Beauty for Ashes

Thought's Captive, part three

2012-01-29T17:27:00.000-08:00

Becoming Thought's Captor

Lady Macbeth - Elisabeth Ney
image via popartmachine.com

Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor?

Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, that keep her from her rest.

Macbeth: Cure [her] of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart?

Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.

But Lady Macbeth could not, or perhaps would not minister to herself. For in order to be healed it would be necessary for her to face the terror of the fanged serpent within. She would have to admit her guilt and face the shame and consequences her actions deserved. Finding herself trapped between two intolerables, she went mad. Refusing to contemplate her wicked acts while awake, she suffered the somnambulant lunacy of a conscience at war with her monster-self.

Shakespeare's clairvoyance of human nature has kept his work alive and relevant through the ages, but this is only so because human nature has not changed. His tragedies reveal to us the furthest ends to which unrestrained evil will go, and the toll it takes on sinner and victim alike. So, for the sake of the tragedy, Shakespeare did not offer his characters redemption, or when he did, he deepened the tragedy by not permitting them to accept it.

"Try what repentance can. What can it not?

Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?

O wretched state! O bosom black as death!

O limed soul, that struggling to be free

Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay,

Bow, stubborn knees, and heart, with strings of steel,

Be soft as sinews of the new born babe!

All may be well.....

"My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:

Words without thoughts never to heaven go."

Claudius, King of Denmark, Hamlet

My thanks fly to highest heaven that Shakespeare is not the author of my life, because mine is not a tale of tragedy or comedy (though it contains plenty of both). Mine is a story of redemption and peace. Though I was no Lady Macbeth, I lived with my own dark character, deeds, and fears and had my own shame and consequences to avoid. But perhaps even more daunting than those was the embarrassing lack of desire to be the kind of person I knew I should be. Why should I do good when others do not? Why should I forgive others when they don't forgive me, or when they refuse to change or even be sorry?  Why should I deny myself the pleasures of my undisciplined ways? Why should I commit myself to the hard, hard work and oft-denied pleasures that are part and parcel of a virtuous life?

Hence came the temptation from within and the encouragement from others to medicate my condition.

For a time the sin nature's hissing would be quieted. I was always, on some level, aware that it lived there still, but as it more silently went about its business, its ways of undermining my life and peace only became more secretive. That subtle creature remained my captor. Taking the medication away did not set me free from my depression. I did not expect it to. Pain, you see, has its purpose. It's an alarm to alert us that something is wrong. It is not meant to be ignored. I knew when I gave it up that living unmedicated would be a challenge, but hoped that the arduous ordeal of grief and withdrawal, once survived, would make any depression I suffered later seem insignificant. It didn't.

Dark, bitter, and hopeless ways of thinking had spent many years making their home with me. Our relationship was both passionate and abusive. As in an abusive marriage, the patterns of life we'd settled into together were intricately woven. My thoughts, on the one hand, charmed me. They loved me and would defend me ferociously. They would take my side against others, make excuses for me, absolve me of guilt, and soothe my self-image. They would encourage me to build cases against people who'd hurt or offended me, or people whose excellence made me feel inferior. They would judge them to find them lacking. Sometimes they would goad me into acting against them in subtle or not-so-subtle ways, trying to make them feel sorry for me, or to lay guilt on them for their behaviors. Once things had gone too far in this direction, they would take the other hand, team up with my troubled conscience and turn on me, telling me how everybody hates me and will never forgive me (even God....even though they should forgive me because they're no better than me...see how fickle the thoughts are!), how I'm a monster who should never have been born, and how I'd be better off dead.

Though this deceptive cycle characterized of years of my life, I was none the wiser. I continued to fall for it. When my head is clear, I can see that it is little different than the relationship I had with alcohol. I would welcome, nurture, and trust in it until it turned on me, which eventually and inevitably it would.  I was no match for the forces that were destroying me.  I was truly my thoughts' captive.

But the day I first trusted Christ, a new life truly was born in this worn out old body of mine. This life was characterized by an all-consuming love for Christ and desire to be like Him. For the first time I saw Him and His words, even His commands as beautiful and right. This had never happened before. This new life in me cried out to be lived, wanting to be fed, and like a new mother with her first baby, I had to learn, listen, and respond appropriately to these new cries, letting them pull me out of the deep ruts of a life devoted to myself. I had to put off that old "body of death", that clung so tightly and felt heavy enough to drag me back to darkness.  Like the apostle I would find myself crying, "Who will deliver me?" and I would find my answer in the words, "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

This excruciating struggle which continues to this day as the life of God in me grows and finds itself at war with my lingering old self is what the Scripture refers as "spiritual warfare."

"For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ..." 2 Cor. 10: 3-5

"and take... the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." Eph. 6:17

Our minds are the spiritual battleground. Our thoughts are the weapons which either defend or destroy us. The intent of the enemy is to steal, to kill, and to destroy. Christ came to give us abundant life (John 10: 9-11). According to the Scripture, my part in this battle is to take captive the very thought life that once made a prisoner of me. The only way to win the battle is to take responsibility for my thoughts and make them obedient to Christ. In order to do so, it is essential that I set my mind on the things of Christ.

"Those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God." Romans 8:5-8

A mind set on the Spirit means a mind deeply rooted in the Scriptures, which are God's words given to us by the Holy Spirit through his apostles and prophets. In His words we will find all we need. In them God reveals Himself to us. Through them that we can know Him and learn of His great power and His promises to us. And through this knowledge the unimaginable takes place - we become partakers of the divine nature:

"His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire." 2 Peter 1:3-4

And all this transformation occurs not through magic, or osmosis. It is not an automatic result of exposure to Scripture - though God's Word is essential. It is the product of a mind determined to be changed by the knowledge of God. The sword of the Spirit must be wielded! Spiritual worship, the Scripture tells us, is a very practical and intentional matter:

"I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." Romans 12:1-2

I would say that the first step for the Christian struggling with battles of the mind is to become devoted to knowing God through the Scriptures and to believing what you learn of Him there. This will become the heart of your transformation. The first step for a non-Christian is to trust Jesus Christ, as He is presented in the Scriptures, and find peace with God through Him. This peace with God, made available to us through the loving sacrifice of Christ, is the purpose of redemption and it is the fountain of all peace.

In my next posts I will discuss some of the nuts and bolts that have helped me survive various battles for my mind. My prayer is that in whatever place you find yourself in your struggles, you will find some encouragement and some more weapons for your fight.

Thought's Captive, part two

2012-01-25T18:23:00.000-08:00

(You may read Part One in this series here.)

During those first tragic and glorious October days in 2004, my devastated heart, overwhelmed by grief, finally trusted Christ and embraced hope. At first, in some ways, my hope was misdirected. I thought that because I trusted Him, He would erase the tragedy, undo all the pain, and make everything just like it was before, only better. It would take some time before I would understand that hoping in Him did not mean things would turn out the way I wished they would, and more time still before I learned that hoping in Him will, eventually, change the things I wish for.

In the meantime, hope was the tiny candle I huddled against in the vast, gaping cavern of grief. Upon learning the first details of the loss I'd suffered, my stomach heaved and I began to wretch. It would be a week before I could keep down food, much longer before I would feel hunger again. For the first time in my life I found I couldn't sleep, or if I did, I would awake at the same dark hour of the morning at which I had first woken to learn of my great loss and get up to drive aimlessly through the dusk-lit streets of our town. Another week or so left me looking so thin and haggard that a friend urged me to get to the doctor. I did. He sent me home with more medication: an antibiotic cocktail to rid me of H-Pylori, and Klonapin (which I was told would help me sleep). The grief and the antibiotic regimen made such a mess of me that in three months I lost 30 lbs. and looked like an anorexic.

Through this dark time, as I grew weaker and weaker, my faith in Christ grew stronger. Blaming alcohol in large part for my troubles, I'd given up drinking that very first October day. But I found that my appetite for food had also dried up. The only hunger I had left was a desperate craving for God's Word. I spent hours a day reading Scriptures and examining the first 40 years of my life in the light of them. Body fasting, heart filling, I was unwittingly preparing for the challenge that lay at the next fork in my road.

In December, three months into this new life, a friend from bygone days contacted me. Our friendship had crumbled years before under the weight of his drug addiction, but he had since gotten into recovery and had been clean for a few years. He'd heard of my troubles and wanted know if there was any way he could help. As a new Christian, I wanted to tell him - an unbeliever - about how I'd gotten saved and how great it was to trust in Christ. I don't recall how the subject of depression came up, or how he found out that I had been taking anti-depressants. What I do remember was feeling my credibility as a follower of Christ crumbling in his eyes.

He told me many things I didn't really want to hear. I was shocked and hurt, but I heard him out because he spoke with the voice of experience, and with the genuine concern of a friend. As a recovering drug addict, he'd spent several years in programs with many other recovering substance abusers. Many of these people, as you might imagine, wind up taking anti-depressants. He related story after story of friends who, after taking one such psychoactive drug for a while would be switched to another, and then another, and another still, as each once either failed or else ceased to be effective. Often these people ended up dependent upon a veritable cocktail of prescribed medications which were not all that effective, which they were unable to function without, and which they were unable to give up due to the hazards withdrawal presented to their fragile mental states. In short, what he'd seen were addicts becoming...well...addicts. He urged me to get off of the anti-depressants as quickly as possible.

Shaken, I assured him I would think about what he said. I hung up and sat there, stunned. I had expected to tell him all about what God had done in my life - how, in spite of my grief, I was so much better than I had ever been. But here was this man who didn't share my faith in Christ worried sick about the path I was taking. He did not see me as a Christian whose life was being radically transformed by faith, but as a person who needed to be rescued from the road to addiction. As far as he was concerned, I was worse off than when he knew me years before. If what he was telling me about anti-depressants was true, not only was I traveling the same old chemical-dependence road I thought I had left behind, but I was also putting the lie to my testimony of the power and sufficiency of Christ.

Troubled, I prayed for wisdom and went to the internet to see if there was any truth to what he had said. I was sobered by what I found: first by how many of the users of these medications, even those who were happy with them, were also taking this, that, or the other pill to address their sundry psychiatric needs; second, and most disturbingly, by what I learned about the specific anti-depressant I had been prescribed. Apparently it was about as bad as an anti-depressant can be when it comes to discontinuation. At that time I could not find a single account of a person who had successfully discontinued its use. This is not to say that no such people existed, only that in my poking around I could not find one. It was distressing to find so much failure everywhere I looked. Still, I really shouldn't have been so surprised. I'd experienced on more than one occasion the terrifying emotional melt-down that inevitably followed the second missed dose. Though the drug produced none of the highs or cravings associated with drug addiction, coming off of it felt like hell.

I learned that discontinuation of the medication would require months of gradual reduction in dosage, with each reduction renewing the dreadful symptoms of withdrawal. This whole process would have to be overseen by a physician. I tried to imagine going through this for a year or more and was terrified. I tried to imagine getting my doctor to go along with such a program and realized that would likely be impossible. What had I gotten myself into?

The thing is, I knew then what I had always known, whether I was willing to admit it to myself or not - that my depression was a matter of my soul, rooted in my mind and thought life. My experience with cognitive therapy had proven to me that my depression could be reversed, at least temporarily, by changing my thoughts. Though my therapy had reached a dead end, the exercise was valuable for having pointed me to the source of my disorder. I knew that my depression was the symptom of a deeper problem, but I was tired of trying and failing to overcome it. I just wanted the pain to go away. The anti-depressants didn't cure me or even take away the pain. I was still depressed, but they took the edge off, and that seemed better than nothing.

Until I received that phone call from my friend.

I had wanted to tell him about Christ, about how He had carried me through three months of unimaginable grief, during which time I had not turned once to alcohol for comfort, about how He had been my comforter. I'd hoped my friend would see God's love and power at work in my life and put his hope in Christ too. But I realized that my dependence on anti-depressants had invalidated my testimony in his eyes. I realized that if I wanted anyone else to believe in God's power and love and faithfulness, I must believe in it myself and that my belief must prove itself in every aspect of my life.

Did I really believe that God could be trusted with my deepest emotional pain, with my anger, and with my fears? Could I count on Him to bring me safely through all of life's dangers, disappointments, and losses? I pulled up my life and inspected it and became even more convinced that God had been there providing for me every step of the way, even when I didn't trust Him, even when I was certain He was out to destroy me, and that it was my failure to trust Him and recognize His loving care that had been the source of so much of my sin, pain, and depression in the first place. If only I would have trusted in Him years before my life would have been so, so different.

My friend's counsel, my internet research, my honest self-examination, my reflection on God's steadfast love and kindness, when combined with my earnest prayers hardened into that determined resolve known as faith. I was convinced that it was essential that I trust God with my emotional pain and all my fears, and that the time had come for me to do it. Yes, I could trust Him, and I would.

Gripped by faith, I embarked on a course that I would never recommend to another person, but one that I will never, ever regret. I went against all medical advice and gave up my depression and "sleeping" pills cold turkey. I knew my doctor would not understand or support me in my decision, and I knew time was of the essence. I was unemployed and would need to find work before long. I knew I would not be able to work while going through withdrawals. I did not have a year to spend "coming down". I told my then teenage children what I was doing, and why, what they might expect regarding my behavior, and what to do if things started going sideways. Then I began a months-long trek through what felt like the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

The withdrawals began, predictably, on the third day. My mind felt disconnected, as if I'd taken a whole bottle of cold medication, a terrifying feeling which lasted for several months. I had both manic and depressive episodes, and insomnia the likes of which I'd never experienced before or since. As the weeks crept by, I began to wonder if my mind would ever be normal again. After all, how can a chemically altered brain know how to right itself? But I was determined to trust God no matter what. In the meantime, I devoted myself to the Scriptures, to prayer, to taking my crazy self to church whenever the doors were open, and to walking my dog (because I thought the exercise might help my brain re-wire itself). I forced myself to begin doing the things I had neglected doing because of my depression and alcohol abuse: cleaning the house, cooking meals, working on little household projects.

The days and weeks inched slowly into the past, more slowly than I could have imagined possible, but my faith in Christ grew. Eventually, almost imperceptibly, sanity began seeping in. In time I would be blinking the eyes of my soul as I began to awake from a strange, dark, disconnected nightmare, which also happened to be my real life. I would look back on those dark months and remember that through it all I had been guided, carried even, by the gentle hand of God. I'd been the prisoner of my dark and sinful thoughts and the chemicals I used to numb myself to the pain of my captivity, My escape had been harrowing. Looking back, just over my shoulder loomed the towering gates of the prison I had just escaped. I had emerged from the darkness still clinging to the hand of the Savior who had rescued me, and in the brightness of freedom I was filled with hope. So long as I had Christ I had all I needed to face this life and its heartaches.

I would love to be able to say, that I left that dark prison far behind and that life ever since has been a sunshiny day. But the truth is the darkness stalks me. It was the ruler of my life for forty years and will not give me up without a fight. Previously, I had tried to fight this spiritual battle with weapons of the flesh - drugs, alcohol, and worldly wisdom - but now I knew my methods would have to change:

"For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ..." 2 Cor. 10: 3-5

Until Christ set me free, my thoughts were my cruel captors. Now, in order to remain free, I must capture them, make them my captives, and teach them to obey Christ. This very practical process will be the subject of my next posts.

Thought's Captive, part one

2012-01-10T14:58:00.000-08:00

A dozen or so years ago I was diagnosed with depression. Out of respect for those with whom I was closely involved at the time, I will spare the details. Suffice it to say that I realized that some of my critical life-decisions had been dreadful mistakes. Some of them were very foolish; some were very sinful; some were made by others, but whichever the case, my life was never going to be what I had dreamed it might be. When the diagnosis came, I had very recently made a huge life-change that I hoped would finally bring me happiness, stability, and security. Instead, it became quickly evident that it had only made things worse and there was no turning back. With my last hope dead, I began to wish myself dead.

Some days were better than others. Sometimes there would be small things to look forward to, to keep me going. Sometimes I could function as if everything was okay. Sometimes there were fun plans, or fun purchases. But when things would get difficult again the deeper disappointment and hopelessness was always there, lurking just below my consciousness, waiting, whispering, beckoning me toward despair. My happiness, like the crust of the earth over its heated mantle, floated thinly over the surface of the great pressurized, seething mass of my discontent. The slightest crack could lead to an eruption. I would explode in anger, sometimes inwardly, sometimes outwardly, often both; but in any case once the temper subsided I was left feeling like a failure, or a monster, often both. Again my thoughts would turn to suicide. (I have to admit that were it not for the rumors of eternal hell, I would likely not be alive today.)

By this time anti-depressants had become wildly popular. Everybody had heard of Prozac and the people I knew who took it sang its praises. I was miserable and making those closest to me miserable as well. Weary of living in the shadow of my dark cloud, they encouraged me to go to a doctor and get medicated. By that time I was so desperate for any glimmer of happiness and emotional stability that I would accept it even in the form of a pill. I went to the doctor. He handed me a questionnaire, one page, double-spaced as I recall. Easy, a dozen questions or less. I went home with a prescription for Paxil, the latest, greatest thing at the time. It made me feel foggy at first, but after a time that passed.

Along with the pills, I was also given a referral to a counselor.

I think my counselor was a good one, so far as that sort of thing goes. She was calm and understanding. Her recommendations were always reasonable and sensible and never involved anything my then nominal Christianity would have labeled "New Age". My treatment plan was to begin with me working through a book called Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy, by David D. Burns, M.D. Eager to taste happiness, I dove headlong into the homework and just as the book description on Amazon says, I was amazed to experience the results of "the remarkable, scientifically proven techniques that will immediately lift your spirits and help you develop a positive outlook on life." I felt like I had been given new life and was seeing the whole world through new eyes. This lasted for several happy months.

According to the National Association of Cognitive-Behavioral Therapists' website:

"Cognitive-behavioral therapy is based on the idea that our thoughts cause our feelings and behaviors, not external things, like people, situations, and events. The benefit of this fact is that we can change the way we think to feel/act better even if the situation does not change...

Simply put: Cognitive behavioral therapy taught me to re-think things, and this re-thinking really did work. For a time, I was able to look at the behaviors of the people around me differently, with more understanding and patience. For a while I wasn't angry. For a time I could love people and be patient with them in the way I had always wished I could. But only for a time.

The problem I found, at least with the particular program I was using, was that it eventually became clear to me that many of the ways it was telling me to look at things were simply not true. For instance, one of the tricks was to alter the way you think of another person's behavior by reminding yourself that they are doing the best they can - just like you are. There was a lot of mental energy expended in making excuses for other people's bad behavior. It worked well for a while, but eventually the evidence piled up and I just couldn't buy it any more. In truth there was a lot of truly unkind, unloving, and insensitive behavior going on around me for which there was no good excuse, and for which no apologies were ever made. The truth was, nobody was trying their best, and, so far as I saw it at the time, I was the only one trying at all. I lost faith in the program, because, though it was well-meaning and based on some premises I still believe to be solid, once I became aware that I was telling myself lies, I could no longer believe them. Bitterness began to set in and the hopelessness settled into despair. Therapy failed.

Only the pills remained. I had a new doctor by this time, and he switched me to a new pill - Effexor. It would be some years before I would learn the hard way that this is a drug from which some can never turn back:

"For many people Effexor XR has the absolute worst discontinuation syndrome of an antidepressant. Effexor (venlafaxine hydrochloride) is a medication people utterly loathe to have taken. It is not uncommon for someone to fire doctors during or immediately after they quit taking Effexor XR(venlafaxine hydrochloride)." - Crazy Meds

Which is exactly what happened to me. I should never have been given a medication without being informed of the devastating side-effects of giving it up, or that missing just one or two doses (like when you forget to call your refill in before the weekend) is enough to trigger the terrifying symptoms, or that giving it up in the manner recommended would require the doctor's willingness, cooperation, and assistance - and many months of misery. But I've gotten ahead of myself.

As I said, only the pills remained, and they were no cure. What they succeeded in doing was to rub the edges off my feelings, but this they did indiscriminately. For every hard, angry, dark, or despairing emotion they dulled, they also dulled a joyous or pleasurable one. My soul was quenched and life became little more than existence. I upped the ante of my behaviors in an effort to feel alive. My reading material became more sensational and graphic; my talk-radio became more shocking; my alcohol intake increased. I smoked like a chimney. These behaviors had become my life-line, but they were destroying me.

And this was the condition in which Christ found me, on the first morning of October, 2004, the day I suffered a devastating personal loss. Sitting in my smoking chair in the back yard alone, desperate for an ally, I bowed my head to pray to God. Eyes closed, I saw an image of a human heart, blackened, rotting and crawling with maggots. It was my heart, and this is what sin had done to it. My life flashed before my eyes and I realized that all the while I had been blaming God for the pain in my life, He had been caring for me, even answering my prayers. The pain in my life, I realized, was not a result of His vengeance. Some of it was the fault of others, but much of it was a result of my own sin. All of a sudden I knew it: God is good and He loves me. I began to seek Him, hoping for a new heart in exchange for the rotted one, and a new life. In a few months my faith and hope in Him would lead me to tackle my depression head-on.

In my next post I will write about that experience seven years ago, and the ongoing fight to maintain my hold on the peace, hope, and joy I have found in Christ.

(You may read Part Two of this series here.)

Why Do You Call Him Lord?

2011-12-28T23:18:00.000-08:00

This morning I awoke without the usual midweek pressure of needing to get up and get ready for work. Remembering that I had the day off, I was able to relax and sink into my prayers with a more leisurely attitude. I thought, "I should ask the Lord what to do with this rare, unstructured day," or words to that effect. And so I began, "Lord, how would You have me use this day?"

The first word of my prayer echoed in my head. "Lord....lord". What an odd word. In this "land of the free and home of the brave" there are no lords. We are a nation born of rebellion - spawned by the rejection of outside authority. We, The People, have the authority. We are created equal, and so doff our hats to no man. Do we even know what we are saying when we address Christ as "Lord"? What do I mean?

This is a challenging thought and one which Christ Himself implores me to consider: “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you?" His implication is clear - if I call Him "Lord" and yet do not obey His words I am a hypocrite, fooling myself that I am actually His disciple. In the parable that follows He paints the picture of a man building his house on a foundation of sand, a house doomed to destruction. The apostle James echoes the words of Christ:

"But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing." James 1:22-25

So often, I've read the words of Christ as good suggestions. I've chosen the ones that suit me and left others aside for possible review at a more convenient time, or worse, I've listened and enjoyed them all then closed my Bible and gone about my day in the usual way - unchanged - thinking to myself that the act of reading the Scripture will bring about my transformation - as if by magic. But this is not what Jesus taught.

"Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built." Luke 6:47-48 (emphasis mine)

As the old Sunday school song taught us, "The wise man builds his house upon the rock!" The wise man understands authority, and, believing the Scriptures which proclaim Christ to be "Lord of lords", pays close attention and does what He tells him to do. Certainly Christ is the "rock of our salvation", the foundation of our faith, but the only way to build a life on that rock is through a faith so alert, that it seeks to obey His every word. This is the foundation of the Christian life.

No other foundation will support it.

"And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says “I know him” but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, but whoever keeps his word, in him truly the love of God is perfected. By this we may know that we are in him: whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked." 1 John 2: 3-6

It does not matter how loudly we proclaim our faith, how much we know about the Bible, or how high and fine our doctrinal statements are if we are not doing the words of Christ and His apostles. It matters little how much we know about Jesus and His teachings, or how much time we spend reading the Scriptures if we are not living as they tell us to. I've heard it said that the devil doesn't mind what we do so long as He can keep us from the Scriptures. I agree, to a point, but want to take it a step farther: the devil doesn't mind us hearing the word of God nearly so much as he does us obeying it.

