Poetry

When I was young, I wrote poetry. This isn't something I talk about very much, if at all. It's one of those things that I have every right to be embarrassed about, truth be told. But, for better or for worse, I and my black-and-white-speckled notebook and my purple pen spent plenty of quality time together from about 1992 to 1996.

But, somewhere about 1997, I decided to deposit my poetry in a trashcan, to be taken away by the local garbage collectors. That's a true story. I just took it and threw it all in the trash. Pretty dramatic, right?

I guess I'd decided that writing poetry wasn't worth my time. Perhaps, at eighteen, I was too old. Perhaps I was too serious. Perhaps I just had nothing to write about. Whatever the case, my poetry career came to a halt, and I haven't much thought about it since then. I definitely haven't talked about it since, well, I don't remember when.

Honestly, I haven't much cared for poetry for years. There's something about poetry that's a little too emotive, a little too mushy, or a little too something. I preferred looking at poetry as an English major. Then I could take a poem and dissect it, take a scalpel to it, as to a "patient etherized upon a table."

I mean, words are serious business, and you don't go getting all mushy over something that's serious business. But, maybe you do. Maybe you sometimes have to. Maybe there are times when being serious isn't the end of it all. Maybe we need poetry in ways we can't imagine because poetry frees us from the way we normally think of language and of life.

I was thinking about poetry a few weeks ago when I was out running. Actually, I was thinking about writing, about all the things I'd like to write and a little about things I used to write. So naturally, I started thinking about poetry.

At the time of my run, I was in the middle of reading Searching for God Knows What. In the book, Donald Miller discusses that parts of the Bible are written as poetry. He reflects,

"I can't tell you how beautiful I thought this was; I had always suspected language was quite limited in its ability to communicate the intricate mysteries of truth" (55).

The word "limited" just stood out to me. I thought of how limited the world felt when I stopped writing poetry, how there was less beauty in it, how it changed the way I saw the world and felt about it, how nothing had a ring of poetry about it. Because, through poetry, I tried to see more beauty in the world, and, when you go looking for beauty, your thoughts often turn to the One who created such beauty.

So, I tried to open my eyes to it, to all of the beauty around me as I ran down the street. This was difficult to do, given the fact that it was overcast. But, do you know what happened? It started raining on me, a sort of torrential downpour. Now, like I said, I'm a very serious person who doesn't like to get rained on. But, I'd never been happier for such a thing to happen. I stopped running and just walked through it.

I looked like a complete idiot. And perhaps a little like a drowned rat. The thing is, I didn't care one bit. Right there, standing on the side of the road and drenched in rain, I'd found some poetry again. And, it wasn't a sonnet or anything that contrived. It existed in the simplicity of all that was around me, as sure as the God who inspired the poetry in His Word. And, suddenly, the world felt a little less limited, a little more like something only the mysteries of poetry can explain.

Fasting

Sometimes we overlook the obvious. For example, the rhetoric of religion often centers on this idea that we look for God. This makes God seem so far away, as if we must exert enormous energy to find Him. In truth, He's right there, waiting for us, even when we fail to look.

A while ago, I decided to fast on Thursdays. I felt like it would be a way to learn dependence on God because it often feels that when we're satisfied, either with a full stomach or with the status of our lives, we feel less inclined to look to God. However, at those times when everything seems to be going wrong, we understand the need for God.

So, I gave up food on Thursdays. What I learned was this. God meets us where we are and teaches us what we need to learn when we are able to understand it.

When I started the fast, I was thinking of how we sometimes find ways of calming ourselves, sometimes through food, when we should really seek calm by turning to God. But, as I fasted, I saw the the food problem was, for me, pretty insignificant when I compared it to the many other things I put before a relationship with God. But, it wasn't until I took away food and turned to God that I could see the other areas of my life that God wanted me to change.

In his book, Basic Christianity, John Stott writes,

"The Christian knows that the nearer he approaches God, the more he becomes aware of his own sin. In this saint somewhat resembles the scientist. The more the scientist discovers, the more he appreciates the mysteries which await his discovery. So the more the Christian grows in Christ-likeness, the more he perceives the vastness of the distance which separates him from Christ" (38).

As I prayed and fasted, I slowly began to see how, over the course of many years, I had worked on constructing a pretty strong wall to keep God (and sometimes other people) away from me. And, the thing is, I began to see things I didn't really like. Suddenly, it became obvious to me that I had a lot of flaws. I was vain, materialistic, selfish, and at least half a dozen other bad things.

I looked around my home at all the things I surrounded myself with. I had tons of magazines that told me I needed to have gobs of expensive possessions, clothes I never wore, more makeup than I could ever possibly use. Those are things that obviously have no lasting value and things that serve no purpose other than to maintain a negative system of values.

But, they're not the only things that do that. I started looking through boxes of old papers--things I wrote as an undergrad and as a grad student in English. Stacks of papers with glowing comments on them, papers I'd been so proud of. But, the thing is, as I looked back over these papers, it was as if they meant nothing to me. It was nice to know my work had been appreciated, but all I could see as I looked at those old papers was how proud those comments had made me, how they'd made me feel like I was complete, even at times when I was anything but.

So, where was the nice warm fuzzy feeling that Christianity was supposed to give me? When I confronted how completely distant I was from being like Christ, how this troubled my ability to relate to people as I should and to be a good Christian, I certainly felt anything but calm.

One night, after thinking about how completely askew my focus had been for so long, I went to bed and had a horrible night's sleep. I woke up the next morning, and all I could think was, "How on earth am I going to fix this? This is a real problem. I'm all these things--selfish, proud, arrogant--and I hate all of it. How can I be a different person?"

And, then it came to me. The most obvious answer. You just do. That's the calm that comes from being a Christian. The answer makes so much sense and is so clear. It's this:

"Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold all things are become new" (2 Corinthians 5:17).

So, the answer to how to change is simply that you change. Through Christ, you allow those parts--the selfishness and all of it--to die away. This ability to let the old self die away is part of the promise and hope of Christianity. It's so obvious that we must be careful not to overlook it.

Why I Hate Yoga

A few years ago, I decided to take a yoga class. I bought a cute yoga mat and determined to stretch my way to optimal health and well-being.

Our classes were held at the Rec Center and taught by a woman who never wore makeup and looked as if she lived off granola. She had a voice like an NPR announcer, quiet and monotone, not given to any bursts of excessive enthusiasm. I worked my way through a number of poses and kind of liked it.

Except that I hated it. That's right. I absolutely hated yoga. I tried it again a couple of years later. New gym, new instructor, new yoga pants. Same old hatred of yoga.

You see, the stretching was good. It sometimes hurt, but, overall, it felt pretty good to really push myself to do more. But the thing is, there's more to yoga than just stretching. There's also this whole element of being calm.

I couldn't stand the calm. In fact, yoga, rather than filling me with a sense of peace, made me want to go pick a fist-fight. And, I may be many things, but violent just isn't one of them. For some reason, all that calm--the gentle breathing, the soothing music, the NPR announcer/yoga teacher--just put me on edge.

I don't do calm very well. For some reason, sloth and laziness come fairly easily to me, but those are usually aided by copious amounts of bad television and unhealthy snacks. But, the calm of a yoga class was a kind of calm that forced concentration. And, that sort of concentration can be unsettling.

I was thinking of this as I reflected on just how difficult it can be to pray. I mean, at times prayer just comes naturally, like during a natural disaster or before a test or when you're faced with a personal crisis. Prayer makes sense then. And, when I am saying my prayers at night, while I'm doing the talking, well, prayer seems to make sense then as well. It's comfortable so long as I'm actively engaging in prayer, while I'm making sure I haven't forgotten to pray for anyone, or trying to think of any areas of my life that need attention. It's pretty comfortable so long as I'm doing something.

But, when you think about it, that's not all there is to prayer, because prayer is part of a relationship. There can't be just this one-sided way of communicating; that's not how we truly come to know and understand God.

But, that's the hard part. I think of Psalm 46:10,

"Be still, and know that I am God."

The stillness and the knowing are connected, but how can we make ourselves be still? Don't we organize our lives, even our ways of worship, in ways that are anything but still? We seem to always need to be doing something, taking time away from this important business of stillness, and, in turn, we lose our chance to really know that He is God.

I have to admit, I'm still wary of trying another yoga class. I'd hate to have any of you turn on the news and find out I'd been arrested for assault. But, I am going to try to be still, because I have to think that stillness leads to greater knowledge. And, I can't think of much that would be more calming than the peace that comes from knowing God.

Book Review: Searching for God Knows What

Well, I feel that by now I've quoted enough from Donald Miller's Searching for God Knows What, but it's good enough that it deserves a review, now that I'm finished reading it. What Miller does in this book is similar to what he did in Blue Like Jazz, which is to argue for a more relational understanding of Christianity or Christian Spirituality. To be fair, the two books are very different, but their similarity lies in Miller's articulation of an idea that Christianity must be understood as a relationship.

Throughout Searching for God Knows What, Miller points out the relational language of the Gospels and even of the Old Testament. And, he argues quite strongly that Christianity can't be seen merely as a moral code.

I'll be honest. That last part is tough. We're all really good moralists, aren't we? I mean, even if we're not always so good at following the moral code, we're usually good at knowing what it is and how to argue for it. And, sometimes, we're really good at understanding that we follow it better than other people.

