A bright spot on an excessively long composition exam today was an essay by Isaac Asimov. He challenges society's definition of intelligence. I think its a good start to thinking about all the ways culture screws with real value and worth. Its short, take a minute and read it.
What is intelligence, anyway?
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
we have set our hope
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion, and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. ...We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us..." 2 Corinthians 1:3-5, 8b-10
I'm not sure I can say that I've ever actually felt the "sentence of death." That's a very intense statement. Although, in the last few weeks and months I have been despairing. To be honest, in the last few months and weeks, my despair has reached an alarming depth. A few nights ago, I found myself in the darkest place I think I have ever been.
But God is the Father of Jesus Christ, the father -- the Source, the Originator -- of compassion, the God of all comfort. And I can rely on him to deliver me as he has done before.
He comforts us so that we can also comfort others with that same compassion he shows us. Jordan, my wonderful Jordan, was here last week and we were able to enter into this sharing of God's comfort. We spent hours talking and crying, sharing in one another's burdens, and offering words of comfort, encouragement, and exhortation. God overflowed through Jordan and into my life in a tangible and understandable way.
I can't say that the despair has lifted. But, I do see hope. And I am beginning to again place my reliance fully in God, not in myself and not in those around me. My strength, my validation, my hope must be in him. My God is mighty to save. He will deliver me.
our comfort will overflow...
...on him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us.
I'm not sure I can say that I've ever actually felt the "sentence of death." That's a very intense statement. Although, in the last few weeks and months I have been despairing. To be honest, in the last few months and weeks, my despair has reached an alarming depth. A few nights ago, I found myself in the darkest place I think I have ever been.
But God is the Father of Jesus Christ, the father -- the Source, the Originator -- of compassion, the God of all comfort. And I can rely on him to deliver me as he has done before.
He comforts us so that we can also comfort others with that same compassion he shows us. Jordan, my wonderful Jordan, was here last week and we were able to enter into this sharing of God's comfort. We spent hours talking and crying, sharing in one another's burdens, and offering words of comfort, encouragement, and exhortation. God overflowed through Jordan and into my life in a tangible and understandable way.
I can't say that the despair has lifted. But, I do see hope. And I am beginning to again place my reliance fully in God, not in myself and not in those around me. My strength, my validation, my hope must be in him. My God is mighty to save. He will deliver me.
our comfort will overflow...
...on him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
part one
I've been reading the three Johns recently. I finished them up the other day and decided to read them again. I think maybe I shall thrice go through them. But, this morning, some very familiar verses in chapter three stood out to me.
"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brothers in need, but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue, but with actions and in truth." (v16-18)
...we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. Who is my brother? I ask this and immediately think of the story of the good Samaritan. An expert in the law asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus prompts him to answer his own question and the man says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,' and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself'." The man then asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?"
It is interesting that after telling the parable, Jesus asks, "Which of these do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?" Rather than directly answering the man's question of who his neighbor was, Jesus turns it around and asks the expert to whom he will be a neighbor. The expert answers, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus says,
"Go and do likewise."
Our brothers, our neighbors, are those who are need of mercy. We are all in need of mercy, are we not? I won’t lie, I don’t really like the definition Jesus gives me. There are a lot of people I can think if right now that I do not want to consider my neighbors. I want to be able to pick and choose who I would like to include in my family. But that isn’t the way it works. I mean, I seriously doubt that the Samaritan was stoked to pick up some bloody, stinking wretch from the side of the road, walk so the stranger could have his ride, and then use his own money to pay for the man’s care.
These are the situations I like to avoid. The really messy ones. “Go and do likewise.” Really, Jesus? Do I have to?
The Samaritan believed something I have yet to fully accept. The battered man was not by any means a friend by societal standards. He was an enemy. He was his oppressor. Maybe directly, most likely, indirectly. Nonetheless, the Samaritan saw past the rigid structure of his culture, past the lies of division and inequality, and straight into the eyes of a fellow child of the Most High. This man knew that God had ascribed value to this man just as God had ascribed value to him.
Who is my brother? Who is my sister? Do I really believe that all people are as valuable as I am? Do I believe that I am valuable?
Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.
"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brothers in need, but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue, but with actions and in truth." (v16-18)
...we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. Who is my brother? I ask this and immediately think of the story of the good Samaritan. An expert in the law asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus prompts him to answer his own question and the man says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,' and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself'." The man then asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?"