Americanism says that we are the masters of our own destiny. We can pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps, stand on our own feet, and accomplish whatever we dream. We, for the most part, so long as we are not caught breaking any laws (laws, by the way, which we play a role in enacting or repealing), answer to no one. We have rights on which no one has the right to tread. We have employers (hopefully), but no masters. We have advisers, but no commanders. Our lives are rich with options, opportunities, and every freedom necessary to pursue them. Beyond death and taxes, we have few mandates...and we resent even those. By and large we are free to say and do as we please, answering to no one.

I was born an American. I was re-born a Christian, a citizen of an entirely different kind of country, with an entirely different form of government. The words of Christ call on me constantly to decide between Americanism and Christianity - between independence and submission to the authority of Christ. I am not the supreme authority in my life; I have a Lord to whom I am accountable. If this Christian life of mine is not built on obedience to His authority, it is no better than a house of cards.

2011 has, for me, turned into a year spent inspecting my foundation and rebuilding my spiritual house, of learning what it means to have a Lord -someone whose will is my command, whose words are not empty, who I am accountable to for all I think and do. It has been a time of making His priorities mine, and His kingdom my own. I suppose I could call it The Year of Taking Christ Seriously. May God grant that this New Year, and every year to follow be even more worthy of that title.

"Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it." Mt. 7:24-27

I forgave you a long time ago...

2011-11-28T21:00:00.000-08:00

"I forgave you a long time ago..."

I pray that I never forget those words as long as I live. They were a gift spoken by a friend I had hurt, unintentionally, by my words many months before. It had taken me some time to recognize the offense I had caused, some more time to accept that she had a reason to feel offended, some more time to stop building arguments in my defense, and some more time still before love won out and I worked up the courage to seek forgiveness. I dreaded her rejection. I feared this treasured relationship would be lost forever.

But instead of the rejection I feared, she gave me this gift. She not only forgave me, she loved me, and continued on as though the whole episode was barely worth mention, nothing but a little bump on the road to the continued sweet fellowship and mutual encouragement we had always shared. There are many things I may before have considered to be marks of true godliness, but I none can hold a candle to this:

"I forgave you a long time ago..."

The fear of being unforgiven looms large in my life. It is at the root of all the depression and fear I've ever experienced. I've lived much of my life in the sometimes-paralyzing dread that I will offend, and with the ultimate dread that I won't be forgiven when I do. Experience has given me good reason for this fear. I never set out to be offensive. On the contrary, I try my best to be kind. But no matter how hard I try to do right by my friends, I still manage to sin against them and cause them pain. I've proven myself very good at offending, and though at times I've pleaded with tears, have had forgiveness withheld and relationships lost.

As a result, over the decades I developed ways of coping with this fear - ungodly ways. One of the first instincts of my mind is to get busy building a case against the one who feels offended, and a case in defense of myself. It is easy to make excuses for myself - I'm naturally inclined to be on my side. It is easy to blame my friend for taking offense when none was intended. It is always easy to divert blame, because we are all sinners. Since that ancient day when mankind fell, there has been as much blame to go around as there has been sin. As a fallen woman I've certainly spread my share of both sin and blame, but I've found that none of my blame-shifting can keep me from shuddering when I am reminded of the words of Christ:

"...if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." Mt. 6:14-15

God's rejection is the deepest of all my fears; His forgiveness is my deepest need. My heart's greatest desire and hope for joy is to be loved and accepted by Him. This gets to the heart of why I finally became a Christian, and now that I am, I find in myself this impossible yearning to be like Christ, to be loved by Him and to love like He does. But I also find that this soft and still-growing heart He has given me is at loggerheads with the survival instincts of my old, cold, defensive, hardhearted, and unforgiving self.

As I take this struggle to prayer, His Holy Spirit reminds me of the words of Scripture:

"For You, Lord, are good, and ready to forgive,
And abundant in lovingkindness to all who call upon You." Ps. 86:5

"Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." Eph. 4:32

"I forgave you a long time ago..."

God forgave me in Christ long, long ago....long before I had ever sinned...long before I even considered repenting...long before I was even born. God's forgiveness is in Christ ready and waiting for me.

"...as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive." Col. 3:13b

And just how has the Lord forgiven me? I sinned against Him in countless ways. He absorbed my many offenses along with all the hurt and insult of them - the ones I've repented of, and all the rest: the ones I don't even remember, or recognize, or realize I've committed - and carried them to the cross, where they died with Him. All this He did to open the door of reconciliation with God, and there He stands waiting, even calling to me to come to Him...

"I forgave you a long time ago..."

So much like Christ, my friend had forgiveness ready and waiting for me when I came looking for it! In bold living strokes she painted for me a portrait of God's love, more powerful than sin, tenderly welcoming the sinner who comes sorrowfully to Him. My friend gave me love; she gave me forgiveness; she gave me hope, she gave me the Gospel.

She held open for me the door of reconciliation. No realization has ever has such a profound effect on me. God wants us to forgive others as He forgives us. Only when we do, can we truly get at the heart of what it means, really means, to be a Christian.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." 2 Cor. 5:17-21

God is not counting our trespasses against us! He is holding open the door for reconciliation, and He is calling us to do the same. This is the person God is calling me to be. This is God's will for my life. By His grace I want nothing more than for now and evermore to be ready and eager to forgive, to admit when I've offended and be quick to apologize; to build no more cases and no more defenses; to rehearse no more wrongs and to hold no more grudges; to let nothing in my heart stand in the way of forgiveness; to put no stumbling block in the way of God's grace; to allow no root of bitterness to spring up; to forgive in advance those who cannot or will not forgive me; to be ready for relationship if ever they are; and to always share and never, ever, lose the freedom, joy, and peace with God that the gift of forgiveness has given me.

May I always be ready to say from the depth of my heart, "I forgave you a long time ago."

A Song of Thanksgiving

2011-11-23T23:55:00.001-08:00

Enter his gates with thanksgiving,
and his courts with praise!
Give thanks to him; bless his name!

For the LORD is good;
his steadfast love endures forever,
and his faithfulness to all generations.

Ps. 100:4-5

Melancholy, my friend

2011-11-17T22:22:00.001-08:00

I don't think I will or should ever like it, but I'm learning to be thankful for my depressions. It is for me as C.S. Lewis so famously put it in The Problem of Pain, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

When I look back I see many times during my years as a Christian when a deep depression has led to a renewal of faith in my heart. Jesus Christ is the source of whatever peace and joy I am capable of, so when I drift away from Him these begin to slip away, along with my hope for the future. I slip into despair. The pain grows louder. Eventually none of my usual distractions can drown it out, and in desperation I remember Christ and cry to Him for rescue.

Through my sorrow He gently guides me back to His word and His promises, and through them (along with much prayer) renews my faith and restores my hope in His goodness and my future with Him. I'm so thankful to Him that He won't let me wander happily away. I'm learning and praying to be sensitive to the first wispy dark clouds, to recognize that trouble is brewing, and instead of looking for various ways to take the edge off the pain to run quickly to Him for solace. He is the only help that is genuine, the only help that gets to the heart of the problem, the only comfort that is strong enough, and the only hope that is eternal.

Before I was afflicted I went astray,
but now I keep your word.

You are good and do good;

teach me your statutes.

It is good for me that I was afflicted,
that I might learn your statutes.

The law of your mouth is better to me
than thousands of gold and silver pieces.

Psalm 119: 67-68,71-72

I never thought, or really ever wanted, to echo David's words, "It is good for me that I was afflicted." But today those were the very words I found pouring out of my heart. I'm thankful that God uses my afflictions for my good and that, in Christ, even melancholy has purpose. My new hope and prayer is that I will learn once and for all to keep clinging to Him even when I begin to feel better, to remember I'm still in desperate need even when I feel just fine, to never stop looking to Him as my source of life, joy, peace, hope, purpose, and blessing.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
    whose trust is the LORD.
He is like a tree planted by water,
   that sends out its roots by the stream,
and does not fear when heat comes,
   for its leaves remain green,
and is not anxious in the year of drought,
   for it does not cease to bear fruit."

Jeremiah 17:7-8

Translation Tidbits

2011-11-14T18:41:00.001-08:00

This Saturday past I posted a little article about translating hymns, so imagine my surprise at lunchtime today when NPR's Talk of the Nation aired an interview with the author of Is That a Fish in Your Ear? Translation and the Meaning of Everything. A fascinating discussion! I bet you can guess what just got added to my Christmas wish list. If you're curious, you can listen to the segment or read a transcript here.

Also related to my last post, a friend of mine informed me in the comments that Bach had composed a cantata of Ein Feste Burg ist unser Gott (A Mighty Fortress is Our God/Our God He Is a Castle Strong). I went straight to find a recording of it. I thought this one was very lovely:

Finally, I thought you might enjoy hearing Ein Feste Burg sung in German. I certainly did!

Our God He Is a Castle Strong: on translations of hymns, among other things

2011-11-12T21:55:00.000-08:00

"Our God He Is a Castle Strong"

Our God he is a castle strong,

A good mail-coat and weapon;

He sets us free from ev'ry wrong

That wickedness would heap on.

The old knavish foe
He means earnest now;

force and cunning sly
His horrid policy,

On earth there's nothing like him.*

Perhaps you recognized this first stanza from a very famous hymn. Or perhaps, like me, you didn't. I happened upon it one evening as I was searching through our copy of Luther's Works: Liturgy and Hymns checking to see if a certain hymn I like happened to have been written by Martin Luther. It did not, but while I had the book open I noticed that it provided commentary on each of the hymns. Excited, I decided to look up my Lutheran favorite: A Mighty Fortress is Our God. It was nowhere to be found. I knew that was impossible, so I kept looking until the light-bulb came on.... A "mighty fortress".... a "castle strong"...

A mighty fortress is our God,

a bulwark never failing;

our helper he amid the flood

of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe
doth seek to work us woe;

his craft and power are great,
and armed with cruel hate,

on earth is not his equal.

Comparing all the verses carefully, it gradually became clear that I was indeed looking at the same song. And so I became very curious as to why a modern (1965) collection of Luther's works and hymns would have selected such an obscure and, well, clunky translation. So I began to investigate.

The popular translation, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, I learned, was rendered by the Unitarian minister, Transcendentalist, and teacher of German literature, Frederick Hedge. As happens, though, all of the hymns in my volume were translated by a near contemporary of Hedge's, George MacDonald (yes that George MacDonald). Thankfully, the collection's editor, Ulrich S. Leupold, explained his choice:

"Unfortunately little of the original ruggedness of Luther's poetic style survived in the translations of his hymns that have found their way into modern English and American hymnals. With the mighty resurgence of English hymnody during the nineteenth century, many poets tried their hand at rendering Luther's verse into English. But most of them took considerable liberties with the originals. Frequently they changed irregular verse forms into more accepted meters. Usually they aimed at a more polished and elegant style than was really justified in view of Luther's angularity. They tried to make him speak in the mellifluent accents of a Victorian churchman, with the result that both the literal sense and the original style often were lost.

"...In this edition faithfulness to the original wording, style, and meter seemed more important than a completely idiomatic English rendition. Perhaps the most felicitous attempt to translate Luther's hymns without loss of their original ruggedness was made by the Scottish theologian and writer George MacDonald (1824-1905). MacDonald's translation, used in this edition, has been completely passed by in common use, presumably because he consciously, and often successfully, tried to express Luther's robust lines in an English idiom of similar character. Obviously he took for a pattern the older English verse. He sought to preserve the vivid metaphors, metrical irregularity, and folk-song quality of Luther's hymns. He imitated Luther's preference for monosyllables by using mostly Anglo-Saxon words. Due to the prevalence of feminine rimes in German poetry and their scarcity in English with its lack of suffixes, many hymn translations from the German suffer from a tedious repetition of rimes on "-ation." such as creation, salvation, foundation, and justification. These words tend to make the English style more academic and pompous than the German. MacDonald almost completely avoided them." **

Additionally, referring specifically to Our God He Is a Castle Strong, Leupold adds:

"He did not write it to express his own feelings, but to interpret and apply the 46th Psalm to the church of his own time and its struggles...."

Suddenly I found I'd gained profound respect for that clunky rendition! Now I read it fondly, and yet, truth be told, I don't think I would like singing it. Which led me to begin puzzling, "What are the characteristics of good translation?" After much consideration, I'll say, "It depends on what you mean by "good".

In undertaking the translation of a document, whether it be a hymn, a work of literature, or even the Scriptures, any serious translator begins with a set of principles by which he or she operates, and a set of priorities and goals for what he or she is hoping to accomplish. In short - a philosophy. Whether this philosophy is carefully delineated, or merely intuited, it is there like a conscience, guiding decisions, providing a sense of direction. It, along with the skill of the translator, determines the nature of the finished product, not only whether it is "good" or "bad" but how those terms are defined. It will also dictate what, as is almost inevitable, will get lost in translation.

A Mighty Fortress is Our God, our case in point, is considered an excellant translation according to one philosophy, and yet is found lacking by another. One standard values its poetic beauty, rich language, and melodic flow. Another appreciates these qualities and is yet disappointed that some of Luther's original attitude, style, simplicity, and scriptural parallels were sacrificed on the altar of euphoniousness. The fact that we find A Mighty Fortress is our God and not Our God He Is a Castle Strong in most of today's hymnals testifies to a certain set of values which prevail in modern hymnody. This is not, I would argue, a necessarily bad thing. Hymns, after all, are meant to be sung. It would be a greater loss, in my opinion, to produce an awkward translation - one that is difficult to sing or understand - and see it lost to history or fade into obscurity simply because nobody liked to sing it, than to produce a lovely one but without a bit of its original oomph.

I think MacDonald's translation stands beautifully as poetry, and provides a priceless glimpse into the heart and soul of Luther - that rough-hewn tool forged by God to hammer a message of reform into the doors of the medieval church. In this sense I and the editor of Luther's Works, Vol. 53, wholeheartedly affirm it is a good translation. I am glad it exists and delighted that I own a copy of it.

A good translation, I think most would agree, captures not only words but feeling. If the original is gentle, or harsh, or graceful, or boisterous, that should not be lost. If it is clumsy but full of heart, then it would be best to preserve that special charm. If it is intended to be educational factual, specific, and precise, then it is best rendered so. Imagery, allegory, and metaphor should be clung to for dear life.

So then, translation is both a skill and an art, which is guided by a philosophy which may differ from person to person based upon a number of factors, one of which is the nature of the work being translated. A hymn, we've seen, may be translated in different ways based upon various priorities, and the same is true for just about any other written work. It is true for literature, which can be rendered sublime or soporific by translation. Perhaps most significantly, it is true of the Holy Bible. One might think the belief that the scriptures are the inspired Word of God would simplify matters, but in fact it only complicates them, as the hundreds of translations and versions currently available in English will testify.

The background and goals of the translator are also considerations. Leupold, for instance, compiled his edition with an eye toward students of the works of Luther whose limited abilities in German and/or Latin would prevent them from reading his work in the languages in which they were written. Since his focus was on Luther, the man and his message, it makes perfect sense that selected the MacDonald translations. The editors of the Trinity Hymnal, on the other hand, were looking to edify the church at large. In order to accomplish this, the hymns they chose had to be not only meaningful, but embraced. Similarly a translator cannot help but be influenced by his or her own intellectual or spiritual biases, goals, natural tendencies, areas of expertise or enjoyment, etc. Whether a translator is a musician, a historian, a poet, a theologian, or a linguist, his translations will undoubtedly be colored by the strokes of his particular art.

So my word of encouragement for today is to take notice of translations. Remember that for most foreign works there are more than one. Surround yourself with them when you can. Compare them. Appreciate them as art and critique them as well. When you find a work difficult, there is hope. Look for another translation! Learn about the translators of your favorite editions, and your least favorite ones as well. Discern their motivations, passions, and philosophies. Occasionally this may illuminate some unexpected motivation. Certainly it will enrich your understanding and appreciation of their work.

* For the piqued curiosity I've included the full text of MacDonald's translation below:

"Our God He Is a Castle Strong"

Our God he is a castle strong,

A good mail-coat and weapon;

He sets us free from ev'ry wrong

That wickedness would heap on.

The old knavish foe
He means earnest now;

force and cunning sly
His horrid policy,

On earth there's nothing like him.

Tis all in vain, do what we can,

Our strength is soon dejected.

but He fights for us, the right man,

By God himself elected.

Ask'st thou who is this?

Jesus Christ it is,

Lord of Hosts alone,

And God but him is none,

So he must win the battle.

And did the world with devils swarm,

All gaping to devour us,

We fear not the smallest harm,

Success is yet before us.

This world's prince accurst,

Let him rage his worst,

No hurt brings about;

His doom it is gone out,

One word can overturn him.

The word they shall allow to stand,

Nor any thanks have for it;

He is with us, at our right hand,

With the gifts of his spirit.

If they take our life,

Wealth, name, child and wife -

Let everything go:

They have no profit so;

The kingdom ours remaineth.

** Leupold explains at greater length:

"To the modern ear Luther's verses sound awkward, if not uncouth. They lack the rich emotional overtones, the mellow flow of words, and the metric regularity that we commonly associate with poetry. Some of them sound more like prose than poetry....The hymns of the nineteenth century that form the bulk of today's hymnals were written according to the artistic canons of Romanticism. They use beautifully polished phrases and dance or march rhythms to create a certain mood and to give an ornate expression to personal religious feelings. But Luther's hymns were meant not to create a mood, but to convey a message. They were a confession of faith, not of personal feelings. That is why, in the manner of folk songs, they present their subject vividly and dramatically, but without the benefit of ornate language and other poetic refinements. They were written not to be read but to be sung by a whole congregation....
"The language and vocabulary are therefore simple and direct. Like the ancient Hebrew poets he knew so well, Luther used few adjectives and formed brief pungent lines consisting almost exclusively of verbs and nouns. Most of the words are monosyllables. The thought is condensed and concentrated. Frequently every line forms a sentence of its own....A crowd sings a verse at a time, and so each verse must make sense as a unit.
"Again, our modern hymns are iambic, trochaic, or dactylic, i.e., they observe a regular succession of metrical feet. The rhythmic structure, i.e., the succession of accented and unaccented syllables, is the same from stanza to stanza and often from verse to verse....But this tramping or tripping of metrical feet was foreign to Luther and was not in fact made a law of poetry until one hundred years later....Luther counted syllables, but the accents vary from line to line....Instead of fitting sentences into the rigid mold of metrical feet, Luther was able to stress certain words irrespective of the tyranny of 'light' and 'heavy' accents....Also in the matter of rime, Luther's hymns are much freer than those of later centuries. Often there is more of an assonance than a proper rime. On the other hand, there are many alliterations."

On Singing Hymns

2011-11-05T21:57:00.000-07:00

"Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God." Col. 3:16

"And do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, but be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart..." Eph. 5:18,19

Have you ever noticed the parallel between these separate passages from two of Paul's letters? Years ago a favorite pastor called it to my attention when I asked what being filled with the Holy Spirit meant, or looked like. He showed me the connection between the statements, "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly..." and "...be filled with the Spirit..." Aha! Paul equates being filled with the Spirit with letting "the word of Christ dwell in you richly". This is helpful!

More recently my current pastor followed the parallels a bit further. In the Ephesians passage Paul begins by explicitly commanding the church to abandon drunkenness and to instead be filled with the Spirit. (His use of the imperative tells me that this "being filled" is something we can determine to do, that being filled with the Spirit is an intensely practical matter and not merely a passive experience.) He goes on immediately to tell us how to do it: through speaking and singing. To be filled with the Holy Spirit is to be full of the word of Christ, which comes to us through teaching and admonishment, which come through both the spoken word and music.

There are a couple of the clear implications here. The first is that the indwelling of the Spirit of God is not merely an individual matter; it is a corporate one. The second is that the music we are to sing with and to one another is to be full of God's Word and wisdom. It's purpose is to teach and admonish us - to fill us with sound doctrine. God intends for music to play a key role in both the education and corporate life of His people. Music, it would seem, is essential to the building up of God's church.

This is why the greatest and most timeless hymns are full of teaching. Much like sermons, hymns are often meditations based directly upon a particular passage of Scripture, and sometimes upon the applications of key teachings of Scriptures to our lives. This makes a hymn a unique gift to the church. It is sermon put to music, but in a way it is better than a sermon. How many sermons, after all, do you know by heart? How many can you fall asleep singing and wake up humming? Songs have a way of burrowing permanently into our souls. What better way to embed the Word of Christ into our hearts?

For this reason, I believe the church should be fighting to maintain and build upon her ancient tradition of hymnody. The hymns that have stood the test of history tend to be those that fill exactly this purpose. They teach us, they admonish us, they fill our hearts and minds with wisdom from God and with thanksgiving for Him. With them we worship Him with our lips. With them we strengthen His body, the church, educating her, warning her, encouraging her. All of this glorifies Him. God is not only glorified by sounds coming from our lips. He is glorified in the true strength and beauty of His church as His Spirit indwells her.

These past several decades, the church in America seems to have lost much of her interest in hymnody. Following the musical tastes and popular music of the day she has focused nearly exclusively on what I would characterize as "spiritual songs". While such music also plays a vital role in the church, it should never do so to the exclusion of psalms and hymns. I have two big hopes: one is that the musicians of this and upcoming generations of the church will embrace the church's greatest historical hymns, perhaps creating new and innovative arrangements for some of them; the other is that new hymns will be written - hymns that will continue to build a foundation of faith, that will fill the church with wisdom and the word of Christ so that she may filled with the Holy Spirit of God.

"Oh sing to the LORD a new song,
for he has done marvelous things!
His right hand and his holy arm
have worked salvation for him." Ps. 98:1

I'm not a musician, but overwhelmed in contemplating the great doctrine known as the hypostatic union, even I was once moved to attempt words for a hymn. Perhaps one of you, one more talented than I, will consider doing the same.

So let me leave you with a beautiful modern rendition of one of my favorite hymns. It is over two hundred years old and rich with scriptural truth - a meditation on the faithfulness of God to uphold His people through the most difficult times. It is everything a Christian hymn should be, full of reminders of the character of God and the strength He is and gives to all who hope in Him.

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,

Is laid for your faith in His excellent word!

What more can He say than to you He hath said—

To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?

“Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed,

For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid;

I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,

Upheld by My gracious, omnipotent hand.

“When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;

For I will be with thee thy trouble to bless,

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

“When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,

My grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy supply;

The flame shall not harm thee; I only design

Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

“The soul that on Jesus doth lean for repose,

I will not, I will not, desert to his foes;

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,

I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.”

On Singing Hymns, among other things

2011-10-26T23:20:00.000-07:00

"Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God." Col. 3:16

My recent discussion of the singing of Psalms in church prompted an unexpected and lively internet discussion with some friends from all over the globe as to the distinctions between the three types of singing mentioned in Paul's words to the Colossian and Ephesian churches. The initial concern seemed to be that I was implying that only the Psalms should be sung in churches, a notion which had honestly never occurred to me. I began this little mini-series with the intention of addressing the categories as I understood them, and as I believe they are most commonly understood. It hadn't really occurred to me that my view of them was so insular. How typically American of me. Having been made aware of just how much room there is for misunderstanding, I decided to examine the matter a little further before I commenced my gushing over the value of hymnody.

My sampling of sources mainly agreed that "psalms" here refers to the Old Testament Psalms. There are a few, however, who believe that these three "are all different descriptions of the Psalms, and that the Word of God in these passages requires the singing of Psalms and only the Psalms in worship. These passages, then, teach what is sometimes called “exclusive Psalmody” — Psalms only in worship."

According to Vine's Dictionary, "Hymn" refers to "A song of praise addressed to God" and 'spiritual songs' refers to "songs of which the burden is the things revealed by the Spirit" .

John MacArthur states in his Study Bible notes* that 'psalms' refers to "Old Testament psalms put to music, primarily, but the term was used also of vocal music in general....hymns. Perhaps songs of praise distinguished from the Psalms which exalted God, in that they focused on the Lord Jesus Christ. spiritual songs. Probably songs of personal testimony expressing truths of the grace of salvation in Christ."

