moves and removes

It's the painful part of His faithfulness.

2012-02-22T22:43:00.004-05:00

The more I resist the lessons that God is trying to teach me,
the harder He lays them against me.

It's the painful part of His faithfulness.

5 Things I've Learned About Depression

2012-02-07T21:46:00.006-05:00

DEPRESSION. I've been there, and you probably have too. Here are 5 things I've learned about it.

1. It's kinda complex.

There are degrees of depression: There's feeling blue and then there's suicidal despair. It all falls under the gloomy heading of SAD, though. Clinical depression is the label that professionals use to diagnose a syndrome with a specific set of symptoms (that you can read about here)--it's how they distinguish ordinary mood changes from an illness that is interrupting life.
There's a lot of stuff that can cause it and contribute to it. Yeah, being dumped could certainly be a culprit, but so could unresolved anxiety, diet and sleep patterns, bipolar disorder, life changes, loss, chemical imbalances, physical trauma, stress, negative self-talk... You get the picture.

2. It doesn't make you weird.
It might surprise you, but there are probably 19 million people all around you suffering from major depression. No, I didn't make that number up and it's not an exaggeration. And of the other millions of people who don't have depression right now, many of them have in the past or might in the future. Major depression is a mood disorder, and experiencing it doesn't make you weird; it just indicates that you're human. So if you have symptoms that are interrupting your life, go ahead and get some help, because it's your life and now is absolutely the time to live it.

3. Faith can be a help, but it might not be the cure.
Experiencing depression as a believer in Jesus is better in my opinion than experiencing depression without Jesus, because when you're unexplainably sad, having an intimate and gracious Friend is a wonderful comfort and a source of strength. But even the greatest Friend doesn't guarantee permanent bliss and emotional invincibility. I know that sometimes religious people talk about faith and salvation and the Holy Spirit as if they were bullet-proof armor against unhappiness, but that's silly. The most sacred of all books records the depression of the saintliest of all people: Hannah, Elijah, Peter, and yeah, Jesus.

So although moping around and feeling sorry for yourself isn't a virtue, feeling sad isn't a sin. If you're experiencing depression, don't make the fact that you're depressed another reason to be depressed. (That probably didn't make any sense.)

4. Some things don't make it better.
From personal experience, I present to you the not-at-all-definitive list of things that probably won't help you get un-depressed:

beating yourself up about it ("You stupid loser, stop being depressed" has never been proven to cure anyone)
isolating yourself from the people that care.
dropping stuff that used to make you happy, usually in favor of more tv/food/internet/video games/whatever
binges. of any kind. Cuz you just feel crappier later.
alcohol. This isn't from personal experience, but I thought I'd throw it in here because so many people like to drink when they're sad. But alcohol is physiological downer, so it only makes your body more sad which makes it harder for your mind to get happy. Las drogas son malas, tambien.

5. But some things do.
Maybe one of the sneakiest things about depression is that it usually sucks away all desire to. do. anything. So when you're depressed it's pretty challenging to muster up the energy and drive even to write down a list of "Things I Should Do (but probably won't because hey! I'm depressed and I'll probably live the rest of my life wearing sweatpants in the living room watching tv)." Therefore, to simplify the list-making process for you, I present another not-at-all-definitive guide of things that probably will make you feel better.

Talk to someone about it. It's so twentieth century to suffer in silence thinking that depression is something to be ashamed about. You don't mind telling somebody that you have a sore in your mouth from eating too much pineapple, so why be shy about this? I know, I know: you think your depression is a sign that you're weak or unspiritual or silly, but it's not. It's real and it's normal and it's affecting you. And even though you're prone not to believe me, Mr. Depressed Guy, you matter. So talk to

Your mom
A friend
Your favorite cousin
Your roomate
A professional counselor. Stop thinking it's weird. It's fine. If you want to find a professional near you, great places to start are your doctor's office, a list from your insurance company, and the counseling office of a nearby university.

Do things that you used to enjoy. Think back to that time when you really derived pleasure from things. Now... what were those things? Go do one. Seriously. You don't have to enjoy your 30 minutes of knitting, just make yourself do it. Let the enjoyment come when it's ready, but open the door for it :)
Set modest goals for yourself and then feel awesome when you achieve them. For me that meant accomplishing 6 things every day, including "breakfast" and "getting dressed." Baby steps, people!
Move. ---Not your address, but your body. It really can lift your mood, so take even a short walk outside. I'm not kidding when I say that some days that meant making myself walk to the mailbox. But it counts! It totally counts.

So, my friend, I leave you with this word of hope: You don't have to feel this way forever. There is help.

More Than Blue: key signs of serious depression

2012-02-07T21:46:00.002-05:00

Key Signs of Depression, aka Things That Have Changed And Make You Want Your Old Self Back

1. Depressed mood. Feeling sad, lost, hopeless, irritable, or empty. These feelings stay around and happen almost all day or every day.

2. Loss of interest or pleasure in usual activities. The fancy word for this is ahedonia, and it means that what used to be fun isn't anymore: the absence of normal pleasure and a loss of interest in what was previously enjoyed.

3. Change in appetite. Some people lose interest in food, some people lose interest in everything except food. It may show up as a weight loss or a weight gain.

4. Change in sleep pattern. This could mean sleeping more, or suffering from insomnia (either the kind that keeps you awake at night or the kind that wakes you up too early in the morning).

5. Change in movement. This could mean being more agitated than usual, or slowing down: moving more slowly and talking more slowly.

6. Fatigue. Just generally feeling too tired and drained, the kind of fatigue that you can't quite explain.

7. Feelings of worthlessness, self-reproach, or guilt. It's not just feeling bad about yourself, but feeling excessively and inappropriately bad. The feelings of guilt or worthlessness are out of proportion, maybe even making you feel unforgivable or unloveable or abandoned by God.

8. Change in thinking and concentration. Focusing might be harder than normal and decisions might be more difficult to make just in general.

9. Suicidal thoughts and acts. Thinking a lot about death, wishing to be dead, thinking about committing suicide, even making a plan to commit suicide or attempting it. NOTE: if this describes you, stop reading my blog and go call someone right now and tell them about how you're feeling. It's important. And if you don't know anyone you feel safe talking to, call this number: 1-800-273-8255.

If some of these symptoms are describing you, you may not just be going through a sad time in life: you may be clinically depressed. This kind of depression interferes with everyday life and lasts a long time, at least a few weeks---and it's a really good reason to call your doctor or talk with a community counselor. And, in case it helps, here's some more info and here are some things I've learned about depression.

Let Them Eat Kale!

2012-02-07T04:33:00.004-05:00

Kale is the superstar of healthy food right now. Everything that is even a little bit good for you seems to be in kale: it's high in iron and calcium, fiber and antioxidants, omega fatty acids and hip factor. What's not to like?

For some people the answer to that question is, "The mystery. . . . and maybe the flavor a little bit too." There are those that find kale a little bitter, so they shy away from it. Most people, though, avoid kale at the grocery store mostly because they don't know what to do with it. "So, I just munch it off the stem as I watch tv? Or what?"

When I was a kid, I told my babysitter that I was allergic to spinach. That was a lie mostly, except for the fact that cooked spinach really does make me gag. If I make it go down my throat, it doesn't stay long. As with spinach, so with all greens. Therefore, while I like the self-righteous feeling of eating a lot of healthy greens, I'm also kinda picky about how I eat them.

So maybe if you're looking for a place to start with the wonder food we call kale, you'll also like these, my favorite kale recipes. Click on the pictures for links to the recipes.

Sesame, Kale, and Tofu Salad >>

This is a mildly flavored powerhouse of nutrition right here. No cooking required, either: just assembling! (My favorite kind of "cooking!")

Super Garlicky Kale >>

I recommend toasting almonds for this recipe (just toss raw almonds on a hot, dry skillet for a few minutes) and if you can take it, don't skip the red pepper.

Kale Chips >>

Works well with variations, as well, such as parmesan or cayenne. And even people who say they don't like this vegetable love kale chips. Try 'em!

I couldn't find a recipe for my personal favorite >>

A bunch of kale torn into bite-sized pieces
An avocado or two, diced
A few big tomatoes, diced
A couple tablespoons of olive oil
A tablespoon or so of lemon juice
a teaspoon each of salt and cayenne

Then massage and mush all the ingredients together until the kale softens a bit.

"pleasure is a thing that also needs accomplishing"

2012-01-13T11:46:00.000-05:00

"The Word" by Tony Hoagland

Down near the bottom
 of the crossed-out list
 of things you have to do today,

 between "green thread"
 and "broccoli" you find
 that you have penciled "sunlight."

 Resting on the page, the word
 is as beautiful, it touches you
 as if you had a friend

 and sunlight were a present
 he had sent you from some place distant
 as this morning -- to cheer you up,

 and to remind you that,
 among your duties, pleasure
 is a thing,

 that also needs accomplishing
 Do you remember?
 that time and light are kinds

 of love, and love
 is no less practical
 than a coffee grinder

 or a safe spare tire?
 Tomorrow you may be utterly
 without a clue

 but today you get a telegram,
 from the heart in exile
 proclaiming that the kingdom

 still exists,
 the king and queen alive,
 still speaking to their children,

 - to any one among them
 who can find the time,

to sit out in the sun and listen.

bodying

2012-01-03T17:04:00.000-05:00

I am a perfect replica of my mother's body, but in petite proportion. The long neck, the long torso, the long arms, the small chest and flat stomach, the tiny waist-- and then all of this sloping outward into broad hips, sturdy legs, dense calves, and strong and flexible ankles into able feet.

hello, Sun!

My face? I owe that to my Norwegian grandmother. But my body is all my mother.

I'm so glad she gave it to me! I regularly put up with rude comments about my size and it's impossible to find clothes that fit me off the rack, but my favorite part of my body is that it works! and it's mine! When as a young woman I looked around and realized that "woman" came in very different shapes, that somehow revealed to me that mine was its own type of beautiful. I'll never walk a runway, but I have a wonderful, laughing time chasing wildlife in my backyard and racing my husband to the grocery cart and playing in the snow.

paulaleme.com

>> So you there! --yeah, you:
Today, don't judge your body.
Just enjoy it!

lost

2012-01-02T00:34:00.001-05:00

So much of life falls through the cracks of our language—- lost because we don’t have the words and if we do, we realize that the words are not enough.

as Sara Groves said

2011-11-30T16:53:00.006-05:00

listen here

hello, Lord:

it's me, your child. I
have a few things
on my mind.
right now I'm faced
with big decisions
and I'm wondering
if you have a minute

cuz
right now I don't hear so well
and I was wondering if you
could speak up.
I know that you tore the veil
so I could sit with you in person
and hear what you're saying,
but right now
I just can't hear you.

I don't doubt
your sovereignty;
I doubt my own ability
to hear what you're saying
and to do the right thing,
and I desperately want to
do the right thing,

but

right now I don't hear so well

and I was wondering if you

could speak up.

I know that you tore the veil

so I could sit with you in person

and hear what you're saying,

but right now

I just can't hear you.

and somewhere

in the back of my mind

I think you are telling me to wait,

and though patience

has never been mine,

Lord, I will wait to hear from you.

Lord, I'm waiting on you...

right now I don't hear so well

and I was wondering if you

could speak up.

I know that you tore the veil

so I could sit with you in person

and hear what you're saying,

but right now

I think you're whispering.

WIZGUMP

2011-09-25T19:49:00.001-04:00

I'm hoping for some WIZGUMP: wisdom + gumption.

Yes, and I want WIZGUMP because I need to prioritize my health. I need to eat regularly and sleep enough. I need to make time for prayer.

I need the wisdom to know what needs to change, and

I need the gumption to actually change it.

I can't keep working 7 days a week for too many hours. I can't keep waking up every morning and knowing that I'm already 3 hours behind. I can't keep putting off the life I want to live: I want to make art, build friendships, enjoy my marriage, learn German, cook, and chew slowly.

I want to wake up to enjoy the day that stretches out before me. I want to enjoy my life-- it's all I've got.

