Monday, October 31, 2005
Follow Up
Just a quick note. I just checked my email, and received a second, equally fascinating article from Charles Colson on Wicca. You can find it here.
Happy Reformation Day!
The title of this post shows you exactly how much of a history geek I really am. I'm not even from a church backround that acknowledges Reformation Day! But, my first association with October 31st is not "Halloween" like the rest of the north American continent, but "Reformation Day." Yep, on this day in 1517, Martin Luther nailed his "95 Theses" to the church door at Wittenburg, and kickstarted the protestant reformation, as well as several centuries of religious war and conflict between varied Christian groups.
With that random history moment out of the way, let me write the quick post that I had originally intended.
Today is going to be a good day. I have a lazy, fun agenda. No school, no work. So, here, in point form, is some of what I have planned for the day:
With that random history moment out of the way, let me write the quick post that I had originally intended.
Today is going to be a good day. I have a lazy, fun agenda. No school, no work. So, here, in point form, is some of what I have planned for the day:
- Quick trip to the library. I have a book on hold to pick up.
- Quick trip to Blockbuster. I need to return a DVD. Have I mentioned how much I like the "No More Late Fees" policy?
- Trip to Costco - I need supplies for school lunches. The deal I have with my mom is that if I want to make lunches from the groceries she normally purchases, then my lunches are free. If I want something different, then I have to pay for it. I usually want something different. I'm not a big sandwich fan.
- Trip to the grocery store. I've been in the mood to cook for people for a couple of weeks, but have been hindered by the rennovations. Well, there's still no furniture in the main floor of our house, but my parents are going out of town, and I'm having friends over for dinner. We're going to eat a really nice meal, picnic style on cushions and blankets on my living room floor. Then, we're going to pass out candy to trick-or-treaters, and I think the guys that are coming have plans to scare small children in my front yard! Anyway, I'm going to the grocery store to pick up some essential items for the dinner I'm cooking.
- Trip to Ikea. I need several items for my new bedroom - the bedroom I will hopefully be able to move back into sometime this week.
- Trip to the Christian bookstore. I need to buy another copy of Renee Altson's "Stumbling Towards Faith". People keep asking me to borrow my copy, and I can't give it up because it's still encouraging me on a daily basis. I'm also looking for a book with the unlikely title of "Velvet Elvis" that was recommended to me, and possibly for a novel to read.
- I have a couple other random errands to do as well.
- I'm going to lay in a hot bath and catch up on some history reading for school. (I have to review a book this week, and I haven't yet read anything but the introduction.)
- I'm going to really enjoy taking my time and cooking a nice dinner. I love cooking for my friends, particularly the ones that are single. Most of my friends will come to any event where there is homecooked food involved. We're all too busy to cook very regularly for ourselves, so we do a lot of eating on the run or eating out, and really appreciate it when someone takes the time to feed us something homecooked and really good.
- I'm going to hang out in a low key fashion with my friends. There may be costumes involved as we hand out candy, but no wondering about dancing, no feeling awkward. Just hanging out with people I like in my own home. Now that's my kind of halloween party!
- In case you hadn't noticed. I love doing errands. I think I could seriously do it as a business. If anyone in my house is doing an errand, I'll go with them. And, when I have a day or so devoted to doing it by myself in a leisurely fashion, I love that too!
- And, with that, I'm off to get dressed and start my laid back day!
Friday, October 28, 2005
Interesting Commentary on Wicca
Well, with halloween only days away, the thoughts of the world are turning again to all the things that it entails. Apparantly, the thoughts of the Christian world are also thinking through issues such as Wicca. I received this commentary in my email this morning. I found Colson's comments fascinating.
I was especially intrigued by the reasons the author of the book discusses for why women are leaving the Christian church for Wicca. The environmental issue, and the marginalization of themselves into minor roles. I've heard these issues before. I've thought personally about the issue of the roles of women as I've been struggling to decide what schooling option to pursue next. I'd love to study theology or church history, but the reality is that the jobs in those fields are limited to start with, and my being a woman makes them even more difficult to obtain. So, I will study counselling, I think. It will pay bills and perhaps allow me to pursue my interests in theology or reformation history sometime down the road.
I was especially intrigued by the reasons the author of the book discusses for why women are leaving the Christian church for Wicca. The environmental issue, and the marginalization of themselves into minor roles. I've heard these issues before. I've thought personally about the issue of the roles of women as I've been struggling to decide what schooling option to pursue next. I'd love to study theology or church history, but the reality is that the jobs in those fields are limited to start with, and my being a woman makes them even more difficult to obtain. So, I will study counselling, I think. It will pay bills and perhaps allow me to pursue my interests in theology or reformation history sometime down the road.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
More Thoughts on Church
I've been interacting here with some ideas about the church lately. They've generated some interesting thoughts, provoked questions and responses, and just generally been worth tossing around.
If you know me very well, you know that I am a pastor's kid, and that a church that my dad pastored went through a very messy split approximately twelve years ago. There were a lot of ugly politics involved, a lot of blame assigned that was either wrong or unnecessary, and a lot of hurt. I struggle still with issues of hurt, trust, and forgiveness that stem from that time. I was only ten, and my parents did a fairly good job of protecting us from the worst of the mess, but I was still deeply affected. And yet, the "church" as the corporate body of Christ on earth is something I believe in so strongly.
All of this as lead in to these... I may have mentioned before that I get a daily email with a bit of writing from the late Henri Nouwen. His writings are always inspiring, and the last few days he has focused on the hurts that can be caused by the church, and the way in which we should respond to those hurts. I am challenged by his words, working to apply them to my life. He writes:
The Authority of Compassion
The Church often wounds us deeply. People with religious authority often wound us by their words, attitudes, and demands. Precisely because our religion brings us in touch with the questions of life and death, our religious sensibilities can get hurt most easily. Ministers and priests seldom fully realize how a critical remark, a gesture of rejection, or an act of impatience can be remembered for life by those to whom it is directed.
