I am reading a series of novels that are stunning in their simply told tales of small town life. But, that's not what this post is about. That piece of information was simply to set up the fact that in one of the novels, I recently came across a quote from C.S. Lewis that aptly describes the way that I have been experiencing life and God lately. So, without further ado, Lewis once wrote:
We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.
This has been a difficult couple of weeks. My depression has taken a downturn, has affected my eating and sleeping habits, and my general ability to cope with daily life. I continue to believe in God's sovereignty in my life, though I find myself growing ever more distant from that place of close personal relationship with Him. I find myself wondering with Lewis just how painful God's will in my life is going to be.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Missing Quiet
I've been thinking lately about quiet. I've heard a lot recently from various friends and others about the value of silence, about the value of seeking that quiet space for just you and God. They have good points.
5 years ago, when I started out my post secondary career at Mt. Royal, and was desperately struggling to build a prayer life, or to determine if a prayer life was even something worth pursuing - prayer seemed like such a pointless and dead thing at that time - a friend made a suggestion for seizing moments of quiet and using them for prayer. She told me to use the time I spent in the public bathrooms at school to pray. She said that if I used that time, at least I was praying a consistent 10 plus minutes a day, and that it was a good way to start.
Mostly, for the first while, I laughed to myself every time I found myself in the bathrooms in a public place. What a ridiculous suggestion! Slowly, though, I began to pray, and those silent prayers in the privacy of a bathroom stall developed into an ongoing silent conversation with God throughout my day. Five years later, when I am walking alone to the train, or in the public bathroom, or wandering through the mall on my breaks from work, it is the most natural thing in the world to have a silent conversation with God.
Lately, though, I have been missing my quiet space. To prove that there is no space sacred enough to avoid advertising, Chinook Centre has recently installed television screens in the mirrors of their bathroom. These televisions loudly interrupt the former peace of the "throne" room, and I have spent less time praying, and more time trying to catch the commercial for the upcoming "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" movie.
It's funny how much I miss those ten minutes of quiet time with God. I know, the bathroom still seems like a weird place to do my praying, and to share my heart with God, but it was the place I was most consistency in the habit of doing those things. Depression has wreaked havoc on the regularity and consistency of the rest of my devotional practices, and, as advertising invades my last routine for time with God, I find myself longing for that time, wondering where I will build a new habit to replace it, and whether or not it really is ridiculous how much I miss quiet in a public bathroom!
5 years ago, when I started out my post secondary career at Mt. Royal, and was desperately struggling to build a prayer life, or to determine if a prayer life was even something worth pursuing - prayer seemed like such a pointless and dead thing at that time - a friend made a suggestion for seizing moments of quiet and using them for prayer. She told me to use the time I spent in the public bathrooms at school to pray. She said that if I used that time, at least I was praying a consistent 10 plus minutes a day, and that it was a good way to start.
Mostly, for the first while, I laughed to myself every time I found myself in the bathrooms in a public place. What a ridiculous suggestion! Slowly, though, I began to pray, and those silent prayers in the privacy of a bathroom stall developed into an ongoing silent conversation with God throughout my day. Five years later, when I am walking alone to the train, or in the public bathroom, or wandering through the mall on my breaks from work, it is the most natural thing in the world to have a silent conversation with God.
Lately, though, I have been missing my quiet space. To prove that there is no space sacred enough to avoid advertising, Chinook Centre has recently installed television screens in the mirrors of their bathroom. These televisions loudly interrupt the former peace of the "throne" room, and I have spent less time praying, and more time trying to catch the commercial for the upcoming "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" movie.
It's funny how much I miss those ten minutes of quiet time with God. I know, the bathroom still seems like a weird place to do my praying, and to share my heart with God, but it was the place I was most consistency in the habit of doing those things. Depression has wreaked havoc on the regularity and consistency of the rest of my devotional practices, and, as advertising invades my last routine for time with God, I find myself longing for that time, wondering where I will build a new habit to replace it, and whether or not it really is ridiculous how much I miss quiet in a public bathroom!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Renovating
I live in a pit. At the moment my belongings are all over my floor, and quite a number are all over my house in random boxes, waiting for me to find them homes in my bedroom once again.
I bought a new bed last week. It's a loft bed. I now sleep so close to the ceiling that it's reminiscent of sleeping in a camper - with slightly more clearance. It's at moments like this that I am grateful that I am short. A tall person would not enjoy my new sleeping arrangements. I, on the other hand, can prop myself up on my pillows in a semi-prone position and read in bed quite comfortably.
Underneath my new bed is my new desk, at which I am sitting to write this. My computer was the first thing I put back in place in my room. The clutter in the rest of my space I can live with, but I couldn't go without my email and internet access for even 48 hours. Pathetic, I know.
