Furry Dogma

So a father shot up his daughter's laptop...

2012-02-14T01:29:00.001-05:00

And this passage from Matt Chandler came to mind (see full text here, which was about Colossians 3 and for this part in particular, he was talking about Ephesians 6:4) :

Just to be straight, as fathers we do not negatively motivate our children. Your daddy might have done that to you, but a godly man does not negatively motivate his child. He doesn’t poke and jab and exhaust their son’s or daughter’s spirit. They don’t provoke them to anger. I think a house should just be filled with grace, mercy and fun, but at the end of the day, you have to figure out a way to nurture, disciple and shape your children that does not exasperate them. Now, at some level, children are going to rebel against rules and they’re not going to like the rules. We have already covered that they’re morons. So they’re just not going to get it. I don’t think this is saying, “Don’t make your children angry,” because there are times your children are going to be angry. The text is saying, “Don’t try to make them angry.” Don’t take things personally to the point where you aggressively attack your children and try to lay burdens on them that they’re going to be unable to walk in and unable to submit to. In the end, you simply create children who become frustrated with the authority over them in a way that honestly isn’t biblical.

And I’ll say this just because we do a lot of work with twenty-somethings here that are banged up. Specifically you fathers, watch your mouth. And I’m not talking about cussing. Watch your mouth towards your sons, and definitely watch your mouth towards your daughters. I cannot unpack for you how powerful your mouth is when it comes to your children. It can absolutely instill in your daughters self-confidence and safety in a man who will treat her, encourage her and lover her well. Or you can teach her that she’s worthless and that what she needs is to be demeaned her entire life. That will start with daddy. You can make your son feel safe in how God created him to be. So maybe your son loves soccer, maybe he loves ballet. Your goal regardless, is to nurture and to love and to encourage them with your mouth. You need to speak life and blessing into your children and not use your tongue to wound or assault your children. It has lasting effects. In my sit-downs with twenty-somethings, they can still tell me of instances and times where a father or mother was quick with their tongue and that was a shaping, molding moment.

The first time I heard that sermon, it touched me deeply because I believe it to be so, so true given my past experiences. And right now, from this vantage point, I can't help but feel so grateful that my future husband will raise his daughters in an encouraging and incredibly unconditionally loving way. Thank God for that.

Thank God for that.

On aging gracefully...

2011-12-19T01:34:00.000-05:00

When a really, really old devout Christian dies, it seems there's this aura of, "See? God gave her a long, amazing life because she was so strong in her faith," and when a young atheist dies in a brutal way, the aura is the opposite. If he had just believed, he wouldn't have died so miserably, so soon.

But what of the young child with incurable brain cancer who believes that Jesus is her savior?

What do we say about her?

She doesn't believe enough? Or her belief isn't real? Is it not deep enough? Or is this just part of the plan?

Maybe it's the remnants of my agnosticism, but I do believe the world is a warped, broken place with so much damage that we've created added onto the chaotic innate power the world has already.

So we develop cancers. And we die young. Or our genes and development and lifestyle mesh just so and we live for eons.

But in all this, two things are true: God is present and nature is unforgiving.

How do the two line up? We just don't know. You know what I mean? If you give somebody a charmed life full of happiness and without suffering, the first bit of suffering they incur, however minute, will be catastrophic. We're seeing the world, as cruel and heartless as it is, from the perspective of that person, our suffering now placed on the scale of the infinite. We can't know what it means or why we have to endure it.

But what we can know is that through this suffering, we grow, we become humble and we empathize. We also learn to love more wholeheartedly and unabashedly. And in those things, we become relevant to the rest of humanity in that we are probably more likely to show people humility, grace, forgiveness, love and compassion that they might know a world where these things exist and in that way, there is always a potential for believing that there is a God from whose essence these things emerge.

Unengage.

2011-12-13T01:33:00.011-05:00

It came up in conversation today that my faith is on the back burner. The person implied I was "invested" in the wrong things, and also inferred that choosing to stay in this house, the one my dad built for me in a mad hurry after I left my abusive ex, rather than moving into the newly opened up apartment on the floor below the pastor and his wife in the city meant I was choosing other things over God.

Why is my faith on the back burner? It's not because I'm invested in other things. It's only partly because of my disease, which causes me to spend my time between sleeping, moping, being angry at being mopey and overextending myself only to wind up with even less energy the next day. Only partly because even if I would love to blame my disease for my lack of reading of the Bible these days (I honestly don't have enough focus to wrap my head around it right now, nor the memory to retain it), for my lack of church attendance (I really am too tired to drive that far and "waste" that many spoons on such a short-lived endeavor), and for everything else I've been neglecting lately, but that's just not the root of it.

The root is that I'm angry at faith.

I'm not angry at God. I love God. I pray to Him and explain to Him how I think my prayers are meaningless because of the neglects mentioned in the previous paragraph. God doesn't listen to those who only go to Him when they need something, they say. Repent, they say.

They, they, they.

They make me angry.

I was going to say, "Ever since Tim Keller answered my question asking if he had any advice to give a believer engaged to a non-believer," but it was even before that (by the way, he answered, "Oh, that's easy: get unengaged.").

I think it's ever since I explained to the pastor of this particular Montreal church in explicit detail why I wasn't going to church that I've had this anger. Maybe even before that.

him:
So, where are you at in terms of being part of a gospel community? Are you plugged in anywhere? If not, you should come be a part of [his church] (or at least check out the service piece of it).

me, a day later:
Hi,

I've been trying to figure out how to answer this... No, I'm not plugged in anywhere. I still have a hard time with churchy things, both on and emotional level (the confinement and obligation bothers me) and as a remaining conflict of life-long agnosticism. Also, I tend to lack self-discipline as far as meaning to attend goes, in large part because my job allows me to work at night (I'm a natural night owl) so waking up in single digit time is difficult for me. And by difficult, I don't mean tedious and painful. I actually get really upset about it and cry very easily. :D

All those excuses aside, I think I am having a hard time reconciling church practice with my life. Without intending to sound like a stereotype, I know that my relationship with my boyfriend is not the ideal, but I also know I don't trust God enough to go any other way at this point and somehow going to church seems... dishonest. I know that church isn't "a museum of saints", but I pray on everything and plead with God to be merciful because honestly, I feel too broken to give up certain parts or patterns within my life that I've come to use as a measure or means of progress and growth.

When I'd met with you guys, this relationship had just started and prior to it, I really had no intention on dating at all. But I had plugged in to Christians a little to ask how a Christian dating relationship is supposed to play out because it just doesn't make sense to me and while the advice I got wasn't all that helpful, I did try to do things differently this time, and I think for the most part, I did grow apart from a lot of the behaviors that used to be staples in my relationships, but some remain- some that aren't "biblical", even if I can't seem to find anywhere in the Bible to back that up properly.