The venerable Matthew Henry, in his Commentary on Eph. 5:19, doesn't bother with distinctions at all but focuses instead on the proper place of music among believers: "Drunkards are wont to sing obscene and profane songs. The joy of Christians should express itself in songs of praise to their God. In these they should speak to themselves in their assemblies. Though Christianity is an enemy to profane mirth, yet it encourages joy and gladness. God's people have reason to rejoice, and to sing for joy."

My own pastor emphasizes that the Psalms were the musical heritage of the Jews. "Hymns", on the other hand, was the word the pagan Gentiles preferred for the music of their worship (and is presumably how the Greek for this word would have been understood by the church at Colossae). The sub-point being that the corporate worship of the church was to include the musical traditions of both Jew and Gentile believer. (The "hymns" of course would no longer be directed to pagan deities but to God, similarly to how Luther and others are said to have put their own Christian lyrics to the popular tunes of their times.) This inclusiveness of styles, would aid in including and unifying the two diverse groups of believers into one, and in building up all, since all had something unique to offer the body.

So, I learned, there is a certain amount of disagreement as to how the three categories should be defined, and a certain amount of overlap. It seems clear that our common distinctions between hymns and spiritual songs don't exactly correlate with the Biblical distinctions. Many of what we call hymns, for example, since not addressing God directly, might fall under the category of spiritual song. Be that as it may, each kind is useful, and each kind encouraged for use in the church. What seems most clear to me, however, is that Paul's intent in writing to the Colossians was not to categorize, or to limit the type of songs being sung in the church setting so much as to encourage believers to sing with thankful hearts, to God and to each other, and to use all the kinds of God-glorifying music available to them or that comes to them, music so rich with biblical meaning that it will serve as a means of conveying Christ's word to those who sing and those who hear.

And on that note I feel comfortable in returning, for the sake of the rest of my little series, to the somewhat loose and overlapping but commonly understood distinctions with which I began: Psalms = the Old Testament Psalms, hymns = songs commonly found in hymnbooks, and spiritual songs = all the rest, including gospel music, contemporary Christian music, worship choruses, etc.

image via stthomasaquinas.org

* from commentary on Ephesians 5:19, a parallel passage to Col. 3:16

On Singing Psalms

2011-10-22T21:41:00.000-07:00

This week I've been thinking about Psalms. Did you know the Psalms are actually songs? Of course you did. Everyone who's spent any time at all in Sunday School knows that. But have you ever really stopped to think about what that means? I've had that piece of information stored in my cranium for decades, but never really bothered to consider it much. I still tend to think of the Psalms as the poems that I was assigned to memorize when I was a kid, or as the words they taught us to sing along to chant tones in the Lutheran church of my childhood. Though they are lovely, when I read them I almost never think of them as music, and, since I'm not a very musical person, I've honestly never really thought it mattered one way or the other.

That changed this past Sunday. Our pastor began his sermon, the latest in a series on the church, with a discussion of Psalm 118. He explained that it was originally written as a festival song, most likely for the Festival of Booths, and it was sung responsively. The crowd gathered at the Temple to worship. The song-leader sang his part, and, from memory, the people sang their response. One of the points he was leading up to was that when verses from this (and other) Psalms are referred to in the New Testament, the Jewish audience would immediately recognize the allusion and make the connection to the Psalm it was quoted from along with its context.

So, for instance, when Jesus made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem riding on a donkey and the crowd burst into cheers, it was one of the response portions of Psalm 118 from which they drew their words of praise:

"Save us, we pray, O LORD!

O LORD, we pray, give us success!

Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD!

We bless you from the house of the LORD."

Ps. 118: 25-26

And again, when Jesus and the Apostles Peter and Paul made reference to "the cornerstone", they were alluding to another responsive portion of Psalm 118:

"The stone that the builders rejected

has become the cornerstone.

This is the LORD's doing;

it is marvelous in our eyes."

Ps. 118:22-23

The pastor's point was that the use of the word "cornerstone" or statements such as "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord" were a kind of shorthand that any Jews in the audience would immediately recognize. When they heard these words their thoughts went directly to the psalm they were drawn from. In other words, these were songs and the people knew the lyrics.

I hope you're able to follow me here. It was hours later and I was sitting in my kitchen discussing the sermon with my husband before it really sank in. Unlike us, these folks didn't have radios playing everywhere in the background. They had the Psalms. This was their music. The Psalms were the soundtrack of their lives and their history, the songs of their faith, the songs of their nation, the reminders of their greatest triumphs and their deepest sorrows. The Psalms were the vehicle that carried the promises of God and the record of His faithfulness from one generation to the next. It is likely that Psalm 118 was to them something like what "God Bless America" is to us - an anthem of God and country and hope. They knew the words; they knew the music; and their hearts swelled with emotion with every word. When someone began a line, they could finish it. When it was quoted, they knew exactly what was being alluding to and what was being implied.

Oh what a rich treasury the Psalms were to Israel! How blessed they were to have words inspired by God committed to memory in such a way, to have such a common musical and scriptural heritage to draw from. How precious it must have been to hear a word from the lips of Christ or his apostles and know immediately the ancient words of prophecy to which it referred! What a tragedy it is that I do not know these songs, that they aren't imbedded in my heart, filling my mind, and ready to spring from my lips! What a waste it is that the modern church has not taken hold of such a glorious tradition! A few people in recent years have set a few of the psalms to music again in lovely and memorable ways, but only so very few. How sad it is that our English translations lend themselves so poorly to song, and that we American Christians are so little committed to finding ways to sing them. I hope and pray this will change.

"Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God." Col. 3:16

The Idea of You

2011-10-17T21:49:00.000-07:00

You,

or the Idea of You
by Laurie Mathers

Just a minute,

I'm reading about You

Wait a second,

I'm talking about You

Hold on,

I'm writing about You

Be right there,

I'm debating about You

Maybe tomorrow

I'll have time for you

You're so important to me.

Oh how I love You!

A Confession for Today

2011-09-28T22:49:00.000-07:00

A Confession for Today
by Laurie Mathers

Today I want to confess

I'm terrified,

Not of anything specific. Mainly it's just general,

But really it's not so general. Mainly it's just people.

Today I want to confess

I'm terrified of people.

Not any people in particular. Just people in general.

But really it's not so general. Mainly it's just me.

Today I want to confess

I'm terrified of Me.

Not for anything specific. Just me in general.

But really it's not so general. Mainly it's my judgments.

Today I want to confess

I'm terrified of my judgments.

Not any specific judgments. Just my judgments in general.

But really it's not so general. Mainly it's the judgments I make of others.

Today I want to confess

I'm terrified of the judgments I've made of others.

Not any specific judgments of others. Just my judgments of others in general.

But really it's not so general. Mainly it's that I judge others when I am guilty too.

Today I want to confess

I'm terrified of being guilty.

Not any specific guilt. Just guilty in general.

But really it's not so general. Mainly it's my guilt in judging you.

Today I want to confess

I'm terrified as I write this.

Not any specific terror. Just terror in general.

But really it's not so general. Mainly it's my terror that you'll judge me as I have you.

Today I want to confess
I've sinned against you.

Today I beg your forgiveness.

"Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven" Luke 6:37

You Want Us to Be Like North Korea?

2011-09-01T16:23:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy social media. Outside of the blog-o-sphere, my favorites are Facebook and Twitter. Facebook in particular has helped me connect, re-connect, and stay in touch with people, old friends and new, from all over the world. It has been a boon for me in many, many ways.

Social media also has its downsides, of course. When abused, it can be a real time and creativity waster. Some say it contributes to the disintegration of "real" relationships: more Facebook equals less "face time". I've seen it work both ways. I've seen it build relationships, and I've seen it tear them apart. But, then, these things have been happening throughout the ages. Facebook is just another medium for human hearts. Whatever lurks there, also lurks in Facebook, for better or for worse.

For better, there are friendships - kind, respectful words of support, encouragement, love and hope. For worse, there is election season.

My friends have likely noticed that though I am quite interested in politics, I avoid political topics, both here and on Facebook. I have many reasons for that which I won't go into now, but I feel the need to warn you, I am about to tread right up to the edge of a political cliff. I ask you to stay with me. I assure you I have no intention of stepping over the edge.

Anyone who's spent any time on Facebook knows that a lot of people like to copy ideas they agree with and/or think are clever from their friends' walls and paste them to their own. Some people even create little "memes" specifically hoping that others will pick up on them and that they will spread like viruses. This sort of activity seems to step up during an election season. For a number of reasons, I usually choose to overlook these memes, but when such an update manages to find its way not onlyinto my stream but my husband's as well, from entirely unrelated individuals, and manages to get under both his skin and mine sending us into fits of discussion, I find I don't want to let it pass unaddressed. So, here is the meme that we found so disturbing:

"Interesting... If you cross the North Korean border illegally, you get 12 yrs. hard labor. If you cross the Afghanistan border illegally, you get shot. Two Americans just got eight years for crossing the Iranian border. If you cross the U. S. border illegally you get a job, a drivers license, food stamps, a place to live, health care, housing; child benefits, education, a tax free business for 7 yrs...No wonder we are a country in debt."

First let me state that I'm not going to attempt to validate or dispute the truthfulness of the claims being made here. I can only hope that anyone who reads it would research each of its assertions before even considering re-posting it. Secondly, I understand the intended point is that illegal immigration to America is the reason for our national debt. I will not state whether I agree or disagree with that notion in whole or in part. What I will say is that this meme is making the rounds and getting plenty of "Like" action. This means plenty of people I am acquainted with, have given their stamp of approval to what this paragraph says.

What concerns me about this meme isn't so much that people think our immigration system is broken and needs some work, or that they think it is contributing to our financial crisis. Many reasonable Americans from various political persuasions would agree. What troubles me, first, is the lack of careful thinking that permits people who are trying to make this point to resort to and/or fall for the dreadful logic and argumentation used to make it, and second, that professing Christians are going along with it.

This is America, a representative democracy founded upon a belief in basic human equality, rights, and freedoms. Everyone, so far as I can tell, who is re-posting this meme loves this country, and yet is inexplicably willing to set up North Korea (a totalitarian Stalinist dictatorship), Afghanistan (a war-torn Islamic republic), and Iran (a theocratic Islamic republic), as positive examples of how we should be dealing with illegal immigrants. If I wasn't perfectly aware that this meme is meant to oppose our current immigration policies, then I would think this would be a fine argument in favor of them. I mean who on earth aspires to be like these countries with their authoritarian regimes, their draconian policies, and their notorious abuses of human rights? These are places people flee to America from, if they can manage to get away. These are not places people seek to emigrate to.

Truthfully, if it weren't for the last sentence of the meme, I think it reads like a statement of what a great nation America is for how well it treats those who come here looking for a better life.

Again, following the logic of the argument, it seems to imply that economies of these nations are something for America to aspire to. Perhaps that's true, if your goal is to have a nation so depressed economically that no one would have any reason to go there. (Recessions do have the effect of curbing new illegal immigration to America, by the way, but I'm not sure that the trade-off is quite worth it.) However, I'm quite certain that is not the intended meaning, and so the argument argues against itself. These are not countries known for their prosperity. If there is a direct relationship between a nation's treatment of illegal immigrants and its financial well-being, which is what this meme is attempting to claim, then if we are hoping to be prosperous, we should do the exact opposite of what North Korea*, Afghanistan, and Iran are doing.

When I read this meme I'm left wondering what exactly it is that those who post it are finding admirable about these countries. Since I know it can't be their dynamic economies, I'm left with only one thing: their harsh treatment of their fellowman. As a Christian, and as a citizen of a nation founded by immigrants and rooted in the belief of human equality, I find this distressing. Whatever my views on immigration policy, this is hardly the attitude I wish to have or convey to others.

Let me conclude by stating that I do not believe that the people I know who've re-posted this really want to see immigrating families, illegal or not, gunned down, brutalized, or imprisoned. I think they really are just stressed, frustrated, and hoping for some simple answers to a very complex problem. What I am saying is simply this: If you are a person hoping to fix immigration in America, this kind argument does nothing but harm both your cause and your credibility. What I am asking is that you read the things you read very carefully and critically, that you check your facts, that you see to it that your arguments make sense and that they are saying what you really think they are saying, that you think, think, think before you post or re-post anything, and that you slow down and examine your heart when you find your emotions being manipulated into knee-jerk reactions by such flawed rhetoric.

*While we are on the subject of the economy of North Korea, I would like to provide a couple of really informative links. The first is an episode of the Planet Money podcast that was so fascinating that I listened to it twice, called "North Korea's Illegal Economy". The second is a blog called North Korean Economy Watch.

Drawing Lines

2011-08-26T18:34:00.000-07:00

I came home from work the other day to a strange happening. The TV was on.

My daughter, home for the summer from her teaching job in the Republic of Georgia, was watching it. Adding to the strangeness of the TV being on in the middle of the afternoon, was the fact that it was tuned not to PBS, or a movie on DVD, but to a network television program. It took a minute of me standing dumbly for this to sink in. And then there was this: Tyra Banks who, as I recall, used to be a Victoria's Secret model, now has a talk show - like Oprah, except not. It has that sort of "Listen up girlfriend" tone, but without the mellowing that age and experience can bring. It only took about 20 minutes of second-hand exposure to get the strong impression that original talk show topics have become as rare as original Cosmo and Parents' Magazine topics.

Anyway, Tyra looks as gorgeous as ever and keeps a good chat going.

That day's topic was something like: "Extreme Fake-Beauty Practices (not including plastic surgery)". What I gleaned from it as I went about the house tidying up and only half-watching was that lots of people do lots of things related to their looks that their friends and/or family members think go too far. One guest appeared on stage to report that her sister had too many "weaves" and wigs - over 50 - and that she's let bills go unpaid at times so that she could spend the money on more hair. She'd even lost a job as some kind of driver because she spent all her time fussing with her hair in the mirror instead of looking at the road.

Another gal had a sister (or friend; I don't remember) who had fake nails that were really long. But what really got her goat was that this sister/friend also had fake toenails, also super long, which she thought looked "ghetto". They curved over the tips of her sandals.

Then there was a gal who stuffed her bra like crazy, and another whose mother wanted to confront her teenage daughter, on national television mind you, about how she wore too much make up.

If you've gotten this far, you're probably beginning to wonder what on earth I'm getting to. I know I am. I could go on about how TV has a lot of vapid programming, but I'm pretty sure no one reading this needs me to point that out. And, yes, I thought the topic for the show was a reach, but that wasn't really what bit me. Nor was it the creepy-long toenails, or the obsessive hair collector, or the dark, voyeuristic feel I got from the whole thing. What got to me was that the sister of the wig-lady showed up wearing a weave with fake bangs, and the mother of the make-up girl looked preternaturally young, and was heavily groomed and made up herself.

And there was Tyra. When Hair Collector made her appearance and reported on her wigs and all the extremes they have led her to in life, Tyra says words to the effect of, " I don't even have that many!" When Make-Up Daughter, who, by the way, is a very talented make-up artist, admits that it takes an hour and a half to two hours to do her make-up for the day, Tyra announces, "I don't even take that long to get ready for a runway show!" When, after her intervention (and apparently an off-camera bust-line makeover), Bra-Stuff gal is brought out wearing a normal, un-stuffed bra, Tyra goes on to point out how nicely the new flattering uplifting bra, v-neck shirt, and MAKE-UP enhancing the illusion of cleavage, looks even better than a stuffed bra. The implication being: my breast enhancement method is superior to and less silly than yours.

If it were satire it couldn't have been written better. The unintended ironies were glaring and the absurdities apparently unnoticed.

But, I'm not here to mock Tyra. I have no right, because I do the same thing. I don't do it on television, or even out loud - usually. But I do it in my head. Tyra's program merely led me to reflect on how decidedly blind I and my fellow humans can be to our own inconsistencies, and to the movable feast we make of our morality. The only difference between Tyra and the people being confronted for their extreme behaviors was a matter of degree. Tyra's line for others is drawn somewhere very near where Tyra draws it for herself. Behavior which crosses that line is behavior gone too far. The guests had their lines. The audience had theirs. I have mine. And the voice of my conscience whispers:

"Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things." (Rom. 2:1)

A pastor friend recently related a story about a Christian university that requires incoming students to swear in writing in no less than four places that they will not consume any alcoholic beverage in any form for the duration of their enrollment. This same document made no mention in any place about the use of tobacco. (At this point it would help to mention that this educational institution is located south of the Mason-Dixon Line - tobacco country.) Nor was there any mention of gluttony, which in Scripture tends to be paired with the sin of drunkenness. This school's policy, my friend remarked, is less a representation of Biblical values than it is a "cultural relic". It reflects the mores of a certain place and time - the moral line drawn in the sand by a particular society. The Scripture, on the one hand, does not forbid the use of alcohol for Christians. It draws the line at drunkenness, and gluttony. This school judges those who consume any alcoholic beverages at all as unfit for admittance, drawing a line where there should have been none. On the other hand it permits gluttony, erasing a line.

Here in the State of California (wine and granola country) it is far less acceptable to use tobacco than it is to drink beer or wine, and gluttony (as evidenced by obesity) is heavily frowned upon. That societal standard is echoed to some extent in the church. I know from experience that Christian colleges here are as likely to forbid smoking as drinking and that smokers and over-weight people are likely to be frowned upon in a way that a person who admits to moderate drinking is not.

And so, this line-drawing is something organizations and societies do as well as individuals. In my experience it is as common among Christians as it is among those of other faiths, and the irreligious. I think it would be fair to say that it is human nature. I see it as an action of that thing we call conscience, that internal judge which compares our, words, and deeds, and even our thoughts, with the law written on our hearts, and which seeks either to excuse or condemn us. Our hearts tell us some things are right and some wrong. When we are at our best we draw our lines as our conscience dictates and respect those lines. When society operates well, it draws its lines reasonably and people honor them. But sometimes we find that something so desirable stands on the other side of that line that we feel we must cross it. And when we do we must deal with that voice of conscience. We will shout down, or sweet-talk, or whatever it takes to get it's permission. We reason with it, explaining why it really isn't so bad. We negotiate with it, promising it'll be just this once. We tell ourselves we deserve that thing, remembering how hard we've worked and how good we've been. We look at what others are doing, explaining that it's normal and safe, or else point out how much worse others are, how far they've gone compared to what we're contemplating. Then we draw our new line. We feel better. We still have a line; it's a new one; it's out a bit farther than the old one, but not as far out as it could be. And this is where having others to compare ourselves to comes in so handy. As long as there are others "worse" than us, we can still feel okay about ourselves. Judging others serves us. It bumps us up a notch in our own esteem. We are okay. We're not like them. They've gone way past the line. Maybe we can even reach out and help them and feel even better about ourselves (maybe even on national television).

I believe that this drawing and re-drawing of lines to suit our own preferred moralities at any given place and time is what Christ is referring to when He says, "Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you." (Mt. 7:1-2) and when Paul says, "...you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things." (Rom.2:1) Every time we draw a line, for whoever, and for whatever reason (pride, fear, superiority, control, guilt), in the shifting sands of our hearts we become subject to it. And each time circumstances - good or bad - or temptations lead us to step over a line we've drawn our conscience is damaged. We can try to erase the old line and forget, but one new line drawn leads to another until the scars of them toughen leaving our hearts hard and bitter, our minds too dull to notice, and our recollection foggy as to how we got this way. And we become the joke Jesus told about a man with a log stuck in his eye offering to pull a speck out of his friend's eye,

So what are we to do? How can we prevent the amorphous hypocrisy of the moveable feast if we don't draw some lines, and how are we to know we've drawn the right lines in the right places? Anarchy, whether in a society or in an individual heart, is a great horror. We all know, deep down, that without some boundaries we'll run amock. So we instinctively put up our barriers, some trivial and some with the power of life an death. We draw our lines here and there, to keep our world, even in the tiniest ways from sinking further into the intolerable, into ever-longer toenails, into more and more make-up, into more and more alcohol consumption, into a tackier, uglier, meaner, more vulgar, violent, and uncertain world. We reach into our own hearts and look around us for help, for indicators as to where to draw the lines. There are a world of messages, all mixed. In one place we are told to "follow your heart", and in another that if you follow your heart you'll land yourself in a hospital or in jail, and in another that you'll answer to God's judgment.

Which brings me around to the Bible. As a Christian, I've been told all my life that the Bible is the place to go to learn from God how and where to draw your lines, and that if everyone would just learn God's laws and obey them we would have peace and blessing. In fact, it feels like lately I've been hearing more of this kind of talk than ever. "If only we could get America to enact and enforce God's laws He would bless us and we could get out of the mess we're in." (By "God's Law" folks usually have in mind some modified use of the Mosaic Law.) As a Christian, letting God draw the lines sounds at first like a good idea, but when I think it through I run into a huge problem. God's law is far more exacting and detailed than the law written on the average heart. Even the Apostle Paul admits that he would never have known coveting was a sin if the Mosaic Law had not told him. And then there are the Jews to consider. They were a nation which had God's Law, and consider what the Apostle Paul has to say about that:

"...Are we Jews any better off? No, not at all. For we have already charged that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under sin, as it is written:

'None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one. Their throat is an open grave; they use their tongues to deceive. The venom of asps is under their lips. their mouth is full of curses and bitterness. Their feet are swift to shed blood, in their paths are ruin and misery, and the way of peace they have not known. Their is no fear of God before their eyes.'

Now we know that whatever the law says it speaks to those who are under the law, so that ever mouth may be stopped, and the whole world may be held accountable to God. For by the works of the law no human being will be justified in his sight, since through the law comes knowledge of sin." (Rom. 3: 9-20 emphasis mine)

If no single human being can be found just in the eyes of God through the keeping of the law, then no nation can either. God's law was not given to keep people from facing God's judgment. On the contrary, the law, whether it be the Mosaic Law or the one written in our hearts serves to reveal our sin, and to hold us all accountable.

Sin is the great equalizer. We are each wretched in our own way. This is why there is no true hope or comfort to be found in judging others or measuring ourselves against them. But this need not be the bleak and hopeless observation it sounds like. Rather, it is the first baby-step toward true freedom and hope. We don't need to look to each other any more, either to judge or to compare. We don't need to labor any more to observe God's law in hopes of saving ourselves. Once we've reached this understanding, God's law has done it's work: it has pointed us to Christ.

"But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it - the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith." Rom. 3:21-25

We are all in the same boat. We are all sinners. None of us live our lives purely to the glory of God, in whose image we are created. Few of us really even try. I am not better because I don't have wigs, or don't stuff my bra, or don't grow long toenails. I'm really not. Those people whose behavior I find extreme are not worse sinners than I am (especially not when I'm sitting in judgment over them). I suspect that if Christ walked onto the set of Tyra's show, toenails would be the least of His concerns, and everyone else's. Christ doesn't look at outward appearances. Faced with the God who can look straight into our hearts and see all the lines we've crossed there, toenails fade in significance. Gazing into the face of Christ I, too, can look past toenails, make-up, bras, plastic surgeries, crass behaviors, alternative life-styles, and more to see hearts just like mine, hearts that don't need new lines drawn but do need a Savior just like mine.

"Blessed are those whose lawless

deeds are forgiven,

and whose sins are covered;

blessed is the man against whom

the Lord will not count his sin."

(Rom. 4:7-8)

Thank God Christ came to save sinners, because we are all sinners!

Born this Way - a little monster

2011-08-10T21:59:00.000-07:00

Lady Gaga is an extreme talent, a driving personality, a dynamo of culture, and a force of nature. She is not only a singer but a performance artist, a theatrical diva. Those who dismiss her as a knock-off of Madonna not only over-rate Madonna but miss the point. While Madonna, at Gaga's age, was the "Material Girl", Gaga, at 25 is out to change the world. Paul and I are both fascinated by her.

