Thursday, January 31, 2008

Psalm 23

There are times when I wish I had a better memory. Specifically, I wish I could remember Bible verses better. It seems like, with all the time I spent in church, in Sunday School, in Christian school, at Christian summer camp, and as part of a youth group, I'd remember Bible verses better than I do. But I don't.

I guess this became apparent to me one day as I was trying to remember Psalm 23. For the life of me, I could hardly remember the whole chapter. This is unfortunate, because it's a beautiful chapter. Here it is:

Psalm 23

1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

You know, I was able to remember part of that Psalm, but I kept coming back to one small part of it. "He restoreth my soul." I love that part. "He restoreth my soul." I think of it, and I just feel the possibility of a renewal of my mind and heart, of a real rebirth in the Spirit, of another chance when all hope seems gone.

"He restoreth my soul." Maybe that's all I needed to remember that day. Maybe my bad memory wasn't such a bad thing.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

A Sunday Psalm

I've already said that I love to read Psalms at night. I sometimes read it in the morning too. There's something really nice about having my breakfast and reading my Bible. It's a good start to the day and a real help in troubling or stressful times.

One Psalm that I go back to is Psalm 121. When I read it, I just feel like everything will be fine, like there's nothing to worry about, like anything I'm worried about is God's concern too. And, if God is looking out for me, I really don't have much to worry about. That's maybe a simple way to look at things, but sometimes simple is better. Sometimes it is that simple faith that moves us through the difficult days, the hard days. And sometimes it's that simple faith which assures us that those days won't last.

So, here is Psalm 121. I hope you love it too, that it strengthens your faith, that it gives you something to hold onto, some assurance that you might now need.

1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?

2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;

4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;

8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

The 100th Post

Well, here I am. My 100th post. This feels like some sort of milestone. I mean, not a really big one like getting my first car or graduating college or finding my favorite seven-pound dog at the animal shelter. But, a milestone.

I once read that for the 100th post you're supposed to write 100 things about yourself. That seems a bit too time consuming for me and much too boring for all of you, Greta especially. She's not much of a reader. She's more of a napper.

So, instead of 100 things about myself, I'll go ten. Ten things that mean a lot to me right now or just made me smile as of late. Ten things, random and off the top of my head, that I think are pretty neat. Here they are!

1. The other day, as I was going up the stairs from the Undergraduate Library to the Main Library, I looked out the window and noticed a place where snow had fallen through a grate and just collected there. It reminded me of the verse in Job where God is speaking to Job and says,

"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail"

It made me smile to think of the storehouses of snow and to see this little collection of snow.

2. Starting next week, I'll be a volunteer at a local pregnancy center. I'm really excited about this. I'm actually going to be a counselor of sorts, so pray for me. No, really. Do pray for me. I'm guessing that this position will be really rewarding, but I know it's going to be tough.

3. Last night before bed I was reading part of Psalm 119. I've never actually read it before, even though I was assigned to read it in elementary school. I guess now's as good a time to confess as ever. But, I'm glad I have started reading it because it's an amazing Psalm. So far, my favorite part of the Psalm is Lamedh:

"89 Your word, O LORD, is eternal;
it stands firm in the heavens.

90 Your faithfulness continues through all generations;
you established the earth, and it endures.

91 Your laws endure to this day,
for all things serve you.

92 If your law had not been my delight,
I would have perished in my affliction.

93 I will never forget your precepts,
for by them you have preserved my life.

94 Save me, for I am yours;
I have sought out your precepts.

95 The wicked are waiting to destroy me,
but I will ponder your statutes.

96 To all perfection I see a limit;
but your commands are boundless."

It's just so beautiful and true and good. I really love it. I hope you love it too!

4. The Screwtape Letters. That's pretty much all I need to say. Oh, I'll write more about the book later. I'm not quite finished with it. But, it is an amazing, amazing book. I highly recommend it. Highly.

5. I'm pretty much addicted to Confessions of a Pioneer Woman and The Pioneer Woman Cooks. Seriously. She's funny and great. And her recipes are simple and tasty. If you were around our house at Christmas, you might have had some of her Best Chocolate Sheet Cake Ever. It seriously is the best ever!

6. I joined a Bible Study at my church. It's a small group for ladies, and we're talking about freedom in Christ. It's a nice group of ladies, and the topic is fantastic.