There is such an enormous hunger for meaning in life, for comfort and consolation, for forgiveness and reconciliation, for restoration and healing, that anyone who has any authority in the Church should constantly be reminded that the best word to characterize religious authority is compassion. Let's keep looking at Jesus whose authority was expressed in compassion.
and
Forgiving the Church
When we have been wounded by the Church, our temptation is to reject it. But when we reject the Church it becomes very hard for us to keep in touch with the living Christ. When we say, "I love Jesus, but I hate the Church," we end up losing not only the Church but Jesus too. The challenge is to forgive the Church. This challenge is especially great because the Church seldom asks us for forgiveness, at least not officially. But the Church as an often fallible human organization needs our forgiveness, while the Church as the living Christ among us continues to offer us forgiveness.
It is important to think about the Church not as "over there" but as a community of struggling, weak people of whom we are part and in whom we meet our Lord and Redeemer.
If you know me very well, you know that I am a pastor's kid, and that a church that my dad pastored went through a very messy split approximately twelve years ago. There were a lot of ugly politics involved, a lot of blame assigned that was either wrong or unnecessary, and a lot of hurt. I struggle still with issues of hurt, trust, and forgiveness that stem from that time. I was only ten, and my parents did a fairly good job of protecting us from the worst of the mess, but I was still deeply affected. And yet, the "church" as the corporate body of Christ on earth is something I believe in so strongly.
All of this as lead in to these... I may have mentioned before that I get a daily email with a bit of writing from the late Henri Nouwen. His writings are always inspiring, and the last few days he has focused on the hurts that can be caused by the church, and the way in which we should respond to those hurts. I am challenged by his words, working to apply them to my life. He writes:
The Authority of Compassion
The Church often wounds us deeply. People with religious authority often wound us by their words, attitudes, and demands. Precisely because our religion brings us in touch with the questions of life and death, our religious sensibilities can get hurt most easily. Ministers and priests seldom fully realize how a critical remark, a gesture of rejection, or an act of impatience can be remembered for life by those to whom it is directed.
There is such an enormous hunger for meaning in life, for comfort and consolation, for forgiveness and reconciliation, for restoration and healing, that anyone who has any authority in the Church should constantly be reminded that the best word to characterize religious authority is compassion. Let's keep looking at Jesus whose authority was expressed in compassion.
and
Forgiving the Church
When we have been wounded by the Church, our temptation is to reject it. But when we reject the Church it becomes very hard for us to keep in touch with the living Christ. When we say, "I love Jesus, but I hate the Church," we end up losing not only the Church but Jesus too. The challenge is to forgive the Church. This challenge is especially great because the Church seldom asks us for forgiveness, at least not officially. But the Church as an often fallible human organization needs our forgiveness, while the Church as the living Christ among us continues to offer us forgiveness.
It is important to think about the Church not as "over there" but as a community of struggling, weak people of whom we are part and in whom we meet our Lord and Redeemer.
Nothing Really New
I'm sitting in a computer lab at school, reading blogs between classes, and killing time until my evening class. I have nothing particular to report. I'm in the throes of my second head cold in three weeks - I blame it on lack of sleep, stress, and the generally growing colder weather that we in Canada know and love.
My nose feels like it will explode. I'm trying not to distract whole lecture halls of people by blowing my nose every three seconds, but I'm paying the price for their ability to concentrate. Skipping my evening class tonight is so tempting - but, it's only once a week, and I missed it last week, so I'd better make the effort to get to at least part of it tonight. Maybe I'll leave at the break halfway through. If it's interesting, though, I'll stay.
When I get home tonight - probably around 9ish, I have to put another coat of paint on the trim in my new blue bedroom. Here's a tip - if you don't want your painting to be time consuming, don't use bold or dark colors. In what seems to be oddly paradoxical, it takes far more coats to make a dark color cover than a light color. So, my walls are light blue with only two coats, but the royal/cobalt blue trim is on its third coat (not including the undercoat of dark primer) with at least one more necessary before the former white paint stops showing through.
Once I finish painting, I've promised myself a M*A*S*H* episode or two, possibly some leisure reading, and I should definitely get started on the book I need to write a review of for class next week. I've only read fifteen pages, so I have another hundred and eighty-five or so to finish up before I can write the paper.
I promise that if I ever manage to get settled back into my bedroom, these posts will stop discussing the mundane that I can write in passing, and start discussing any one of the fascinating subjects I've been mulling while I've been displaced for the last three weeks. Lots of interesting Narnia thoughts, a few new depression thoughts, and lots of thoughts about fear and God and how these things all relate. My head is bursting, but I'm lacking the quiet space to settle down and write these things out.
Okay, I'm off to buy dinner - either Vietnamese or Subway, and hopefully to meet up with a friend and hang out for an hour or so before class! Cheers!
My nose feels like it will explode. I'm trying not to distract whole lecture halls of people by blowing my nose every three seconds, but I'm paying the price for their ability to concentrate. Skipping my evening class tonight is so tempting - but, it's only once a week, and I missed it last week, so I'd better make the effort to get to at least part of it tonight. Maybe I'll leave at the break halfway through. If it's interesting, though, I'll stay.
When I get home tonight - probably around 9ish, I have to put another coat of paint on the trim in my new blue bedroom. Here's a tip - if you don't want your painting to be time consuming, don't use bold or dark colors. In what seems to be oddly paradoxical, it takes far more coats to make a dark color cover than a light color. So, my walls are light blue with only two coats, but the royal/cobalt blue trim is on its third coat (not including the undercoat of dark primer) with at least one more necessary before the former white paint stops showing through.