Photo courtesy Softpedia

Her latest hit, Born This Way appears both designed and destined to be an anthem for the disenfranchised, the discarded, the downtrodden of our society. Beginning with words from a mother to her trepid little girl, it aches with passionate love and compassion. It fights to strengthen the heart of the child and fill it full with her own hope for her future. Gaga, almost nun-like in her devotion to career and mission, having no marriage, and no children of her own, reaches out with an aching maternal heart to embrace a world of marginalized souls. These people, who've sensed from their earliest years for whatever reason - be it race, appearance, sexual feelings, disability, or personality quirks - that they are odd ducks and misfits, are her children, her "little monsters" as she calls them, and she means to give them all the love, hope, acceptance, and encouragement they so desperately need. She is their fierce and devoted mother, and this is her song to them.

My mama told me when I was young

We are all born superstars
She rolled my hair and put my lipstick on
In the glass of her boudoir

"There's nothin' wrong with lovin' who you are"
She said, "'Cause He made you perfect, babe"
"So hold your head up, girl and you you'll go far,
Listen to me when I say"

I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way

Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself and you're set
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way

Ooo there ain't no other way
Baby I was born this way...

To misfits like Paul and I, this song strums a deep chord. We understand what she is trying to do, and we feel the love behind it. She doesn't want anyone to know the pain of the outcast. Neither do we. Neither do I.

I've been a homely and misfit little girl. I am a mother. And so the pain of both resonates with me. Through those rents in my heart I can touch, even if only slightly, the pain of all the outcasts of this world, and of those who truly love them. I feel immediate comfort and relief in being acknowledged and valued by the Lady. I welcome her words with a hungry heart...so far as I can believe them.

I believe, as my Bible tells me, that every human life is created in the image of God. Experience, too, leads me to agree that every human life comes with its own singular beauty, its imprints of the divine. In my own case, those imprints can be seen in my creativity, intelligence, love of truth, capacity for compassion, and, possibly most notably in my conscience, which informs me, whether I want it to or not, of when I'm doing wrong - when I am cruel, unkind, or unloving, when I've cheapened the image of God in another, or in myself. (See Romans 2:14-16.)

It is true that God makes no mistakes. I believe that with all my heart. I was created in the likeness of God, but I am not God. I do make mistakes, and some of the terrible things I've done were no mistakes at all. And I know I'm not alone in this. Life, in the many cruelties I've witnessed, been subjected to, and committed myself, has convinced me of the truth of these words, "...all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Rom. 3:23).

By all accounts, I was angry from my earliest days. My mother blames the hospital, which would not feed me when I was hungry, but only on their schedule, even if I had thrown up every meal, which is reportedly what I did. Whether that is the cause or not I cannot say for sure. All I know is that my earliest childhood memories are shrouded in rage. Every ounce of love I felt was cancelled out by an ounce of anger or hatred. One of my earliest memories is of finding a kitten and trying to pick it up, to hold and pet it. It hissed and squirmed and scratched. Enraged, I tried to strangle it. I'd nearly killed it before I suddenly realized what I was doing. Horrified, I stopped. From that day forward I knew something. I was a little monster. I could kill. I was terrified. I buried my secret deep and did my best to build walls around it. I could never let it out, never embrace it, never dare feed or nurture it.

I was born this way....or you might argue that I wasn't: it wasn't nature; it was nurture. But, I ask, what is the difference if the end result is the same? I cannot undo it or change it, and I certainly cannot celebrate it.

In the official music video for Born this Way, a stunning work of art that is too dark in its themes and too disturbing and graphic in its violent birth imagery for me to feature here, Lady Gaga begins by telling a tale, a myth really, a sort of theodicy. She tells of the Mother Monster giving birth in a "government-owned alien territory in space". It's an infinite birth, to a "race within the race of humanity". This race "bears no prejudice, no judgment, but boundless freedom." But on the same day as this wonderful birth came another, terrible birth: the birth of evil. The force of these two births split the mother in two and "rotating in agony between two ultimate forces the Pendulum of Choice began its dance. It seems easy, you imagine, to gravitate instantly and unwaveringly towards good. But she wondered, 'How can I protect something so perfect without evil?" In this creation account, evil is necessary as a defender of good.

Perhaps, were Gaga's myth true, she would have to argue, that the misfit that is Me, is not a part of this special race of humanity. Because in my life, the evil monster has never had the slightest interest in protecting the likeness of God in me. In fact, it has done all in its power to destroy or deface it. The monster in me is a narcissist and lives to make excuses for itself. It does not respect my conscience; it tells me to ignore it. It tells me to make excuses for my behaviors, that I don't need to change. It encourages me to shift the blame for my actions to others. It tells me all my desires are good, and leads me to view my fellow humans as means to my own pleasures and gain, or to resent them as obstacles to my happiness, or to just ignore them as irrelevant to my needs. This is the character of my monster. This is the character I was born with. The only time it protects or celebrates what is good and noble, is when it is to its advantage, so it can puff up with pride and self-righteous superiority.

In reality, it is only the good in me, the law of God written on my heart, which gave me my earliest glimpses of myself as I really am. It is the good in me which which all of my life has led me in my feeble efforts to silence my monster. But the truth is, my monster does not wish to be silenced, so in the many years of my life it has altered its form. It's mellowed with age. It's grown wiser. It's found ways of self-expression which are more societally acceptable. My monster hears the words of Born this Way and whispers, "Yes, let me out! Celebrate me! I'm nicer now. I'm wiser. I won't hurt you or anybody else anymore. I've reformed." Self-deception is what enabled to look myself in the mirror each morning for forty dark years. My monster is a liar.

I agree with Lady Gaga that God makes no mistakes, and that He made me. But I will never blame Him for the evil in me, or try to re-label my evil as good. Changing the words will not change my heart. And a new heart is what I really need. I cannot accept any message of hope that does not first acknowledge that there is something really wrong with me. You cannot tell the little girl strangling a kitten that there is nothing wrong with her. She KNOWS something is wrong, and she is terrified. Accepting the condition will not change it. Self-acceptance and morality-shifting may at times provide temporary relief, but they will ultimately fail to provide lasting peace or happiness.

Embracing the monster does not make it any less a monster. Neither does trying to make it behave. I know this from a lifetime of trying. My mother tried to subdue it. Society tried to subdue it. Religious legalism tried to subdue it. I tried to subdue it. All these efforts met with some success. I've never been as bad as I could have been. But the monster lived on, getting away with whatever it thought would not rain too much trouble down on its head. I didn't need the monster tamed, I needed it dead.

One of the things I've learned from contemplating Born this Way, is that Lady Gaga's aspirations are little different than that of the religious fundamentalism she appears to be reacting against. Both seek theonomy: "the state of an individual or society that regards its own nature and norms as being in accord with the divine nature." Both believe peace belongs to the person or society that achieves it. Both think morality is the key to being in accord with the divine nature. Lady Gaga believes that morality is defined by the individual, who is already perfect by virtue of creation. And so the key to peace and happiness is found in accepting oneself and one's morality, and everyone else's as well, because that is the divine nature. The religious fundamentalist believes that the key to individual and societal peace is obedience to a single standard of morality (which standard, ironically, will differ depending upon the particular religion and interpretation of it). Unfortunately, both are wrong. The monster is too deadly to embrace, and cannot be tamed. Morality is not the key to personal or societal peace. This is why Lady Gaga's kind and well intentioned words provide only limited comfort. (It's hard to resist someone who defends you so fiercely and accepts you so unconditionally as Gaga does, and therein lies the root of the devotion of her fans.) My condition is dire and has been from Day One. I'm not the person God made me to be. I've always known it. The law of God written on my heart testifies to it. I've done so much wrong in my life. Yes, there were often extenuating circumstances, and I was not the only guilty party. Ultimately, though, I have no one to blame but myself for my own decisions, my own actions, and my own attitudes. There is no hope for me in any message that does not acknowledge that plain truth, or in any message that tells me everything will be better if I will only resolve to do right from now on. And this is at the heart of why I am a Christian.

In Christ, justice and mercy kiss each other because Christ is both "just and the justifier of the one who has faith" in Him. (See Rom. 3:26) The perfect God, whose standards of perfect love I've violated my whole life, loves me. (He loves you, too.) Christ, who knows my sins better than I do, and knows that I can not and will not change of my own accord, died the death that was meant for me and took the monster, and my guilt to the grave with Him. He rose from death by the power of God, and now by the same power gives new life to me and to everyone who puts their confidence in Him. He came to save sinners and I am so glad - because I am a sinner!

The video below is Lady Gaga's live performance of Born this Way at the Grammys. I would give it an R rating. Viewer discretion is advised.

Intermezzo

2011-08-08T00:32:00.000-07:00

Well friends, instead of the refreshed and renewed energy I was hoping for after my recent vacation, I'm still working through my first serious bout of writer's block and hoping to have something to offer here in a day or two. In the meantime, however, as if sensing my need to write more lightly, to get the juices flowing, my husband suddenly erupted with a concept for another joint-blogging project. It is about as different as can be from anything I do here, or what he and I have done on our other joint-blog, but reflective as can be of the kind of thing Paul and I consider fun. I will say no more. If you are curious, I invite you to visit us here.

No, I'm not dead, or even suicidal....

2011-07-29T16:39:00.000-07:00

I'm on vacation!

It occurs to me that it's been more than a month since I've written or posted anything here, and that my last entry was a tad on the dark side. Really, it was a reflection on a dark time I had gone through a few weeks prior and a glimmer of good that came from it. More or less it is my living experience of, "So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it." (1 Cor. 10:12-13) and "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 receive from God." (2 Cor. 1:3-4)

I remember some time ago, I explored that word "temptation" as it is used in the New Testament. I found that in most cases the same word in the original Greek is translated variously as "trial", "temptation", and "test". This was a valuable lesson, because with every "trial", no matter its source - whether it be a temptation from without seeking to directly draw us into some sin or another, or one from within, stemming from our own lusts (and truly, if an external temptation doesn't find an internal drive to attach itself to it doesn't stand a chance), or a hardship of any kind: job loss, illness, personal rejection, poverty, etc. - the trouble is ultimately the same. A hardship, any hardship, can be the source of temptation. Every hardship, every temptation is a trial.

A tempest in a teapot is still a tempest, if you happen to live in a teapot that is.

And so, my tempest - a terrible mistake I didn't actually make, but inexplicably thought I had, and the fears and doubts that were exposed by it - became a source of deep anguish, and a poem.

Since then I've been catching up on things neglected during my year of public service, and planning for our first vacation in three years, which we are on right now! Hopefully I will return home refreshed and ready to face my "real life" with renewed hope and vigor, and vacation pictures!

Humility's Seeds

2011-06-20T23:37:00.000-07:00

Humility's seeds

are sown in horror,

in stomachs refusing to eat,

in hearts refusing to hope

in minds refusing release

from the terror

of wrongs which cannot be undone.

Humility's seeds

spread roots

in souls tilled by torment

in nights turning sleepless

in flight seeking cover

from the shame

of trust which cannot be regained.

One Woman, One Weekend, One Wonderful Home Improvement Project

2011-05-31T23:12:00.000-07:00

Well, two posts ago I shared some pictures from the ongoing project of turning our 1905-built house into the charmer which, by virtue of its age, it has every right to be. (Don't we all?) We left off with me systematically tearing out sections of filthy old carpet and revealing a very old, very ugly, non-hardwood wood floor. This project was designated as mine, first because it's a dirty job and Paul has asthma, secondly because I hate to pile Paul with projects on his days off, (He has a very demanding job.) and thirdly because it's right up my alley; I wanted to do it.

And so, Memorial weekend happened, and happened to be the first three consecutive days off I've had in recent memory. Also, Paul would be working most of the weekend. The planets had lined up.

Saturday evening. First two rows.
Not quite clear from this picture is how
crooked the floor is along the length of
those floor boards.

In case you can't tell, I'll admit it right up front: I am feeling ridiculously accomplished and excited about this! Of all the projects we've undertaken since purchasing this house four years ago (Yes, four years. Yes, we are upside-down. Yes, we are making the best of it!) I think this has been the most dramatic. It certainly was the most difficult, at least for me, since I did it all myself...

The crooked floor combined with that little partial wall
slowed me way down! It turns out that the left wall as it continues on the other side is slightly out of square!
In short, if I had thought it through I could have forseen the impending alignment problem.

So, after some frustration, I called it a night at about 1 AM.
(The paper is my attempt to prevent dust and pet hair
from sticking to the adhesive edges of the flooring material.)

Lil' Chompy seems pleased.

Sunday afternoon between lunch and evening worship offered me a couple more quiet hours, which yielded an adequate, though not perfect, solution to my

not-quite-square-wall problem

The crooked yellow wall.


So here's where I finished on Sunday.


The mess of emptying bookshelves in order to move them is a real motivator to get the job over and done with as quickly as possible.

And then came Monday, Memorial Day, the first day I've had no reason whatsoever to leave the house since I-can't-remember-when. Paul and I slept in until 9 or so and had a lovely morning of conversation over french toast until the time came for him to head off for work. I would have until just about 9:30 pm to complete my job! I really, really wanted it to be all finished, like a gift waiting for him, when Paul came home, exhausted, from work. So here's how it went:


All the stuff from inside the wardrobe

Down to the last section! Just two big shelves full of books stood between me and completion.

Cutting around the floor vent was easier than I expected!

And here it is!

(We had to cover our adorable new loveseat with packing tape to keep the cats from clawing it. Not so adorable now!)

And this is what Paul saw when he came through that front door that night! We are still so excited we can hardly get over it. Tony still comments every time he walks in. For about a dollar per square foot,+ tax, (about half of what we would have spent if we paid for professional installation) we got what feels like a whole new house!

Finally, if you're curious about this flooring that's so easy to install that one woman can do it by herself without the aid of any power tools, you can check it out here.

Filled with the Fullness of God

2011-05-23T17:16:00.000-07:00

I was thinking yesterday about the love of God, and how I really have to believe in His love before I can ever trust Him and repent of my hatred and rebellion against Him. I was thinking how true it is that fear has never led me to repent, only reflecting on God's kindness toward me has. And I thought how the world sits already under condemnation, yet it is through the love of God embodied in Christ that God has chosen to call mankind to repentance.

And this morning I found these words of Brennan Manning in my inbox:

“The saved sinner is prostrate in adoration, lost in wonder and praise. He knows repentance is not what we do in order to earn forgiveness; it is what we do because we have been forgiven. It serves as an expression of gratitude rather than an effort to earn forgiveness. Thus the sequence of forgiveness and then repentance, rather than repentance and then forgiveness is crucial for understanding the gospel of grace”

Which brought me back to yesterday evening's church service in which we questioned what it means to be "filled with the fullness of God", and learned from this prayer of the apostle Paul that the key to the fullness of Christian life is the ever deepening knowledge and heart-understanding of the love of Christ:

"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." Ephesians 3: 15-19 (emphasis mine)

Did you catch that? We need God's own strength to comprehend God's love! And the strength from God to love comes from being rooted and grounded in love. And so I pray as Paul did for the strength to comprehend this incomprehensible love.

If there's one thing I know for certain, it's that with God's love and the assurance it provides I could face all things and say and do the hardest of things. If and when I really believe with every fiber of my being that He loves me, I can muster courage to love others. I can reach out my hand and risk being bitten, and, bitten, reach out again.

Sheltered by His love I can weather storms, tragedies, and onslaughts of criticism. From the safety of His embrace, I can love and serve, even in the face of unkindness, cruelty, and rejection. I can rest in God's acceptance when the world and even my fellow Christians reject me.

When I am confident of His love I can hazard making mistakes, and readily own up to them too.

In the certainty of His love for me, I can deny myself and take up my cross of hardship with confidence,

knowing that my "self" is safe in His hands.

Yes, all I need for this life and the life to come is to comprehend His incomprehensible love.

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised— who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written,
"For your sake we are being killed all the day long;
we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered."
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:31-39 (emphasis mine)

It makes the plainest of sense that the fullness of God comes to a soul only through the understanding of the greatest revelation of His love - the love expressed in the sacrifice of Christ for us.

God grant me strength to believe in and comprehend your love for me.

When the cat's got my tongue, or....

2011-05-10T23:04:00.000-07:00

What I'm doing when I'm not blogging.

Well, friends, only six weeks left until I complete the job that has been depleting my creative juices. My work on the Grand Jury has sapped my free time and most of those particular mental and emotional resources from which my writing would normally be drawn. So much of my life is consumed just now by things I'm not allowed to talk about. And all the rest I'm just too tired to think about, let alone write about.

And so, I've taken on other projects.

As I've likely mentioned before, we've been puppy-sitting our grand-chihuahua (and grand-tabby cat) for the last few months while my daughter teaches English in the Republic of Georgia. We were filled to the brim with pets before, and now our house runneth over....and so does Lil' Chompy, all over the carpet. We've intended to replace the decades old rental house carpet ever since we bought this place four years ago. We just kept waiting for the Sack-O-Cash to drop from the sky to pay for it.

Unfortunately, it hasn't started raining cash yet, but it has been raining dog pee, and the carpet has gotten worse and worse until I couldn't get rid of the odor and couldn't stand it any longer.

A few weeks ago I pulled up the corner of the carpet where the smell seemed to be the strongest and found it to be soaked through and deeply stained. And I made the commitment right then and there. I cut out about three square feet of carpet. Since then, on days or evenings when I'm home but Paul's at work (I can't do this when Paul is home because the filth will aggravate his asthma.) I've been tearing out carpet. As of right now I'm about half-way through. It's a big and messy job. As you can see. Under the carpet and padding is a layer of powder-fine dirt, and under that 106 year old plank floor (not hardwood). The hardest part of the job is moving the furniture. Since our house is so tiny, almost all our furniture items must do double-duty as storage. As a result almost everything I have to move is stacked or filled with books, music, games, videos, etc.

Since we cannot afford the several hundred extra dollars labor charge to have new flooring installed, we had to choose a kind of flooring simple enough for me to install myself. After speaking to several people, we settled on vinyl plank hardwood, in a cherry shade, since that was the prettiest of the sale items. Removing the carpet is hard work, but satisfying in the sense that I can't really mess it up. Installing new flooring is a different matter. I'm pretty nervous about that part, but that step is still a few weeks away. In the meantime it's rough, stained, paint-splattered wood and ever-diminishing patches of disgusting carpet.

The picture to the right gives an idea of just how filthy the wood is even after sweeping it. The picture below shows Lil' Chompy, the catalyst for all this change. (That linoleum is gone now, too, by the way.) He is no doubt looking outside because it's much prettier out there.

This winter must have done something special to our yard. All our plants, things we've planted in the first years since we moved in are blooming wildly for the first time. What a happy and fulfilling feeling! If only I had more free time to spend out there enjoying it all!

Our mandarin tree is loaded with sweet citrus blossoms
giving us hope for our first ever home-grown fruit!

More mandarin blossoms!

Clematis flowers have woven themselves

into the grapevine.

It's the third spring since planting.

We're hoping to see our first grapes this year.

Grapevine (and some weeds)
growing along the fence

Cinco!

Is your Christ a cruel tyrant?

2011-04-03T17:43:00.000-07:00

Sometime around 1769, Quaker John Woolman fell ill and nearly died. He related later in his journal that for several hours he was so near death that he no longer even knew who he was. He was only aware that he was a part of the gray mass that is the misery of humankind. But then he heard what he thought must be "an holy angel" saying to him, "John Woolman is dead." Then, remembering that he was John Woolman, and recognizing that he was still alive he was...

"...carried in spirit to the mines where poor oppressed people were digging rich treasures for those called Christians, and heard them blaspheme the name of Christ, at which I was grieved, for his name to me was precious. I was then informed that these heathens were told that those who oppressed them were the followers of Christ, and they said among themselves, 'If Christ directed them to use us in this sort, then Christ is a cruel tyrant.'"

As Woolman began to recover and as he lay, still weak, these words came to his mind: "I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. And the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." And he realized the "death of John Woolman" the voice spoke of in his illness was referring to the death of his will. He lived his life thereafter ever more careful not to partake of luxuries or behaviors that caused, depended upon, or perpetuated the suffering of others....to live so as never to portray Christ as a tyrant.

Fellow Christian, is your Christ a cruel oppressor? Does He advance His kingdom by force or maintain it by dread? Is His heart hardened to the weakness, sin, and sufferings of others? Or is Christ compassionate and seeking to bear their burdens? Is He forgiving, even of His enemies, even to the point of death? How we live our lives - our words, our deeds, our demeanor, our attitudes, our priorities, even our possessions - reflects what we really believe about Christ. How we treat the weakest, most vulnerable, most dependent among us - the alien, the woman, the impoverished, the child - reflects to them and every watching eye what we really believe about Christ. The painful truth is that sometimes Christ really is blasphemed because of us.

May God grant us repentance.

What Laurie's Reading

2011-03-31T19:31:00.000-07:00

Well, since I've got nothing else going, I thought I might as well share this video clip. (Apologies to those of you who've already viewed it on my other blog, or Facebook.) The truth is, Paul and I have both been ridiculously busy with our respective jobs. We have not been too busy, however, for the occasional geeky tomfoolery. Here's a peek at a little project Paul is warming up to - interviewing people about what they've been reading. Most naturally, and conveniently, he's begun with me!

Here we are in our natural habitat. And here I am unrehearsed and unprepared - as usual!

Missing you

2011-03-06T22:38:00.000-08:00

I miss my friends. I miss my blog. I miss the joy of wondering out loud and sharing things I'm learning.

I'm busy with work and other projects I'm not at liberty to discuss which are taking up almost every moment of my "free" time, that is, the time I would usually spend writing here. I barely even have the time to read what others are writing.

Many exciting things are happening, too, which I am also not free to discuss. But I trust that when this season of hard work and rapid change, and crazy-unexpected-answers-to-prayer has passed, God will fill my heart with words of hope and encouragement to share.

For now I can say that God is faithful and hears and answers prayer. And even better news than that is that the Gospel is true and it is good news. Today I heard the Gospel proclaimed. I hadn't quite noticed that through the busy work week I'd been slowly suffocating, that is until I breathed in the clean brisk air of the Gospel of Jesus Christ as it flowed from the lips of the preacher this morning.

Look to Christ. Focus on Him. Our hope, our future, our love, our peace, our unity, are all found in Him, and Him alone.

Sometimes life gets hairy

2011-02-23T22:45:00.000-08:00

Casa Mathers has been a busy place lately!

On top of our usual commitments (not to mention our unusual ones) we have been left with a few more.

Well, two actually.

First,

there's Lil' Compy,

my daughter's chihuahua.

Ever wonder what happens

when pit bull meets chihuahua?

Well, wonder no further.

Welcome to bedtime

with Ginger and Chompy....*

And next, meet Desi...

a whole other species of amazing.

There's no one else quite like him...

a cat who purrs like a pigeon,

speaks when spoken to...

and expects to be spoken to.

Suddenly our other cats

seem positively void of personality!

Now, for the rest of the story. As many of you know, Paul and I were already living at critical pet mass. We were each sworn, individually and as a marital unit, not to allow another critter, no matter how pitiful or cute, into our crowded abode. But then my daughter, who just graduated from college, Summa Cum Laude, with degrees in Liberal Studies and Linguistics (okay, yes, I'm ridiculously proud of her!) was offered the just-out-of-college-wish-I-could-join-the-Peace Corps-but-their-waiting-list-is-years-long job of her dreams: five months teaching English in the Democratic Republic of Georgia. Yes, they're paying her to travel to this former Soviet republic, and to live there for five months! But they would not do the same for her pets, and, really, how could her doting family possibly refuse them?