Wouldn't it be nice if that were the goal? To be better than other people. I'm tons better than plenty of other people, and, if you asked me, I could tell you exactly why I'm so much better--better at following the rules, better at church attendance, better at reading my Bible, better at understanding what I read, better at praying every day, better at spending time each day reading about God and trying to understand Him more deeply. I mean, I think I just proved my point. I'm tons better than a lot of people.

But, the truth is that I'm not. I have a lot of flaws. I'm proud and selfish and self-righteous. And, sometimes I find it hard to see the good in people. There are plenty of people who are more loving to others than what I've been in my life. I guess I could throw in the fact that I'm materialistic, just for good measure. Okay, as long as I'm going all confessional here, sometimes I fall asleep during my nighttime prayers, and, on Friday, I forgot to read my devotional. Heck, it wasn't until a few months ago that I even did devotionals; I've never given anything up for Lent; I said the same prayer over and over for years, every single night; until recently, my church attendance over the last few years was incredibly spotty. And, those moral codes that I follow could easily be argued for without even mentioning God.

So, what's the point?

I think that's where Miller's book is helpful. Miller argues that, in keeping with the Biblical understanding of human nature, we are essentially a broken people. He begins his explanation of this brokenness with the story of the Fall. Miller's interpretation of the Fall is one that makes so much sense, but he doesn't give it to us as we're used to hearing it. Though he remains true to the concept that the Fall of Man introduced sin into the world, he talks about how the Fall also led to a rupture in the relationship between man and God. In this way, his interpretation of the Fall is quite relational. Miller illustrates not an angry God and a sinful man, but the sadness that must have been felt by man upon betraying his relationship to God. Miller writes,

"And then it hit me how awful it must have felt for Adam and Eve to have been deceived by Satan, to have been tricked into breaking their relationship with God. You and I almost have it easier. We were born this way. [...] I wonder at how terrible it must have felt, at the fear of no longer feeling God, at the ache of emptiness and the sudden and horrifying awareness of self. God have mercy" (72-73).

Miller explains that we became aware of our separation from God, and in this separation, we needed a way in which to define ourselves. We seek out many different ways of doing just that. Miller gives the example of the social hierarchy among young people in schools, how young people will do almost anything to keep from becoming marked as the cultural "other" in their schools. But, sadly, there always has to be some "other" who we define our worth against. Someone has to be the least popular. Someone has to be the outcast.

And, Miller goes on to explain how we sometimes continue in positioning people as outcasts by making morality the main focus of Christianity. I must explain here that Miller is not speaking against the moral codes given to us in the Bible; he upholds that morality. However, what he is doing is trying to make us see that what makes Christianity so special, what sets it apart, is that it allows us to have a relationship with Jesus.

The brokenness that Miller discusses is something that makes us feel that there is something missing. And, because there is something missing, we try to fill that emptiness. Sure, some people fill that emptiness with drugs or alcohol or therapy or, less destructively, with having tons of hobbies and interests. But, some of us fill that emptiness with feeling superior to those who are not as moral as we are. Miller isn't saying that we need to change the moral code; that's not the message at all.

Rather, what he is saying is that we must understand that we've all been shaped by our brokenness. Like I said earlier, it is easy for me to see how moral I am, how hard I work to understand God more. But, what is so humbling, is that I have to remember that it isn't by my own strength that I am able to do those things; it is because of the strength given by God.

Earlier, I also listed all the things that I struggle with, all the ways in which I'm just not such a great person. And, to be honest, it wasn't until recently--as I've come to look to God, His Word, His will for my life--that I would have even considered that those were things that I should struggle with. In fact, I thought I was just fine. But, the truth is, I wasn't. Not even close.

But, that's what we must remember. We must remember that often, it is not until we start working toward holiness that we really begin to see those areas of our lives that aren't so good. It is when we stop looking into the mirror or to other people for an explanation of how to live a good life and start looking to the example of Christ that we really learn what it is to live the lives we were meant to live. And, knowing that were it not for our seeking to be more like Christ that we would not fully understand life, it must change how we treat other people.

We should remember the verse, "For there is no difference, all have sinned, and lack the praise that is of valour before God" (Romans 3:23). It is only through grace that we have come to know of the relationship to God through Christ. Remember the story of the woman caught in adultery? Jesus asked he who was without sin to cast the first stone, but none were without sin. He also told the woman to go and sin no more. The woman was saved from death by Jesus' grace, and, in this salvation, she was to sin no more.

Surely we can show grace to others. And, surely we must understand that our greatest calling is to know Christ and to be more like Him.

Entering the Uncharted Territory of the Kitchen

It's confession time. I am a terrible cook. That is, I can make side dishes, appetizers, and...side dishes and appetizers. If there's a piece of meat to be cooked, I will ruin it. It will be a tasteless mess. I make one main dish. It's pasta with spinach pesto. Unfortunately, you can't make pasta with spinach pesto every night, unless you're looking to gain 50 pounds real quick!

On the flip side, I'm a pretty passable baker, but I can't do any fancy stuff. And, again, unless I'm on a gain weight diet, rather than a lose weight diet, I can't live on baked goods alone. Even though I wish I could. Can you imagine a diet that consisted of side dishes, appetizers, and baked goods? Oh my! That would be fabulous. I'd start with little quiches and my gorgonzola mashed potatoes; then I'd end with a big chunk of cheesecake. Unfortunately, such a diet would lead to me looking like a big chunk of cheesecake, and, much as I love cheesecake (especially my pumpkin cheesecake), it's just never been my goal to look like cheesecake.

That said, I have a goal to start cooking more. In part, it's because not cooking is really expensive. It's also a real waste of money, and I feel like I should be a better steward of money. So, cooking at home seems a good way to do that and a good way to learn a new and much needed skill. Also, I've always loved the part of Proverbs 31 that talks about the wife of noble character, but I've always had the convenient loophole of not being a wife. However, I think the verses are good for any woman because it talks about being a woman of good character and a woman who takes care of business.

Apparently, she also cooks. And, in that regard, I've been letting down my little family of Greta and, um, me. So, I've determined to turn over a new leaf and start cooking. I'll possibly even start cooking things that taste good! So, if anyone has any recipes they'd like to share, I will happily take them. In return, I will give you the recipe for my fantastic oatmeal cookies. I've taken them to Bible Study twice, and the ladies love them!

Happy Baking!

The Yummiest Oatmeal Cookies EVER!!!

Ingredients:

2 Sticks Butter, softened
1 Cup Brown Sugar
1/2 Cup Granulated Sugar
1 Egg
2-3 Egg Yolks (Definitely 2, but add an extra if the batter seems too dry)
1 TABLESPOON Vanilla
1 & 1/2 Cups Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
3 Cups Old-Fashioned Oats (Uncooked, please!)
1 Cup Raisins OR Chocolate Chips (I like raisins, but chocolate chips are tasty too!)
1 Cup Toasted Walnuts OR Pecans (Just throw them in the oven while it's heating. They should take about 10 minutes to toast, but keep an eye on them. Those things can burn fast!)

Directions:

Make cookies. Tuh! Oh, sorry. I'll be more specific!

1. Cream the butter. A spoon or a mixer will work, depending on how soft the butter is.
2. Add in the sugars and the vanilla. And then, cream some more! You're getting good at this now!
3. Add the egg and the egg yolks! Stir it up!
4. Add the flour, baking soda, and salt. Yum! Oh, wait, those aren't very tasty on their own.
5. Thrown in the fun stuff! Oatmeal, raisins, the nuts (which are hopefully tastefully toasted rather than nastilly burnt.). If you like more of any of the ingredients, like more raisins or more nuts, go for it! But, make sure to not put too much stuff in there, or the cookies will be nasty.

Now, put giant globs of cookie dough on the cookie sheet, and bake those for around 10 minutes at 350 degrees.

Then, take them out and eat them immediately. Okay, maybe not. Restrain yourself or else you will burn a hole through your tongue. And, after that, you'll never be able to see an oatmeal cookie without thinking of the trauma sustained while eating one. That's no fun! So, wait until they cool a little, and then enjoy them with a glass of milk. Make it organic milk; it's a lot better for you! ;)

Leprosy and Other Bad Things

Sometimes there's something nostalgic about reading the Bible. I guess it reminds me of being younger and in Sunday School, but reading the stories again is also a little like being introduced to old friends. You get reacquainted with Mary and Martha, Lazarus (what a story there), and the twelve disciples. In the reading of these stories, there's definitely something that jogs my memory and makes me think about my life as a younger person, reading or hearing those stories for the first time.

But, there's also a way that I understand things differently now than I would have when I was younger. The stories of the miracles are still amazing, but there's a way in which they speak to something deeper about understanding a relationship with God.

For some reason, I really like the story of the man who was healed of leprosy. I'm not sure why. It's in the middle of a lot of the great red-lettered parts of the Bible, so that's one reason I like it. But, I also like it because the man is suffering from something that seems so terrible, yet he is healed. I guess I like that because I think of the many problems we all face and how insurmountable they seem, how it often seems like there will be no end to the things that trouble us.

