No, really. I must confess. I must confess that I have been covetous. It's been an ongoing thing. Every time I've seen someone with an Apple laptop, I have coveted that laptop.
I have been envious of the laptop owner and lustful of the laptop. I have sinned. Oh, how I have sinned.
However, I decided that rather than simply confess my sin and try to get over it, I'd just rush right into laptop ownership. That's right, folks. I am now the proud (oh, another sin) owner of a MacBook.
It's black. It's sleek. It's the cutest thing in my whole apartment, besides the hot pink iPod shuffle that came with it. And that shuffle is already charged and loaded up with tons of songs. Truly, I'm a total convert to the Apple. I love it.
And with this laptop, I plan on writing lots of blogs. I have plenty of ideas, and now I have something wonderful to write with!
Believe me, there's plenty of stuff I can tell you about my spring break. And I intend to. Here are just a few things I learned over the break:
1. You should be very careful when burning large amounts of paper.
2. Martin van Buren had funny hair.
3. Moo Tracks is delicious and is, quite possibly, a new favorite ice cream flavor for me.
Also, Easter was wonderful, and I'll write more about it. Okay, that's about all for now. I will be posting more. Promise!
Love,
Sara
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Goodbye, Computer
Oh my goodness!
My computer broke. Really, my computer has been lethargic and moody for some time now, and yesterday it decided to call it quits and just die. I should have seen it coming. There were all sorts of cries for help, but I didn't pay attention. I tried to make my computer heal itself, but it just couldn't.
So now my computer is on a truck to somewhere to be taken care of by the top computer specialists in the country. Someday, in two to four weeks, the computer will come back to me good as new-ish. And then we'll have good times again. Then my computer will be happy, just like when we first met, back when it was my shiny new computer.
I write this to say that my blogging might not be anywhere near regular, and for that I'm super sorry. I had tons of good ideas for new blogs. I even made up a little list of blog topics and was ready to write them and check them off as they were written. See? I was nearly, gasp, organized!!!
Oh well, someday the little lappy will come back to me, and then there will be plenty of blogs and plenty of work done.
Other than that, it's been a great Sunday. I'm even thinking about making some outrageous brownies for my students. I keep meaning to do something nice like that because they're all nice students, but I haven't done it yet. So, either I'll make some today or I'll wait until after the break, as some may be Lenting right now and unable to enjoy sugar or chocolate!
Okay, I hope you all have a great Sunday. Remember to rest!!!
Love!
Sara
My computer broke. Really, my computer has been lethargic and moody for some time now, and yesterday it decided to call it quits and just die. I should have seen it coming. There were all sorts of cries for help, but I didn't pay attention. I tried to make my computer heal itself, but it just couldn't.
So now my computer is on a truck to somewhere to be taken care of by the top computer specialists in the country. Someday, in two to four weeks, the computer will come back to me good as new-ish. And then we'll have good times again. Then my computer will be happy, just like when we first met, back when it was my shiny new computer.
I write this to say that my blogging might not be anywhere near regular, and for that I'm super sorry. I had tons of good ideas for new blogs. I even made up a little list of blog topics and was ready to write them and check them off as they were written. See? I was nearly, gasp, organized!!!
Oh well, someday the little lappy will come back to me, and then there will be plenty of blogs and plenty of work done.
Other than that, it's been a great Sunday. I'm even thinking about making some outrageous brownies for my students. I keep meaning to do something nice like that because they're all nice students, but I haven't done it yet. So, either I'll make some today or I'll wait until after the break, as some may be Lenting right now and unable to enjoy sugar or chocolate!
Okay, I hope you all have a great Sunday. Remember to rest!!!
Love!
Sara
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Confessing Again
Perhaps "confessing" is too strong a term for what I'm about to do here. Maybe I'm just making an observation about a habit of mine. And, maybe that habit of mine is a bad one. But, this habit of mine is not as bad as some other habits. It's much better than the habits some other people have, and it's even better than some other habits I have. In short, this habit isn't such a bad thing.
Well, now that I'm done justifying myself, I'll go ahead and talk about it. My habit is that I always look ahead and fail to see what's going on in the moment. Not so bad, right?
But, the thing is, I think it's a real problem. You see, I got to thinking about how many times I begin sentences with a phrase like, "As soon as I." Such as, "As soon as I feel more comfortable with my faith, I'll be more open about discussing it." Or, "As soon as I feel like a stronger Christian, I'll do more work at church or with some volunteer group."
Honestly, before I started volunteering at the pregnancy center, I had a lot of thoughts running around my head about how I needed to be more spiritual/religious/Jesusy/on fire. I thought I needed to know so many more things about, well, everything, and yet the women at the pregnancy center seemed to think that I would be a great fit there.
Seriously? Me? I kept thinking that until I knew all sorts of stuff or until I could be seen as a better example I just wasn't good enough to be the kind of person who could really reach people in the way that you need to reach people who come to a pregnancy center for help.
I wonder how many of us struggle with that same feeling. We feel that we must be whole and complete ourselves before we can help people in need. Or we feel that we must have it all together before we can reach out to others. After all, how can someone who doesn't have it all together really help anyone? I certainly don't understand how that person can be of any help.
The other day I was doing some reading for a Bible Study that I go to on Thursday nights. Part of the reading really spoke to me, and I wanted to share it with everyone. Here it is,
"The true reason you are on this earth may be different from what you once thought your purpose would be. The role you always thought you might fulfill may not be at all what God has actually asked you to do.
This doesn't mean that God doesn't still have certain roles, relationships, and opportunities ahead for you. It does mean that right where you are, God has a very specific purpose for you to fulfill."
How great is that? What I love about it is that it speaks to that need to always say, "As soon as I, " and it just lets you know that, no, right now God has a very specific purpose for you. It's true that God wants to see us grow, for us to seek Him, for us to try to discern His purpose for our lives. However, I don't think that He means for us to lose sight of how He can use us just as we are. I don't think He means for us to lose sight of all that is around us, of all the people who need to be helped and loved and listened to just because we are still waiting for our lives to completely change.
In fact, sometimes it is in reaching out, in seeking ways to help others, that our lives really do start to change, that God really begins to minister to those parts of us that are still hurting, still crushed, still in need of a loving God to bind them up. Sometimes it is in those times when we stop listening to our own protests and start listening to God that we finally see what we are meant to be doing, who we are meant to be. So now I'm trying to follow the example from Isaiah 6:8 and always remember to respond when I am called, despite my own worries and feelings of inadequacy. As it says,
"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'"
And perhaps, when I make that my focus, I'll stop saying, "As soon as I" and start saying, "As soon as He."
Well, now that I'm done justifying myself, I'll go ahead and talk about it. My habit is that I always look ahead and fail to see what's going on in the moment. Not so bad, right?
But, the thing is, I think it's a real problem. You see, I got to thinking about how many times I begin sentences with a phrase like, "As soon as I." Such as, "As soon as I feel more comfortable with my faith, I'll be more open about discussing it." Or, "As soon as I feel like a stronger Christian, I'll do more work at church or with some volunteer group."
Honestly, before I started volunteering at the pregnancy center, I had a lot of thoughts running around my head about how I needed to be more spiritual/religious/Jesusy/on fire. I thought I needed to know so many more things about, well, everything, and yet the women at the pregnancy center seemed to think that I would be a great fit there.
Seriously? Me? I kept thinking that until I knew all sorts of stuff or until I could be seen as a better example I just wasn't good enough to be the kind of person who could really reach people in the way that you need to reach people who come to a pregnancy center for help.
I wonder how many of us struggle with that same feeling. We feel that we must be whole and complete ourselves before we can help people in need. Or we feel that we must have it all together before we can reach out to others. After all, how can someone who doesn't have it all together really help anyone? I certainly don't understand how that person can be of any help.
The other day I was doing some reading for a Bible Study that I go to on Thursday nights. Part of the reading really spoke to me, and I wanted to share it with everyone. Here it is,
"The true reason you are on this earth may be different from what you once thought your purpose would be. The role you always thought you might fulfill may not be at all what God has actually asked you to do.
This doesn't mean that God doesn't still have certain roles, relationships, and opportunities ahead for you. It does mean that right where you are, God has a very specific purpose for you to fulfill."
How great is that? What I love about it is that it speaks to that need to always say, "As soon as I, " and it just lets you know that, no, right now God has a very specific purpose for you. It's true that God wants to see us grow, for us to seek Him, for us to try to discern His purpose for our lives. However, I don't think that He means for us to lose sight of how He can use us just as we are. I don't think He means for us to lose sight of all that is around us, of all the people who need to be helped and loved and listened to just because we are still waiting for our lives to completely change.
In fact, sometimes it is in reaching out, in seeking ways to help others, that our lives really do start to change, that God really begins to minister to those parts of us that are still hurting, still crushed, still in need of a loving God to bind them up. Sometimes it is in those times when we stop listening to our own protests and start listening to God that we finally see what we are meant to be doing, who we are meant to be. So now I'm trying to follow the example from Isaiah 6:8 and always remember to respond when I am called, despite my own worries and feelings of inadequacy. As it says,
"Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'"
And perhaps, when I make that my focus, I'll stop saying, "As soon as I" and start saying, "As soon as He."
Monday, March 03, 2008
Oh the weather outside...