I have decided that redecorating, like starting a new job, holds a number of unseen and unanticipated costs. Yes, I have the new bed and desk that I wanted, but they have necessitated a new bookshelf (that my dad is custom building for me), a new lamp (that can be clipped on my bed so I can read at night and not have to climb down out of bed to turn off the overhead light, and several storage containers that let me store clothes that were previously hidden in the drawers of my old bed.
Nonetheless, I am enjoying my new space, clutter and all. The clutter is nearly at a tolerable level, and I have a long list of errands to be accomplished today in order to reduce it further. I like having new things. I like putting the stamp on this room that is not the me that last redecorated at sixteen. I have changed, and my new space is reflecting those changes - the things that are important to me. The teddy bear collection has been largely relegated to the garage attic for a future not in this space. To replace it is a bookcase, overflowing with books covering the topics that fascinate me now. I like having a space that is mine, that is my retreat in which to read and think, and even escape now and then. And with that thought, I must return to making this space my own. I have a list of sorting and cleaning and errands that must be accomplished to make this space less cluttered and more easily enjoyed!
I bought a new bed last week. It's a loft bed. I now sleep so close to the ceiling that it's reminiscent of sleeping in a camper - with slightly more clearance. It's at moments like this that I am grateful that I am short. A tall person would not enjoy my new sleeping arrangements. I, on the other hand, can prop myself up on my pillows in a semi-prone position and read in bed quite comfortably.
Underneath my new bed is my new desk, at which I am sitting to write this. My computer was the first thing I put back in place in my room. The clutter in the rest of my space I can live with, but I couldn't go without my email and internet access for even 48 hours. Pathetic, I know.
I have decided that redecorating, like starting a new job, holds a number of unseen and unanticipated costs. Yes, I have the new bed and desk that I wanted, but they have necessitated a new bookshelf (that my dad is custom building for me), a new lamp (that can be clipped on my bed so I can read at night and not have to climb down out of bed to turn off the overhead light, and several storage containers that let me store clothes that were previously hidden in the drawers of my old bed.
Nonetheless, I am enjoying my new space, clutter and all. The clutter is nearly at a tolerable level, and I have a long list of errands to be accomplished today in order to reduce it further. I like having new things. I like putting the stamp on this room that is not the me that last redecorated at sixteen. I have changed, and my new space is reflecting those changes - the things that are important to me. The teddy bear collection has been largely relegated to the garage attic for a future not in this space. To replace it is a bookcase, overflowing with books covering the topics that fascinate me now. I like having a space that is mine, that is my retreat in which to read and think, and even escape now and then. And with that thought, I must return to making this space my own. I have a list of sorting and cleaning and errands that must be accomplished to make this space less cluttered and more easily enjoyed!
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
What's Your Theological Worldview?
You scored as Emergent/Postmodern.
You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.
Emergent/Postmodern
79%
Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan
75%
Reformed Evangelical
57%
Neo orthodox
54%
Charismatic/Pentecostal
50%
Classical Liberal
46%
Fundamentalist
43%
Roman Catholic
39%
Modern Liberal
29%
You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. "What's your theological worldview?created with QuizFarm.com";
So, took this quiz, and scored as a postmodern. I don't suppose that's all that surprising. The people and books that have been shaping my faith in Christ in the last couple of difficult years are all somewhat aligned with the postmodern "movement." At the same time, I cringe at the label - it's something that still has a great number of negative connotations attached to it in other church circles. I think I really just have an aversion to labels as a whole. Labels are so confining. If I begin saying that I am "postmodern" then I am slotting myself into a category, that would seem to require rejection of certain aspects of my faith gleaned from my decidedly un-postmodern background.
I grew up in a conservative evangelical church. Yes, there are definitely people there who would fall into the "postmodern" category right alongside me, but there are others there who would probably consider the way I'm "doing faith" right now borderline heretical. I have the pastor's kid complex - a need for everybody to be happy with my choices all the time, but a need to also escape the confines of the environment in which I grew up and figure out how this faith thing affects my daily life.
You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.
Emergent/Postmodern
79%
Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan
75%
Reformed Evangelical
57%
Neo orthodox
54%
Charismatic/Pentecostal
50%
Classical Liberal
46%
Fundamentalist
43%
Roman Catholic
39%
Modern Liberal
29%
You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. "What's your theological worldview?created with QuizFarm.com";
So, took this quiz, and scored as a postmodern. I don't suppose that's all that surprising. The people and books that have been shaping my faith in Christ in the last couple of difficult years are all somewhat aligned with the postmodern "movement." At the same time, I cringe at the label - it's something that still has a great number of negative connotations attached to it in other church circles. I think I really just have an aversion to labels as a whole. Labels are so confining. If I begin saying that I am "postmodern" then I am slotting myself into a category, that would seem to require rejection of certain aspects of my faith gleaned from my decidedly un-postmodern background.