So now we are sharing 1100 sq. ft. with two and a half adults, (My 19 year old son still keeps all his stuff here, and lives here himself when he finds the time.) three dogs, four cats, and carpet that grows more disgusting with each moment that passes. The good news is that Lil' Chompy is learning to pee outside or on his pad instead of just wherever.

Just for giggles, here is the rest of our menagerie:

Top to bottom: Napoleon (I wish you could see his golden eyes!), Schubert ("Who me? Sweet innocent me? Eat cat poop? ...), Mango the magnifiCAT, and Agnes the gentle - rescued animals one and all.

*Apologies for the quality of these videos and pictures. They are all from my cell phone. I haven't mastered Paul's new camera yet, so I'm sticking with what I know.

So Many Lessons from one Quaker Meeting

2011-02-15T00:44:00.000-08:00

Who would think that with my "reformed" background I would be so blessed and challenged by the simple writings of an unassuming Quaker? While my last post, the one about reviling, was still echoing in the ears of my heart I continued my reading in The Journal of John Woolman. (By the way, Woolman was an approximate contemporary of Jonathan Edwards, who was 17 years older. Both lived in Colonial America. Both died in their fifties, of smallpox, before the Revolutionary War.) I found myself with Woolman at the 1760 Newport, Rhode Island Yearly Meeting of the Society of Friends (Quakers), feeling his desire to glorify Christ, along with his deep trepidation, as he contemplated how to broach the subject of the slavery in their midst. He agonized over the great evil of the African slave trade, and also over his love for these brothers and sisters in Christ, his fellow Quakers. It was in his heart to suggest, if he could find his way clear, that the assembly present a petition against slavery to the Legislature. When his chance came he gathered the courage he would need to touch as he would be the personal interest and livelihood of his hearers. He addressed the group meekly and with deep affection:

"'I have been under a concern for some time on account of the great number of slaves which are imported into this colony. I am aware that it is a tender point to speak to, but apprehend I am not clear in the sight of Heaven without doing so....' such was the exercise of my mind that to move it in the hearing of Friends when assembled appeared to me as a duty, for my heart yearned towards the inhabitants of these parts, believing that by this trade there had been an increase of inquietude amongst them, and way had been made for the spreading of a spirit opposite to that meekness and humility which is a sure resting place for the soul; and that the continuance of this trade would not only render their healing more difficult, but would increase their malady." (emphasis mine)

He left the essay he wished to present to the Legislature with the Society for their approval, and then, while courage remained, moved on to another matter that had been deeply troubling him, a practice apparently just as socially ingrained, profitable, and widespread as slavery in colonial America: lotteries.

Yes, lotteries:

"...And now...the hearts of some solid Friends appeared to be united to discourage the practice amongst their members, and the matter was zealously handled by some on both sides. In this debate it appeared very clear to me that the spirit of lotteries was a spirit of selfishness, which tended to confuse and darken the understanding, and that pleading for it in our meetings, which were set apart for the Lord's work, was not right. In the heat of zeal, I made reply to what an ancient Friend said, and when I sat down I saw that my words were not enough seasoned with charity." (emphasis mine)

With the discussion of reviling so fresh in my mind, I was eager to hear how Woolman would handle his remorse over his less-than-charitable behavior, but I really couldn't just pass by this lottery business. I mean, really, lotteries? Surely the word must have meant something different back then. I had to look this up. Here is what I found:

"After the first English lottery approved by King James I in 1612 that granted the Virginia Company of London the right to raise money and therefore found the original settlement, lotteries in the colonies continued to be popular. In fact lotteries played a significant role in the financing of building and improving the colonies. Records show that over 200 lotteries were permitted between 1744 and the American Revolution, these played a vital role in the funding of roads, libraries, churches, colleges, bridges, and other public works. Princeton, Columbia University, and the University of Pennsylvania began by being financed by lotteries. Lotteries also played a part in supporting the war efforts during the French and Indian Wars and the American Revolution. Rare lottery tickets with George Washington's signature can still be found and are worth about $15,000 today.

Alexander Hamilton wrote that " Everybody...will be willing to hazard a trifling sum for the chance of considerable gain...and would prefer a small chance of winning a great deal to a great chance of winning little." while the Continental Congress employed lotteries to aid in the war effort. The lotteries were especially useful in raising funds as taxation was a sensitive issue among the colonists, unfortunately this practice also led to the belief that lotteries were/ are a form of hidden tax." (History of Lottery. com , emphasis mine)

Call me naive, but first of all I was stunned, and even a bit sickened, to learn that the foundations of our country and even our American churches had rested their weight so heavily on the financial supports of gambling and the greed that drives it. I didn't want to believe it. Yet as it soaked in, I realized that it makes perfect sense. America has been since its inception a nation and an economy driven largely by the self-interest, greed, and discontent of its people. Loathe to give (in the form of taxes) a certain amount for the good of all, we are willing to take risks for the slightest hope of great personal gain. We are not only reaping what our forefathers sowed, but continue to sow the same seeds into future generations.

With that in mind, I was able to better understand Woolman's point: "the spirit of lotteries was a spirit of selfishness, which tended to confuse and darken the understanding...". In an earlier place in his journal he had this to say:

"If selfish views or a partial spirit have any room in our minds, we are unfit for the Lord's work..."

The defenders of the lottery system in their meeting had stirred up self-interest, stoking the flames of passion, and quenching the work of the Holy Spirit in their midst. Woolman himself was caught up in the moment, upset by what he was seeing, and his own love faltered, leading him to speak too harshly to an elderly man in the group. And here I was brought back to my discussion of reviling, and wondered what Woolman would do, having reviled a man publicly. Would he chalk it up to the heat of the moment? Would he consider himself justified because he was in the right? Would he excuse it because he behaved no different than anyone else in the assembly? After all, he was in the right. If he admitted fault he would risk undermining his argument in the eyes of the congregation. Would he let it go, or would he deal with it?

"Some time after this minute was made I remained uneasy with the manner of my speaking to the ancient Friend, and could not see my way clear to conceal my uneasiness, though I was concerned that I might say nothing to weaken the cause in which I had labored. After some close exercise and hearty repentance for not having attended closely to the safe guide, I stood up, and, reciting the passage, acquainted Friends that though I durst not go from what I had said as to the matter, yet I was uneasy with the manner of my speaking, believing milder language would have been better. As this was uttered in some degree of creaturely abasement after a warm debate, it appeared to have a good savor among us."

I think there is a lesson to be learned from Woolman's predicament. We are all sinners, and yet, like Woolman, God holds us all responsible to stand up for what is right. How can such dreadfully flawed people be standard-bearers for the Kingdom of God? How do we handle that inevitable moment when we sin in the carrying out of God's work? What do we do when we realize we've spoken God's truth without God's love? We would do well to follow Woolman's example: humbly confess our sin, restore the warmth of fellowship, and continue speaking the truth. In his case his sin was public so he repented of it publicly. Humbling himself, he testified to the wrong he had committed before the very souls who had witnessed it and stood in danger of being affected by it. In doing so, he reintroduced meekness and humility - those harbingers of the Spirit of Christ - to the assembly.

"If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us." (1 John 1:8-10)

"Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for 'God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.' Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you." (1 Peter 5:5b-7)

So often I choose to read men of great learning, enjoying the challenge their intellects provide. In Woolman I'm finding a challenge of a different kind: the challenge of a humble man's submission to the Spirit and teaching of Christ, the witness of one who led in the upside-down manner of God's kingdom where the greatest gains are gotten through humble service, where God's strength is perfected not through intellectual prowess, but through weakness.

Today's word: revilers

2011-02-08T20:03:00.000-08:00

What behaviors come to mind when you think of an unrighteous man? What habitual behaviors, when you see them, might lead you to conclude that you might not be dealing with a Christian? What behaviors are egregious enough, when un-repented of, to disqualify someone from service in the local church or lead to church discipline? Well, I'm sure we can all think of a few. Many of them indeed are included in the following list:

"Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God." (1 Corinthians 6:9-11, emphasis mine)

Christians are known for their outspoken opposition to many of the behaviors in that list. But there is one I have yet to hear a Christian preach against. In fact, there is one that I would suggest has become characteristic of our culture. It is the sin of reviling.

Revile:

–verb (used with object)

1. to assail with contemptuous or opprobrious language; address or speak of abusively.

–verb (used without object)

2. to speak abusively.

—Synonyms
1. abuse, vilify, vituperate, berate, disparage.

Reviling dominates our debates, our blogs and comment threads, much of our humor and entertainment, and most of what passes for our news media. Our ears itch to hear our opponents mocked and disparaged, abused, berated, and vilified. Reviling has taken over our rhetoric. Like the chariot races and gladiator matches of ancient days, abusive language make our hearts pound with excitement while deafening our ears to the cries of the gentle. It hardens our hearts. It turns us into bullies, or it bullies us into subjection. I truly wish I could say I was speaking only of the culture of the "world," but the truth of the matter is, reviling has permeated "Christian" culture and public behavior. It's a smack-down world and we want smack-down leaders who can take down the opposition with savor and flourish. We prefer arrogance to meekness. In a world of bullies we want bullies to lead us and make us feel safe and our position sound. Don't mess with us, we'll take you down!

Yet the Scripture tells us that revilers will not enter the kingdom of heaven....

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, self-control, gentleness; against such things there is no law. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." (Galatians 5:22-24 emphasis mine)

May God grant us repentance.

On Authority and Slavery - lessons from Woolman and Douglass

2011-01-28T00:05:00.000-08:00

I've finally begun reading another of the Harvard Classics my husband has been pressing me to read for months now: The Journal of John Woolman. Woolman was a Quaker living in colonial days in America. In his travels visiting Friends among the colonies he saw his share of slavery and was often housed by fellow Quakers who were slaveholders. His experiences and his faith convinced him that slavery was an evil which destroyed both slave and master:

"Two things were remarkable to me in this journey: first, in regard to my entertainment. When I ate, drank, and lodged free-cost with people who lived in ease on the hard labor of their slaves I felt uneasy; and as my mind was inward to the Lord, I found this uneasiness return upon me, at times, through the whole visit. Where the masters bore a good share of the burden, and lived frugally, so that their servants were well provided for, and their labor moderate, I felt more easy; but where they lived in a costly way, and laid heavy burdens on their slaves, my exercise was often great, and I frequently had conversation with them in private concerning it. Secondly, this trade of importing slaves from their native country being much encouraged amongst them, and the white people and their children so generally living without much labor, was frequently the subject of my serious thoughts. I saw in these southern provinces so many vices and corruptions, increased by this trade and this way of life, that it appeared to me as a dark gloominess hanging over the land; and though now many willingly run into it, yet in future the consequence will be grievous to posterity. I express it as it hath appeared to me, not once, nor twice, but as a matter fixed on my mind." (1746 emphasis mine)

After this first enlightening journey, Woolman, as part of his mercantile business, would find himself faced with requests for him to draw up wills and other contracts which involved the disposition of slaves. On the first of these occasions he did as he was asked, but found his conscience troubled so deeply that in the future he would refuse all such work, and never without explaining his scruples. From these experiences of obeying his Christ-informed conscience he learned "...that acting contrary to present outward interest, from a motive of Divine love and in regard to truth and righteousness, and thereby incurring the resentments of people, opens the way to a treasure better than silver, and to a friendship exceeding the friendship of men." And as time passed, he would see his earnest conviction bring about changes of hearts which would lead to the eventual freeing of many slaves.

"My mind was deeply engaged in this visit, both in public and private, and at several places where I was, on observing that they had slaves, I found myself under a necessity, in a friendly way, to labor with them on that subject; expressing, as way opened, the inconsistency of that practice with the purity of the Christian religion, and the ill effects of it manifested amongst us." (emphasis mine)

Indeed, Woolman's ongoing outspoken stance against slavery would eventually lead to a change in the official position of the Quakers on the subject, a conviction so firm that in 1790 the Society of Friends would go so far as to petition the United States Congress for the abolition of slavery *.

Woolman's observations on the morally destructive nature of slavery on those who practiced it resounded clearly another account I read earlier in the week. This, the recollection of former slave Frederick Douglass regarding his childhood master:

image via Wikipedia
"Yet he was not by nature worse than other men. Had he been brought up in a free state, surrounded by the full restraints of civilized society - restraints which are necessary to the freedom of all its members, alike and equally, Capt. Anthony might have been as humane a man as are members of such society generally. A man's character always takes its hue, more or less, from the form and color of things about him. The slaveholder, as well as the slave, was the victim of the slave system. Under the whole heavens there could be no relation more unfavorable to the development of honorable character than that sustained by the slaveholder to the slave. Reason is imprisoned here and passions run wild." from The Autobiography of Frederick Douglass (emphasis mine)

And in another place he relates the testimony of his own eyes - the steady moral degradation of an otherwise kind woman as she settles into the attitude of slave ownership.

"She at first lacked the depravity indispensable to shutting me up in mental darkness. It was at least necessary for her to have some training in the exercise of irresponsible power, to make her equal to the task of treating me as though I were a brute.

. . . In entering upon the duties of a slaveholder, she did not seem to perceive that I sustained to her the relation of a mere chattel, and that for her to treat me as a human being was not only wrong, but dangerously so. Slavery proved as injurious to her as it did to me.

When I went there she was a pious, warm, and tender-hearted woman. There was no sorrow or suffering for which she had not a tear. . . . Slavery soon proved its ability to divest her of these heavenly qualities. Under its influence, the tender heart became stone, and the lamb-like disposition gave way to one of tiger-like fierceness.

The first step in her downward course was in her ceasing to instruct me. She now commenced to practice her husband’s precepts. She finally became even more violent in her opposition than her husband himself. She was not satisfied with simply doing as well as he had commanded. . . .

Nothing seemed to make her more angry than to see me with a newspaper. She seemed to think that here lay the danger. I have had her rush at me with a face made all up of fury, and snatch from me the newspaper, in a manner that fully revealed her apprehension. She was an apt woman; and a little experience soon demonstrated, to her satisfaction, that education and slavery were incompatible with each other." (Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1995, orig. 1885, p. 22). As quoted and emphasized by John Piper.

And so, what have I gained from these contemplations of slavery? I mean, really, slavery is over in America, right? Well, yes it is. But the nature of man has not changed, only the structures of authority. There are lessons here for everyone who owns even the slightest measure of authority - fathers, mothers, husbands, law enforcement officials, judges, social workers, employers, creditors, pastors...anyone really who holds the reigns of power in their hands to significantly alter the life-course and livelihood of another. As the old tried and true saying goes "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely". It is the nature of man, whether great or small, to be corrupted by authority. Abuse of authority is a hallmark of godlessness, but the heart of a servant is a hallmark of the Christian:

"But Jesus called them to him and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Mt. 20:25-28)

So, in every area were we have the God-given power of authority at our fingertips, we are warned not to wield it as a weapon, but to forge it into the tools of a servant. And, as the citations above reveal, we fail to do so at our own peril. Our abuses of power and mistreatment of others destroy not only them, but our own souls.

An Excellent Husband

2011-01-24T20:18:00.000-08:00

Image via Vincentiens

I am not a great woman. I am a woman damaged and scarred by a world and a lifetime of sin. A woman who finally, at the age of forty, became convinced of the goodness of God, as revealed in His Son Jesus Christ, and trusted in Him. That was over six years ago. Almost four years ago I married my husband, Paul. I was determined to be a good and godly wife. I'd studied and read books to teach me how. By the time of our engagement I'd worked up a hand-written list of rules I thought a good Christian wife should follow, things like: "I was made for him, to be his helper, not the other way around so I must not expect anything from him, because he is not my helper - God is....My role is only to help him glorify God in whatever he does....I must obey my husband....I must never attempt to direct my husband, but wait for him to move, and then follow....Never try to influence him in any way but prayer.....never disagree with him....etc, etc." (It sounded very spiritual, and I was very proud of it!) I showed it to Paul when we got engaged, expecting his approval. Imagine my shock when he told me to tear it up and throw it away!

He didn't want that wife. He didn't want a blank slate to write on. He wanted me, the real me! Me, wounded, abandoned, and prone to depression. Me the uptight woman more worried about what others thought of her than what he did. But really, though he was not blind to those weaknesses, that was not what he saw in me. What he saw in me was a woman with a heart being shaped and gentled by the grace of God - a heart he could trust with his own heart. He saw his friend of two years who would understand and accept him, who he could safely tell anything, who would really try to understand his perspectives and intellectual interests, whose own wounds and frailties enabled her to feel compassion for his. In me he also saw an intelligent, creative soul, an erstwhile artist who would appreciate his idiosyncrasies, delight in his delights, and perhaps even give him new things to be delighted in. He truly valued everything I brought to the table, and I don't just mean food. He eagerly sought out my thoughts and opinions. Paul married me because he recognized it was not good for him to be alone, and he had come to love this woman God had formed and placed in his life. From the day he determined to marry me he set about nurturing all he saw that was beautiful in me, and, seeing my struggles and weaknesses, to set me free from my emotional chains. Every single day, for four years my husband has encouraged me with the hope of the Gospel and demonstrated Christ's own love and dedication to me.

And so, as I said before, I am not a great woman. Nor, as I have mentioned in a previous blog entry, do I have the kind of marriage the books led me to expect. And yet I can with all honesty say that I have a wonderful and uniquely Christian marriage. My husband even insists that I am an excellent wife! So how can that be? Well, I attribute it largely to the example of a truly excellent husband. My husband is a quiet and unassuming man, nearly the definition of meekness, and yet as I look back over the years of our life together it becomes clear to me that it is he who has been primarily responsible for shaping the character of our marriage. So how does he do it? I've given this matter a lot of thought and decided to try to distill here, as best I can, the essence of his strength. What I've come up with, interestingly enough, is not a list of do's or don'ts so much as a set of character traits. Good husbanding begins in the heart.

An excellent Christian husband, above all, is formed by the Gospel. His focus is aligned with Christ's, his emphases on what the Scripture emphasizes. For instance, he has gathered that the Scripture nowhere says, "Husbands lead your wives...." so his focus is not on leading. And yet he does lead, instinctively and strongly, but (like Christ) in ways often so gentle, so imperceptible as to almost be missed. In fact it is almost always in retrospect that I recognize how my husband has led me. I can only trace this to the fact that he has internalized those key Christian truths that turn relationships entirely upside-down - or rather, right-side-up - from what sin and fallen culture has done to them.

"But Jesus called them to him and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Mt. 20:25-28)

Being a Christian requires an altered understanding of authority. In the kingdom of God those with authority are to behave as those who have the least authority of all - servants. In Christ the highest rank is that of slave. Positions of leadership are actually positions of servanthood. Servants by definition submit their wills to the good of others. When we really believe this, it turns our lives upside down. Wives give themselves up for their husbands. Husbands love to serve their wives.

The excellent husband, for the sake of love, has submitted his right to wield authority. His heart's goal is not to rule, but to serve - not to lead, but to love. He will lead when that is what love requires, and when love leads it does so lovingly, with meekness and gentleness.

In Ephesians 5 all Christians are commanded to "walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." (v.2) Wives are then specifically told to reflect this in their marriages by submitting to their husbands. This submission implies a heart-felt and willing giving up of self for the sake of the husband. Husbands, are addressed next, with their appropriate expression of Christian love expanded upon at some length:

"Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. In the same way husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ does the church, because we are members of his body." (vs. 25-30)

The excellent husband places the same value and regard upon his wife as he does his own life, and gives himself up for his her, just as she does for him, and Christ did for the church. This expression of the self-sacrificial nature of husband love is so strong that the apostle senses a need at the end of it to protect it: "let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband." The temptation to abuse a love that tender is strong. Which reminds me of the admonition of Peter: "Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered." (1 Peter 3:7) A godly husband will not use the tender, submissive nature of his wife as temptation or opportunity for scorn or abuse.

In fact, the excellent husband has great respect for women in general. His wife will never have the sense that she is valued only for sex and service. He recognizes that physically and culturally, men throughout history, as a result of the curse, have wielded the power in relationships and demeaned and subjected women in every level of society. Christians, however are not called to perpetuate the curse of sin, but to restore what sin destroyed. And so a godly man remembers that "in the Lord woman is not independent of man nor man of woman; for as woman was made from man, so man is now born of woman. And all things are from God." (1 Cor. 11:11) And that in Christ "there is no male and female" (Gal. 3:28), that his wife and his sisters in Christ are fellow-heirs with him of the grace of life (1 Pet. 3:7), and that they, too, are complete human beings created in the image of God (Gen. 1:27) fully capable of serving and pleasing Him independent of marriage, should they be called to do so (see 1 Cor. 7).

An excellent husband recognizes that God did not hand him a blank slate, a shapeless lump to do with whatever he pleases or make into whatever suits his perceived needs. Rather, he recognizes his wife as God's handiwork, beautiful and suited to him, created to share his joys and pains, to reign with him in life, to glorify God together with him, and to be his strong support. (Gen. 2:18-14)

Paul sees me as his equal in every way (though of course we are very different). He sees our marriage as two people following the Lord together, one flesh, side-by-side leaning upon one another, not marching single-file. He leads by example, by his strong presence, and by the exercise of a love that won't bend when it sees me leaning toward a wrong path. If I veer off in a harmful direction, he plants himself firmly and urges me back to the right road. And though I've no intention to be a leader, I've done the same for him on occasion. This is part of what it means to be a strong help. This is marriage. This is husband and wife living as one flesh, loving and following Christ, glorifying Him together, each with all our hearts desiring to display His self-sacrificial love.

Paul likes to compare marriage to making a cup of tea. In the beginning there is water and there is tea - two very different things. Yet once the tea is introduced to the water, it infuses it entirely. These two when joined change each other, forever. Their individual qualities are integrated throughout. I've told my husband repeatedly that it is only because of his Christlike behavior that we have the lovely marriage that we do. I know he likes to hear that. He always smiles. But he then always shakes his head and says it's not true. It is true that his love is a powerful driving force in our marriage, but it would not be sufficient were I not devoted to Christ myself. He and I both know that were it not for Christ and His example of self-sacrifice I would be a cruel, bitter, and dominating force in our home. I would interpret my husband's deep love as pathetic weakness and despise him for it. So it is the work of Christ and His love in my heart which makes me receptive to the loving influence of my husband.

So it is the Gospel of Jesus Christ that makes a Christian husband excellent. Specifically it is the husband living in his own home as Christ did when He walked on this earth, loving, serving, humbling Himself for His church. And it is the Gospel again, working in the heart of a wife, which leads her to treasure the love of her husband, seeing in it the reflection of that Savior she so adores and relies upon. It is this that shapes her into a godly wife. And it is these two, living as one, sacrificing for each other that become a living picture of the God's self-sacrificial love for all the world to see.

Riches to Share

2011-01-23T13:46:00.000-08:00

It's been a long while since I've offered up a collection of influences that have had significance in my recent life. That is partly a result of there being fewer of them. I am spending more time in Scripture and a few good books, and less spreading the internet dragnet. So what I have here is close to six months' accumulation.

Sanctity of Life

Because today is known as "Sanctity of Life" Sunday. I've chosen to begin the list with my own testimony regarding abortion first published here a year ago.

Christian Discernment

This sermon series on Christian discernment was preached in the church I attend, and has transformed my life, teaching me how to discern what teachings, teachers, and ideas of all kinds and all sources to submit my conscience to. I'm still integrating the things I've learned through it and am becoming increasingly able to take my own thoughts and ideas captive to the obedience of Christ, as well as taking responsibility for the maintaining of a healthy conscience.

Christian Discernment, by Pastor Matthew Raley

The following is a blog entry from Dan at Cerulean Sanctum which complements the series above nicely: Making Sense of Confusing Voices

Honoring God with your Wealth

It's a rare day when I've heard a sermon focused on financial matters in the Christian life which has left me feeling blessed and encouraged. Yet I spent two rare Sundays at the beginning of this year doing just that. See if you aren't blessed as well.