Oh my, was today quite a day! It started off as kind of a bleary, yucky day. The bleariness and yuckiness just continued. And, by that, I'm just talking about the weather. We had beautiful weather yesterday, but today we're back to cold, gray, snowy, rainy, and something they call a "wintry mix." Having lived here nearly three years, I can tell you that "wintry mix" is weatherman code for "stay inside and start making your Spring Break plans...think southern."
Seriously, folks, "wintry mix" is terrible!
But, anyways, I'm tough, and I can handle the "wintry mix." And, if "wintry mix" was all my day had in store, that would be okay by me. Unfortunately, there was more.
I got in a wreck.
That's right, people. I got in a wreck. Nobody is hurt or anything, so it's nothing major, nothing bad. But, I got in a wreck as I was driving with my boss in the passenger seat. Yes, you heard right. Can you imagine anything more embarrassing? You're driving along with your boss and then there's a wreck. I was a little mortified, to say the least.
Anyways, I would love to write something wonderful today, but I think I'll just be lazy instead. I also think I'll take this time to share something with you all, something I think you might enjoy, something that is very dear to my heart. It's a little video called...
"Baby Got Book" (C'mon, you know you're curious. Check it out!)
Seriously, folks, "wintry mix" is terrible!
But, anyways, I'm tough, and I can handle the "wintry mix." And, if "wintry mix" was all my day had in store, that would be okay by me. Unfortunately, there was more.
I got in a wreck.
That's right, people. I got in a wreck. Nobody is hurt or anything, so it's nothing major, nothing bad. But, I got in a wreck as I was driving with my boss in the passenger seat. Yes, you heard right. Can you imagine anything more embarrassing? You're driving along with your boss and then there's a wreck. I was a little mortified, to say the least.
Anyways, I would love to write something wonderful today, but I think I'll just be lazy instead. I also think I'll take this time to share something with you all, something I think you might enjoy, something that is very dear to my heart. It's a little video called...
"Baby Got Book" (C'mon, you know you're curious. Check it out!)
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Rest
This morning, I heard birds chirping outside of my window. I know that might sound like an idyllic way to wake up in the morning, light streaming through the window and little birds singing outside, but it's not. It was awful. There must have been nearly 500 of those little birds chirping right outside my window, all while I wanted to sleep just a little while longer, just as I wanted a little more rest. And it seemed as if they were birds of all different types, just chirping at each other, each one trying to outdo the other. And all of this as I tried to sneak in just a little more sleep.
For whatever reason, I find lack of sleep to be one of the roughest things to deal with. I mean, apart from real tragedies or serious illnesses. It's just hard to face the day when you haven't had the real, deep rest that you needed. You feel more irritable, less alive, more like you're just going through the motions.
I thought about that today in church, as I tried to keep myself awake. To be fair, I tried to keep myself awake the rest of the day too, so it wasn't church that made me sleepy. I was just sleepy.
And, in my sleepy state, I thought a lot about rest. I thought about how good I had felt last night, as I pulled my soft and squishy comforter up around my neck and positioned my head just so on my pillow. I thought about how even the colors of my bedding make me feel peaceful, the soft aqua sheets with pretty flowers and the light green blanket. And, of course, my personal favorite is that cushy white comforter. Just thinking about my bed makes me feel at peace, makes me anticipate a good rest.
But, as I sat there in the pew at church, I thought about how it's sometimes hard to feel restful when confronted with questions of faith, of religion, of God. Those questions are sometimes so unsettling that we cannot find rest, as we constantly question what is right, what is true, what is best. Sometimes it feels as if there are so many voices, all trying to get us to listen to them, all trying to make us see why their way is the right way. And in the midst of all of those voices, it's hard to find anything resembling rest because we are pulled in so many different directions.
I have to think that things shouldn't be that difficult, that somewhere there is that rest and peace which God promises us. And, as I sat in that pew today, I thought of the hymn we had sung the week before, as I stood in that same sanctuary. We sang the song, "My Faith Has Found a Resting Place." As I sung it last week and as I recalled its words today, I felt a peace that comes from hearing a great truth, the kind of rest that comes from knowing how simple things truly can be.
The whole hymn is wonderful, but I'll share the first verse and chorus with you:
"My faith has found a resting place,
Not in device or creed;
I trust the ever living One,
His wounds for me shall plead.
I need no other argument,
I need no other plea,
It is enough that Jesus died,
And that He died for me."
It's so very simple, and yet it says everything. It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me. Beautiful, really. Beautiful because of its truth, beautiful because it calls me to a greater faith in Jesus, beautiful because I can have a resting place.
And beautiful because I know that, even when those voices and arguments cause me to question my belief in many things, my belief in Jesus is what gives me rest. I know that I can hold onto the truth of Hebrews 4:14-16 which says,
"14Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. 16Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."
And that confidence in what is true, in what good and right, all of that gives me rest. It gives me the kind of rest that's even better than the kind of rest I'm about to get as I pull my comforter up around my chin tonight. And that is the kind of rest that I think all of us could use, the kind of rest we get when we accept God's grace, when we know that it's simple enough to find our resting place.
For whatever reason, I find lack of sleep to be one of the roughest things to deal with. I mean, apart from real tragedies or serious illnesses. It's just hard to face the day when you haven't had the real, deep rest that you needed. You feel more irritable, less alive, more like you're just going through the motions.
I thought about that today in church, as I tried to keep myself awake. To be fair, I tried to keep myself awake the rest of the day too, so it wasn't church that made me sleepy. I was just sleepy.
And, in my sleepy state, I thought a lot about rest. I thought about how good I had felt last night, as I pulled my soft and squishy comforter up around my neck and positioned my head just so on my pillow. I thought about how even the colors of my bedding make me feel peaceful, the soft aqua sheets with pretty flowers and the light green blanket. And, of course, my personal favorite is that cushy white comforter. Just thinking about my bed makes me feel at peace, makes me anticipate a good rest.
But, as I sat there in the pew at church, I thought about how it's sometimes hard to feel restful when confronted with questions of faith, of religion, of God. Those questions are sometimes so unsettling that we cannot find rest, as we constantly question what is right, what is true, what is best. Sometimes it feels as if there are so many voices, all trying to get us to listen to them, all trying to make us see why their way is the right way. And in the midst of all of those voices, it's hard to find anything resembling rest because we are pulled in so many different directions.
I have to think that things shouldn't be that difficult, that somewhere there is that rest and peace which God promises us. And, as I sat in that pew today, I thought of the hymn we had sung the week before, as I stood in that same sanctuary. We sang the song, "My Faith Has Found a Resting Place." As I sung it last week and as I recalled its words today, I felt a peace that comes from hearing a great truth, the kind of rest that comes from knowing how simple things truly can be.
The whole hymn is wonderful, but I'll share the first verse and chorus with you:
"My faith has found a resting place,
Not in device or creed;
I trust the ever living One,
His wounds for me shall plead.
I need no other argument,
I need no other plea,
It is enough that Jesus died,
And that He died for me."
It's so very simple, and yet it says everything. It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me. Beautiful, really. Beautiful because of its truth, beautiful because it calls me to a greater faith in Jesus, beautiful because I can have a resting place.
And beautiful because I know that, even when those voices and arguments cause me to question my belief in many things, my belief in Jesus is what gives me rest. I know that I can hold onto the truth of Hebrews 4:14-16 which says,
"14Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. 15For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. 16Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."
And that confidence in what is true, in what good and right, all of that gives me rest. It gives me the kind of rest that's even better than the kind of rest I'm about to get as I pull my comforter up around my chin tonight. And that is the kind of rest that I think all of us could use, the kind of rest we get when we accept God's grace, when we know that it's simple enough to find our resting place.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
How Big is My God?
Recently I went to a planning meeting for a fundraiser. The fundraiser is for the pregnancy center that I volunteer at. I, obviously, think it's a wonderful cause. They do so much work there, not only to provide clothes and nutrition and guidance to mothers who are facing struggles during pregnancy, but also to really show God's love and grace.
I hadn't considered how important that whole "God's love and grace" part is, but, it's one of the most important parts of their work. I started thinking about this just a while ago, as I remembered something one of the women said at the meeting.
She was talking about the need for funding. The cost for running such an operation is pretty high, and they hope to add ultrasound to their services, adding even more to the expenses. Well, the woman said that we all need to work diligently to raise funds but that we also have to rely on God. And then she said something about how big God is, and I just wondered if we ever really understand how big that really is?
I mean, how can we wrap our heads around that? How can we begin to comprehend something so outside of our understanding?
I guess what got me thinking about this, really, is that it seems that we have so many times when God seems so small. You know, we all have those times when we hurt so much, feel so terrible, struggle with physical and emotional and mental pains. And in those times, in those very dark times, it can feel like God is not big enough to shine a light into our darkness.
But, it made me wonder if those are the same times when we, feeling defeated by our surroundings or by the sad ruminations of our own brains, fail to see how big God really is. Do we assume that our God is not a big God? Do we, in our inability to see the possibility of God's light shining into our darkness, make God smaller than He really is? Do we forget that our God is the God who separated the light from the darkness, that God is light and in Him is no darkness at all?
I think we do forget that. At least, I do. I was really feeling that way not too long ago, and it was pretty difficult, as it seemed like that feeling would not go away, as I felt like my God was not a God who could make me feel any better than I did right at that moment. And, quite frankly, how I felt at that moment was pretty awful.