7. I love this quote from St. Augustine:

"You are great, O Lord, and greatly to be praised: great is your power and your wisdom is without measure. And man, so small a part of your creation, wants to praise you: this man, though clothed with mortality and bearing the evidence of sin and the proof that you withstand the proud. Despite everything, man, though but a small a part of your creation, wants to praise you. You yourself encourage him to delight in your praise, for you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."

I added the italics. That's my favorite part. It makes me smile.

8. I really like Sara Groves and Phil Wickham. In all honesty, I never, ever thought I'd really like Christian music, but those two (as well as many others) are actually good. I mean, it's actually good music, and I like it, and it makes me feel calm and happy.

9. I love this verse. It's Galatians 1:10:

"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."

It's something I like to think about. Who am I living for? Who am I trying to please or impress? Whose favor am I trying to win? Whose will am I following? Whose laws do I value? Really, we've only got one shot here on earth, so we might as well live it for the One who gave us life, hope, and salvation.

On a lighter note, I think of this when I'm in my car singing along to Sara Groves. I figure it's okay if the people in the car next to me look over and smile. I might as well keep singing.

10. I love anyone who read this whole fairly self-indulgent blog! Oh well, anyone who even accidentally stumbled onto this blog and then quickly left it. I love you just as much as the people who read the whole thing! Really, I do.

Love,

Sara

Friday, January 25, 2008

Present Tense

Sometimes I ride the bus to school. It's kind of a hassle to plan around, but it beats finding and paying for a parking space on campus. And, even though it's a hassle, it's sometimes really nice to ride the bus.

When I'm on the bus, I have to actually be surrounded by all the people I'd normally drive right past, too hurried to notice anything about them. I see that some people ride the bus so much that they've gotten to know the bus drivers well, and those people tell the bus drivers about their Christmas breaks and their families. And, when I ride the bus, I get to take a break from concentrating on driving and actually notice what's going on around me.

I get to just be right there, not so worried about how I'm going to get to where I'm going because someone else is taking care of it. It's a moment in which I can focus on the present, rather than on what's up ahead.

Lately, I've been reading The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. It's a collection of letters from one demon, Screwtape, to another, Wormwood. Screwtape gives instructions on how to steer a Christian away from following his faith. I always think of this book as "that book that people start but never finish because it makes them nervous." I can understand the nervousness, but the book really gives an amazing way of looking at Christianity.

One excerpt that stood out to me was the following. Keep in mind that "the Enemy" Screwtape writes of is God.

"The humans live in time but our Enemy destines them to eternity. He therefore, I believe, wants them to attend chiefly to two things, to eternity itself, and to that point of time which they call the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity. Of the present moment, and of it only, humans have an experience analogous to the experience which our Enemy has of reality as a whole; in it alone freedom and actuality are offered them. He would therefore have them continually concerned with eternity (which means being concerned with Him) or with the Present--either meditating on their eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiveing the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure" (75-76).

It makes me wonder about our need to always look so far ahead, to spend time imagining a life which is not yet ours, a future which may never actually happen to us. I think that so many of our anxieties and disappointments are tied to that habit of constantly looking forward to an unpredictable future while forgetting to spend our time appreciating the Present that we are currently living in.

Maybe that's why we're reminded in Matthew 6:34,

"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

I agree that today has enough troubles. But, today also has enough beauty, and it has enough happiness, and it has enough love. Perhaps we will see all of those wonderful things, even amid the trouble, when we take the time to enjoy today without looking forward, with apprenhesion or excitement, to tomorrow.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

High Fidelity

There was a time when I went on a carb-free diet. I ate a lot of cheese and meat and a smattering of vegetables. But absolutely no bread or sugar came anywhere near my mouth. On the upside, I lost a ton of weight in almost no time. But it was miserable. It was miserable because I absolutely love bread. In fact, there are few things that I like more than a nice chunk of tasty bread with maybe a little cheese, preferably something blue or smoky, to go with it.

My favorite bread is challah. It's dense but still soft in texture, a little sweet but nothing overpowering. And, because it's braided, a loaf of challah just looks beautiful.