Loving Disagreement

Finally, a short blog entry from John Armstrong, a man whose ministry and heart for unity in the body of Christ has been an ongoing source of encouragement for me: On Delivering Reproof in Love.

There Sits a Man Enthroned in Heaven

2011-01-16T18:11:00.000-08:00

There Sits a Man Enthroned in Heaven

by Laurie Mathers

Image via Wikimedia Commons

Truly God revealed from Heaven
eternal wisdom in all He has made,
Investing in man His own divine image
granting him reason, to will and obey.

Ancient days found Satan in Heaven
directing in beauty God's worship by all,
Until the day his own glory caught him,
blinded by pride he rebelled and did fall.

Straight to mankind he took his deception:
Sweetness is found in what God forbids;
His decree intended to keep you from wisdom
To rob you of glory and true godliness.

Each moment after found man discontent
with all of creation and God's precious words.
Revelation that day was robbed of its blessing,
sin in mankind changed God's blessing to curse

Then promised God, a seed from the woman,
to rise up and crush the evil one's head.
Creation would then sing again of His glory
and God's Word again give life to the dead.

In Christ God rejoins mankind with His image,
in time through a woman His Son would be born
In death He would bear the rebellion of many
in new life reveal the beauty of love.

There now sits a Man enthroned in the Heavens,
interceding ever for humankind there.
Such dignity God has bestowed on His people
clothed in their flesh, ever bearing their prayers.

Exploring the Integrity of God & His Revelation, with Browne (and Browne)

2011-01-16T14:47:00.000-08:00

http://www.literarynorfolk.co.uk/sir_thomas_browne.htm

As you may have gathered from my last post, I've thoroughly enjoyed my time spent with Thomas Browne's Religio Medici. I wish I could adequately express what his little book had done for me. But I'll settle today for this: I can thank Sir Thomas Browne for reminding me of the reason I ever loved theology in the first place, and why, too, in the same space and breath I adore science and never do find that it threatens my faith. Both are studies of the revelation of the Creator, both dedicated to beauty and complexity so rich that they require an eternity to comprehend. Both hold riches grand enough to inspire everlasting awe... And yet, sadly, until recently I've felt my own sense of delight in both God and His works fading.

The loveliness of God, in every revelation of Himself, is clouded into obscurity by the slightest hint of human pride and ambition, and, I might add, cynicism. Both theology and science, in their purest forms, are a labors of love and attract like moths to flame those with the eyes and imaginations of little children. But either, when used to destroy the other loses its very heart and soul. You see, God, though Three, is One. All that God does bears the same integrity as His own person. Nothing He does contradicts Himself. Thus God's revelation is not to be used to disprove God's revelation. Just as it is inherently destructive to pit Scripture against Scripture, so it is to pit theology against science, or vice versa. Each is God's revelation. They stand together, whole, whether our reason can grasp it or not.

In Thomas Browne's Religio Medici I was lured afresh to the light of the beauty of the witness of God in both.

Each of us who believes has our own set of eyes. Each is uniquely gifted with abilities, and also limited by the wiring of our own personalities. This means each of us will be attracted more particularly this or that aspect of the beauty of God. Browne was no different. As a Christian, a gifted intellectual, and a man of science he found himself particularly intrigued by two of God's attributes in particular: His wisdom and His eternal nature.

"With the one I recreate, with the other I confound, my understanding: for who can speak of eternity without a solecism, or think thereof without an ecstasy?....God hath not made a creature that can comprehend him; 'tis a privilege of his own nature: 'I am that I am' was his own definition unto Moses; and 'twas a short one to confound mortality, that durst question God, or ask him what he was. Indeed he only is; all others have and shall be; but, in eternity, there is no distinction of tenses....What to us is to come, to his eternity is present; his whole duration being but one permanent point, without succession, parts, flux, or division....

"There is no attribute that adds more difficulty to the mystery of the Trinity, where, though in a relative way of Father and Son, we must deny a priority." Religio Medici

On reading this last statement I was driven by curiosity to my copy of An Exposition of the Thirty-Nine Articles, by one Edward Harold Browne to find out just what Anglican doctrine is in regard to the Trinity, and in so-doing I found my own smoldering delight in theology being unexpectedly fanned once again into flame. Mr. E. H. Browne explains that the only priority existing in the Godhead is one of order, not of nature or power. As the ancient meaning of the word "head" did not include any understanding of the function of the brain, it was never then used to refer to a control center or seat of authority, but rather it referred to a "source". This helps us more clearly understand that statement that God is the Head of Christ.

"This eternal generation they [the orthodox church fathers] held to be a proof that He was of one substance and eternity with the Father; but the relation of Father to Son they held to constitute a priority of order, though not of nature or power. They held, that is, not that the Son was, in His nature as God, in any degree different from, or inferior to the Father; but that, as the Father alone was the source and fountain of Deity, the Son having been begotten, and the Spirit proceeding, so there was a subordination, without diversity, of the Son to the Father, and of the Spirit to the Father and the Son. It may be difficult to conceive of priority of order, without being led to believe in superiority of nature....

"God's eternal perfections He, from all eternity, communicated to His Son. 'So also the Divine Essence, being by reason of its simplicity not subject to division, and in respect of its infinity incapable of multiplication, is so communicated as not to be multiplied, insomuch that He, which proceedeth by that communication, hath not only the same nature, but is also the same God....'" (An Exposition of the Thirty-Nine Articles. The final quote is from Pearson's, On the Creed)

Thus Christ is wholly and ever God, equipped in His very nature with all the attributes of God including His eternity and wisdom. And so, understanding his Anglican doctrine more clearly, I drift back to the lovely devotional meditations of the first Browne on the wisdom of this God. This God does not deliberate within Himself. He is of one mind. There is no part in Him which inherently thinks one way and then convinces or commands the rest to obey. He is One though three, complete in His integrity, and so is the wisdom revealed in each revelation of Himself distinct, yet a complementary whole.

"Wisdom is his most beauteous attribute: no man can attain unto it: yet Solomon pleased God when he desired it. He is wise, because he knows all things; and he knoweth all things, because he made them all: but his greatest knowledge is in comprehending that he made not, that is, himself. And this is also the greatest knowledge in man....I know God is wise in all; wonderful in what we conceive, but far more in what we comprehend not: for we behold him but asquint, upon reflex or shadow...therefore to pry into the maze of his counsels is not only folly in man, but presumption even in angels....he holds no counsel, but that mystical one of the Trinity, wherein, though there be three persons there is but one mind that decrees without contradiction. Nor needs he any; his actions are not begot with deliberation; his wisdom naturally knows what's best: his intellect stands ready fraught with the superlative and purest ideas of goodness, consultations, and election, which are two motions in us, make but one in him: his actions springing from his power at the first touch of his will. Religio Medici

I cannot help but wonder here if one of the follies T. Browne had in mind was debate over the "Order of Decrees" even now dickered over in Calvinist circles. But, then, I'm now the one speculating. And since it is even greater hubris to speculate into the mind of God, and since we cannot know of God what He has not chosen to reveal to us, Thomas Browne prefers to commit himself wholly to all the ways in which God has revealed Himself. These include both Scripture and His work of creation, and so Browne does not take the misstep so common in our day of divorcing science from faith. He does not fear study or education. On the contrary, for him it is that joyous duty we call worship:

"...my humble speculations have another method, and are content to trace and discover those expressions he hath left in his creatures, and the obvious effects of nature. There is no danger to profound these mysteries, no sanctum sanctorum in philosophy. The world was made to be inhabited by beasts, but studied and contemplated by man: 'tis the debt of our reason we owe unto God, and the homage we pay for not being beasts. Without this, the world is still as thought it had not been, or as it was before the sixth day, when as yet there was not a creature that could conceive or say there was a world. The wisdom of God receives small honour from those vulgar heads that rudely stare about and with a gross rusticity admire his works. Those highly magnify him, whose judicious enquiry into his acts, and deliberate research into his creatures return the duty of a devout and learned admiration." Religio Medici

The desire to understand whatever God reveals of Himself burns in the bellies of we who love Him. It becomes no less than a labor of love to study and chase after Him with all our might. God revealed first to mankind His power, wisdom, eternal nature, and providential care first in Creation. Upon the fall of man into sin He revealed Himself further as a righteous yet merciful judge and lover of mankind through His prophets, and ultimately and most personally in His incarnation in Christ. In Christ He surpasses all other revelation. In Him He not only reveals Himself to man, but eternally embraces him, taking once and for all time our very created nature upon Himself:

"Again, the end and purpose of the union, whereby the Son of God took the nature of man, being that He might join together God and men, Himself both God and man, and the necessity of such conjunction never ceasing, it follows that the union of the natures shall never cease. It is through the instrumentality of Christ's humanity that man is united to God. When the union has been effected, we cannot suppose that the bond will be destroyed, the link annihilated. It is by virtue of incorporation into Christ's Body, that the saints shall rise and reign because of It." Exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles

And so, as God is one in His person, and is glorified in every revelation of Himself, so we glorify Him as we seek to know the whole of who He is, through all of His works, using the whole of who we are - with all our feelings, our intellect, and every ounce of our energy.

Religio Medici

2011-01-12T21:07:00.000-08:00

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My dear husband is a literary man to his core. As such he thinks it great fun to take on reading programs. He recently finished the 10 Essential Penguin Classics series as a reading group on his blog. Concurrently with this he has also dedicated himself to "Dr. Eliot's Five Foot Shelf", now more commonly known as the Harvard Classics. Dr. Eliot was known for claiming that anyone could have the equivalent of a Harvard education by spending fifteen minutes a day reading from a five foot shelf of books. Publisher P.F. Collier and Son thought they smelled a profit and challenged the man to select the books. And so, one hundred years later, my dear Paul, upon learning of this collection, and finding it all five feet of it available for free rent in our local library, decided it was time he got a no-cost Harvard education.

I should mention here that my husband has a keen intellect and is a quick reader. He absorbs these writings and then wants to talk about them. Thus, being his partner in life, I find myself on the receiving end of a lot of book talk. I feel rich! My only complaint is that I cannot keep up. My mind is capable but not as nimble as his. It takes me longer to wrap my head around ideas and many more readings to retain them. But wanting to contribute to the conversation, which is what he really wants most from me as his wife, and to be on the same proverbial page from time to time, means I need to read at least some of what he does. And so, sometimes I do. Which is what I'm getting to with all this chatter.

What usually ends up happening is that I end up reading the books Paul talks about the most, or the occasional book that he actually tells me he wants me to read. Religio Medici (The Religion of a Doctor), by Sir Thomas Browne, is both of those books. Paul just kept talking about it, and said I should read it. So I did. Every so often I find a work that so resonates with my own experiences and a writer so simpatico I just can't stop reading. This is one of those books. The fact that it was written over 350 years ago and yet feels so timely just adds to the wonder of it. So, desiring to interact further with Browne (read that, "wanting to write in the margins and dog-ear the corners") I requested a copy of my own for my Christmas stocking, (did you know sometimes Santa gets behind schedule and when he does he uses the U.S. Postal Service?) and now I'm reading it again.

And all these words serve as explanation and excuse for the fact that I want to share and discuss bits of Religio Medici here, in hopes that you'll be as delighted, encouraged, and challenged as I have been, perhaps even so much so that you'll trot off and purchase a copy of your own.

Thomas Browne, an Anglican (yes, although un-premeditated, I do seem to be on a bit of an Anglican kick of late), a scholar and a doctor, published Religio Medici in 1643. Though published during the tumultuous period of the English Civil War and that odd period of English governance known as the Long Parliament Browne manages to be both the very voice of reason, temperance, tolerance, and civility and uncompromising in his particular reformed version of the Anglican faith. (Truth be told, if you didn't know at what time he was living you would barely guess he was surrounded by conflict at all.) Although nearly forgotten these days, his book was wildly popular throughout Europe at the time of its release, and highly influential. It was considered by Virginia Woolf, for instance, to be the precursor to the modern personal memoir and confessional. It is, though, hardly a diary so much as it is the personal confession of faith and values of a man steadied by deep Christian conviction and solid reason.

My struggle in writing, to be perfectly honest, is first in not knowing where to begin and then in not knowing where to stop. So I suppose dear prudence would dictate that I begin with the beginning, take a look around and see what comes of it.

Browne begins by declaring himself, in spite of what his contemporaries (and our own) might assume based upon his profession as a scholar and doctor, a Christian. And not just a nominal Christian, but a truly convinced one (but, he is quick to add, one that does not forget his debt of love to those who are not believers). He goes on to narrow himself down to a Protestant Christian, and yet one who is not contentious against the Catholic church left behind:

"We have reformed from them, not against them....there is between us one common name and appellation, one faith and necessary body of principles common to us both; and therefore I am not scrupulous to converse and live with them, to enter their churches in defect of our, and either pray with them or for them."

He does not mock their practices or wish to see their images of saints and martyrs defaced. He views what he considers their errors charitably, as he does the Pope:

"I confess there is a cause of passion between us - by his sentence I stand excommunicated: heretic is the best language he affords me: yet can no ear witness I ever returned to him the name of antichrist, man of sin, or whore of Babylon. It is the method of charity to suffer without reaction: those usual satired and invectives of the pulpit may perchance produce a good effect on the vulgar, whose ears are opener to rhetoric than logic; yet do they, in no wise, confirm the faith of wiser believers, who know that a good cause needs not be pardoned by passion, but can sustain itself upon a temperate dispute."

All this spoken in a time and place when great animosity between the factions remained, a fact that he alludes to only obliquely. He sums up the Reformation circumspectly and succinctly, clearly with the ideal of Christian unity in the forefront of his mind:

"As there were many reformers, so likewise many reformations; every country proceeding in a particular way and method, according as their national interest, together with their constitution and clime, inclined them: some angrily and with extremity; others calmly and with mediocrity, not rending, but easily dividing, the community, and leaving an honest possibility of a reconciliation; - which, though peaceable spirits do desire, and may conceive that revolution of time and the mercies of God may effect, yet that judgment that shall consider the present antipathies between the two extremes, - their contrarieties in condition, affection, and opinion, - may, with the same hopes, expect a union in the poles of heaven."

And then he brings a finer point to his position: He is an Anglican, a devout one, not by external compulsion, but by free and deep agreement with her articles of faith. Beyond these articles of the Church of England he depends upon his reason:

"...whatsoever is beyond, as points indifferent, I observe, according to the rules of my private reason, or the humour and fashion of my devotion; neither believing this because Luther affirmed it, nor disproving that because Calvin had disavouched it. I condemn not all things in the council of Trent, nor approve all in the synod of Dort. In brief, where the Scripture is silent, the church is my text; where that speaks, 'tis but my comment; where there is a joint silence of both, I borrow not the rules of my religion from Rome or Geneva, but from the dictates of my own reason."

And so he goes on, determining not to divide from anyone over a difference of opinion because wisdom has taught him that opinions are prone to change. He has also learned it best not to involve himself in "disputes in religion" particularly when he feels himself not up to doing the subject justice, or when his understanding is still unsteady, having not yet withstood the test of time.

"Every man is not a proper champion for truth, nor fit to take up the gauntlet in the cause of verity; many, from the ignorance of these maxims, and an inconsiderate zeal unto truth, have too rashly charged the troops of error and remain as trophies unto the enemies of truth. A man may be in as just possession of truth as of a city, and yet be forced to surrender; 'tis therefore far better to enjoy her with peace than to hazard her on a battle. If, therefore, there rise any doubts in my way, I do forget them, or at least defer them, till my better settled judgment and more manly reason be able to resolve them...."

In other words, is not wise to allow oneself to be blown about too wildly with questions and ideas. Let them be for a while and see what comes of them, if they will still remain after several storms and tides have come and gone. All the meanwhile rest upon the steady ship Scripture and the orthodox and historic truths of the Christian faith to keep oneself from shipwreck. Browne's practice is one I can heartily recommend, having been through some storms of my own of late. What has kept me from being dashed on the rocks has been the anchor of Scripture and the ancient and orthodox understandings encapsulated in the Apostles' and Nicene Creeds.

So perhaps this is enough Browne to chew on for one day. I hope you've enjoyed this little taste. I've little doubt I'll have more to share in the future. In the meantime I highly recommend you acquire yourself a copy of this nearly forgotten historical little treasure of literature, wisdom, gentle humor, and sincere devotion.

"It is finished!" ...and I am free...

2010-12-31T00:51:00.000-08:00

What can I say?

I've been set free.

It's as simple as that.

It's been a long time coming,

but the simplest of truths has finally filled

my thick skull

with peace.

For nearly as long as I've been a Christian I've grappled with the subject of legalism and the Old Covenant Law. I've read so much and heard so many sermons on the subject and all the while the waters have only grown murkier and my confusion greater. I've heard there are those who disregard the Old Testament entirely, seeing it as useless, something we ought not even bother ourselves with. But, to be honest, in all my years in various church settings (from Pentecostal to Reformed Baptist) I've never, ever met anyone who believes that way. No, what I've encountered are a variety of Christians from a variety of traditions all claiming to be "Bible-believing" struggling, generally with all sincerity, to figure out what to do with the Old Testament in light of the New.

What seems to be the nearly universal practice is a combination of cutting and pasting portions or attitudes from the Old Covenant onto the New. The portions cut and locations pasted differ based upon the traditions and opinions of whoever is doing the editing. The messages I've gotten have been mixed and confusing. Some churches, like the Judaizers of old, require their members to incorporate all of the Old Testament regulations, excluding only the ceremonial portions (priesthood, animal sacrifices, festivals, etc.) Others exclude all portions of the Law save its moral prohibitions: the Ten Commandments along with whichever "secondary" restrictions they find they agree with, say, forbidding tattoos for instance. Others by and large disregard the regulations of the Law, with the exception of the Ten Commandments and then substitute their own system of "Christian" law restricting behaviors never restricted under the Old Covenant (drinking alcoholic beverages, social dancing, women wearing pants or working outside the home, and divorce in cases of adultery, to name a few) and converting the New Testament into a new system of super-spiritual laws by which to judge ourselves and one another. Many still teach that the Old Testament system of blessing and cursing applies to believers today. The blessings are for when they do right, the cursings for when they commit sin. Some believe that the Old Testament Law is God's way of governing men and that it should be replicated in civil government (though I've yet to hear anyone seeking to legislate against covetousness...we've got the economy to consider after all). Some believe that just as God sent before He sent the Gospel, that we Christians must bring the Law to bear on people before we can proclaim the Gospel.

At various points in my life I've been subjected to, or even adhered to nearly every one of these teachings, and various combinations of them. Some of them have come very near to destroying my faith. If you've never experienced this confusion I hope you'll consider yourself blessed and forgive my thick-headedness as I reveal to you the simple truth that has transformed my life.

The simple fact is this:

The Old Covenant is not mine.

I am not now,

never have been,or ever will be

a party to it.

The God of the universe is a covenant making God. For reasons clear only to Himself He chose to create man and throughout human history has chosen to involve Himself personally with mankind, binding Himself to humanity, to individuals, and to groups of individuals by means of a variety of covenants. Throughout history it has been essential that God's people understand the nature and stipulations of the particular covenants which govern their relationship to Him.

Once upon a time, after the days of the Flood, God made a covenant with Noah, and presumably with the earth, that the seasons would commence predictably for as long as the earth remains and that He would never again destroy the whole earth with a flood. The rainbow was given as the sign of that covenant. I, as a resident of this earth and a descendant of Noah, am a beneficiary of that covenant, though it was not made with me personally, and I am not bound by it in any way. (See Genesis 8:20-22)

Once upon a later time God made a covenant with Abram (Genesis 15), God himself being the only party to walk between the cut animals of the offering, He accepted all the responsibility for the keeping of the covenant. In other words, as far as Abram was concerned it was unconditional. God, without requiring anything from Abram in return, promised to make Abram the father of a multitude and to give his descendants the land of Canaan. Abram "believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness." It would be more than a decade before God would return to Abram to renew and expand the earlier covenant and to give Abram a new name, Abraham - father of a multitude. Circumcision was given as the seal of that covenant.

image via World Mission Collection

"And God said to Abraham, 'As for you, you shall keep my covenant, you and your offspring after you throughout their generations. This is my covenant, which you shall keep, between me and you and your offspring after you: Every male among you shall be circumcised.... Any uncircumcised male who is not circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin shall be cut off from his people; he has broken my covenant.'" (Gen. 17:9-10,14)

I was not a participant of that very personal covenant between God and Abraham, but I am, according to the apostle Paul, part of the fulfillment of it, an heir, if you will.

"For the promise to Abraham and his offspring that he would be heir of the world did not come through the law but through the righteousness of faith. For if it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. For the law brings wrath, but where there is no law there is no transgression.

"That is why it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his offspring - not only to the adherent of the law but also to the one who shared the faith of Abraham, who is the father of us all, as it is written, "I have made you the father of many nations'..." (Romans 4:13-17a)

Because I share the faith of Abraham, I am in God's eyes the offspring of Abraham who is "the father of all who believe without being circumcised, so that righteousness would be counted to them as well." (Romans 4:11b) Through faith I am a spiritual child of Abraham and heir to the righteousness God added to him. I am one of the multitude of offspring God promised him. This covenant makes no demand upon me, yet through faith I am a product of it.

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Later still, in the days of Moses, God intervened yet again in the world of humans making a covenant with the Hebrews. This covenant is what has come to be known as the Old Covenant, or the Old Testament. Included in that covenant was what we've come to refer to as the Mosaic Law. In the centuries that passed between Moses and Christ there was no other way to enter into covenant relationship with God than through this Law. If anyone who was not a Jew wished to be included in God's people they could, but only by entering into this covenant and submitting to all of its regulations, including circumcision. The only way to God was through Judaism and the faithful keeping of the Old Testament Law with all its commands, regulations, observations, and sacrifices.

I am not a Jew.

God did not covenant with me through Moses.

God came to me through Christ.

Christ is the fulfillment of the Law and the completion of the Old Covenant. His death and resurrection has rendered that Old Covenant obsolete (Hebrews 8:13). Just as a widow is no longer bound by the covenant of marriage to her dead husband, so no one is bound any longer by the Old Covenant:

"Likewise my brothers, you also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God. For while we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in or members to bear fruit for death. But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we may serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code." (Romans 7:4-6)

The scales have dropped from my eyes.

Like a marriage ended by death,

that Old Covenant is closed,

finished, obsolete.

There is no turning back.

God has brought it to its legal end in Christ.

What had seemed foggy is now crystal clear:

Why Paul reacted so violently to any attempts to bring the Law to the Gentiles:

"For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, "Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them. Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for 'The righteous shall live by faith.' But the law is not of faith..." (Gal. 3:10-12a)

"I testify again to every man who accepts circumcision that he is obligated to keep the whole law." (Gal. 5:3)

Once we attempt to submit ourselves to the Law we find ourselves bound by the whole of it, with all its regulations, blessings, and cursings.

Why the veil in the temple in two when Jesus cried "It is finished!"

Why the temple was destroyed in the very lifetime of those who'd witnessed Christ's sacrifice. There would be no more sacrifices. That covenant is over.

Why Paul was so vehemently opposed to anyone who sought to bring the Law to the Gentiles.

"O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified. Let me ask you only this: Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law or by hearing with faith? Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh? Did you suffer so many things in vain—if indeed it was in vain? Does he who supplies the Spirit to you and works miracles among you do so by works of the law, or by hearing with faith— " (Galatians 3:1-5)

It was not their covenant. It never was. God has authored a New Covenant in His blood. We don't need to subject Gentiles to the Law before we can introduce them to grace.

"For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them on that day when, according to my gospel, God judges the secrets of men by Christ Jesus." Romans 2:14-16 (see also Romans 1:18-32)

Nor, we learn from Paul, is it necessary to farm the Old Covenant to learn to live in the New.

