"Fathers give. Fathers protect. Fathers bestow. Fathers yearn and long for the good of their children. Fathers delight. Fathers sacrifice. Fathers are jovial and open-handed. Fathers create abundance, and if lean times come they take the leanest portion themselves and create a sense of gratitude and abundance for the rest. Fathers love birthdays and Christmas because it provides them with yet another excuse to give some more to the kids. When fathers say 'no', as good fathers do from time to time, it is only because they are giving a more subtle gift, one that is a bit more complicated than a cookie...Fathers are not looking for excuses to say 'no.' Their default mode is not 'no.' " (From one of Douglas Wilson's blog posts...it was probably really wrong of me to copy it, so nobody tell :)
The author of this was writing instructions to human fathers, but when I read it all I could think about was how God exemplifies all these things. I wrote it in my West Virginia journal before we left and I came back to it after we got back and I've been thinking about it in relation to some of the things I'm working through from that week. And the idea that God can't wait till Christmas, the idea that God always takes the leanest portion for himself...
How counter-intuitive. I know God loves us, but I guess I never think of it as such a practical love, such a dear, comfortable love.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Cliffs
"God's command is enabling. Never has he given an assignment that was not accompanied by the power to accomplish it." -Elizabeth Elliot
So I've officially graduated (or rather, I've been officially graduated, apparently it's something that is done to you). And I feel a little like the rest of this summer is just me stepping closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. Digging my toes in, trying not to look down, but eventually I have to jump (fall?) off.
But I've also been thinking that this cliff eighteen years into my life cannot be the first cliff. There was a precipice the day I lost my first tooth. The day I got lost in Kmart. The day I learned to tie my shoes, the day I put my head under water for the first time, the days my sisters were born. The first day of school, the day I got my driver's license, the day I decided to take taekwando. When my dad became an elder, when we first (and second, and third, fourth, fifth) went to West Virginia, every single cello recital.
These have all been precipices I maybe jumped, maybe fell off. And who am I to say that this present cliff is somehow more important, more significant than the tooth-losing one? Than every other time I was afraid and had to trust, was walking blind and had to trust, was dying to something in myself and had to trust that God would raise me from the dead?
Our lives will always follow that pattern of dying and rising. And I wish I could get used to it, could love God enough to say not "Please be careful" but "Anything for you."
"To whatever he says my answer is Yes." -Elizabeth Elliot
So I've officially graduated (or rather, I've been officially graduated, apparently it's something that is done to you). And I feel a little like the rest of this summer is just me stepping closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. Digging my toes in, trying not to look down, but eventually I have to jump (fall?) off.
But I've also been thinking that this cliff eighteen years into my life cannot be the first cliff. There was a precipice the day I lost my first tooth. The day I got lost in Kmart. The day I learned to tie my shoes, the day I put my head under water for the first time, the days my sisters were born. The first day of school, the day I got my driver's license, the day I decided to take taekwando. When my dad became an elder, when we first (and second, and third, fourth, fifth) went to West Virginia, every single cello recital.
These have all been precipices I maybe jumped, maybe fell off. And who am I to say that this present cliff is somehow more important, more significant than the tooth-losing one? Than every other time I was afraid and had to trust, was walking blind and had to trust, was dying to something in myself and had to trust that God would raise me from the dead?
Our lives will always follow that pattern of dying and rising. And I wish I could get used to it, could love God enough to say not "Please be careful" but "Anything for you."
"To whatever he says my answer is Yes." -Elizabeth Elliot
Friday, May 23, 2008
The Back of the World
"Shall I tell you the secret of the whole world? It is that we have only known the back of the world. We see everything from behind and it looks brutal. That is not a tree, but the back of a tree. That is not a cloud, but the back of a cloud. Cannot you see that everything is stooping and hiding its face? If only we could get around in front . . ." (G. K. Chesterton, The Man Who was Thursday)
My mom used to do cross-stitch and she said it reminded her of life because if you looked at the back of the cloth everything was a mess of knots. You could still see colors and vague patterns, could still get a sense of the picture; in fact, if you didn't know there was a front, you could probably convince yourself that that was what the picture was supposed to look like. But then you turn it over.