And, sometimes, I wonder if we have both the faith and the humility to turn to God to ask for help with those things that trouble us. It seems that, so often, we think that there can be no end to our problems or that we must look for answers and solutions in every place without thinking to look to God. And, sometimes, we try to solve all problems on our own, even when we face troubles that we cannot possibly handle.

So, I think we can learn a lot from the man with leprosy. Just consider how he asks for help. He says to Jesus, "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean." How much faith did it take to assert that Jesus could heal him of his incurable disease? And how much humility did it take to ask? Can we have that kind of faith, that kind of humility?

I'm not at all suggesting that we take a vacation from working on those areas of our lives that need work. Remember that the Israelites were given as much manna as they needed, but they couldn't just sit in their tents waiting to be served. They had to go out and collect their food. God expects us to put forth effort, even in the midst of our troubles. After all, the man with leprosy wasn't sitting around waiting to be healed; he went and found the Healer.

I think that part of having a relationship with God is knowing that we must turn to Him for help, that we can't just persist in trying to solve all problems on our own. Sometimes, the problems are just too big. Sometimes, the problems are bigger than we are. Fortunately, God is bigger than our problems, and He will help, if we only have the faith and humility to ask.

On My Run Tonight

I went for a run tonight. For the record, whenever I say "run," you should probably insert the word "jog," if you're particular about accuracy. In truth, what I do is more akin to a slow jog, but it still feels great.

There's just something about pushing yourself to run a little further, to work a little harder. It feels good. Tonight I ran a little under three miles. It's nothing spectacular, but it makes me feel good to know that I can do that; it makes me feel good to know that I could do even more than that if I worked really hard at it.

And, I especially like running because it gives you a chance to see things a little more slowly than you do in a car, to notice things you might otherwise miss. Like tonight, I was jogging on a busy street in town, and I got to really see the houses that I drive past everyday. I saw the custard place, and perhaps I thought about how tasty custard is and how easy it would be to run through the drive-through.

But then I spotted something that took me by surprise. Right there, on a busy street in front of someone's house, was a pumpkin patch. That's right. As I ran by, I spotted a little pumpkin growing next to the sidewalk and then a little pumpkin next to the house. Imagine that.

This probably sounds goofy, but I was pretty amazed at the little pumpkin patch. And, I couldn't help but think how hopeful it is to spot a little pumpkin patch where you'd least expect it.

But isn't that how things so often happen? Things grow where we least expect them to. Perhaps we should keep that in mind and remember to never lose hope that we might find growth in unexpected places.

Mary and Martha

I am completely lazy. Given enough time alone, I would probably not leave the house or brush my teeth or bathe or do much besides watch TV. And it wouldn't be educational TV. It'd be the really bad stuff, the kind of stuff where you find out which actress is getting divorced or which model was recently arrested. You know, quality programming.

I have to confess that I've gotten a lot better about this laziness, and, lately, I don't have the least interest in watching celebrity news. I'm also happy to report that I make at least a passing attempt at hygeine--both dental and body. But, once you've been a lazy person, you always sort of see yourself as a lazy person, and you always know that you have the capacity for extreme sloth. And, the thing is, I'd been kind of lazy even as a kid. So, in Sunday School when we learned the Bible story of Mary and Martha, I always associated more with Mary.

In case you don't remember the story, Mary and Martha were two sisters who had Jesus over to their house. Martha was in a tizzy, making sure everything was spotless and perfect, while Mary sat around listening to Jesus talk. Well, Martha got her panties in a bunch about that, and she asked Jesus to tell Mary to help with the preparations. But, Jesus didn't do that. Instead, He told Martha that she should be more like her sister and that she should be spending her time listening to Him. Hearing that story, I knew right then that I liked both Jesus and Mary. I also knew that Martha was absolutely no fun and that she and I would not be friends.

Personally, I think neat freaks all identify with Martha, and slobs like me (the people with unidentifiable stuff in their refrigerators) identify with Mary. But, the thing is, I'm not sure the difference between Mary-people and Martha-people is so easy to identify as we might think.

You see, I don't spend all my time making my house look perfect, but there are plenty of things that I do that take away from time spent just getting to know God. Sometimes it's hard to figure out what those things are. For instance, I read tons of books. I'm sort of like a book addict, and, lately, most of the books have been works that talk about God, specifically about knowing God. The truth is, I've enjoyed these books very much, and they've helped me to learn a lot. They've all helped me to come to some understandings about God and faith and spirituality that I wouldn't have come to had it not been for reading them.

However, sometimes I get really wrapped up in reading, so much so that, even though I'm reading a book about getting to know God, I'm not actually getting to know God. Strange, right? But, the problem is, I can't get to know God or anyone else, for that matter, just by reading about Him, because knowing God doesn't mean just knowing about Him or knowing how another person has gotten to know Him. Knowing God means taking the time to really get to know Him, to pray to Him, to seek His answers to our questions.

Obviously, there's nothing wrong with reading books about God, but we need to remember not to lose God among the pages of the book, not to let our reading of the book serve as a replacement for getting to know God. That said, we can't forego all activities, because we still need to connect with others and to expand our understanding of God and His will for our lives by looking to others for guidance. We still need to make cookies for Bible Study, brush up on our apologetics, serve on church committees. And we really, really must keep our houses clean. Remember, God is a God of order. So, you're not going to find Him while you're living in a dump.

Brokenness and Healing

Being an English major was a wonderful thing. I mean, telling people you're an English major was never fun because they would inevitably scrunch up their noses or ask if you were planning on teaching high school. But, actually being an English major was great.

You see, while other people had their noses stuck in boring books about business or chemistry, I was poring over Shakespeare, Chaucer, Jane Austen, Thackeray. In short, I got to read books that people actually want to read. But, being an English major wasn't just about reading literature; it was also about trying to understand literature, trying to get at why an author made a certain choice or trying to search for hidden meanings.

One of the exercises for doing that was the literary close reading. Close reading is perhaps the most left-brained approach to literature, so it might come as some surprise that I absolutely loved it. In doing a close reading, you look to every little writing choice an author has made. You ask things like: Why is that comma there? Why has she used the word "love" ten times? Why is the word "truth" capitalized?

Exciting stuff, right?

Well, perhaps it's not the most intriguing or romantic way of looking at literature, but you can learn a lot by the choices an author makes. You can try to figure out what is most important to the author, how the author understands his subject, what the author wants you to get. This hit me the other day as I was reading through Psalms. I came to a verse that I really like. It says,

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:3).

What stood out to me was the similarity of this verse to two verses that I like in Job. Job 5:17-18 says,

"Blessed is the man whom God corrects; so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty. For he wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal."

What stands out here is that there is a theme of brokenness. However, that theme of brokenness does not stand on it's own; rather, it is joined with the theme of healing, of binding up. What's striking is that this really is the whole Bible story, the story of a broken people who have the opportunity to turn to God, repent, and be healed.

It's not just these two verses. We see this theme of a God who will bind up our wounds running throughout the Bible, starting with the Fall and, of course, in the coming of Christ and the crucifixion. If we look all throughout the Old and New Testaments, we see the theme.

We even see it in the short but terrifying book of Zephaniah. The other day, I was talking to my uncle, and he pointed out a verse from Zephaniah which speaks to this very point. In Zephaniah, amid a book in which God was pouring out well-deserved punishment on His people, we get Zephaniah 3:17 which says,

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing."

Isn't that an amazing picture, to think of God delighting in us, to think of God singing over us as we might sing over a child who is crying? But, again, this is the theme that runs throughout the Bible. We don't have to undertake a close reading to find these themes. We learn, without looking too closely, that despite our sins, despite our faults, God is there, waiting for us to let Him bind our wounds, even those wounds we've brought on ourselves.

Because the themes of brokenness and healing run throughout the Bible, it is not surprising to learn that we are broken, nor is it surprising to learn that God will heal our brokenness. What is surprising is that we don't turn away from those things which hurt us and toward a God who heals. What is surprising is that we don't let ourselves be healed, that we don't listen for His singing, that we don't let our broken hearts and selves be bound.

Observations from a Bathroom

You don't really know people until you spend time talking with them, and, even then, you sometimes miss the boat entirely. I know that that idea isn't novel, but I also think we have to remind ourselves of it quite a lot. At least, I have to remind myself of it.

I've spent all of my life in college towns, as both a local and a student. Because of this, it's pretty easy to lump all college students together, to forget the uniqueness of each one. Sometimes that uniqueness is really difficult to see. Going out on any weekend night in a college town is testament to that. The girls often have this studied perfection about their looks--flat-ironed hair, meticulously applied lig gloss, waxed and plucked brows. There's a similarity to the look that's sometimes a bit startling. That said, they usually appear similarly beautiful.

When we're confronted by such beauty, it's easy to forget that there are stories beneath the well-kept veneers. A few months ago, I was in the bathroom of a building on campus, and a young woman was crying, obviously trying to pull herself together to just be able to leave the bathroom and go out onto the campus. I wanted to do something. I wanted to hug her, to cry with her, to let her know that, even in this huge and impersonal university, she wasn't alone. To let her know that we all have hurts, but that I, despite my own hurts, could help her with hers. But, I didn't know how to do that. So, I didn't do anything.