Anyway, I know you're a busy guy so I'll stop there, but I know you've probably heard the same story a thousand times already and hearing "but I'm different" another time doesn't make it any different. I just wanted to be honest...

I am praying on it. I know church is my downfall in Christianity. I've hated church since before I even started school and no matter what the form, it still elicits a strong negative reaction out of me...

Anyhoooo, I should get going to work.

I didn't get a reply. And I know he's a busy guy (I even said it in the email and I mean what I say), but I can't help but feel the way I did when I was agnostic: church Christians love you within the walls of the church and the minute those walls are gone, so is the love. And it burns me up.

And over the past few months (nearly a year since I wrote that email), it's been accumulating in me.

If the love we experience in this world, both the giving and receiving, is meant to show us God, meant as a form of worship, how does this happen in Christian communities? How do so many of the people not know how to love?

And some might reply that they're just human, etc etc, but in my lifetime, if I was to add it all up, I have witnessed more utterly selfless examples of love through atheists and agnostics than I have with religious people of any faith. If we are all just human, why aren't the probabilities even all across the board?

Christianity, if not played right, is a sport of introversion. I have to make me better, I have to serve, I have to repent, I have to pray, I have to stop sinning, no wait, I don't have to stop sinning, I have to love and trust God more. It goes on and on and on and at the end of it, you have a person who is ONLY serving to be (or feel like?) a better person, not because he is a nobody who deserves nothing.

Get unengaged. It reminds me of the blog post I read written by a missionary a couple years ago in which he was absolutely elated that this guy who was cohabitating with his non-believing girlfriend dumped her (FINALLY!) and decided to pursue his faith more determinedly. Is that really a cause for elation? Doesn't anybody know what love is?

There's a passage everybody knows, right? The one everybody uses at their wedding:

1 Corintians 13, from the ESV:

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Let's break it down, shall we?

1. If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
2. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
3. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

What's he saying here about love? Nothing matters, not being supernaturally spiritual, not knowing everything, not being all-faithful, not being generous, not sacrificing yourself, if there is no love? Is that not what he's saying?

4-6. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.

What is love? It is humble, human, selfless and true.

7. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

"Bear" goes two ways, I think. Love allows us to carry weight we wouldn't otherwise be able to carry but it also reveals all things. It has no secrets and hides nothing. And love also gives us hope. It keep us from growing cynical and bitter. Through everything, through all we go through both in our lifetime and as a species in general, love endures. I actually say that to people when I am asked for proof that miracles happen: the fact that we are still able to love when the world is so full of reasons not to (and has always been full of brutal reminders not to- this isn't a new thing), is a miracle. It really, really is. The fact that I am still able to love is a miracle. And on that miracle rests all of the hope I have for anything else in this lifetime and beyond.

8. Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.

It never ends. Humans will come and go. Knowledge will come and go. All things will come and go, but love? Love endures. Love never ceases. What does that say about our daily priorities? What is on top? What should be on top?

9 & 10. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.

Here's where we get into my interpretation, so bear with me if you know more than me. We only barely have a glimpse of the love of God. The sum of every bit of love we absorb and give in our lifetime is only a part of the perfect love we will come to know with God. Imagine that for a second. Imagine that if you spend your entire life loving and that is all you do, you will still end up with only a partial view of what love is.

11. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.
12. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
13. So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

This part, the ESV study Bible jumbles up for me. To me, the child is us in this lifetime, the man is the one who knows God. Now, as children, our view is obscured, we only see part of what it's all about, even if we're face to face with what we're supposed to see. As men, we will see it all and realize how small and naive and dim our perception really was.

And love is most important.

Now you take all that and you compare two versions of how it's played out in our lives.

First, through a dog.

A dog wakes up and is ecstatic that you are there. If you're upset, it tends to you. If you're happy, it feeds off your happiness and reflects it back to you. It lives to see you smile. It lives to see you make the most of every day. It adores you and forgives you, whatever your mood. It regards you through an unwavering childlike perspective, even as the years go by.

Don't you find it odd that you can train a dog from birth to death, teaching them full sentences and even teaching them to ask for what they want, expanding their capacities both physically and mentally until they reach the limits set by the degradation of their abilities due to old age and yet, no matter what we do, what we put these animals through, we can never seem to impart on them our humanly bitterness, cynicism, vengeance and selfishness?

I remember standing with my Boo in an airport waiting for a friend's plane which was hours delayed and these weary travelers got off the plane, and as soon as they saw us in the terminal, the overwhelming majority of the tired, defeated passengers smiled at my Boo. They smiled. It was a beautiful thing to be a part of.

But I'm also admittedly biased in that I believe that dogs are meant to teach us the love of God beyond the capacity of any human.

Every day with a dog is a new day, a fresh day, and everything is forgiven and love is strengthened.

Now let's look at the guy who dumped his non-believing girlfriend. What kind of ripples does that cause?

I know from the perspective of the woman, it will be hard to stave the bitterness, the cynicism, the lack of trust. Will she ever date a Christian again? Will she ever be a Christian? What does she learn about love and loyalty from this experience?

And the guy? Even if Christians (I won't agree with) believe it was not selfish of him to abandon her for his faith, you cannot deny it was selfish of him to leave her behind, was it not?

Get unengaged.

This man I am with is not a Christian (he does believe in God, however). He is also the kindest, most loving, most respectful, most honorable person I have ever met. He wakes up every day and loves me more. And I don't mean the type of thing where our love grows because we've been together for a while, I mean this guy actively grows his love for me. He pursues me and learns about me and asks questions. He encourages me and takes care of me. He pushes me to grow and tells me when I need to fix my junk. He doesn't let me stay the same.

This man embodies everything I know (and hope) to be true about love.

Get unengaged?

To me, that is a terribly unChristian statement.

I live with this man (in sin!) and sleep with this man (also in sin!) and tell this man I love him. What, to me, is the Christian thing to do in this situation?

Love him fully. Commit to him fully by honoring the vows we have already made. Marry him. Follow through with the love I have started such that it will not be unholy. Pursue him. Show him the love that I am capable of through Jesus, through God. Show him that tiny glimpse of God's love through me. Love him unconditionally and selflessly. Respect him and help him to grow into a stronger, more forgiving love.

And in doing so, we will both be an example the world around us that this miracle, this love of which we are not only still capable but also able to grow throughout our lives, is but an immeasurably infinitely small fraction of the love of God.

That, to me, is how this relationship plays out from my perspective as a Christian.

Am I wrong?

On suffering and the limits of being human...

2011-11-21T03:01:00.004-05:00

One of the few verse fragments I had actually heard before I got my Bible a couple years ago was from Matthew 22:46:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

I was listening to a sermon from Tim Keller on suffering (I think it was from a long time ago), and he was saying that the suffering now will make whatever is to come all the more sweet and talked about how the reason Jesus endured such suffering was not to get to heaven, but to get us to heaven, that we were his hope in his time of greatest pain.

