Thursday, August 03, 2017

Being the Light

A few years ago a friend asked me if I was an Evangelical. I really had no idea how to answer. I'd only recently started taking faith seriously after a long and somewhat misspent lapse of most of the years of my life. I wanted to say "no" because "Evangelical" sounded like the last thing I wanted to be. My friend was more interested in whether or not I was trying to proselytize him, so I answered, "If I am, I'm not a very good one."

Witty and to the point. And, unfortunately, a little too accurate. I'm almost never one to share my faith. I stay away from it the same way I stay away from most (all) controversies. Over the past few years that has started to bother me. I wonder why I don't share my faith, and I think that a big part of it is that I don't think I'm sure enough, strong enough, good enough. And, frankly, I don't want to make waves. I'd rather dive under the wave where it's safe and calm.

When I thought about this problem tonight, another image came to mind though.  I saw myself as a light, a small candle. And that light just wasn't bright enough.   However, as I thought about this image a little more, I realized that even a small light can bring a little brightness to places where it's dark. So maybe I should be that little light.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

#blessed

Every once in a while I'm overcome by the feelings of hopelessness that can only befall the chief of sinners who so needs that grace abounding. It's that crushing weight of being the worst possible Christian, the least diligent prayer of prayers, the shallowest Bible reader. I'm sure nobody else feels like this because I am the lowest of the low.

Perhaps God is looking at me and thinking, "Trust Me. I've seen worse." It doesn't feel like that, but, on the upside, that occasional feeling does make me look deeper, pray more, donthise things I ought to do but often don't.

All that to say, I've been moody lately and in that moodiness decided to read my Bible, specifically Psalm 67. Why 67? Not a clue. But, I read it because I felt like it, and I've been reading it almost daily since. Here's a bit of it:

May God be gracious to us and bless us
    and make his face shine on us—
so that your ways may be known on earth,
    your salvation among all nations.

First off, I like that it's about God's blessings. I want to be #blessed. All God's children want to be #blessed. And the verses are almost asking for those blessings--May God be gracious to us and bless us. But it's not about blessings just for the sake of blessings; it's not about being blessed so that we have things or so that we feel good. This is asking for God's blessings so that the people around us will see and understand God's ways. Through seeing our blessings, people can see God, know Him, and experience Him. 

When God makes His "face shine on us," then people can see the goodness of God, like a radiant-faced Moses coming down from the mountain. Moses came down from the mountain, not carrying things we'd typically see as valuable; he was carrying stone tablets, but on those stone tablets was written God's law and covenant. Moses' face radiated from being in God's presence, and through his meeting with God the people were blessed. 

To me, these verses are an amazing revelation. But, you might not take my word for it;  I am the worst of the worst. 


Monday, July 24, 2017

I'm good at things. And you can be, too!

I have always done things that I'm good at. Basically, I avoid anything that requires work, perseverance, patience, or any other virtue that I have zero interest in cultivating. So, that's how I manage to be good at things. I just steer clear of things I'm bad at. Feel free to use this trick in your own life.

The downside of this habit is that I do it too often. Even things I'm good at and could be really good at I don't devote the time needed to make that jump from good to really good to, maybe, even great. The strange thing is that, as a writing teacher, a big part of my job is judging the work of people who are doing something that they might not be good at and then telling them that they should work harder to be better at it. Life is full of little hypocrisies, isn't it?

I might be diligent at very little, aside from avoiding work, but even that diligence doesn't keep me from falling into situations in which I'm doing things I'm not good at. A few weeks ago I read a book that was set in Russia--not a Russian novel, just a novel that happened to take place there. I've never, ever finished a Russian novel. I've tried, but they're hard, and you know how I feel about things that are hard. But for whatever reason, I decided that I wanted to give it a go again. I would try to read a Russian novel.  I've been slogging through The Master and Margarita. I like it; I hate it; I'm utterly confused and intrigued by it.  I'm bad at understanding it.

I was thinking about that on my walk tonight. By reading this book, I'm doing that thing I don't do. I'm sticking to something that I'm uncomfortable with and something that makes me work harder than  I have to. I don't like it, but it helps me to understand where my students are when they're reading short stories, poems, and plays that I've read dozens of times. They hopefully like it; they definitely hate it; they're utterly confused and maybe slightly intrigued by it. And even though it uncomfortable,  this crazy Russian novel is where I need to be to get me to the place where my students need me to be.