I know. I should have. I've thought of her many times since then, and each time I've wished that I had done something. Perhaps I've wished I had done something because I knew that, at some point in my life, I was that young woman, crying or very nearly crying in the bathroom of a building of a large and impersonal university. And, I wonder sometimes if my story would be different had some stranger done those things for me, had taken the time to ask me what was wrong. It's a silly idea, but it does make me wonder how many times we have the opportunity to be those strangers who reach out to people, who let them tell us their stories, no matter how sad or how silly those stories are.

Like I said, it's hard to remember that the people we encounter are unique, that they all have stories to tell and that sometimes they need so desperately to tell those stories. I think of this when I'm reading bathroom graffiti. Yes, I read bathroom graffiti. I wrote a paper on it as well. In the paper, I wrote about the fact that, because graffiti writers are in a space that's hidden, they're more apt to engage in graffiti writing, a practice that's normally considered deviant. At the time I wrote the paper, I thought that was a pretty interesting explanation.

But, when I think back on that young woman crying in the bathroom, I realize that the paper I wrote doesn't begin to even touch the reasons why young women are writing graffiti. Think about it next time you're in the bathroom. Look at what's written. You'll see that people are writing about love, religion, drugs, music, everything. I guess I used to think of these writings merely as forms of expression. But now, with the crying young woman in mind, all I can see when I read the graffiti are people, saying, "Please, someone, notice me. Please pay attention to me."

When I think back on that crying young woman, I'm struck by the fact that bright young women find writing on a bathroom wall to be a suitable form of communication. I don't mean that in a judgmental way. Save caring for the janitorial staff, it doesn't matter much to me that these young women write on walls. What matters to me is that they may write on walls, often looking for help and affirmation, because they have nowhere else to go, no other way to seek help for their problems, aid for their hurts.

When I walk across campus, it's easy to see what's on the surface. Anyone can tell that many of the students don't have to worry about money. But, you can't tell whose parents are in the middle of a divorce, who's been abused, who's still being abused, who struggles with an eating disorder, who suffers from depression, who is barely holding on. Sometimes, when I think about university campuses, I just think of one huge ER waiting room in which none of the patients will ever get the help they need.

The thing is, students aren't walking to classes with physical wounds that we could bind up, but many are walking to classes with emotional wounds that we'll never see, wounds that will never be bound unless we take the time to find out that those wounds even exist. I guess what I mean to say is, we must remember to practice love at all times. We must learn to look past the beautiful veneers and expensive clothing to find out that there are wounds and scars we could never imagine.

Donald Miller talks about this a bit. He writes, "It makes you feel that as a parent the most important thing you can do is love your kids, hold them and tell them you love them because, until we get to heaven, all we can do is hold our palms over the wounds" (113). And, even though he's speaking of a parent/child relationship, I think that we have to look to the hurts of children who aren't our own, to seek out ways we can help all people who come into our lives.

Sometimes we have to let our hearts break for others so that we can feel enough to help them. After all, each one of us is a little hurt, a little scarred, a little heartbroken. And, somedays, we could each use other people to hold their palms over our wounds as we hold our palms over theirs.

Blessed

I started writing a blog, and then I just stopped. Nothing was really making sense, and the writing was pretty lame, really. It just wasn't a good effort.

So then I started playing Dolphin Olympics 2 for a little bit. In case you don't know, Dolphin Olympics 1 and 2 are just about the best games you can play on your computer.

Anyways, as I was playing, I was thinking about writing. I think that one major worry for writers is that they'll reach a point when there's nothing else to write about or that they'll reach a point where they feel so at ease that they don't feel inspired. Lately, I've been writing a lot about God, and I'd begun to wonder if, when I reached a point where I felt like I knew Him more, I'd run out of things to write about.

I mean, that would make sense, right? Eventually, I'd just feel like there wasn't a whole lot left to write about because I'd just feel too comfy to write.

But the thing is, even in that comfiness, there are things to think about, things to write about. I started thinking about all the good things I see everyday, all the good people I meet. And, I just sat there (still playing Dolphin Olympics 2, best game ever) and felt really blessed. I thought about the ladies I'm about to see at Bible Study, and I felt blessed. I thought about the pastor I talked to the other day, and I felt blessed. I thought about the fact that I could run and not feel terrible yesterday, and I felt blessed.

So, I guess this is to say, we never run out of things to think about, things to be excited about. And we never, even as bad as things seem at times, run out of blessings.

Oh My!

I am pleased to announce that I ran about two miles today without once contemplating running into oncoming traffic. That is to say, the run was not too painful! We'll see how I feel tomorrow. Now that might prove painful.

While I was on this run, I had tons of good ideas for things to write about. Unfortunately, I'm in the middle of reading some not so interesting stuff right now, so all of that will have to wait for a bit.

Anyways, I hope all of you (you especially, Greta, my only faithful reader) had a great Wednesday. Since Wednesday marks the midpoint of the week, for the rest of the week, keep this in mind:

"But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:13-14)

I'm not sure why, but running reminds me of that verse. Perhaps it's because the goal is finishing the run? Perhaps because I feel near death while running, and that makes me think of heaven? Hmmm. Let's go with my first thought on that one.

Much Love,

Sara

Burrito Fast

There is nothing in the world that I love more than a good burrito. Nothing. Not a delicious plate of pasta, not a gooey brownie, not my dog, not my family. Well, perhaps I love my dog and my family more than a good burrito, but it's tough call.

I mean, there's nothing quite like a good burrito. Even a bad burrito isn't that bad. Consider the burrito with me for a bit. It's an entire meal wrapped in a tortilla. How brilliant is that? You've got meat, veggies, beans, and rice all right there. And they're delicious. Personally, I like a good steak burrito. A few years ago I had this great idea for cajun burritos. I never actually made one, but I thought it would be fun to have a restaurant that specialized in them. Which reminds me. My love of burritos actually led me to a career as a burrito roller. That's right. For one year, I worked at Freebird's World Burrito, original location. By the end of that year, I resembled a burrito, but I still remain a fan.

But all that burrito love has to go on hold because I decided to take a burrito fast for one year. One year with no burritos. I know it sounds weird, and I'm even willing to admit it's weird. The thing is, I started thinking about fasting about a month ago, and I wondered what was something that I felt I couldn't get along without, something that I loved so much that I would actually miss it if I had to stop eating it. Burritos were the obvious choice.

The thing is, I like the idea of a burrito fast because burritos are the one food that I can get here in the Midwest that reminds me of home. So, not eating burritos is a good way of forcing myself to accept that this is where I live now, and, each time I think about eating a burrito, it gives me a good opportunity to remind myself that, even when I am not in Texas, I'm always home and never alone.

So, odd as it is, the burrito fast goes on. Perhaps I'll tackle caffeine next...or maybe not!

On Loneliness

A couple of weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. I'm not sure why, but I thought I heard something or sensed something. Whatever the case, I was awake. Awake and completely frightened. I walked into the living room to see that there was nothing there at all but the furniture. Still, I was still completely afraid.

And, I was afraid because, at that moment, I realized I was totally alone.

Now, I'm someone who doesn't usually have problems with being alone. I'm an only child, and I think we do a pretty good job of coping with a few hours (or days or weeks or years) spent alone. As something of an expert on this state of being, allow me to enlighten you on a couple of ways that being alone is not such a bad thing.

Sometimes being alone is comforting because you need a little time to yourself. After spending hours in a crowd or with a group, it can be nice to take some time to move to your own beat. And, sometimes it's nice to do just that. I've taken plenty of vacations by myself, and, let me tell you, it's nice to see the sites you want to see when you want to see them without having other people complaining about how much their feet hurt or telling you how hungry, thirsty, sleepy, whatever they are. Imagine vacationing your way!

But...sometimes being alone is just, well, lonely. When I've gone on vacation alone, there have been times when I couldn't wait to call someone, just to be able to talk for a while. Even while spending time in places many people would love to be like Paris, London, or Berlin, there's something that's made me need to have someone else to talk to. And, sometimes--like the other night--being alone can be the scariest feeling in the world.

It seems like being alone is most frightening when there is the sense of impending danger. But, there's another time when being alone feels frightening, and that's when it feels like the state of being alone is one that has no end. We need other people around us, and, in their absence, we need a sense that we are never truly alone.

I was reading Donald Miller's book, Searching for God Knows What the other day, and he addresses this really well. What he does a good job of is talking about the many ways we try to fill the void of loneliness. In his case, he tried to fill it with being smart, with having people affirm his intelligence. I couldn't relate to that at all. Well, maybe a bit. It is affirming to see good grades and to get good comments on papers. It is affirming to see yourself making progress on a paper. I love to write my papers single-spaced and then put them in double-spaced type, just to see how they grow and grow. But, no matter how many pages I type or how many times I write good papers, I know that those things do nothing to fill the hole of loneliness. It isn't a term-paper-sized hole. It isn't even (in my consumerism-driven times) a new-dress-and-shoes-sized hole, though sometimes that can be more filling than anything.