And aside from the sermon message, it occurred to me that if Jesus is God, how could He feel abandoned by God? And I know I've heard preachers explain it already, that in that particular moment, because of some accumulation of sins, Jesus was actually apart from God. Some even go so far as to say he went to hell for a while.

But if Jesus was fully human, there could be another explanation.

In the depths of greatest suffering, what happens to us? In the midst of some suffering, we shrug it off. Give us a little more and we're likely to turn to God, right? Given the right conditions, even the non-believers might find themselves pleading with a God they don't otherwise believe in. But throw us into extreme suffering, suffering where the body is absolutely overwhelmed and can feel nothing else but suffering and what happens?

I've never been there, I guess, but at the same time, I suppose my own moments of greatest suffering, even if they're insignificant in the realm of possible suffering, might paint a glimpse of what might happen and I think it really is the feeling of being abandoned by God.

If you're a self-aware believer, you've probably noticed that very many of the atheists you meet carry with them this deep unresolved pain (as do most humans...). And I know in my experience before learning about Jesus, I had it too and it did keep me away from God. If my own family, in particular my own mother, did not love me when they are naturally predestined to love me, then how could God love me and not only that, but why would He allow me to experience such a strong, irreparable abandonment? Those questions, along with the fundamental sorrow I carried with me about them, did keep me from knowing God. It all kept me angry at God, even if I didn't believe in Him at all.

So what if that is a layer to Jesus' death on the cross?

And I also realized that the actual physical death on the cross and its complex multidimensional physical nature has the potential to grasp anybody. I've noticed that people who are afraid of death are left in awe by the fact that Jesus knowingly died, but for people like me, who aren't afraid of death, the dying part isn't the most significant. For us (of course I'm speaking generally), it's the earthly suffering that is what creates awe. He didn't just die knowingly; he endured hours of torture first. Knowingly. That is a sacrifice.

Back to my point. What if the human body in a state of suffering overwhelm detaches in such a way that there is no God? What if God, in all His might and power, is intangible at that level of suffering because our broken body creates this impenetrable wall to block out anything but the knowledge of our suffering? And it would be a wall so strong that even Jesus endured it. It would be a distinct human limit to our connection to God.

Then let's take that concept and modify it to accommodate each individual's ability to cope in the face of suffering, however mild or extreme and then you'd have this sort of human predisposition to losing faith under certain pressures.

And so, under these particular circumstances, depending on our own personal vulnerability, we find ourselves utterly alone, completely abandoned. But we know that Jesus wasn't actually abandoned. We know God never stopped loving Him, right? We know that eventually, Jesus was going to be at the right hand of God. (Or maybe we don't and I'm wrong?) But even if we are limited by the mechanisms we've evolved to cope with suffering, even if those mechanisms might have the potential to bring about a state where faith is impossible, it is also impossible that our perception in that moment causes God's love to cease to exist.. While we might not be able to feel God in that particular moment, God is always there.

And I think, as with anything about God, you can look at it as infinitely vast beyond our realm of knowledge, but you can turn it the other way, into the microscopic aspects of our lives. In moments of great suffering where we are rendered incapable of anything but suffering, God is there and conversely, in moments of minor suffering, even if we aren't overwhelmed and isolated, God is also there.

I don't know- I just thought it made sense as a possibility because if God is God and God influenced the Bible, then without a doubt there are layers in there we can't even begin to analyse.

On the lies demons tell us...

2011-07-20T03:15:00.007-04:00

Me again.

As I do my copying and pasting, as I have been for work for the past... um, longer than I can remember anymore, I finally figured out that it's so mindless that I can listen to sermons again while doing it. And so, until I'm done, which will hopefully be this week, this place will probably be flooded more than usual with sermon snippets. Apologies if you find it dull and/or don't really like Matt Chandler's sermons, but really, I think they're awesome, and so that's how it goes.

So he rambles on (in the sermon from April 10th, 2011, which you can hear/read here) and somewhere near minute twenty, he quotes Colossians 2:13-15:

13 And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, 14. by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. 15 He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.

And then a little later he says this:

Now I love that last line in that text that says, “He puts to open shame the rulers and the principalities.” That’s a reference to demonic creatures. And I know we’re in the West and we want to pretend that stuff is not real, but in the Scriptures and in our experience here as your pastors here, there are demonic activities still very much functioning. Really the sole weapon they have is lying. They just lie and get us to believe lies. And those lies lead us into dark places.

Here’s what the text just said. A couple weeks ago, we were doing baptisms, and the girl who was baptized before my daughter gave this testimony of being sexually abused by a family member who was a deacon at a church. And then another family member did the same thing, which led her into a life of deep darkness, depravity and choosing to be abused by people. In fact, in her testimony, she said, “There are men with a radar for women like me.” She talked about how she had been abused and had just surrendered herself, thinking that she deserved that abuse somehow. Those are dark lies that she has believed. Who is whispering those lies to her? The authorities and principalities of this fallen world. And then yet in the middle of all those lies, being led down dark and deplorable, unspeakable paths, Jesus intervenes. Do you know what’s crazy? She gets in the water in front of a thousand strangers and shares her darkest moments. Do you know what happened in that moment? Jesus just said, “See? I’m better, bigger and stronger than this.”

And sure, anybody who knows me might see how that sort of explanation might affect me directly, even though my story isn't nearly that brutal, but I've never heard demons explained that way. I mean, I've heard them explained in a few ways, mostly with self-destructive behavior alteration, but this is the first time it's been said in a way where the person still makes all their choices on their own, but the information they're given in order to make those choices, and in particular, the information they're given about themselves, is very, very wrong.

And in my own personal story, there was a really distinct and abrupt shift from that perception of me where that treatment was what I deserved to realizing that I could get out of that pattern if I would just call a spade a spade and stop justifying the mistreatment of myself as being something unchangeable or even usual.

And in that sentence, it makes it seem like an easy thing to do, but it really wasn't. I spent months trying to figure out what it was that I was emitting that made me vulnerable, what those men's radar was picking up. And then just like that, a friend last summer told me my perception of events that had transpired in the winter of 2000 were wrong, it negated everything I'd felt about what I deserved in a flash, even though I'd spent the ten years after those events in that same trap of abuse as Matt Chandler described.

The thing with deserving is we don't deserve anything. I think I've talked about it before, either in this blog or the black blog, but even from a natural, non-religious standpoint, we don't deserve anything. I mean, nature is a cruel, cruel game of survival and the fact that we have shelter, that we have food and water, that we have things in our lives that go above and beyond simple survival and that's not enough and we think we deserve things on top of that? It makes no sense. We don't deserve anything. There is no deserving. Even earning is iffy in the world we live in. You earn your living, earn your car, earn your house and then what? It gets wiped away in a tsunami. Just like that, in a second, it's gone. Add to that the disproportionate way that income is inversely related to work and really, what is earned anymore? You have the person working their ass off making minimum wage, going home utterly exhausted and spent physically and emotionally and totally beaten down at the end of the day and you have the executive who spends three hours of his workday on facebook.