"Likewise, my brothers, you also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God. For while we were living in the flesh, our sinful passions, aroused by the law, were at work in our members to bear fruit for death. But now we are released from the law, having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code." Romans 7:4-6 (emphasis mine)

Now I can discern the use Jesus makes of the Law in his teachings. He came first to the Jews, those He was in covenant with, teaching them, showing them from the Law their need for a New Covenant. When Jesus gave the Sermon on the Mount, He was not establishing a tougher law. He was teaching the people of the Law from the Law to lead them to Himself, the fulfillment of the Old Covenant and Sacrifice and High Priest of the New.

Now I can make sense of the differences in the approaches Paul takes between Jews and Gentiles. So much of his time addressing Jews is spent convincing them to let go of the Old, that it isn't necessary and that it is so inferior, that the Holy Spirit will direct them and the Gentiles in New Covenant living, that grace will not cause sin to abound, that His law is now written on the hearts of believers and that obedience to it will come from an internal loving response not following letters of laws, that the New Covenant is vastly different and infinitely better. (Oh, please, do hurry right now to read the book of Hebrews!)

Now I know what it means that there is no condemnation in Christ. Now I can discern the difference between a ministry of condemnation and one of reconciliation.

"...you show that you are a letter from Christ...written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts. Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.

"Now if the ministry of death, carved in letters on stone, came with such glory that the Israelites could not gaze at Moses' face because of its glory, which was being brought to an end, will not the ministry of the Spirit have even more glory? For if there was glory in the ministry of condemnation, the ministry of righteousness must far exceed it in glory. Indeed, in this case, what once had glory has come to have no glory at all, because of the glory that surpasses it. For if what was being brought to an end came with glory, much more will what is permanent have glory.

"Since we have such a hope, we are very bold...." (2 Cor. 3:7-11)

Reconciled to God!

No longer cringing,

free to love Him

His Spirit filling my heart

with hope.

Now, full of joy, I can go forth as a minister, not of condemnation but of reconciliation to God. Oh, my friends, there is no condemnation in Christ. Run to Him and find peace with God who has bound Himself to mankind for all eternity in the person of His Son and by the New Covenant in His blood.

image via stpatricksseminary.org

_______________________________

By way of a post-script I would like to mention, briefly, that I am in no way suggesting we remove the Old Testaments from our Bibles. There is much to be learned from those earlier books, about God, about ourselves, about the history of God with man, and about the meaning of our own blessed Covenant. Perhaps I'll write more on that another time.

The Bedtime Prayer of Sir Thomas Browne

2010-12-27T23:05:00.000-08:00

I've just this evening finished reading Sir Thomas Browne's Religio Medici. You're safe to assume I'll have more to say about that great work here sometime soon. But, as prayer, of late, has become the unplanned focus here (and in my life) I thought I'd share what Browne refers to as "the Dormative I take to bedward; I need no other Laudanum than this to make me sleep; after which I close mine eyes in security, content to take my leave of the Sun, and sleep unto the Resurrection."

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The night is come, like to the day,
Depart not Thou, great God, away.
Let not my sins, black as the night,
Eclipse the lustre of Thy light:
Keep still in my Horizon; for to me
The Sun makes not the day, but Thee.
Thou, Whose nature cannot sleep,
On my temples Centry keep;
Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes,
Whose eyes are open while mine close.
Let no dreams my head infest,
But such as Jacob's temples blest.
While I do rest, my Soul advance;
Make my sleep a holy trance;
That I may, my rest being wrought,
Awake into some holy thought;
and with as active vigour run
My course, as doth the nimble Sun.
Sleep is a death; O make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die;
And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.
However I rest, great God, let me
Awake again at last with Thee;
And thus assur'd, behold I lie
Securely, or to awake or die.
These are my drowsie days; in vain
I do not wake to sleep again:
O come that hour, when I shall never
Sleep again, but wake forever.

It seems to me that I recall my dear husband requesting those last two lines as his epitaph.

Prayer For a New Mother

2010-12-25T23:04:00.000-08:00

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Prayer For a New Mother
by Dorothy Parker

The things she knew, let her forget again-
The voices in the sky, the fear, the cold,
The gaping shepherds, and the queer old men
Piling their clumsy gifts of foreign gold.

Let her have laughter with her little one;
Teach her the endless, tuneless songs to sing,
Grant her her right to whisper to her son
The foolish names one dare not call a king.

Keep from her dreams the rumble of a crowd,
The smell of rough-cut wood, the trail of red,
The thick and chilly whiteness of the shroud
That wraps the strange new body of the dead.

Ah, let her go, kind Lord, where mothers go
And boast his pretty words and ways, and plan
The proud and happy years that they shall know
Together, when her son is grown a man.

Another round - some new favorite cleaning products

2010-12-09T19:25:00.000-08:00

These days I've been almost too busy to think, let alone write. But, since it's what I do for a living, I do find time to clean. Plenty of time. Because I'm not made of money I don't test drive a whole lot of products. I really hate buying things and finding out I've just wasted my hard earned money on junk. But, every so often the planets line up in just such a way that I end up trying something new. Over the last year I've come across a handful of new products I can add to my list of Things I Hope I Won't Ever Have to Do Without. And, to make up for the recent shortage of soul fodder here, I'll dish up my latest recommendations free of charge.*

First off, Orange Pledge.

In my last list of products recommendations I featured Endust. I will not take back what I said. It is a great product. But Orange Pledge has taken its place in my heart. Anyone who's ever asked knows that I can't stand Lemon Pledge. It's waxy and leaves a build-up. So when I took on a new client a few months back who told me her former cleaner used it for her marble counters I was dubious. But then I looked at her counters. Like glass! Beautiful, with the smooth protected feel of a car that's been recently waxed. So, I ran with it. It is not only great for marble and/or granite counters, but, like Endust, it leaves a silky, like-new finish on stainless steel sinks and appliances. And then, of course, you can use it on even the most reflective wood furniture surfaces. (Yes, it is a furniture polish after all.) Add to all this the really pleasant smell and you have a uniquely versatile product for a much more reasonable price than all those specialty products.

My next pick is a big-ticket item. My favorite vacuum cleaner. Now, to be fair, I have not worked with all the other high-end brands and so am not comparing this to those. I'll leave that up to you. I read and searched when it came time to select a new vacuum. For two decades my family used an old 1970's model Hoover. When, in the 90's, it finally went the way of all the earth I thought, "Hoover's always been good to me. Look at how long this old gal worked!" Then off I went to pick up a new Hoover. What I didn't realize is that the vacuum industry, Hoover included, had changed a few things over the years - first and foremost the quality of their vacuums. Apparently they decided that vacuums should be like razors - disposable. I was horribly disappointed and went through three of them in a decade.

Another change that came along while I was still happily dancing with my old Hoover was that remarkable invention known as the "bagless" vacuum. The industry was overrun by them, so I assumed they must be good and I must have one. Goodness knows I always hated having to buy those bags every year or so - a huge inconvenience, right? So I made the switch. Three bagless vacs (of my own, not to mention a dozen or so client vacs) later I realized I'd been duped. (Now, I know many will disagree with me on this. Please don't bother to try to change my mind. I do this for a living. I know from vacuums. If you love your bagless I give you permission to keep on loving it.) I vowed never to own another bagless machine. In case you're interested in my reasons I'll list them.

Wimpy - they just aren't as powerful. In a vacuum sucking is a good thing.
Messy - nothing like cleaning a house to a lovely shine then going to empty the vacuum cup and having dust billow up and over all the surfaces within three feet, as well as all over the vacuum. And then there are the filters. They have to be cleaned and/or replaced very frequently. Far more frequently than a bag needs to be replaced.
Touchy - I've found almost every bagless I've used prone to clogs and overheating. One was so bad that I could never finish a whole house even one time without overheating.
Fragile - Vacuums are very simple mechanical items. A child should be able to take one apart and put it back together simply, possibly even without tools, but at the very least with just a screwdriver. Belts should be easy to replace and all other routine maintenance - even removing clogs should be simple. This has seldom been the case with any bagless I've owned. I've found many of them will clog in a place that is inaccessible. Another thing is, I have no patience for plastic parts that break. I've gotten really tired of the clips that hold attachments breaking off. I should not have to handle a vacuum with kid gloves.
Time wasting - The cup on a bagless has to be emptied at least once, and often several times in the middle of just one vacuum job. My friends, this is ridiculous. Some homes I clean require me to empty it THREE times in one visit - each time scattering more dust. Someone told me once that it was because they pick up more than the ones with the bag, but that is not the case. The truth is, the bag compacts the dirt. A full bag weighs a lot. A full cup weighs next to nothing. In my own home I can vacuum many times, possibly a dozen or more (I've never counted) with one bag. With a bagless I had to empty it twice each time and then clean the cup and the filters. I do not want a cleaning machine than I have to spend 15 minutes cleaning when I'm done using it.

Okay, so I've got a strong opinion. Take it for what it's worth.

Anyway, back to my choice: a Riccar. Two of my clients have vacuums that have lasted more than five years. Believe it or not, this has become an exception, not the rule. Both of them were Riccars. I thought back over the years I've used them and could recall no problems with them, ever. I considered the several hundreds of dollars I've wasted on vacuums over the last decade and did the math. I settled for a mid-priced Riccar. I've used it for a full year before bringing this glowing report. It has given me no trouble except one clog. And that clog was refreshingly easy to correct. The belt can be changed without tools, though I haven't had to change mine yet. It is wildly powerful. It's cord is very long and nicely flexible. (I hate those stiff vacuum cords.) The attachments are easy to use. After a whole year not a single piece has broken. I'm ridiculously happy with my Riccar vacuum.

Next, I am happy to report I've found something I like even better than my trusty Bio-Clean water spot remover. It's much cheaper and requires much less product to get the job done. Purchased when I was in a pinch and my supplier was closed for an obscure holiday, here it is:

Bruce's GSR, Glass Water Spot & Stain Remover - Heavy Duty Brown.

I tried this the other day on a dingy patch in an otherwise lovely porcelain sink - a patch that even a razor wouldn't scrape off. I was truly flummoxed. A small smear of this on a scrubby sponge polished it off in a few seconds and left the whole sink looking like new - a thing of beauty. I love when that happens! Bruce's GSR, where have you been all my life?

(As with any product, test in an inconspicuous area first.)

Finally, this may be old news to some of you, but so what. I only just tried my first microfiber cleaning cloth a few weeks ago, and only because they had a 12-pack of them on sale at Cash & Carry for only $7. For that price I figured they were worth trying out. I wasn't even sure, really, what they were for, and I still haven't tried them out on everything yet. I'll say right now, though, that they were worth the money for use as dust cloths alone. A single cloth can dust an entire house, and then some, with no other product necessary. Great for pianos and other highly reflective surfaces as well as cloth surfaces like lampshades. The only downside is that touching them with my bare skin makes my hair stand on end, almost literally. My daughter calls fabrics like this "hangnail material". Perfect description. I'm trying to work past the aversion to the feel of them gradually, wearing gloves when I just can't stand it anymore. (Tip: do not use fabric softener when washing or drying these cloths. You will defeat the whole purpose.)

So, there's my gift to all of you my friends. I know how much you all enjoy my unsolicited advice!

*Please note, I do not now and never have received any compensation for featuring products on my blog. If I did or ever do, I will let you know.

Hope is the sweetest gift of all

2010-12-06T21:55:00.000-08:00

As I continue sifting, combing, and nit-picking away at several partially written blog entries which I can't seem either to untangle, de-bug, or find the loose ends which need tying up, I thought I'd leave you with some words of hope and comfort, from a book sent to me recently from half a continent away by a dear Christian brother.

"Prayer mirrors the gospel. In the gospel, the Father takes us as we are because of Jesus and gives us his gift of salvation. In prayer, the Father receives us as we are because of Jesus and gives us his gift of help. We look at the inadequacy of our praying and give up, thinking something is wrong with us. God looks at the adequacy of his Son and delights in our sloppy, meandering prayers.....

"We tell ourselves, 'Strong Christians pray a lot. If I were a strong Christian, I'd pray more.' Strong Christians do pray more, but they pray more because they realize how weak they are. They don't try to hide it from themselves. Weakness is the channel that allows them to access grace....

"As we mature as Christians, we see more and more of our sinful natures, but at the same time we see more and more of Jesus. As we see our weaknesses more clearly, we begin to grasp our need for more grace....

"The gospel uses my weakness as the door to God's grace. That is how grace works....

"Less mature Christians have little need to pray. When they look at their hearts (which they rarely do), they seldom see jealousy. They are barely aware of their impatience. Instead, they are frustrated by all the slow people they keep running into. Less mature Christians are quick to give advice. There is no complexity to their worlds because the answers are simple - 'just do what I say, and your life will be easier.' I know all this because the 'they' I've been talking about is actually 'me.' That is what I'm naturally like without Jesus.....

"Surprisingly, mature Christians feel less mature on the inside. When they hear Jesus say, 'Apart from me you can do nothing' (John 15:5), they nod in agreement. They reflect on all the things they've done without Jesus, which have become nothing. Mature Christians are keenly aware that they can't raise their kids. It's a no-brainer. Even if they are perfect parents, they still can't get inside their kid's hearts. That's why strong Christians pray more."

Paul E. Miller - A Praying Life

Thanks to simplemann for the gift that's teaching me to come to Christ like a little one again.

Speechless

2010-11-23T23:20:00.000-08:00

He brought me here to make very sure
I would never take it lightly again
that I would feel it deep in my soul
that pat answers will never do.

He's stripped them all away.
I can't hide behind them any more
and I stand here naked in my mind
the world's evil gazing upon me.

Helpless I begin to see it
for what it really is. It is evil.
My heart for once perceives
the terror of its malice.

And here, exposed, I know it,
that speechlessness without which
I am unfit to speak
to the subject of evil in this world.

Political Correctness and the Gospel

2010-11-11T23:05:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up children were taught to address adults formally as: Mrs. ___, Mr. ____, Miss _____, or maam, miss, or sir, for short. Back then that was then how adults preferred to be addressed by youngsters as well as by those in service professions. In those days it was considered rude for anyone to address any adult by first name unless permission had been given to do so. These customs were in place to show respect for individuals. Customs have changed over the decades. Nowadays most adults seem uncomfortable with formal titles, preferring to be addressed casually in most situations. It's not my intent at the moment to place a value judgment on that change (that's a topic for another day), but to note that, when it comes down to it, the reason we seldom use those formal titles now is the same as the reason we seldom failed to use them a generation ago: good manners. It is disrespectful and therefore impolite to knowingly refer to anyone in a manner that insults them or makes them uncomfortable.

I took guitar lessons when I was in the fourth grade. My teacher insisted on correcting my pronunciation of my own name. My name is pronounced by me, and my mother before me, with a long O sound, Laurie. This fellow explained to me that it is meant to be pronounced LAWry, and then went on to call me that gagging sound at every opportunity. I quit guitar lessons. For all I know he may have just been joking around, but I've come to learn that jokes about given names are rarely funny to the person with the given name. It's never appropriate to mock a person over things over which they have no control (not that I think mockery is ever really appropriate).

Now, suppose you gave birth to a beautiful child - the joy of your heart. As time passes you realize your little one is not keeping up with the child development charts. As more time flies you begin getting calls from teachers. Your baby needs to be tested. More time and baby comes home from school crying. "Mommy, they call me retard!" What do you say to the little one? "Tough up! Don't be so danged sensitive! Get over it!"? Your child already has, through no fault of her own, so many challenges to face in this world, is it too much to ask that people not call her derogatory names? Does she not deserve to be treated with the same dignity that every human deserves?

Jesus famously taught "...in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets."

Elsewhere in the Bible, Paul rephrases it: "Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law."

What I am getting to is that "politically correct" speech, that is: "avoiding vocabulary that is considered offensive, discriminatory, or judgmental, esp concerning race and gender" should not be something those of us who profess Christianity resent or rail against. Rather, it should be our habit. It is our Christian duty to strive to speak to and about others only in ways that do not dishonor them as human beings. This does not mean, of course, that we only tell people what they want to hear, but it does mean that our speech should be characterized by gentleness and respect (1 Peter 3:15), not mockery, slurs, or other demeaning language. Though we should personally strive to overlook offenses (no easy task), it is not our place to decide the boundaries of another - what someone else should or should not be offended by.

"Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. Give no offense, either to the Jews or to the Greeks or to the church of God, just as I also please all men in all things, not seeking my own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved." 1 Cor. 10: 31-33

Politically correct speech isn't just a matter of good manners, it's a matter of the Gospel.

on e e cummings and the simplicity of the gospel

2010-10-31T20:05:00.000-07:00

The other day I was reminded of a poem.

That's a very unusual thing for me to say. I've never really read poetry unless it was required of me, which usually means school was involved. But e. e. cummings was different. I read one of his poems and went home with a whole book of them. For months I pored over them. But, that was decades ago. I no longer have the book and had all but forgotten I ever had. Until recently that is, when a friend posted a reading of this poem - the very one that got me to buy the only book of poetry I ever owned:

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
edward estlin cummings

It made me smile to hear it again, and to hear it read more beautifully than it ever sounded in the voice of my own head. It delighted middle-aged me at least as much as it did teen-me. More really. I glanced at the commentary provided by the reader, who'd read with such deep feeling, or so I thought. As it turned out, the man hates this poem and promised to extend little more than civility to anyone he meets who likes it. He offered this disparagement:

"To me, this is a poem for people who in general do not like poetry."

Though I knew I was being insulted, I could not argue with his statement. It's true. I "in general do not like poetry". And yet, here was a poem. And I liked it. And I proceeded to consume a whole book of Cummings' poetry, which I also loved, much of which the critic did approve of.

And, so, my question is: what is wrong with writing a poem so winsome that even a dolt like me can be delighted? Is it possible that the very fact that it could crack as hard a heart as mine speaks to its strength, not its weakness? What is the point of poetry anyway? Exclusivity? Is the mark of a good poem that it appeals only to an elite few? Does the poet, assuming he/she is writing for the public, really not care that others are touched by it? I find that difficult to believe. What voice cries into a wilderness longing not to be heard?

Yet I've seen this exclusive mindset all over the artistic world - artists pouring out their hearts, dreaming of making a mark, and patrons trying to hoard them to themselves. I've seen it in churches too, people taking hold of the message and soon, as though unable to tolerate it's simplicity, burying it under regulations and nomenclature then sitting smugly atop the mound, smirking at those who "just don't get it".

Oh how quickly we forget the simple beauty of first love. How easily bored we are with with even the greatest splendor. We aren't content to have enjoyed it. We want to own it or be it. So much of what we think of as love of beauty or love of God is really about love of self, about feeling elite, elevated, in the know, superior, powerful. Appreciating this poem or that teaching, makes me feel smart, set apart from the masses. Yes, Me. I've done it. I've cheapened many wonderful things by trying to use them to class myself up. I've done it with literature. I've done it with music. I've even done it with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

"Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Therefore, as it is written: “Let him who boasts boast in the Lord." 1 Cor 1: 26-31 (emphasis mine).

I've read the poem again. It is simple, indeed, for me, knowing Christ as the one in whom " all things hold together" and who has given me a new heart, it is a prayer. (Col. 1:17; Ez. 36:26)

You can listen to the man who hates the poem read it beautifully here. Ironically, and sadly, I could find no better reading of it than his.

Bullied to death

2010-10-18T00:09:00.000-07:00

Bullying is as old as humanity, or nearly so. That ancient book of Genesis tells us the first recorded human ever born bullied and murdered the second recorded human ever born.

I came along many millenia later and was bullied for much of my childhood and teen years, and for a very brief time (my mind travels back to eighth grade,when I had my one shot at popularity and became a monster) I played the bully myself. Back then adults, like Charlie Brown's teachers, were muffled voices, and, outside of the classroom, wholly uninvolved in the politics of the playground. We kids were on our own - at least that was my experience. I never told a soul or complained to anyone. There was a code, only spoken when broken. I don't know who invented it, or in what century, but to tattle was a worse crime than bullying itself, removing whatever respect might have remained. I challenged a girl to a fight once. It was to take place after school. I'd been picked on one too many times. But, before the next recess I was called to the teacher's desk and given a goldenrod slip of paper. I'd been ratted out. I felt a strange mix of contempt and relief. In spite of her size (in my childhood, everyone was bigger than me), she was afraid of me. I'd won the fight without anyone getting hurt. Scrawny, homely me had the power. That bit of satisfaction was worth facing my mother with goldenrod note in hand.

But bullying, along with all the other secret sins we children suffered silently back in "the good-old days" are being exposed. People are being encouraged to take a stand, to tell somebody, to get help. I hear the little girl in me cry out, "Don't tell! They'll hate you more! Don't give them the satisfaction of knowing they've hurt you. Don't let anyone know how weak you really are!" But that little girl was just a little girl, inexperienced, gullible.

Odd to think how my Christian school childhood served a better illustration of Darwinian "survival of the fittest" than any teaching of Christ. What I was taught in the classroom was untaught every time I exited its door.

But I've meandered off. Let me come to my point. What's puzzling me these days is not so much the fact of bullying, which has ever been with us, as the fact of the suicides it is leading to. I don't recall ever in my entire youth hearing of a suicide, let alone one by another youngster. High school was like a living hell for me. (Perhaps, if I'd known at the time that life could get even worse, I might have considered it....) But, as bad as things were then, I never seriously contemplated suicide. It would be another couple of decades before that degree of hopelessness could set in. In my teens I still had options, time, and that ability of the young to paint dreams with color, magic, and hope. So I managed my pain in other ways. I lived in a very big city. There were always options. I changed friends, changed schools, changed drugs, changed boys. I also journaled, though we didn't call it that then. And, sometimes, I prayed. These little steps, desperate and misguided as they clearly were from the vantage of my middle age, distracted me from suicide.

I knew other kids, back in those days when stigmas still had some real punch, who really messed up. What I mean is, they got caught messing up. I knew girls who got pregnant before high school was through, one while still in junior high. These girls had their babies and finished school. They didn't abort their babies or their lives. There were other kids who, like me, were hated and made the grist of the rumor mill. Often we outcasts hid together, comforted by a shared hatred of our abusers.

So what's changed? (If it really has. I don't want to rule out entirely the real possibility that these suicides have always been going on but nobody talked about it. Goodness knows we were a secretive bunch before Oprah came along.) Assuming this phenomenon really is new or suddenly and exponentially growing, I've come to think that the difference might not be so much in the bully, or the bullied, but in a new kind of ubiquity.

Through the omnipresent internet, playground politics and the snide cruelties of high school now follow us into our homes, right into our living rooms and bedrooms. We can run, but without unplugging entirely from our culture and it's tools, we can't hide. And even if we were to unplug, we would still know that nobody else has. Whatever our fear, whatever our shame, whatever our weakness, once it is exposed is exposed forever. There is no turning back. There is no forgetting. It is available to any heart, wicked or kind, any set of eyes with a search engine, and it can never be reliably erased. No matter where we run, we know any face we meet may have already gazed upon our shame, reveling, mocking, puffing up with pride at the expense of our souls.

We know it will always be out there, lurking, that callous and unforgiving swarm consciousness, hungering after it's next meal, sniffing for the blood of the weak and wounded. An injured one has few options: hope against hope to be overlooked, tiny, in the vast sea of wounded; wait to be scented out and tortured to shreds by a thousand little bites; or if the swarm becomes visible on the horizon, take matters in hand. Better to end it on one's own terms. Get it over quickly and comparatively painlessly.

Of course not all the bullied commit suicide. For any number of reasons, some are more vulnerable than others, but I am convinced that we are all in some way or another impacted. To quote a verse from the Bible, "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." None of us are perfect. Every one of us has done something, said something, that could condemn us in the eyes of the world. Every one of us is living in a world looking for someone else to take the blame. Even those of us who are active members of the swarm, looking to bite and devour, have somewhere in our hearts the buried knowledge that we are only one or two missteps away from becoming prey. This is the darkness of our world. It can be terrifying. I know.