Broken Hearts and Invitations

2011-08-11T20:46:00.002-04:00

My long-time friend Trisha has a couple boys, and last week they came out of Sabbath School and said, "So Mommy, if Jesus lives in our hearts, then if your heart breaks, Jesus will fall out, right?"

But you know what I keep finding? Often it's not till my heart is broken that I'll even let Him in.

-----------------------------

II.

LOVE.

I.

CONSECRATION.

Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.

:: emily dickinson

Long Legs and Walking with Confidence

2011-08-10T02:22:00.003-04:00

Once, when I was nine, I stood in the hallway and admired myself in the mirror. I turned my body left and right, I looked up and down. Announcing my conclusions, I raised my voice a little and said to my mother, "Do you see how long my legs are getting?"

"Honey," she said, "your legs are the same length as everyone else's: they reach from your butt to the ground."

-----------------------------

There is a Far Side comic that shows a boy, book under arm, pushing hard to open the door to his gifted school. The door says, "Pull."

My mom found this comic printed on a mug and gave it to me as a gift, since (according to the state of California and the name of my school), I was her "gifted child." She usually liked to remind me of this when I did something that demonstrated a lack of common sense. "That's my gifted child!" she would say, smiling.

-----------------------------

Several months ago my mother and I were laughing on the phone as we remembered that nine-year-old me admiring herself for her long legs. The irony that I aged to be the shortest in my family was not lost on us. We cackled at the memory, and floated from it to others where she had put me in my place with some well-timed quip. I realized that this sort of thing had happened not once or twice, but many times. I brought it up to her, not from hurt feelings but out of curiosity. She said, "I felt that it was part of my mission as your mother to humble you. You always had more than enough self-confidence."

I always had more than enough self-confidence. Though that would need to be amended slightly to be exactly accurate (e.g., "...as long as it did not involve meeting other children or playing basketball"), it is basically true. I always have had at least enough self-confidence, especially in the classroom. Some people were made for assignments and standardized tests. I am one of those people. I was the child who felt it cruelly unfair that the state tests did not award me a 100th percentile ranking even though I had answered every question correctly, and my mother's explanations that they didn't give anyone that ranking was only a small consolation. I saw a list of "99"s as a list of imperfections. No reason for snobbery at all.

85, 95, 99% ?! Woe is me!

I always expected to be the top of my class. And when I was at the top of my class I didn't feel any special sort of pride; I rather it took for granted, as ordinary reality. I felt no more pride at being the top student than I did in being a resident of the state of California. It's just where I was. As I advanced in my education, being the best became harder until it became being among the best, such as in college. By the time I got to my masters degree, I had matured enough that being the best, or among the best, didn't come to mind. (Though keeping that spotless 4.0 was still a priority.) Still, there was never any question about if I could successfully complete an M.Div. degree. Of course I could. Of course I would. Of course!

I always had more than enough self-confidence.

------------------------------

Doing doctoral studies is the sort of thing that when people find out you're doing it they are somehow compelled by social or natural forces to utter some words of awe. The raised eyebrows, perhaps a whistle or the slow nodding, words like "Wow!" or "I could never do something like that," or "They don't just give those things away." Almost without fail, people react by acting impressed. This makes me quite uncomfortable, very eager to downplay the entire enterprise or to ridicule myself. "Don't be too impressed yet," I warn, "I haven't got the degree yet!" Or, as if I were jabbing them jocularly in the ribs, I say, "Well, what can I say? I'm just a nerd. We'll see how it goes."

Except that all my hemming and hawing is not mere empty social posturing (which I dislike very much). It does, rather, betray that I actually do not have self-confidence on this point. I have self-doubt. I seriously doubt if I can successfully complete a PhD. Maybe I'm too naive, or too ignorant, or too dull, or too lazy, or too busy, or too faithless. I'm probably "too" something, and I probably don't have what it takes to finish. Resigning from my job and enrolling in this pricey degree may have been an expensive and career-fatal move, perhaps one of the dumbest life decisions I've made.

But perhaps not. Likely it is a Fatherly invitation, part of God's mission to humble me. Probably it is God's schoolroom for me wherein I might learn humility and faithfulness, to trust Him whatever, neverminding the settled sense of unease. I am, after all, His "gifted child." ;)

So I go forward, resolving to no longer waver uncertainly in my speech about this doctoral degree, receiving the fear as an invitation to trust and obey, ignoring the self-centered folly which counsels me to give up, and walking confidently under the direction of His dreams within me. Walking--despite these short legs!

near Lake Superior in July past

2011-07-11T22:12:00.000-04:00

The thunder was the test of You,
dropping from heaven in heavy bursts.
Ravenous lightning licking up the sky
was the test of You and me
and if I could find peace in a
Man who stood up to storms and
shushed the savage wind.

I'd paid $400 for this nylon wrapper
that lit up like a candle flame
with each electric bolt from above.
My scattered belongings
and my weak soul were illuminated
and tired from wrestling
the elements inside and out.

Was it four hours I spent walking the beach
in the half-dark, the cold quiet
of midnightness? Time had passed slowly,
choked down to a gasp by the panic
in my bowels. I heard an urgent message
that all was not well--- there was doom
behind the midnight silence!

But You convinced me to lie down,
to lie down and take it, to lie down and
hear the urgent message slip away into the
sand of Lake Superior. I lied down in that
false candlelit cave and the panic in my gut
ran down from hysterical skies as wind,
as rain, as thunder, as lightning.

To choose and live with courage

2011-05-17T02:18:00.002-04:00

I've had occasion to reconsider my decision to leave my pastoral position in Oregon and remain in Michigan for PhD studies. Often I've wondered if I've made the wrong decision. If I had remained in the original path and gone back to Oregon...

...I would be in Oregon right now. Back home at last!
...I would be moving into a bigger house, not into my in-laws' basement.
...I would be buying that new couch I've wanted for the last 6 years.
...I would finally be pastoring in a local church-- legitimized as a pastor.

I try to push thoughts like that away, reasoning that I've already decided: pastoring in Oregon is not my reality right now, and the Land of What Ifs is not a very magical place to live.

But what gives me the most courage lately to embrace this new (financially challenging and professionally uncertain) reality is knowing that courage is needed. I made a difficult decision, but I made one and now it's mine. And I can be proud of the fact that in just about every way this is the more difficult path. There is a reason that the road less travelled has less foot traffic: it's harder to walk there.

Somehow this encourages me, somehow it calls upon the courageous part of me to stand up and to remain standing with resolve. I want to spend my life on hard things; I want to be heroic.

There are much greater heroes in the world than I will ever be, and giving up security to get a doctorate is not among the most self-sacrificing or dangerous acts of history. But it takes a long courage and I believe that doing a brave thing is commendable, and that it is in every way superior to doing no thing. Therefore to make a courageous decision is in every way superior to making no decision. In the end, I may not succeed in this small endeavor of mine, but if I choose and act courageously have I not triumphed in the world?

She looks brave to me.

So. I have some news.

2011-04-27T09:45:00.003-04:00

No. I'm not pregnant.

Important things happen that don't involve babies, you know ;)

>> I have resigned from my position as a pastor with the Oregon Conference in order to pursue doctoral studies at the theological seminary at Andrews University. Yes, my knowledge addiction has taken me this far.

Seek Knowledge. Affirm Faith. Change the World.

FAQs:

Q. What are you doing your PhD in?

A. Religion (Theological Studies)

Q. When do you start?
A. August 2012.

Q. Why are you waiting a year?
A. Because right now my brain is tired from three full-time years of MDiv coursework, and I'd like to start the PhD excited rather than exhausted. Also, taking a year off of formal coursework will allow me to narrow down my interests, to study for (and pass!) the prerequisite German and French exams, to save a pocketful of change, and to read a bunch of books that have nothing to do with theology but will nourish my creativity.

Q. How long will it take to do a PhD?
A. If I was really fast, 3 years. If I'm really slow, 10 years.

The entrance to Andrews University. Come visit sometime.

Q. What are you going to do once you've finished the PhD?
A. Start paying back my loans.

Q. No, seriously. Are you going to be a professor? I thought you were a pastor.
A. People who have 10-year plans use a lot of erasers because you know what? Life changes. People change. Loves change. Doors turn into walls and walls into doors. The horizon expands and contracts and sometimes you're in the fog and sometimes on the bluff. So I don't know what I'm going to do when I'm done with this degree. I would love to be able to return to full-time ministry and I think the local church context is a really important and really fun place to do ministry. But classroom ministry might be cool too. And I shed more than a few tears saying goodbye to my campus chaplaincy job. Let's revisit this question in 10 years and we'll see what the Lord has done with me.

Q. Are you crazy?!
A. Yes, a little. This is clearly the crazier path financially because I just let go of a real job with a real salary and real benefits in order to get an expensive degree which will provide no salary-raising qualifications in the end. // And it's crazy, too, because I don't really know if I can do this PhD thing. Supposedly it's really hard. And the only way to find out if I can do it is by trying. So, here we go!

headed into the risky future of the unknown road. here we go!

the test of the commandment

2011-04-23T01:18:00.000-04:00

The Sabbath is doing its appointed work in me today. As the sun sank past the corn fields I was restless and exhausted, sleepy but stressed. I have several assignments left to do in an impossibly short time period, and discouragement settled heavy as I discovered that I had lost all the notes I had made for writing a book critique due Sunday. Joshua was gone and I laid alone in the dark, unable to sleep and unable to rest in the Savior because every impulse in my body was saying

go! do it! work! pick it up! type it out! write it down! labor! accomplish!

but the commandment of God says

rest. stop. slow. quiet. remember Me. reclaim holiness.

at which point I must decide if I will

trust, and
obey

which, as it turns out, is the exact same thing more often than not.

And in obeying the Lord's command to rest, I am forced to redefine what "okay" means. If I obey the Lord and the work doesn't get done, will I be okay? If I obey the Lord and my grade suffers and I disappoint people, will I be okay? Obeying the Lord for these 24 hours means letting go of my pride and self-sufficiency and illusions and recognizing that the world spins on regardless of my grades and that, in fact, I am still a whole person under His care.

And so in the Sabbath, God cures my anxious hurry by commanding me to stop. And in the quiet created by the recess of my labors He is able to remind me that the solution to my problem is not more productivity, but more Him.

Isolation versus Intimacy: thoughts on porn and liberation.

2011-04-01T02:02:00.009-04:00

"Truth is, p0rn liberated men much the same way The Pill liberated women. Men are no longer obligated to lifetime economic contracts merely to tend to unavoidable bodily functions. Men are free to pursue their dreams, untroubled by any mental torments of s3xual starvation, even in the most-isolated female-free environments. Being compelled to think about s3x constantly is a torture (as anyone who’s lived with man-sized testosterone levels can tell you), but p0rn liberates men from that, and we will Never Look Back!"

So says "Pat," commenting on a blog post about a marriage strained by the husband's use of pornography. It's a rather provocative statement. And in fact, it says quite a lot about the mindset of pornography use and highlights that at its core pornography operates out of isolation and opposes intimacy.

From Pat's perspective, male sexuality is a combination of "mental torture" and "unavoidable bodily functions." It has no interpersonal function; it is completely void of intimacy.

It makes sense then that marriage has no place in Pat's world. For Pat, marriage is a "lifetime economic contract" that some men would put up with for sex, but really, it's just a barrier for men pursuing their dreams. Intimacy is an obstacle to the highest form of living.

And women? Women are useful, probably more pleasing than pornography, but their inaccessibility is a serious impediment to their usefulness. Being able to orgasm without a woman by using pornography liberates men from needing women as accessories for releasing their sexual desires.

By rejecting interpersonal connection, commitment, and women-as-partners, Pat and other pornography users are rejecting intimacy. I know a long list of people who view religious sexual mores as oppressive restrictions which suffocate sexuality and personal freedom. But the godly sex life in the Bible is a good sex life. >>

It takes place within a marriage commitment so it can be safe physically and emotionally. That commitment is an exclusive covenant between two people because marriage was designed to be the pinnacle of intimacy. The Bible says marriage makes two people "one flesh" because that's how closely their lives and their psyches were meant to be intertwined.