So what is it that makes us feel we deserve anything?

But what I never realized in having that point of view is that I also held the opposite view. It's not that I deserve nothing at all, which really is what not deserving anything is, right? No, instead, all along, I've believed I deserve bad things. I deserved to be abused. I deserved to be mistreated. And it was only when Matt Chandler used that word that it clicked.

I've never said I have bad luck, but I have said I am unlucky in some aspects of life. To me, they're not the same. One implies junk is forced upon you as though you're some sort of victim, while the other, I felt, was more proactive. I tried, I did my best to remain idealistic and to stave off the cynicism, but in the end those aspects of my life just weren't meant to go well. But I didn't stop trying, even though I "knew" that. But the thing is, when you try and try and try all while believing you deserve horrible things, you will get those horrible things.

And I did analyse to death how those men got into my life, and I did find a pattern wherein they'd hurt me or reject me in some brutal, blatant way and when I wouldn't leave, when I'd forgive them and move on, that's when they knew. Whether it was conscious or not on their part, it was the same in every abusive relationship I've been in so far. And because I craved that indifference because I thought that was all there was out there because it was all I knew, I stayed and in staying, I shut myself off to any other possibilities.

But really, when I found God, or God picked me, stuff started to fall apart. How could God love me, how could I be a child of God, and- not that He'd let these things happen, but that He'd let me do these things to myself- how could He not make me feel loved enough to not even know what kind of love to hope for? And it made no sense because He made me loving. He made me forgiving. He made me strong enough to not carry a grudge (in the majority of situations anyway). What if God's example for love in my life was me all along? How could selfless, sacrificial love not exist if that was how I was living?

Or at least, striving to live.

And then that friend said without using the words, "You were loved; it just didn't come across that way," and things changed. There was love for me in the world, but I was missing it.

And so, I kind of do believe that explanation of demons. Not to shield myself from responsibility, but people say I'm fairly self-aware, but how else could I miss something so huge?

On idols and love...

2011-07-16T03:16:00.006-04:00

From Matt Chandler's sermon given on March 20, 2011, questions which he says he took from Tim Keller originally:

So how do you identify idols? I have ten questions to ask yourself:
1. What consumes most of your thoughts and feelings?
2. What motivates the things that you do?
3. What are you most afraid of?
4. What brings the highest amount of frustration or anger into your life?
5. What is one thing that can change your mood in a second?
6. What would your friends say is your favorite topic of conversation?
7. What are some things that you feel you can’t live without?
8. What brings you solace?
9. What do you yearn for?
10. What is one thing that you wish God would do for you?
If you begin to answer those questions, you’ll be able to find your idols. Because what you think about, what you yearn for, what you talk about, what you want God to do for you, what drives you, what makes you angry, what satisfies you and what brings you comfort is what you worship.

I figure the best way to answer those questions is to just whip out answers as fast as possible without thinking. Here are mine.

1. Everything. There’s no real singular subject, but it’s everything. My dad refers to it as my anxiety, but it’s not usually anxiety so much as trying to figure things out. Assessment, I guess.
2. Love. More specifically, to be loved.
3. Everything. Life itself.
4. Lack of control.
5. Hard to put into words, but there are these moments where I’m the bad guy and I’m going to lose somebody and I have zero control over what they will do with me next. In those moments, I am ruined for the day. It doesn’t help that they’re usually brought on by things I’ve said or done that I really shouldn’t have.
6. Dogs. Probably. But I talk a lot, so I’m not sure that’s the only subject they might pick up on.
7. A car. Cars are freedom. And my dogs. Dogs are joy and family. Comfort and protection, I guess, is what I get from both.
8. Nothing. God, I guess, because nothing of this world brings me solace. It’s a major complaint lately. I have no escape. I have no tv, I have no substance that I can take to take me away and people would say the internet is my solace, but really, it’s more work than it is fun most of the time. It’s not relaxing. Writing does give me some relief, but I haven’t gone without it in over four years so I don’t know how big of a part it plays. You can always write- wherever you are. There’s always a pen and a receipt or business card or whatever. And if you know yourself well enough, you can write tiny and in code to fit it all in.
9. Happiness, I guess. Just knowing what that feels like. Maybe I already have it but I just don’t realize that this is what happiness feels like.
10. Love me. I wish I could know it’s there. I wish I could feel it even if I don’t feel it directly. You know? I wish I could be sure of it. Same goes for earthly loves too. I’m not even sure my own dogs love me.

Sometimes, I wish my idols were the easy ones, like money or lust or stuff. Or maybe they are easy ones and I just don’t see it. The most obvious one is my dogs but even then, I don’t think they’re idols so much as a part of my life I know a lot about and that just makes me laugh every day. They’re a source of a lot of stories. But I guess that’s it, right? If God is everything, shouldn’t He be a source of stories? I never do talk about God. Well, not never, but rarely. Of all the things I talk about, His pepperings are probably among the rarest. Shyness, I guess. How do you talk about greatness without ruining it? It’s like trying to describe how the Rockies make you feel to somebody who has never been. (Except that there's a 98% chance that they're somehow adamantly opinionated and confrontational about whether or not mountains exist.)

The other most obvious one is control. There are two instances of control with which I have the most trouble. One is the one I talked about in #5 and the other is with my dogs in public. I got yelled at by neighbors in the city so often that I am actually still quite scared of walking them in the daytime. I'm on high alert the entire time, waiting for somebody to come out and scream at me. As a result, if I'm out with my dogs in the daytime, I stress an enormous amount over the control I have over them. If they do something out of line, I panic. I become so easily frustrated because of the tenseness of the situation that the whole ordeal becomes so unpleasant that I just won't do it. I'll either walk them in the middle of the night or not at all.

I guess if I branch that out further, the overall theme is that I can't make mistakes. Whether I make a mistake in a relationship or I make what some stranger perceives as a mistake, I lose the control. I lose my confidence and my equality. All of a sudden, I'm the underdog and there's nothing I can do about it. In those moments, to be honest, I loathe myself.

Because if I was good enough, if I was a quality individual, I could make mistakes and people would forgive me. But since I'm not, people don't forgive me and instead, choose to walk out of my life completely or berate my person without any regard for me as a soul. Evidently, my quality of person makes it such that either one of those becomes easy.

And there is the other point Matt Chandler made in the same sermon:

The Bible is filled with shady characters. And this goes back to the point that the book is about the mercy and beauty of God in Christ and not you and me. Because almost all the men and women in Scripture are these abject failures who God uses mightily. Why? Because the point is Him, not you. So for those of you who like the other end of the spectrum where you loathe yourself, that’s just as much idolatry as loving yourself. Both are saying, “I have no need of the cross of Christ.” Both are wrong.