Unfortunately, the hole is much bigger than that. Donald Miller writes of the time after he renounced his faith in God,

"I was very concerned with getting other people to say I was good or valuable or important because the thing that was supposed to make me feel this way was gone. And it wasn't just me. I could see it in the people in the movies. I could see it in my friends and family, too. It seemed that every human being had this need for something outside of himself to tell him who he was, and that whatever it was that did this was gone, and this, to me, served as a kind of personality theory. It explained why I wanted to be seen as smart, why religious people wanted so desperately to be right, why Shirley Maclaine wanted to be God, and just about everything else a human did. Later, when I set this truth about myself, and for that matter about the human race, next to what the Bible was saying about who God is, what happened at the Fall, and the sort of message Jesus communicated about humanity, I realized Christian spirituality fit my soul like a key. It was quite beautiful, to be honest with you. This God, and this spirituality was very different from the self-help version of Christianity. The God of the Bible seemed to be brokenhearted over the separation in our relationship and downright obsessed with mending the tear" (43-44).

I'm sorry that quote is so long, but I really loved all of it. I think we look for so many things to fill that loneliness, but it seems that nothing is quite enough. More importantly, the things we search for are all things that we may not always have. Miller's idea shows us that only this relationship with God is something that is not dependent on other people; Miller's sense of worth comes from a relationship with God, something that can never be taken away.

I really like this way of thinking. And, quite honestly, thinking this way makes it a little easier to sleep through the night, even when I wake to strange noises.

Day of Rest

Dear Friends,

Well, today is Sunday, and you know what that means. That's right. It's the day of rest. So, today I'm not writing a real blog. I will share something funny though.

The other day I was talking to my friend Justin about Bible Study. And, since I'm attending Bible Study at the Baptist church, he asked if I'd be changing the name of my blog to "crackersandgrapejuice."

Um, negative on that one, but it is pretty clever.

I hope all of you have a nice, relaxing Sunday!

See you,

Sara

The Glad Game

Most people have no idea what I'm talking about when I mention "The Glad Game," but it's from the movie Pollyanna. In the movie, Pollyanna changes the lives of those around her by suggesting that they look for things to be glad about when times get tough. And, to do this, she plays something called "The Glad Game."

To play "The Glad Game" you simply examine the bad situation and look for the good in it. The game started for Pollyanna when she was living with her parents who were serving as missionaries. Being missionaries, they had to write and ask for anything they needed or wanted that was unavailable where they lived. Pollyanna wanted a doll, so her father wrote to ask for one. However, when the shipment arrived, a pair of crutches had been sent in place of the doll. So, her father invented "The Glad Game."

I'm guessing you'll see where this is headed. Her father told her not to be sad about not getting a doll but to be glad that she didn't need the crutches.

I guess this could seem like a delusional way of going through life, but there's something really satisfying about looking for the good rather than dwelling on the bad, even if the way you look for the good seems a little silly.

Lately I've been feeling a bit like Pollyanna. It really goes against my nature to do this, so you can imagine my discomfort. But, I think "The Glad Game," as silly as it may be, is a good way of thinking about spiritual discipline, and I think that it can teach us a lot about how we should interact with other people. If we look to Luke 6:27 and 28, we learn the following:

"But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you."

I think that when we start doing those things, it changes the way we view difficult situations and it transforms the way we handle tough interactions with people. When you start loving people, blessing them, and praying for them, you really start using all things for good. It's very easy to look a a bad situation and see only the bad, and it's natural for us to do so. It takes more effort to play "The Glad Game" and to look for the good or, even more difficult, to find the blessings in hardship or to bless those who create that hardship.

But, I don't think we're always to do what comes easiest. Anger comes easy. Fear comes easy. Jealousy comes easy. But we don't want to live our lives in any of those, and, thankfully, we don't have to. We have the choice to work towards good, and if it takes playing "The Glad Game" to do it, I'm all for that!

Thoughts on Mother Theresa

There have been times in this blog when I've mentioned testimonies. I don't like them. At least, I've said I don't like them. Truly, there is something very inspiring about hearing people talk about all the good that God has done in their lives. It's nice.

But, the thing I don't like about testimonies is the fact that they're often so simple. They wrap up so neatly that they don't make a good short story, let alone a good story of a person's life. Then I realized that that's sort of what I do here. I sort of talk about all the positive things I see about God, church, religion, spirituality.

You know, I really do see those things, and I really do find great comfort in them. But, seeing the good side of things doesn't mean that one doesn't question, and it doesn't mean that one doesn't have hard times--hard times with faith and just hard times in general. Life is hard. That sounds trite, but there's no better way to put it.

I guess that's why I find the story of Mother Theresa so inspiring. Here was this woman who seemed so happy, so full of life and love for her God, yet for many years of her life she didn't feel His presence. I guess it is true that we are given no more than we can handle; judging from what I have read of her life, she must have been very strong.

What I mean to say is that nobody's story, not even Mother Theresa's, wraps up nicely, no matter what face they prepare to meet the faces that they meet. For every story of conversion, there are a thousand little stories of ups and downs, stories of good and bad advice, stories of answered and unanswered prayers, stories of laughter and of tears. These are the stories we don't hear, but perhaps they're the stories we should tell more often. They're certainly truer than those stories wrapped up prettier than Christmas packages.

And, although the true stories are more complex than those we often hear, I'm not sure it would be possible to really convey the fact that there is also a greater joy than there is sorrow, a greater faith than there is doubt, a greater love than there is apathy. And these are the things that make us all, like Mother Theresa, keep searching even during those dark days.

A Lesson from "The Lord's Prayer"

For some reason, my favorite part of a church service, be it Protestant or Catholic, is the part where we say "The Lord's Prayer." [Editor's Note: That's an "Our Father" for my Catholic readership.] I know that saying "The Lord's Prayer" every Sunday may seem like one of those things that can easily turn into a habit and mean very little to us after a few Sundays, but should we let it?

It seems that saying "The Lord's Prayer" should be one of those things that constantly reminds us of how we are to prayer and what our responsibility is in prayer and in our lives. I guess what I mean is, if we really think about the words while we say them, they really tell us so much about what our lives are meant to be.

When I say "The Lord's Prayer" aloud in church, along with everyone else, I can't hold onto grudges. I have to forgive those who trespass against me. It's tough, but how do I continue with the prayer and really mean it if I don't start forgiving people right then? And, how do I ask God not to lead me into temptation if I let myself rush headlong into it? It's not a prayer we pray and do nothing with; it's a prayer that tells us how to live, how to take responsibility, how to forgive others as we would have God forgive us.

I say this, not as one who has always done this. For a while, I'd been attending a church where we said "The Lord's Prayer" every Sunday, and I liked that part of the service because it seemed so churchy. You know, it just made me feel like I was really an adult in "big church." We all like to feel grown up sometimes, right? Well, this was my way of feeling grown up. I suppose there are worse ways to feel grown up, really.

But, anyways, I hadn't given much thought to saying "The Lord's Prayer" until one Sunday when I was in a bad mood. This is just to say that God often reveals Himself when we're in the midst of being rude or annoying or, well, any number of things. So, I was full of foul moods and making my way through "The Lord's Prayer" when it struck me that I didn't mean it. There were heaps of people who I had never forgiven for even the smallest things and a few who I hadn't forgiven for bigger things.

But the prayer doesn't say anything about who hurt you the smallest or the biggest. It just asks God to forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. If God really was forgiving me just as I was forgiving others, I was in big trouble because I could hold a grudge like none other; thankfully God is more gracious than I am. So, then I had to face it. I had to face that I was dead wrong not to forgive people. So, now I do. And, I've never thought about "The Lord's Prayer" in the same way since.

Sometimes we shy away from prayers that are already written out for us, thinking that sincerity can come only from a prayer that is spontaneous, but I think that sometimes we can learn unexpected lessons about prayer from other people. Learning what and how they pray may teach us ways that we can grown in our own faith. But, what is special about "The Lord's Prayer" is that it is the prayer Jesus taught us to pray, and praying this prayer teaches us to pray as we should, even if we forget the importance of it sometimes because we've prayed it so often.

Are We Skinny Fat?

Not so long ago, Allure magazine published an article about skinny fat women. Seems like a contradiction of those two terms, right? Well, not necessarily. What the article was talking about were those women who so desire to be a size double-zero or to maintain a particular weight that they focus in on that size or weight, often to the peril of their health. These women were referred to as skinny fat because, though they appeared to be skinny (often underweight by healthy standards), they actually had very high percentages of body fat. Their eating and workout habits were unhealthy, so the women, in turn, were unhealthy.

I thought about that last night as I went on my first run in...well...quite a while. I would never, ever put myself in the category of skinny, but I'd done a pretty good job of losing and keeping off some weight with healthy diet and exercise. I know, what a concept! But, then I got lazy and stopped exercising. Isn't that how it always happens? So, I looked to the scale as a guide, and according to the scale I was doing just fine. My weight hadn't really moved in either direction, so I felt pretty good about myself. Even when I could tell that the muscle tone was fading and my endurance was lessening, I stuck to the idea that I was fine because the scale said so.

And then it happened. Ten pounds jumped right on me. Without warning. Okay, the fact that I was desperately addicted to burritos might have been a warning. Afterall, we're all familiar with the following truth:

(giant burrito) + (no exercise) = TEN POUNDS JUMPING ON YOUR BODY!