It is interesting that after telling the parable, Jesus asks, "Which of these do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?" Rather than directly answering the man's question of who his neighbor was, Jesus turns it around and asks the expert to whom he will be a neighbor. The expert answers, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus says,
"Go and do likewise."
Our brothers, our neighbors, are those who are need of mercy. We are all in need of mercy, are we not? I won’t lie, I don’t really like the definition Jesus gives me. There are a lot of people I can think if right now that I do not want to consider my neighbors. I want to be able to pick and choose who I would like to include in my family. But that isn’t the way it works. I mean, I seriously doubt that the Samaritan was stoked to pick up some bloody, stinking wretch from the side of the road, walk so the stranger could have his ride, and then use his own money to pay for the man’s care.
These are the situations I like to avoid. The really messy ones. “Go and do likewise.” Really, Jesus? Do I have to?
The Samaritan believed something I have yet to fully accept. The battered man was not by any means a friend by societal standards. He was an enemy. He was his oppressor. Maybe directly, most likely, indirectly. Nonetheless, the Samaritan saw past the rigid structure of his culture, past the lies of division and inequality, and straight into the eyes of a fellow child of the Most High. This man knew that God had ascribed value to this man just as God had ascribed value to him.
Who is my brother? Who is my sister? Do I really believe that all people are as valuable as I am? Do I believe that I am valuable?
Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.
Monday, November 17, 2008
i've gotta use it.
Twice this week, this has happened to me. While working intently on a paper in a local coffee shop, I've had the urge to utilize the "wash room" for a while...but, I've got to complete this paragraph. Finally, my body goes into high alert and with it my brain and sense of pride -- finishing a sentence at the price of walking around the rest of the day with wet pants is not worth it. So, I get up and try to calmly make my way to the bathroom, nervous smile plastered to my face. Inevitably, someone stops me to chat. I squirm, trying to be polite as they finish their extended greeting.
Then I'm there. I've made it. Almost. Something doesn't look quite right. Toilet paper is dissolving in the bottom of the potty. I'm suspicious. I decide to flush the toilet first -- just to make sure. Bad idea. Yep. The water in the toilet does not recede. Instead, the bowl begins to fill at an alarming rate.
Note to self: In these circumstances, just adhere to the rule about "if its yellow, let it mellow..." Lindsey. Just pee in the toilet. DON'T FLUSH IT FIRST.
On both occasions, I have been lucky -- the water stopped JUST in time. You know, at that point where just enough water is sloshing out of the toilet to get your shoes a little wet.
What is one to do? I mean, if you go out and tell the baristas that "someone else clogged the toilet and now its overflowing..." do you REALLY think they're going to believe that? Besides, these people are my friends...I don't want them to deal with it. The worst thing to do is just leave it. That's really a jerk thing to do. That's why I'm in this mess in the first place. So, I end up standing over the toilet, plunger in hand, obscenities trying to escape through my pursed lips.
...by now, I'm about to burst.
one way or another, we collide. my decisions and yours inevitably affect the lives of others.
Then I'm there. I've made it. Almost. Something doesn't look quite right. Toilet paper is dissolving in the bottom of the potty. I'm suspicious. I decide to flush the toilet first -- just to make sure. Bad idea. Yep. The water in the toilet does not recede. Instead, the bowl begins to fill at an alarming rate.
Note to self: In these circumstances, just adhere to the rule about "if its yellow, let it mellow..." Lindsey. Just pee in the toilet. DON'T FLUSH IT FIRST.
On both occasions, I have been lucky -- the water stopped JUST in time. You know, at that point where just enough water is sloshing out of the toilet to get your shoes a little wet.
What is one to do? I mean, if you go out and tell the baristas that "someone else clogged the toilet and now its overflowing..." do you REALLY think they're going to believe that? Besides, these people are my friends...I don't want them to deal with it. The worst thing to do is just leave it. That's really a jerk thing to do. That's why I'm in this mess in the first place. So, I end up standing over the toilet, plunger in hand, obscenities trying to escape through my pursed lips.
...by now, I'm about to burst.
one way or another, we collide. my decisions and yours inevitably affect the lives of others.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
hope
Yesterday, I heard the news about Allison. She was 21 years old. I barely knew her. It has been almost a year since I last saw her -- gorgeous curly brown hair, big brown eyes, and a smile that covered half of her face.