And sometimes we think we see patterns in this world, in our lives, we think we see colors and shapes and then we despair because it still looks like a mess. And we convince ourselves this is real life. We don't realize we're still on the back of the cloth. And you need all the messy knots, or else there won't be a picture.
My mom used to do cross-stitch and she said it reminded her of life because if you looked at the back of the cloth everything was a mess of knots. You could still see colors and vague patterns, could still get a sense of the picture; in fact, if you didn't know there was a front, you could probably convince yourself that that was what the picture was supposed to look like. But then you turn it over.
And sometimes we think we see patterns in this world, in our lives, we think we see colors and shapes and then we despair because it still looks like a mess. And we convince ourselves this is real life. We don't realize we're still on the back of the cloth. And you need all the messy knots, or else there won't be a picture.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Credo
"The Latin credo means literally 'I give my heart' . . . Faith is not about propositions, but about commitment. It does not mean that I intellectually subscribe to the following list of statements, but that I give my heart to this reality. Believe, indeed, comes to us from the Old English belove, making it clear that this too is meant to be heart language. To say 'I believe in Jesus Christ' is not to subscribe to a certain proposition. It is a confession of commitment, of love." --Diana Eck, Encountering God
Friday, May 2, 2008
How God works
'Well, you know, that is how God works,' I say soberly. 'He gave you all these things to trick you into relaxing a little so that in a few years he can really pull the rug out from under you.' " (Lauren F. Winner, Girl Meets God)
Which is exactly how I think most of the time. And it is a really good book, despite the overused title.
Which is exactly how I think most of the time. And it is a really good book, despite the overused title.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Lamentations 3: 22-24
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul,
'therefore I will hope in him.' "
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul,
'therefore I will hope in him.' "
Monday, April 7, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
"The Beautiful Changes"
"Your hands hold roses always in a way that says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and thing's selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder."
I feel like I keep coming up against this piece of a poem (by Richard Wilbur); you know how there are sometimes passages or characters or descriptions you can't get away from? I've written it over and over again in my journal in different contexts, and it seems to answer all these different questions and struggles without really answering them at all.
Like how a good Father can let his children die.
Like paganism, like how the Gospel doesn't seem to have any power over the hardened sin in this world.
Like how people can love God so fiercely in the absense of their hearts.
I couldn't explain logically how it answers those, but bring in the generosity of God, and those questions turn different colors, run together, become silly, laughing, almost tongue-in-cheek.
If God holds roses in a way that says they are not only his...
Then all the breaking in the world must be like that, must be a gift like everything else.
In such kind ways.
For every loss, ever single loss, a second finding.
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and thing's selves for a second finding, to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to wonder."
I feel like I keep coming up against this piece of a poem (by Richard Wilbur); you know how there are sometimes passages or characters or descriptions you can't get away from? I've written it over and over again in my journal in different contexts, and it seems to answer all these different questions and struggles without really answering them at all.
Like how a good Father can let his children die.
Like paganism, like how the Gospel doesn't seem to have any power over the hardened sin in this world.
Like how people can love God so fiercely in the absense of their hearts.
I couldn't explain logically how it answers those, but bring in the generosity of God, and those questions turn different colors, run together, become silly, laughing, almost tongue-in-cheek.
If God holds roses in a way that says they are not only his...
Then all the breaking in the world must be like that, must be a gift like everything else.
In such kind ways.
For every loss, ever single loss, a second finding.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Strawberry
Tear out the creeping weeds
Tear them out deep down
Where the roots gather and tangle together
To bind themselves to the heart
The core of the world
Rip them up, but gently, gently
Do not kill the strawberries
Do not pull only what you see
Uncover first, uncover the
Naked white vessels
Unravel them
And throw them on the fire
You'll need tools with teeth
You'll sweat and maybe bleed
From swellings on your palms
Your knees will grow old and ache
Sacrifices made for strawberries
Even the pretty little flower weeds
Must come out
Don't you want
To drip the sweet pink juice over ice cream
More and more
Let it collect in the bottom of the bowl
And drink it?