That exclusive, lifetime commitment is in place because it creates a safe environment for deep interpersonal connection. In this setting, intercourse is not undertaken just to take care of "unavoidable bodily functions," but to give and receive from one's very personhood in vulnerability and service.

In biblical sexuality, women are not creatures of use, but as sexual partners they are partners in life and in pleasure. "May you rejoice in the wife of your youth... may her breasts satisfy you always, may you ever be captivated by her love." [see prov5.15-23] And men are not uncontrollable sex machines who really can't be held accountable for their bodies or their behavior. No, according to the Bible men were created with dignity and they possess moral responsibility and an incredible capacity to shape the world for good through the exercise of righteousness in their homes--- including their bedrooms.

I hope one day Pat will choose intimacy over isolation. Because it's a shame to lose your best sex life for a convenient sex life.

What to Wear When Riding a Stuffed Giraffe: Suit Jacket or No?

2011-03-19T02:57:00.004-04:00

Confession time: I'm afraid to become a professional pastor.

Not that I'm afraid of full-time ministry.
Not that I'm afraid of getting paid for it.
Not that I'm afraid to devote my life to it.

Just that I'm afraid of becoming a professional, an image, a brand.

I don't want to drive a car that says "PASTOR" on the license plate. And I don't want my email address to be PastorKessiaReyne@knee-mail.net. And I don't want to be a ministry idea machine with a weekly newsletter. And I don't want my blogs to become a series of polished press releases. And I don't want to become an Adventist celebrity. I don't want to be anything else except

a person
following Jesus
in the world.

I've come to realize that my discipling (formal and informal pastoring) has its source in my experience with Jesus.
>>My experience with Jesus means that I'm not enough and never will be. Without Him, I'm a cistern, a broken cistern, and I have no water for the spiritually thirsty. But also
>>My experience with Jesus means that my discipling comes through my personality, it is informed by my life, it is made up of the data of my senses, it is woven into my character, it comes out in my language.

So when I counsel and pray and explain and defend and preach and confront and write and persuade and question: it's me doing it, not some Internet personality with a suit jacket on. Ask me about theodicy and I'll tell you a story. Offer me the pulpit and I'll preach to each person as intimately as possible. Give me your hurts and I'll be silent for a long time; like, an awkward amount of time. Invite me to dinner and I'll come with eyeliner on (not bells, for the record). Because that, my homies, is how I roll.

*[I think this has to do with my fear of losing my identity in other people's expectations. Jeans at church. Eyeshadow. Feminist poetry. Post-hardcore praise. (Is that what makes me, me?) (What does it mean to be authentic?)]

** [It probably doesn't sound like it, but the intention of this post is not to judge "professional" ministers. These musings are just the outgrowth of my own reflection on how and why my personal style of ministry looks different from many other people's style. God uses those "professional" pastors in ways that are powerful and that, honestly, I don't even aspire to.]

Somewhere Between Two Steps

2011-03-03T07:54:00.000-05:00

It was somewhere between

the time that his left foot pushed off the lower step

and his right foot landed on the next step

that she came around the corner

and she caught sight of him.

It was raining

and they were both running.

He was running up the stairs toward shelter

and she was running after him.

They had been chasing each other

for the last five months—

he walking her home,

she buying him a favorite book,

she holding the look an extra moment,

he holding an embrace a little too long,

and both of them afraid of all this.

She was still to marry another man in March

and when she saw this man in mid-air between two stairs

she suddenly saw herself as she had been

these five months: running for shelter.

And she saw herself as she was now:

somewhere between two steps.

And before he returned to earth,

his right foot hitting the concrete,

she had stopped running to watch him leave her.

When he was out of sight, she turned and ran for home.

Counting my shirts

2011-02-28T01:17:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago I re-read the Gospels. Obviously there is a lot of richness in those four books on Jesus' life, but what forcefully struck me was just one passage:

"John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, 'You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, "We have Abraham as our father." For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.'

'What should we do then?' the crowd asked.

John answered, 'Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.'” [luke3.7-11]

How many shirts do I have? Well, I haven't counted, but it's more than two. And how many jackets and coats do I have? More than two. That means I have enough to spare.

I finally heard what the Bible had been saying all this time, what John had been preaching for two millennia--- and Jesus convicted me to radically change the way that I spend money on clothing.

(Now that I'm willing to simply hear Jesus speak this message, I hope I'm enabled to better receive the Jesus of the Message.)

Click again?

2011-02-23T08:37:00.000-05:00

well, Tumblr is better for a few things.
Posting audio files is one of those things.
So if you're feeling click-adventurous and interested, then

check out my musings on Tim Gillespie's "Jesus and the Church."

love and power and continents

2011-02-23T08:09:00.000-05:00

Emily's post on Waving Flag made me think thoughts.

"love is the answer, that's what they say, but look how they treat us, make us believers, we fight their battles, then they deceive us, try to control us..."

what misguided love we give sometimes, what false love we give sometimes.

I read a book about a year ago with the very boring title "The Family." The title is boring and the book kind of was too, but the authors are Christian social scientists and the paradigm they outlined of the family-under-grace was one of empowerment. They said that people struggling in their families are often struggling for power, as if when I have more you have less and if you have more then I have less. No, no: Instead, they said, the family-under-grace knows that when someone with power gives power to another member, both are more empowered.

I wish all the continents and islands could come together as one family-under-grace, giving power and real love to each other.

And even as I voice that wish, it occurs to me that that's exactly what Jesus has promised will happen when He comes back:

"My righteousness draws near speedily,
   My salvation is on the way,
   and My arm will bring justice to the nations.
The islands will look to Me
   and wait in hope for My arm"

[isaiah 51:5]

a leaky valve

2011-02-21T18:25:00.002-05:00

my heart has had
a hole inside
and from it drips
my fear and
that fear falls
into my legs
and makes them
weak.

but I worry that
if I should try
to mend my heart
then perhaps
without a valve
to leak it,
the fear would
fill my heart
and sink it.

How much is He worth?

2011-02-19T07:23:00.000-05:00

Now the Passover and Feast of Unleavened Bread were two days away. And the chief priests and the scribes were seeking a way to deviously arrest Him, that they might kill Him. For they were saying, “Not during the feast, lest there be a riot by the people.”

And while He was reclining in Bethany, in the house of Simon the Leper, there came a woman having an alabaster vase of oil-- pure and expensive nard. Breaking the alabaster vase, she poured out the oil on His head. But some were indignant, saying to each other, “Why has this ointment been wasted? For this ointment could have been sold for more than 300 denarii and given to the poor.” And they criticized her harshly.

But Jesus said, “Leave her alone! Why do you trouble her? She has done a good work for me. For you always have the poor among you and whenever you wish you can do good to them, but you do not always have me. She did what she could; she poured oil on my body as the preparation for my burial. Truly I say to you, wherever the Gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she did will be spoken of in memory of her.”

Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests in order that he might betray Him. And when they heard this, they rejoiced and promised to give him silver. Then he began seeking for an opportune time to betray Him.

[mark14.1-11]

dreams and visions :: ATL

2011-02-13T04:33:00.000-05:00

"Your old will dream dreams, and your young will have visions..."

The dreams and visions of table 6.

> We have a dream that the Seventh-day Adventist movement would be a movement of disciples, each member having the opportunity to be discipled, and equipped for the privilege of discipling another.

> It is our dream, our vision that Seventh-day Adventists would grow a stronger worldwide reputation as healers; and that when I tell someone I'm a Seventh-day Adventist Christian there is no need to apologize.

> Our dreams and visions include an Adventist church so filled with love for Jesus that there is no need for evangelism by guilt.

> We have a dream that our church—each of us—would consider our possessions not our own, but as belonging to Jesus and only lent to us, and that we would be willing to give them up in His holy name.

2011-02-13T00:32:00.001-05:00

My job is not to be right;

my job is to be in Christ.

. . . . .

We can't argue about the truth of Jesus.

We can argue about the truth of the language we use about Jesus,

but Jesus transcends our explanations of Him.

. . . . .

We don't want to trade our Adventist distinctiveness for generic Christianity;

what we'd very much like to do, however, is to trade a self-centered Adventism for a Christ-centered Adventism.

. . . . .

These are some of the thought-gems from two great days I spent in Atlanta at a gathering for the One Project, a movement to celebrate (and encourage) the supremacy of Jesus. One hundred seventy people gathered together to worship, converse, and re-consecrate themselves to live with Jesus as All, and leaving to be change-agents within the Seventh-day Adventist denomination. It was powerful.

You probably weren't there, which is a shame. But Joshua and I are already registered for Seattle 2012. We'd love see to you there.

Jesus. All.

Nothing more, nothing less, nothing else.

Sex Trafficking and the Super Bowl

2011-02-05T01:49:00.001-05:00

UGH. --> this link tells a sad, sad story.

Oh, oh, ohhhhhh. Can we please take this super sporting event, this chips-and-chicken-wings national holy day, to pray for the girls and women and men ensnared in the sex trade? Please?

lies and miracles and much needed courage

2011-02-03T23:56:00.008-05:00

I had this little poem all written up and ready to publish, but it was a little sad and today I needed to say something that was exciting and happy and encouraging. Because a really nice series of things happened today.

A few weeks ago I sent in an abstract for the annual Seminary Scholarship Symposium. Last year I did a brave thing and submitted an abstract and presented a paper, which was exciting and a good growing experience. This year I knew I didn't have time to prepare a paper, so I sent in an abstract for a poster presentation. I thought it would be less work.

THAT WAS A LIE.

This semester I've been so overwhelmed with work and school and thesis and ministry that I moved from busy-happy to busy-unhappy (read: depressed and exhausted). And even though I've known that I needed to get this poster done, I haven't done it. And with our snow day yesterday, I couldn't get the poster designed with the lady-that-does-that-stuff, nor could I get it into Imaging Services to be printed. It had to be done today because the first presentations are today.

The short version of the story is this: Last night I was exhausted from a nearly-sleepless week and whining to Joshua with lots of "Why did I sign up for this? This is so dumb. It'll never get done. I should give up." Whine, whine, whine. But I worked on it all night, with lots of help from Joshua. Then we worked on it all morning. By 10:15 we finally had a printable project, and the symposium needed it by 12:00. Lis at Imaging Services was amazing and did not charge us a $30 rush fee, and managed to get it done by 11:15, so it was mounted and into the symposium by noon. AMAZING.

And tonight I spent 90 minutes in front of my poster talking about my research project and answering questions. And the response was so encouraging. People were thanking me for doing this thesis, and offering positive feedback, engaging in good conversation. It was awesome. And then Dr. Fortin (Dean of the Seminary) and Dr. Choi (symposium organizer) came by and announced that my poster had been chosen as the Dean's Choice. They even put a nice blue ribbon on it and told me it came with a $50 prize. "Because it is fresh, and groundbreaking research, asking important questions that no one else is asking, and looking toward the future. Very exciting, very interesting project. We thought that you were gracious to the subject; where it could have been harsh, you were kind."

It was humbling and amazing just to be able to talk about my research and have everyone be so positive about it and encouraging me with how important this project is. I really, really, really needed that encouragement. I feel re-excited about working on my thesis. Am I still scared and intimidated? Oh yeah. Definitely. But I feel encouraged. Thank you, LORD.

see how happy I am even before I got a ribbon? :)

God's Will for You: Problem Solved

2011-02-03T00:06:00.000-05:00

It seems as though many of my friends and fellow bloggers are like me and spend a lot of time wondering about what God's will for them is. We're in a transitional time in life, with graduations and job interviews and graduate school options and people moving around. So this question comes up a lot. What is God's will for me?

Well, everyone, I have the answer. Problem solved. I know God's will for your life.

For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God; that no one transgress and wrong his brother in this matter, because the Lord is an avenger in all these things, as we told you beforehand and solemnly warned you. For God has not called us for impurity, but in holiness. Therefore whoever disregards this, disregards not man but God, who gives his Holy Spirit to you.

[1thess4.3-8//esv]

winter portraits.

2011-01-27T16:50:00.001-05:00

I love this man so much.

The Morning

2011-01-27T16:21:00.001-05:00

Death asleep

was soon disturbed

amidst his gloomy dreams

by a brilliant,

flashing hand,

afire with golden beams.

