That's what I want to do, that's what I feel called to do.

Second, Libby and I made it to England on our own and managed to get around London and now Oxford with ease. It's fun to feel capable of navigating a new country on my own, but even more than that, it's marvelous to feel at home here. I can't attribute that sense of home to any great international sense that I have, but only to God's grace and the generosity of our host family here in Oxford.

Which brings me to the third element-- the people we've been spending time with here in England are a Godsend and a blessing. Steve and Jenny Hellyer are our dad and mom for the month and they are such examples of humble servants yearning for Christ. They radiate love wherever they go.

And I can't forget to mention the other lovely people from Taylor who are here with me: Dr. Ricke is fabulous and hilarious and I enjoy interacting with him and learning from him. Lib is the best J-term roommate ever and we get along as well as an old married couple. Caleb is easily one of my favorite people in existence (and that's even besides teaching us how to play Canasta). New lovely friend in my life is Kirsten Rose Wilhelm: bright, beautiful, and with a heart that's sold out for Christ. And my tutor, Diego, is gracious and patient with me and I'm learning so much.

Things haven't been all rosy, though. In fact, a lot of thing have been more challenging than ever--I've been facing obstacles and bearing burdens that I've never experienced before. All of that deserves a few posts all to themselves, really. But there's this amazingly difficult thing called trust (much like the faith that I can't rationalize) that hurts a lot of the time and always feels uncomfortable...and I've wrestled that beast with complete desperation at times in recent days. And even when I've submitted, it has felt like Jacob's hip being put out of joint as he wrestled the angel at Bethel.

Oh, God has been so present lately, even though I've often felt blind and far from Him. I'm sometimes afraid of what may come because I know it won't be anything easy. He doesn't ask for the simple things that are easy to sacrifice. No, He requires amputations sometimes. But I know good things will come, things that will give Him glory. And that is the purpose and joy of my being so I will choose to seek it.

A Little Encouragement Goodness and a few Proverbs too.

2009-12-27T01:29:00.006-05:00

"Child, trust is unique. Do not waste it. Emotion is not consistent or faithful; fact and knowledge will not satisfy your soul. But hope and trust go beyond your head and your heart.

"When you find something trustworthy, something good, true, excellent, praiseworthy, just, pure, and consistently so, cling to it. In Christ, cling to whatever shows you God's character. Mistrust pervasively characterizes humanity, but not your own life."

"Peace, Child. You don't know what's coming. You don't even know what's happening right now. Be patient. Give it back to me. Holding onto it yourself isn't even faith. Just let me take over."

"Being honest is more than not lying. It demands that we confront all those sin-tainted aspects of our lives and at least acknowledge that we fail. We fail as friends. We don't care, we don't sacrifice, we aren't sincere, we aren't truthful. Let's not pretend like we are.

"But when I admit that I'm a failure, what pride do I have left to keep me from forgiving your flaws? We can see things as they are, take the world as it is, and in this honest light, make the most of our time on earth."

"Honesty requires understanding. We must know the meaning, consequences, and implications of our words. A fool drinks whiskey straight who doesn't know the possible effects of strong alcohol. He who judges hastily or speaks rashly or commands hypocritically is likewise a fool or an evil man."

"People should be told when they're doing something right."

"Honesty is not easy. It's the damn hardest thing you'll ever commit to live by. This is the ethic of warriors and desperate men in a world of children and beasts. The honest man is the enemy of all liars--himself included."

"We are shallow in our praise and hasty in our criticism."

"How can you 'love wisdom' and reject the goodness of humility? Humility is the most distinguishing virtue--because no one has it. The one thing that makes a man a true leader is humility. Anyone can give orders. Almost anyone can make decisions. Most people can organize and oversee. Few can admit when they're wrong, accept criticism, and listen to others with an open mind."

"In every relationship, in every pursuit, in every conversation, in every comment and word and deed, let me only edify, encourage, embolden, challenge, and build up those around me. May I never waste words that weigh others down, may I check myself against His Word to reveal and correct any error or selfishness in me. Let me never judge by my own standard but by God's and by that, all equally. May there be no deceit in me, may my words and actions proclaim His Truth before all else so that His Glory will be my witness."

Amen.

Little Bits of Information That Probably Shouldn't Interest Too Many People

2009-12-23T09:01:00.005-05:00

First of all, I've been on a Josh Garrels kick for about three weeks. That means that he's been about 90% of all music I've been listening to. A-mazing.

Also, I bought books recently. It was impulsive and wonderful and I feel smidge guilty about it. I got A Cry Like A Bell by Madeleine L'Engle from the library for $1. WIN. Then I went to Borders with three 30% Off coupons in my hand and I took full advantage of each one. I got The Eternal Husband by Dostoyevsky, The Idea of Justice and Development as Freedom by Amartya Sen, Knowledge of the Holy by A.W. Tozer, and Life is a Miracle by Wendell Berry. I feel very, very materialistic, but it's SOOO good. I can't resist.

(Actually I made a fool of myself at the bookstore. I took a pile of books in my hands--like 9 or so--and I plopped down with my back up against a table leg and I started reading. I was mumbling to myself, sometimes increasing in volume and even blurting out my reaction to something the author said, and pretty much acting crazy. I hope not too many people were scared of me.)

And that is the lunacy that I end up in when left to my own devices.

This Is My Life, This Is My Family.

2009-12-22T19:37:00.012-05:00

Today has been full of random activites. I slept over at Hoags's house last night which was fabulous. She and I went to pick up a book from Borders, but they didn't have it so we went to Barnes and Noble. Now, we didn't just pick up a book. That's impossible. We spent a total of maybe two and a half hours in the book stores. It was marvelous.

This morning I drove home in a tizzy because I had left my wallet (with driver's license and debit card) at home the day before. I left Downer's Grove with probably 3/16 of a tank of gas. Thank heaven I made it home.

After I got home I rushed to the mall to meet Mom and Grandma in order to find a coat for Gma to buy me for Christmas. (Unfortunately, surprises are non-existent in the world of practical Christmas presents.) I liked the first one I tried on, but Mom said, "Try on some more!" So I did for about a half hour, then ended up buying the first one anyway.

Then I came home and made banana-chocolate chip bread.

At one point while Lara and I were watching Dirty Jobs while my bread baked I asked the brilliant and wise 13-year-old a question I've been pondering for the past few days. "Lara, is it just me, or is our family really nuts??"

Honestly, I have been wondering. For example, my dad is wonderful and extremely eccentric. Sometimes it's hard to hold a conversation with him because he has so many things going through his mind at one time that he can't focus on what's at hand. I think I'm a lot like him, actually. And he's not the only one, but my other family members read this blog. :)

But Lara's answer was, as I said, wise and brilliant. "Yes, our family is nuts." "Oh good, it's not just me," I said. "But," she said, "you're one of those nuts family members."

Yes, I know it. I'm very aware of it. My eccentricities are rather glaring. For example, I write compulsively and I talk to myself a LOT. I think if someone observed my life 24/7, they'd probably think I was schitzophrenic. Also, I am obsessive about books and knowledge and learning. I found a book in B&N yesterday that was the "Human Anatomy Coloring Book." I would have bought it if I hadn't forgotten my wallet at home. I thought how much I'd love to study A&P on the plane ride to London in two weeks.

And these are only the eccentricities that I'm actually willing to write about for all the world (at least, all of those on the world who read this blog) to know. There are more, trust me.

But Lara said something else that was brilliant and wise. "I wish everybody wouldn't try so hard to be on their best behavior so we could all realize that everybody's family is nuts." And she's so right. My family is definitely nuts, but I bet yours is too--no matter how perfect they seem.

Caroline and I went for a walk at Izaak Walton this afternoon. It was full of silliness and deep conversation and made me remember how much I love being home. We talked about eccentricities and she said that her eccentricities make her need grace from others and my eccentricities make me need to give grace to others. An accurate distinction, I think. (We also talked about her poor logic as she came to the conclusion that anything white is a toilet. Then I gave in and we gloried in the little white toilets falling from the sky. Yes, I'm serious. Yes, we were kidding.)

Anyway, there's a lot of crazy in my genes. I'd like to blame my family for my own eccentricites because they bring it out in me, for sure.

*Note: I just took a break from writing to go eat dinner with the family. Oh, heavens.

It takes a lot of grace to love them. I'm sure they give me a lot of grace, too (like when I forget my wallet at home). But as I told Caroline, the fact that our great God loves all of us in our absurdities is only a greater testament to His mercy and compassion. Who deserves such love? Who deserves such sacrifice? Not one, me least of all. And that's the beauty of it.

Christmassy Music

2009-12-19T11:35:00.002-05:00

I used to be such a fan of the day after Thanksgiving because it meant two very important things: lots of leftovers, and we can finally turn on the Christmas music. I have a good collection, too. A lot of stuff from the good ole' 1990s. Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, and lots of sentimental stuff like that. Now I have Sufjan Stevens to help my holidays feel more indie, plus some Sarah McLachlan for the sappy mainstream element that no collection should be without.

And the other great thing about after-Thanksgiving, pre-December 25 days is that we sing Christmas carols in church (and chapel for the lucky 59% of us TU students who actually take advantage of that blessing we have three days a week.) But I'm a little bit skeptical of happy, "comfort and joy" Christmas songs lately. For one thing, how can we talk about peace and happiness so casually, as if snowflakes falling actually represent some calmness and quiet in the chaotic world we live in?

I've had to grapple with "Silent Night" lately. (Oh, jeez. I'm such a dork. No one talks about "grappling" with "Silent Night.") Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace. I can't reconcile "all is calm" with the BBC headlines that pop up on my screen with "Charges Over Iran Prison Deaths" and something about World Cup-brand condoms in South Africa where there are 5.1 million people invected with HIV. (No, it's not funny.)

And I also have trouble with the idea that people all over the United States of materialism listen to these same songs with no concept of what Christ actually did for them. "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." (II Corinthians 5:21) "Calm and bright" makes me think of what Gandalf says to Pippin in The Return of the King. "It's the deep breath before the plunge." On that evening of starshine and angelic visitations, the heavenly realms rejoiced on our behalf, but in the realization that from that moment forth, Christ was in the territory of the enemy.

But this is also compelling. I realize that I must let the world know this, that this is our mandate: to show the world that peace and joy are not "harmony and happiness" but true communion with the one Creator who loves and finds pleasure in us.

Even so, what distinguishes a Christian Christmas? Is it merely the feeling and sensibility which we acknowledge when singing praises like "O, Come let us adore him!" Will mere reflection, though perhaps more genuine than the sentiments of a non-believer, redeem the season and songs that our culture has polluted? When you hear "Joy to the World," how will you recall the glory of what God has done?

My favorite Christmas carol has always been "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." O Come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lowly exile here until the Son of God appear. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come for thee, o Israel. Imagine--the Son of God came in the form of human flesh. Does the Incarnation fill you with wonder? Do you marvel at the miracle and paradox of God becoming like the traitorous creatures over which he rules from his throne in heaven? Will you sing from your soul as the carols ring out on Christmas Eve?

Countdown

2009-12-17T09:27:00.003-05:00

I'm living in the future for a moment. Indulge me:

31 minutes until my last final of the semester begins.

25 hours until I leave TU to pick up Caroline and head home for Christmas.

10 days until Urbana.

19 days until Libby and I leave for Oxford.

My excitement cannot be conveyed through text.

He Will Mess With You

2009-12-09T00:05:00.003-05:00

"If God really did become man, die, and rise from the dead in order that we may participate in the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4), then there is no way that the power of the resurrection is finding its fulfillment in my life because I get a few more twinges in my belly during worship, or I learn what propitiatory atonement means."

I've been thinking about seminary again, why I think I'm going to do it, where I'll go...what do I want from seminary? what do I want from seminary?

I hate that question. I hate it because I keep asking it of myself. I hate it because I feel like I should ask it. I hate it because it's definitely the wrong question.

Does there come a point when you've learned enough? (Maybe for a time. Maybe I need to soak it in for a while.) Learning about theories of being and of God seems so pointless lately. Objectively studying apologetics does more to remove me from being a participant in the story of grace than to make it truly real to me. I look at it from the outside, see how this concept coheres with this logical argument, examine what the implications of this-and-such are on the ontological argument... and it seems so distant. When did I last realize that "that than which nothing greater can be conceived" (TTWNGCBC) is really that than which NOTHING GREATER can be conceived!!? Can my brain even understand that? Certainly not from the outside.

Lewis said in The Weight of Glory, "We do not merely want to see beauty, though, God knows, that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words--to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it." We are made to be participants, not observers; revelers, not merely audience members. You are the bride, not the guests. And this truth should flip your world upside down, people.

And ironically, these days my life only seems to make sense when I remove myself from the picture of it. I must get lost in the glory of His gospel and let myself wander aimlessly, exploring and enjoying the beauty of it all, the beauty of the cross, the beauty of Him.

Wanderer

2009-12-08T22:49:00.004-05:00

Soft footfalls across a grassy plain

One, two, one, two drive me insane

But you remind me with a humble, loving laugh,

"To this you are called, you wanderer. This is your path."

Tonight I will leave you, tonight one more time

It may not be the last, but one can never know

I can't help but regret the hopes I leave behind

Still I walk my road, without looking back I go

But until the morning takes me I will watch you sleep, my friend

You will rise and I will cry to my God to keep you in His hand.