Yes, ten yucky pounds of squish. Sorry to be graphic, but gain of fat, unlike gain of muscle, is not a pretty thing. Believe me, I felt all of that weight while I was running last night, and, as I ran, I could remember a time when running, because my body was disciplined to it, was much easier. It was easier to breathe, to stretch my legs, to push for just one more lap. This isn't to say that any Olympic records were in danger of being broken by me, but it is to say that there was a time when the work I put into my running was noticeable in how comfortable I was doing it and how much a part of my life it had become.

This morning, as I frowned about my aching muscles and listened to the radio, I heard a woman discussing how we can become spiritually malnourished. She was discussing this spiritual malnourishment as analogous to malnourishment of the body, and this analogy made a lot of sense, really. I thought about those skinny fat women and how they deny their bodies health in order to maintain a particular weight or size that they (and probably society as well) have decided is perfect, despite the fact that this "perfect" body type goes against what their bodies actually need. Though it can't be easy to maintain that weight, it does present some sort of comfort to fit into a mold they are being told or imagining they must fit. In some ways, they are fulfilling an obligation to be so thin but risking their well-being by doing so.

I started to wonder if we may, at times, be skinny fat in a spiritual sense. Perhaps there are ways that we get out of shape while still fitting into the mold we are told we must fill. It's very hard to get out there and run; it's hot and uncomfortable and sweaty. And it hurts. Likewise, spiritually it's difficult to commit to actually believing, to actually following, to actually making God a part of our lives. But that's exactly the kind of work that must happen in order to keep ourselves nourished, in order to keep ourselves spiritually in shape. In the book Spiritual Arts, Jill Briscoe writes:

"As the Holy Spirit does his transforming work within us, we must cooperate. We must give way to the Spirit's prompting, give in to his plans for our lives, and embrace the work he has for us to do. We need to work out what he is working in" (9).

In this way, we can't be content to be passive receivers of blessings, just like we can't expect to be fed by someone else or have someone else doing our running for us. Surely those things would be nice, albeit a little weird. But, we must be both open to what we are supposed to do and willing to actually do it. It is real work and takes real dedication, just as it takes real dedication to run a few miles, which I'm hopefully working towards!

However, it does seem that the rewards for this type of dedication to spiritual fitness and nourishment are tremendous. And, in reality, wouldn't we all prefer to be healthy and in shape rather than just skinny fat?

On Prayer

Sometimes, you just get something stuck in your head. Usually, it's a song. And, usually, it's a fairly annoying one. I've never managed to get a song I really like stuck in my head; it always seems to be something really dreadful, something completely pop.

But, lately, I've had a couple of Bible verses stuck in my head. Weird, right? But, the thing is, as with most things you get stuck in your head, I couldn't remember all of it. I was trying to remember the whole of 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, but I could only remember verse 17. The whole of it is as follows:

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

All I could remember was to "pray without ceasing," but that isn't it. We aren't told just to pray; we must also "rejoice always" and "give thanks in all circumstances." Rejoice and give thanks always? Really? Even when we pray?

Apparently so.

Last night as I was reading from Streams in the Desert, a book I highly recommend, the advice was the same. When we pray, we are to give thanks, even when we are asking God for things. It's a difficult thing to really put into practice, to always give thanks. How often are we praying because we feel like we've come to the end of our rope and have nowhere to go but God? How easy is it to ask for help with a thankful heart? Not very. But, prayer is one of those spiritual arts, one of those things that takes practice to understand and to learn about.

C.S. Lewis remarked in Surprised by Joy that the first time he approached prayer it was because his mother was very ill. He prayed for her to be healed, but she died. His explanation of this is really interesting and, honestly, a bit convicting. He writes,

"I had approached God, or my idea of God, without love, without awe, even without fear. He was, in my mental picture of this miracle, to appear neither as Savior nor as Judge, but merely as a magician; and when He had done what was required of Him I suposed He would simply--well, go away. It never crossed my mind that the tremendous contact which I solicited should have any consequences beyond restoring the status quo" (21).

And, isn't that so often how it happens? There is no real desire for anything more than for a wish to be granted, certainly no desire to continue any sort of relationship. I have to admit, I've prayed many prayers in just this way, prayers for me to get what I want without having to commit to anything more than reaping the benefits of answered prayer. It should probably come as no surprise that most of those prayers were not prayed in a spirit of thanksgiving or that there was no rejoicing or that those prayers were not part of a ceaseless prayer that should have been my life.

So, while verse 17 is important because it reminds us that we must "pray without ceasing," it's the two other verses that instruct us in just how we should say those prayers. With rejoicing and thanksgiving. And, those are some ideas that aren't so bad to get stuck in your head.

A Favorite Hymn

I am a huge fan of liturgy and old hymns. I know I'm not supposed to be because I'm young(ish) and supposed to want church to be hip and cool. Though, the fact that I just used those two words probably means that I'm neither of them. But, nonetheless, there's just something about the lyrics of old hymns that makes you stop and think. And, there's something about the melodies that just makes you want to belt out the songs.

But, one of my favorite hymns isn't like that at all. In fact, it's more like a prayer. It's more like a prayer that's really difficult to pray and also to mean.

Here are the lyrics:

"Spirit of God, descend upon my heart;
Wean it from earth; through all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou art;
And make me love Thee as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.

Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear.
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh,
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.

Hast Thou not bid me love Thee, God and King?
All, all Thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind.
I see Thy cross; there teach my heart to cling:
O let me seek Thee, and O let me find!

Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame;
The kindling of the heaven descended Dove,
My heart an altar, and Thy love the flame."

It's a rough one to sing and really mean, right? I mean, you're basically asking for the hard stuff. You're asking for God to teach you by making your life difficult. You're asking, really asking for God to take you and do what He will with your life. That's a hard prayer to pray. But, then again, isn't that just the prayer that we often need?

Don't we often need for things to be as terrible, as desperate as they can be before we ever search for the reason that they're so bad? My mother often says that sometimes things have to get to their absolute worst before we ever think to look up. I always fought looking up, seriously hardened and calloused myself against it, purposely looked down or straight ahead rather than ever humbling myself enough to finally look up to see who I should be looking to.

It's hard to admit to having the weakness that this song speaks of and sometimes harder still to quiet the rebelliousness that selfishness fosters. This song asks for no sign in return, just the ability to love God enough. It's easy to believe that we love God enough, but this song says so well that we need to be taught to love even more, as much as the angels, and that even our hearts must cling to the cross, the symbol of true love.

So, this song is very special to me because that's just what it talks about. When I read these words, they remind me of what I should be doing--humbling myself, asking to be given the difficult tasks, looking to God, and giving all that I have to live the life I'm supposed to be living. It's not easy. Sometimes it's not even fun. But there is joy, and there is love.

On Terriers and Papier Mache Feelings

One of my Philosophy professors used to tell stories during class. They were always interesting, much more interesting than having a regular lecture. One day he was telling us about his dog, a trusty terrier, and their adventures on a walk. It seems that this trusty terrier loved to chase squirrels. As the parent of a trusty terrier myself, I can attest that they love nothing more than the thrill of spotting a bushy-tailed squirrel and growling as if possessed. As small as my little Greta is, just seven pounds, even she gets overcome with, well, some sort of bloodthirsty rage it seems.

These dogs become so intent, so alert that it's an amazing thing to see; it's as if all of the energy of the little dog is focused on the squirrel. My professor remarked that, on seeing the dog's reaction to the squirrel, he felt like papier mache. What a good description.

I was just wondering, how much of our lives do we feel just like that--papier mache, nothing solid, no strength behind us, no connection to anything that makes us feel as alert as that terrier with a squirrel in sight? Sometimes, it seems like too much time is spent like that.

But, why? I mean, I've felt like papier mache an awful lot. I guess some of that feeling comes down to not having strong beliefs about much of anything, just feeling sort of adrift. It's not a good feeling to be feeling like that. You want something to grab onto, something that you're passionate about, something you're willing to both live and die for. That's what keeps us from feeling like papier mache.

So, I've been working on grabbing onto those beliefs and strengthening them, working to really live them. When there are beliefs you really stand for, you feel less like papier mache, more like you're solid and strong. I guess that part of this is feeling like there's something true in your life, something very real.

Oddly enough, the other day someone called me a radical, so I guess it's working. But, that seems funny. Me? A radical? I like baking cookies and buying lipgloss. But, even though it's weird, it's still good to hear. Perhaps I've spent too much time in Philippians lately and I've just stopped caring about being mild about things. Perhaps mild just isn't where it's at. Perhaps we all should be a bit radical. Perhaps I'll go take the radical terrier for a walk.

Knowing God

When I was young, I heard a lot of conversion stories. We were Baptists, so we called them testimonies. Testimonies were a big part of the story of Christianity, as in the story of how one becomes a Christian, how one comes to know God. You see, everyone has a testimony. Some are pretty basic, and some are pretty, well, interesting.

The testimony that many people have is of being born into a family of Christians and growing up to be Christians. Perhaps there's a part of that testimony that involves a few years at Bible College or something. But then there are the interesting testimonies, stories chock-full of sin and vice. I have to admit, they may have been a bad influence to hear at a young age, but they were tons of fun. When you're young, you hear the story as a pretty basic tale of sin and salvation in which the former wanderer emerges unscathed and saved by grace. While the "saved by grace" part is true, I think the wisdom of a little age tells us that the former wanderer probably doesn't feel completely unscathed after those years of wandering.