Once I finish painting, I've promised myself a M*A*S*H* episode or two, possibly some leisure reading, and I should definitely get started on the book I need to write a review of for class next week. I've only read fifteen pages, so I have another hundred and eighty-five or so to finish up before I can write the paper.
I promise that if I ever manage to get settled back into my bedroom, these posts will stop discussing the mundane that I can write in passing, and start discussing any one of the fascinating subjects I've been mulling while I've been displaced for the last three weeks. Lots of interesting Narnia thoughts, a few new depression thoughts, and lots of thoughts about fear and God and how these things all relate. My head is bursting, but I'm lacking the quiet space to settle down and write these things out.
Okay, I'm off to buy dinner - either Vietnamese or Subway, and hopefully to meet up with a friend and hang out for an hour or so before class! Cheers!
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Coming Soon.... I Think!
I've been listening to a "Radio Theatre" version of all of the Chronicles of Narnia lately, and they're creating a number of rather interesting thoughts, that feel kind of profound as they're bouncing around in my head. So, the entire purpose of this post is to announce that I've been ruminating, and that there are thoughts sure to explode onto this blog sometime in the near future!
Monday, October 24, 2005
One More Picture
This adding pictures business is just too much fun! I couldn't resist. This is the three of us at the wedding. That would be the bride in the middle. I've known her since birth, and she is the first of my long time friends to get married. It was almost surreal - to know that we're hitting that "grown up" age where we do things like graduate from university, and get married and stuff like that. I don't know if I'm ready to be a "grown up." But, she was. And she looked beautiful doing it!
Good Friends
This is the friend who gave up her evening to dye my hair. That's her on the left. That would be me on the right. I can't seem to ever have my eyes open in pictures. This was taken a couple weeks ago, at the wedding of one of our mutual friends.
Random Update
Hmm... I've got some random things to list today:
- I'm still sleeping on the basement floor. My dog has been ill, and has been sticking his face into mine at ridiculously early hours to get me to let him outside. If I ignore him, he sits right behind my pillow and whines until I get up.
- Since I'm still sleeping on the floor, it should be obvious that we're still renovating.
- My dad decided we need to paint my bedroom too. This is why I'm still sleeping on the basement floor instead of my bedroom floor.
- I'm going to paint my bedroom blue. I never thought of myself as a blue person, but it matches the funky new batique bedding I bought.
- I had Vietnamese food for dinner. I love Vietnamese food.
- I went for dinner with one of my oldest friends. She very graciously came over at short notice to help me dye my hair.
- I've temporarily become a red-head. It will last for 9-12 shampoos according to the package. I'm not used to it yet, but I think I like it.
- The motivation for dying my hair was halloween. I was having a hard time coming up with a costume, so I dyed my hair.
- I came up with a costume. A nurse friend is going to loan me a set of her scrubs and her stethoscope, and voila - easy costume and I'm a nurse.
- I'm pumped to be going to a Steve Bell concert with my brother on Saturday night.
- I was using the concert as an excuse to avoid a halloween party.
- I hate halloween - I hate having to come up with a costume, and will willingly skip a party to avoid the trouble of creating a costume.
- I got found out by the host of the party I was trying to avoid having to have a costume for.
- I was informed that I'd better show up after the concert at his party.
- I was also told that I had a choice, I could either wear a costume or dance at his party.
- I hate dancing.
- I hate wearing costumes.
- I'm dressing as a nurse - the costume is the lesser of the two evils.
- I will be a redhaired nurse. Crazy.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Updating
So... I figured I should update the links on my blog here...
I've changed a couple addresses to be a bit more current, and I've added the blogs and places I frequent on a daily or nearly daily basis. If you think you should be on my list, let me know!
I've changed a couple addresses to be a bit more current, and I've added the blogs and places I frequent on a daily or nearly daily basis. If you think you should be on my list, let me know!
in that moment...
I didn't quite know what to do in that moment. She sat next to me, tears pouring down her cheeks, sitting with her knees drawn to her chin, and her arms wrapped around her knees. This is not an easy position to hold in one of those old-school unpadded wooden church pews.
I already knew things were not going well, that her life, like mine, had taken a drastic downturn in the past couple of weeks, and that survival was the only real goal - not thriving, but just making it from one moment to the next. We had spoken for only a few moments, but her trembling body, her haunted eyes and her words told me much about the state of life and emotion she was facing.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, but hesistated for a moment. A thousand things played through my mind. The first was one my mother taught me long ago - victims of abuse don't always welcome being held. And, a far more shameful thought - she struggles with bisexuality, and I am slightly afraid to hold her.
And yet, I did, I wrapped my arms around her, buried my face in her shoulder and held her. I felt I had very little to offer but my physical presence, and could only hope that it would be some comfort. I knew I needed to pray, but felt so completely inadequate. I whispered in her ear as the music and talking went on around us. "God, take this fear - stop the nightmares. Bring healing and peace..." and a host of other prayers. My heart was shattering with every word. And yet, I felt almost hypocritical praying these things. I have prayed them so many times over my own life, and had others pray them, and nothing has happened. I said all the right words, and believed that very few of them would happen. I hoped only that they served as balm to a broken heart - as a reminder that she was not alone.
My prayer is this, that God would take this tiny mustard seed of belief. That He would honor the whispered prayers that have flowed from my mind as the images from that night have followed me into the week, haunting my thoughts. That He would hear the cry of my heart for her, for me, and not the inadequate words of my mouth. Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief.
I already knew things were not going well, that her life, like mine, had taken a drastic downturn in the past couple of weeks, and that survival was the only real goal - not thriving, but just making it from one moment to the next. We had spoken for only a few moments, but her trembling body, her haunted eyes and her words told me much about the state of life and emotion she was facing.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, but hesistated for a moment. A thousand things played through my mind. The first was one my mother taught me long ago - victims of abuse don't always welcome being held. And, a far more shameful thought - she struggles with bisexuality, and I am slightly afraid to hold her.