If I survive until Friday, these wonderful things will happen soon after that:

2009-12-07T15:19:00.002-05:00

1. Silent Night

2. Home for Christmas!

3. Urbana Conference '09 (with Grant, Bryan, and Paul!)

4. J-term in Oxford (with Caleb and Libby!!)

5. Get to see Kari, Steve, and Hannah while in the UK!

But until Friday, taking one day at a time. Yes, one very busy day at a time.

Lighthouse Commissioning Service

2009-12-06T21:32:00.008-05:00

In all of those old-school psychological thrillers (or maybe I'm thinking of ACME cartoons...) there's a scene when the hero is standing under a chandelier or an anvil or a bucket of boiling hot tar that is hanging by a frayed rope that will break at any moment. Well, hanging over my head right now is a sharp, 2-ton, crushing three-papers-and-a-physics-test-all-in-the-same-freaking-week. However, I feel compelled to write a quick little scribble of text in reflection on the Lighthouse commissioning service.

First of all, it was beautiful and thrilling how many people came out to encourage our Lighthouse (short-term missions) teams tonight. It's a rough week for most people (like me) but if there's one thing missionaries need (besides funding :) ) it's prayer and encouragement. The theater where the service was held was packed out, all there of their own volition and all with a passion and a heart for the importance of missions. Beautiful.

The music took on a new, tangible meaning for me, too. The "generation rising to take its place" was real, composed of my peers and friends. They cried for God to "fill my heart and make me clean, open up my eyes to things unseen. Show me how to love like you love me." They will need it. My friends will need to be filled up, to be satisfied by Christ's love when everything else is unfamiliar and maybe even frightening, and to move past their concern for themselves to see what God is showing them through images of disease, poverty, godlessness, and unrest. I hope we mean all the words we sing in chapel on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but I know that those men and women who will represent Taylor University most certainly meant those words together tonight.

Finally, Scott Moeschberger showed me what I want my future in missions to look like. He spoke from Micah 6:8, a verse most people around here know quite well: "What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God." But people the world over cry out for justice. Hamas and the IRA demand "justice." How is the Christian's justice different from the world's justice? It is motivated and dictated by the Love of Christ, the loyal, faithful, undying and self-sacrificing grace and mercy of our own dear God. And not only that, but when we give of ourselves we must do so with only Him in mind, demonstrating that we are nothing but servants of the great Judge, the one whose Truth will reign forever over the righteous and the wicked.

We speak of the "passion" of Christ on the cross. What is passion? Passion is love lived out, freely given from sacrifice and the depth of our souls. Passion is action motivated by faithfulness to the Holy Father who calls us and demands our very lives. Maybe it's easy (though I doubt it) to have passion for one month on a Lighthouse trip. But what else will you commit to your God?

This morning in church, Jason Dorsey (*sigh* my favorite) said that, yes, when you become a Christian, God will indeed require you to give up drinking or your sexual promiscuity or your gambling. But I'm sorry, that's only the easy part. GOD DEMANDS YOUR LIFE. Don't take this Christianity lightly. It goes beyond tithing or resisting temptation. When you sing, "Show me how to love like you have loved me," you had better expect Him to do that--because He will and it will hurt. It will be painful. If you turn your life over to God, He will turn your life upside down. HE WILL MESS WITH YOU.

Mercy, justice, humility, love, and passion are the road to which you commit yourself. Don't fool yourself when you try not to fear where God will take you. Don't diminish the call He has placed on your life. It will try you as the cross tried our Lord.

But know that His love and truth will be your comfort in the darkest of times. He will never lead you where He won't accompany you. He will not require of you what He did not do for us Himself. And wherever you go, even if you don't have an auditorium full of brothers and sisters to comfort you, live in the confidence that He will bless you richly for responding to His call. He will know you and you will know Him. You will be His witness and He will be your God.

Please pray for Sarah Albinson, Julie Coddington, Julie Hogan, Kayla Cange, and others who will be traveling to foreign countries in January to serve on Lighthouse teams.

Plagiarism

2009-12-05T13:22:00.003-05:00

George MacDonald is wonderful. So much wisdom that I could never express in words better than his own. So please enjoy and learn from him in the spirit of humility, because if you come at him with a rock-hard heart, his words will only break you.

"No speech at my command will fit the forms in my mind." (I resonate with this.)

"You know nothing about whereness. The only way to come to know where you are is to begin to make yourself at home...by doing something...anything. And the sooner you begin the better! for until you are at home, you will find it as difficult to get out as it is to get in."

"'What is at the heart of my brain? What is behind my think? Am I there at all? -- Who, what am I?' I could no more answer the question now than when the raven put it to me in --at--'where in?--' 'where at?--' I said, and gave myself up as knowing anything of myself or the universe."

"'You have been making a fool of me,' I said.

'Excuse me, no one can do that but yourself.'

'And I decline to do it.'

'You are mistaken.'

'How?'

'In declining to acknowledge yourself one already. You make yourself such by refusing what is true, and for that you will sorely punish yourself.'"

"Life is no series of chances with a few providences sprinkled between to keep up a justly failing belief, but one providence of God; and the man shall not live long before life itself shall remind him, it may be in agony of soul, of that which he has forgotten. When he prays for comfort, the answer may come in terror and the turning aside of the Father's countenance; for love itself will, for love's sake, turn the countenance away from that which is not lovely; and he will have to read, written upon the dark wall of his imprisoned conscience, the words, awful and glorious, Our God is a Consuming Fire."

"Love loves unto purity. Love has ever in the view the absolute loveliness of that which it beholds."

"As it was love that first created humanity, so even human love in proportion to its divinity, will go on creating the beautiful for its own outpouring. There is nothing eternal but that which loves, and love is ever climbing towards the consummation when such shall be the universe, imperishable, divine."

City Love

2009-11-27T23:00:00.007-05:00

Quote of the day: "I can't wait until Christmas when I have a man so we can walk around Chicago together and it will be so romantic." - Caroline

The whole family went downtown today for a “Welcome Christmas!” jaunt. It was delightful. I love the city. (Actually, I love pretty much anywhere, but I am indeed particularly fond of Chicago.) As soon as we got out of the car, Caroline and the girlies and I began composing a list of “Things I Love About the City.”

It was a beautiful day to be in the city. Blue skies, crisp, cold air and not too much wind. I like to look up and see a little patch of the atmosphere framed by imposing buildings of steel and stone and glass. #1. Tall buildings: reminders that the world is bigger than Taylor University.

We walked to Daley Plaza where the Christkindle Market was set up, filling the air with the intermingling smells of cinnamon-roasted nuts, bratwurst, and spiced wine. No really, it was glorious. And very crowded. #2. Black people, Hispanic people, Asian people, and people of all kinds of ethnicities mixed together. I love how you can walk through Chicago and hear ten different languages spoken within the span of ten minutes. #2½. Different languages and different cultures, mingling without blurring, interacting without opposing.

We inevitably entered the world of Black Friday craziness. MACY’S. Scary. Red and silver glittery balls, pestering saleswomen forcing samples of perfume on you, SALE! 30% OFF signs on absolutely everything (making me think that maybe nothing’s really on sale and they just put up those signs to make you think you’re getting a deal. Hm.) But we skipped most of that and headed straight to the lower level where the Frangos are. #3. Frangos. Now, this is a uniquely Chicagoan thing, dating back probably fifty years. Frangos are the most wonderful minty chocolates you’ve ever had. As I told Caroline, nothing brings out my girliness like chocolate. I defy many female stereotypes: I hate chick flicks, I’m mostly rational and very UNemotional in most situations, and I don’t find much pleasure in shopping. But chocolate—man, it’s in my genes. I. Love. Chocolate. And Frangos beat all. Don’t ever ask me about Frangos or you’ll see a totally different, obsessive side of me—and it might scare you.

After we spent about a half hour smelling the chocolate and FINALLY bought some and ate a few [dozen] of them, we headed upstairs to see the famous State Street windows. State Street is one of the famous north-south streets in Chicago, lined with great restaurants, pricey department stores, and exquisite theaters. Personally, I think the best part of State Street is the entertainment that lives on the sidewalk. #4. Street performers are amazing. The best time to see street performers is in the summer, around the end of June when Taste starts up. On every corner of Michigan Avenue you’ll hear the sickest beats. Maybe I like it because it reminds me of Africa (where I dream of going) because the high school-aged black boys sit in the city sun with shirts off, glistening with sweat as they bang on over-turned buckets with vigor, enthusiasm, and great rhythm. (Okay, I have a thing for drummers. I can’t help it.) They make me very happy.

But on the street corners, along with the sound of saxophone and drum beats you’ll hear “Please, ma’am. Can you buy me a sandwich?” “Can you spare a dollar?” “Spare change, sir?” Cardboard signs read, “Lost my job. Lost my home. Lost my hope.” “Help the homeless this Christmas.” It wrenches at my heart. “Things I Hate About the City.” #1. Wishing I could help and not being able. Yes, I can give my tithe or my donation to the Salvation Army, and I do. But when you hear intermingling shouts of “look at that cute coat!” and “spare a dollar, sir?” it’s overwhelming.

I used to go downtown every week during the summer and hang out for a few hours in Millennium Park with a frappuccino and a copy of Chesterton or McCullough. As I walked from Van Buren to the Starbucks on Michigan, I passed so many people who asked this randomly tender-hearted then-19-year-old for a few dollars. I never carried cash in the city (and it’s probably unwise to hand out money anyway), but I always wished desperately that I were a man so I could take them to lunch and hear their stories. There was actually one time I when I delightedly gave away a leftover ¾ of a pizza to a homeless man as I ran to catch my train, but the pleasure I had in sharing that was quickly crushed at the sight of two more homeless people on the next corner. What could I give them?

God, make me ever mindful of your children who are struggling, hanging on for dear life and for a sense of personal dignity as consumers wander about with bags and bags of new things on every arm. Let me do everything out of love for you and concern for your people. Humble me with your blessings and give me a heart that breaks for those hurting around me. And thank you for the city—its glory and its grime and the paradox of blessing and calling.

For Caroline

2009-11-26T00:17:00.003-05:00

Hiding--not anymore.
I won't stay if you don't play your part.
It's more than just me, it's more than you.
Falling in love needs two.

I'm gone--until you realize
I'm gone--if you can see it
I'm gone--but don't you fear.
I've left you in stronger hands.

If you look, you'll see me waiting
Hoping you'll take a second glance.
Because that light in your eyes?
I can see it from a mile off.

We talk lightly of love.
Some even call it a game.
I hope you win every time
But what if that means I lose?

Back to the Beginning

2009-11-25T17:03:00.003-05:00

Now that I'm finally back home for Thanksgiving break, I'm automatically picturing myself elsewhere. (The curse of Homewood, a.k.a. "The Bermuda Triangle.") Actually, I'm looking more thoroughly at seminaries. SCARY. I can't believe I'm really applying to grad schools (or starting to do so). In six months I'll be graduated. Goodbye Taylor U.

I feel as weirded out by the concept of my future as I did back three years ago when I was applying to undergrad schools. Some things have hardly changed: I have no idea who I'll ask to be my pastoral reference, the idea of rejection is as intimidating as ever, and I don't know when I'll have time to visit all these schools.

And some things have changed beautifully--I know myself. I've come more fully into an understanding of God's direction in my life. I know how I'm gifted. I know my weaknesses and yet I have confidence that I only feigned back in high school.

Every year, my faith becomes more and more my own. Every time I'm forced to look back in simple self-reflection, God shows me His faithfulness. I often think, "You've taught me everything. Now all I have left is to serve you." And each time, He laughs and says, "Child, you hardly know what I still want to reveal to you. You who think you have Me all figured out, just wait and see."

So I'm faced with uncertainty, and confidence. CONFIDENCE. I think I've come into a better understanding of that than ever. Confidence doesn't come in knowing yourself, but in knowing your Father and how He is working in your life.

It's a funny thing--with God, we perpetually have new beginnings. It's a new paradox for my mind to play with, horrible and wonderful at the same time: wonderful because the horror of our sin is perpetually wiped away, leaving a clean slate and a new beginning; horrible because the wonder of our Savior will always be incomprehensible, beyond our understanding, and beckoning us to seek Him out.

I will soon be beginning a new chapter in my life. Unknown, unexplored, unimaginable. Intimidating, frightening, unreal. Potential yet unrealized. Promises waiting to be revealed. Hope of something new, building on what He's already given.

Wheelbarrows and Schedules

2009-11-03T14:08:00.004-05:00

On the Myers-Briggs Personality test, there are a couple questions that I particularly like. For example, "You prefer to read a book than go to a party." Actually, I would prefer to read a book at a party. "You know how to put your time to good use." Yeah, I know damn well, I just don't do it. "You are consistent in your habits." Actually, yes, I'm very consistent--in my inconsistency.

It's that habits one. I can't figure myself out about it, actually. I like to be busy (active, rather), but I can't stand to have the same schedule every single day. I like variety, but I like consistency. I like consistent variety. No, varied consistency.

Anyway, I do find myself in a rut sometimes. I'm like a wheelbarrow that finds the straightest distance between two points and goes with it for a while, then discovers that, whether it wants to deviate from the path or not, there's a six-inch-deep furrow that entraps the silly wheelbarrow in monotony.