Over the break, I learned to make challah. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I had a good recipe to follow, and it even gave me pictures to illustrate the whole process of braiding. But, even though it wasn't too difficult and even though the instructions were very clear, there was still some mystery to the whole process of making bread. I had to mix together all of these simple ingredients--eggs, water, oil, yeast, honey, flour--and expect that, simple as these things are, they would be transformed into a beautiful loaf of challah.

It seemed a little far-fetched to believe it could happen, and my patience and faith in the recipe were, of course, put to the test while I waited for the bread to rise. But it did rise, puffed up by yeast, only to be punched down, reworked, cut into four pieces, braided, coated with an egg wash, and placed in the oven. And, all of those simple ingredients really did transform into a loaf of challah.

The whole process is a bit of a mystery to me. I mean, there's a good explanation of the process of making bread, something that makes sense of how the yeast reacts to the heat and the moisture. But, making bread requires a bit of faith and a bit of patience. It requires careful consideration and attention to the weather, the humidity, the heat of the room. None of these things can be left to chance or the ingredients won't become what they're intended to be. If the dough is too sticky or too dry, it's difficult to braid, and then the beauty of the challah is lost, because it's in those confusing braided knots that the bread has its densest texture and its real aesthetic.

Even though I can appreciate the mystery of bread making, I'm not generally one who loves mystery. I like to understand things, to know the answer to things, right now. Sometimes this is a negative trait. I sometimes try, almost compulsively, to make sense of things, to understand things even when there is no ready explanation. This is a very difficult trait to deal with when one is thinking about God, and it was a trait that became apparent as I sensed that God was trying to get my attention.

When I say that I wasn't happy about returning to Christianity, I'm not lying. I was confused about what it meant to be a Christian, and I wasn't really sure I wanted to be one. I mean, I wasn't sure that I wanted to be one of those Christians for whom Christianity actually meant something, one of those Christians who really believed it all. There was a conversation that played in my head. Sometimes it was a conversation with God; sometimes it was a conversation with myself. But, it went something like this:

"Fine, I'll be a Christian. I'll stop doing whatever God says I shouldn't do. I'll start going to church. I'll pray. I'll believe in God, in Jesus, in the Holy Spirit. I'll say and actually believe the Apostles' Creed. I'll do all of those things, but I'm not going to believe that."

Whatever that was would change, depending on whatever it was that didn't make sense to me or whatever it was that I felt particularly strong about at the moment. That was not just one but many different things. That came up more than once. That came up a lot.

That, whatever it was, had formed a strong barrier around my heart, and it was working very hard to only let in those things which made sense to me, sense as I had understood it for so long. But, there must have been some cracks in this barrier. Because, as I began to pray and read my Bible and talk to other people (like those Christians who actually believed this stuff), that came to make less sense to me than God's Word.

And, somewhere along the way, I learned that I was believing all this stuff, not because I felt obligated to out of fear, but because I felt compelled to out of love. As Donald Miller writes in Searching for God Knows What:

"Jesus was always, and I mean always, talking about love, about people, about relationships, and He never broke anything into steps or formulas. What if, because we were constantly trying to dissect His message, we were missing a blatant invitation? I began to wonder if becoming a Christian did not work more like falling in love than agreeing with a list if true principles...What if the gospel of Jesus was an invitation to know God?" (46).

I love how he writes this because, though I really believe in those true principles, they don't make sense to me out of the context of love. And, when I found a love for God and a love for Jesus, I finally found a love for His true principles. The conversation in my head continued, but my protests were answered with, well, truth. I came to see God's love for me, for all of us, in His rules. And, when I started to see it as love, He started to show me answers. It's as if I, puffed up with all my understanding and intellect, would refuse to believe, only to be punched down and reworked. Allowed to become that which I was intended to be.

And, I think that is the mystery that we can't understand until we somehow find that love or, perhaps, allow ourselves to feel that love, to let that love come through the cracks in the barriers that guard our hearts. Because, when I felt that love, I didn't feel as if I was following a set of rules or believing a set of principles that had no purpose or made no sense. It felt more like accepting the mystery of God and His Word and asking Him to explain who He is to me, rather than me trying to tell Him who He is or trying to lean on my own understanding.