Now, I don't write that to be maudlin or to engage in some pity party. Though, with a pint of Ben & Jerry's I could be persuaded to join anyone in a good old-fashioned pity party. Just name the time and place, and I'll be there. We can indulge each other in feeling sorry for ourselves. But that's not what I'm talking about right now.
What I'm talking about is not knowing how big God is. What I'm talking about is falling into a time of feeling like the circumstances of my life, like the awful way I felt, was bigger than my God.
The good news is, I didn't stay there. That's right. There was a giant flash of light, rainbows appeared overhead, glitter fell from the sky, and in that beautiful moment, I understood that God could make me feel better.
Okay, none of that happened. Somehow God never seems to work that way. For some reason, it seems like He wants us to work a little bit, like He wants us to try to have an actual relationship with Him in order to know Him better. And, when we know Him better, we start to understand just how big our God is. That's what happened for me.
I was reading a book, and it quoted Isaiah 43:10-12,
10 "You are my witnesses," declares the LORD,
"and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor will there be one after me.
11 I, even I, am the LORD,
and apart from me there is no savior.
12 I have revealed and saved and proclaimed—
I, and not some foreign god among you.
You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "that I am God."
I read that, and it spoke directly to me. All I could think was, "That is my God." And suddenly I thought of how big God is, how able He is to help me with any problems I have.
I think about that when I remember the people who have prayed for me and with me, when I think of all the people I've met who have spoken truth to me at just the right times, when I think of how perfectly timed everything is, when I think of how much God has provided for me.
It's not difficult to understand when I let myself be open to it, when I let myself accept the truth that my God is a God who will provide for all of my needs. That my God is a God who can provide for all of my needs.
My God is just that big.
I hadn't considered how important that whole "God's love and grace" part is, but, it's one of the most important parts of their work. I started thinking about this just a while ago, as I remembered something one of the women said at the meeting.
She was talking about the need for funding. The cost for running such an operation is pretty high, and they hope to add ultrasound to their services, adding even more to the expenses. Well, the woman said that we all need to work diligently to raise funds but that we also have to rely on God. And then she said something about how big God is, and I just wondered if we ever really understand how big that really is?
I mean, how can we wrap our heads around that? How can we begin to comprehend something so outside of our understanding?
I guess what got me thinking about this, really, is that it seems that we have so many times when God seems so small. You know, we all have those times when we hurt so much, feel so terrible, struggle with physical and emotional and mental pains. And in those times, in those very dark times, it can feel like God is not big enough to shine a light into our darkness.
But, it made me wonder if those are the same times when we, feeling defeated by our surroundings or by the sad ruminations of our own brains, fail to see how big God really is. Do we assume that our God is not a big God? Do we, in our inability to see the possibility of God's light shining into our darkness, make God smaller than He really is? Do we forget that our God is the God who separated the light from the darkness, that God is light and in Him is no darkness at all?
I think we do forget that. At least, I do. I was really feeling that way not too long ago, and it was pretty difficult, as it seemed like that feeling would not go away, as I felt like my God was not a God who could make me feel any better than I did right at that moment. And, quite frankly, how I felt at that moment was pretty awful.
Now, I don't write that to be maudlin or to engage in some pity party. Though, with a pint of Ben & Jerry's I could be persuaded to join anyone in a good old-fashioned pity party. Just name the time and place, and I'll be there. We can indulge each other in feeling sorry for ourselves. But that's not what I'm talking about right now.
What I'm talking about is not knowing how big God is. What I'm talking about is falling into a time of feeling like the circumstances of my life, like the awful way I felt, was bigger than my God.
The good news is, I didn't stay there. That's right. There was a giant flash of light, rainbows appeared overhead, glitter fell from the sky, and in that beautiful moment, I understood that God could make me feel better.
Okay, none of that happened. Somehow God never seems to work that way. For some reason, it seems like He wants us to work a little bit, like He wants us to try to have an actual relationship with Him in order to know Him better. And, when we know Him better, we start to understand just how big our God is. That's what happened for me.
I was reading a book, and it quoted Isaiah 43:10-12,
10 "You are my witnesses," declares the LORD,
"and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor will there be one after me.
11 I, even I, am the LORD,
and apart from me there is no savior.
12 I have revealed and saved and proclaimed—
I, and not some foreign god among you.
You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "that I am God."
I read that, and it spoke directly to me. All I could think was, "That is my God." And suddenly I thought of how big God is, how able He is to help me with any problems I have.
I think about that when I remember the people who have prayed for me and with me, when I think of all the people I've met who have spoken truth to me at just the right times, when I think of how perfectly timed everything is, when I think of how much God has provided for me.
It's not difficult to understand when I let myself be open to it, when I let myself accept the truth that my God is a God who will provide for all of my needs. That my God is a God who can provide for all of my needs.
My God is just that big.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Beauty
I love it when a good song gets stuck in my head, when a few good lyrics just keep coming to mind. That rarely happens, right? It's usually the song you hate that won't ever leave your mind. But there are times, wonderful times, when you keep thinking of a song you actually like.
Lately, I've had a few lines of a Sara Groves song stuck in my head. The lines are:
"And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside"
Part of the reason they're stuck in my head is that they're really nicely sung, and I love to sing. But part of the reason they're stuck in my head is that they're how I feel. You know, they remind me of part of 1 John:
"1That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. 2The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. 3We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. 4We write this to make our joy complete."
I added the italics because I love that verse. "We write this to make our joy complete."
I guess I love it because that's why I write. And maybe that's why I love the lines of that song, because I want to add to the beauty, because I want to understand and tell about the beauty that I've seen. The beauty in which there is light, and no darkness.
Sometimes getting lyrics stuck in your head isn't such a bad thing. Sometimes those lyrics explain a greater truth.
Lately, I've had a few lines of a Sara Groves song stuck in my head. The lines are:
"And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That's burning up inside"
Part of the reason they're stuck in my head is that they're really nicely sung, and I love to sing. But part of the reason they're stuck in my head is that they're how I feel. You know, they remind me of part of 1 John:
"1That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. 2The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. 3We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. 4We write this to make our joy complete."
I added the italics because I love that verse. "We write this to make our joy complete."
I guess I love it because that's why I write. And maybe that's why I love the lines of that song, because I want to add to the beauty, because I want to understand and tell about the beauty that I've seen. The beauty in which there is light, and no darkness.
Sometimes getting lyrics stuck in your head isn't such a bad thing. Sometimes those lyrics explain a greater truth.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
A Picture
I realize I don't normally post pictures here, but I thought I'd just post one from my trip to El Salvador. It's a picture of me with four children from the orphanage.
Javier, Laura, Jordan, and Alberto. They're all really sweet kids, and I had a lot of fun with them. We took pictures, played soccer, ate hamburgers. It was a great time.
I hope you enjoy the picture!
:)
Sara
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Love
I have an old journal of mine. It's from first grade. I was six, and I had to keep a journal for class. I wrote all sorts of odd little things, some of which make no sense to me now, but I'm sure they meant something at the time.
My journal entry for February 7, 1985 was "Love is no fake." The letter "o" in the word "Love" is a heart, of course. I'm not sure what made me write that. I have to wonder what we were studying in class. Maybe we read from Corinthians that day?
Whatever the case, I think about how true that sentence is. On February 7, 2008 I went to El Salvador, meeting up with my parents in Houston. We landed in San Salvador and headed to the orphanage by taxi, and when we got there we were greeted by children who immediately hugged us. They immediately hugged me, even though they didn't know me at all. And I see how true it is that love is no fake.
While I was in El Salvador, I met people who told me about how they came to know God. What stood out to me is that they all spoke of God, of Jesus, touching their hearts. And I knew what they meant. I knew that feeling of finally knowing in my heart, where it truly matters, that all of this stuff is true, that it has the power to change a life. That God is no fake.
I sometimes wish I could make more sense when I talk about God, when I talk about what He has done in my life. But how do you explain what happens in your heart? How do you explain a change that makes no logical sense?
I guess the only thing to say is that, at some point, God touched my heart. And, at that point, it all made sense. Even though it made as little sense as the love those children showed to me, a stranger. But, that is love. It makes little sense, and yet, it is real.
My journal entry for February 7, 1985 was "Love is no fake." The letter "o" in the word "Love" is a heart, of course. I'm not sure what made me write that. I have to wonder what we were studying in class. Maybe we read from Corinthians that day?
Whatever the case, I think about how true that sentence is. On February 7, 2008 I went to El Salvador, meeting up with my parents in Houston. We landed in San Salvador and headed to the orphanage by taxi, and when we got there we were greeted by children who immediately hugged us. They immediately hugged me, even though they didn't know me at all. And I see how true it is that love is no fake.
While I was in El Salvador, I met people who told me about how they came to know God. What stood out to me is that they all spoke of God, of Jesus, touching their hearts. And I knew what they meant. I knew that feeling of finally knowing in my heart, where it truly matters, that all of this stuff is true, that it has the power to change a life. That God is no fake.
I sometimes wish I could make more sense when I talk about God, when I talk about what He has done in my life. But how do you explain what happens in your heart? How do you explain a change that makes no logical sense?