Not that my life is monotonous. (The people keep it interesting.) But there are two things that have become my six-inch-deep rut this semester. First, lots and lots of people have commented that the Union is my new home. It's not really a problem, I guess. I just like being in the Union. It has people, and windows, and WiFi, and coffee. Everything I need, in that order. And yet, I don't like being "that girl" who's always at the Union. Granted, it's not so bad when you're not an anonymous creeper; I know about half of the people who come in and out of the Union every day and usually have conversations with most of them. But it's like, "Oh. Elena's here. AGAIN." I don't like to be bothersome.

Other potential problem: this is kindof a good problem to have, actually, but I am very consistent in going to the prayer chapel every morning. I wake up at 6:30 every single morning and I go to the prayer chapel before breakfast. But when do your habits become mere habits? Not that I don't enjoy going. I love it. It's the highlight of my day. I just don't want it to be something that I do just because that's what I do. I want it to maintain that beautiful and special uniqueness, despite the comfortable consistency it has developed. I want it to be like a marriage that doesn't grow stale by "forever," but holds that spark and freshness, like the first night of the honeymoon, except better.

The Days I Love the Most: when...

2009-10-27T00:55:00.006-04:00

...I frequently and unexpectedly bump into people I love in random places.

...bands release long-awaited new albums (ahem, Whitley).

...professors give extensions before you even ask.

...the sun makes the orange leaves glow like flames against the coolest blue sky.

...my friends come to me for comfort and advice.

...I have a lot of things to journal about.

...I get to play soccer on a gorgeous green field.

...I sense God challenging me and equipping me at the same time.

...I am actually productive from 10pm to midnight.

...my most beloved sisters send me amusing messages.

Fall Break and the Week Preceding It (or, I'll Never Marry a Philosopher)

2009-10-26T13:19:00.005-04:00

Philosophy students are nuts. Full out, straight up, completely melodramatic and irrational. (Ironic?) We had "The Big" metaphysics test on Tuesday and it was a frenzy of philosophy majors in and out of the union carrying their caffeine pills in one hand, book in the other, and a box of Kleenex balanced on their heads. No one showered or slept or ate for days and the only time we tore our eyes from the page was to cry in each others' arms.

Fortunately, I tried my very best to avoid the panic that consumed most of those dear friends of mine. I was The Rock. No one ever died from a metaphysics test, I told myself. (And no one did from this one, either.) And through all the confusion about ontology, realism, presentism and other concepts of time, I did come to a very solid conclusion about the metaphysics of my life and future: I will and never could marry a philosophy major. When so many people who think in more-or-less the same way start talking about the nature of existence, everything just gets absurd. So that conclusion simplifies my life significantly. Good.

The weekend was Fall Break and a well needed break it was...though it didn't quite serve its purpose like I hoped. I had planned to read Dostoyevski, sleep, read "The Weight of Glory," sleep, and chill out with the chicas (and sleep). There ended up being more running around than I anticipated, but it was good nonetheless.

The best part of the weekend (besides a massage and napping in a heap with Libby, Rachel, and Kelsey) was watching a cross-country meet in downtown Grand Rapids. It was cold and wet and miserable outside and honestly, cross country is pretty darn boring to watch...until you get to the finish line. There, everything comes together in a thrilling climax of collapsing, convulsions, vomit, and utter exhaustion. I watched as guys ran their very hardest to finish five miles in under 25 minutes and as soon as they crossed the finish line, began to fall over, puke their guts out, and stumble into each others' arms.

It was a poignant image of Paul's words in Philippians 3:12-14, Hebrews 12:1 and elsewhere. The race of the Christian life is not a steady jog where we cross the finish line and catch our breath in a few seconds. The runners who came in towards the end of the race weren't half as exhausted, indicating that they hadn't run quite their hardest. No, we have to be like the ones who gave every last bit of energy and ended so gloriously. I want to collapse into heaven, knowing that I did everything for God's glory. Yes, I want to puke my guts out to the glory of God.

Book Burning

2009-10-15T12:39:00.004-04:00

The most satisfying thing I've done in the past week was when I destroyed my journal from last spring. (The title of this is misleading--it's only a notebook, and I didn't actually burn it, but still.)

Actually, I've been thinking a lot about this one. You have to realize that this journal was my LIFE last semester. I filled every single page of it, front and back. A lot of it was very incriminating, a lot of very temporal, self-indulgent thoughts about what I want from my future, my plans, my ambitions, my expectations. Most significant is that not too much of it was relevant past the end of last semester. There was a lot of sentimentality, a lot of hyper-emotionalism, a lot of reading into things.

Really, I wanted to destroy it last semester. The final page read, "But I must rid myself of all of these writings. What do I do with it all? Burn it? Destroy it. Bury it. I don't think I want it to resurface ever. OVER. Let it be so. [I'm so dramatic!] ...Then again, I won't destroy it all. Maybe I'll look back someday and laugh...or learn." So I kept it. I frequently read through my journals (that's the point, right? to read what you've written?) and I often laugh and learn from my own foolishness. But I continued to hold on to this journal mostly because I thought God was still teaching me things through it.

Here's the satisfying part: On Tuesday, I had a relapse. I was inclining towards all the foolishness I used to write in that blasted orange journal. I was praying, "God, I thought I was over this? I thought I learned this lesson? I thought you brought me past that immaturity?" And it was humbling. I realized that He will never finish teaching me some things and my will must constantly align itself with His own.

But in a moment of despair, I was praying and writing and thinking and He gave me the most overwhelming sense of trust in Him. And not only trust in Him, but confidence in myself and the woman He is making me to be. "True victory over self is the victory of God in the man, not of the man alone." And I did something I never really believed I would do--I went through my neon orange journal with that Thoreau quote over the front, and I started ripping out pages. I ripped out the old self that is slowly disappearing into Himself. I left intact the pages where I actually relied upon my God, the prayers where my focus was on Him and His glory.

It's a transformation and a breakdown that I see in my own life. Realize, though--it's none of my doing. I've learned that transformation comes not from seeking something new but by seeking Him more and more. MacDonald said something in Lilith that speaks to this in a round-about way: "You know nothing about whereness. The only way to come to know where you are is to begin to make yourself at home." You'll never be home until you realize that your Home isn't on the earth, is nowhere to be found...until you start looking right where you are, where He is working in you.

It's brilliant.

"Let all creatures be silent before You; do You alone speak to me."

2009-10-14T11:16:00.005-04:00

*Quote from Thomas a Kempis

Here's some word vomit for you:

There comes a point when the problem with praying is not that at the outset it is a struggle to begin, to focus, to have a certain mindset; but that once you finally receive the gift of His presence, you can't seem to want to STOP. When the truest pleasure comes from spending time alone with Him and everything else seems bland and mediocre in comparison, God has become more your crutch than ever.

There have been moments when I struggle to find some kind of motivation to even rouse myself from praying to eat or do what are normally enjoyable activities. Perhaps at this point, other people are confused or think you must be depressed (which may be the case at some times). But I find that in those moments God has shown me the greatest joy of eternity. "Amen" is your least favorite word. Bent knees and folded hands are hardly the beginning of it.

It's even ironic--we often come to God hoping He will fill up the discontentment of our earthly lives. Instead, when we find Him we only realize that the peace that comes in knowing Him only makes the earthly discontentment all the greater.

The LOVE Chapter

2009-10-08T14:05:00.006-04:00

I have a confession to make. See, I've been working my way through Corinthians these days. This morning I made my way to the prayer chapel at a still-dark 7am. After I prayed with Sarah and read a couple Psalms, I opened up to page 959 in my little green leather-bound ESV pocket Bible: the Love chapter, I Corinthians 13.

Okay, here's the confession part: I was tempted to skip over it. YES. Really. I very nearly skipped the whole chapter. I thought, "I've ready this SO many times, I memorized it when I was probably eight years old, and it's so generic and clichéd that I'm positive I won't get anything out of it." (Wow. I'm arrogant. What a bitch! *pardon my language*)

Fortunately, I stopped myself before that went any further. Love is one of the defining qualities of Christianity. If this passage is too overly read to make any difference for anyone, what can the rest of scripture possibly offer me?

So, at the risk of blasphemy, I rewrote this scripture so it would apply particularly to my life. This is what I came up with:

If I compete in Ethics Bowl and have all the right answers but have no Love, I am like a noisy alarm clock.

If the girls on my wing come to me for advice and I provide great insight but do so with pride and with no Love in my heart, I am nothing.

If I'm diligent and disciplined and all my professors adore me,

if I admit when I'm wrong and accept the consequence,

if I do all these things, but have no compassion or understanding, merely doing the deeds without doing them for other people or even for God, I have no Love in my heart and it counts for NOTHING.

With Love, God makes me patient, giving others the benefit of the doubt, sacrificing my own interests, respecting the needs of others first. The Love God gives me does not celebrate my deceitful victories but even when it is bad for me, embraces what is right in His sight. This God-gift of Love can endure all hardships, trusts in God's people, longs for the revelation of truth in and through God's people, and will suffer anything the world throws its way.

Love continues and persists and endures. It lives past rough times. All these things you do in Jesus' name will become history and meet their end. After all, it is only human effort (though God works in it.) But when God's perfection works through us to show and give and do this LOVE that He calls us to, it will last forever in His books of Life.

We were like infants, babbling nonsense that means nothing; but God makes us real men and women and transforms our babble into words, and words of Love. Our understanding of God is so imperfect...but He will fix that through His Love, and we will know Him so well that we can't even dream of it now.

See? These all are good - Faith, Hope, Love. But one will out-do the others in glorifying the Father. Maybe you wouldn't guess - it's Love.

Letter to Ethics Bowl Teammates

2009-09-30T19:05:00.002-04:00

What I Hate About Ethics Bowl
By: an Enthusiast

It’s that time of year again. There’s a chill outside, trees are turning orange, the smell of wood smoke permeates the air at night, and an invigorating sense of excitement accompanies these two words: “Ethics Bowl.”

So call me a geek for loving this, but Ethics Bowl is one of the best parts of the fall semester. Devoted preparation, eager debate participants, and that feeling of pride and utter superiority that no one quite vocalizes but everybody feels: “I am an ethical human being.”

Just kidding—I hope we’re not that vain. In fact, the one thing I hate about ethics bowl is that I’m afraid it gives us a less-than-complete perspective of what it means to be “ethical.” The content of our cases might indicate that “ethics” only involves end-of-life issues, discrimination, human rights, etc. Please—don’t be so fooled.

How do you talk about people when they’re not around? Does pride or your concern for what others think of you alter your behavior? How does respect (or lack thereof) for others affect your speech and actions? You may never make the decisions about whether to kick homeless Kenyans out of the national parks, but you will without a doubt face the day-to-day ethical responsibilities we have as Christians.

I want to challenge you, fellow ethics bowlers. I want to challenge you as those who will one day be held to a higher standard: the issues of an ethics competition are nothing compared to the issues of an ethical life. Ethics are not simple standards, they are how we must live. To quote Dallas Willard, we are faced with “the desperate human problem of knowing how to live, and…the law revealed by Jehovah, Israel’s covenant-making God, [is] the only real solution to this problem.” Love one another. The first shall indeed be last. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.

And I wholeheartedly believe that by engaging in this competition, you set yourselves up to potentially become Pharisees of the worst kind. “Therefore whoever relaxes one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:19) Ethics bowl is not for the faint of heart; the ethical life to which Christ calls us is even less so.

This year, my prayer for you all, my teammates, is that the ethics you debate so well and so eloquently will pale in comparison to the ethical life you live.

“To what end, O Lord? To what purpose? For what reason? None, but Your Glory.”

I don't like taxes, I hate abortion, but THIS IS NOT ME.

2009-09-21T23:32:00.003-04:00

Dangit. I hate this.

George MacDonald, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Elena the Modernist

2009-09-21T18:30:00.016-04:00

I've always considered myself a modernist. It's the reason-loving mind in me, the part that loves apologetical proofs and rational conclusions. C.S. Lewis, Peter Kreeft, and other great theologians of the 20th century have fed that passion with simple (but memorable) logical concepts like "liar, lunatic, or Lord" and such.

Interestingly, my favorite atheistic philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, was rather opposed to the concepts of the modernists. Though most would agree that he was quite consistently rational in his conclusion that a world without God/meaning is pure misery, Sartre insisted that Reason is not the characteristic that sets mankind apart. Instead, he insisted that the Will is the primary quality of human beings (not that he affirmed any human nature).

This aspect of existentialism (Sartre's philosophy) was not unique to atheists. Soren Kierkegaard (of whom I've written before) believed that it is the Will that motivates faith. In fact, according to Kierkegaard faith is directly contrary to reason (as in the case of Abraham's near-sacrifice of Isaac). It is only the Will, the actual choice to live and act for God rather than for the praise of men, that distinguishes the Christian from all others.

Fascinating as this all is, it didn't come to life in my mind until I was reading Lilith and a few of George MacDonald's Unspoken Sermons.