When Katie told me yesterday, she said, "If only she could have just seen some little bit of hope..."
In The Secret Life of Bees, there is a woman named May who is a "little off," but is this way because she feels the burdens of the world so deeply. It is said many times that she carries the weight of the world. In her backyard, she and her sisters have constructed her very own "wailing wall" where she goes with those burdens, writes them on a piece of paper, and tucks it beneath the stones. In one scene, after she hears some particularly disturbing news about a boy dear to her, she goes to the wall, in shock. After some time had passed, her sisters began to wonder why she had been gone so long. Not finding her at the wall, they begin to search for her, eventually finding her in the creek behind their home, with a rock on her chest. Later, they find that she has left a note. In it, she tells them that the pain became to great to bear.
I was reading Lamentations 3 earlier. We like to pull verses 21-24 out a lot. And for good reason, they're incredible. But rarely do we consider the rest of the passage. Those verses are only really incredible because of the context they're in. I mean, Jeremiah was really "going through." "he has driven and brought me into darkness without any light," "though I call and cry for help, he shuts out my prayers," "he drove into my kidneys the arrows of his quiver," "I have become the laughingstock of all peoples." "He has made my teeth grind on gravel, and made me cower in ashes; my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is; so I say, 'My endurance has perished so has my hope from the Lord.'"
hopelessness.
But, he goes on to say,
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.
The Lord is my portion, says my soul,
therefore I will hope in him.
The Lord is good to those who wait for him
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good for one to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."
The truth is, apart from the steadfast love of the Lord, there is no hope. But with him, every moment of our lives has the potential of being saturated with a hopeful expectation of a life free of the burdens of this world, one in which we are all liberated, one in which we are all at peace, one in which we are all ALIVE.
hold fast to that hope. it's all we've got.
When Katie told me yesterday, she said, "If only she could have just seen some little bit of hope..."
In The Secret Life of Bees, there is a woman named May who is a "little off," but is this way because she feels the burdens of the world so deeply. It is said many times that she carries the weight of the world. In her backyard, she and her sisters have constructed her very own "wailing wall" where she goes with those burdens, writes them on a piece of paper, and tucks it beneath the stones. In one scene, after she hears some particularly disturbing news about a boy dear to her, she goes to the wall, in shock. After some time had passed, her sisters began to wonder why she had been gone so long. Not finding her at the wall, they begin to search for her, eventually finding her in the creek behind their home, with a rock on her chest. Later, they find that she has left a note. In it, she tells them that the pain became to great to bear.
I was reading Lamentations 3 earlier. We like to pull verses 21-24 out a lot. And for good reason, they're incredible. But rarely do we consider the rest of the passage. Those verses are only really incredible because of the context they're in. I mean, Jeremiah was really "going through." "he has driven and brought me into darkness without any light," "though I call and cry for help, he shuts out my prayers," "he drove into my kidneys the arrows of his quiver," "I have become the laughingstock of all peoples." "He has made my teeth grind on gravel, and made me cower in ashes; my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is; so I say, 'My endurance has perished so has my hope from the Lord.'"
hopelessness.
But, he goes on to say,
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.
The Lord is my portion, says my soul,
therefore I will hope in him.
The Lord is good to those who wait for him
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good for one to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord."
The truth is, apart from the steadfast love of the Lord, there is no hope. But with him, every moment of our lives has the potential of being saturated with a hopeful expectation of a life free of the burdens of this world, one in which we are all liberated, one in which we are all at peace, one in which we are all ALIVE.
hold fast to that hope. it's all we've got.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
God is not a Capitalist.
I need to be writing an essay for school. I can't. My mind is being pulled in a hundred different directions. Unfortunately, not one of those is leading me down the path to completing (or even beginning, for that matter) this essay.
I was walking through the living room, and in passing heard a preview for an upcoming 700 Club segment. (Let me clarify that no one was in the living room, watching the 700 Club. I'm not sure why I feel such a strong need to tell you that...My pride doesn't want my family to be associated with Pat Robertson.) Anyway. The sound bite was something like, "See how one missionary's ideas could change an entire country in Africa." My initial intention of getting water from the kitchen was completely forgotten and I froze and stared at the TV.
REALLY? ONE man is going to change an African country with HIS ideas? His picture flashed across the screen and as I suspected, he wasn't himself African. He was a white American.