I guess the only thing to say is that, at some point, God touched my heart. And, at that point, it all made sense. Even though it made as little sense as the love those children showed to me, a stranger. But, that is love. It makes little sense, and yet, it is real.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
It's been a few days...
Well, it's been a bit since I last posted, and I didn't want anyone to worry that I'd been trapped under snow or lost my way in the terribly thick, gray fog that settled over the cornfields yesterday. In truth, I very nearly got lost in the fog. But so did everyone else.
I also wanted to write today because I won't be writing for a few days. On Thursday, I'm heading to El Salvador to visit the orphanage that my parents work with. Don't worry though. I'm not moving to El Salvador, just visiting for a few days. I'm really looking forward to it because I've never been there before, and I'm also looking forward to it because it's really hot there.
Also, unrelated to weather but related to things that are happening in my life, I started volunteering at the pregnancy center. Obviously, I won't be saying a whole lot about my work there, but I can tell you that the women who work there are really wonderful. They are funny and warm and just really sweet. Also, they had cake. And, well, if you know me at all, you know how I feel about cake. I absolutely love it. One of the other volunteers is taking a cake decorating class, so I'm hoping there might be more cake to come...not that that's why I'm volunteering!
Well, that's the important news for now! In other news, I've been reading through Psalms lately. I don't have any real method to it; I usually just pick one or two or more and then read. Starting in March, I'm going to take part in a Bible Study that focuses on Psalms. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself by doing so much reading before the study starts, but the Psalms are so comforting and encouraging.
Here's something I found that you might love:
Psalm 91: 14-16
14 "Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."
See how wonderful it is? How encouraging, comforting, loving? Well, that's why I'm reading them. They're good on these gray and foggy days. And, I think they'd be good even for those of you who are blessed with blue skies and warm weather.
Now, I will go pray extra hard that I don't fall into the sin of coveting your warm and beautiful weather. ;)
I also wanted to write today because I won't be writing for a few days. On Thursday, I'm heading to El Salvador to visit the orphanage that my parents work with. Don't worry though. I'm not moving to El Salvador, just visiting for a few days. I'm really looking forward to it because I've never been there before, and I'm also looking forward to it because it's really hot there.
Also, unrelated to weather but related to things that are happening in my life, I started volunteering at the pregnancy center. Obviously, I won't be saying a whole lot about my work there, but I can tell you that the women who work there are really wonderful. They are funny and warm and just really sweet. Also, they had cake. And, well, if you know me at all, you know how I feel about cake. I absolutely love it. One of the other volunteers is taking a cake decorating class, so I'm hoping there might be more cake to come...not that that's why I'm volunteering!
Well, that's the important news for now! In other news, I've been reading through Psalms lately. I don't have any real method to it; I usually just pick one or two or more and then read. Starting in March, I'm going to take part in a Bible Study that focuses on Psalms. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself by doing so much reading before the study starts, but the Psalms are so comforting and encouraging.
Here's something I found that you might love:
Psalm 91: 14-16
14 "Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."
See how wonderful it is? How encouraging, comforting, loving? Well, that's why I'm reading them. They're good on these gray and foggy days. And, I think they'd be good even for those of you who are blessed with blue skies and warm weather.
Now, I will go pray extra hard that I don't fall into the sin of coveting your warm and beautiful weather. ;)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Psalm 23
There are times when I wish I had a better memory. Specifically, I wish I could remember Bible verses better. It seems like, with all the time I spent in church, in Sunday School, in Christian school, at Christian summer camp, and as part of a youth group, I'd remember Bible verses better than I do. But I don't.
I guess this became apparent to me one day as I was trying to remember Psalm 23. For the life of me, I could hardly remember the whole chapter. This is unfortunate, because it's a beautiful chapter. Here it is:
Psalm 23
1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
You know, I was able to remember part of that Psalm, but I kept coming back to one small part of it. "He restoreth my soul." I love that part. "He restoreth my soul." I think of it, and I just feel the possibility of a renewal of my mind and heart, of a real rebirth in the Spirit, of another chance when all hope seems gone.
"He restoreth my soul." Maybe that's all I needed to remember that day. Maybe my bad memory wasn't such a bad thing.
I guess this became apparent to me one day as I was trying to remember Psalm 23. For the life of me, I could hardly remember the whole chapter. This is unfortunate, because it's a beautiful chapter. Here it is:
Psalm 23
1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
You know, I was able to remember part of that Psalm, but I kept coming back to one small part of it. "He restoreth my soul." I love that part. "He restoreth my soul." I think of it, and I just feel the possibility of a renewal of my mind and heart, of a real rebirth in the Spirit, of another chance when all hope seems gone.
"He restoreth my soul." Maybe that's all I needed to remember that day. Maybe my bad memory wasn't such a bad thing.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
A Sunday Psalm
I've already said that I love to read Psalms at night. I sometimes read it in the morning too. There's something really nice about having my breakfast and reading my Bible. It's a good start to the day and a real help in troubling or stressful times.
One Psalm that I go back to is Psalm 121. When I read it, I just feel like everything will be fine, like there's nothing to worry about, like anything I'm worried about is God's concern too. And, if God is looking out for me, I really don't have much to worry about. That's maybe a simple way to look at things, but sometimes simple is better. Sometimes it is that simple faith that moves us through the difficult days, the hard days. And sometimes it's that simple faith which assures us that those days won't last.
So, here is Psalm 121. I hope you love it too, that it strengthens your faith, that it gives you something to hold onto, some assurance that you might now need.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
One Psalm that I go back to is Psalm 121. When I read it, I just feel like everything will be fine, like there's nothing to worry about, like anything I'm worried about is God's concern too. And, if God is looking out for me, I really don't have much to worry about. That's maybe a simple way to look at things, but sometimes simple is better. Sometimes it is that simple faith that moves us through the difficult days, the hard days. And sometimes it's that simple faith which assures us that those days won't last.
So, here is Psalm 121. I hope you love it too, that it strengthens your faith, that it gives you something to hold onto, some assurance that you might now need.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;
4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.
7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
The 100th Post
Well, here I am. My 100th post. This feels like some sort of milestone. I mean, not a really big one like getting my first car or graduating college or finding my favorite seven-pound dog at the animal shelter. But, a milestone.
I once read that for the 100th post you're supposed to write 100 things about yourself. That seems a bit too time consuming for me and much too boring for all of you, Greta especially. She's not much of a reader. She's more of a napper.
So, instead of 100 things about myself, I'll go ten. Ten things that mean a lot to me right now or just made me smile as of late. Ten things, random and off the top of my head, that I think are pretty neat. Here they are!
1. The other day, as I was going up the stairs from the Undergraduate Library to the Main Library, I looked out the window and noticed a place where snow had fallen through a grate and just collected there. It reminded me of the verse in Job where God is speaking to Job and says,
"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail"
It made me smile to think of the storehouses of snow and to see this little collection of snow.
2. Starting next week, I'll be a volunteer at a local pregnancy center. I'm really excited about this. I'm actually going to be a counselor of sorts, so pray for me. No, really. Do pray for me. I'm guessing that this position will be really rewarding, but I know it's going to be tough.
3. Last night before bed I was reading part of Psalm 119. I've never actually read it before, even though I was assigned to read it in elementary school. I guess now's as good a time to confess as ever. But, I'm glad I have started reading it because it's an amazing Psalm. So far, my favorite part of the Psalm is Lamedh:
"89 Your word, O LORD, is eternal;
it stands firm in the heavens.
90 Your faithfulness continues through all generations;
you established the earth, and it endures.
91 Your laws endure to this day,
for all things serve you.
92 If your law had not been my delight,
I would have perished in my affliction.
93 I will never forget your precepts,
for by them you have preserved my life.
94 Save me, for I am yours;
I have sought out your precepts.
95 The wicked are waiting to destroy me,
but I will ponder your statutes.
96 To all perfection I see a limit;
but your commands are boundless."
It's just so beautiful and true and good. I really love it. I hope you love it too!
4. The Screwtape Letters. That's pretty much all I need to say. Oh, I'll write more about the book later. I'm not quite finished with it. But, it is an amazing, amazing book. I highly recommend it. Highly.
5. I'm pretty much addicted to Confessions of a Pioneer Woman and The Pioneer Woman Cooks. Seriously. She's funny and great. And her recipes are simple and tasty. If you were around our house at Christmas, you might have had some of her Best Chocolate Sheet Cake Ever. It seriously is the best ever!
6. I joined a Bible Study at my church. It's a small group for ladies, and we're talking about freedom in Christ. It's a nice group of ladies, and the topic is fantastic.
7. I love this quote from St. Augustine:
"You are great, O Lord, and greatly to be praised: great is your power and your wisdom is without measure. And man, so small a part of your creation, wants to praise you: this man, though clothed with mortality and bearing the evidence of sin and the proof that you withstand the proud. Despite everything, man, though but a small a part of your creation, wants to praise you. You yourself encourage him to delight in your praise, for you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."
I added the italics. That's my favorite part. It makes me smile.
8. I really like Sara Groves and Phil Wickham. In all honesty, I never, ever thought I'd really like Christian music, but those two (as well as many others) are actually good. I mean, it's actually good music, and I like it, and it makes me feel calm and happy.
9. I love this verse. It's Galatians 1:10:
"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."