It was the voice

of Him who rose

upon a Sunday morn

that voiced the shout

of eschaton

and blew the waking horn.

Arise! he said.

Arise! Make haste!

Your slumber has expired.

Your fortune

now awaits you, Fiend,

a future writ in fire.

The Death-ghost

shook his cobweb locks

and blinked his heavy eyes,

stood and lumbered

toward the door

with deep and ancient sighs.

Through the portal

he advanced,

obeying Christ's demand.

He disappeared

and so released

the captive, spell-bound band.

Then death was gone,

asleep no more,

consumed in waking fire.

And resurrected saints

they sang

God's praise, a morning choir!

Death: A sleep, asleep.

2011-01-25T12:56:00.001-05:00

If death be (as it says

in ancient, sacred words)

a sleep---

Does it perhaps on

darkened earth recline

its weary head,

at home with worms

and feeding germs

the soil to make its bed?

Or could it be

that death does dream

upon the tear-soak'd pillow

of those who weep

for those asleep,

wet with liquid sorrow?

Death may indeed

take its rest

while laying on its side,

wrapped in blankets

of the grave, dark as

silent minds.

Fears, dears.

2011-01-24T16:07:00.001-05:00

oh, please, no.

One of my most deep-seated fears in life is

having children.

or, to be honest, even

wanting children.

A pomegranate.

2011-01-14T13:34:00.002-05:00

The pomegranate was hiding secrets. Smoothed with bright red, a lovely shape-- but what I wanted was on the inside. I cut open the chest of a pomegranate and it bled over the board. It stained the knife red. It would not give up its fruit. I scraped the inside with a grapefruit spoon. I compelled the hidden seeds out into the hungry white ramekin. The fruit clung home, resisted the coercion. I took the red case into my hands and tore it open, split the flesh with my fingers, my skin bloody. And it opened. The pomegranate opened and it was sweet.

. . . . .

Who is this,

coming from Edom,

with garments stained red

and crimson hands?

Who is this

who wears the juice

of grapes and the

bleeding pomegranate?

He has trod,

trod the winepress alone.

No one was with him.

No one rescued him.

. . . . .

A knife would not do,

no.

It must be His hands.

Rise, let us be going.

2011-01-01T00:01:00.001-05:00

"Rise, let us be going." [matthew26.46]

The disciples went to sleep when they should have kept awake, and when they realized what they had done it produced despair. The sense of the irreparable is apt to make us despair, and we say---"It is all up now, it is no use in trying any more."If we imagine that this kind of despair is exceptional, we are mistaken, it is a very ordinary human experience. Whenever we realize that we have not done that which we had a magnificent opportunity of doing, then we are apt to sink into despair; and Jesus Christ comes and says---"Sleep on now, that opportunity is lost forever, you cannot alter it, but arise and go to the next thing." Let the past sleep, but let it sleep on the bosom of Christ, and go out into the irresistible future with Him.

There are experiences like this in each of our lives. We are in despair, the despair that comes from actualities, and we cannot lift ourselves out of it. The disciples in this instance had done a downright unforgivable thing; they had gone to sleep instead of watching with Jesus, but He came with a spiritual initiative against their despair and said---"Arise, and do the next thing." If we are inspired of God, what is the next thing? To trust Him absolutely and to pray on the ground of His Redemption.

Never let the sense of failure corrupt your new action.

[oswald.chambers // MyUtmostForHisHighest // feb18]

understanding the evils of my country's racism

2010-12-27T21:56:00.000-05:00

I. The Humiliation of Etiqutte

As a form of social control, etiquette is one of the best. It is a largely unverbalized but widely understood system of rules for social interaction which distributes power and governs social distance and intimacy. While the Emancipation Proclamation unshackled the Black population from the legal ownership of Whites, it did not free them from the rules of racial etiquette forced upon them by custom and enforced by violence and disenfranchisement. Not only did this system of etiquette (which set rules for glances, sidewalk positioning, the use of titles, the volume of the voice, handshaking rituals, and more) keep the Black person "in his place," it also made the Whites feel the superiority which they were increasingly desperate to maintain.

"The etiquette gave a moral sanction to slavery and racism and reassurance to members of the master race. By demanding not only deference from the black, but connivance also, by insisting that the black not only accept his inferior status but also act as if he too believed in it--for this is what the fawning ritual of race relation required--the white man was asking for and receiving confirmation that his subjugation of the Negro was right and proper."

[Arther Sheps in the introduction to Bertram Wilbur Doyle's book The Etiquette of Race Relations in the South. New York: Schocken Books, 1971. (Originally published in 1937). Quotation taken from page xii.]

. . . . . . . . . . .

II. Informal Rage and Extra-legal Violence

Southern Whites reluctantly conceded their defeat in the Civil War which led to the abolition of slavery and the constitutional enfranchisement of the Black person, but they would not tolerate the idea nor the experience of the equality of the Black person to the White person; instead they strictly enforced a racial etiquette based on a theory of Black inferiority to White supremacy which forced Black deference and self-humiliation. Violation of these norms--even before the years of legislated Jim Crow--was met with the retribution of violence. Fear of a violation of these norms, fear of "the assertive Negro," was perhaps the greatest impetus for the legislation of segregation laws in the first place. Even the thought of a Black person to share the dinner table with a White person was enough tinder for the racist rage.

"Like the strengthened taboo against sex between white women and black men, taboos against eating and drinking with blacks remained strong in the postemancipation South and, for many white southerners, became deeply ingrained. 'If anything would make me kill my children, it would be the possibility that niggers might sometime eat at the same table and associate with them as equals," one woman told Clifton Johnson in 1904.'"

[Jennifer Ritterhouse, Growing Up Jim Crow: How Black and White Southern Children Learned Race. Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina Press, 2006. Quotation taken from page 42.]

. . . . . . . . . .

III. Effectual Re-enslavement

Between the Civil War and World War II, at least 100,000 Black people were "leased" as convicts: the re-enslavement of a people promised freedom by their country, then imprisoned on flimsy accusations such as "illegal voting," and sold to the cruel owners of burgeoning industries in the South, forced to labor in inhumane conditions, earning neither their wage nor their freedom.

"If workers tried to flee, Smith [former Georgia state senator and expansive business owner] relied on deputy sheriffs to recapture them and his own overseers to inflict brutal punishments. 'They had dogs to trail them with so they always got caught, and then the whipping boss beat them almost to death,' Hill said. 'It was awful to hear them hollering and begging for mercy. If they hollered "Lord have mercy" Marse ["Master"] Jim didn't hear them, but if they cried, "Marse Jim have mercy!" then he made them stop the beating. He say, "The Lord rule Heaven, but Jim Smith ruled the earth." "

[Douglas A Blackmon, Slavery by Another Name: The Re-Enslavement of Black Americans from the Civil War to World War II. New York: Doubleday, 2008. Quotation taken from page 91.]

. . . . . . . . . .

IV. The Courageous Christian

In this era of unprecedented racial equality in the history of the United States, it is impossibly difficult to accurately imagine the pressure that all people experienced (even in the North) to concede to the prevalent racism, to indulge the popular sentiment of prejudice, to give up the movement for Black suffrage, to be quiet in the face of political disenfranchisement and regularly published hate speech and all too common violence perpetrated and sad neglect of a downtrodden population. But this easy road was not the road of the true Christian. Despite the harsh social and economic consequences, the Christian was not to compromise with the oppressive racial etiquette or the intimidating political movements.

"No matter what the gain or the loss, we must act nobly and courageously in the sight of God and our Saviour. Let us as Christians who accept the principle that all men, white and black, are free and equal, adhere to this principle, and not be cowards in the face of the world, and in the face of the heavenly intelligences. We should treat the colored man just as respectfully as we would treat the white man. And we can now, by precept and example, win others to the true course."

[Ellen G. White, Manuscript 7, "The Colored People." (1896) Quoted on page 111 of Ronald D Graybill's book E. G. White and Race Relations. Washington, D.C.: Review & Herald, 1970.]

. . . . . . . . . . .

V. And today? . . . .

as told by the children.

2010-12-22T15:09:00.006-05:00

I'll know I'm back home when . . .

2010-12-19T22:51:00.002-05:00

I can say "The mountain's out!" and people will know what I mean. And there will be a mountain to point at.
There's a coffee shop on every corner.
There are more Subarus than pickups.
The people all know the difference between Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, and Thai food.
Nobody thinks it's weird that my city has 5 quadrants.
Everyone knows how to say Issaquah, Puyallup, Chehalis, Couch, and Willamette.
I'll be able to assume that the people with umbrellas are tourists.
About half my friends live in the woods.
I overhear regular people in discussion using terms like "localvore," and "freegan."
Chacos can be worn any day of the year.
People around me know the meaning of "U-Dub," "the Schnitz," and, of course, "jo-jos" :)
Bridges are everywhere and there are no tolls.
The bike lanes in the city are wider than the car lanes.
Any eco-system I want is within a couple hours driving distance: mountain, beach, rainforest, oceanic sound, waterfall paradise, hot springs, desert.
I can blame everything on ex-Californians.
Normal people recycle.
People drive politely.
Mossy front yards are welcome.
I can almost look forward to a mild earthquake.
I no longer have to worry about tornados. [Unless I live in Aumsville?!]
"Weird" is considered a term of endearment.
My neighbors are as passionate about their microbrews as some people are about their political parties.
I can enjoy First Thursdays again.
Trees are green in January.
50% of people say they hate Starbucks, but 60% of people go there.
Birkenstocks and beards are plain jane.
No waitress blinks twice when I ask for my order to be vegetarian.
None of the sports teams are really any good.
I can once again enjoy the deliciousness of Burgerville. Yes, please.
I can navigate the geography without a map.

To those suffering in pain--

2010-12-03T00:11:00.005-05:00

Often your mind may be clouded because of pain. Then do not try to think. You know that Jesus loves you. He understands your weakness. You may do His will by simply resting in His arms.

:: Ellen White, writing to those suffering in sickness. The Ministry of Healing, 251.

these theses

2010-11-30T22:20:00.003-05:00

It is my argument that the early Seventh-day Adventist missionaries resisted both the racist beliefs and racist practices of the South, then -- pressured by custom and escalating violence -- they began accommodating the racism of the South by racially segregating yet continuing to resist the oppression of Blacks. Over time, however, that segregation which began as accommodation was accepted and normalized; in effect, it became part of the Adventist culture in America. Though racial segregation was a temporary expediency, the church's failure began when it ceased to question the policy (and it started righting these wrongs when it began again to corporately challenge both the assumptions and practices of racial segregation).

I think I've got the thesis paragraph of my thesis project down.
If you want to know what I've been laboring on for months and will continue to work on for more months, there you have it, folks.

My feelers are fixed, but my words are not.

2010-10-27T22:30:00.004-04:00

All my life I never felt enough, I was emotionally anemic. My little sister once told me: "I think your feelers are broken."

And yet God (at sundry times and in divers manners) has been breaking me up inside and giving me emotions. At times I feel like Pinocchio ("I'm a real boy!"), trying out my human-ness as a new thing. I don't have a lot of experience at coping with so much feeeeeeeeling. So sometimes I'm in the back of a library, whispering out my wounds and worries to a friend and I can't make my words come right or my face look right or my heart feel right, even though everything is whirring around perfect and punctual in my head.

Many will be lost while hoping to be Christians.

2010-10-24T11:05:00.003-04:00

Many are inquiring, "How am I to make the surrender of myself to God?" You desire to give yourself to Him, but you are weak in moral power, in slavery to doubt, and controlled by the habits of your life of sin. Your promises and resolutions are like ropes of sand. You cannot control your thoughts, your impulses, your affections. The knowledge of your broken promises and forfeited pledges weakens your confidence in your own sincerity, and causes you to feel that God cannot accept you; but you need not despair.

What you need to understand is the true force of the will. This is the governing power in the nature of man, the power of decision, or of choice. Everything depends on the right action of the will. The power of choice God has given to men; it is theirs to exercise.