Nevertheless, I always wanted to have whatever those former wanderers had. I mean, I didn't want the years of sin and all of that, but that wasn't all that they had. What they had was a sort of gratefulness for all that they had been given by God. It always seemed that they somehow knew God in a way that I didn't and probably never would. They talked freely of how God had rescued and saved them. This I couldn't understand at all.

I grew up in a family of Christians. We went to church every Sunday and most Wednesdays too. I went to Christian school, so when we went to church, I knew all of the Bible stories better than anyone in Sunday School. I memorized Bible verses quickly and even won memorization contests. In short, my soul was fine, and I had much to be proud about.

But, there's that word "proud." Sure, I was winning awards for memorizing Bible verses, but, to be honest, I just liked winning. In fact, I loved and still love winning. And, I won a lot. Winning feels good. Getting good grades feels good, and I've generally been good at both of those things, save a few lazy years in undergrad. So, I've had a lot to be proud about. I should be proud of me. Except that, being proud of me meant that I didn't need anyone else telling me what to do. In short, I didn't really need God. Except that I did.

The thing is this. I already knew God. I'd known all about Him from the time I was very young. And, to me, knowing God meant going to church and being good and praying that He would forgive your sins. You could also pray for people you knew who were sick or something. And, to do those things was to follow God and to know Him.

But, that's not how the people with the really interesting testimonies talked about God. The way I understood knowing Him was pretty sterile compared to the way those people talked about Him. I mean, they talked about God like they really knew Him. They spoke of God rescuing them like someone might speak of a person who'd dragged him out of a burning building. And, it seemed like they talked to God as if He was someone you could really talk to. And, they always, always seemed grateful.

It was the grateful part that seemed hardest to understand. And why should it not? You rarely find people who are both proud and humble, proud and grateful. That combination doesn't work very well. To be grateful for something means having to admit that you needed help in the first place, and I'm not someone who needs help. Except that I am. Except that we all are.

So, in some ways, I now get to be a convert, to have the excitement of someone who is just coming to the Bible and to a relationship with God for the first time, having spent some time away from reading the Bible, from knowing God. In some ways, we all get to do this, even those of us who've never left. We all have the opportunity to come to these things fresh and new, looking for that which we've never seen or heard before, constantly seeking to understand God and His Word in a new way. When we think of it that way, how exciting is all of this? It's something more than just religion, really.

And I think of that in my Bible Study. We begin each study with the discussion leader (yes, the same woman I accosted after the first study) reading from the Bible. And, after she reads, she says, "This is the Word of God." And, this being a Baptist church, she's not waiting for us to respond, "Thanks be to God," though that's what I'm used to saying. No. Rather, she's simply saying, with all of her heart, with all of the excitement she has, with all sincere belief and a huge smile on her face, "This is the Word of God." It's as if she's just read to us from a letter, written to her from someone who loves her more than anyone possibly can. It's that kind of excitement. And, I have to think that that's what it's meant to be like. Even though there will be troubles in life because we're all human and have to deal with such things, that feeling of true love must be what it is to know God, to understand His unfailing love for us and His unending desire that we come to know Him.

Ladies Bible Study, Take Two

Tonight I returned to Ladies Bible Study. Before I tell more about it, I have a confession to make, and that confession is that I had never gone to Bible Study before I joined this one. For this reason, I had no idea what to expect when it came to the rather innocently named "homework" we were to do in preparation for tonight's meeting. So, last week when the other ladies heard that we had seventeen pages of homework and seemed a little stressed about it, I didn't know what to make of their reactions.

My thought was, "How bad can it be? I read bajillions of pages for school every week. Seventeen pages is pretty light, really." Yes, I know. Pride goeth...

So, today I learned what it meant to study. I mean, really study. I learned what it meant to follow along with a study that took me from Genesis to Revelations and many points in between. It was intense, probably the most intense studying I've done in some time. And, the thing is, I'd read most of this stuff before or at least knew the stories. Many of the big players were represented. We had Original Sin, Noah and the Flood, Abraham and Isaac. Like I said, we covered a lot of ground.

But the weird thing was this. Even though I knew all of those stories before, it was a completely different experience reading them now. And what made it different is that the stories made sense together as a whole, rather than as a series of interesting but unconnected stories. Suddenly, the story of the Flood was much more than a story I learned as a kid. And the story of Abraham and Isaac was more than a story that should make any kid view her parents with at least a tinge of suspicion or nervousness.

Rather, the stories came together to tell the same story again and again. They all tell the story of a God who is constantly calling His people back to Him, despite the sin in their lives and despite their inability to do even the simplest things, like not eating the fruit. They tell the story of a God who asks very little of His people except that they create a place for Him in their lives--a tabernacle, in the case of the Old Testament--and that they keep that place pure. The theme of the "wilderness experience" that kept coming up in our Bible Study last week is also a common thread which ties to this concept of man's sin in relation to a sinless God. It seems that there is always a time at which people become separated from God, usually a wilderness experience precipitated by sin--or in the case of Job, a time when God seems so far away. But, even (and perhaps especially) in those wilderness times, God never ceases to call His people back to Him, though it may also be at those times that His voice is hardest to hear.

I have to say, that the stories were pretty amazing when read in this light. More than just something to hear in Vacation Bible School or Sunday School, they became one story of a beautiful gift from God.

So far, this Bible Study thing has been pretty good. I never really thought of myself as the Bible Study type, I guess. But, it makes reading the Bible make so much more sense, and it gives a real structure to it that I could never do on my own, structure and organization being two, um, weak points. I'll keep updating the progress of Bible Study, though I don't want to ruin it for anyone who'll do the same study!

Review: Ladies Bible Study

So, I went to Ladies Bible Study last week. Because I was raised Baptist, I knew to expect the following:

1. It would start late.
2. There would be food.

Well, these ladies did not disappoint on either count. There was plenty of food, and we started about 15 minutes later than scheduled. Some things you can just count on.

And it seems like that's one of the nice things about church. There is a certain comfort there, a certain something that you can expect.

And, then there are the things that you can't expect. The things you'd never anticipate in a million years. Like, I never would have expected I'd nearly break down crying during Ladies Bible Study. I don't like to cry, especially not in front of people, especially not in a room full of strangers. But I started to. Every single time the group leader--a woman who was clearly on fire for Jesus--said the phrase "wilderness experience." As in, "You may be going through a wilderness experience right now." I just really wished she'd stop saying that. And, then we watched a video, and that speaker kept talking about how God pursues us. She said it again and again. By this time, I was feeling a little irate. I mean, stop talking about this stuff already. But they didn't. And, the oddest thing was, these women both seemed genuinely filled with joy, and that made me wonder about them.

So I, quite uncharacteristically, decided to go up to the group leader to talk about the fact that I nearly burst into tears everytime she said "wilderness experience." I didn't want to do this, but I felt almost compelled to. When I went up to her, I must have looked a wreck. I felt a wreck. So, I just started talking to her. About God, about religion, about school. I was talking to a complete stranger. I was talking to the on fire for Jesus lady, the lady who I strongly suspected had never so much as missed one devotional in her whole life. I mean, maybe she opened her eyes once or twice during prayers, but I'm sure that was it. Who on earth was I? More to the point, who was she? And why was I talking to her? Well, as it turns out, she (the on fire for Jesus lady) finished her PhD in the same department I'm in, 17 years ago. And, we talked a little about her life back then. Turns out, she was a lot more like me than I'd have ever guessed.

I know that sounds surprising. Like I said earlier, there are some things you could never anticipate in a million years. But, it didn't feel surprising. It was like I was living out those stories that I've heard and read and seen in church a hundred times before. It was like taking apart the parts of a short story of my life. I knew where to expect the character development, the plot twists, the rising action, the foreshadowing. And I guess I knew that none of this was a huge surprise. In fact, when I look back, it all just looks like a big, well-ordered plan.

And, that's part of the comfort of church. Even when there is no liturgy, there are no real surprises, just small acts and small revelations that let us see the bigger plan. I'll be going back tomorrow to see what else happens!

Joy

The first job I ever had was sacking groceries at Randall's. The thing I will always remember about my first day of work is how much my face hurt from smiling so much. I guess it was a good thing though because I remember doing pretty well with tips when I had that job. But, I hated that job more than was probably reasonable, and after about two months I quit.

Today I remembered how much it hurts to smile sometimes. I started reading a book called Spiritual Arts: Mastering the Disciplines for a Rich Spiritual Life. It's by Jill Briscoe, who I know next to nothing about, but I've been interested in learning more about spiritual disciplines. I also like that the discussion of spiritual arts is drawn from Philippians--a short book that contains so much, and the author does a really neat job of explaining that the work we do to grow spiritually can be seen as an art. She writes:

"There is as much spiritual discipline needed on my part as the self-discipline needed for the rest of the arts. Just as I need to study the art of music and practice it, so must I study the art of humility and practice it" (9).

So, spirituality is not something that happens to us; it's something we must work at. We must work to better understand the purpose of these arts in our lives and to understand God's purpose for us.

I've only made it through the first of the spiritual arts--ministry. Personally, I think she started with the toughest art to practice! What seems so difficult is just what I talked about earlier--how hard it is to smile sometimes. But this is Paul's message to the Philippians, that ministry should be an act of joy. In fact, the words "joy" or "rejoice" appear in all four chapters of the book of Philippians. There is to be joy in prayer. Joy in all that we do. And, we have to keep reminding ourselves that this is a letter written by a man in jail, a man who may well lose his life.