It's something I like to think about. Who am I living for? Who am I trying to please or impress? Whose favor am I trying to win? Whose will am I following? Whose laws do I value? Really, we've only got one shot here on earth, so we might as well live it for the One who gave us life, hope, and salvation.
On a lighter note, I think of this when I'm in my car singing along to Sara Groves. I figure it's okay if the people in the car next to me look over and smile. I might as well keep singing.
10. I love anyone who read this whole fairly self-indulgent blog! Oh well, anyone who even accidentally stumbled onto this blog and then quickly left it. I love you just as much as the people who read the whole thing! Really, I do.
Love,
Sara
I once read that for the 100th post you're supposed to write 100 things about yourself. That seems a bit too time consuming for me and much too boring for all of you, Greta especially. She's not much of a reader. She's more of a napper.
So, instead of 100 things about myself, I'll go ten. Ten things that mean a lot to me right now or just made me smile as of late. Ten things, random and off the top of my head, that I think are pretty neat. Here they are!
1. The other day, as I was going up the stairs from the Undergraduate Library to the Main Library, I looked out the window and noticed a place where snow had fallen through a grate and just collected there. It reminded me of the verse in Job where God is speaking to Job and says,
"Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail"
It made me smile to think of the storehouses of snow and to see this little collection of snow.
2. Starting next week, I'll be a volunteer at a local pregnancy center. I'm really excited about this. I'm actually going to be a counselor of sorts, so pray for me. No, really. Do pray for me. I'm guessing that this position will be really rewarding, but I know it's going to be tough.
3. Last night before bed I was reading part of Psalm 119. I've never actually read it before, even though I was assigned to read it in elementary school. I guess now's as good a time to confess as ever. But, I'm glad I have started reading it because it's an amazing Psalm. So far, my favorite part of the Psalm is Lamedh:
"89 Your word, O LORD, is eternal;
it stands firm in the heavens.
90 Your faithfulness continues through all generations;
you established the earth, and it endures.
91 Your laws endure to this day,
for all things serve you.
92 If your law had not been my delight,
I would have perished in my affliction.
93 I will never forget your precepts,
for by them you have preserved my life.
94 Save me, for I am yours;
I have sought out your precepts.
95 The wicked are waiting to destroy me,
but I will ponder your statutes.
96 To all perfection I see a limit;
but your commands are boundless."
It's just so beautiful and true and good. I really love it. I hope you love it too!
4. The Screwtape Letters. That's pretty much all I need to say. Oh, I'll write more about the book later. I'm not quite finished with it. But, it is an amazing, amazing book. I highly recommend it. Highly.
5. I'm pretty much addicted to Confessions of a Pioneer Woman and The Pioneer Woman Cooks. Seriously. She's funny and great. And her recipes are simple and tasty. If you were around our house at Christmas, you might have had some of her Best Chocolate Sheet Cake Ever. It seriously is the best ever!
6. I joined a Bible Study at my church. It's a small group for ladies, and we're talking about freedom in Christ. It's a nice group of ladies, and the topic is fantastic.
7. I love this quote from St. Augustine:
"You are great, O Lord, and greatly to be praised: great is your power and your wisdom is without measure. And man, so small a part of your creation, wants to praise you: this man, though clothed with mortality and bearing the evidence of sin and the proof that you withstand the proud. Despite everything, man, though but a small a part of your creation, wants to praise you. You yourself encourage him to delight in your praise, for you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."
I added the italics. That's my favorite part. It makes me smile.
8. I really like Sara Groves and Phil Wickham. In all honesty, I never, ever thought I'd really like Christian music, but those two (as well as many others) are actually good. I mean, it's actually good music, and I like it, and it makes me feel calm and happy.
9. I love this verse. It's Galatians 1:10:
"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."
It's something I like to think about. Who am I living for? Who am I trying to please or impress? Whose favor am I trying to win? Whose will am I following? Whose laws do I value? Really, we've only got one shot here on earth, so we might as well live it for the One who gave us life, hope, and salvation.
On a lighter note, I think of this when I'm in my car singing along to Sara Groves. I figure it's okay if the people in the car next to me look over and smile. I might as well keep singing.
10. I love anyone who read this whole fairly self-indulgent blog! Oh well, anyone who even accidentally stumbled onto this blog and then quickly left it. I love you just as much as the people who read the whole thing! Really, I do.
Love,
Sara
Friday, January 25, 2008
Present Tense
Sometimes I ride the bus to school. It's kind of a hassle to plan around, but it beats finding and paying for a parking space on campus. And, even though it's a hassle, it's sometimes really nice to ride the bus.
When I'm on the bus, I have to actually be surrounded by all the people I'd normally drive right past, too hurried to notice anything about them. I see that some people ride the bus so much that they've gotten to know the bus drivers well, and those people tell the bus drivers about their Christmas breaks and their families. And, when I ride the bus, I get to take a break from concentrating on driving and actually notice what's going on around me.
I get to just be right there, not so worried about how I'm going to get to where I'm going because someone else is taking care of it. It's a moment in which I can focus on the present, rather than on what's up ahead.
Lately, I've been reading The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. It's a collection of letters from one demon, Screwtape, to another, Wormwood. Screwtape gives instructions on how to steer a Christian away from following his faith. I always think of this book as "that book that people start but never finish because it makes them nervous." I can understand the nervousness, but the book really gives an amazing way of looking at Christianity.
One excerpt that stood out to me was the following. Keep in mind that "the Enemy" Screwtape writes of is God.
"The humans live in time but our Enemy destines them to eternity. He therefore, I believe, wants them to attend chiefly to two things, to eternity itself, and to that point of time which they call the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity. Of the present moment, and of it only, humans have an experience analogous to the experience which our Enemy has of reality as a whole; in it alone freedom and actuality are offered them. He would therefore have them continually concerned with eternity (which means being concerned with Him) or with the Present--either meditating on their eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiveing the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure" (75-76).
It makes me wonder about our need to always look so far ahead, to spend time imagining a life which is not yet ours, a future which may never actually happen to us. I think that so many of our anxieties and disappointments are tied to that habit of constantly looking forward to an unpredictable future while forgetting to spend our time appreciating the Present that we are currently living in.
Maybe that's why we're reminded in Matthew 6:34,
"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
I agree that today has enough troubles. But, today also has enough beauty, and it has enough happiness, and it has enough love. Perhaps we will see all of those wonderful things, even amid the trouble, when we take the time to enjoy today without looking forward, with apprenhesion or excitement, to tomorrow.
When I'm on the bus, I have to actually be surrounded by all the people I'd normally drive right past, too hurried to notice anything about them. I see that some people ride the bus so much that they've gotten to know the bus drivers well, and those people tell the bus drivers about their Christmas breaks and their families. And, when I ride the bus, I get to take a break from concentrating on driving and actually notice what's going on around me.
I get to just be right there, not so worried about how I'm going to get to where I'm going because someone else is taking care of it. It's a moment in which I can focus on the present, rather than on what's up ahead.
Lately, I've been reading The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. It's a collection of letters from one demon, Screwtape, to another, Wormwood. Screwtape gives instructions on how to steer a Christian away from following his faith. I always think of this book as "that book that people start but never finish because it makes them nervous." I can understand the nervousness, but the book really gives an amazing way of looking at Christianity.
One excerpt that stood out to me was the following. Keep in mind that "the Enemy" Screwtape writes of is God.
"The humans live in time but our Enemy destines them to eternity. He therefore, I believe, wants them to attend chiefly to two things, to eternity itself, and to that point of time which they call the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity. Of the present moment, and of it only, humans have an experience analogous to the experience which our Enemy has of reality as a whole; in it alone freedom and actuality are offered them. He would therefore have them continually concerned with eternity (which means being concerned with Him) or with the Present--either meditating on their eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiveing the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure" (75-76).
It makes me wonder about our need to always look so far ahead, to spend time imagining a life which is not yet ours, a future which may never actually happen to us. I think that so many of our anxieties and disappointments are tied to that habit of constantly looking forward to an unpredictable future while forgetting to spend our time appreciating the Present that we are currently living in.
Maybe that's why we're reminded in Matthew 6:34,
"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."
I agree that today has enough troubles. But, today also has enough beauty, and it has enough happiness, and it has enough love. Perhaps we will see all of those wonderful things, even amid the trouble, when we take the time to enjoy today without looking forward, with apprenhesion or excitement, to tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
High Fidelity
There was a time when I went on a carb-free diet. I ate a lot of cheese and meat and a smattering of vegetables. But absolutely no bread or sugar came anywhere near my mouth. On the upside, I lost a ton of weight in almost no time. But it was miserable. It was miserable because I absolutely love bread. In fact, there are few things that I like more than a nice chunk of tasty bread with maybe a little cheese, preferably something blue or smoky, to go with it.
My favorite bread is challah. It's dense but still soft in texture, a little sweet but nothing overpowering. And, because it's braided, a loaf of challah just looks beautiful.
Over the break, I learned to make challah. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I had a good recipe to follow, and it even gave me pictures to illustrate the whole process of braiding. But, even though it wasn't too difficult and even though the instructions were very clear, there was still some mystery to the whole process of making bread. I had to mix together all of these simple ingredients--eggs, water, oil, yeast, honey, flour--and expect that, simple as these things are, they would be transformed into a beautiful loaf of challah.