Right there, the point being I should be allowed to make mistakes, I should be allowed to fail and I should be allowed to just be me because that's enough. I may not be the best and I may not be perfect, but God made me lovable.

Jesus, the most loving character ever written, was sacrificed to make me perfect and take away my profound failings and to make me enough just as I am.

One day, I'll figure it out. Maybe.

And until then, it (this particular bit of idolatry), among many other things, will stand between me and God, from my end, not His.

Always critical...

2011-07-15T18:52:00.008-04:00

There are some things I find difficult about the church structure. And I'm always hesitant to say anything about it (even though this blog would suggest otherwise) because I really don't want to be the one who sits on the outside and tells the inside how to do its thing. But there are two things a few pastors seem to do that I've noticed a lot lately that just lose me.

1. Rehoming animals.
This one, if you know me at all, is kind of obvious. If somebody rehomes a dog, I immediately begin to question their person. To discard a dog is to discard a soul. It's to actively participate in the emotional scarring of an individual. It's also to throw that individual you've scarred onto somebody else.

Sure, life as a pastor is rough. I don't doubt it. But how many pastors these days say church comes in fourth on the priority list?

1. God
2. Wife
3. Family
4. Church

Seems to me that a dog would fit in #3. And not only is the emotional scarring of the abandoned dog significant, the negative lessons it teaches your children and those around you about loyalty, unconditional love and frankly, the elderly are also very important.

Dogs, I think, are a gift from God to show us what unconditional love looks like. They're meant to help us understand how to give sacrificially and how to put aside the events of our day and love wholeheartedly as if that were all that mattered.

Something about a pastor rehoming a dog, especially an elderly one, makes me question whether he knows love at all. How can he teach the love of God when he has no respect for the love of a dog? I'm serious too. Dogs don't need much and as they grow older; they need less and less (albeit more in vet bills sometimes). To abandon a faithful friend as they enter into their older years where they require compassion and the fulfillment of trust is just cruel. It's blatantly unloving. And somehow, I still hold pastors above regular people in that sense. They should love more. They should strive to love harder and fuller than the rest of us.

And really, if you foresee a pastoral life in your future, don't get a dog if you can't prioritize properly. Be responsible.

2. One-sided communication.
In another lifetime, I joined a pet forum on the internet. At the time, I was pretty sick and couldn't really do anything with myself, so I decided to try to help people with their dogs online. When I first got there, there were about twenty threads updated every day. It wasn't that many in spite of the admin's bloated membership number.

Once in a while, somebody would post a thread with some obscure medical issue that nobody knew anything about. They'd be upset and you could kind of tell by the tone of their post that they'd be sitting there waiting for a response. And I won't hesitate to say that a couple times after I was made more aware of those empty threads, that person was me. I remember asking how to train Jemma when she overreacts in a very negative way to any sort of correction. At the time, she had really low estrogen too, so that contributed to her submissive upset. Nobody answered. I remember feeling hopeless and a little bit rejected.

All that to say, I quickly learned that people just want an ear most of the time. They don't necessarily need all the answers but they do want somebody to hear them and just be there. And on this forum, it was a little bit of an extreme because of the panic that sets in when somebody we love is afflicted with something we can't figure out, but on a lower level, this happens everywhere with everybody in every situation.

A commenter on that forum who appeared out of nowhere one time, commented that this Prin person (i.e. me) had a "sickness" whereby she'd answer everything. And I did. I tried my best to answer all the threads nobody would answer, even if just to push it back up to the new threads so somebody with actual answers would see it.

When I left that forum a few years ago, the daily thread count had risen from the twenty or so when I'd arrived to around 120. And it's not just because of me. Other people started doing the same and it became a really caring forum. People listened. They tried to help. It was great.

I still try to do it now, in my daily life. I try to hear when somebody just needs an ear- although sometimes, it's hard not to offer unsolicited advice. I've been told that somehow, people feel they can open up to me and say things they wouldn't otherwise say out loud. I love that. I love the privilege of people letting me in.

Pastors have that privilege built into their role. People open up. People want to be heard. People want direction or at the very least, understanding.

A pastor has to reply. Has to. I understand schedules are tight and pastors are pulled every which way, but still, there has to be a way, even if that way is finding a volunteer who will help you sort through your email or phone messages or other requests. You have to answer.

Nothing makes a person feel invisible quite like being asked, "How are you?" and being shut down during the reply. Sure, in some parts of society, people ask that question without meaning, but a pastor is supposed to care. And worse still is the next time the person is asked the same question. How do you answer a question to which the asker has already expressed no interest in hearing an answer?

You just stop answering. You shut down. You build a boundary between you and your pastor and that boundary makes the relationship superficial and uncaring. It makes it so that you and your pastor will never become more than acquaintances who exchange meaningless pleasantries.

And I honestly don't think any pastor goes into ministry with that kind of goal for personal relationships.

Answer the emails. Answer the phone calls. Learn to communicate so that your replies are thick and juicy and the interaction can be short and fulfilling.

Learn to communicate so that, as tight as your schedule gets, nobody feels left behind.

Learn to communicate.

Because really, who cares if you give three hundred talks and write seventeen books this year when nobody (as far as I know) has felt true community from a book? Or even a lecture? Who cares when none of those words you put out makes anybody feel loved? Who cares when all the effort you put into those endeavors is not felt at a level of personal connection?

Stop putting effort into things that seem big but do nothing for the people you love or are called to love. Who cares if the biggest pastor in the United States thinks your book is great when your most loyal church member's life is falling apart and you're just not there? Who cares if other pastors lift you up when you slap away the hands reaching out to you?

It's the little things that count.

On secrets...

2011-06-15T02:18:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about secrets lately. I'm not a very secretive person and as such, the life dramas I get into tend to be of a different nature than people taking issue with me as a result of some inconsistency or omission on my part.

But secrets and misunderstandings wherein both parties lack forgiveness and empathy tend to be the main driver of television and movies on the whole, and I find that sad. It's sad because even if you know what's going to happen, even if you see it coming the entire time you're watching and you know how it'll end, so many people do it in their own lives anyway, as if they are somehow immune to being outed.

In truth, they are immune, for the most part. In this society where everybody talks and nobody listens, you can say pretty well anything, truth or not, and very few will take notice. Even fewer will notice when something has been omitted. We're all very busy in our lives, right? Too busy to reply to emails, too busy to return calls and too busy to worry about whether or not those in our entourage are genuine.

We've stopped caring also because even if those in our entourage are found to be disingenuous or blatantly devious, we can just discard them, as loyalty these days is scarce, if at all existent.

But the thing is, Matthew chapter 9 says this:

3 And behold, some of the scribes said to themselves, “This man is blaspheming.” 4 But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, “Why do you think evil in your hearts? 5 For which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’? 6 But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then said to the paralytic—“Rise, pick up your bed and go home.”