There is no way out of the darkness but to break the power of shame. I have tried everything imaginable to do it: changing the rules, denying my deeds are truly shameful, justifying my behavior, blaming others, renaming my sins as illnesses or disorders, sometimes even by re-labeling them as virtues and priding myself in them. The best I've ever achieved by my efforts has been to drive the shame underground and in the process committed more deeds to be ashamed of.

I have found that there is only one thing that can break through the darkness of shame and that is the hope of real forgiveness. Real shame for real wrongs needs a forgiveness that doesn't try to sweep the seriousness of my sins under a rug, saying it wasn't really so bad, or making excuses for it. Real forgiveness tells the truth. It looks right at my sin, sees it for the ugly thing that it really is, and then forgives it anyway. I've wandered and stumbled far and wide in the darkness of my own guilt, hoping that somewhere there might be hope for me, and after more than forty years the light of hope has finally broken through. God has taken pity on me, and all of us. He knows full well the dark filthy place this world has become and into that darkness He has sent a great light - His own Son to bring us the hope of true forgiveness. Jesus Christ took the guilt of sin upon Himself, dying a shameful death on behalf of any who will look to Him in hope.

"And you, who were dead in your trespasses...God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him." Col. 2:13-15

The record of our sins has been canceled. Everything that stood against us has been nailed to the cross. It is no longer we who bear shame, but the forces in this world who have sought to destroy us. Look to Jesus for forgiveness and be free once and for all time from shame. In His light we can stand before God free from guilt. In His light we have peace with God and the hope that comes from knowing that if God is for us, no one can stand against us.

"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Romans 8:1

Christ disarms the bully by taking away his power to shame. May the light of Christ free you today, from the power of sin, the power of shame, and the power of the fear of men.

2010-10-03T00:17:00.000-07:00

Tango

One heart yearns, tired

tentatively stepping

building, growing,

keening, wailing

grieving, hoping again to love.

It rises up, old

brokenhearted to dance

circling, soaring

aching, climbing,

mounting stairs, again, to heaven.

A time for every purpose under heaven

2010-08-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

After weeks upon weeks of consideration I've decided that it is time for me to set this blog aside. I cannot say for how long. It may be forever, or it may be for a few weeks. I'll leave it here, a record of my thoughts these last couple of years (the ones I dared air publicly that is), a reminder of this stretch of my sojourn.

I began my writing a much different person than I am today. I resist the urge to be embarrassed by my earlier views and attitudes. I was not perfected then, nor am I now. But I pray I never go backward. I want to step forward, arms flung wide open, into the fullness of the freedom that is in Christ, ready to embrace fellow believers of every variety and move forward with them reveling in and proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ to a hopeless and hurting world.

So, what's next? I can't say really, except that I plan to take my life and my writing in a different direction. That direction might just become clearer if I do it away from the confusing din of the internet.

As for my friends here, I haven't died yet, and I don't want to lose you. Please contact me via e-mail or Facebook if ever you want to keep in touch.

Not the image of God!

2010-08-20T00:25:00.000-07:00

"Suggestion for persons entering heaven: Leave your dog outside. Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and the dog would go in."

~ Mark Twain

Meet Schubert. He's pretty cute, in a gremlinish way. Now I know that "dog" is the mirror image of "god", but Schubert is nobody's co-pilot and we can all raise our voices in thanksgiving that he is not created in the image of God. I shudder to think of a world created and ruled by the likes of him!

Schub is the brunt of a lot of jokes around here. We can get away with that because the only English words he understands besides his name are "Do you need to go potty?" "Sit," "Down", and I think he understands "No!" though he doesn't always obey that one. He also rolls on his back with a big smile and his tongue lolling out if you point your fingers like a gun and pretend to shoot him. He agrees to do this because it always ends in his belly getting rubbed. Truth be told, no one who knows Schubert would argue with me if I said, "Schubert's god is his belly." It's the plain truth and I've never encountered another creature who is so obvious about it. Schub has two primary goals in life (he had a third, but the vet took care of that other one): to have his belly filled and to have his belly rubbed.

"Look out for the dogs... their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things...." (Phil. 3:2a,19b)

Now, Paul, in his letter is not really speaking of dogs. He's using the term "dogs" to describe those early legalists known as the Judaizers. No doubt they did not think of themselves as worldly. They were convinced they were more spiritual than the rest, bringing in the Law to those "lawless" gentile Christians. The apostle did not agree. But it's not really in my mind today to discuss legalists. What I've got on my mind is sin, I mean, what is sin anyway? I know the common response is "disobedience to God" or "rebellion". I don't argue that those are sins, but what is at the heart of those. What on earth (good pun, but unintended) would lead a person to rebel? God created mankind in His image - no small honor. Really, what could be loftier? What more could we want?

Well, we can want the one thing in our world we haven't been given. And isn't that pretty much what we are always so inclined to want? Of course, back in the Garden days we weren't so inclined to want that one thing, because we had all we needed already, and then some, and had been told not to want it by God, whose word was good enough for us back then. But, in that Garden was a tempter who already knew the dark pleasure and the emptiness of rebellion, and whose great desire now was to lead a fledgling race which bears the image of his hated Enemy into that rebellion with him. What a coup it would be to take little images of God and make them into his own likeness, and lower. These beings were made of the earth, the same earth that brought forth the animals. If these beings could be made to rebel against the God who created them, to lose the spiritual life He'd breathed into the lungs of their souls, well, what would be left would be little more than animal life. Or maybe the Enemy really did expect his trickery to lead to the instant death of these little images of God. I wonder if he was surprised to see them continue to live and breath, sewing leaves together in their hidey-hole, and even more surprised when God not only didn't kill them but sacrificed animals to give them better clothes to hide under.

But I think I've strayed away from my point. What would lead such a noble creature to rebel? He wouldn't rebel for the joy of rebelling. He had no experience with such a feeling. No, it would have to be a legitimate desire perverted. Ultimately it was his belly that won out, abetted by the spiritual-sounding excuse that to eat would make him godly. His belly wanted that fruit more than it wanted God, and so that belly became its god. So mankind lowered his/herself to the level of dogs, and the devil was pleased. Aside from death, what baser fate could he wish upon creatures that remind him at every glance of the God he hates? What satisfaction he no doubt derives from seeing God's images behaving like Schubert. And for all these years we've continued the tradition of using godliness as an excuse to fill our "bellies" - a blasphemy little Schubert wouldn't dream of.

But let me finish with this: I mean no insult to dear little Schub. My husband will not let me get by with lowering his special little pet to the level of a sinner. It is, after all, no sin whatsoever for him to behave as he does. He's a dog. He's doing exactly what he was made to do and operating exactly within the nature God gave him. Schubert is a foul but affectionate little brute, which is just as God created him to be. Schubert is not a sinner; I am. And in that sense he is a finer individual than me.
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How do I go on?

2010-08-15T23:19:00.000-07:00

How do I keep on

when my good works aren't good enough

when my spirituality isn't spiritual enough

when my heart is breaking

and everyone's a critic?

Jesus in the streets and Judgment Day

2010-08-10T21:30:00.000-07:00

The last eight months have been a time of existential crisis in my household. We've seen the death of my mother, the alleged beating death of the child of Christian friends, the death of an unbelieving best friend. On top of this, we've encountered dozens of people, some believing, some no longer so, who've been battered by "Christian" doctrine. And through it all, the Great Recession made itself felt through my husband's sixteen months as an unemployment statistic. These last months life has taken us to task for our beliefs and tried them by fire.

I'll be perfectly frank. My spiritual house, what there was of it, no longer exists. I'd erected an elaborate but stark structure, peaks and angles of intricate, flawless, or so it seemed, doctrine. I first began to notice something was wrong when my mother died. My house was cold - so cold. I looked around and realized for the first time that it had no walls and no fire in the hearth could remain lit for long with the winds that kept blowing through. I shivered. I realized what had been missing all along was love. That was the only thing which could keep my heart warm, but it seemed my doctrinal structure, though lovely to look at could not withstand the weight or heat of love. When all the rest followed over the months which ensued, that structure in which I'd taken such pride crumbled right down to its foundation. But that foundation remained, apparently impervious, and that foundation is Jesus Christ. He remains, the One who loves me and atoned for my sin; but now it remains to rebuild. And this time I want to be oh so careful. I must take the scattered remnants and identify which ones were sound, which ones weak, which ones deserve key positions and are strong enough to support the rest of the structure and which are not. As I look at what is left of my house I can see that I used good materials but in wrong ways leaving it all unstable, unsound. I'm an inexperienced builder and I'm suffering the effects of my whimsy and my pride.*

Next to Paul, I sat weeping on the love seat one morning. "I want to see Jesus. I want to know Him. I want to know how He is, what kind of person He is, to hear the sound, and the tone of His voice. I want to experience his demeanor. Is he gentle to the weak and hurting? Is He tender to the doubting? When he tells His people to fear not, is it a barked command, or a word of compassion and comfort? Is He angry? Is He really the Clint Eastwood of gods that so many so gleefully represent Him to be? Or is it true that "a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench,until he brings justice to victory"? My dear mother was a bruised reed, so was the daughter of my friends, and so am I. Does he demean and disregard my pain because I'm a woman, as so many Christians do? How can I know Him? Where do I find Him? And what does it mean to "follow Him"?

So, yet again, I turned to the one place where though I cannot hear His voice, I can at least read His words. I turned to the Gospels. I've been doing my best to make out His tone of voice, trying to forget the tone which I've heard countless others give to His words over the years, asking Him over and over to show me what He's really like.

Last Sunday, during worship, this passage of Scripture was read:

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name? And then will I declare to them, I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.'" Matthew 7:21-23

This is one of those generally terrifying passages so often used to terrify people into...well...into something, whatever thing. It's a very versatile verse likely not least because most of us are pretty vague as to the meaning of "lawlessness". Come on quick. I'll give you ten seconds to define lawlessness..........(Now, if you were a practicing Orthodox Jew, this would likely be easy. But for the Christian it's another matter altogether. After all, we've been told that "all who rely on works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, 'Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law and do them.' Now if is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for 'The righteous shall live by faith. But the Law is not of faith..." [Gal. 3:10-12a])

In fact, the Law never could be fulfilled by not committing a List of Ten prohibited actions, or any others deeds we may in our zeal add to the list. "If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations— 'Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch' (referring to things that all perish as they are used)—according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh." (Col. 2:20-23) No, regulations and laws are not what the faithful live by. The faithful live by faith; and "faith worketh by love.....For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

In short, those who do the will of the Father in Heaven are those who love. Lawlessness equals lovelessness.

Last Sunday when I heard that verse read my mind did not do the thing it usually does with it. This time my thoughts flew to a different "Judgment Day" passage:

"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left.Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.' Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?' And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'

"Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.' Then they also will answer, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?' Then he will answer them, saying, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.' And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." Matthew 25:31-46

And this brings me back to my original quest, my prayer, my deep desire to know Jesus. We've all heard the verse, and we all, believers and unbelievers alike know to the core of our beings that "Faith without works is dead," that "talk is cheap," that "actions speak louder than words". The truth is, no matter how "doctrinally sound" or "Bible-believing" we claim to be, we don't know Jesus by hearing His words, even by listening avidly and voraciously to them, even by studying them and preaching (or prophecying) them any more than we know a celebrity by looking at pictures and reading magazines. No, we know Jesus when do His words: when we follow in His steps and do as He does. More particularly, we know Him when we love who He loves. Until we begin to love our neighbors and our enemies in the most practical of ways we will not know or love Jesus.

"...love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful." Luke 6:35-36

And so it seems clear, if I want to see Jesus - to really know Him, if I want to be a daughter of God, I will look to serve Him in the needs of others. If I really want to show my love to Him, I will love Him through His creatures made in His image - my fellow humans.

I read His words in the Book then I look for His face in the streets.

And off I go. Seeking His face. I'm not sure how to find him in my little town where even the poorest receive regular meals and free clothing. But I can start in my heart, thinking kind thoughts of those He loves (which is every living soul), and letting those kind thoughts spill over into kind words and deeds. I can stop looking down on those who are weak and devastated by the curse of the world's sin or their own. I can stop categorizing people with the words "them" and "those" and begin thinking of "them" as people, sinful, hurting, weak, people just like me and more than that, "Those people" are my only chance to love Jesus in this life. I must stop mentally belittling and victimizing people with caricatures, slurs, stereotyping, inward sneers and mockery. Then perhaps when I meet Christ face to face in the hurt or physical need of another I will really love Him, and them. Perhaps Then, when I finally meet Him it won't be with words of boasting of wondrous words and works of the Law, but with humble surprise..."When did I help you Jesus?....All I did was love them. Considering all you've done for me, how could I do any less?"

May God grant me grace for my sojourn.

*The final three sentences of this paragraph were added at a later date, for the sake of clarity.

Lettin' it all hang out

2010-07-24T16:30:00.000-07:00

I've got nothing of import to share these days so I thought an update and dose of mundane stuff might be fun.

First, my kids have convinced me there's nothing really all that wrong with my forehead and that I shouldn't wear bangs or a hat every waking moment of my life. Besides that, I've determined to own my wrinkles. I've earned them after all, and wouldn't trade the wisdom that's come with them for the world. So, I'm letting my forehead out of the closet. And here's a picture. Oh yeah. I wear glasses too, except on Sundays and when I want to look pretty.

I don't think I've mentioned it here but since it's public knowledge (in the most legal sense of the word, and the most literal - it's been published in the local paper) I can state here that I'm serving on my county's Grand Jury this year. It is taking up a lot of my time, and, with my cleaning business flourishing as it is, I'm left with precious little time for things like, well, things. My writing here will likely be sparser than ever. Grand Jury proceedings are highly confidential, so no matter how interesting it might turn out to be I cannot discuss it. Our findings and recommendations will be made public at the end of our term in our published Final Report and no further comment by any of us is permitted beyond that - ever.

So, what's left? As I said, my business is flourishing. If such a thing was possible, with the number of referrals I've had to turn down I could be working 24/7. But such a thing is not possible or wise. My work is strenuous and I also have a home and family of my own to consider. My husband is very fond of me and likes to spend as much time with me as he can. I try to accommodate him. He also is an intellectual and likes me to read a lot - not that he gets any argument from me! I love to read and find just about everything interesting - except financial stuff - yack! I can understand it, but I don't like it one bit.

I'm also not a poetry fan - a fact my husband is doing everything in his power to change. And he's made some progress. I actually wrote a poem on my blog the other day, the first one of my life. I can't say it's any good, but it's definitely mine.

So along with my random musings I've included some pictures of my random life. Lately I've posted nice pictures of the re-decorating we've been doing. What I've left out of those pictures are the corners of my home where I actually live - where I sit down and think, and talk, and write. Those places are not so tidy or orderly. They represent all my incomplete thoughts, the things I'm struggling to understand and make sense of piled right alongside some of my very favorite things. In that sense these corners are an apt microcosm of my soul. (In case you're wondering where the Bible fits in - I've been judgmental enough in my own Christian life to know there will be someone asking themselves that question - there's a MacArthur Study Bible on top of my desk, a Hebrew/English Tanakh behind where I'm standing in the picture above, and my big fat ESV Study Bible is on the coffee table where both Paul and I can get to it.) Some of these books have been read cover to cover, underlined and dog-eared. Others I'm only part-way through. A few I've stalled on and may have to start over from the beginning if too much more time elapses. Some I've been meaning to read for a really long time and am afraid that if I put them back on the shelf I'll forget them forever. A couple, like Black Beauty for instance, just need to be put away. (Gina borrowed that book and I have no intention of torturing my soul with it.)

We live in an adorable house, which I'm fond of posting pictures of. But what I don't advertise much is that we live in a questionable neighborhood and get a lot of questionable foot and vehicle traffic. The binoculars on the nightstand in that last picture are so we can tell if we need to call the cops or not. We've learned over the last few years to limit that to clear evidence of drug dealing, to camping, to physical abuse, to terrorist threats, to vandalism, and to unconsciousness. As it is we call the cops at least once a month. The flashlight is for power outages which for various reason we experience several times a year. No matter where I keep a flashlight, I've never been able to remember where I keep a flashlight. So it will likely sit there unused during the next outage. And so, as my mind wanders off I'll end my ramblings here, hoping someday soon I'll happen upon something worthwhile to share with my friends.

Just whose wife am I anyway?

2010-07-07T21:38:00.000-07:00

In the first place, I wish I could take credit for coming to that critical question on my own, but really it was a slow train coming, and on the caboose was a friend who during her own womanly journey snagged this obscure little bit of Scripture: "If there is anything they desire to learn, let them ask their husbands at home." (1 Cor. 14: 35) I admittedly have no intention of diving into the minefield of context on this one. I've honestly seldom been able to notice these words through the din of those that surround it, but my friend drew them out for me and gave me a timeless, culture-spanning use for them.

"I think one of the reasons...to learn from our own husbands at home (in a good marriage) is because that's the one person who loves us most and is most willing to protect us."

On came the lights. "Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord." (Eph. 5:22, all emphasis mine.)

Now, let me put on the brakes for a moment, for the sake of anyone who may happen across these words who is either not a Christian, or else one not from a fundamentalist background, who will no doubt think this is nutty, turn-of-the-twentieth-century, backwoods talk, and clarify that I am speaking as a Christian person who has spent many years within the world of fundamentalism and is these days, for a number of reasons, taking a fresh look at what Christianity really does and does not require of its women. If you don't mind bearing with me, perhaps you can gain some understanding into our little world. As you are likely aware, our book of Scripture was written in a different time, in a different culture with different mores: a middle-eastern, tribal, patriarchal culture. As a result, it is important for us to understand what principles underlie the instructions given all those years ago, what they would have represented to the original recipients, and how to appropriately apply them in our own cultural context. For example, what is the first thing you think of when you see a woman with a head scarf: 'Oh look, there goes a married, chaste, devout woman?' Likely not. In fact, such a head covering represents something vastly different to westerners these days. Here and now, what used to be represented by a headscarf is conveyed by a wedding ring on a woman who is modestly attired - meaning: not in an ostentatious, or sexually provocative manner.

Now, when we come to the word "submit", if your knee jerks, it's okay. Mine does, too. I understand. That word has been so abused for so long that it's to be expected. And here is where we can begin to loop back around to my point. (Yes, I do have one.) Let me begin with a wildly popular verse that never did exist in the Bible: "Husbands, make your wives submit." That's right, I said that is NOT Scripture. Men are never given that command, or that responsibility. In fact, according to Jesus, no Christian with any degree of authority is to use it to lord over anyone.

"But Jesus called them to him and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Mt. 20:25-28)

And the same, we are told, clearly applies in the husband/wife relationship: "Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her..." (see Eph. 5:25-29) And, just in case that is too heady a concept, husbands are further told to love their wives as much as their own bodies, which, I assure you, is a LOT. (Go ahead, take a minute to think about the devotion men have to their bodies....That's a whole lotta love! And a lot of nurturing and respect.) So, while the Christian man is living that love out on his wife, the wife is told, by the Scripture, to respect that man and submit to his care.

That man. Not some other man. Not some woman. Not some "Bible teacher" - man or woman.

When the lights came on, I realized that I've been taking my cues on what it means to be a "good" wife, a Christian wife, just about everywhere but from my husband. I've read books, and listened to sermons, lectures, and the advice of fellow Christians. I've taken it all in and, over the years, internalized it, along with all my other cultural idealizations of "the perfect wife".

A word about "complementarianism"

To the right is a diagram of complementary angles.

"The adjective complementary is from Latin complementum, associated with the verb complere, "to fill up". An acute angle is 'filled up' by its complement to form a right angle."

"Why are Complementary Colors Important in Color Theory?

When placed next to each other, complementary colors make each other appear brighter, more intense. The shadow of an object will also contain its complementary color, for example the shadow of a green apple will contain some red."

The dictionary defines the word "complementary" this way:

1. Forming or serving as a complement; completing.
2. Supplying mutual needs or offsetting mutual lacks.

If we're truthful we have to admit that the Scripture gives precious little practical advice about being a "perfect wife". All it gives are a few over-arching principles. And suddenly this makes perfect sense to me. I am to be subject to my own husband, and to learn what it means to be his wife from him. After all, every man is different. Every woman is different. Every marriage is different. That's the way God intended it. We are not clones but uniquely gifted individuals. Not only that, but every culture is different and so is every age. The Scripture is meant to be versatile and timeless, valuable to every person in every era. In the old days, and I mean very old days, God created man and announced, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him." (Gen. 2:18) And the man was delighted with her. She was just what he needed. She was his "help" - his support in weakness. Together they were one. That's were this idea of "complementarianism" we hear so much about these days comes from, and, based upon the definitions and illustrations above, I think that is a perfect description of what the marriage relationship is meant to be. But here's where I see that the idea has taken a wrong turn. Instead of treating each man and each wife as individuals complementing each others' own strengths and weaknesses, encouraging them to fill in and support each other as needed, whatever that may look like, many influential church leaders have chosen one single example from from the host of possible complementary relationship styles and set it up as a pre-fab model for all Christian men and women, expecting them all, no matter how different they may be, to conform to it. So, by way of example, instead of having a wide range of pairs of complementary angles, we are all required to be 60 and 30 degrees. Instead of a spectrum of colors, we are only allowed violet and yellow. Not only is that boring, it's wrong. God created the spectrum. We are all different. When we try to be what we are not, we cannot be what God created us to be. We spend all our energies trying to make ourselves into someone else's image, squeeze ourselves into someone else's ideal.

My husband is an intellectual and very creative man. As it happens, he would rather I write poems than clean the house. He'd prefer I paint canvasses than do laundry - really. My husband would like to cook meals once in a while. My husband would rather I sit and talk with him on the unmade bed than get up and make it. He would rather I giggle, dance, and cry than be the picture of cool, staid contentment. There are dozens of things just like this that would delight Paul which, until a couple of days ago, I would not do. Why? Because cooking, cleaning, organizing, and maintaining decorum were all the things "good wives" do, and they took up all my time. In this and so many other, deeper ways I would not submit to my husband. I would read articles for Christian wives and feel so wrong. When I would tell Paul how I felt, he'd say, in no uncertain terms, "I don't want that kind of wife! I married you!" Then I would secretly think, well, this person, this Bible teacher is so godly - perhaps Paul is wrong... and I'd go ahead and follow or fret over the advice anyway. That, my friends, is NOT submission.

So, whose wife am I anyway? Paul's wife, that's who. He's yellow-orange and he fell in love with my blue-violet, because something in his soul told him that was just what was needed to complete him, to make him shine brighter and with more intensity. I agreed to be his wife because I felt the same way. So why am I not writing poems? Why am I not painting? Why am I not dancing, laughing, and letting Paul cook dinner? I'm done taking my cues on what kind of wife I should be from anyone but him. I'm determined to honor the unique man that he is. From here on out I submit myself to my own husband. When it comes to what it means to be a good wife to him, beyond the Scripture, no one but he has a right to inform me. I will learn from him at home.

[You will find a follow-up to this post here.]

Who is this Jesus?

2010-07-05T20:17:00.000-07:00

Who is he?

This one I speak to
upon waking each morning,
full of fear....

This one I've never laid eyes on,
yet trust
with my dread and my life?

Who are you, Jesus?

Why do I trust you?

Why do I wish it was me,

washing your feet with my tears

Touching your skin

fear of your disciples, their taunts

washed away by hope of your acceptance?

How do I know you will not agree with them

and turn me away?

I don't.

I never have.

And yet I come,
day after day
hearing the whispers.

The way I approach is all wrong,

offerings foolish and wasteful.
A woman,

I belong in the kitchen, quietly working, useful.

But I need you.

Oh, how I wish I could touch you, hear your voice

drowning out the voice of your men.

Then I would ask you

Who are you?

Why do I trust you?