It seems that when we make it through the mystery, through the confusing times, while still holding onto a faith that God is true and faithful to His Word, that we move closer to really loving Him. We begin to understand that those confusing times contain the greatest joy of discovery, the greatest depth of truth. Sometimes it is when we hold onto faith through those most confusing times that we really learn to be faithful to a God who always will be faithful to us.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Another Confession

There are times when I think that all my beliefs are silly, that they could be easily disproved. There are times when I think that a few well-articulated arguments could explain away much of what I believe.

The strange thing is though, that even though I know that, it doesn't make me believe any less. It doesn't make my beliefs any weaker. In fact, it doesn't really affect them at all.

I know that sounds odd. I know that sounds as if I've given up on reason and rational thought. I really haven't.

It just seems to me that there must be an absolute, that there must be something that is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). It seems that for us to have any sort of chance in life, there must be some possibility of redemption, some hope for rebirth and renewal of our hearts and minds.

And somehow, despite all argument and reason, I know that absolute, that hope for the redemption of my life, is Jesus. Donald Miller talks about becoming a Christian as being much like falling in love, and I have to agree with him. Because, like falling in love, much of it makes little sense. There is simply an awareness of being pulled toward something much larger than yourself, and despite all protestations and all inner argument, there is no way to fight falling in love.

And that is why I don't really worry so much about the arguments. I can no more write up an equation for why I believe what I believe than I could write up an equation to explain falling in love. But, it doesn't make it any less real. Maybe it makes it even more real, as it always seems that we're more affected by that which touches our hearts and souls than that which appeals to our reasonable selves.

Isn't it in our hearts and souls that we need the hope of redemption? Isn't it our hearts which allow us to fall in love, to really know God and have a relationship with Him?

So, I haven't given up on rational thought, but I have decided to have an open heart, to realize that His ways are not my ways, to choose to believe and choose to love. Maybe I'm odd, but, as Flannery O'Connor said, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd."

A Goodnight Psalm

I try to read at least one chapter of Psalms each day. I'd like to say that I read them because I'm such a dedicated Bible scholar, but I'm really not. I really just read the Psalms because they're soothing. I like to read them right before I go to sleep because they remind me that God is watching over me, that I am safe and loved. When I read the Psalms, I always fall in love with their poetry, but I also feel like, in reading them, the truth is being spoken to my heart and soul. And all of that makes me feel calm and ready to sleep.

So, tonight, I thought I'd post a Psalm that I read just a little bit ago. I hope that it gives you some peace and good dreams if you're reading it tonight, or that it maybe gives you the calm you need to face the day if you're reading it tomorrow.

Here is a Psalm for you.

Psalm 46

1 God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.

2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

3 though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
Selah

4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.

5 God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.

6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

7 The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah

8 Come and see the works of the LORD,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.

9 He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear,
he burns the shields with fire.

10 "Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."

11 The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Ache

Lately, I've been listening to Sara Groves a lot, and, as usual, I keep coming back to just a few songs from the CD, playing them over and over, thinking about the lyrics, singing along. One of the songs that keeps speaking to me is "I Saw What I Saw." Here is the song and its video:



The lyrics that keep coming back to me are:

"I saw what I saw and I can't forget it;
I heard what I heard and I can't go back;
I know what I know and I can't deny it.

Something on the road, cut me to the soul."

When I think of those lyrics, they send me back to the words that Simeon spoke to Mary when he saw Jesus. Remember that the Holy Spirit had revealed to Simeon that Simeon would not die until he saw the Messiah, and, upon seeing Jesus, Simeon knew that the Holy Spirit had been faithful. Simeon knew that he had, in fact, seen the Savior, and he thanked God for this gift. But then Simeon spoke to Mary saying,

"This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too" (Luke 2:34-25).

I think of Simeon's words because it seems to me that when we have an experience with Jesus, we know that there may be pain, that our souls will be pierced and never remain the same. That our spirits will be changed. That what logic and reason had once spoken to us will be transformed by the understanding of the Spirit, the guidance and comfort given to us by Christ.

Sometimes, when I think about religion, the word that comes to my head is "ossified." I think of the ways in which our flesh and hearts turn to bone, become hardened over time and unreceptive to the fact that our souls should ache on seeing the pain of others, the fact that our hearts should feel a bit broken.