In front of a bonfire?
Tear them out deep down
Where the roots gather and tangle together
To bind themselves to the heart
The core of the world
Rip them up, but gently, gently
Do not kill the strawberries
Do not pull only what you see
Uncover first, uncover the
Naked white vessels
Unravel them
And throw them on the fire
You'll need tools with teeth
You'll sweat and maybe bleed
From swellings on your palms
Your knees will grow old and ache
Sacrifices made for strawberries
Even the pretty little flower weeds
Must come out
Don't you want
To drip the sweet pink juice over ice cream
More and more
Let it collect in the bottom of the bowl
And drink it?
In front of a bonfire?
Saturday, March 22, 2008
End of Lent
"Oh my God, can I complain
You take away my firm belief
And graft my soul upon your grief." --Jars of Clay (I think)
"Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust,
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees . . .
Who hopeless lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day . . .
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!" --from "Snowbound"
You take away my firm belief
And graft my soul upon your grief." --Jars of Clay (I think)
"Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust,
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees . . .
Who hopeless lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day . . .
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!" --from "Snowbound"
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Musing...
Oh my friends...
It is late. I am tired. My mom looks very cozy in her bed, and I'd like to be too...but it takes too long to brush my teeth. Would anyone like to join me in boycotting daylight savings? Just for fun? Doesn't it feel like there should be another day between Sunday and Monday?
And aren't Sundays strange? The more in tune I think I'm getting with resting and community, the harder Sundays seem to be...such a bizarre combination of rest and stress, delight and frustration that goes along with being human and loving other humans.
The terrible clarity of having the heavy burden of loving others thrust on you and realizing that you can carry it.
And I wonder if the first thing we will notice about heaven will be the smell, the smell of good food cooking.
Okay. Goodnight.
It is late. I am tired. My mom looks very cozy in her bed, and I'd like to be too...but it takes too long to brush my teeth. Would anyone like to join me in boycotting daylight savings? Just for fun? Doesn't it feel like there should be another day between Sunday and Monday?
And aren't Sundays strange? The more in tune I think I'm getting with resting and community, the harder Sundays seem to be...such a bizarre combination of rest and stress, delight and frustration that goes along with being human and loving other humans.
The terrible clarity of having the heavy burden of loving others thrust on you and realizing that you can carry it.
And I wonder if the first thing we will notice about heaven will be the smell, the smell of good food cooking.
Okay. Goodnight.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Unhypocrisy?
So every morning I'll prowl around all you guyses blog sites and grumble to myself about how no one ever updates, and I'm finally realizing what a hypocrite I am...
I've been noticing how appropriate the weather has been for Lent. (By the way, I gave up ice cream as kinda a last minute resolution because it wasn't too much of a cop out like "I give up caviar" and also didn't seem too life-altering. But I've been surprised at how much I miss it.) For devotions this year I've been using a system of Bible readings my mom gave me that follows the church year, and I like how it keeps me more in tune with seasons like Advent and Lent--it's having me go though the story of Joseph right now, which is, if you think about it, really appropriate for Lent. But this horrible weather makes everybody so hungry for spring, so hungry for a relief from grayness, so hopeful. Which is great preparation for Easter.
Do you think hope is the opposite of hypocrisy?
I've been noticing how appropriate the weather has been for Lent. (By the way, I gave up ice cream as kinda a last minute resolution because it wasn't too much of a cop out like "I give up caviar" and also didn't seem too life-altering. But I've been surprised at how much I miss it.) For devotions this year I've been using a system of Bible readings my mom gave me that follows the church year, and I like how it keeps me more in tune with seasons like Advent and Lent--it's having me go though the story of Joseph right now, which is, if you think about it, really appropriate for Lent. But this horrible weather makes everybody so hungry for spring, so hungry for a relief from grayness, so hopeful. Which is great preparation for Easter.
Do you think hope is the opposite of hypocrisy?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
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