It seemed a little far-fetched to believe it could happen, and my patience and faith in the recipe were, of course, put to the test while I waited for the bread to rise. But it did rise, puffed up by yeast, only to be punched down, reworked, cut into four pieces, braided, coated with an egg wash, and placed in the oven. And, all of those simple ingredients really did transform into a loaf of challah.
The whole process is a bit of a mystery to me. I mean, there's a good explanation of the process of making bread, something that makes sense of how the yeast reacts to the heat and the moisture. But, making bread requires a bit of faith and a bit of patience. It requires careful consideration and attention to the weather, the humidity, the heat of the room. None of these things can be left to chance or the ingredients won't become what they're intended to be. If the dough is too sticky or too dry, it's difficult to braid, and then the beauty of the challah is lost, because it's in those confusing braided knots that the bread has its densest texture and its real aesthetic.
Even though I can appreciate the mystery of bread making, I'm not generally one who loves mystery. I like to understand things, to know the answer to things, right now. Sometimes this is a negative trait. I sometimes try, almost compulsively, to make sense of things, to understand things even when there is no ready explanation. This is a very difficult trait to deal with when one is thinking about God, and it was a trait that became apparent as I sensed that God was trying to get my attention.
When I say that I wasn't happy about returning to Christianity, I'm not lying. I was confused about what it meant to be a Christian, and I wasn't really sure I wanted to be one. I mean, I wasn't sure that I wanted to be one of those Christians for whom Christianity actually meant something, one of those Christians who really believed it all. There was a conversation that played in my head. Sometimes it was a conversation with God; sometimes it was a conversation with myself. But, it went something like this:
"Fine, I'll be a Christian. I'll stop doing whatever God says I shouldn't do. I'll start going to church. I'll pray. I'll believe in God, in Jesus, in the Holy Spirit. I'll say and actually believe the Apostles' Creed. I'll do all of those things, but I'm not going to believe that."
Whatever that was would change, depending on whatever it was that didn't make sense to me or whatever it was that I felt particularly strong about at the moment. That was not just one but many different things. That came up more than once. That came up a lot.
That, whatever it was, had formed a strong barrier around my heart, and it was working very hard to only let in those things which made sense to me, sense as I had understood it for so long. But, there must have been some cracks in this barrier. Because, as I began to pray and read my Bible and talk to other people (like those Christians who actually believed this stuff), that came to make less sense to me than God's Word.
And, somewhere along the way, I learned that I was believing all this stuff, not because I felt obligated to out of fear, but because I felt compelled to out of love. As Donald Miller writes in Searching for God Knows What:
"Jesus was always, and I mean always, talking about love, about people, about relationships, and He never broke anything into steps or formulas. What if, because we were constantly trying to dissect His message, we were missing a blatant invitation? I began to wonder if becoming a Christian did not work more like falling in love than agreeing with a list if true principles...What if the gospel of Jesus was an invitation to know God?" (46).
I love how he writes this because, though I really believe in those true principles, they don't make sense to me out of the context of love. And, when I found a love for God and a love for Jesus, I finally found a love for His true principles. The conversation in my head continued, but my protests were answered with, well, truth. I came to see God's love for me, for all of us, in His rules. And, when I started to see it as love, He started to show me answers. It's as if I, puffed up with all my understanding and intellect, would refuse to believe, only to be punched down and reworked. Allowed to become that which I was intended to be.
And, I think that is the mystery that we can't understand until we somehow find that love or, perhaps, allow ourselves to feel that love, to let that love come through the cracks in the barriers that guard our hearts. Because, when I felt that love, I didn't feel as if I was following a set of rules or believing a set of principles that had no purpose or made no sense. It felt more like accepting the mystery of God and His Word and asking Him to explain who He is to me, rather than me trying to tell Him who He is or trying to lean on my own understanding.
It seems that when we make it through the mystery, through the confusing times, while still holding onto a faith that God is true and faithful to His Word, that we move closer to really loving Him. We begin to understand that those confusing times contain the greatest joy of discovery, the greatest depth of truth. Sometimes it is when we hold onto faith through those most confusing times that we really learn to be faithful to a God who always will be faithful to us.
My favorite bread is challah. It's dense but still soft in texture, a little sweet but nothing overpowering. And, because it's braided, a loaf of challah just looks beautiful.
Over the break, I learned to make challah. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I had a good recipe to follow, and it even gave me pictures to illustrate the whole process of braiding. But, even though it wasn't too difficult and even though the instructions were very clear, there was still some mystery to the whole process of making bread. I had to mix together all of these simple ingredients--eggs, water, oil, yeast, honey, flour--and expect that, simple as these things are, they would be transformed into a beautiful loaf of challah.
It seemed a little far-fetched to believe it could happen, and my patience and faith in the recipe were, of course, put to the test while I waited for the bread to rise. But it did rise, puffed up by yeast, only to be punched down, reworked, cut into four pieces, braided, coated with an egg wash, and placed in the oven. And, all of those simple ingredients really did transform into a loaf of challah.
The whole process is a bit of a mystery to me. I mean, there's a good explanation of the process of making bread, something that makes sense of how the yeast reacts to the heat and the moisture. But, making bread requires a bit of faith and a bit of patience. It requires careful consideration and attention to the weather, the humidity, the heat of the room. None of these things can be left to chance or the ingredients won't become what they're intended to be. If the dough is too sticky or too dry, it's difficult to braid, and then the beauty of the challah is lost, because it's in those confusing braided knots that the bread has its densest texture and its real aesthetic.
Even though I can appreciate the mystery of bread making, I'm not generally one who loves mystery. I like to understand things, to know the answer to things, right now. Sometimes this is a negative trait. I sometimes try, almost compulsively, to make sense of things, to understand things even when there is no ready explanation. This is a very difficult trait to deal with when one is thinking about God, and it was a trait that became apparent as I sensed that God was trying to get my attention.
When I say that I wasn't happy about returning to Christianity, I'm not lying. I was confused about what it meant to be a Christian, and I wasn't really sure I wanted to be one. I mean, I wasn't sure that I wanted to be one of those Christians for whom Christianity actually meant something, one of those Christians who really believed it all. There was a conversation that played in my head. Sometimes it was a conversation with God; sometimes it was a conversation with myself. But, it went something like this:
"Fine, I'll be a Christian. I'll stop doing whatever God says I shouldn't do. I'll start going to church. I'll pray. I'll believe in God, in Jesus, in the Holy Spirit. I'll say and actually believe the Apostles' Creed. I'll do all of those things, but I'm not going to believe that."
Whatever that was would change, depending on whatever it was that didn't make sense to me or whatever it was that I felt particularly strong about at the moment. That was not just one but many different things. That came up more than once. That came up a lot.
That, whatever it was, had formed a strong barrier around my heart, and it was working very hard to only let in those things which made sense to me, sense as I had understood it for so long. But, there must have been some cracks in this barrier. Because, as I began to pray and read my Bible and talk to other people (like those Christians who actually believed this stuff), that came to make less sense to me than God's Word.
And, somewhere along the way, I learned that I was believing all this stuff, not because I felt obligated to out of fear, but because I felt compelled to out of love. As Donald Miller writes in Searching for God Knows What:
"Jesus was always, and I mean always, talking about love, about people, about relationships, and He never broke anything into steps or formulas. What if, because we were constantly trying to dissect His message, we were missing a blatant invitation? I began to wonder if becoming a Christian did not work more like falling in love than agreeing with a list if true principles...What if the gospel of Jesus was an invitation to know God?" (46).
I love how he writes this because, though I really believe in those true principles, they don't make sense to me out of the context of love. And, when I found a love for God and a love for Jesus, I finally found a love for His true principles. The conversation in my head continued, but my protests were answered with, well, truth. I came to see God's love for me, for all of us, in His rules. And, when I started to see it as love, He started to show me answers. It's as if I, puffed up with all my understanding and intellect, would refuse to believe, only to be punched down and reworked. Allowed to become that which I was intended to be.
And, I think that is the mystery that we can't understand until we somehow find that love or, perhaps, allow ourselves to feel that love, to let that love come through the cracks in the barriers that guard our hearts. Because, when I felt that love, I didn't feel as if I was following a set of rules or believing a set of principles that had no purpose or made no sense. It felt more like accepting the mystery of God and His Word and asking Him to explain who He is to me, rather than me trying to tell Him who He is or trying to lean on my own understanding.
It seems that when we make it through the mystery, through the confusing times, while still holding onto a faith that God is true and faithful to His Word, that we move closer to really loving Him. We begin to understand that those confusing times contain the greatest joy of discovery, the greatest depth of truth. Sometimes it is when we hold onto faith through those most confusing times that we really learn to be faithful to a God who always will be faithful to us.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Another Confession
There are times when I think that all my beliefs are silly, that they could be easily disproved. There are times when I think that a few well-articulated arguments could explain away much of what I believe.
The strange thing is though, that even though I know that, it doesn't make me believe any less. It doesn't make my beliefs any weaker. In fact, it doesn't really affect them at all.
I know that sounds odd. I know that sounds as if I've given up on reason and rational thought. I really haven't.
It just seems to me that there must be an absolute, that there must be something that is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). It seems that for us to have any sort of chance in life, there must be some possibility of redemption, some hope for rebirth and renewal of our hearts and minds.