I didn't take the time to watch the segment. Its possible that the guy has pure intentions and a solid plan. But, more often than not, it seems that people waltz into other people's context thinking that they know the answers to everyone else's problems.
I think it is terribly unfortunate that people (myself included) see the world through such a biased, ethnocentric perspective that we believe that our way is the best way and everyone else is doing life wrong.
In the big picture, that means (to me) that it is not our job to take Capitalism and Americanized Christianity to the rest of the world. Just because it works (or does it?) for us does not mean that it is the solution for the world's problems. We are not called to proselytize. We are called to LOVE. I believe that an essential part of loving people is allowing them to use their own God given power, creativity, and perspective to build their own structures of government and their own practices in worshiping their Creator. If it is not simply the message of God's love, grace, and hope that we are taking to the lives of our brother's and sisters -- if we are attempting to indoctrinate them, to convince them to see the world through our eyes and to live according to our values and norms...then we become oppressors.
God is not confined to our systems, our beliefs, our practices. God is outside of and above all of those things. Certainly, he can use our pitiful attempts at government to further his work. But, that's all they are -- pitiful attempts. Everything established by man will fail. It will not last.
It is the message of the Kingdom of Heaven we cry out. A Kingdom of peace, justice, equality, grace, and love.
I was walking through the living room, and in passing heard a preview for an upcoming 700 Club segment. (Let me clarify that no one was in the living room, watching the 700 Club. I'm not sure why I feel such a strong need to tell you that...My pride doesn't want my family to be associated with Pat Robertson.) Anyway. The sound bite was something like, "See how one missionary's ideas could change an entire country in Africa." My initial intention of getting water from the kitchen was completely forgotten and I froze and stared at the TV.
REALLY? ONE man is going to change an African country with HIS ideas? His picture flashed across the screen and as I suspected, he wasn't himself African. He was a white American.
I didn't take the time to watch the segment. Its possible that the guy has pure intentions and a solid plan. But, more often than not, it seems that people waltz into other people's context thinking that they know the answers to everyone else's problems.
I think it is terribly unfortunate that people (myself included) see the world through such a biased, ethnocentric perspective that we believe that our way is the best way and everyone else is doing life wrong.
In the big picture, that means (to me) that it is not our job to take Capitalism and Americanized Christianity to the rest of the world. Just because it works (or does it?) for us does not mean that it is the solution for the world's problems. We are not called to proselytize. We are called to LOVE. I believe that an essential part of loving people is allowing them to use their own God given power, creativity, and perspective to build their own structures of government and their own practices in worshiping their Creator. If it is not simply the message of God's love, grace, and hope that we are taking to the lives of our brother's and sisters -- if we are attempting to indoctrinate them, to convince them to see the world through our eyes and to live according to our values and norms...then we become oppressors.
God is not confined to our systems, our beliefs, our practices. God is outside of and above all of those things. Certainly, he can use our pitiful attempts at government to further his work. But, that's all they are -- pitiful attempts. Everything established by man will fail. It will not last.
It is the message of the Kingdom of Heaven we cry out. A Kingdom of peace, justice, equality, grace, and love.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
when your latte is free
I’m volunteering at Valley Mission once a week. I wish I could say I was doing it simply because I was compelled to keep living what I love to preach. But, I’m not. Two of my classes require that I have a combined total of 38 hours of community service. (Considering that number represented (less than) a week last year, it seemed like it would be a breeze. That is, until I realized I needed to factor in classes, homework, work, family life, friends, sleep and eating (oh yeah…I forgot about that again). Anyway, this is not a blog about my schedule.) Still, I am so thankful that God led me to the Mission. Although the environment and the staff’s expectations of me are very different, it has been so refreshing to be in the presence of people who can’t afford to do anything but be authentic. In many cases, their individuality is all they have left.
I already have stories to tell of the beautiful people I have met. Maybe I’ll tell some of those later. But, on to Beverly.
I met Beverly about a month ago at Starbucks while I was furiously making pumpkin spice lattes. She came in and everyone working with me greeted her really enthusiastically. I realized pretty quickly that she was a really special customer. It didn’t take me much longer to figure out why. Every day that she comes in, she enters with a wide smile, an exuberant greeting, and an obvious care for each of us. Her laugh brightens up my day and if only every customer would receive their drink (hers being a quad venti soy with whip pumpkin spice latte) with such joy…
It just so happens that Beverly is the Executive Director of Valley Mission. On Friday, she sat down with me at the desk for a few minutes and shared with me a tiny fragment of her story. Twenty years ago, Beverly lived at the Mission with her family. Now, she is well known in the social service community and is making a huge difference in the world around her.