You cannot change your heart, you cannot of yourself give to God its affections; but you can choose to serve Him. You can give Him your will; He will then work in you to will and to do according to His good pleasure. Thus your whole nature will be brought under the control of the Spirit of Christ; your affections will be centered upon Him, your thoughts will be in harmony with Him.

Desires for goodness and holiness are right as far as they go; but if you stop here, they will avail nothing. Many will be lost while hoping and desiring to be Christians. They do not come to the point of yielding the will to God. They do not now choose to be Christians.

Through the right exercise of the will, an entire change may be made in your life. By yielding up your will to Christ, you ally yourself with the power that is above all principalities and powers. You will have strength from above to hold you steadfast, and thus through constant surrender to God you will be enabled to live the new life, even the life of faith.

[steps to Christ, 46]

The Agony of Autumn Shades

2010-10-20T08:48:00.002-04:00

The hues admired by passing eyes

which here adorn each branch and limb

so impress the passers-by,

yet are birthed from pain within.

Men stroll in autumn's changing air

and revel in the fiery trees;

they think of God painting so fair

these tinted bronze and golden leaves.

But human minds could never guess

the agony of autumn shades

called forth at the divine behest

which turn the forests into graves.

Each colored leaf on outstretched hand

is dying slow, a death most bright.

And gently falling to the land

they move toward graves of frozen night.

This mighty maple longs for June

when plenteous stars it green unfurled

to shine in verdant green at noon--!

but now stand flushed and dry and curled.

The God in heaven has seen me proud.

What strength I had I thought was mine,

but was in truth by heav'n endowed

and now in fact by heav'n resigned.

He brings me death. My weakness bared

Is no triumph against Him, trying.

Yet as the passers-by declare,

my greatest glory is in dying.

He's Been Answering

2010-10-18T03:21:00.002-04:00

Perhaps it's because of my prayers asking for such a thing, or perhaps it's just because my God is a holy Pursuer, but lately the LORD has been trying to change me from the inside out. Usually when I pray for God to change me, I'm unconsciously asking for Him to do it painlessly, quickly, thoroughly, and--please--in a way that does not inconvenience me. So when this change hurts I want to reject it. When this change requires something of me, I'm ready to give up and go distract myself with nonsense.

I've asked that God would help me to set aside my pride and vanity. But when He invites to forego my rituals and expenditures on vanity of appearance, I balk. I'm not ready to face the world with my bad skin and my flat hair. Do I need concealer and a blow dryer to be a person?

I've asked that God would help me to make the most of my life, to do and to be with excellence, to love what is good and become more like Him. But when He points out that I'm wasting my life with TV, I want to argue about the quality of programming or start comparing myself to others that I judge are worse off than I am. Do I think that I can hang on to Christ and to the world at the same time? I wish I could, and yet I wish I could sing sincerely that old hymn, "Take the world, but give me Jesus...."

I've asked that God would direct me into the future that He desires for me, that He would put me where I'm supposed to be-- yet I've asked Him to choose from my multiple choice list, and I've been keen to point out my top choices. But if God asks me to consider a future in option "E: None of the Above," I get to feeling a little anxious. Can I really be more than titles and positions, be more than my job or my degrees?

I know He works in many ways (many of them mysterious) and on many levels with many people. With me right now regarding this, He has pointed out sin in my life and asked me to choose Him instead. But it's uncomfortable. Sometimes it hurts. It means the putting to death of my self... with a sometimes weak faith that He'll resurrect me in His own image.

What I want to be is surrendered to God. What I want to do is to love Him with everything I've got. What I'm finding is that it's surprisingly difficult to say YES and "Amen" as He answers my own prayers.

Self-Pity and Christ's Heavenly Ministry

2010-10-02T18:41:00.001-04:00

In the car driving home. Back ache. Raining, yet sun in my eyes. Tiredness.
My heart is hurting. I feel confused and helpless and just as I'm giving in to the darkly satisfying sense of self-pity, the words of the song playing through my speakers come through.

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea,
A great high priest whose name is Love,
who ever lives and pleads for me...

And I realize that self-pity is stupid. I have a Savior who loves me, watches over me, pleads His blood before the Father on my behalf, blesses me a thousand times over, is preparing a place for me beside Him in eternity. My petty problems are nothing to cry over.

Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise the one risen Son of God!

Who is this person?

2010-09-30T00:37:00.003-04:00

ENFJs weave and strengthen the collective fabric of social conventions and interactions. Inclusiveness is important and they are particularly sensitive to those who are excluded. They focus on others, feeling a glow when those around them are happy, and troubled when something is amiss. They are natural cheerleaders, often expressing support, gratitude, and encouragement, and heaping praise onto those they appreciate. They take note of what is being done and what needs doing, offering their assistance wherever necessary. ENFJs enjoy organising group activities and tend to take their commitments seriously. In general, they are reliable and do not like to disappoint others. As team players and project leaders, they have a gift for rallying their players, focusing on what is being done right and each member's strengths. They are loyal and they expect loyalty. They carry conversations well, finding common ground with their speaker. They tend to find the correct and gracious way to respond in any given situation, no matter how tense or uncomfortable it is.

I am absolutely stunned by these results, not because it doesn't fairly describe me as I am now, but because this is an amazingly different person than Previous Me -- fiercely independent, aloof, unable to empathize, quick to criticize, unskilled at encouragement, anti-team everything. Dear GOD, what happened to me??

You.

.

Come and Seek and Find

2010-09-25T00:04:00.003-04:00

Have you a sense of want in your soul? Do you hunger and thirst after righteousness? Then this is an evidence that Christ has wrought upon your heart, and created this sense of need, in order that He may be sought after to do those things for you through the endowment of His Holy Spirit which it is impossible for you to do for yourself. The Lord specifies no conditions except that you hunger for His mercy, desiring His counsel, and long for His love. “Ask!” The asking makes it manifest that you realize your necessity, and if you ask in faith, you will receive. The Lord has pledged His word, and it cannot fail. That you feel and know that you are a sinner is sufficient argument in asking for His mercy and compassion. The condition upon which you may come to God is not that you shall be holy, but that you shall ask God to cleanse you from all sin and purify you from all iniquity. Then why wait longer? Why not take God at His word, andsay:

“Here, Lord, I give myself to Thee,
‘Tis all that I can do”?

If Satan comes to cast his shadow between you and God, accusing you of sin, tempting you to distrust God and doubt His mercy, say: I cannot allow my weakness to come between me and God; for He is my strength. My sins, which are many, are laid upon Jesus, my divine Substitute andSacrifice.

“Nothing in my hand I bring.
Simply to thy cross I cling.”

No man can look within himself and find anything in his character that will recommend him to God, or make his acceptance sure. It is only through Jesus, whom the Father gave for the life of the world, that the sinner may find access to God. Jesus alone is our Redeemer, our Advocate andMediator; in Him is our only hope for pardon, peace, and righteousness. It is by virtue of the blood of Christ that the sin-stricken soul can be restored to soundness. Christ is the fragrance, the holy incense which makes your petition acceptable to the Father. Then can you not say:

“Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come.”

Coming to Christ does not require severe mental effort and agony; it is simply accepting the terms of salvation that God has made plain in His Word. The blessing is free to all. The invitation is, “Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy,and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness” (Isaiah 55:1, 2).

[Ellen White, "Come and Seek and Find," 1 Selected Messages, 332-333. First appeared as an article in the Signs of the Times, December 19, 1982.]

What God Must Do ?

2010-09-21T01:15:00.003-04:00

From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that He must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests, and teachers of the law, and that He must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.” Mt 16:21

Jesus, the Divine Son, must go and must suffer and must be killed and must be raised? What could it possibly mean that God “must” do something? Is He compelled by some other person or force? Not likely, considering His supreme position in the universe. Has He trapped Himself into it by willing it? No, I think there’s a better answer.

. . .

A couple of years ago Christianity Today did a series titled “Is Our Gospel Too Small?” That question has been on my mind often lately as I’ve considered this rich and exhaustless science of salvation. I’m afraid that perhaps our good ol’ evangelical pragmatism has duped us into shrinking the Gospel down to one (important) part of the problem and one (very important) part of the solution. It is good and necessary to be able to explain the Gospel simply and there are some helpful tools out there for doing just that, but if we think that three select texts from Romans on a pocket-sized pamphlet does justice to the sin problem or to the Savior solution, then indeed our Gospel is far too small.

The sin problem is bigger than only my personal wrong choices—it is a problem in my nature, it is a social problem too; in fact, it is a complex cosmic problem! And the solution is bigger than the death of Jesus on the cross. To solve the big, complex, personal-social-cosmic problem, God made a big, complex, personal-social-cosmic solution which includes the cross event, but is not limited to it. The solution requires His deity, His incarnation, His perfect life, His resurrection, His inaugeration, His ascension, the sending of His Spirit, the revelation of His will, His intercession, His judgment, the cleansing by His fire, His return—and even more!

Our sharp focus on the cross—to the neglect of the manger and the empty tomb and the heavenly sanctuary and the new earth—has diminshed our appreciation for the whole work of God. It has narrowed our vision to the gift of justification and left us with teeny tiny predestinations and sanctifications and glorifications. What a joy it is to be forgiven! Yet there are more joys beside, joys that are stuffed on every page of every Bible, waiting for some perceptive soul to take them up and enjoy them.

Recently an important insight was forged in my mind about salvation: Everything that God has done, is doing, and will do is necessary for our salvation. No piece of the plan is superfluous, no action has been unnecessary, no part is an appendix. I was initially startled to read that Christ “was raised to life for our justification” (Rom. 4:25) because I thought that justification was completely secured on the cross, but I thought wrongly. My justification requires not only the cross but the resurrection, and indeed every aspect of Christ’s ministry. I could no more be saved without His kingly inaugeration than I could without His sacrificial death. Sounds almost heretical, doesn’t it?

But now that I understand God’s salvation economy, I perceive the significance of Matthew 16:21. Who or what makes it necessary that Christ go and suffer and die and live again? By His own free will the Lord has chosen to enact a glorious plan of salvation, and if we are to be saved then Christ must go and must suffer and must die and must be raised again. Christ journeyed to Jerusalem because He wanted to save me, and that meant enduring the cross. Christ still wants to save me, and now that means not a cross but the tunic of the High Priest, soon it will mean returning in the clouds, and someday it will mean recreating the heavens and the earth---and all for love of us!

Regarding the struggle of dressing as a professional woman.

2010-08-29T22:34:00.002-04:00

4. Yes, We Knew This: It’s Worse for Women

Most news junkies have probably heard the story of Debrahlee Lorenzana, the Queens woman who sued Citibank last month, alleging she was fired for being “too hot.” Whether or not there’s any validity to the woman’s case, women in the workplace are often faced with a double bind: they are expected to be sexy but can be punished for being too attractive. Sixty-one percent of the hiring managers we surveyed—60 percent of whom were men—said they believe a woman would benefit from wearing clothing that shows off her figure at work. Meanwhile, 47 percent of those same managers said they believe some women are penalized for being too good-looking in the office. As a whole, women are perceived to benefit more from their looks: 39 percent of managers believe that being “very good-looking” is more of an advantage for women than men, while only 16 percent believe the opposite—that it’s more beneficial to men than to women. (Is anybody surprised?)

(This quote comes via Newseek. See also Equality Myth's blog on a recent Forbes article regarding women and flirtation in the workplace.)

So we want to avoid looking frumpy and outdated, or sloppy and unprofessional. Yet we're also expected to look attractive-- but not too much of that kind of attractive. Look good but not too good? *Sigh. And let me just say that as a part of the female clergy, figuring out how to dress is the most complex part of my job. More than once I wished we all wore loose, Middle Eastern robes or nun habits.

Update [24Oct]: Apparently this issue is on the minds of other female clergy, too >>

God is FOR me. God is for ME.

2010-08-05T02:05:00.000-04:00

Grasp the fact that God is for you--let this certainty make its impact on you in relation to what you are up against at this very moment; and you will find in thus knowing God as your sovereign protector, irrevocably committed to you in the covenant of grace, both freedom from fear and new strength for the fight. [J.I. Packer]

Yes, God is for me.
If God is for us, who can be against us?