Troubled soul, thou art not bound to feel, but thou art bound to arise. God loves thee whether thou feelest or not. Thou canst not love when thou wilt, but though art bound to fight the hatred in thee to the last...Will thou his will...Heed not thy feelings: do thy work. As God lives by his own will, and we live in him, so has he given to us power to will in ourselves. How much better should we fare if, finding that we are standing with our heads bowed away from the good, finding that we have too feeble inclination to seek the source of our life, we should yet will upwards toward God, rousing that essence of life in us, which he has given us from his own heart, to call again upon him who is our Life, who can fill the emptiest heart, rouse the deadest conscience, quicken the dullest feeling, and strengthen the feeblest will! (The Eloi)

Not to say (as Kierkegaard did) that there is no place for reason, or even for feeling, in the life of the Christian. Indeed, does not God call us to love Him with all our heart (feeling), mind (thinking), and strength (will)? But when reason or feeling fail, what can motivate us to do the good that God requires of us?

It is a choice to love God in the hard times, in the darkness, in the confusion, in the moments of uncertainty. Reason tells you it's absurd. Feelings aren't up to the task. But God promises to conform our Will to His own and in Him we live and move and have our being. "Existence was mine in virtue of a Will that dwelt in mine." (Lilith)

My Recent Aches and Pains

2009-09-20T12:00:00.005-04:00

You know what kills me? what really eats up my heart? what gnaws at my compassion and tortures my soul?

That in the United States, women destroy their unseen babies to maintain a false image of independence that people like to call “sexual freedom.” That in India, women are fighting to get union protection for those in prostitution so they will have benefits and recognition as a legitimate profession.

That right-wing Christians feel the need to condemn Obama’s “socialism” and in the same sentence predict a “great American awakening.” That whenever conservatives oppose the current administration, liberals throw down the racism card. That people think a government-run universal healthcare system or welfare system or anything-system will solve the problem of American rejection of personal responsibility and the need for true community in our world.

That Christ came and answered all these problems two thousand years ago but people just don’t see it.

Psalm 85:9

Caroline

2009-09-12T01:23:00.001-04:00

If I suffer, let me suffer.

If I mourn, let me mourn.

If I fail, let me fail.

I want to know my limits.

Death is a comfort.

Endings and emptyings

Nothing but relief.

I know that I live on a timeline.

Know me for my sins.

Weaken and break me.

Call me out for my faults.

Remind me that I'm so small.

Not glaring but glowing,

My finitude in an infinite world.

Strength is less than enough;

Faith abounds to compensate.

Re: Paradox

2009-09-09T20:17:00.006-04:00

In the tiny bit of a sermon that Randy gave in chapel today (in between talking about bow ties and new landscaping on campus), he hit on something wonderful and excellent and profound.

He said that, while we never really talk about it this way, belief in Christ and devotion to Him is hard work. It is not something that comes easily and it is not always enjoyable. We prefer to talk about the times when faith is emotional, sensational, and comforting--but those aren't the average days. Anything worthwhile in this world--with the exception of Christ's astoundingly free gift of salvation but not excluding His work of sanctification that immediately begins to follow--it all takes work.

Belief...faith without sight or touch or sensation...the days of struggle and distraction and overcoming through Christ's strength alone...those are the days of Hebrews 11 and the men and women who conquered challenges through confidence in a truth that didn't feel real. (At least, it didn't feel as real as the obstacles that stood in their way.) That's the kind of faith that conquers, comforting or not.

We know it. We have faith in it. We believe it. And even when it doesn't feel good, we live it.

A Paradox of Faith, Truth, and Reality (well, for ME anyway)

2009-09-07T22:20:00.001-04:00

"But if I found a man that could believe in what he saw not, felt not, and yet knew, from him I should take substance, and receive firmness and form relate to touch and view, then should I clothe me in the likeness true of that idea where his soul did cleave!" - George MacDonald

Reality is a funny thing. It morphs and changes constantly according to time, perspective, circumstance. Human beings are subject to hormones, emotions, uncertainty, extent of knowledge, time, senses, and so on. The thing that most wholly characterizes the world in which we live is limits. At the same time, God looks at it from His timelessness and omniscience and it remains the same, unchanging, reliably permanent.

This is a paradox: what I feel and sense seems more real to me, yet I do not trust it at all; and while I struggle to experience and enjoy what I know in my head and even in my heart, I never doubt it. Even when I feel strongly for God, when I'm overwhelmed with emotion and sensation of love for Him, I doubt my feelings and attribute them to the worship music or my blessed (or desperate) circumstances or blah blah blah. I live day in and day out with full assurance of my love for God--a love that lacks romantic sparks or flames, though it's hotter than a blazing furnace. What I sense feels the most real but the least true. What I know feels the farthest away but I have full confidence in it.

I am the woman MacDonald describes, but there is no comfort in it.

New [School] Year Resolutions - Part 2

2009-09-06T16:00:00.005-04:00

2. Write, write, write.

Up until the beginning of August, I had been keeping a journal pretty consistently for about six months. It didn't have anything profound (except where I quoted Lewis or Willard, haha). It was a meagre collection of my own silly thoughts expressed in black ink on a book of blank paper created especially for those semi-introverted, self-examining people like me. I abandoned the thing because I have felt a bit conflicted about whether or not keeping a book of my own silly thoughts is too self-centered, whether it's worth my time and effort.

The most amusing and vain reason for keeping a journal/blog is that all the great authors did it (journal, not blog.) They wrote letters, kept journals (Hemmingway made Moleskine famous, after all) and had manuscripts of random scribblings. If ever I become a famous writer, I don't want to be left out of the Journaling Club of Dead Authors (JoCDA for those of you who don't know.)

Another easy answer to my questioning was simply that one becomes a better writer the more one does it. That's as good a reason as any, especially if I want to be a female Dallas Willard someday.

Finally, the brilliant Dr. Kevin Diller unknowingly answered my unspoken question a few days ago when we had our first Metaphysics class together. He said, 1) when you write, you think more clearly and 2) writing allows you to have sustained thought. So I definitely picked up the connection there between writing and thinking. I do a lot of thinking, it would make sense that I'd do a lot of writing.

Most importantly, when I write things down it allows me to look back a few days later and evaluate myself more objectively. I have a vastly different opinion than monsieur Michel Foucault who said, "What, do you imagine that I would take so much trouble and so much pleasure in writing, do you think that I would keep so persistently to my task, if I were not preparing – with a rather shaky hand – a labyrinth into which I can venture, into which I can move my discourse... in which I can lose myself and appear at last to eyes that I will never have to meet again. I am no doubt not the only one who writes in order to have no face. Do not ask who I am and do not ask me to remain the same: leave it to our bureaucrats and our police to see that our papers are in order. At least spare us their morality when we write." No. My writing spurs my morality, forcing me to ask questions like, "Should I have been thinking this? How has my perspective changed? What was influencing my opinion about this at the time? What does God have to say about this?" All good questions, all facilitated by writing and re-reading.

So my second new school year resolution is to journal consistently and about anything in my head or heart. Whether God or Satan put it there, I can learn from it--especially when I write it down.

Irony

2009-09-04T01:03:00.008-04:00

Things are going great for me right now. Really, I'm very satisfied with my life. And I've had enough of it.

Happy times are all well and good, but I don't think I'll ever be happy being happy. I'm happiest when I'm miserable. (I'm not kidding.) In the moments when I feel the most desperate, the most disgusting, and the least desirable...in those moments I love my great God most. I realize in those times that my worthlessness has no effect on His greatness and the grime of my sin only shows that His love is stronger than anything I can imagine.

My sappy spirituality on the good days is nothing compared to my brokenhearted longing for more of His perfection. There's nothing like being silent and helpless before the Father, crying out for Him to fill you because you're empty. I love laughing and I love being satisfied with how my life is going, but "how my life is going" seems to be the opposite of how much I depend on Christ.

I suppose that only shows how much of a disgusting wretch I am. Geez. I'm just one of those people whose faith is a crutch for the hard times, huh? Oh, God, I hope not. But I'd rather be someone who needs a crutch every single day of the week. I want the passion and determination to seek with all my heart, in the hard times and the good ones. That's the challenge. God, let me never be complacent.

--edited September 5--

I realized the obvious yesterday: I can make my blessed life more difficult and I'm also supposed to do so. I think that's why Jesus taught us the disciplines, particularly those of deprivation. In addition to taming the spirit and the desires of the flesh, by giving up those things that comfort or distract or satisfy, I am left empty--and He is more than willing to fill me up.

For example, I'm a fidgeter. When nothing much is going on, I need to be doing something with my hands. Often that lands me on the computer doing something worthless...but last night I tried something different. I pulled out my prayer journal and I copied Romans 8. (I know, I know, get off it already. But I LOVE that chapter!) It was a great way to go through each verse and really meditate over it. It was also cool because I was copying the ESV version and I previously memorized the NIV version so I was able to compare the two as I wrote (I prefer the NIV, fyi.) So that's my new plan--when fidgety, copy passages into my notebook. I want to go through the rest of Romans, then Philippians, and who knows--I'm such an antsy person that maybe I'll be ranked up there with the scribes of the Medieval ages and have the whole New Testament done by May.

Faithfulness

2009-09-03T09:00:00.005-04:00

I think I've explored some different ways of looking at what "faithfulness" means (see post about Kierkegaard from June). This little scribble looks at fides in a couple of other ways.

First: K talked about giving a hope or love or passion back to God with the expectation that we will receive it back. His perspective pertains to the faith required of finite Man to interact with an all-powerful God, having more than just a generic confidence in the Provider. I've experienced this in a small way this year; I don't suppose K would have included it as something wonderful and marvelous in Fear and Trembling, but it has been a fulfilling experience for me.

I gave up something close to my heart, like my child or my great lover or my security blanket...I gave up my PLAN. Plans are good things, of course. K wouldn't have approved of my incident as an act of faith if my sacrifice wasn't a good thing in the first place. Plans are good things because they demonstrate our desire to act, a focus on life beyond the present moment, and a conscientiousness of my purpose and usefulness on this earth. I've learned a lot about plans in the past few years -- 4-year plans, summer plans, travel plans, house plans, work plans, etc. The major thing I've grappled with is how plans change, whether we like it or not (and usually, we -- okay, I -- don't.) But when a plan is swapped out for something I don't understand, when I give up my presumptions and commit myself to taking big risks, embracing my finitude and the sometimes uncomfortable nature that God gave me as a human being...when I personally commit myself to a morality that relinquishes expectations and requirements that I've copied down from "The World's Book of Success Stories"... When I did this, I became something totally different and unexpected: I became a philosophy major.

The short explanation of why this is a leap of faith for me is that I never saw myself as the graduate school type...and now I hear from everyone that I'm headed towards a PhD. WHAT? Where do I get money for that? Am I even smart enough for that? Could I really go places as a philosophy professor? They don't make money--how do I support myself?

Those are the remaining questions. Now to part II: my Faithful God.

I heard a really great song this summer by a group out of Knoxville, TN called United Pursuit Band. They write wonderful worship songs, one of which goes like this: "You provide the fire, I'll provide the sacrifice. You provide the spirit, I will open up inside. Fill me up, God." And that's what I feel like, and that's what He did. Except that, like Elijah, I had to provide the sacrifice before He ever threw down even a tiny spark or ember from heaven. And I had to rip open my chest and hold my delicate, vulnerable heart in my hands as an offering before I could see the Spirit that He would send to me. It goes both ways, faith does. In my short-sightedness, I must give; and as I do, He gives back. And for every little sacrifice that I blindly relinquished, He faithfully gave more abundantly than I could have dreamed.

Now He keeps on giving. It's usually not what I expect from Him, but as I said about this summer, it's usually better than what I plan for myself. I don't think K could have possibly gotten the whole concept of faith right (that God gives back a specific thing that we give up to Him first) because Paul said something a bit to the contrary in Romans 8: "Now, hope that is seen is not hope. Who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it patiently." The blind do not know what good things lie in store for them, nor can they begin to imagine it. The limits about which I only complain prove to be the ways God shows his power--because He is faithful.

New [School] Year Resolutions - Part 1

2009-09-02T16:32:00.013-04:00

1. Find a good, not-too-distracting place to study.

It's taken me this long, right? But really, this might seem easy, seeing as I live at a university--a place created for studying. Yeah, right. There is NO place on this small campus where I can study without distraction. Let me explain my options:

1) Dorm Room. Can't do it there because there are 23 other girls whom I love with all my heart and who seem far more interesting than my physics homework any moment of the day. Plus, they say things like, "Elena, I can't believe you're graduating in May!" Sigh. Don't remind me.

2) Student Union. Okay, I'm introduced as a "connections" person. That is to say, I know a solid percentage of the student body. There are always dozens of people to catch up with and SOMEHOW, they all hang out in the Union.

3) Outside. Well, on the days where it's nice enough to hang out on the grass, it's also warm enough to put you to sleep as you "read" laying out on a blanket.

4) The Library. Oh yes, this one makes me laugh. I mean, of all the places on campus, this one is specifically set aside as a quiet place for people to sequester themselves away to get work done. Yeah, except for the bibliophiles like me who can't be in a bookstore for fewer than 45 minutes.

(One incident: I went to Borders a few days before school to pick up a book for Caroline. I knew exactly the book I was supposed to get, I found it within 5 minutes, and I should have been out of there pronto especially since the grandparents were coming over for dinner that night. Hahaha. I managed to hang around for about an hour. I didn't even purchase anything besides what I came for, though I was sorely tempted.)