She says she has a bad habit -- stopping her car whenever she sees a homeless person and asking them to come with her to the Mission. (I told her that I didn’t think it was a bad habit.) A few days ago, she was on her way to work and she saw a man on the side of the street holding a sign, asking for money. Slightly annoyed, she told God, “Well, alright, Lord. But let me get my coffee first.” She pulled in to Starbucks, ordered her drink, and the barista refused to let her pay. She had $10 in her wallet and, having gotten a $5 drink for free, she thanked God for giving her an extra $5 to give to the man.
Give and it will be given...
Now, I know there are a lot of arguments against giving money directly to the homeless. I’m not going to go into all of that. But, as she was telling me the story, my first thought was -- “awesome. God took care of her. She can give the guy five bucks and keep five.” But, no…she gave it all to him. The thought of keeping the money didn’t even enter her mind.
Lord, grant me a willing and generous heart.
I already have stories to tell of the beautiful people I have met. Maybe I’ll tell some of those later. But, on to Beverly.
I met Beverly about a month ago at Starbucks while I was furiously making pumpkin spice lattes. She came in and everyone working with me greeted her really enthusiastically. I realized pretty quickly that she was a really special customer. It didn’t take me much longer to figure out why. Every day that she comes in, she enters with a wide smile, an exuberant greeting, and an obvious care for each of us. Her laugh brightens up my day and if only every customer would receive their drink (hers being a quad venti soy with whip pumpkin spice latte) with such joy…
It just so happens that Beverly is the Executive Director of Valley Mission. On Friday, she sat down with me at the desk for a few minutes and shared with me a tiny fragment of her story. Twenty years ago, Beverly lived at the Mission with her family. Now, she is well known in the social service community and is making a huge difference in the world around her.
She says she has a bad habit -- stopping her car whenever she sees a homeless person and asking them to come with her to the Mission. (I told her that I didn’t think it was a bad habit.) A few days ago, she was on her way to work and she saw a man on the side of the street holding a sign, asking for money. Slightly annoyed, she told God, “Well, alright, Lord. But let me get my coffee first.” She pulled in to Starbucks, ordered her drink, and the barista refused to let her pay. She had $10 in her wallet and, having gotten a $5 drink for free, she thanked God for giving her an extra $5 to give to the man.
Give and it will be given...
Now, I know there are a lot of arguments against giving money directly to the homeless. I’m not going to go into all of that. But, as she was telling me the story, my first thought was -- “awesome. God took care of her. She can give the guy five bucks and keep five.” But, no…she gave it all to him. The thought of keeping the money didn’t even enter her mind.
Lord, grant me a willing and generous heart.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
holy tears
Darkness has not surrendered to light this morning. The clouds hover ominously, desperately trying to contain the rapidly increasing number of raindrops within. The weight becomes too great and, bursting forth from clouds’ bloated bellies, the rain drops begin their freefall. Falling, still falling, the ever changing droplets fill the air. Soft, transparent stones erecting an ephemeral liquid wall.
Whether it is my temper that affects theirs, or theirs mine, I am not sure. At times, it seems as though the rain drops are calling, inviting me to join their joyful dance upon the parched ground. Their silent descent ends with a jubilant spattering, like the pitter patter of little feet. Today, however, it seems as though the rain drops have been forced from their lofty resting place, plummeting sorrowfully, crashing helplessly into the ravenous ground below. I feel somehow responsible. It is as though God himself weeps with me this morning, his great eyes overflowing with tears, spilling forth from Heaven, falling to the wretched earth. Saturated, I stand purified as holy tears mingle with my own.
Whether it is my temper that affects theirs, or theirs mine, I am not sure. At times, it seems as though the rain drops are calling, inviting me to join their joyful dance upon the parched ground. Their silent descent ends with a jubilant spattering, like the pitter patter of little feet. Today, however, it seems as though the rain drops have been forced from their lofty resting place, plummeting sorrowfully, crashing helplessly into the ravenous ground below. I feel somehow responsible. It is as though God himself weeps with me this morning, his great eyes overflowing with tears, spilling forth from Heaven, falling to the wretched earth. Saturated, I stand purified as holy tears mingle with my own.
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