And Matthew 12:25 starts in a similar way as verse four above. So if the Bible is true and Jesus is God and Jesus hears thoughts, then what of secrets?

There's endless talk about how the Bible says we should or should not live, and yet, openness seems so frowned upon among Christians I know.

When a pastor asked me a few weeks ago how I was doing and if I was involved in a church, I took my time answering. I could have gone two ways: I could have answered no, but I'm still looking, or I could have answered honestly. I chose to do the latter.

I explained things from the perspective that from all I've learned through the teachings of my favorite pastors, there is a distinct difference between living in sin while living a life of repentance and living in sin knowingly all while refusing to change anything about it. I am living in the latter.

I'm living with my boyfriend now, as of May first. We're not married. We do plan on getting married eventually, but we're not engaged either. And God only knows how often even the best laid plans fall through, in spite of all the wishful thinking.

So there it was, laid out as text on a screen, honest and in an effort to state where I am, how I'm doing, why I'm not in church without making excuses for myself.

And I know most people these days- Christians or not- wouldn't really see the sin in living with one's boyfriend before marriage if marriage is intended, even if there is a strong statistical possibility of dissolution. (That statistic is much higher for people who live together prior to getting engaged.) But the difference here is that I know it's not what God intends. It's the knowledge that creates the problem here. It's what makes this rebellion against what God intends for me.

While I don't repent and make my boyfriend move out or marry me immediately, I do pray a lot. I pray that God would make of my mistakes godliness and guide me to what He intends for me anyway, even if I trip on my own feet the entire way. I pray it because I want to know what it feels like to have what God wants for me, even if I'm too cynical, controlling and distrusting to allow it and plan it for myself. I want to not be wrong about the outcome of this. I want this guy to be the guy I commit to forever because we find ourselves in this situation already and because that is the only way to honor God through this blatant rebellion. If I refuse to repent by going backwards and undoing things that have been done, then I will repent by moving forwards toward what will hopefully make this right.

But I digress.

My point is, I was open and honest and didn't get a reply. Maybe my email got lost. Maybe. Or maybe he just didn't know how to respond.

But I find myself protecting the Christians I know from me. I find myself censoring myself, not for my own protection but for theirs, as if somehow they believe that their own faith is so fleeting that to be touched by the sin of another individual, however minor or major, will be the end of their own relationship with God.

How well do you trust God if those around you have to keep themselves secret in order to protect you? Does it imply such a strong lack when even the people around you see it?

But what of these secrets? If I had told the pastor everything was fine and I was still on the hunt for a church where I'd fit in, cleverly omitting the part where very few gospel-centered churches would allow me to fit in in my current circumstance, what would that serve? Is he better off for it? Am I better off for it?

In this society where nobody is listening anyway, what difference does it make? I could have just as easily not even replied.

But you can't compartmentalize truth. You can't compartmentalize honesty. It's either your everything or it's nothing at all. Ultimately, there are no secrets from God.

So really, what difference does it make? It depends on where your heart is, I guess.

Something's not right...

2011-03-24T12:39:00.003-04:00

One of the "versions" of Hell that was explained to me at some point was the idea that Hell isn't a flamey pit of intolerable heat for eternity but an absence of God. On the other hand, Heaven would be where we get to see the big picture. We get to stand with God and learn what all this was for.

If that is the case, then atheists would have their way. Upon dying, they would simply die, as they tend to predict, and that would be it. No afterlife, no judgment, just an eternity dead. That eternity, of course, being spent apart from God without ever knowing what this life was about and without knowing the essence of who God is.

But if that is the case, that would imply then that those who spend their lives believing but come up short of salvation would endure a more painful eternity without God because they would know that God does indeed exist. Not only that, but they would have faced Him for judgment and the Bible tends to say that being in the presence of God is something we just are not equipped to handle because He is simply too great and too Holy.

Also, if that is the case, it would imply that God is not enough. It would imply that even if we'd know God upon our earthly death, the real benefit of Heaven would be to finally have the answers to the questions we'd spent this entire lifetime asking.

So then what is Heaven and what is Hell? Or do we have the right to know as Christians? Because shouldn't God be enough? Shouldn't we be focused on Him anyway, rather than projecting the outcomes of our curiosities onto the future to appease our worries and falsely stifle the unknowns?

What if only God knows what happens after this? Shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't we trust Him enough?

Romans and I don't get along. (Still.)

2010-12-28T23:32:00.006-05:00

Romans 9:1-3:
1 I am speaking the truth in Christ—I am not lying; my conscience bears me witness in the Holy Spirit— 2 that I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. 3 For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh.

The ESV study Bible says this about it:

Paul suffers from great anguish because his Jewish kinsmen are unsaved (see also 10:1). Indeed, if it were possible, Paul might almost choose to be accursed (to suffer God's punishment in hell) so that his fellow Jews would be saved (cf. Moses in Ex. 32:30–32). But he knows this would achieve nothing, for none but Christ could be any person's substitute to bear God's wrath.

So let me see if I have this right. Paul would sacrifice himself such that his fellow Jews would be saved but that would be futile because only Jesus can do that. Right? But being that he wrote that in Romans, which was written after Jesus' crucifixion, doesn't that mean... that... Jesus already did that? Or was what Jesus did not as good as what Paul would have done had he been the one sent to be the sacrifice?

You know what I mean?

Why, by human standards, does it seem through this passage and its ESV explanation that what Jesus did was incomplete? Why didn't Jesus sacrifice Himself so that all of us could be saved?

And if He did, why doesn't Paul believe it?

On not deciding how or when God will show you things...

2010-10-03T02:42:00.002-04:00

I suppose I should blog here once in a while. I think about it all the time. I just don't know what to write. I'm in a period of reflection lately, far less studying, falling behind in all the sermons I used to keep up with. But this time is different than usual. Most of the time, when I go through periods of withdrawal from God and from passionate learning, it's some sort of rebellion. This time, it's not. This time, it's more of a wall I'm hitting but through circumstance as of late, I might actually get through it.

See, there is a boy who is quite fond of me. But the whole situation is unsettling because of a post I wrote here a while back about God loving me. I won't go back and read it because I don't want to affect my memory of it for the sake of this post, but the way I remember it, I wondered why I expect God to take it all away from me all the time. Why would a loving God, who wants to see me smile once in a while, always be threatening to take everything I love away?

And so there's this boy and no matter how hard it is to admit it, I adore him. And I do know that it's all in God's hands and God could very well take it all away from me at any moment, but I know we'll be ok, regardless of what happens. I know that I am a child of God first and everything else comes second, if at all.

But I also know that it is so hard for me to trust.

And I can't help but wonder how God feels about all this because I haven't ever smiled this way. I haven't ever had somebody love me this way. And all the other times in the recent past, I remember having to shut my God off before interacting and this time, I don't. He isn't a Christian, though, but does appreciate my perspective. He lets me talk about God and he actually listens and feeds off my passion. In the land where angry atheism reigns, it's really amazing to be able to talk openly with somebody I love about the God things. So for once, my interactions feed my faith rather than put it on the back burner.