Just the knowledge that there are hundreds of books by Lewis, MacDonald, Dickens, Kreeft, Sartre, Dostoyevsky, etc. etc. sitting only a few feet away from me is the biggest distraction of all. There are so many times when I've gone into the library with only the books I need for my homework, spent some 2+ hours in there, and finally left with 20 books in my hands, none of which have to do with my classes. But looking at those books, smelling them, flipping through and discovering that the author was influenced by some other guy whose books are right over on the next shelf and demanding my attention as well... It's addictive. My consolation is that if I go to graduate school and become a prof myself, every so often I'll be able to take a paid year to accumulate and flip through/browse/become engrossed in books of all sorts and call it research. Or better yet-- a sabbatical. Oh, the perks of academia.

Anyway, I've ruled out the orthodox options. Unless I find a white padded cell (a suggestion for myself that I posed to my mom back in 3rd grade), I suppose I'll have to cope with/enjoy the distractions.

Back

2009-08-30T23:06:00.004-04:00

I'm back.

Whirlwind summer: wonderful, excellent, encouraging, invigorating. A change of major (media communications to philosophy) is also bright and sunny in my life right now. Everything is peachy - mostly.

I'm excited about classes (Metaphysics and Principles of Ethics, mostly). I'm excited to see the girls on the wing - my second family. I'm excited for my final year at TU and the good times that will come with it. But certain prospects are intimidating. I'm nervous about seeing some people again after awkward interactions not-so-long ago. I'm anxious about the work load that awaits me with the stimulating and challenging classes I'm taking.

Now's the time to put all the things I learned over the summer into action: trust in a faithful Father, commitment to the wellbeing of the brothers and sisters around me, and willingness to put my very raw and sinful self into their hands and prayers.

It's Been A Heck of A Long Time...

2009-08-27T02:17:00.005-04:00

But the story of my train/bus/car travels over the summer is as follows:

Back in April/May some friends were pretty aware of my *ahem* then-traumatic experience with figuring out summer plans. I remember telling some close friends that I had run out of options and if anything good came from this summer, it was all God's doing and none of mine. Well, seeing how everything has turned out, it would be shallow of me to not tell what came about. And so I shall.

After my Spring Break trip to Nicaragua, I got it into my head that I wanted to do some kind of ministry over the summer rather than just make money or just add to my resume. As it was going, I was getting more stoked about working with a camp for the summer. I checked out a couple jobs that didn't work out for one reason or another. Mostly the issue was either dates or money. As the all-knowing almost-20-year old, I knew full well that I need something that pays. I wanted to serve, but it had to be convenient. Then it looked like everything would work out with the camp in CO. Well, you know the end of that story. I talked with my parents about it and my dad (being the prudent man he is) kept telling me to apply to some local places just so I'd have something nailed down. You know, a backup. Security blanket.

But something--whether it was God or my own discontent--was telling me that there are better options than spending the summer around a bunch of angsty, gossipy, melancholy kids (as at my old lifeguarding job) where I only feel overwhelmed and burdened and the only motivation is the money. But what else do I have? The only option that seemed open was somethign Sarah Edmondson recommended back in March. It was a camp in Tennessee that wouldn't even pay me. When she had told me about it, I (arrogantly) brushed the idea aside, quite certain that I could find something that fit my own plans and needs more fully. But for all my rationalizing, God seemed to say, "Okay, if you think you know what you want from this summer, you have to trust that I'll provide." So I called up the camp director. Not only did we have a great interview, but we got to talking about politics...yeah, he majored in government and economics. It was a match made in heaven. He pretty much offered me the job on the spot. (And it did indeed turn out beautifully.)

And so I made plans to go to Sevierville, Tennessee for the month of July to work at Camp Arrowwood. It's a small program with about 30 total staff members, 12 of whom are high schoolers who would be under my authority. (How that all turned out is a story in itself.) Unknown, unusual, unfamiliar...and I knew completely that something really good would come from it.

Oh, and the money bit. Well, had I taken the job in CO, I probably would have come out with about a third of what I usually make over a summer, but I thought back in April, "I'll take the hit. It's ministry after all." Mmhmm. That was before I took the unpaid job. So even up to the very last day at TU, I didn't know where the cash would come from. But as I was driving home with my mom after commencement, she very randomly suggested that I contact Uncle Ray and Aunt Dorothy, my grandparents' age-old friends who live on a farm in Louisiana. Apparently they hire a couple college kids to work every summer. Actually, Mom was totally joking when she suggested it and didn't even think I'd be interested. Somehow though, when I called about it Ray and Dorothy were absolutely stoked to have me. Heck, they hardly had enough work to keep me busy (they usually hire boys because it's mostly manual labor), but they were willing to find tasks in order to make it worth my while. Honestly, I don't know more generous and godly people. So I got to move to Wisner, LA for a couple weeks in June. (That's the way to experience the South--become part of the community. It's a beautiful and unique thing, let me tell you.) And for all the worry I went through back in the Spring, because of Ray and Dorothy's generosity, in only a couple weeks I made just as much money as I might have if Colorado had worked out.

So I learned and experienced so much more than I ever planned. I lived in Louisiana and Tennessee, visited five new states, met a slew of great and godly people, and came to a new knowledge of trust in God's provision. The question floated in my head, "What if...what if I have to be willing to take big risks and embrace my finiteness and have no expectations or requirements of the people in my life? And what if I throw away my security-blanket conceptions and plans to live out my calling in a real way, trusting that my ultimate satisfaction as a human being and a Christian is not realized in mere personal comfort??" (This was so compelling that I'm actually changing my major to philosophy. That's another story once again.)

I can't believe the last seven months have gone by so quickly. Two weeks in Louisiana and five weeks in Tennessee were absolutely amazing. I've experienced so much, met so many wonderful people, and I've seen God in so much of it. A quick summary of the highlights:

Louisiana
There's no way to experience someplace new than by just throwing yourself into their culture and community. Wisner, LA was the perfect place to do that, too. I learned about farm life. No, really. Irrigating, checking cotton plants for bugs, bringing lunch and dinner to the guys in the field, praying for rain...it's simple, but satisfying. The community in Wisner reminded me of a big family. When there are fewer than 2000 people in your town and most of them also go to your church, you don't really get to choose your friends; they're kind of forced upon you. And you do everything with them and get over your differences and grow closer in your struggles. There's always someone to help when you're in trouble, always someone willing to lend a hand or share a meal or run an errand for you. Very different from the suburbs, unfortunately.

Tennessee
Aaaahh. Mountains. Oh, God, but mountains make the Creator so much more real in day-to-day life. And by mountains, I don't just mean rock and cloud and tree and stream. Mountains have become a metaphor to me--they mean the great men and women with whom God joins us together in order to teach us more about Himself. Jonathan, Claire, David, Will, Seth...those are the mountains of Tennessee that I miss the most. I stand on their shoulders, I share in their joys and struggles, I join them in prayer. And like when you summit a peak, you see everything so differently, so clearly.
Camp was so much greater than I could have anticipated. (Actually, I rather thought it would turn out that way. Everyone asked me the first week or so if the ranch and life at camp was what I was expecting...but I never had specific expectations because I knew God would give me something that was simply good.) The people I met and grew close to were beyond anything I could have hoped for.

So that's the long and short of it (more long than short.) But I knew that God would work something out--and the only thing I can do is share what He's given me because I know in perfect certainty that it was none of my doing.

Philosophical Musings on Bird Adoption

2009-06-09T00:06:00.010-04:00

I'm a mom. After a burst of storm this afternoon, the sun came out again to reveal a bundle of twigs that the wind deposited on the backyard lawn. My mother investigated to find a robin nest and three chicks scattered in the grass. One poor bird was dead, probably from the fall. But the other two were quite alive. Mom and I gently placed them back in the nest without touching them in the hopes that the mother would return. She did for a moment, but then left for good. We had only one choice: to embrace our inner robin redbreast and find worms for these energetic, half-bald babies.

So over the last five hours, I've actually grown rather attached to the two chicks. At first we had them in a cardboard box on the back deck. Mom found the first worms and fed them to the scrawny little things, but then Mom had to leave. That's when I learned lesson #1 from the birds: there's nothing like having someone depend on you to motivate you past your fears.

Now, you have to understand something--I'm not afraid of much of anything. I throw caution to the wind (far too frequently). I pick up bugs, I squash spiders, I eat almost anything generally considered edible (no, not cockroaches, thanks) and not too much freaks me out. Snakes, mice, frogs, etc. are not much to call home about. Actually, I'm pretty fond of the little critters. But WORMS. No. I don't do little squishable things that squirm. Crawl, slither, squeak, and hop don't bother me. Squirm does. I can deal with worms on a hook, but I'd rather not. Nothing grosses me out like worms and larvae. Eww. Ew! Ew! Ew! No. Yuck.

But do you know what I did when my little chicks (later named Willy and Nilly) stretched their tiny, delicate necks and opened their oversized beaks as soon as they saw me?? I dug into the garden and collected a handful of red, squirming, repulsive earthworms. Then I handfed my babies. Because they needed me.

As the adoptive mommy, I started to analyze my new role in their lives. (Okay, we all know I think too much. Don't do the eyes-closed, slap-the-palm-on-the-forehead thing to me. Just get over it.) If I'm the new mommy, do they miss their old mommy? Do they feel abandoned? Betrayed? And what about the grown-up robin who suddenly finds a lot of free time on her...talons(?)? Does she feel guilt? I came to the conclusion--oh, come on! As if I actually had to think this through. Hell no! Birds don't feel. That's a human thing. With our rationality, we are also cursed with the consequences of our mistakes and cowardice. (I know these things. I'm a too-often mistake-making coward myself.) Your mistakes make me feel betrayed. Those feelings of betrayal and abandonment make me not trust you. And maybe you feel guilty because of your actions. Those are all uniquely human feelings. Obviously birds feel some things...hunger, the need to reproduce, sleepiness, etc. But there's not much beyond that for the animal kingdom. Pain is reserved for the humans.

Then as I was watching my birds flop around and climb all over each other in their sleep and every so often let out a "Squeak! Chirp!" and desperately strain their necks to reach out for a bit of worm or fruit from me, I had a new appreciation for the biblical imagery about birds in the Psalms and elsewhere. For example, Psalm 57 says, "in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge..." Caroline was teasing me that I should consider sitting on the chicks while they sleep. I said that I'd thought of that already...yeah, not really. But I did try putting my fist gently on top of them, to see if they reacted to the pressure and warmth of my hand. I guess there's nothing as comforting as the warmth and weight of someone bigger and stronger and softer who cares enough to embrace you. (Mmm. Embrace. One of my favorite words.)

I also considered one of my favorite verses of all time. In Matthew 23, just after the Triumphal Entry, Jesus looked over the city of Jerusalem. He cried, he wept. He looked at that old city of His fathers, the place of promise where every Jew under heaven held his hopes. He said, "Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem. You who stoned the prophets and kill the ones I sent to you. How I've longed to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings! But you were not willing." This verse has always meant a lot to me. The tenderness and true love for Israel is so moving. This is unrequited love. We're not talking about soft, fluffy, yellow farm chicks here. They're scrawny and don't quite have enough feathers to cover their head, much less fly off on their own. The people of Israel, like Willy and Nilly, are demanding and restless yet more dependent and vulnerable than they realize. They know of their hunger and their discomfort, but they know nothing of gratitude and indebtedness and surrender. They don't even deserve His love and they hardly even acknowledge it. Hm.

Aside:
Newest favorite songs of the summer: "Such Great Heights" - Iron and Wine; "Fair" - Remy Zero; "On Your Front Porch" - The Format; "Blackout" - Muse; "My Love Goes Free" - Jon Foreman

Update

2009-06-07T19:59:00.003-04:00

Lots has happened in the last 8 days.

For one thing, I left my teenage years behind. ('Bout time, actually. I haven't felt 19 for quite some time now.) Festivities included an elegant night downtown at Roy's Hawaiian Fusion on State Street. Hot dresses go well with Ahi Tuna Sashimi and Filet Mignon. Then good times with Steve on the old catamaran. Not much wind, but it was good enough to be out on the water in the sunshine for a couple hours. Great birthday, for sure. (Oh yeah, then I lost my wallet and keys. But we won't think about that part.)

Also, summer plans are finally settled in their entirety. They will go as follows:

Train ride on Monday to Wisner, Louisiana for two weeks to work on Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Ray's farm. Bring on the hard labor and sweet tea, baby. I am leaving the computer behind, so blogging (if it happens) will be sporadic. That also means that e-mail and facebook are out so snail mail and cell phone are the way to go.

June 30 take the Greyhound from LA to Sevierville, Tennessee to work at Camp Arrowwood for five weeks as CIT Director and adventure ropes course instructor. I'll be chilling with Sarah Edmondson's old friends from last year. Good times all around.

Greyhound back to Chicago for a couple weeks (maybe hit up some Lollapalooza if I'm lucky? Yeah, right. "Lucky" would have to mean finding $200 on the side of the road. Ah, well. Someday I'll go.) Hopefully more sailing while I'm home... then off to a week in Mich with the fam--swim, sail, Cherry Republic. "Life, Liberty, Beaches, and Pie."

Mmm. And Lara got me a sweet and absurdly bright yellow bag for my b-day that fits ALL the books I need for the summer!! (Seven plus a notebook, to be precise.) It's perfect for traveling.

Oh, and I'm going to write a book. Two, actually. A novel and a Dallas Willard-style philosophy/theology stint. Based on previous experiences, I'm anticipating that it will take some 10 years to get much of anywhere on it. Maybe by then I'll actually be a good writer... A kid can dream, right??