But reading my friend Andrea's post which included Packer's quotation brought one issue forcefully to my mind: But why? Why is God for me? And should He even be?

This morning I transgressed God's law. And not in a "Oops, what just happened?" sort of way. This was a "I hear You talking and I don't want to listen!" sort of way. It was iniquity, sin, rebellion. I defied God to His face.

But He is "for" me?

It doesn't make any sense. He knows what I've done-- He was right there. But He is still "for" me. Why? Shouldn't He be against me? Shouldn't He at least be neutral? Or distant? Shouldn't He be watching me fight my own battles and losing and muse to His perfect self, "If only she hadn't rebelled..."?
But He is "for" me.

"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" [Romans 8.31-35]

God gave up His Son for me, holding nothing back. He offers to me, graciously, every good thing in that Son. God is my justifier, defending me against the (accurate and well-documented) accusations of the enemy. He stands on my side of the courtroom and defends me against the penalty of the crime I committed against Him to His very face. The very One, the only One, with the power to condemn me for my manifest rebellion stands as my Intercessor, His own blood shed for my sake. And no matter where I am, His love is there with me. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate me from the love of Christ.

He is "for" me!

Grace really is amazing.

the kisses of his mouth

2010-08-01T17:14:00.001-04:00

"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth--
for your love is more delightful than wine."
Song of Songs 1:2

Five years of married love and it just keeps getting better.
I love you, Joshua! Thank you for showing me what real love is like.

#44. Realizing that my life is better than I dreamed about as a kid.

2010-06-08T00:28:00.000-04:00

I live in a house with a yard. I have a nice car (a 2001 Honda Civic, but I think it’s pretty nice :) and I own a computer and a convection toaster oven. I’m sleeping on clean sheets and I’m watering plants and watching the hastas grow under my front window. I’m fit and healthy; my back is strong. I get my hair done in a real salon and I go to the dentist for cleanings. I have friends— good people, fun people, people I can openly share with.

These were all things I didn’t have as a child, things I used to long for. I yearned for clothes from Old Navy, I pined after clean cars and fresh fruit, I wished to live in a place to which I could invite people. And now I have all these things, all these things and more.

But it’s more than the things.

I have a Savior, my Lord Jesus Christ, and He has lavished on me so many gifts. I have a confidence I never had as a child, a sense that it’s okay to speak my mind. I have a husband— something I didn’t really long for as I child or a teenager (back then I thought love was for the romantically foolish), but caught me by surprise and totally remapped my interior life. I have a college degree… and now I’m finishing up my masters degree. I understand my place in the world. I feel now; I experience emotion in a way I never did before, deeply. I have a voice, I’ve been gifted, I know what it means to live.

I’m no longer the child that I was ashamed to be. I’m a woman, a very blessed woman looking to the future with hope and enjoying the present moment with deep satisfaction.

into golden brilliance

2010-05-28T02:25:00.000-04:00

Up temple steps,
one Alistair goes reluctantly
with arms full of books
and his left shoe untied
and a mind back in the stacks
searching for the one last
reference which (he pretends)
would complete
his research and, so,
him.

A girl, Lysette, sits
on one polished bench inside
and with an unmoving gaze
watches the moving fresco
of the sky. Her young
mind sees the blue reimagined,
clouds spun in gold.
Her books are outside the gate.

Temple emerges from navy
midnight to pure rose
, into golden brilliance.
Sinks into purple
dusk again. A temple
in time.

Some Playthings

2010-05-21T00:37:00.003-04:00

A trembling brown bird

standing in the high grass turns
out to be a blown

oakleaf after all.
Was the leaf playing bird, or
was it “just” the wind

playing with the leaf?
Was my very noticing
itself at play with

an irregular
frail patch of brown in the cold
April afternoon?

These questions that hang
motionless in the now-stilled
air: what of their

frailty, in the light
of even the most fragile
of problematic

substances like all
these momentary playthings
of recognition?

Questions that are asked
of questions: no less weighty
and lingeringly

dark than the riddles
posed by any apparent
bird or leaf or breath

of wind, instruments
probing what we feel we know
for some kind of truth.

[poem by John Hollander, from his book A Draft of Light]

Wool Slacks and The Temptation to Power

2010-05-05T01:17:00.000-04:00

It is ironic, as Henri Nouwen articulates, that even while claiming to follow the poor and powerless Jesus, the Christian leaders of history "gave in to the temptation of power."

. . . . . .

Monday I went to rent a car. It was a long trip getting there, but I wore high heels and wool dress slacks and a knit top for the entire day just to impress upon the rental car personnel that I was someone serious and business-like and they should not disrespect me or try any chicanery. Watch out!-- I'm wearing slacks! I called ahead asking for directions and rates and the woman on the other end gave them to me, as well as a rundown of the needed qualifications required to do business with them. "You needa be at least 21, with a driver license, and proofa insurance." Check, check, and check.

When I walked in the door, slacks and all, I gave the attendant a bright assertive smile and said, "Hi, I'm here to rent a car. I just talked with you on the phone." Smile. Assertive posture. SLACKS, for goodness' sake. She says, "Um, honey, are you 21?" I wore those high heels for nothing.

. . . . . .

I think that my petite stature and young face and perhaps even my femaleness have given me a sensitivity to patronization. I don’t experience it often, but when someone acts condescendingly to me, my pride flares hot and bright. In those moments I feel the need to instruct people that I am not a high school student, I am not his secretary, I am not a summer intern, I am not a dorm student. What I am trying to say is, “I am better than that. I deserve more respect than that.” But why? Does a dorm chaplain deserve more respect than a dorm student? Does a ministerial officer deserve more respect than an administrative assistant? Does a graduate student deserve more respect than a high school student? Reflection tells me that this demand for respect comes out of a place of personal insecurity.

This post may also be boring but I realize now that that doesn't discourage people from reading it.

2010-05-01T18:43:00.001-04:00

Things are better now.

I could explain more about how I got that big paper done, how God worked some miracles to get me through my finals, how He moved beside me to give me peace in the questions, how I'm on day 2 of my Chicago field school and things are looking up, how the magnolias gave way to apple blossoms, but I won't. I'll just say that I'm out of that season of discouragement and into a season of hopeful expectation. And, importantly, I'll say thank you to you, my real-life and cyberspace and long-distance and down-the-road friends, for your encouragement and prayers. It really helped.

I feel so much better. So much.

The future is right here.

do not read this post. it is boring.

2010-04-13T13:19:00.002-04:00

Okay. I warned you. Really, you won't like it. Go read something else.

I am tired; so tired that after my (admittedly intense) workout this morning I felt physically sick. I need sleep. // I'm freaking out a little bit about my last two projects due this semester. I got overly ambitious in this research project due tomorrow, now I'm doing last-minute restructuring to the entire endeavor in order to put out a mediocre paper when what I really want to produce is an awesome paper that contributes to real knowledge. // I've got a series in Chicago coming up REAL fast and I feel so underprepared, all the while wishing, hoping, (but not really praying) that it will be beneficial to the world and an instrument of the Spirit. // All of this academic studying into theological problems in the Adventist church is a great weight upon my mind. The thing is that in academia everything is controverted. Everything. And when you study theology, that means that everything about your faith is under fire. On every issue I look at, I end up staring into the face of doubt and it's a conscious choice to believe and to (again and again) submit myself to God's Word, knowing that I can't wait to believe until every question is settled.... waiting for additional light. I face questions not only from inside, and not only from my coursework, but I, for better or worse, am also the go-to person for other people's doubts. As I said, this is a great weight upon my mind. // The magnolias are beautiful. Very, very beautiful.

I have Him // Or He has me // Or both // Or neither

2010-03-28T20:22:00.005-04:00

"I entreat you therefore, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, that you present your bodies as a living sacrifice to God, holy and pleasing-- this is your spiritual act of worship." >> Paul, Romans 12:1

"There, in the quiet of that late hour, I said to the Holy Spirit, 'My Lord, I have mistreated You all my Christian life. I have treated You like a servant. When I wanted You I called for You; when I was about to engage in some work I beckoned You to come and help me perform my task. I have kept You in the place of a servant. I have sought to use You only as a willing servant to help me in my self-appointed and chosen work. I shall do so no more. Just now I give You this body of mine; from my head to my feet, I give it to You. I give You my hands, my lips, my eyes and lips, my brain; all that I am within and without, I hand over to You for You to live in it the life that You please. You may send this body to Africa, or lay it on a bed with cancer. You may blind the eyes, or send me with Your message to Tibet. You may take this body to the Eskimos, or send it to a hospital with pneumonia. It is your body from this moment on. Help yourself to it. Thank You, my Lord, I believe You have accepted it, for in Romans twelve and one You said "acceptable unto God." Thank You again, my Lord, for taking me. We now belong to each other.'" >>Walter L. Wilson, 1914

>>

(Am I willing to pray that prayer?
Are you?)

Oh God, make me willing.
Or: Oh God, make me willing to be willing.
Or just: Oh God, make me.

>>

"Can I have You, Holy Spirit?
Will you come into my heart?
I'd like to have the whole of You
instead of merely parts."

And then I heard the voice of God,
the great Jehovah, say:

"Can I have you, my dear daughter?
Will you let me have your heart?
I'd like to have the whole of You
instead of merely parts."

2010-03-24T23:55:00.001-04:00

I took this photo once when I was jogging around Northeast Portland, through the curving streets, under the giant old trees, pounding the pavement past the varying shades of Portland roses, my breath getting heavier and my steps shrinking as I rounded another corner. Stately house after stately house, all sitting behind lovely landscaped yards, nestled under a dignified canopy of aged branches— they ran past my vision as I ran past them.

But what caught my eye? This bush of overflowing flowers, spilling through a fence. Red. Flowers so red.

Let it be spring!

2010-03-23T15:46:00.003-04:00

"Let it be spring! Come, bubbling, surging tide of sap! Come, rush of creation!" These words, penned by English author D.H. Lawrence, do so well echo the yearnings of every Michigander I know. And rightly so!

Spring is the season of newness of life, a resurrection from the white death-sleep of winter. The trees shake off their icy coats and the ground gives up its first tender stems and stalks. All around us is blossoming health. It seems that nature itself has been roused from a great and deep slumber, and how happy we are to greet its waking!

And yet Spring is also the season of hope. This month we've tasted the longer days and the warmer air, but also the promise of renewal and life to come. We now see only the first buds appearing, but we're confident that they will soon burst into leaf and blossom. Blessed are we who, no matter the season, live in a perpetual Spring of hope. The beauty of this season and the joys of this living are but the foretaste of the new heavens and the new earth.

Come, rush of new creation!

passionate and enduring

2010-03-20T01:19:00.002-04:00

   I had a good friend from college come through town a while back. I hadn't seen Stefan for a few years, but we had maintained contact. Still, there was a lot of catching up to do, a lot of the usual questions: "How's the weather out there?" "How old are we?!" "What's grad school like for you?" The usual stuff. But even while we were talking about those mundane things, I knew that there was something big we were going to end up talking about sooner or later: Stefan's divorce.

   He and his wife met through mutual friends and quickly became close friends themselves, eventually falling in love. They had a huge extravagant wedding-- beautiful, actually. There was nothing to indicate that only a couple years later they'd be separated, filing for a divorce to end their marriage.

   Stefan told me that it wasn't too big of a surprise for him. They'd each had a rough year and it was hard on their marriage. And, he said, they had mentioned from time to time the possibility of divorce, but always in a "but-we-wouldn't-do-that" sort of way. In fact, they were in counseling, trying to work through it. But one day his wife told him, "I want a divorce." And he agreed. And that was the end.

   It was such a painful story to hear him tell. I'm married and the thought of a divorce is really scary. And I could hear the pain in his voice. Divorce was not what he was hoping for, it wasn't what he dreamed about when he proposed, or when they got married, or on their honeymoon. He was hoping for forever, not this.

   It's not what any of us ever hope for, is it? Nobody wants to see their relationship split apart and broken up. The song says (a little too cheerily) that "breaking up is hard to do." Gimme a break! Breaking up is horrible to do. Full of mixed up feelings, regrets, sadness, loneliness, a sense of loss. And an abiding disappointment: This was not what I signed up for....