But there is this trust thing. Does God really want me to be happy? Isn't that a frivolous thought? Don't we grow more in suffering? Don't we look to God more in pain?

Sometimes, rainclouds are necessary for life, but when they break in the dark of night and reveal the stars, we find God there also. And I do have to trust that God does want me to see Him in the stars and the things of beauty and the feelings of awe. And I have to trust that God might also want to teach me to love Him more through bonding me to another person to my utmost human ability. I have to trust that I am not certain that my life will be spent as some sort of modern day, first world martyr. It is not a certainty as much as anything else is.

Why would God take away everything I love to test my love for Him, when it's my sadness and brokenness that I cling to most?

When he hugs me, I look different. My eyes change and I see myself as he describes me. I don't see the sadness I thought was me. I never realized how much I'd come to rely on something that is actually supposed to be temporary as my baseline for existence.

I wasn't depressed. I mean, I may have had instances, sure, but on the whole, I was doing alright. But I had so little trust in God's love for me that the only good things I ever expected were the ones that never left my imagination. And while it seems terribly sad to never expect anything good in one's own reality, I am eternally grateful that my imagination never dulled. I thank God for that.

And so now, this man, this absolute figment of my imagination, who seems to love me so perfectly, becomes reality and in doing so, is teaching me to let go of my fear of God a little and embrace the kind mercy and love of God a little more.

Even though so many seem to take that for granted, it always feels like one of the hardest things for me to grasp.

On mixed metaphors, parallels and the anthropomorphism of God...

2010-08-15T03:16:00.006-04:00

Everything happens for a reason. People always say that, but usually, they mean it in the future, as if at some point eventually, things will make sense and without this particular event, other important events might not transpire in its wake. But when I say it, I mean it now. It's like how we're taught in high school English classes how authors of books write deliberately, choosing names that are symbolic in some way, times of day that are pertinent to the mood of the story and so on.

I have no idea what will happen later and to chalk something current up as a lesson for later irks me. It's like that other saying people have, "It'll be ok." Man, I hate that expression. That's all it is, really- an expression. Because you have no idea what will happen and have absolutely no assurances that it actually will be ok.

I remember failing a test one time, and I knew I'd failed it just because I didn't even answer enough questions to pass had I gotten them all perfectly right. And I came out and told a friend of mine that I'd failed it and she answered, "Don't worry. It'll be ok. I'm sure you'll pass." And I looked at her and said, "No, I'm telling you I failed." And she just kept reassuring me. I didn't get it. Facts are facts. I failed. There was no reassurance in the form of a potential for passing to be had. The only reassurance was that maybe the prof would alter the grading scheme overall and give this test less weight or something like that.

But I digress.

Everything happens for a reason.

And I used to sit in traffic every day for anywhere between forty-five minutes and three hours and the whole time, I'd listen to sermons. Well, sometimes, I'd listen to music, but I tend to listen to the same songs repeatedly and after a while, it just gets irritating (don't ask me why I don't just change songs...), so I'd end up back on the sermons. They're always different. And I quickly became overloaded with thoughts and newly learned things which stirs up the passion in me.

But lately, I've been working from home and trying not to drive anywhere and when I do drive, it's been so long since I listened to music that hearing the same song over and over doesn't irk me. And so I've fallen ridiculously behind in the sermons, which kind of sucks because I do miss the passion that was stirred up every time an awesome pastor would tell it like it is and I'd have the heart to listen.

Today, I found myself shattered. But not the usual shatterings that I ramble on and on about on my other blog. This one was different. Over the course of a regular conversation with a boy I'd been talking to a bit more lately, he said one word, in context obviously, and that one word shot my guard up so fast that I felt it. It spooked me so quickly and abruptly and completely shut me down. One word.

And the word?

Picnic.

I won't get into the context or anything, but it had absolutely nothing to do with me anyway. It wasn't like I was going to a picnic or I was invited to one in any way or anything of that nature. It was independent of me, but the important thing was my reaction to it. That one word took away every ounce of trust I had had in an instant. Every ounce of idealistic hopefulness too.

But everything happens for a reason. I got into my car because that's what I do when I need a breather, and I threw on a sermon. It was a relatively old one, but I'm so behind that it's new to me. And so my favorite theology pastor started talking in the sixteen or however many speakers my car ridiculously has and the first thing he talked about was how he was asked to preach but he's terrified of public speaking. He wouldn't give in to the shackles of fear, he said. And so there he was, standing up there in front of a crowd and speaking out of my pajillion speakers a month and a half later too. About fear.

Timing is everything.

I have to paraphrase because the more I start and stop my ipod, the shorter the sermon gets and I'm far too lazy to turn on my desktop and wait a half hour for it to finish doing what it does to warm up. I hope I don't get it too wrong...

At one point, he said something like, "Life is a river but it doesn't flow toward God. It flows away from God. [...] And if you lift your paddles, you drift downstream." Apathy creates drifting. Complacency. And he said he doubted that there were many people who actively decided to harden their hearts to God, but that's this sort of process that happens when you just stop paddling and bit by bit, let go.

But I think I am one of those "not many". If I am drifting away, because I know I've stopped paddling, it's not passive for the most part. It's angry and deliberate.

He went on to ask why we'd go back to these inferior things when Jesus is better? What Jesus gives us trumps all. Why would we choose to pursue other things, even minor distractions, instead of Him?

And I think of my anger and that's what it's about. I know what God wants or I know the basic idea anyway, but I just don't believe it. And that's what I figured out today, after being shattered by fear. My fear and my shattering were the result of me drowning in mistrust.

God's word that shuts me down is heaven. I don't believe it. No, that's not entirely true. I don't believe in it for me. And I don't know what it is exactly, whether it's an actual place or just being with God or getting to see the full picture to finally understand why we had to endure all this, but somehow, whatever heaven is, I don't mind not finding out. I don't expect to get to heaven, and more accurately, I expect not to.

So why would I paddle so hard?

I love that God loves me now. I love that He loves me right now, in my not-so-perfect state, without me having to tidy up my person and my life to impress Him first. And I do hope that God will love me forever, but I guess I don't trust that He will. Maybe I'm one of those vessels He'll use to draw other people to Him without me actually knowing Him in the end. Or maybe it's something else that I'm unaware of, but what it comes down to is even if I believe that God picked me and beat me with a sledge hammer so that I'd finally see Him, I still don't believe that we're in this for the long haul.

And so I stop paddling. And I still love God, and I still see Him everywhere and in everything. But I'm not worth the effort.

What the boy's word meant to me was that I was an insignificant one of many. So I stopped paddling towards him too, but the parallels between the two situations made me more aware of how much I still project my feelings of being unlovable on God too.