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

2009-05-30T10:29:00.000-04:00

I usually use that old saying in reference to long-distance friendships. John Hasnas (and Frederick Bastiat) remind us that it applies to politics, too.

From WSJ 5/29/09:

By JOHN HASNAS

While announcing Sonia Sotomayor as his nominee to the Supreme Court, President Barack Obama praised her as a judge who combined a mastery of the law with "a common touch, a sense of compassion, and an understanding of how the world works and how ordinary people live." This is in keeping with his earlier statement that he wanted to appoint a justice who possessed the "quality of empathy, of understanding and identifying with people's hopes and struggles." Without casting aspersions on Judge Sotomayor, we may ask whether these are really the characteristics we want in a judge.

Clearly, a good judge must have "an understanding of how the world works and how ordinary people live." Judicial decision-making involves the application of abstract rules to concrete facts; it is impossible to render a proper judicial decision without understanding its practical effect on both the litigants and the wider community.

But what about compassion and empathy? Compassion is defined as a feeling of deep sympathy for those stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering; empathy is the ability to share in another's emotions, thoughts and feelings. Hence, a compassionate judge would tend to base his or her decisions on sympathy for the unfortunate; an empathetic judge on how the people directly affected by the decision would think and feel. What could be wrong with that? Frederic Bastiat answered that question in his famous 1850 essay, "What is Seen and What is Not Seen."
There the economist and member of the French parliament pointed out that law "produces not only one effect, but a series of effects. Of these effects, the first alone is immediate; it appears simultaneousl with its cause; it is seen. The other effects emerge only subsequently; they are not seen; we are fortunate if we foresee them." Bastiat further noted that "[t]here is only one difference between a bad economist and a good one: The bad economist confines himself to the visible effect; the good economist takes into account both the effect that can be seen and those effects that must be foreseen." This observation is just as true for judges as it is for economists. As important as compassion and empathy are, one can have these feelings only for people that exist and that one knows about -- that is, for those who are "seen."

Activism

2009-05-29T01:28:00.004-04:00

There is a time and place for government intervention in the actions of the people. But I'm more convinced than ever that the true role of government in economics is much smaller (and the importance of private business is much greater) than anyone in DC would have us believe based on their policies.

An excerpt from The Economist

The American economy is dynamic because Americans like it that way, even now. A Pew poll released on May 21st found that 76% of Americans agree that the country’s strength is “mostly based on the success of American business” and 90% admire people who “get rich by working hard”...

Yet Mr Obama—and, even more, his Democratic allies in Congress—could do lasting damage to this marvellous machine. That is not because the president is a socialist, as his detractors on talk radio claim. No true leftist would be as allergic as he has been to nationalising tottering banks, nor as coldly calculating in letting Chrysler, and probably General Motors, end up in bankruptcy court.

Moreover, even the most stalwart defenders of the free market, including this newspaper, admit it has shortcomings that only the government can address. The financial system requires close oversight, or crises will destabilise it. In recent years, such oversight has often been absent or fragmented...And the current crisis calls for aggressive and temporary fiscal and monetary intervention that is not justified in ordinary times.

But the Democrats’ present zeal for government activism often goes well beyond addressing market failures. The president and Congress seem to believe that they can surgically intervene in the economy but overlook the unintended consequences.

Fiscal and monetary policy are more powerful than an atomic bomb. Milton Friedman said that they should only be used to balance the natural growth of the economy, that there is no place for monetary activism in a stable economy. I wouldn't even go so far as to say that this is a "crisis" in the way that most Americans imagine it. Economists are the last ones to freak out in a recession because they have a long-term, "big picture," wholistic perspective of what's going on. (That's just one of the reasons economics is such an attractive subject to me. Everyone's just chill and levelheaded. It's beautifully unemotional.)

We talk about "what should be done" but fail to consider that things often sort themselves out with less intervention than we suppose when we're in the middle of it. Economics always seek equilibrium and rarely need government assistance to do so. Whether we're implementing a National Sales Tax or creating a Systemic Risk Council, if we think in terms of "There's no room for more delays!" as José Manuel Barroso said, we will run into more trouble than we can see from our shortsighted perspective.

Fear and Trembling

2009-05-27T22:19:00.004-04:00

Kierkegaard is pretty great. Just throwin' that out there.

I've been all into Fear and Trembling these days and it's surprisingly consistent with my own experience. One thing that's particularly striking is how Kierkegaard writes that faith is not something we can easily communicate. We cannot express it in mere words. I've definitely faced this in the last few months. Words fail. Expression is impossible. Any noise I might let loose falls short of conveying the truth and conviction of what I know in my head and my heart. I've been driven into spells of silence. Not going mute, but succumbing to the feeling? passion? thoughts? (even now words are insufficient for me to say what I mean) that are overwhelming. I can hardly describe them to myself, much less another human being.

Kierkegaard also describes faith as something beyond mere resignation of what we cannot sustain on our own. Abraham did not merely sacrifice Isaac with no expectation that God would do something great through it all. He didn't just "let go" or "give up." The difference is that he expected--he had faith--that God would follow through with His promises even though the obvious means were gone. Perhaps true faith was even the very specific expectation that, though God was taking Isaac away, He would surely give him back somehow.

The question comes, though, regarding specificity and subjectivity. When we seek God in faith, can we come to Him with great expectations that very specific desires of our heart will be fulfilled (though, perhaps in His time)? Or do we give Him a ton of slack, acknowledging that He will in some way fulfill our happiness, whether in this life or the next.

The former option requires a lot of wisdom. In fact, it seems irrational to others (perhaps why we fail to communicate it well.) These are things we desire that couldn't easily be explained away. What we ask for--expect, even--are almost miracles. And yet, we can't go wishing things completely subjectively, arbitrarily even, and say that God will bring it about because we "have faith." Perhaps we go on with this "faith" through the rest of our lives, living in perfect "confidence" that God will give us our hopes and desires. But then we die and discover that, though good things have come and more good awaits, in this specific instance we have been deluding ourselves. We lived in illusion and to God's disgrace, we dubbed it "faith."

The latter option seems to be entirely irrelevant in its vagueness. If we hope in generalities, thinking "whatever comes, God will work it out," it will no doubt become true. But there is no test in that, no determination, nothing to try a person and test their trust and dependence on the Father. As the Cheshire Cat said to Alice, it doesn't matter what road you take if you don't know where you want to go. We almost make our God too little by giving Him little expectations. Ask for big things and see what He gives you.

So I suppose it comes down to discernment. We can't be arbitrary, but neither can we be limited. Pure reason falls short, but mere feeling or intuition is absurd. Faith is the grey area where we seek Him, give all for Him, and acknowledge that when it all works out, it's because He acted on our behalf. "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express... He who did not spare His own Son but gave him up for us all, how will He not also with him graciously give us all things?"

Bibliophiles

2009-05-26T13:14:00.002-04:00

I'm so proud to come from a family of biblioholics. We are quite literally addicted to the written word. I think of the one ring...how Bilbo said, "I'd just like to hold it..." Yeah, that's my family and books.

For example, my sister got a book called "The Life of the Mind" for my dad for Father's Day. I picked it up and started reading the back and a certain giddiness overcame me. There's a very pure pleasure in simply holding a book that is obviously a vessel of wisdom and knowledge. And it's not just me, either. Same aforementioned sister received a philosophy book after graduation from one of her profs and she showed it to Dad. He said, "Can I see it for a minute?" Sally replied, "No, I'll never get it back!!" So Dad asked, "Well...can I at least hold it?"

Ria and I were sitting on the screen porch (I was engrossed in Fear and Trembling) and she interrupted to ask, "Do you have a huge list of books to read this summer?" To which I excitedly and enthusiastically rattled off my (growing) list of Readables for the next three months. She smiled at me and said, "I thought so."

I love my family.

Updated Reading List

2009-05-24T14:25:00.002-04:00

adding (upon recommendation by Christian Leman)

11. Lilith
12. Orthodoxy

Summer Reading Ideas

2009-05-16T18:03:00.003-04:00

I won't say "Summer Reading Plans" because, well, it might not happen. But these are on my list for now:

1. Degenerate Moderns by E. Michael Jones
2. The End of Racism by Dinesh D'Souza
3. Roughing It by Mark Twain
4. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
5. Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky
6. God in Search of Man by Abraham Joshua Heschel
7. Fear and Trembling by Soren Kierkegaard
8. Democracy in America (to finish) by Tocqueville
9. The Everlasting Man (to finish) by G.K. Chesterton
10. The Divine Conspiracy (to finish) by Dallas Willard

Peter and the Sea (and Random Vacation Memories)

2009-05-06T22:14:00.011-04:00

Well, well. It's a wonder that this blog is even titled "Seaweed and Seashore" yet I've never mentioned my favorite Kreeft book, The Sea Within: Waves and the Meaning of All Things.

What can I say but that this is the most peaceful book I've ever read. Once again, this man gives words to my soul's schizophrenic thoughts. He puts things in a layman's terms while describing things in such detail--sometimes even erotic detail--that it brings me further and deeper into the God-realm of things.

"Why does the image of God feel such passion for the cold salt water? Why do immortal spirits created only a little lower than the angels fall so desperately in love with a trillion tons of H2O laced with NaCl? Most books about the sea are full of external data. They tell you what causes storms, for instance. But they don't tell you what causes our fascination with storms: they don't tell you about the storm within. They tell you how the wind raises waves. But they don't tell you how the waves without raise waves of wonder within."

(Confession: the first time I've really swam in the ocean was over spring break when I was in Nicaragua. Lake Mich and other freshwater paradises have been my home for the last 19 years. I never realized the real sea was so salty!)

"We know where we find what we want: at the sea. But we don't know what we want there. We know what we long for -- the sea -- but we don't know what it is that we long for when we long for the sea. Perhaps we never will. Perhaps the infinite sea can never fit into finite mental or physical cups. Perhaps all that can be clear is this: that all there is can never be clear."

Best vacation ever: last summer when I spent hours -- straight up HOURS -- lying on a floating raft in the middle of a bay in Lake Mich. I slept on the dock at night and when the sun got warm, I swam out 200 yards to the little wooden raft with the sketchy ladder and probably Zebra mussels underneath and I slept in the sun, getting super hot and way tan (by August I usually have such a solid base tan that I don't even care about sunscreen anymore.) It was the most perfect week I can remember. And when I wasn't sleeping under the sun in the middle of the lake, I'd either read David McCullough in the hammock or the chicas and I would bike into town for ice cream or to read Howl's Moving Castle at the marina.

"The mind as well as the body can drown in the sea. If you have the habit of staring into it like a lover into the eyes of the beloved, its eye can hold you like Medusa. The spirit of the sea is far stronger than the human spirit, and captures it easily, especially in storms, the most exciting of all the sea’s charms and also the most destructive...
Why do we find the most destructive things the most captivating and enrapturing things?...
But she gives the poet, and the poet is in all of us, a strange, deep pleasure that is a kind of pleasant terror; not just a contentment and satisfaction but a wonder and fear that we find more delightful than the contentment that calms fear. For the fear is not a fear for our personal safety but simply a fear at her size and majesty...
We feel this wonderful fear most when we are alone. The sea looks tame when seen from a crowded beach full of blankets and umbrellas and chairs; but the same sea looks very different at night when the beach is deserted and you are alone. The water seems to leap up and bow down. It rises and falls like a drunken sailor. It is unpredictable. Little waves seem big at night when you are alone. And this is when we love the sea in a peculiar way, when we fear it most.

Why do we love what we fear?"

When we were swimming in the Pacific over spring break I experienced the beach like never before. Waves twice as tall as me (or were they? Constantly moving, I could hardly even tell.) And I was so overwhelmed. It was exhausting just to keep breathing and no shit. I kept thinking, "It's sure as hell good that Mom isn't here -- she'd never let me swim in these conditions!!" (Love you, Mom!) But being overpowered like that?? Oh, was it good. Like apologizing or being humiliated or failing. Utter incomptetence. It could have killed me at any second.

I've mentioned this before, but one of the most excellent moments of my life was when I was on the beach at night (mostly by myself except for Dad who was praying at a picnic table nearby) and it was storming. Baby, was it ever. That wind picked up the most wonderful waves and I could hardly hear myself in the roar of it all. And I shouted at the very top of my lungs (though you probably couldn't hear me anyway) "WHAT THEN CAN WE SAY IN RESPONSE TO THIS?" I wonder how loud God's voice is...

"All waves speak, but they speak in tongues, and we can’t interpret their speech. That’s probably because it’s too simple, like God’s. Maybe all they’re saying is I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU until the end of time. Like God."

Bully Politics

2009-05-06T16:54:00.000-04:00

Amity Shlaes is a pretty sharp writer. Unfortunately, she has picked up on a trend in the writing world that threatens straight, unbiased journalism. Article here.

Is this really possible? Can the government really do all of this so blatantly? I don't know, and I suppose I wouldn't put it past some people. But I'm a little skeptical and I'll be intrigued to follow this in the future.

Consolation

2009-05-04T20:25:00.014-04:00

I've been living in the netherworld lately. Neither here nor there, pretty much not anywhere.