   What we're looking for -- all of us -- is a love that will last. And it's hard to find. We endure so many broken relationships in our own families, so many franctured friendships, so many romantic failures and painful breakups. And yet, despite the difficulties, we keep searching for the love that will stand the test of time, a love that is both passionate and enduring. There's really only one place to find a love like that.

   There's an ancient and well-known text in the Bible, the testimony of God's friend Jeremiah: "The LORD appeared to us . . . saying, 'I have loved youwith an everlasting love; I have drawn you with lovingkindness." (Jeremiah 31:3) Today you can rest in the knowledge that God has a forever love for you, and it's the same yesterday, today, and forever, a love both passionate and enduring.

Food

2010-03-15T16:45:00.001-04:00

I'm hypoglycemic. It basically means that my body has some difficulty regulating the amount of sugar in my bloodstream. It's annoying.

If it's been too long since nourishment entered my mouth, I start to develop a progressive series of symptoms. My head becomes a little fuzzy and ache-y, I feel weak, I lose precise motor control, my thinking is slow and foggy, my insides feel like inside-outsides. I even completely lost my vision once. And ironically, at these times when I most need food, my appetite for it is GONE. Food makes me want to gag and throw up, but I have to force myself to eat because it's the only way to get healthy again.

"People can't survive on food alone; they need every word that God speaks." Deuteronomy 8:3 // Matthew 4:4

the love that matters

2010-03-12T11:15:00.004-05:00

"The love that matters is His for you - yours for Him may presently exist only in the form of obedience. He will see to the rest."

Letters of C.S. Lewis, p357.

Who is this?

2010-03-05T23:04:00.000-05:00

by Mark.

That day when evening came,

He said to His disciples,

"Let us go over to the other side."

Leaving the crowd behind,

the took Him along, just as He was,

in the boat.

There were also other boats

with Him.

A furious squall came up,

and the waves broke over the boat,

so that it was nearly swamped.

Jesus was in the stern, sleeping

on a cushion.

The disciples woke Him

and said to Him, "Teacher,

don't you care if we drown?"

He got up, rebuked the wind and said

to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!"

Then the wind died down

and it was completely calm.

He said to His disciples,

"Why are you so afraid?

Do you still have no faith?"

They were terrified and asked each other,

"Who is this? Even the wind and the waves

obey Him!"

[mark 4:35-41]

Do you know who this is?
It is Jesus, King of Wind and Wave--
Jesus, King of Earth and Sea,
Jesus, Son of God, Son of Man,
Jesus, loving Friend of Sinners...

buh nuh.

2010-03-03T22:57:00.000-05:00

“buh nuh. buh nUH. bUH NUH. BUH NUH. BUHNUH! REE REE REE REE!!!!!”

—Husband, in an IM message. I read it and look up to see him crawling across the floor from the other room with a mischievous grin on his face. I throw my head back and laugh. Next thing I know, he’s advanced to my chair and has his arms around me making menacing kissing sounds at my face. I laugh more.

It was a good moment.

In the throes of death

2010-03-01T19:01:00.001-05:00

I watched a fly die this afternoon.

I was trying to read a book in the Seminary commons, but a persistent and sporadic buzzing kept distracting me. I looked over to see a fly on its back, about 10 feet from me, buzzing and flailing its little fly legs. It couldn't aright itself. It couldn't fly. It couldn't move. Then it quit struggling, and I thought that was surely the last of the fly. I sort of mourned its death and thought again about the transience of life and what it must be like to be in the last moments of life before death comes...

I returned to my book and shortly thereafter the buzzing started again. This time I cared less about the stupid fly and just wanted to be left to read my book in peace. It buzzed, it flailed, it ceased, it died. And I enjoyed the quiet.

Mark! You changed my life!

2010-02-25T23:54:00.000-05:00

The book of Mark.
It's changed my life not once but twice---

I was a young teenager and over the last several weeks something crazy happened to me. I encountered the word of God: beautiful and full of truth. I encountered the Word of God: beautiful and powerful. I began to pray, to worship, to search the Scripture. Life was changing. As that summer drew to a close, there was a decision point. It was time to go back to school in California which meant that I would be leaving this community of Christian disciples in Washington. . . . I had the hem of Christ's garment in one hand, and my torn fishing net in the other. What to do? To leave Washington meant basically giving up my faith. I knew that to go back home would be to sound a death knell to this new discipleship. But to stay in Washington meant leaving home, leaving my family, leaving my friends and everything I knew.

Then God brought to me Mark 10:29-31.
"'I tell you the truth,' Jesus said, 'no one who has left homes or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel, will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and fields--and with them, persecution) and in the age to come, eternal life. Many that are first will be last, and the last first."

That was it. I knew what I had to do. After some thoughtfulness and trepidation, I phoned my mother to tell her I was moving to Washington. I had become a disciple of Christ.

Stillness. Silence. Secrets. Sunlight.

2010-02-24T01:51:00.002-05:00

The parlor was completely empty.

The thick, dense carpet silenced any sound that dared drop to the floor.

The sunlight drifting through the window revealed the only visible motion:

the motes, swirling and suspended in light, headed neither up nor down. Lost in space. Lost there, right in front of her.

The man next to her, the man touching the top of her hand, he leaned slightly toward her and whispered his great secret.

Inside of her: those few words cut inside of her like a finely sharpened filet knife.

Through the young, pale skin. through the subcutaneous fat, slicing through the fascia and through the lateral abdominal muscles. they cut through the dark and mysterious, lively cavity and cut through to her spine, severing the bundle of nerves at the middle of her back. Her movement was gone, paralyzed by his secret.

Stillness. Silence. Sunlight.

My terror is ordinary

2010-02-12T23:48:00.006-05:00

I'm terrified of being trapped into ordinary life.

I'm absolutely terrified of being trapped into an ordinary life.

Banal, pedestrian, dull, boring, tedious, quotidian, monotonous, uneventful, unremarkable, tiresome, wearisome, uninspired, unimaginative, unexciting, unvaried, repetitive, routine, commonplace, mundane, humdrum, lifeless, insipid, vapid, flat, bland, dry, stale, LAME.

Please, God, remove me as a brand from the smoldering pile of insipid living.

>>This fits in perfectly with my existential crisis http://bit.ly/aKPrye "Your life is Eden."

I'm so guilty of this: afraid of really saying something because I'm afraid of being wrong.

2010-01-21T14:41:00.003-05:00

My friend David Hamstra is always linking me to great, stimulating material. Here's another one of his gems, Vimeo-style.

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

Is it me specifically, or academia in general, or my generation as a whole (or all of the above) that's guilty of this?

"The people were amazed at His teaching, because He taught them as one who had authority." Mark 1:22

in peace such war

2010-01-15T23:38:00.002-05:00

I live, and yet methinks I do not breathe;
I thirst and drink; I drink and thirst again;
I sleep, and yet I dream I am awake;
I hope for that I have; I have and want;
I sing and sigh; I love and hate at once.
O tell me restless soul, what uncouth jar
Doth cause such want in store, in peace such war?

The author of this lovely gem is anonymous, but it very well could be any one of us; I know it could be me. Restless. Unsatisfied. Fitful. Unsettled. Anxious. That's me, at least lately. I feel so tumulted! (I'm making that word up.) I feel sad then sweet then carefree then obligated then afraid then happy then needy then angry then hurt then something else and something else again.

God is really shaking me up, and I'm on to Him. You know how we read the story of Elijah hiding in the cave and we always say, "God wasn't in the wind. God wasn't in the earthquake. God wasn't in the fire. He was in the little quiet voice"? Yeah, well, sometimes God comes to ME in wind and fire. Sometimes He shakes the earth right beneath my feet, sending me reeling and confused. All the porcelain plates in my emotional cabinets have been rattled and smashed. There is a crack in the wall of my habitation. The message is: Find a new place to live.

But I would rather not find a new place to live. I feel that this old place had been quite comfortable; not perfect, prone to leaking and a little exposed to the elements, but it was familiar. And I like familiar!

God is calling me into deeper surrender, and I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid of what I might have to give up, afraid of who I might become, afraid of what that new future might look like, afraid of not being up to the task, yet afraid of NOT trying it. I'm afraid to be a real disciple of Jesus. All of the sudden all these hymns sound so scary, the story of James and John leaving their nets has become frightening. I want to avoid it, avoid it all. Frankly, I want to avoid HIM. Stop calling me! Leave me alone! Let me splash in the shallow waters! The water is so warm here and so safe here. . . .

I just got really upset at Joshua, and all my upsetness seemed to come from nowhere really but when it came, it really came, and it shot out of my fingertips and moved through my feet and poured out of my mouth and spilled over my eyelashes. But now that all that anger has gone back out to tide and left only puddles around my feet, I realize that I wasn't angry at Joshua. I'm just reeling from this tumult, I'm just tired of this struggle. I want solid ground. I want a house-- even if it has to be a new one.

   Now of that long pursuit
   Comes on at hand the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
   "And is thy earth so marred,
   Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
   . . . .
All which I took from thee I did but take,
   Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
   All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
   Rise, clasp My hand, and come."

   Halts by me that footfall:
   Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

--Francis Thompson

Feasts

2010-01-13T04:34:00.004-05:00

Last year a wealthy widow in India spent $37,500 to throw a feast for 100,000 people. Phuljharia Kunwar was 80 years old at the time and felt that she might not live much longer. With the thought of death before her, she threw this feast, hoping that it would please the gods and secure for her a place in heaven. One man who attended the feast told reporters that "She was worried that no one would care about throwing a feast after her death." And so at the end of her life Kunwar spent a part of her fortune on a good deed, seeking a legacy for her life here and hope for the life hereafter. She threw a feast hoping that it would get her into heaven.

In the kingdom of God, this picture is reversed. We see Jesus inviting us to a banquet that He hosts, and if we say yes to His invitation He grants us meaning in this life and a place by His side in eternity. What a deal! "Then the angel said to me, 'Write: "Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!"'" (Revelation 19:9)

Ecological Facts

2010-01-01T23:04:00.005-05:00

clouds are not made of cotton, as children suppose.
no, they are 95% goose feathers, 5% down,
with soft flannel underbellies.

four authors reflect on The Coming

2009-12-25T15:15:00.010-05:00

I. Simeon's Song by Luke
"God, you can now release your servant;
   release me in peace as you promised.
  With my own eyes I've seen your salvation;
   it's now out in the open for everyone to see:
  A God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations,
   and of glory for your people Israel."

Jesus' father and mother were speechless with surprise
at these words. Simeon went on to bless them, and
said to Mary his mother,

"This child marks both the failure and
   the recovery of many in Israel,
A figure misunderstood and contradicted--
   the pain of a sword-thrust through you--
But the rejection will force honesty,
   as God reveals who they really are."

II. The Sun Comes Up by Matthew
When Jesus got word that John had been arrested, he returned to Galilee.
He moved from his hometown, Nazareth, to the lakeside village Capernaum,
nestled at the base of the Zebulun and Naphtali hills.
This move completed Isaiah's sermon:

Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali,
   road to the sea, over Jordan,
   Galilee, crossroads for the nations.
People sitting out their lives in the dark
   saw a huge light;
   Sitting in the dark, dark country of death,
   they watched the sun come up.

This Isaiah-prophesied sermon came to life in Galilee
the moment Jesus started preaching. He picked up where John left off:
"Change your life. God's Kingdom is here."

III. The Real Drama by Mark
John wore a camel-hair habit, tied at the waist
with a leather belt. He ate locusts and wild field honey.
As he preached he said,

"The real action comes next: The star in this drama,
to whom I'm a mere stagehand, will change your life.
I'm baptizing you here in the river,
turning your old life in for a kingdom life.
His baptism--a holy baptism by the Holy Spirit--
will change you from the inside out."

At this time, Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee
and was baptized by John in the Jordan.
The moment he came out of the water,
he saw the sky split open and God's Spirit,
looking like a dove, come down on him.
Along with the Spirit, a voice:

"You are my Son, chosen and marked by my love,
pride of my life."