And somehow, despite all argument and reason, I know that absolute, that hope for the redemption of my life, is Jesus. Donald Miller talks about becoming a Christian as being much like falling in love, and I have to agree with him. Because, like falling in love, much of it makes little sense. There is simply an awareness of being pulled toward something much larger than yourself, and despite all protestations and all inner argument, there is no way to fight falling in love.
And that is why I don't really worry so much about the arguments. I can no more write up an equation for why I believe what I believe than I could write up an equation to explain falling in love. But, it doesn't make it any less real. Maybe it makes it even more real, as it always seems that we're more affected by that which touches our hearts and souls than that which appeals to our reasonable selves.
Isn't it in our hearts and souls that we need the hope of redemption? Isn't it our hearts which allow us to fall in love, to really know God and have a relationship with Him?
So, I haven't given up on rational thought, but I have decided to have an open heart, to realize that His ways are not my ways, to choose to believe and choose to love. Maybe I'm odd, but, as Flannery O'Connor said, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd."
The strange thing is though, that even though I know that, it doesn't make me believe any less. It doesn't make my beliefs any weaker. In fact, it doesn't really affect them at all.
I know that sounds odd. I know that sounds as if I've given up on reason and rational thought. I really haven't.
It just seems to me that there must be an absolute, that there must be something that is the same yesterday and today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). It seems that for us to have any sort of chance in life, there must be some possibility of redemption, some hope for rebirth and renewal of our hearts and minds.
And somehow, despite all argument and reason, I know that absolute, that hope for the redemption of my life, is Jesus. Donald Miller talks about becoming a Christian as being much like falling in love, and I have to agree with him. Because, like falling in love, much of it makes little sense. There is simply an awareness of being pulled toward something much larger than yourself, and despite all protestations and all inner argument, there is no way to fight falling in love.
And that is why I don't really worry so much about the arguments. I can no more write up an equation for why I believe what I believe than I could write up an equation to explain falling in love. But, it doesn't make it any less real. Maybe it makes it even more real, as it always seems that we're more affected by that which touches our hearts and souls than that which appeals to our reasonable selves.
Isn't it in our hearts and souls that we need the hope of redemption? Isn't it our hearts which allow us to fall in love, to really know God and have a relationship with Him?
So, I haven't given up on rational thought, but I have decided to have an open heart, to realize that His ways are not my ways, to choose to believe and choose to love. Maybe I'm odd, but, as Flannery O'Connor said, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd."
A Goodnight Psalm
I try to read at least one chapter of Psalms each day. I'd like to say that I read them because I'm such a dedicated Bible scholar, but I'm really not. I really just read the Psalms because they're soothing. I like to read them right before I go to sleep because they remind me that God is watching over me, that I am safe and loved. When I read the Psalms, I always fall in love with their poetry, but I also feel like, in reading them, the truth is being spoken to my heart and soul. And all of that makes me feel calm and ready to sleep.
So, tonight, I thought I'd post a Psalm that I read just a little bit ago. I hope that it gives you some peace and good dreams if you're reading it tonight, or that it maybe gives you the calm you need to face the day if you're reading it tomorrow.
Here is a Psalm for you.
Psalm 46
1 God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
Selah
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
5 God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
7 The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah
8 Come and see the works of the LORD,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear,
he burns the shields with fire.
10 "Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."
11 The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah
So, tonight, I thought I'd post a Psalm that I read just a little bit ago. I hope that it gives you some peace and good dreams if you're reading it tonight, or that it maybe gives you the calm you need to face the day if you're reading it tomorrow.
Here is a Psalm for you.
Psalm 46
1 God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
Selah
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
5 God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
7 The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah
8 Come and see the works of the LORD,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear,
he burns the shields with fire.
10 "Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."
11 The LORD Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Selah
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Ache
Lately, I've been listening to Sara Groves a lot, and, as usual, I keep coming back to just a few songs from the CD, playing them over and over, thinking about the lyrics, singing along. One of the songs that keeps speaking to me is "I Saw What I Saw." Here is the song and its video:
The lyrics that keep coming back to me are:
"I saw what I saw and I can't forget it;
I heard what I heard and I can't go back;
I know what I know and I can't deny it.
Something on the road, cut me to the soul."
When I think of those lyrics, they send me back to the words that Simeon spoke to Mary when he saw Jesus. Remember that the Holy Spirit had revealed to Simeon that Simeon would not die until he saw the Messiah, and, upon seeing Jesus, Simeon knew that the Holy Spirit had been faithful. Simeon knew that he had, in fact, seen the Savior, and he thanked God for this gift. But then Simeon spoke to Mary saying,
"This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too" (Luke 2:34-25).
I think of Simeon's words because it seems to me that when we have an experience with Jesus, we know that there may be pain, that our souls will be pierced and never remain the same. That our spirits will be changed. That what logic and reason had once spoken to us will be transformed by the understanding of the Spirit, the guidance and comfort given to us by Christ.
Sometimes, when I think about religion, the word that comes to my head is "ossified." I think of the ways in which our flesh and hearts turn to bone, become hardened over time and unreceptive to the fact that our souls should ache on seeing the pain of others, the fact that our hearts should feel a bit broken.
Or I think of how we can become hardened against belief, becoming distrustful of the ache inside our hearts and souls, acknowledging to ourselves that this hole in us needs to be filled but never knowing or acknowledging that we have a God-shaped hole that cannot be filled in any other way but through allowing God to enter the parts of our hearts we give no one else access too. Because, it is in those places that we most need the love that only God can give, the kind of love that cannot be taken back, the kind of love that never leaves us or forsakes us.
It is this kind of love that lets us know that it is safe for our hearts to break for ourselves and for others because we know that we have a heavenly Father who will comfort us in our pain, who will bind up our wounds. William Barclay paraphrases the second Beatitude as,
"O the bliss of the man whose heart is broken for the world's suffering and for his own sin, for out of his sorrow he will find the joy of God."
It is a pain of the heart and soul which acknowledges a need for God. And, even before that need is acknowledged, God is there waiting, waiting to offer us joy.
I guess I should say that, if I'm really honest, none of this would have made sense to me a while ago. In fact, I would have thought that the author of these words was a little strange. And, honestly, that's being kind. I probably would have dismissed this as a bunch of overly-religious ramblings that had nothing to do with me, but, as in the song, "Something on the road, cut me to the soul."
The lyrics that keep coming back to me are:
"I saw what I saw and I can't forget it;
I heard what I heard and I can't go back;
I know what I know and I can't deny it.
Something on the road, cut me to the soul."
When I think of those lyrics, they send me back to the words that Simeon spoke to Mary when he saw Jesus. Remember that the Holy Spirit had revealed to Simeon that Simeon would not die until he saw the Messiah, and, upon seeing Jesus, Simeon knew that the Holy Spirit had been faithful. Simeon knew that he had, in fact, seen the Savior, and he thanked God for this gift. But then Simeon spoke to Mary saying,
"This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too" (Luke 2:34-25).
I think of Simeon's words because it seems to me that when we have an experience with Jesus, we know that there may be pain, that our souls will be pierced and never remain the same. That our spirits will be changed. That what logic and reason had once spoken to us will be transformed by the understanding of the Spirit, the guidance and comfort given to us by Christ.
Sometimes, when I think about religion, the word that comes to my head is "ossified." I think of the ways in which our flesh and hearts turn to bone, become hardened over time and unreceptive to the fact that our souls should ache on seeing the pain of others, the fact that our hearts should feel a bit broken.
Or I think of how we can become hardened against belief, becoming distrustful of the ache inside our hearts and souls, acknowledging to ourselves that this hole in us needs to be filled but never knowing or acknowledging that we have a God-shaped hole that cannot be filled in any other way but through allowing God to enter the parts of our hearts we give no one else access too. Because, it is in those places that we most need the love that only God can give, the kind of love that cannot be taken back, the kind of love that never leaves us or forsakes us.
It is this kind of love that lets us know that it is safe for our hearts to break for ourselves and for others because we know that we have a heavenly Father who will comfort us in our pain, who will bind up our wounds. William Barclay paraphrases the second Beatitude as,
"O the bliss of the man whose heart is broken for the world's suffering and for his own sin, for out of his sorrow he will find the joy of God."
It is a pain of the heart and soul which acknowledges a need for God. And, even before that need is acknowledged, God is there waiting, waiting to offer us joy.
I guess I should say that, if I'm really honest, none of this would have made sense to me a while ago. In fact, I would have thought that the author of these words was a little strange. And, honestly, that's being kind. I probably would have dismissed this as a bunch of overly-religious ramblings that had nothing to do with me, but, as in the song, "Something on the road, cut me to the soul."
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Why We Do What We Do
When I was young, I prayed without really thinking about it. That is to say, I prayed with a belief that my prayers would be heard and answered, with a faith that God really was up there in heaven listening to me.
But, over time, my rational side won out. I didn't pray so much. I didn't see the point to any of it really. If God heard me, it didn't matter much to me because I never heard anything back from Him. None of it really made much sense. Didn't God know what He wanted for my life anyways, and, if He knew that sort of thing already, what sense would it make for me to pray?