But, even though I'm not in jail, it is hard to smile sometimes. Sometimes it's hard to feel happy. But, maybe that's the mistake. Maybe, like the author argues, happiness is something changeable, while joy is a constant. Pehaps it's just a bit off to search for happiness when it's joy that brings true, lasting fulfillment. Maybe we can have joy even when it seems like happiness is far away.

I'll keep reading and let you know! And, if you haven't already, I highly suggest reading Philippians!

In Which I Give up on Being Cool

Today I gave up on being cool. It was a struggle because I've been hoping for quite a while that I could hold onto some of that coolness I've always imagined myself to have. Perhaps I've been a bit misguided in ever assuming that I was cool to begin with. I certainly wasn't cool in high school, and I'm not really sure what counted as cool in college. But, I read cool books and listened to cool music and had cool opinions on things. I was a cool English major, which at least gave me cool stuff to talk about or think about.

None of that is gone, really. But, I feel like today was an official marker in the death of any coolness I might have once had. Today I joined a Bible study. At a Baptist church. A ladies Bible study at a Baptist church. I'm making cookies to take to tomorrow night's meeting.

Cookies. Ladies Bible study. Baptist church.

First off, anything with the word "ladies" in it is usually a little uncool, unless "ladies" is used in a funny, somewhat ironic sort of way. "Ladies" means things like Ladies Auxiliary Meetings, and there's nothing cool about chilling with the geriatric set and talking about missions while you chug sherbet punch and eat crunchy little cookies. Nope. It's not cool. Second off, I feel uncool because I'm doing this of my own free will. Yes, I'm heading off to ladies Bible study because I want to go. And maybe a little because I need to go.

I guess I'm feeling a little like Donald Miller when he talks about needing to be part of a community. I don't do community. I don't even like the word that much, and I even wrote a paper on my dislike of it. It was a pretty cool paper, in my opinion.

But that's just it. what he talks about is needing, not wanting, community. I feel like I need the ladies Bible study because one can't grow in a vacuum. In fact we're not even supposed to try. Spiritual growth requires learning from others and helping others to grow and learn as well.

As uncool as it is, ladies Bible study is a part of that. I never wanted to go to Bible study before because I didn't think it fit who I was. For a long time, I really wanted to find a God as cool as me. One that understood life in a more sophisticated, cosmopolitan way. A way that required very little effort on my part except for believing. Unfortunately, I found that that God just isn't out there. Or, perhaps I should say, I found that I could worship in that way, but it really only led to my worshipping myself. Any of you who know me can probably attest that I am good at that. I spend a lot of time spiffing up the outside of the Temple of Me with cool shoes and cool hair. Or, filling the inside with a lot of cool knowledge, being happy about being smart. But, in the end, none of that proved fulfilling. It didn't really feel so cool to realize that the end of it was just me.

So, as uncool as ladies Bible study is, I'm going to it. I hope it's every bit as uncool as I think it will be!

Book Review: Blue Like Jazz, Part Two

To begin with, yes, this is two blogs in one day. It may be a record. Not a world record but a record for this blog, especially given my laziness toward blogging.

That said, I realize that I've written about Blue Like Jazz before, but I also realize that I said next to nothing about it. Now, I'm not wanting to spoil it for people, but I do want to talk about what I liked about this book. To begin with, I like its subtitle, "Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality." I know it sounds a little crunchy granola, a little like the book will be some wishy-washy look at Christianity. To be fair, in some ways, it is like that. The author doesn't set out to articulate religious doctrine or lay out a clear cut code of ethics. Personally, I don't think that providing an ethic is the end goal of Christianity, but I do think ethics are a necessary part of really living out the faith. So, why do I like this book?

Well, I mainly like the book because we already know the rules of Christianity. Even those of us who've never gone to church have a pretty good idea what the rules--all the do's and don'ts--are. Well, perhaps we have a much better view of the don'ts than of the do's, but, in any case, we know all of the rules, even if we do a terrible job of following them.

In short, we have a very good idea of religion without much of an idea of spirituality, and it's in understanding the relationship of spirituality to religion that we get a real sense of why we follow the rules. It's that understanding which allows us, even encourages us, to follow those rules out of love and devotion rather than out of duty. To get biblical about it, it's sort of like Paul's letter to the Philippians, when he writes of praying that their "love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight." It seems here that it is important, necessary even, that love of God be in communion with knowledge of God.

And, in this knowing of God, we're called beyond just avoiding the don'ts and toward working on the do's. In other words, we become people who are not so concerned with what not to do that we forget the things we need to do; we remember that Christianity is about discipline but that it is about discipline toward holiness, not just discipline away from sin.

And, when we really think of it, most of the Christian disciplines--prayer, Bible reading, fasting, worship--are about doing things that draw us closer to God, not about focusing on acts that take us further from God. It is in understanding those disciplines of devotion that we get a better understanding of a personal relationship to God, of seeing God's place in our lives and ordering our lives in such a way that we can follow that will.

So, why I like Blue Like Jazz is not because it has any clear plan for what any of us should do. Reading this book isn't like reading the writings of someone who has lived out the faith and never strayed or questioned; it's more like reading the writings of someone who also searches even though he has already found his way. I like that the book moves us away from just worrying about rules and toward thinking of God as real. Donald Miller writes, in the beginning of the book,

"I am early in my story, but I believe I will stretch out into eternity, and in heaven I will reflect upon these early days, these days when it seemed God was down a dirt road, walking toward me. Years ago He was a swinging speck in the distance; now He is close enough I can hear His singing. Soon I will see the lines on His face."

And, I think, when we see God like this, when we know God is real and is love, the rules become easier to follow; they just become a part of love. We realize that by following the rules and through living out the disciplines we come to truly know God.

Some Thoughts

When I was a kid, I was usually preoccupied in church. I spent most of the sermon (that's a homily for my Catholic readership) engrossed in reading rather than paying attention. I'd read the church bulletin a lot, but, often, I'd just read the Bible. And, thus began a descent into a life in which books provided comfort or, in this case, an escape from boredom.

My favorite reads during my sermon boycotts were Song of Solomon, Job, Ruth, and Esther. Perhaps it was growing up Baptist that drew me to Ruth and Esther; I just needed to know what the women had to say! But, Job was also a favorite. Perhaps I knew, even as a kid, that life was going to be tough and sometimes lonely, that I would need the help of a higher power in order to get through it. Whatever it was, the story of Job who lost everything--children, wife, friends, possessions--but kept his faith in God, was my favorite to read.

So, I turned to that not so long ago, to remember what I had read so long ago. And it really is amazing how different it was to read, When you're young, reading about Job losing his children sounds terrifying because you, as a child, identify as someone's child. But to read it as an adult, even as an adult who doesn't have children, brings out what a feeling of loss and powerlessness Job must have had to not be able to protect his children.

So, I'm in the middle of reading Job right now. I'm still in the part where he's losing everything, where he's cursing the day of his birth. And, you can feel free to read those last two sentences metaphorically with relation to my spiritual life. I know that I would. But I majored in English, so everything is a metaphor in some ways.

But, that aside, in the beginning of Job, I found two verses that I think really show what the story is about. What you have to remember is that Job was a holy man with whom God found no fault. Job was the epitome of a person living a life exactly as God wanted him to. So, these verses are taken a bit out of context because they're the words of Job's friend, begging Job to repent. Job has nothing to repent though. His life is just hard because God knows that Job is strong enough in his faith to handle it (perhaps the recent news of Mother Theresa's struggles is a good parallel here). But, out of the context of Job's life, I really felt like these verses were good because I don't know anyone who is perfect like Job. I'm certainly not, and I know the struggle to be perfect is just that, a struggle. And, not living up to it is hard, but it's harder still to quit trying. So, the verses are these:

"Blessed is the man whom God corrects; so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty. For he wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal." Job 5:17&18

For some reason, after quoting a Bible verse, I feel like I should say, "This is the word of God for the people of God." And then you would all say, "Thanks be to God." But that's my Methodist side.

Anyways, I just felt like there was great comfort in those verses because feeling like one has done wrong is very difficult, and being in the middle of hard times is unbearable. But, it is good to know that God's healing also comes if we look for it.

Academia

So...the fact that I constantly examine my place in academia will not come as any surprise to my faithful readers (ok, reader singular. thanks for reading, greta. you're the best!). But I do question it because questioning is what I do. Sometimes with the hope of answering the question but often knowing there's no hope of answering the question.

But, lately, I'm not questioning my place in academia so much as I'm just questioning academia. I'm just wondering if we ever actually listen to ourselves talk. What are we talking about? Does any of it make or really work toward any ultimate good? And, if it doesn't oughtn't we start doing those things or at least working toward them? And, tangentially related but also totally off topic, why don't we hear the word "selfish" very often anymore? I'm not sure, but I think it's a word we need to focus on. It's a word we need to consider in all our interactions because it's a word we easily forget, to disastrous consequence.

Perhaps these aren't good questions. I certainly haven't worked on formulating them, mainly because I've been taking care of my readership...the as-of-late very needy greta.