And yet, I did, I wrapped my arms around her, buried my face in her shoulder and held her. I felt I had very little to offer but my physical presence, and could only hope that it would be some comfort. I knew I needed to pray, but felt so completely inadequate. I whispered in her ear as the music and talking went on around us. "God, take this fear - stop the nightmares. Bring healing and peace..." and a host of other prayers. My heart was shattering with every word. And yet, I felt almost hypocritical praying these things. I have prayed them so many times over my own life, and had others pray them, and nothing has happened. I said all the right words, and believed that very few of them would happen. I hoped only that they served as balm to a broken heart - as a reminder that she was not alone.
My prayer is this, that God would take this tiny mustard seed of belief. That He would honor the whispered prayers that have flowed from my mind as the images from that night have followed me into the week, haunting my thoughts. That He would hear the cry of my heart for her, for me, and not the inadequate words of my mouth. Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Good Intentions...
I had such good intentions of devoting all my time today to studying and writing for school, and to not blogging. But, the combination of waking up at least five times last night while sleeping on the floor in the basement, being roused at 6:30 am when my brother turned lights on right in my eyes because he didn't think about the fact that I was sleeping on the floor right there, and then being woken up once and for all at just before 8 by my parents returning from where they're spending nights during this mess and the arrival of the contractor for the floors who immediately put both his industrial strength vacuum and his power sander to use meant that I was up early with nothing planned until meeting at friend for lunch, shopping, and studying at 11am. Plus, I killed an inch long centipede that was crawling across the basement carpet, and now I'm squirming in my clothes, wondering what may have taken up residence in them while they lay on the floor as I slept last night!
So, I watched a couple episodes of M*A*S*H* (why am I the only person who appreciates the brilliance of this series so much?), and then remembered some quotes I came accross yesterday in class, and wanted to pass on. Therefore, without further ado, I present, Lisa's random list of thoughts and quotes for the day!
First, some lines by Immanuel Kant:
If I have a book that thinks for men, a pastor who acts as my conscience, a physician who prescribes my diet, and so on - then I have no need to exert myself. I have no need to think, if only I can pay; others will take care of that disagreeable business for me.
How true... and how easy to accept this kind of complacency that creeps into my life... This book tells me what is true... that person tells me why it is true... this person nags me to eat properly... that person is more than happy to tell me what to believe about this or that... and I let them all, losing myself in the process, and allowing my life to become one of complacency - they order and I step to it. Now, I suppose I'm exaggerating, but, as I sat in class and read this philosopher yesterday, and listened to the discussion of how his contributions to Enlightment philosophy affected the Christian faith, I couldn't help but be struck by the truth of this particular statement.
Second, some lines from Voltaire - same class, same discussion, different point! Voltaire is commenting on why religion is bad - namely, he believes it breeds fanaticism, and he cites some very strong examples to prove his case. However, the following statement caught my attention and made me laugh a bit...
What can we say to a man who tells you that he would rather obey God than men, and that therefore he is sure to go to heaven for butchering you?
Voltaire's words ring true centuries later, in an era of suicide bombers who are promised eternal blessings for taking the lives of those who believe differently than themselves.
Finally, I've been reading a book entitled "Mudhouse Sabbath" by Lauren Winner. In it, she looks at a number of practices common to both Judaism and Christianity, and suggests that, perhaps, Christians have much to learn from Jews in areas such as hospitality, mourning, prayer and fasting. It's a fascinating book, but I want to share one paragraph or so from the chapter on hospitality, because it adds to the discussion of building community that has been circling through some of my thoughts here, and through blogs I've been reading, and conversations I've been having.
Winner is discussing the fact that she rarely invites people to her apartment - citing the mess and the lack of space among other reasons. Then, in a moment of vulnerabilty, she writes:
I don't find inviting people into my life much easier than inviting them into my apartment. At it's core, I think, cultivating an intimacy in which people can know and be known requires being honest - practicing that other Christian discipline of telling the truth about where we live and how we got there. Often, I'd rather dissemble. Often, just as I'd rather welcome guests into a cozy and cute apartment worthy of "Southern Living", I'd rather show them a Lauren who is perfect and put-together and serene. Often, telling the truth feels absurd...So you see that asking people into my life is not so different from asking them into my apartment. Like my apartment, my interior life is never going to be wholly respectable, cleaned up, and gleaming. But that is where I live. In the certitude of God, I ought to be able to risk issuing the occasional invitation. (Mudhouse Sabbath, 51,53)
How stunningly true. Most days, I don't want to invite people into my life either. I've been thinking about this yesterday and today, and it added to my sleepless state last night. There have been people I have invited into my life at various times in the last weeks and years, and, when they began to speak truth, to accept that invitation to come into my life, I have pulled away. Most days I don't want to hear the truth they have to speak - it is too painful, too messy, too far from that "put-together" image of myself that I would love to project. And yet, I tossed and turned last night in the knowledge that I needed to engage some truths a dear friend spoke, and I woke this morning knowing even more deeply that I need the input of these people to survive these next days and months, to find the healing I crave, the peace that seems so elusive.
So, I watched a couple episodes of M*A*S*H* (why am I the only person who appreciates the brilliance of this series so much?), and then remembered some quotes I came accross yesterday in class, and wanted to pass on. Therefore, without further ado, I present, Lisa's random list of thoughts and quotes for the day!
First, some lines by Immanuel Kant:
If I have a book that thinks for men, a pastor who acts as my conscience, a physician who prescribes my diet, and so on - then I have no need to exert myself. I have no need to think, if only I can pay; others will take care of that disagreeable business for me.