Lots of uncertainty and that bugs me. I'm not an uncertain person. I think and I conclude and I act. But there's no solid ground these days. My plans have been thwarted left and right, replaced by new plans, and then those change, and still nothing is decided. Even my thoughts have all been half-baked lately. I just can't figure it out. The only respite I find is when I mob over to the prayer chapel and admit to God that the words just aren't there. They aren't sufficient. My prayers begin, "Oh, Father..." and even my mind simply babbles something like, "I'm tired...don't understand...how?...thank you for...I can't begin...what will happen?...am I beginning or ending?...what now?..." etc. etc. until I just say, "God, you know my heart. Accept my silence." It's a profoundly humble feeling.

But still, I don't like the constant wandering. Lewis talked of it in A Grief Observed. He called it "empty successiveness," "a permanently provisional feeling," like my life is just something temporary, waiting to be traded in for the real thing.

Jars of Clay: "You know who you are and you know what you want. I've been where you're going and it's not that far. It's too far to walk, but you don't have to run. You'll get there in time."

Obviously I'm not the only wanderer.

Hebrews chapter 11 pt. one (summary): lots of men and women of great faith were wanderers, too. They had no city to call home. They were exiles.

I think I'm an exile.

Lewis wrote about a certain sense of unbelonging in the Horse and His Boy, my (probable) favorite of the Chronicles of Narnia. "We were made for something greater." I've always resonated with Shasta. "What about all my troubles?" Oh, yes. Haha, my troubles. "'Who are you??' the boy asked. 'Myself. Myself. Myself.'"

Hebrews chapter 11 pt. two: The people who were exiles lived in anticipation of a better world instead of looking constantly backwards. Like Shasta, they were made for something greater.

"God was not ashamed to be called their God,
for he has prepared for them a city."

That's consolation if I've ever heard it.

Reminisce

2009-05-03T20:22:00.004-04:00

I've been thinking about Outward Bound lately. I was looking at a map of Colorado and I happened to stumble upon Leadville, our final location. Then I got to looking around to see if I could recognize any mountains or rivers we trekked. Then I ended up tracing our entire route. I couldn't believe I remembered it, actually. But Oh! the memories.

Here's a map of our great and grand journey.

View Outward Bound 2007 in a larger map

Shane Claiborne and Thoughts

2009-04-28T08:45:00.006-04:00

He visited campus yesterday and spoke last night.

Nothing new, really. I've heard most of it before and I've read his book. But oh, was it good. I needed/wanted to hear all of that so badly.

Lately I've been frustrated beyond words (literally, sometimes) about being so self-consumed. College campuses only facilitate that self-centeredness. I don't have to worry about anyone except myself, for the most part. This is about MY classes, MY grades, MY resume, MY friends, MY life. I'm so done with that.

I realized it especially because even my prayers seem self-focused, thanking God for what He's done in MY life, considering MY flaws and moral failures and how to improve MYself. And really, that's not horrible; at least I'm talking to Him and giving Him credit. But I've always wanted to learn contemplative prayer, being able to focus purely on God and not in relation to anything else. But a friend pointed out to me that our minds just can't work that way. And I guess that's part of being finite.

But still, I want to get outside of myself. Yeah, people say that crap all the time, I'm sure. But really, I want to pursue Jesus with single-mindedness. Singly focused on Him.

If you didn't know, I've been in a long and drawn-out process of applying for an internship in Washington, DC this summer. It looked super promising and I thought it was the best opportunity ever. I would be able to explore how media fits into public policy, maybe learn more about non-profits, etc. etc. etc. Well, they've been frustrating and haven't even gotten back to me since the final interview over a week ago (I can stand rejection, but heaven and earth, don't forget about me.) Anyway, I don't even care anymore. I don't want to work for them. Even if they showed up and apologized and wanted me desperately for the summer, I probably wouldn't take it. Instead, I'm going to work at a youth camp in Colorado. Hm, let's look at this: prestigous non-profit, exciting field, competitive pay, DC, independence, and portfolio pieces vs. small youth camp, cabins, pay?, angsty teen campers, being totally tied down to one location for two and half months... Easy decision!! (Of course, there are lots of plusses to Colorado that I didn't put in that list. For example, Colorado. But still, you get the idea.)

Anyway, for once, I'm stoked about life after May 23. Yeah, there are still a lot of uncertainties (heck, I don't even have the Timberline job yet) but God didn't create us to be omniscient. So in the midst of everything, I am left with one option:

#4 Embrace the fact that you are finite.

"The pursuit of what is true..."

2009-04-20T13:54:00.007-04:00

Recently I embarked on a vendetta against the word “pursue” in the context of romance. I really hate it. It’s such an inappropriate word to describe true (i.e. real) love. Webster says, “pursue: 1) to follow with enmity 2) to follow usu. determinedly in order to overtake, capture, kill, or defeat… 4) to seek to follow, obtain, attain to or accomplish.” It’s very similar to “persuade” which is “1) to induce by argument, entreaty; to win over by an appeal to one’s reason and feelings; bring to belief, certainty or conviction; argue into an opinion or procedure...” etc etc.

“Pursuit” or “persuasion” should not be necessary because it presumes two things. First, I’m no animal and you’re no hunter. I won’t be a trophy; I won’t be conquered; not something passively surrendered. I, for one, will not be prevailed upon. (You could read gender roles into this whole vendetta, but I don't think that's necessary.) I will not be “convinced” of someone’s goodness or of the rightness of a certain relationship. It should be obvious. If I give myself up, I guarantee that my surrender will be active. I will initiate my own self-sacrifice. I will go willingly because it will be something that I deem worthy of my very LIFE.

I think what bugs me about part 1 of the problem comes out of a stereotype that culture perpetuates through chick flicks and all that nonsense that bugs me so much. The stereotype is that “women don’t know what they want.” In all the stories, men try to figure out what women want but are unsuccessful because not even women supposedly know what they want. So then the man just ends up sweeping this girl off her feet because she has no idea of what she’s really searching for.

This denies the first rule of philosophy: know thyself. Not only should we know our weaknesses, our strengths, our purpose, our passions, our origins, our values and our worth, but we should know what we want. It should come out of our whole “practical ontology,” as Jason Dorsey said in church yesterday. And though this may sound arrogant or presumptuous, I do believe that I know what I want. I want goodness.

That leads into the second presumption, which is that I need to be convinced of someone’s virtue. No, goodness does not hide itself. Like a city on a hill, goodness cannot be disguised or obscured and therefore does not need to be drawn out or revealed. I’ve consciously decided that I don’t seek friends or romance or some sort of secondary fulfillment. I seek goodness and goodness is apparent, clear, and straightforward.

Not to say that I’m lacking any of the former, however. Maybe my standard sounds too high, but I do know some who meet it. No, those people come more naturally and more wholly when it is part of the greater pursuit. The men and women whom I call my friends are people I’ve met along the way, even stumbled across inadvertently. Yet the common purpose that we share, the passion for something beyond ourselves is the ultimate objective, not one another. Pursue goodness.

I’ve struggled to find a good replacement word though. Whatever it is, it must be something that expresses mutuality as well as the context of the action as part of another bigger pursuit. I think the only word that is appropriate is “sacrifice.” There’s a sense of meeting in the middle, of each giving something—giving of oneself, giving of your own desires or self-interest in order to serve others. That is what love is, not a chase or a hunt or an unveiling. It’s consistency, willingness, action, and daily dying to the self.

Is Planned Parenthood Racist?

2009-04-14T18:18:00.000-04:00

Yeah, that's an inflammatory statement if I ever made one. But still worth considering...

Check out this article from Kathryn Jean Lopez of NRO and make up your own mind.

Superfluity

2009-04-12T01:55:00.008-04:00

And when words are not enough? What then? What comes when our words are neither sufficient nor necessary, when they litter the world and have no meaning?

God is silent too, sometimes. He knows that what we try to say is not what needs to be said. Our answer cannot be fitted so that it may be expressed in syllables, vowels, and consonants. Sometimes we can only acknowledge that silence is the best we can muster.

(Forgive my repetition; I know I've included some of these before, but they are more than worth sharing once again.)

“If I could prescribe only one remedy for all the ills of our modern world, I would prescribe silence. For even if the Word of God were spoken in our world, it could not be heard, for there is too much noise. Therefore, create silence.” – Kierkegaard

“Have you noticed this about him…that he has done so much and said so very little? …The man has not spoken for hours; and yet he has been speaking all the time…He wants to express himself, not with his tongue, but with his arms and lets—with my body I thee worship, as it says in the marriage service. I begin to understand…why the mutes at a funeral were mute. I see why the mummers were mum. They meant something.” - Manalive, G.K. Chesterton

“My Lord Jesus, I find it difficult to talk to You. What can I say? I who have turned away from You so often in indifference. I have been a stranger to prayer and undeserving of Your friendship and Your love.” – Thomas á Becket

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? ...Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies.” – Romans 8:31-34

“But Jesus gave him no answer. So Pilate said to him, "You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you?" Jesus answered him, "You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above." – John 19:10-11

“I say, therefore, that there is no creature (toad, scorpion, or serpent) so noxious as the gods. Let them answer my charge if they can. It may well be that, instead of answering, they’ll strike me mad or leprous or turn me into beast, bird, or tree. But will not all the world then know (and the gods will know it knows) that this is because they have no answer?” - Till We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis

“But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he gave no answer. Then Pilate said to him, "Do you not hear how many things they testify against you?" But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.” – Matthew 27:12-14

“There was silence in the dark assembly long enough for me to have read my book out again. At last the judge spoke. “Are you answered?” he said. “Yes,” said I.”
The complaint was the answer. To have heard myself making it was to be answered… I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean?” - Till We Have Faces

“And no one was able to answer Him a word, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask Him any more questions.” – Matthew 22:46

“When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of "no answer." It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, "Peace, child; you don't understand.” - A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis

“I ended my first book with the words no answer. I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice? Only words, words; to be led out to battle against other words.” - Till We Have Faces

“He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.” – Isaiah 53:7

This is what I think

2009-04-06T22:34:00.005-04:00


Thank you Wordle.net for telling
me a bit about myself.

So much goodness.

2009-04-05T15:38:00.004-04:00

Sometimes, nothing beats those hour-long guts-spilling conversations with Mom.

Lewis speaks what my heart feels. Yes.

2009-04-02T21:51:00.008-04:00

Most recent favorite book: A Grief Observed. This book has contributed to an out-of-self experience I've had over the last two days. Overwhelming...and ultimately very powerful.

Without going into the grimy and incriminating details, I've experienced something very much like the death of a dear friend. I picked up A Grief Observed accidentally almost, because another book I have references it in several places. I only happened to have it with me when I was struck with grief over the loss of my friend.

I was shocked at how closely it described my own experience. The emotion, the physical pain, the anxiety, the anger, the fear... I felt it intensely. More than anything, I had to come to terms with how I would respond to this loss. What do you do when you lose someone you love? How do you respond? Do you "get over it," rationalize your emotions and move on with your life? Can you ever return to the happiness that you once had, whether with your friend or before the two of you ever met? How can you return to that kind of happiness after knowing how much a truly special person impacts your life? It's naive to think that anyone can do that.

Did you ever know, dear, how much you took away with you when you left? You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things we never shared. I was wrong to say the stump was recovering from the amputation. I was deceived because it has so many ways to hurt me that I discover them only one by one.

I wrote something before all of this that became more real to me after it actually happened. "Whether you are near to me for the rest of my life or this is the last time I say goodbye, I thank God for you." Before my period of grieving, I though I meant these words; but I only meant them half-heartedly. I knew that I could thank God for how my friend impacted me while were together, but part of me would eternally resent that we were ever separated. But no. Now I know fully--I can and will thank God for the continued influence and impact of my friend's life.

I wrote the other night that bereavement is not the truncation of married love, but one of its phases... What we want is to live our marriage well and faithfully through that phase, too. If it hurts (and it certainly will) we accept the pains as a necessary part of this phase....We were one flesh. Now that it has been cut in two, we don't want to pretend that it is whole and complete. We will still be married, still in love. therefore we shall still ache. But we are not at all--if we understand ourselves--seeking the aches for their own sake. The less of them the better, so long as the marriage is preserved. And the more joy there can be in the marriage between dead and living, the better.

But I don't just want to remember my image of my friend. No, there was so much more that I can't capture in simple and happy memories or in a collection of photographs.

Images, whether on paper or in the mind, are not important for themselves. Merely links. Take a parallel from an infinitely higher sphere. Tomorrow morning a priest will give me a little round, thin, cold, tasteless wafer. Is it a disadvantage--is it not in some ways an advantage--that it can't pretend the least resemblance to that with which it unites me?

I need Christ, not something that resembles Him. I want H., not something that is like her. A really good photograph might become in the end a snare, a horror, and an obstacle.

And finally, I learned so much about God in this brief and miraculous time of grief.

When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of "no answer." It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, "Peace, child; you don't understand."

Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable. How many hours are there in a mile? Is yellow square or round? Probably half the questions we ask--half our great theological and metaphysical problems--are like that....

"They say these things are sent to try us..." But of course one must take "sent to try us" the right way. God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't... Sometimes, Lord, one is tempted to say that if you wanted us to behave like the lilies of the field you might have given us an organization more like theirs. But that, I suppose, is just your grand experiment. Or no; not an experiment, for you have no need to find things out. Rather, your grand enterprise. To make an organism which is also a spirit; to make that terrible oxymoron, a "spiritual animal." To take a poor primate, a beast with nerve-endings all over it, a creature with a stomach that wants to be filled, a breeding animal that wants its mate, and say, "Now get on with it. Become a god."

