The Good Portion

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 t...

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." image via Wikipedia 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 Sou...

Image via Wikipedia 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.

For years I seldom read poetry unless it was required it of me. But e. e. cummings was different. I was introduced to one of his poems in high school and raced home to devour the rest of the collection. I no longer have the book and had all but forgotten it until recently, when a friend posted a reading of this poem - the very one that got me to buy the first 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) a...

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. Bu...

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 c...

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...

Like every self-respecting girl of my generation, and probably every other kind of girl too, I loved the Brady Bunch. Every Friday evening for five years (decades in little-girl-time) centered around it. Like every other little girl I knew, I wanted to be Marsha, the oh-so-cool and beautiful older sister, or at the very least to be as cute as little Cindy, who everyone adored. Even to be Jan, the relatively plain middle daughter, would be better than the knobby-jointed, crooked-haired, four-eyed, bad-toothed, unpopular child I saw looking back at me from every mirror. Raised an only child (my siblings having grown up and moved away before my earliest memories), I envied those sibling relationships. I wanted cute brothers to fight with but who would secretly really love me, and would defend me when kids picked on me at school. I wanted a family name that would escort me immediately into the attention of every teacher and student who heard it. And, of course, I wished for such parents:...

How is it that we do not come into being as individual humans until atoms combine for the formation of our own unique DNA, and yet do not cease to exist as individual souls when our genetic material has long since decomposed into atoms which have long since become a part of the genetic creation that is a new human being?

I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chatted all the way; But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow, And ne’er a word said she; But, oh! The things I learned from her, When sorrow walked with me. -Robert Browning Hamilton Thanks to Simplemann

What began with my mother's passing one week before Christmas, and was added to by more tragedy, accusations, and disappointments has culminated, finally, in an unexpected, yet not unpredictable, bout of situational depression. It's depression; I know it. Yet unlike other depressions I've experienced in my life I know where this one is coming from. It's not stemming from nonsense (mostly), or even an absence of faith, though if feels like that at moments. (At some moments it feels like I've never known God at all.) Really it's more like a snowball of grief and disappointment. And it's also been a wake-up call to the inadequacies of doctrinal systems. Beware when your system replaces your Savior, my friends. Only Christ will do. Only Christ will do.  When your relationship to Christ depends upon your own faithfulness to cling to Him, well, what happens when all the fingernails of your soul come ripping off, when you can't cling to that Rock for another se...

In my life I've been burdened, often to the point of complete hopelessness, with the guilt that comes from legalism - that idea that I gain God's favor by my good behavior, and lose it by my sin. I've often felt alone in this struggle, seeing so many people who seem to have it all together, who "do" the Christian life so well, who, even when they will admit to struggling make the struggle sound so spiritual that I feel I can never even sin as spiritually as they do. The truth is, I know for a fact that nothing I do is ever good enough, or pure enough, to measure up to the standard Christ set in His Sermon on the Mount . In my efforts I've ended up swinging like a pendulum between the twin sins of hopeless antinomianism and prideful legalism . I've tortured myself with second-guessing; I've agonized over conversations, worrying that my speech may not have been edifying; I've lived in fear that every wrong decision was my fatal error, the on...

Charity and Its Fruits Lecture VII, part two (This week we continue our discussion of the Jonathan Edwards' classic, Charity and Its Fruits. We have just concluded reading the second part of Lecture Seven beginning with Roman Numeral Two. We will begin Lecture Eight next week, reading through Roman Numeral Two. The notes below follow Edwards' outline directly, with all direct quotes from the text in italics. My goal is to make each post edifying on its own, even for those who are not reading along with us. I will welcome your questions or comments in the form below.) "Charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly." 1 Cor. 13:4 , 5 II. The spirit of charity is an humble spirit. 1. A spirit of charity, or divine love, implies and tends to humility. First, It implies humility . Simply put, humility is part of what Christian love is. As we discussed last week, it is perfectly possible to acknowledge God, as God, a...

  Charity and Its Fruits Lecture VII, part one (This week we continue our discussion of the Jonathan Edwards' classic, Charity and Its Fruits. We have just concluded reading the "Doctrine" portion of Lecture Seven through Roman Numeral One. We will complete the rest of Lecture Seven in next week's reading. The notes below follow Edwards' outline directly, with all direct quotes from the text in italics. My goal is to make each post edifying on its own, even for those who are not reading along with us. I will welcome your questions or comments in the form below.) The Spirit of Charity is an Humble Spirit "Charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly." 1 Cor. 13:4,5 In our last reading we learned that Christian love prevents us from envying others what they have. In this lecture we will learn how charity "keeps us from glorying in what we possess ourselves" as well as how it keeps us from behav...