And the prayers became fewer and fewer. Until there really were no prayers. But, sometimes when things got really, really hard, I would pray. I'm not sure why I would pray. There was some sort of desperation, some sort of finding myself at the end of my rope, at the end of myself, that compelled me to turn the only way I hadn't before. And that way was up, toward God, toward heaven and all those things I hadn't thought of much before.
And then I would pray. I would pray because there was nothing left to do, nowhere else to go. I would pray even though all logic and common sense told me I was foolish. I would pray even though it was a mystery, even though it made no sense to me.
Surely, I must do something. Surely saying a few words to a God I cannot see isn't enough. Surely there must be some concrete action I can take that would be more sensible than turning to God.
That's what I thought then, but lately it seems to be the actions that make the least sense which sometimes do the most good.
Awhile ago I was remembering a professor I had in college. He taught Philosophy, and I took a few classes from him. One day, like most everyday, he was telling us a story from his own life. When he was a young boy, he learned that a young woman who his family knew was going to become a nun. She'd spent much time in discernment and felt called to this life, and she was taking vows to become a cloistered nun. My professor, as a young child, wondered why a young woman, a woman who could have any future she chose, would choose such an austere life. After all, hers would not be simply the life of a nun, but the life of a cloistered nun.
He asked his mother why the young woman wanted to become a nun, and his mother simply said, "She's doing it for you."
When I think of that story, I feel the depth of that young woman's sacrificial love, and it makes me think that that sort of love, the love that doesn't make any rational or logical sense, is what the Christian life is about. That is the sort of love God has for us, the sort of love that would send a Son to die for our sins. As Romans 5:7-8 says, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
That's a love that doesn't make sense, a love too big to wrap my mind around. But, He was doing it for us.
And, in knowing this love was given to us, as undeserving as we were and still are, we can only respond in faith. It is that faith which compels the young woman to join religious orders, to spend her life in quiet contemplation of her God, to give her body as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1). It is that faith which brought that young woman to daily prayer and devotion, prayers to God for people like us, people on the outside who may or may not have even believed. And yet, she prayed for us, undeserving as we might have been of those prayers.
It is that faith that causes me, when I come to the end of myself and all that I can humanly do, to turn to God. Not because saying words to the sky and air gives me a sense of peace, but because I have faith that there is a God who hears my prayers, that there really is a God who, like a heavenly Father, guides my path even when I can't see Him, even when I'm quite alone.
Like my professor, I used to wonder why people chose a spiritual life. I wondered why, when there were so many things on earth to do and see and worry about, people chose to look up to a God who may or may not have been there, to pray to Him and ask Him for help and guidance.
I didn't know then, but I understand now. All along, those people who chose the spiritual life, who chose to humble themselves and pray to God, knew God would be there for them when they reached the end of themselves, when they trusted Him and put their faith in Him. They turned to Him in prayer because they believed Him, because they loved Him enough to trust Him.
And, they did it for me.
But, over time, my rational side won out. I didn't pray so much. I didn't see the point to any of it really. If God heard me, it didn't matter much to me because I never heard anything back from Him. None of it really made much sense. Didn't God know what He wanted for my life anyways, and, if He knew that sort of thing already, what sense would it make for me to pray?
And the prayers became fewer and fewer. Until there really were no prayers. But, sometimes when things got really, really hard, I would pray. I'm not sure why I would pray. There was some sort of desperation, some sort of finding myself at the end of my rope, at the end of myself, that compelled me to turn the only way I hadn't before. And that way was up, toward God, toward heaven and all those things I hadn't thought of much before.
And then I would pray. I would pray because there was nothing left to do, nowhere else to go. I would pray even though all logic and common sense told me I was foolish. I would pray even though it was a mystery, even though it made no sense to me.
Surely, I must do something. Surely saying a few words to a God I cannot see isn't enough. Surely there must be some concrete action I can take that would be more sensible than turning to God.
That's what I thought then, but lately it seems to be the actions that make the least sense which sometimes do the most good.
Awhile ago I was remembering a professor I had in college. He taught Philosophy, and I took a few classes from him. One day, like most everyday, he was telling us a story from his own life. When he was a young boy, he learned that a young woman who his family knew was going to become a nun. She'd spent much time in discernment and felt called to this life, and she was taking vows to become a cloistered nun. My professor, as a young child, wondered why a young woman, a woman who could have any future she chose, would choose such an austere life. After all, hers would not be simply the life of a nun, but the life of a cloistered nun.
He asked his mother why the young woman wanted to become a nun, and his mother simply said, "She's doing it for you."
When I think of that story, I feel the depth of that young woman's sacrificial love, and it makes me think that that sort of love, the love that doesn't make any rational or logical sense, is what the Christian life is about. That is the sort of love God has for us, the sort of love that would send a Son to die for our sins. As Romans 5:7-8 says, "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."
That's a love that doesn't make sense, a love too big to wrap my mind around. But, He was doing it for us.
And, in knowing this love was given to us, as undeserving as we were and still are, we can only respond in faith. It is that faith which compels the young woman to join religious orders, to spend her life in quiet contemplation of her God, to give her body as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1). It is that faith which brought that young woman to daily prayer and devotion, prayers to God for people like us, people on the outside who may or may not have even believed. And yet, she prayed for us, undeserving as we might have been of those prayers.
It is that faith that causes me, when I come to the end of myself and all that I can humanly do, to turn to God. Not because saying words to the sky and air gives me a sense of peace, but because I have faith that there is a God who hears my prayers, that there really is a God who, like a heavenly Father, guides my path even when I can't see Him, even when I'm quite alone.
Like my professor, I used to wonder why people chose a spiritual life. I wondered why, when there were so many things on earth to do and see and worry about, people chose to look up to a God who may or may not have been there, to pray to Him and ask Him for help and guidance.
I didn't know then, but I understand now. All along, those people who chose the spiritual life, who chose to humble themselves and pray to God, knew God would be there for them when they reached the end of themselves, when they trusted Him and put their faith in Him. They turned to Him in prayer because they believed Him, because they loved Him enough to trust Him.
And, they did it for me.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
New Favorite Song
Over the last couple of days, I have been loving the song "When the Saints" by Sara Groves. And I don't just love it because she's also a Sara without an "h." Although that does make it even better.
Seriously, I love the song for its lyrics, its passion, its meaning. But I also love it because of the story behind it. The story of what most inspired this song and the CD can be found here. Just scroll down the page until you hit the Biography section, and, in it, you'll read the story of a young woman, Elisabeth.
When I read Elisabeth's story, I thought of how we often spend so much time in regret, so much time wishing that we hadn't done something or dreaming of what our lives would be like had we made some other choice. And, we spend a lot of time wishing that many things, things beyond our control, had not happened to us. And, so often we bear the scars of our bad choices and of the harmful actions of others.
It's hard to not do that, but I wonder what our lives would be like if we really believed Romans 8:28? What if we truly believed "that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose?" Could we, like Elisabeth, look back on even the most difficult times in our lives and see God in them, see that there may have been some purpose or reason for that time in our lives? Some way that we can let God work through us and turn those difficult times into good?
It's a difficult thing to do. We want so much to have perfect lives, to have done things the right way, to have never made the wrong choices, to have never been put into harmful and hurtful situations. And yet, without those times, what would we be like? How could we relate to others who had similar hurts? Could we be the comfort to them that we can now be if we had never known such hurt? Can we see those difficult times as experiences we cannot waste, as experiences that can make us people who can speak to the hurts of others?
Because I love it so much, I'll leave you with the lyrics to "When the Saints." If you haven't heard it yet, you really must. I promise you'll love it too. And, when you listen to it, think about Elisabeth's story; it will fill you with hope and faith.
"When the Saints"
Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I cannot let it go
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it often overwhelms me
but when I think of all who've gone before and lived the faithful life
their courage compells me
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaoh's court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul
I see the young missionary and the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear
I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the dying man's side
I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door
I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
When I read Elisabeth's story, I thought of how we often spend so much time in regret, so much time wishing that we hadn't done something or dreaming of what our lives would be like had we made some other choice. And, we spend a lot of time wishing that many things, things beyond our control, had not happened to us. And, so often we bear the scars of our bad choices and of the harmful actions of others.
It's hard to not do that, but I wonder what our lives would be like if we really believed Romans 8:28? What if we truly believed "that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to his purpose?" Could we, like Elisabeth, look back on even the most difficult times in our lives and see God in them, see that there may have been some purpose or reason for that time in our lives? Some way that we can let God work through us and turn those difficult times into good?
It's a difficult thing to do. We want so much to have perfect lives, to have done things the right way, to have never made the wrong choices, to have never been put into harmful and hurtful situations. And yet, without those times, what would we be like? How could we relate to others who had similar hurts? Could we be the comfort to them that we can now be if we had never known such hurt? Can we see those difficult times as experiences we cannot waste, as experiences that can make us people who can speak to the hurts of others?
Because I love it so much, I'll leave you with the lyrics to "When the Saints." If you haven't heard it yet, you really must. I promise you'll love it too. And, when you listen to it, think about Elisabeth's story; it will fill you with hope and faith.
"When the Saints"
Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I cannot let it go
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it often overwhelms me
but when I think of all who've gone before and lived the faithful life
their courage compells me
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought
I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharaoh's court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul
I see the young missionary and the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear
I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the dying man's side
I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door
I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
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