Cultural Differences

2009-04-02T18:33:00.000-04:00

I spent last week observing how business is conducted in Latin countries (Nicaragua, specifically). It was a great learning experience. Though the basic principles of business remain the same, the approach and perception of everything is so different in their culture than in ours. We had to adapt our mindset as we tried to apply certain ideas in order to help the small business owners develop their ventures.

And of course, the same applies to international politics, as Mark Silverberg says today in American Thinker. ENJOY.

Three posts in two days? I'm on a roll.

2009-03-31T12:08:00.008-04:00

I guess a lot of things have been ruminating in the past two weeks. Here's another one.

I've composed a new phrase to live by. It might seem harsh, but I'll explain it.

"Be sure you're worth the words you use to say what's on your mind."

I've noticed that people are often extremely superfluous. We talk on and on about unnecessary things. Our words are fluffy and ultimately mean little in the grand scheme.

Of course, as Naomi Watts says in one of my favorite movies, "If we only spoke when there was something to say, the human race would soon lose all power of speech." But please--please, please, please--if you're going to say the superfluous things, say the important things, too.

People waste words. Perhaps words are (to borrow an economics term) "public goods" that cost us no money and are in endless supply. However, the consequences of ill-spent words can be more than we instinctively foresee.

Do we even know what we mean, who we are, the truth we think we try to communicate?

"Lightly men talk of saying what they mean...when the time comes to you at which you will be forced to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about the joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they listen to the babble we think we mean?"

Liberty is natural and instinctive; but ethics are a rational restriction we impose on our own behavior for a greater ultimate good. Perhaps we say what comes to mind, break the ice, tell that story you happen to think of as a result of a funny coincidence...but what are we saying? Do we consider that speaking is an action, and one that requires ethical consideration?

My most compelling ethic lately has been Authenticity. It takes true courage and honesty to be authentic--to live as God made me, owning my own personality and passions, and to remember that it's His image that I bear. Yet we humans are hasty and thoughtless in our anger, but hesitant and shallow in our encouragement. To love is to value, to know truth. We take for granted our priceless proximity and depart alone, undiscovered, unfamiliar.

Consider the value, impact, and meaning of your words and your life. Live as the image-bearer and co-heir that God made you to be. Then tell me something that's worth the words you use to say it.

WORDS TO LIVE BY

2009-03-30T23:42:00.001-04:00

"Good intentions never set a man free."

Chew on that one.

another revelation. seems like I should have learned this a while ago...

2009-03-30T23:17:00.005-04:00

Though my spring break had little "break" in it, I've changed my thinking a lot in the last week. And actually, it had little or nothing to do with the fact that I was in Nicaragua on a business-as-missions trip.

The thing that proved to be most compelling throughout the week is that I am OVER-COMMITTED. And I take no pride in that fact. Truly, the more I think about it, the more I feel humbled by my own arrogance and irresponsibility in taking on so much.

No one sees any of this. They all see the "involved," "competent," "responsible," and "efficient" Elena. I don't know how I manage to keep that cover, but underneath -- my friends, I've been drowning this past month. I've been entirely overwhelmed by the multitude of things I'm committed to doing. And to add insult to injury, whenever I tell people what I'm busy with, instead of feeling proud of myself I only feel ashamed of how arrogant I sound. "Oh, I have a meeting, then an interview, then another meeting, then an article to write, then I'm applying for this-and-such position..." WHO'S REALLY IMPRESSED???

No one. And certainly not God. Isn't that the purpose in the end--glorifying the one who deserves it?

Of course, I can rationalize all of these tasks and obligations--and I do. I do SO well. "This will help me develop skills in leadership and management! I can glorify God through that." "This will develop my skills in communication and writing! That will glorify God, too."

But what really glorifies God? REALLY.
Ultimately, it's simple. There's no task, no duty, no obligation, no responsibility, no skill, no activity that will help me glorify God. The thing that glorifies Him most is BEING. That's what he created me for, that is my vocation and my calling. "Not to undermine the consequence, but you are not what you do." If whatever I do enhances my BEING, my life, my truest, simplest, most authentic and honest state, then it is worthwhile. That is my criteria from now on.

Prove Me Wrong

2009-03-18T00:29:00.007-04:00

I was wondering the other day how sometimes the time just seems to slip away... I go into the library with the best of intentions (which "never set a man free," i.e. they're not significant without action) and end up leaving an hour later with 7 books awkwardly exploding out of my arms and not having accomplished anything. Dang library system. They put bunches of related books into the same section so you just glance at one and then the next...of COURSE it's going to be way tempting. I'm obsessed with books. And more books. One of the greatest joys in my life are my BOOKS.

If only I could learn on my own time. I think I'd actually get a lot more learning done, really. Give me Tocqueville, Charles Taylor, Adam Smith, Thomas Sowell, Dinesh D'Souza, and C.S. Lewis and I'll be busy and happy for years. (Though I do confess, I fear that I would one day end up like my econ prof who lives alone in a house full of books. While I admire him for earning six degrees in everything from math to theology, t's certainly not my ideal...more like my greatest fear.)

So anyway, I have like, 30 library books in my room right now. No, I have no shelf space for them so yes, they are scattered on the floor and on my desk. However, I will tell you that I have skimmed probably half of them. ... No, no, that's a good thing. Usually they pile up and I never get a chance to open a single one of them.

Where am I going with all of this? I don't know. Books are addictive and that's it. If only I could stop time while I read.

The title of this installment refers to why I read, I guess. Learning/knowledge is my telos; I learn everything from books and they dispel my false ideas and reinforce the true ones.

At the same time though, the title could refer to my tendency to rationalize my bringing so many books back to my room. Maybe give me a good argument for leaving them in the library and save me from myself next time.

BLLAAAHHH.
It's late.

I HATE the game "Mafia"

2009-03-07T00:14:00.004-05:00

It's by far the most tedious and non-stimulating game ever invented by bored people at a party.

Even so, I had a blast tonight at Spiegel's house. We played ONE round. ONE round of Mafia. It lasted THREE hours. ONE round of that game, THREE hours of my life. And it would have been so dull if it wasn't for a couple of simply excellent people there, specifically Christian Leman and Kyle Holloway. Granted, Kyle was murdered early on in the game, but even so.

Fortunately, when I'm tempted to wallow in misery for whatever reason (or pretty obvious reasons) God reminds me that my happiness does not depend on one person or one circumstance. The amazing friends I have even beat sunshine for reminding me how much God loves me.

I'm too exhausted to write anything profound. Maybe that will come tomorrow. Right now I'm just stoked that I got to hang out with some great people for the evening. Yes--truly great people.

Resolute

2009-03-01T09:54:00.004-05:00

Determination is only weakened by waiting and my patience is already thin.

The best things in life don't just happen to you. You have to seek them out.

Treatise Revisited

2009-02-27T16:31:00.013-05:00

Woah, woah, woah, kids. I think I've almost come to half of a conclusion to part of my treatise question.

I asked a great friend whether he was a complementarian or an egalitarian. His perfect answer: "both."

I've been mulling this over and looking at it from a hundred different ways in my mind and I've almost come to a conclusion for myself. Last time I wrote on this (some five months ago), I didn't really have a conclusion because my head and my heart had different inclinations. Head said there's no reason why I should defer to a man considering my own intellect and generally rational approach to issues. Heart said yeah, but I want a man to step up and take responsibility and be a leader. My problem was reconciliation of these two organs and I think I've done it.

I think the feminism movement has had a bad effect on men. For everything it has done to promote women and equality of the sexes, it seems that many of the men who give way for this not only let women step up, but do in fact themselves step down. Put a different way, they seem to think that there's no room for both men and women to be simultaneously in first place.

Obviously there are some who aren't so passive (e.g. the friend who got me thinking about this). But I think that, with my general faith in women, I am confident that women can rise to the top without help, without any kind of affirmative action or bias in their favor. Men don't need to give up leadership in order for women to claim it as well. I have no worry for women because I'm dead confident that hell yes, I'll be a strong, influential leader. No problem there. What my heart was wanting is for men to be men. Be leaders, be strong, be influential. Rest assured, I will be too. In fact, you'll have to step it up to compete with what I have to offer. But you sure as hell better step it up. If you don't, it's almost just as disrespectful as discrimination against women.

Yes, I'm a libertarian. It all comes down to liberty in the end. Unfortunately, feminism has become to equality what a tariff is to free trade; it demands preference for one sex over the other rather than judging a person based on their individual qualities.

The question is this: if girls would be women, would boys be men?

I've never struggled with the concept of equality in a marriage. If both husband and wife are single-minded, rational, loving individuals, who does it matter who's "right"? They'll work it out in the end. What my heart was not wanting was for the man to be the weak one, deferring or abdicating any leadership responsibilities to, well, me. Not that I'm incapable. However, I would see him as not living up to his full potential and would therefore have less respect for him. And respect is pretty close to being #1 on my list of required emotions in a relationship (yes, rationalism and emotions meet!)

So my perspective is thus: I know what I'm capable of. And if we're in this together, I don't want some gimpy guy dragging me down. So you just better be prepared to match my effort, heck, maybe even make up for some of my weaknesses. Complement me. We'll complement each other.

That, my friends, is egalitarian complementarianism. And that is where this part of the treatise concludes.

Looking Ahead...

2009-02-23T13:43:00.000-05:00

The Economist says our man Bobby Jindal is already a contender, supposedly. I honestly can't believe he's only been in office for a year; he's done so much good for the severely depressed state of Louisiana already. He's had some misses too, but we'll see where he goes for the next three years. Anyway, I'm glad he's around for now.

Keep an ear out for Jindal's response to Obama's congressional address tomorrow night.

Stimulus vs. Spending and all the other things they want you to think

2009-02-21T21:41:00.000-05:00

In Commentary Magazine, John Podhoretz wrote about the stimulus plan and all the ways that Obama and the non-economists on Capitol Hill think that almost $800 billion will improve our economy.

Towards the end of the article he points out that the concept of government spending in order to help the economy is so shallow, seeking to fix the symptoms rather than the disease. But isn't that what politicians seek to do?? They want results and not only that, but results that are clear and obvious in time for the next election year. This isn't cynical--it's reality.

But as Dr. Mitchell was saying in macroeconomics yesterday, the business cycle of recession/trough/expansion/peak is a fluctuating cycle that lasts some ten years. Pelosi said, "I don't think we can move fast enough." Well, Nance, unless you can change time itself, get over it. Big (and natural) processes take time and time doesn't accept bribes--even to the tune of 3/4 of a trillion dollars.

Re: Addiction

2009-02-19T23:45:00.000-05:00

How did Obama convince anyone to imagine that huge, monstrous spending could possibly be responsible??

James Capretta of NRO on the stimulus bill:

The contention that these programs, once started or expanded, will revert back to their previous levels of activity, or even disappear altogether when circumstances warrant, runs counter to all experience and common sense. Program enrollees, local school boards, health researchers, university administrators, IT firms, transportation-construction companies, and countless new government contractors and employees will soon be ready to argue that disaster awaits any attempt to return government to its pre-stimulus size.

(full article)

The stats in that article are astounding. Read it.

overcommitment = arrogance, cowardice, and exhaustion

2009-02-19T11:32:00.006-05:00

When people ask what I'm involved in, I am always hesitant to rattle off the list.

Besides five classes, I have:

- spring break missions trip (now SIFE, too)
- IFC
- station manager for the media department
- Echo
- teaching assistant
- Randomly Famous (start-up business venture)
- small group leader
- Ethics Bowl competition
- applying for internships...

To be honest, the hours that I should put into all of these would maybe overflow the actual week, and at least knock virtually all sleep out of the equation.

But oh, I'm not proud of this list. At the moment, I'm thoroughly embarrassed by it. Are you kidding me?? Perhaps it's impressive and maybe I'm even being somewhat effective in all of these positions. But this campus is filled with students who can't say no, who are all supposedly suited to leadership roles, and who are too caught up in what could be to appreciate what's happening now. I'm just another one of those. And no one sees past my "dedication" and "enthusiasm" and "intelligence" and "discipline" to see what's really happening--

I'm too arrogant -- I think that the other people involved in each of these are too dependent on me and would be devastated if I quit.
I'm too cowardly -- I couldn't stand the embarrassment of actually admitting that I'm over-committed and perhaps didn't anticipate what I've got myself into.
I'm dead tired -- sleep for the last three nights has been 5 hours, 3 hours, 5 hours, and I'm probably looking at 4 hours tonight.

I suppose I do enjoy all of these things, for the most part. I can't pick any one item that I would want to give up right now. And some true satisfaction came last weekend when I was putting together my resume. Yeah, baby--show it off to the people who care.

But really, I eagerly look forward to the day when I can pour myself into a single project or plan or goal. Then I'll have free time. In my free time, I will love people. And that will be my life.

*oh, one good thing is that my attitude never gets down. Yeah, I'm being introspective right now and I'd rather be sleeping, most definitely; but the women on my wing all notice that I have joy and laughter even in my stress. The frustration radiates through my back and neck and shoulders, but fortunately doesn't affect my smile. Nice.