I grew up in a conservative evangelical church. Yes, there are definitely people there who would fall into the "postmodern" category right alongside me, but there are others there who would probably consider the way I'm "doing faith" right now borderline heretical. I have the pastor's kid complex - a need for everybody to be happy with my choices all the time, but a need to also escape the confines of the environment in which I grew up and figure out how this faith thing affects my daily life.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Growing into the Truth We Speak
I admit it. I'm a bit of a mailing list junkie. I have joined quite a number of daily/weekly/monthly email lists, and I receive a great number of wonderful things by email every day - scriptures and prayers, jokes, a Garfield comic strip, cultural commentary from a Christian perspective, and these wonderful bits of writing from Henri Nouwen.
The following quote appeared in my mailbox on June 21st, under the same title that I have used for this post:
Can we only speak when we are fully living what we are saying? If all our words had to cover all our actions, we would be doomed to permanent silence! Sometimes we are called to proclaim God's love even when we are not yet fully able to live it. Does that mean we are hypocrites? Only when our own words no longer call us to conversion. Nobody completely lives up to his or her own ideals and visions. But by proclaiming our ideals and visions with great conviction and great humility, we may gradually grow into the truth we speak. As long as we know that our lives always will speak louder than our words, we can trust that our words will remain humble.
I have wrestled often in recent months with some of the ideas that Nouwen so succintly discusses here. I have often had the opportunity to speak with friends and aquaintances, to share their lives and challenge them to new things in their relationship with Jesus. And yet, I have struggled with the opportunities as they have come about.
My life has not been a model of many good things in the last few years. Yes, I still profess Christ - I cling to him more desperately than ever before. But, at the same time, I devote less time to "getting to know him" than I ever have. I am woefully undisciplined at spending time in scripture and in prayer. I attend church and bible study as much for the social interaction as the spiritual value. And, more foten than not, I manufacture the "experience" and the "feelings" necessary to appear engaged during times of worship.
I have been greatly convicted in recent days of the lack of time that I have devoted to the faith that I claim is of central importance to my daily existence. I have often wondered if my own brokenness should disqualify me from offering challenges to those around me. And yet, I keep encountering needy people - people who I can understand because of my own neediness. People to whom I can offer a listening ear and the advice of experience. And yet, I feel hypocritical for offering "answers" when I have so few of my own.
Nouwen's words encouraged me - only when my words stop creating the sense of dis-ease within my own soul, that calls it to conversion, to deeper relationship with Christ, do they stop having value. My prayer is this - that I will never be so "together" that I fail to feel the guilt of knowing that the advice I offer is advice that I am woefully unable and unqualified to live and to dispense, without the grace of Christ.
The following quote appeared in my mailbox on June 21st, under the same title that I have used for this post:
Can we only speak when we are fully living what we are saying? If all our words had to cover all our actions, we would be doomed to permanent silence! Sometimes we are called to proclaim God's love even when we are not yet fully able to live it. Does that mean we are hypocrites? Only when our own words no longer call us to conversion. Nobody completely lives up to his or her own ideals and visions. But by proclaiming our ideals and visions with great conviction and great humility, we may gradually grow into the truth we speak. As long as we know that our lives always will speak louder than our words, we can trust that our words will remain humble.
I have wrestled often in recent months with some of the ideas that Nouwen so succintly discusses here. I have often had the opportunity to speak with friends and aquaintances, to share their lives and challenge them to new things in their relationship with Jesus. And yet, I have struggled with the opportunities as they have come about.
My life has not been a model of many good things in the last few years. Yes, I still profess Christ - I cling to him more desperately than ever before. But, at the same time, I devote less time to "getting to know him" than I ever have. I am woefully undisciplined at spending time in scripture and in prayer. I attend church and bible study as much for the social interaction as the spiritual value. And, more foten than not, I manufacture the "experience" and the "feelings" necessary to appear engaged during times of worship.
I have been greatly convicted in recent days of the lack of time that I have devoted to the faith that I claim is of central importance to my daily existence. I have often wondered if my own brokenness should disqualify me from offering challenges to those around me. And yet, I keep encountering needy people - people who I can understand because of my own neediness. People to whom I can offer a listening ear and the advice of experience. And yet, I feel hypocritical for offering "answers" when I have so few of my own.
Nouwen's words encouraged me - only when my words stop creating the sense of dis-ease within my own soul, that calls it to conversion, to deeper relationship with Christ, do they stop having value. My prayer is this - that I will never be so "together" that I fail to feel the guilt of knowing that the advice I offer is advice that I am woefully unable and unqualified to live and to dispense, without the grace of Christ.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