How true... and how easy to accept this kind of complacency that creeps into my life... This book tells me what is true... that person tells me why it is true... this person nags me to eat properly... that person is more than happy to tell me what to believe about this or that... and I let them all, losing myself in the process, and allowing my life to become one of complacency - they order and I step to it. Now, I suppose I'm exaggerating, but, as I sat in class and read this philosopher yesterday, and listened to the discussion of how his contributions to Enlightment philosophy affected the Christian faith, I couldn't help but be struck by the truth of this particular statement.
Second, some lines from Voltaire - same class, same discussion, different point! Voltaire is commenting on why religion is bad - namely, he believes it breeds fanaticism, and he cites some very strong examples to prove his case. However, the following statement caught my attention and made me laugh a bit...
What can we say to a man who tells you that he would rather obey God than men, and that therefore he is sure to go to heaven for butchering you?
Voltaire's words ring true centuries later, in an era of suicide bombers who are promised eternal blessings for taking the lives of those who believe differently than themselves.
Finally, I've been reading a book entitled "Mudhouse Sabbath" by Lauren Winner. In it, she looks at a number of practices common to both Judaism and Christianity, and suggests that, perhaps, Christians have much to learn from Jews in areas such as hospitality, mourning, prayer and fasting. It's a fascinating book, but I want to share one paragraph or so from the chapter on hospitality, because it adds to the discussion of building community that has been circling through some of my thoughts here, and through blogs I've been reading, and conversations I've been having.
Winner is discussing the fact that she rarely invites people to her apartment - citing the mess and the lack of space among other reasons. Then, in a moment of vulnerabilty, she writes:
I don't find inviting people into my life much easier than inviting them into my apartment. At it's core, I think, cultivating an intimacy in which people can know and be known requires being honest - practicing that other Christian discipline of telling the truth about where we live and how we got there. Often, I'd rather dissemble. Often, just as I'd rather welcome guests into a cozy and cute apartment worthy of "Southern Living", I'd rather show them a Lauren who is perfect and put-together and serene. Often, telling the truth feels absurd...So you see that asking people into my life is not so different from asking them into my apartment. Like my apartment, my interior life is never going to be wholly respectable, cleaned up, and gleaming. But that is where I live. In the certitude of God, I ought to be able to risk issuing the occasional invitation. (Mudhouse Sabbath, 51,53)
How stunningly true. Most days, I don't want to invite people into my life either. I've been thinking about this yesterday and today, and it added to my sleepless state last night. There have been people I have invited into my life at various times in the last weeks and years, and, when they began to speak truth, to accept that invitation to come into my life, I have pulled away. Most days I don't want to hear the truth they have to speak - it is too painful, too messy, too far from that "put-together" image of myself that I would love to project. And yet, I tossed and turned last night in the knowledge that I needed to engage some truths a dear friend spoke, and I woke this morning knowing even more deeply that I need the input of these people to survive these next days and months, to find the healing I crave, the peace that seems so elusive.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Gone Missing
About half of my belongings are M.I.A. My parents decided to redo the hardwood floors in our house. That means that, starting tomorrow morning at 8 am, the only part of the main floor of our house that we can inhabit is our kitchen. For those that don't know our house, that means that I'm camping on the basement floor, surrounded by boxes for the next two weeks. NASTY. My stuff is in boxes and bags. My clothes are hanging on a rack in our garage. I rescued the most important books and clothes, but have no idea where the rest of my stuff is.
Plus, it's midterm season. One tomorrow, two Thursday, and a couple more next week. Also NASTY! I haven't written multiple choice exams in several years - history majors write papers, not exams. But, when you take mostly options in your last semester of university, you write multiple choice exams again. As soon as I finish writing this post, I'm off to study developmental psychology for tomorrow afternoon. BORING!
Anyway, all this to say that my blogging will probably be sparse for the next couple weeks! Between my missing belongings, sharing a basement that normally sleeps two among all five of us, midterms, and a wedding to attend this weekend, I don't think I'll have much time to write! But, we'll have to see!
And, with that, may you have a very happy thanksgiving (we in Canada believe in spacing our turkey dinners out a bit more than the Americans among us), and good night!
Plus, it's midterm season. One tomorrow, two Thursday, and a couple more next week. Also NASTY! I haven't written multiple choice exams in several years - history majors write papers, not exams. But, when you take mostly options in your last semester of university, you write multiple choice exams again. As soon as I finish writing this post, I'm off to study developmental psychology for tomorrow afternoon. BORING!
Anyway, all this to say that my blogging will probably be sparse for the next couple weeks! Between my missing belongings, sharing a basement that normally sleeps two among all five of us, midterms, and a wedding to attend this weekend, I don't think I'll have much time to write! But, we'll have to see!
And, with that, may you have a very happy thanksgiving (we in Canada believe in spacing our turkey dinners out a bit more than the Americans among us), and good night!
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Angry
I am tired and I am angry tonight. My very act of sitting here at my computer and writing is an act of defiance – an act of rebellion and frustration. I have been hit hard by depression again this week. I noticed recently that my patterns of writing have changed from the early months of this depression. Then, everything stirred me to write – every frustration, every triumph, every worship service and house church, every time I had a spare moment there was a pen in my hand, chronicling the moments and emotions. Now, there is little that drives me to write. My love affair with words has not faded. What has happened is that, as time has passed, there have been fewer and fewer new ways to describe this time. What were once daily and even several times daily entries are now one or two a month, often jotted on my computer for speed, rather than with a pen on paper for the cathartic release of making the words appear.
Thursday nights have become my time for musing. I have an evening class that ends at 7:45. From 5:00 until 7:45 I sit and learn about abnormal psychology. At 7:45, I pack up my books, and head outside (after bundling up appropriately!). While I stand and wait for the bus (which arrives at 8:04) I hum worship songs to myself, trying to center my mind away from the school work that has consumed my day. Once I board the bus, I use the 45-minute journey to muse, to reflect, to read scripture or whatever meditative work I’m currently working my way through. I know that once I get home my mind will be taken up with other things – it’s Thursday night after all – there is television to watch, emails to read, things to do to get ready for whatever I have planned for Friday. But, those 45 minutes on the bus – those are mine, to quiet my heart, to allow my mind to wander, to wait for God’s occasional voice.