Or I think of how we can become hardened against belief, becoming distrustful of the ache inside our hearts and souls, acknowledging to ourselves that this hole in us needs to be filled but never knowing or acknowledging that we have a God-shaped hole that cannot be filled in any other way but through allowing God to enter the parts of our hearts we give no one else access too. Because, it is in those places that we most need the love that only God can give, the kind of love that cannot be taken back, the kind of love that never leaves us or forsakes us.

It is this kind of love that lets us know that it is safe for our hearts to break for ourselves and for others because we know that we have a heavenly Father who will comfort us in our pain, who will bind up our wounds. William Barclay paraphrases the second Beatitude as,

"O the bliss of the man whose heart is broken for the world's suffering and for his own sin, for out of his sorrow he will find the joy of God."

It is a pain of the heart and soul which acknowledges a need for God. And, even before that need is acknowledged, God is there waiting, waiting to offer us joy.

I guess I should say that, if I'm really honest, none of this would have made sense to me a while ago. In fact, I would have thought that the author of these words was a little strange. And, honestly, that's being kind. I probably would have dismissed this as a bunch of overly-religious ramblings that had nothing to do with me, but, as in the song, "Something on the road, cut me to the soul."

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Why We Do What We Do

When I was young, I prayed without really thinking about it. That is to say, I prayed with a belief that my prayers would be heard and answered, with a faith that God really was up there in heaven listening to me.

But, over time, my rational side won out. I didn't pray so much. I didn't see the point to any of it really. If God heard me, it didn't matter much to me because I never heard anything back from Him. None of it really made much sense. Didn't God know what He wanted for my life anyways, and, if He knew that sort of thing already, what sense would it make for me to pray?

And the prayers became fewer and fewer. Until there really were no prayers. But, sometimes when things got really, really hard, I would pray. I'm not sure why I would pray. There was some sort of desperation, some sort of finding myself at the end of my rope, at the end of myself, that compelled me to turn the only way I hadn't before. And that way was up, toward God, toward heaven and all those things I hadn't thought of much before.

And then I would pray. I would pray because there was nothing left to do, nowhere else to go. I would pray even though all logic and common sense told me I was foolish. I would pray even though it was a mystery, even though it made no sense to me.

Surely, I must do something. Surely saying a few words to a God I cannot see isn't enough. Surely there must be some concrete action I can take that would be more sensible than turning to God.

That's what I thought then, but lately it seems to be the actions that make the least sense which sometimes do the most good.

Awhile ago I was remembering a professor I had in college. He taught Philosophy, and I took a few classes from him. One day, like most everyday, he was telling us a story from his own life. When he was a young boy, he learned that a young woman who his family knew was going to become a nun. She'd spent much time in discernment and felt called to this life, and she was taking vows to become a cloistered nun. My professor, as a young child, wondered why a young woman, a woman who could have any future she chose, would choose such an austere life. After all, hers would not be simply the life of a nun, but the life of a cloistered nun.

He asked his mother why the young woman wanted to become a nun, and his mother simply said, "She's doing it for you."

When I think of that story, I feel the depth of that young woman's sacrificial love, and it makes me think that that sort of love, the love that doesn't make any rational or logical sense, is what the Christian life is about. That is the sort of love God has for us, the sort of love that would send a Son to die for our sins. As Romans 5:7-8 says, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

That's a love that doesn't make sense, a love too big to wrap my mind around. But, He was doing it for us.

And, in knowing this love was given to us, as undeserving as we were and still are, we can only respond in faith. It is that faith which compels the young woman to join religious orders, to spend her life in quiet contemplation of her God, to give her body as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1). It is that faith which brought that young woman to daily prayer and devotion, prayers to God for people like us, people on the outside who may or may not have even believed. And yet, she prayed for us, undeserving as we might have been of those prayers.

It is that faith that causes me, when I come to the end of myself and all that I can humanly do, to turn to God. Not because saying words to the sky and air gives me a sense of peace, but because I have faith that there is a God who hears my prayers, that there really is a God who, like a heavenly Father, guides my path even when I can't see Him, even when I'm quite alone.

Like my professor, I used to wonder why people chose a spiritual life. I wondered why, when there were so many things on earth to do and see and worry about, people chose to look up to a God who may or may not have been there, to pray to Him and ask Him for help and guidance.