IV. The Life-Light by John
The Life-Light was the real thing:
   Every person entering Life
   he brings into Light.
He was in the world,
   the world was there through him,
   and yet the world didn't even notice.
He came to his own people,
   but they didn't want him.
But whoever did want him,
   who believed he was who he claimed
   and would do what he said,
These are the God-begotten,
   not blood-begotten,
   not flesh-begotten,
   not sex-begotten.
The Word became flesh and blood,
   and moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
   the one-of-a-kind glory,
   like Father, like Son,,
   Generous inside and out,
   true from start to finish.

These four selections come from the writers of the four biblical gospels: Luke, Matthew, Mark, and John. Each of them uses either poetic language, poetic form, or both to describe the significance of the Coming, the advent of the Christ. Each author presents a unique facet of Christmas, something worth meditating on during the season when we think it's all manger and swaddling cloths.

The paraphrases are taken from Eugene Peterson's The Message.

Craziness All Together.

2009-12-16T14:51:00.000-05:00

The house is full

of craziness, but it's all spread out.

I want the craziness all together.

Crazy Dad is in the garage,

drinking Southern Comfort

from a plastic cup and deriving,

I think, very little comfort,

except for the Santa hat he's wearing,

which makes him feel like a comedian,

which makes him feel funny and attractive,

which makes him feel happy.

Crazy Sister is in the TV room

with the TV blaring. She's talking loudly to Crazy Aunt

and is using her public voice and her public face

which scrunches up and laughs at what is not funny

and which is perfectly painted

with brown eyebrows and very red Cupid's bow lips.

Her son toddles around the coffee table

and Sister unconsciously grabs for him before he falls

onto the dirty rug.

Crazy Stepmom is in the very white kitchen.

Her blue eyes are lit up like illuminated tree ornaments,

her face plastered with surprise,

even though she's not surprised. That's actually her

"I'm having fun" face. She chats with her sister

and cackles at the stories about dogs and traffic cops.

She's wearing a beret and eating rum balls.

A little sugar sticks to her lipstick. Now her mouth

is an ornament too.

Crazy Cousin is wearing a lot of clothes

because he's very thin, but his headphones are thick

and they're pumping high-decibal trance music

into his ears. He sits on the living room step,

playing with his DJ equipment and thinking about

his cats back home in Boise.

Crazy Brother and Crazy Uncle and

Crazy Other Assorted Relatives are all milling about

the house doing mostly separate activities.

It's Christmas Day, but no one seems to notice.

Green olives and cheddar cheese and mixed drinks

sit for hours on the kitchen table. At least they are all

together.

I'm breaking my own rule and posting this, a poem that I authored. Don't tell anyone; I'm afraid it will look narcissistic.

Christ's Nativity

2009-12-14T01:01:00.000-05:00

by Henry Vaughn

Awake, glad heart! get up and sing!

It is the birth-day of thy King.

Awake! awake!

The Sun doth shake

Light from his locks, and all the way

Breathing perfumes, doth spice the day.

Awake, awake! hark how th’ wood rings;

Winds whisper, and the busy springs

A concert make;

Awake! awake!

Man is their high-priest, and should rise

To offer up the sacrifice.

I would I were some bird, or star,

Flutt’ring in woods, or lifted far

Above this inn

And road of sin!

Then either star or bird should be

Shining or singing still to thee.

I would I had in my best part

Fit rooms for thee! or that my heart

Were so clean as

Thy manger was!

But I am all filth, and obscene;

Yet, if thou wilt, thou canst make clean.

Sweet Jesu! will then. Let no more

This leper haunt and soil thy door!

Cure him, ease him,

O release him!

And let once more, by mystic birth,

The Lord of life be born in earth.

A compact poem that startles me in several places -- "Man is their high-priest," "I am all filth, and obscene" "mystic birth". And it startles me to remember that Christ came not only to lie in a manger in human flesh, but to give me His flesh and bread and His blood as drink, that I may abide in Him and He in me. O Wondrous mystery!

To Jesus on His Birthday

2009-12-11T15:56:00.000-05:00

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

For this your mother sweated in the cold,
For this you bled upon the bitter tree:
A yard of tinsel ribbon bought and sold;
A paper wreath; a day at home for me.
The merry bells ring out, the people kneel;
Up goes the man of God before the crowd;
With voice of honey and with eyes of steel
He drones your humble gospel to the proud.
Nobody listens. Less than the wind that blows
Are all your words to us you died to save.
O Prince of Peace! O Sharon's dewy Rose!
How mute you lie within your vaulted grave.
The stone the angel rolled away with tears
Is back upon your mouth these thousand years.

Words absolutely cannot express how much I love this poem. The stunning imagery, the meter and rhyme, and the absolute ring of truthfulness about it. This is a mournful sonnet. A beautiful, mournful sonnet to Jesus on his birthday.

Advent

2009-12-08T12:24:00.005-05:00

by Mary Jo Salter

Wind whistling, as it does

in winter, and I think

nothing of it until

it snaps a shutter off

her bedroom window, spins

it over the roof and down

to crash on the deck in back,

like something out of Oz.

We look up, stunned—then glad

to be safe and have a story,

characters in a fable

we only half-believe.

Look, in my surprise

I somehow split a wall,

the last one in the house

we’re making of gingerbread.

We’ll have to improvise:

prop the two halves forward

like an open double door

and with a tube of icing

cement them to the floor.

Five days until Christmas,

and the house cannot be closed.

When she peers into the cold

interior we’ve exposed,

she half-expects to find

three magi in the manger,

a mother and her child.

She half-expects to read

on tablets of gingerbread

a line or two of Scripture,

as she has every morning

inside a dated shutter

on her Advent calendar.

She takes it from the mantel

and coaxes one fingertip

under the perforation,

as if her future hinges

on not tearing off the flap

under which a thumbnail picture

by Raphael or Giorgione,

Hans Memling or David

of apses, niches, archways,

cradles a smaller scene

of a mother and her child,

of the lidded jewel-box

of Mary’s downcast eyes.

Flee into Egypt, cries

the angel of the Lord

to Joseph in a dream,

for Herod will seek the young

child to destroy him. While

she works to tile the roof

with shingled peppermints,

I wash my sugared hands

and step out to the deck

to lug the shutter in,

a page tom from a book

still blank for the two of us,

a mother and her child.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

2009-12-07T12:55:00.014-05:00

The first in a series of works by other authors which I am unimaginatively calling "Poems for the Christmas Season." We begin with one of the most well known poems in modern American literature.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost.

Jesus went around saying crazy things.

2009-12-02T13:56:00.004-05:00

"You must be born again." How are we supposed to do that?

"Drink my blood and eat my flesh; in this there is life." Eww.

"If you'd like to be in first place, go to the last. Choose the worst seat, become the servant." Unrespectable.

"Love your enemies, do good to those that hate you. If someone hits you in the face, offer the other side your face for his fist." Unhealthy, unrealistic.

"You must hate your father and mother. I didn't come to calm conflict; I came to bring a sword." Wha?!

"Whoever tries to keep her life will lose it, and whoever loses her life will preserve it."
How can we lose what we're hanging on to, but get what we've let go? And Jesus Christ!-- Did you come to bring us life or to bring us death? I thought you came as Life to bring us life, but you want us to let go of it? . . . You are asking us to die in order to live, to follow you to the grave, to follow you into the grave, to lay down in the grave, to be wrapped up in the grave cloths, to close our eyes in that tomb and to LET GO OF LIFE. And then in that moment of death, here comes the angel of white who forces the earth to tremble, rolling away the stone. We receive not mere life, but Resurrection Life.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, she must deny herself and take up her cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save her life will lose it, but whoever loses her life for me will find it."

I want to follow You, Jesus. Right into the grave. Right into the light of life.

The Most Dangerous Woman

2009-11-30T14:49:00.007-05:00

The most dangerous woman on earth is the woman who has reckoned with her own death. All women die; few women ever really live.*

Finding out that you have a terminal illness is possibly the worst moment of a person's life, to be sitting there, on the edge of the doctor's hard plastic office chair and hear her say in a low voice, "I'm very sorry." In that moment, is it life that flashes before your eyes? Or is it death?-- death flashing before your eyes?

But why should she be so very sorry? You're dying. I'm dying. We're all dying. Forever walking toward the grave, though lifted up by life and living all along the way. . . . I know I don't have to wait for the sympathetic murmur of a physician for this. My death sentence came when I took my first breath, 26 years ago. Death will come. I know it will.

So now I am free. I am free to live recklessly. I can throw my life into other people, throw my life away for the poor or the proud or the mean or the hungry. I can be used up for the Gospel, poured out on the feet of the King, washed away by ridiculous acts of grace. I am free to be dangerous, a dangerous woman.

*John Eldredge's words: "The most dangerous man on earth is the man who has reckoned with his own death. All men die; few men ever really live." But I can't ever hope to be a dangerous man; I hope instead to be a very dangerous woman.

"How's it going?" Or "Sometimes Life is Just Good."

2009-11-19T01:00:00.002-05:00

So I'm re-reading Nouwen's "In the Name of Jesus."

2009-11-10T23:17:00.001-05:00

I sat on my couch one evening in the dark, fast forwarding a tape. As the casette advanced, the numbers on my stereo rapidly counted up from 0000 to 0005, then 0027 (the year of Christ’s baptism), then 0034 (the end of the 70 weeks), then 0095 (Revelation penned on Patmos), then quickly to 0538 . . . 0695 . . . 1310 . . . and before I knew it the stereo was counting right past 1844 and 1863. Only a minute later it was at 1922 (my grandfather’s birth), then 1957 (my mother’s birth), then 1983—the year of my own birth. And in 6 seconds I was moving from Idaho to California with pneumonia. Seven seconds after that it was 1996 and I was coming into the faith and rearranging my life around Christ. A mere 10 seconds later it was 2006 and I was sitting on my couch one evening in the dark, fast forwarding a tape.

Life moves so quickly.

I am 26 years old, but I find myself often preoccupied with thoughts of death and the transience of life. I don’t think that it is an unhealthy thing to be thinking about. The reality is that unless the Lord intervenes with His advent, I’ll live through maybe 70 or 80 winters and summers (or fewer, perhaps, should an accident or disease overtake me). It’s not an awfully long time, actually. Not long at all.

Nouwen says, “I came face to face with the question, ‘Did becoming older bring me closer to Jesus?’” The question is so painful. I think the pain originates in a place of regret. I have been following the Lord for 10 years now . . . why am I not closer to Him? Because though the years seem to pass with increasing rapidity, this year and last year and every year before it is made up of the same simple building blocks: months, weeks, days, hours, minutes. Moment by moment they pass through our hands into the past. Time moves at the same speed for all creatures. So to ask the question, “Has becoming older brought me closer to Jesus?” and to hear the reply in mournful tones, “Not nearly close enough,” is to recognize wasted hours and days for what they are.

The mourning for what has been lost—opportunity with Christ, for Christ, in Christ—is not much soothed by outward success. Only if we move quickly enough to avoid any introspection will praise and recognition make us feel good about a life that has been spent ignoring our Lord. This is why Nouwen was unsatisfied, even though “everyone was saying that I was doing well.” And it’s why I feel unsatisfied, too.

“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Moses, in Psalm 90:12.

My husband and I have this game.

2009-11-01T22:50:00.001-05:00

We're not always playing it... and yet we are. The goal is to be as stealthy as possible, to be wily and artful and devious, to really sneak up on the other person, and when they least expect it, express your heartfelt love!

Recent ploys have gone something like this:

"I don't know if you had heard... I was reading this online today and I love you."

"Hey! I know you're tired right now and you just settled in, but I needed to ask you something important, something you might not want to hear, but it's important to me. [Serious silence.] Who do I love?" He knows the routine: "You love me!" And I always reply, "That's right, Joshi. I love you. You're the only one for me."

"Honey!! What time is it?!? I just remembered-- I love you!"

"Ugh. I have such a headache right now. Would you do me a favor? [as he reaches for my water glass] Could you tell me who I love?" Yeah, and then we have the same conversation: "You love me!" "That's right. I love you. You're the only one for me."

Winner and loser? Well, I think we're tied :)