Tonight, I alternated between reading, and reflecting on things I’d written earlier in the day, and things I’d contemplated on the bus journey to school this morning.
The most accurate sentence I’ve written all day is the very first one of this entry. I am angry. It has been building all week, perhaps even for months. This is an anger I have faced before. The circumstances of my life are making me furious at the moment. I am twenty-two years old. I am physically healthy. I come from a very good family. I was never abused or neglected. My parents and siblings loved me and I knew it. And yet, I have spent at least the last two years struggling with a depression that refuses to be satisfied. And it makes me livid! My siblings had the same experiences I did, and they turned out healthy. Why me?
Did you know that a woman who’s mother was depressed stands a 30 percent greater chance of being depressed herself? I’m part of that statistic. But my mother has recovered, and I am still floundering. Why did God intervene there and not in my life?
Maybe that’s the biggest part of all of this. I am furious with God. Do you have any idea how long it took me to admit that for the first time? Probably a year ago, a good friend listened to one of my many rants about my life, and asked me if I had told God how angry I was. I told this friend that I couldn’t possibly tell God that, that I couldn’t yell at God in that way. My friend just looked at me, and told me I needed to do it. It took me until a couple of months ago. It’s still crazy hard to say.
Some time ago I journalled about a book I had just read. Stumbling Towards Faith by Renee Altson. It was, at the moment I read it, incredibly liberating. I was reading it again on the bus tonight. I have carried it with me often in the intervening weeks, always knowing that the truth contained in Renee’s words was something I would come back to. Tonight, as I read, her words were once again cathartic – a balm to a soul that was wondering if I was the only person alive who felt this way about life and faith. I want to close with her words, so freeing in their expression of my soul’s cry tonight….
a god who wants my woundedness but not my covering – WHAT KIND OF GOD IS THAT? a shivering god, a jealous god. “give me yourself,” he says, “trust me without those protections, trust me with your pure vulnerabilities.”
and I laugh.
“and what will you do with them?” i wonder, knowing all too well what this means.
the rage wells up within me, like fire.
“and what have you done? what have you saved me from? i have spent a lifetime yearning for you, aching, longing, desiring to be whole more than any other thing. i have brought as much as i could to your feet – passed them over, surrendered my will, and all i have received is silence. this much i have given, and would give more, but for a word, an acknowledgement, a sense of comfort. and yet there is still nothing.
…i am so angry. i have been so angry for so many years, yet i walk a fine balance between anger and fear. which feels safer? which will get me through? often i fear the anger itself, the way it rises up in me, clutching and desperate and needy… (Stumbling Towards Faith, 45-46)
There is so much more to that passage, but due to time, space, and copyright issues, that’s all I’ll include. Go buy the book, and then email me and I’ll give you the page numbers for several other passages that spoke to my wounds tonight… And Renee, if you happen to find this entry – thanks. You can’t know how many times your words have encouraged me to keep journeying over these last months.
Thursday nights have become my time for musing. I have an evening class that ends at 7:45. From 5:00 until 7:45 I sit and learn about abnormal psychology. At 7:45, I pack up my books, and head outside (after bundling up appropriately!). While I stand and wait for the bus (which arrives at 8:04) I hum worship songs to myself, trying to center my mind away from the school work that has consumed my day. Once I board the bus, I use the 45-minute journey to muse, to reflect, to read scripture or whatever meditative work I’m currently working my way through. I know that once I get home my mind will be taken up with other things – it’s Thursday night after all – there is television to watch, emails to read, things to do to get ready for whatever I have planned for Friday. But, those 45 minutes on the bus – those are mine, to quiet my heart, to allow my mind to wander, to wait for God’s occasional voice.
Tonight, I alternated between reading, and reflecting on things I’d written earlier in the day, and things I’d contemplated on the bus journey to school this morning.
The most accurate sentence I’ve written all day is the very first one of this entry. I am angry. It has been building all week, perhaps even for months. This is an anger I have faced before. The circumstances of my life are making me furious at the moment. I am twenty-two years old. I am physically healthy. I come from a very good family. I was never abused or neglected. My parents and siblings loved me and I knew it. And yet, I have spent at least the last two years struggling with a depression that refuses to be satisfied. And it makes me livid! My siblings had the same experiences I did, and they turned out healthy. Why me?
Did you know that a woman who’s mother was depressed stands a 30 percent greater chance of being depressed herself? I’m part of that statistic. But my mother has recovered, and I am still floundering. Why did God intervene there and not in my life?
Maybe that’s the biggest part of all of this. I am furious with God. Do you have any idea how long it took me to admit that for the first time? Probably a year ago, a good friend listened to one of my many rants about my life, and asked me if I had told God how angry I was. I told this friend that I couldn’t possibly tell God that, that I couldn’t yell at God in that way. My friend just looked at me, and told me I needed to do it. It took me until a couple of months ago. It’s still crazy hard to say.
Some time ago I journalled about a book I had just read. Stumbling Towards Faith by Renee Altson. It was, at the moment I read it, incredibly liberating. I was reading it again on the bus tonight. I have carried it with me often in the intervening weeks, always knowing that the truth contained in Renee’s words was something I would come back to. Tonight, as I read, her words were once again cathartic – a balm to a soul that was wondering if I was the only person alive who felt this way about life and faith. I want to close with her words, so freeing in their expression of my soul’s cry tonight….
a god who wants my woundedness but not my covering – WHAT KIND OF GOD IS THAT? a shivering god, a jealous god. “give me yourself,” he says, “trust me without those protections, trust me with your pure vulnerabilities.”
and I laugh.