I didn't know then, but I understand now. All along, those people who chose the spiritual life, who chose to humble themselves and pray to God, knew God would be there for them when they reached the end of themselves, when they trusted Him and put their faith in Him. They turned to Him in prayer because they believed Him, because they loved Him enough to trust Him.

And, they did it for me.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

New Favorite Song

Over the last couple of days, I have been loving the song "When the Saints" by Sara Groves. And I don't just love it because she's also a Sara without an "h." Although that does make it even better.

Seriously, I love the song for its lyrics, its passion, its meaning. But I also love it because of the story behind it. The story of what most inspired this song and the CD can be found here. Just scroll down the page until you hit the Biography section, and, in it, you'll read the story of a young woman, Elisabeth.

When I read Elisabeth's story, I thought of how we often spend so much time in regret, so much time wishing that we hadn't done something or dreaming of what our lives would be like had we made some other choice. And, we spend a lot of time wishing that many things, things beyond our control, had not happened to us. And, so often we bear the scars of our bad choices and of the harmful actions of others.

It's hard to not do that, but I wonder what our lives would be like if we really believed Romans 8:28? What if we truly believed "that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose?" Could we, like Elisabeth, look back on even the most difficult times in our lives and see God in them, see that there may have been some purpose or reason for that time in our lives? Some way that we can let God work through us and turn those difficult times into good?

It's a difficult thing to do. We want so much to have perfect lives, to have done things the right way, to have never made the wrong choices, to have never been put into harmful and hurtful situations. And yet, without those times, what would we be like? How could we relate to others who had similar hurts? Could we be the comfort to them that we can now be if we had never known such hurt? Can we see those difficult times as experiences we cannot waste, as experiences that can make us people who can speak to the hurts of others?

Because I love it so much, I'll leave you with the lyrics to "When the Saints." If you haven't heard it yet, you really must. I promise you'll love it too. And, when you listen to it, think about Elisabeth's story; it will fill you with hope and faith.

"When the Saints"

Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I cannot let it go

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it often overwhelms me
but when I think of all who've gone before and lived the faithful life
their courage compells me
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaoh's court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul

I see the young missionary and the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear

I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the dying man's side

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door

I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Being Religious

Donald Miller is one of my favorite authors, and Blue Like Jazz is one of my favorite books. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about something he says in the book. Miller writes,

"I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather to have us wasting time. That is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man's mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging God" (13).

I guess I've been thinking of this lately because I often use the word "religious" to describe myself, and I think a lot of us do that. It's a sort of shorthand really, isn't it? It's sort of an easy way to explain what we are.

But really, it doesn't explain it at all.

Because if I were really to say what I am, the word "religious" wouldn't make any sense. I guess I do things that would be seen as religious. I pray; I read the Bible; I go to church. And yet, there is a reason I do those things, and the reason is not that I do them out of habit. I'm not wasting time by doing those things. I'm not saying prayers that have no purpose just because I feel I should be saying prayers or going to church on Sundays because I feel like I have to be there or reading my Bible because I feel compelled to out of guilt.

I pray because I want to, because I can think of no better way to know God, to seek His will for my life, to find the answers to life's problems, to ask for help and guidance. I read my Bible for many of the same reasons and also because I'm constantly amazed at how poetic it is, how I can sometimes read something in my Bible and just find myself completely surprised by how beautiful its words are. That book had been sitting in my home untouched for years. Why did it take me so long to open it up and really see what was inside? And, I go to church because I find some strength in seeing other people, often older people, still learning more about God, still seeking His word and His teachings.

So, I use the word "religious," but I don't really mean it. Quite honestly, I don't want to be religious. I don't want to go through motions for no reason or be so entrenched in ritual that I forget to find God within it. What I want is what I think we all want--for my heart to engage with God.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

I press on toward the goal...

At one point, I became a runner. Now, I never would have thought I'd say that. When I was growing up, my least favorite day of the week was Wednesday. At my school, that day was known as "Running Wednesday," as it was the day that all we did was run during P.E. class.

I hated it. Hated it.

There's no nicer way to put it. I absolutely hated "Running Wednesday." It wasn't even a good name, really. I mean, seriously, couldn't there have been something more clever, perhaps even alliterative? I suppose not, as there aren't any days of the week that begin with the letter R. Which is just fine with me. I just turned every "Running Wednesday" into a "Walking Wednesday" anyways. See, "Walking Wednesday" is clever, alliterative, memorable. Running Wednesday was just a beating.