“and what will you do with them?” i wonder, knowing all too well what this means.
the rage wells up within me, like fire.
“and what have you done? what have you saved me from? i have spent a lifetime yearning for you, aching, longing, desiring to be whole more than any other thing. i have brought as much as i could to your feet – passed them over, surrendered my will, and all i have received is silence. this much i have given, and would give more, but for a word, an acknowledgement, a sense of comfort. and yet there is still nothing.
…i am so angry. i have been so angry for so many years, yet i walk a fine balance between anger and fear. which feels safer? which will get me through? often i fear the anger itself, the way it rises up in me, clutching and desperate and needy… (Stumbling Towards Faith, 45-46)
There is so much more to that passage, but due to time, space, and copyright issues, that’s all I’ll include. Go buy the book, and then email me and I’ll give you the page numbers for several other passages that spoke to my wounds tonight… And Renee, if you happen to find this entry – thanks. You can’t know how many times your words have encouraged me to keep journeying over these last months.
Re-evaluating - Again
I feel sometimes like the last two years have been a time of continual reevaluation. As the depression that has been so much a part of those years has ebbed and flowed, so have the questions, my personal satisfaction, my ability to understand who I am and see that as part of a larger context.
This week the depression is strong, and I have spent most of my hours bombarded by questions that don't seem to have answers and by questions I thought I had answered long ago. I find myself exhausted (sleep has once again become an illusory concept) and angry.
I have wondered again this week if it's worth it - this current method of pursuing God that I have chosen. I read a book this week (one I highly reccommend - Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner) that described a lifestyle of study and liturgy that I could easily fall in love with. Winner is currently completing her doctorate in the history of American religion from Columbia University. She also did her bachelor's degree at Columbia, and spaced the bachelor's and doctoral degrees out with a master's degree from Cambridge in England.
At some point during her college experience, Winner converted from Orthodox Judaism to Christianity, and while she was in England, was baptised into the Anglican church.
I read her book, and wished for her bankroll - I have pursued a history degree, focusing primarily on the Protestant Reformation in Europe for the last four years. At Christmas, I will graduate, not only broke, but $11000 in debt. I would love to pursue a master's in this, but know that I do not want to spend my life as a university lecturer. Studying further is simply not an option. But, the cerebral, academic life, ensconced in books and stimulating discussion is greatly appealing to me.
The liturgy of churches like the Anglican church is appealing as well. I find so much beauty and meaning in the rituals that have lasted for hundreds of years. Something comforting in knowing that the order of service has not been greatly altered since the Elizabethan era. Something sustaining in all that history - the good and bad, but the unending nature of it.
I have spent the last two years pursuing a more "charismatic" understanding of relationship with God - one as far from the deliberately liturgical as possible most weeks, and I find it exhausting. I don't quite fit in this circle - I am far too cerebral, far too interested in thinking deeply. I tire easily of the rhetoric that seems to say that this is the only "true" way of expressing the church of the New Testament. I feel caught between my conservative family members who don't quite agree with this pursuit of mine, and the friends who keep promising that God has something "more" for me if I just keep going.
I have met God there, and I know with certainty that my "charismatic" friends meet and hear from Him on a regular basis. But, I feel as if I am still slogging through muck. I have watched with great interest the beginnings of an "urban monasticism" but have not felt that this is the life for me either. I hestitate to mention this, but my experience in watching these "urban monks" (some of whom are dear friends) is that there is an intense emphasis on prayer (something that certainly holds true to the medieval models they emulate) but very little emphasis on learning (something completely untrue - it is because of the monastic committment to learning that we have many of the great works of religion and philosophy available for modern consumption.)
I feel stifled intellectually at times. I cannot deny the importance of "experiencing God" but I wonder why it takes such great precedence. Surely, God gave me a mind and a love for learning for a reason. Is it not possible to incorporate both? My beef is this (and I admit it is a beef greatly colored by my current state of depression and frustration) - why are so few people interested in understanding anything beyond the experience?
I could fill pages with the knowledge of history that has greatly enhanced my relationship with God and his world. I could give you fascinating information about Count von Zinzendorf and the Moravian movement - one of the areas I've studied and researched extensively over the last year. I could tell you about a wide variety of religious movements, each one designed to correct some fault in a previous movement, and I could point out that each of these movements is eventually replaced by someone who thinks that they, too, are wrong, and that this pattern has continued into the present day. But few are interested. Most want only to have that "crazy charismatic" encounter with God, not to really know about him, to realize that what he is doing in the world today owes so much to what he has done in the past.
Meh. I'm done. I'm sure some of you have responses. Please know that my intention is not to criticize. My intention is simply to blow off some of the questions floating through my muddled brain. I have a very fond relationship with all of the things that I have chosen to comment on here. But, I still find myself asking questions about them, wondering if they could not be made bettter. Perhaps, I am the opposite of a forward-looking visionary type. My understanding of God will always be rooted in the history that I have studied so intently - not living in the past, but greatly influenced by the myriad of wonderful traditions that can be found there.
With all that said, I'm off to buy cookies. I need sugar to sustain me through three hours of lecutring on "Abnormal Psychology" for the evening!
This week the depression is strong, and I have spent most of my hours bombarded by questions that don't seem to have answers and by questions I thought I had answered long ago. I find myself exhausted (sleep has once again become an illusory concept) and angry.
I have wondered again this week if it's worth it - this current method of pursuing God that I have chosen. I read a book this week (one I highly reccommend - Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner) that described a lifestyle of study and liturgy that I could easily fall in love with. Winner is currently completing her doctorate in the history of American religion from Columbia University. She also did her bachelor's degree at Columbia, and spaced the bachelor's and doctoral degrees out with a master's degree from Cambridge in England.
At some point during her college experience, Winner converted from Orthodox Judaism to Christianity, and while she was in England, was baptised into the Anglican church.
I read her book, and wished for her bankroll - I have pursued a history degree, focusing primarily on the Protestant Reformation in Europe for the last four years. At Christmas, I will graduate, not only broke, but $11000 in debt. I would love to pursue a master's in this, but know that I do not want to spend my life as a university lecturer. Studying further is simply not an option. But, the cerebral, academic life, ensconced in books and stimulating discussion is greatly appealing to me.
The liturgy of churches like the Anglican church is appealing as well. I find so much beauty and meaning in the rituals that have lasted for hundreds of years. Something comforting in knowing that the order of service has not been greatly altered since the Elizabethan era. Something sustaining in all that history - the good and bad, but the unending nature of it.
I have spent the last two years pursuing a more "charismatic" understanding of relationship with God - one as far from the deliberately liturgical as possible most weeks, and I find it exhausting. I don't quite fit in this circle - I am far too cerebral, far too interested in thinking deeply. I tire easily of the rhetoric that seems to say that this is the only "true" way of expressing the church of the New Testament. I feel caught between my conservative family members who don't quite agree with this pursuit of mine, and the friends who keep promising that God has something "more" for me if I just keep going.
I have met God there, and I know with certainty that my "charismatic" friends meet and hear from Him on a regular basis. But, I feel as if I am still slogging through muck. I have watched with great interest the beginnings of an "urban monasticism" but have not felt that this is the life for me either. I hestitate to mention this, but my experience in watching these "urban monks" (some of whom are dear friends) is that there is an intense emphasis on prayer (something that certainly holds true to the medieval models they emulate) but very little emphasis on learning (something completely untrue - it is because of the monastic committment to learning that we have many of the great works of religion and philosophy available for modern consumption.)
I feel stifled intellectually at times. I cannot deny the importance of "experiencing God" but I wonder why it takes such great precedence. Surely, God gave me a mind and a love for learning for a reason. Is it not possible to incorporate both? My beef is this (and I admit it is a beef greatly colored by my current state of depression and frustration) - why are so few people interested in understanding anything beyond the experience?
I could fill pages with the knowledge of history that has greatly enhanced my relationship with God and his world. I could give you fascinating information about Count von Zinzendorf and the Moravian movement - one of the areas I've studied and researched extensively over the last year. I could tell you about a wide variety of religious movements, each one designed to correct some fault in a previous movement, and I could point out that each of these movements is eventually replaced by someone who thinks that they, too, are wrong, and that this pattern has continued into the present day. But few are interested. Most want only to have that "crazy charismatic" encounter with God, not to really know about him, to realize that what he is doing in the world today owes so much to what he has done in the past.
Meh. I'm done. I'm sure some of you have responses. Please know that my intention is not to criticize. My intention is simply to blow off some of the questions floating through my muddled brain. I have a very fond relationship with all of the things that I have chosen to comment on here. But, I still find myself asking questions about them, wondering if they could not be made bettter. Perhaps, I am the opposite of a forward-looking visionary type. My understanding of God will always be rooted in the history that I have studied so intently - not living in the past, but greatly influenced by the myriad of wonderful traditions that can be found there.
With all that said, I'm off to buy cookies. I need sugar to sustain me through three hours of lecutring on "Abnormal Psychology" for the evening!
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Post Script
Okay... just wrote a whole post, and then it didn't publish - it disappeared into the shadows somewhere. Most days I love technology, at this moment I'm not so sure!
I was reading this and this, and they made me add a postscript to my thoughts from my previous post.
I mostly wanted to say that I really don't think it is an absolutely necessary thing to attend church like a robot, whether you want to or not on any given Sunday. However, I do think that church can be a beautiful, important, and life-giving part of the week.
I've been wounded by the church a great deal over the years, and I continually find myself asking why I go back? What, you ask, is my answer to that question? It's quite simple really. I keep attending church because I meet God there.
Now, let me be clear. Church is not the be-all and end-all. I meet God in the words of a beautiful song or poem, in a stunning novel (I met Him just yesterday in an obscure passage of Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis), in the beauty of nature that surrounds me (both in the city and out), in the words of a friend in crisis, in the tears that slip down my face when no one's looking, in my friends and family, on the bus, in the bathtub or shower (God has this odd habit of speaking to me in the shower!), in so many random and beautiful places. But, there is something beautiful about knowing that, by scheduling time for him (church) if I come with open hands and a willing heart, I will meet him in that time.
Should church attendance be mandated? No. Do I think it is important? Yes.
However, my thoughts continue to be muddled on this issue. My decision about church is just that - my decision. This is one of those issues that I think must be decided individually, between a person, and God.
I was reading this and this, and they made me add a postscript to my thoughts from my previous post.
I mostly wanted to say that I really don't think it is an absolutely necessary thing to attend church like a robot, whether you want to or not on any given Sunday. However, I do think that church can be a beautiful, important, and life-giving part of the week.
I've been wounded by the church a great deal over the years, and I continually find myself asking why I go back? What, you ask, is my answer to that question? It's quite simple really. I keep attending church because I meet God there.
Now, let me be clear. Church is not the be-all and end-all. I meet God in the words of a beautiful song or poem, in a stunning novel (I met Him just yesterday in an obscure passage of Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis), in the beauty of nature that surrounds me (both in the city and out), in the words of a friend in crisis, in the tears that slip down my face when no one's looking, in my friends and family, on the bus, in the bathtub or shower (God has this odd habit of speaking to me in the shower!), in so many random and beautiful places. But, there is something beautiful about knowing that, by scheduling time for him (church) if I come with open hands and a willing heart, I will meet him in that time.
Should church attendance be mandated? No. Do I think it is important? Yes.
However, my thoughts continue to be muddled on this issue. My decision about church is just that - my decision. This is one of those issues that I think must be decided individually, between a person, and God.
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