Yet somehow, I became a runner a couple of years ago. In truth, I haven't been doing so much running lately, but I'm no longer scared of it or feel burdened by it. I no longer think of running as pure torture; instead, I think of running as something that I want to get back into, something that makes me feel good when I'm doing it, when I'm in the practice of running regularly. And since I haven't been running, I feel like there's something missing.

But, even though I love running, I don't really think of myself as a disciplined runner. I never wear a watch; I never want to figure out how fast I can run a certain distance. When I'm really into running, I want to run everyday, and I want to push myself to run just a little more than I think I can. But, I don't do that because I feel like I have to; I do it because I really want to.

I never thought I'd actually want to run. I guess I always just thought of it as something you did to avoid getting yelled at by a coach or to keep from gaining weight. It just always seemed that there was some sort of punishment attached to not running, and I never thought about what good things could come of running.

Similarly, I always thought of the negatives of not going to church, not reading the Bible, not praying, not following all the rules of Christianity. And those were always way worse than getting yelled at by a P.E. coach or getting fat. But I never thought about the good that could come from Bible reading and such, and I never thought of how those things could become a part of me, a part of who I am and who I see myself becoming.

I guess I mean to say that, at a certain point, I just fell in love with it all, like I did with running. And, that whole falling in love thing isn't something I expected. It's not even something I wanted, quite honestly. And yet, it happened. Because that's how love happens sometimes. It happens when you least expect it, often when you least want it. But I did fall in love with it all, and suddenly prayer and reading my Bible and going to church just made sense because I wanted to feel closer to God. I really just wanted to follow Him, to know more about Him.

There are times, in running, when what keeps me going is thinking of the negative effects of stopping--knowing that I'll feel like I've let myself down, knowing that I can't work off that last piece of chocolate cake if I don't run. But, that won't keep me going for too long. If there weren't some sort of love for running, I'd never put on a pair of running shoes and go outside. It just wouldn't occur to me to even do it. And, if there weren't some sort of love for God, I don't think it would occur to me to pray, to read my Bible, to go to church, to pay attention to any of the rules.

It is that love that makes me press on toward the goal.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Losing My Religion

If I'm honest, I'd have to tell you that there are plenty of things I'd have rather done than become a practicing Christian again. There were a lot of directions I saw my life headed, and none of them involved sitting in Bible Study or going to church or caring about what God thought about the direction of my life or doing an awful lot of praying.

I mean, somewhere in me I did care about those things for some reason, but I didn't care about them very much. Not enough to base my life on them. Not enough to make me change. Not enough to make me want to do anything that would be too hard or anything that would make me stand out or be weird.

I liked church sometimes. I liked the tradition. I liked the hymns. I even kind of liked sermons if they were uplifting and made me feel nice. I really liked religion. The very idea of it--the ceremony, the liturgy, the feel of a church. But, that was pretty much it. I guess I mean to say that none of this stuff really affected my life. Church was nice and all, but I didn't really see a connection between church and anything larger or any reason that what went on in church or what I had read in the Bible many, many years ago should really affect my life in the present.

So, what happened? I suppose I could tell some great testimony at this point, some story of one single moment in which I had an epiphany. But, I don't really want to give a testimony, and I didn't really have one moment in which all of this occurred. It didn't happen like that. Seriously, I wasn't Saul on the road to Damascus. I'm just a grad student who lives in the middle of a cornfield, and what happened is pretty simple.

I just realized it's all true.

I mean, that's it. Really. It's incredibly simple. I want it to be more difficult, more intricate, more...well...interesting. But it isn't. I just realized it's all true. And then I had no choice but to believe.

And, when I realized it was all true, I realized that I was connected to something much larger, and, suddenly, I realized that what I did with my life mattered, not just to me, but to a God who had allowed His Son to be sacrificed for me. And, when I looked at it that way, the cross meant more to me than it had before. Before, it was really just something at the front of the church, but I couldn't see it in that way anymore, and I still can't. Because it all became real. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

And, that's the very simple story of how I lost my religion. Or, perhaps the story of how I gained a relationship.