It's so hard to pray for me still, both prayers from others and me praying for myself. It makes me so uncomfortable. I am ok with being a sort of tool for some sort of purpose without actually knowing God in the end, not because I don't want to know God, but because I expect Him not to want to know me, but if He could at least use me so I could serve some sort of benefit somehow, then that's ok.

And suddenly, God is every person and in particular, every man, who has ever crossed my path. Especially the men.

My God is the great God of the universe, and I don't give Him more credit than that.

But everything happens for a reason in this story. I've often wondered how books, especially ones on controversial subjects can have multiple authors. I co-authored a blog for a while and when they'd change some minor formatting things in my posts, it pissed me right off. And here I am, struggling to equally co-author this life with God, trying to piss Him off enough so He'll leave so I can run this show alone. I mean I'm the Princess of this story, right? Nevermind that I wasn't there when they handed out the names.

But at the same time, as the pastor said, "If you want cement to harden, just stop stirring," I know that even before I let God happen in my life, I did stop stirring many times and God stirred for me. When I gave up, somehow I kept going. When I was completely trapped, somehow I got set free. And now I know it was God. It was God stirring my cement when I was determined to let it harden.

But I still don't trust Him. I don't trust anybody. I love people with all my person, but they can't love me back, not even God.

And so I hold up my paddles, look up to God, shrug and say, "I just can't do it," and let go, drifting downstream until I become invisible...

... secretly hoping He'd keep stirring my cement anyway.

On failing the "stuff"...

2010-08-07T14:36:00.012-04:00

I'm angry at God lately and I couldn't figure out why. I don't understand why He couldn't have laid out this faith thing in such a way that it fit every day life a little more easily. Instead, though random conversations with random people, I get to hear constant reminders about how absurd Christianity is and how ridiculously thoughtless its followers are.

Can you have God without the religion?

In theory, yes. But then if you believe in Jesus too, you get into the part where you ask yourself how it is that you know who Jesus is? You know Him through the Bible and the Bible preaches the structures and doctrines of religion.

I can't help but wonder if we're in a third era of the Bible. First, you had the sort of angry God full of rules part, then you had the redeemed by Christ part which negated most of the rules so people had to live differently than they were before under the rule of the angry God, and now we have this part. It's the post-Jesus, post-Bible era. It's the part where we've learned not only how not to live a life focused on appeasing the angry God, but also to take the new relationship with God through the sacrificing of Jesus for granted.

And I'm not sure that the way to fix that, the steps to improve this situation, are to revert to the practices of faith written in the Bible. We're not those people. We're not the ones who prioritize rules and decorum over God. Instead, we're the ones who seek constant freedom without realizing that it's from God. We're the ones who run away from God by excessively loving the gifts He's given us. We're the ones who actually love God already, but refuse to call it that.

As time progresses, I feel like I am losing my faith simply because I can't follow the rules. (And yes, "won't" substitutes nicely there, but I'm implying a stronger and more beligerant "won't" based on the fact that if I try, I doom myself to failure every time. Same goes for the rest of this paragraph.) I can't go to church. I can't read my Bible extensively every day. I don't look forward to the textbook slash ritual aspects of what to me is simply religion and not God.

Yes, we have to learn and yes, we need community. But what if our community is in a different form than the ones depicted in the Bible?

If nobody in my circles would set foot into a church by their own will, how is Jesus using the church to draw people to Him?

On the other hand, if we live in such a way that we can find way to integrate God into every thought and every action throughout the day, such that He becomes like breathing or any other unconscious function of the body, then we will end up presenting a picture to the world of a life with God that is actually doable and reasonable.

But maybe that's lazy. Right? Not going to church, not being bound by the rituals of religion, not forcing yourself to read chunks of the Bible every day, sitting at home listening to sermons in your pyjamas... It's laziness, right? It shows a lack of appreciation for God. But on the other hand, forcing yourself to do all those things shows a lack of appreciation for God's grace also. And really, if you believe in an almighty God of the universe who knows your thoughts before you think them and who chooses who has faith and when, then wouldn't said God be able to guide you to a rich knowledge without the religion? Couldn't He pepper our lives with situations that reveal to us our heart and the nature of God? Couldn't He move us in some way to get us to see His character?

If God chooses somebody in some sort of religious desert to have faith, then wouldn't said person have all the tools necessary to have faith and to know God? If the great God of the universe didn't account for the absence of resources when He chose this person, then He's not really a great God of the universe afterall.

So yeah, I am lazy. And I asked God to help me with that. But in the meantime, why shouldn't I be able to love God wholly and feel God with me? Why does it depend so heavily on the "stuff" and not the heart?

But then, if I read the Bible, Jesus basically says that- it is about the heart.

Then why do I feel like I'm constantly doing it wrong?

So I am angry at God. He created a situation wherein He'll love me unconditionally provided I do the "stuff". He explained what real love was in Luke ch 6 in the sermon on the mount, a pure and selfless love, and then made it all meaningless if I don't wedge myself into a pew every week for an hour of false love and false community torture.

Don't get me wrong- maybe your church is your community and you love the people there. That's great for you. But I don't feel at home in church, even in my favorite ones. It feels forced and contrived and entirely unnatural for me. And the fact that I've been made aware that the love often stops when you stop attending the church, that it doesn't transfer into real life, doesn't help. Sometimes, it does though. Sometimes, Christians do actually love people, regardless of circumstance. And in those situations, it reinforces in me that the church is apart from the building, that the community is my own and the knowledge of God can be shared rather than learned from a textbook all the time.

All I know is that if God knows who I am, then He'll know how I express my faith and when I need help with it. And He knows where my heart is. And He feels me struggling. And all I need is exactly that- to know that He's with me and to know that He knows me. If I can keep that, then I think I just may be alright.

On idealism and the value of a person...

2010-08-01T21:06:00.009-04:00

Alternate title: On prayer... again...

When I pray, which lately has become a little more frequent, yet not as frequent as it used to be, I remember Moses praying in Exodus 32:11-14:

11 But Moses implored the LORD his God and said, “O LORD, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you have brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? 12 Why should the Egyptians say, ‘With evil intent did he bring them out, to kill them in the mountains and to consume them from the face of the earth’? Turn from your burning anger and relent from this disaster against your people. 13 Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, to whom you swore by your own self, and said to them, ‘I will multiply your offspring as the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your offspring, and they shall inherit it forever.’” 14 And the LORD relented from the disaster that he had spoken of bringing on his people.

He basically says, "if you kill the Israelites, everybody else will wonder what kind of God you are. They'll see you make promises you don't intend to keep and that your intentions are evil and you don't want that, right? Show them instead that you're merciful and gracious and love us. And that's how they'll see you."

And my reference for prayer, even if the usual suggestion is Jesus' teaching of the Lord's prayer later on.

If God answers prayers to glorify Himself, then the way we should pray should reflect that also. Instead of asking God to heal a sick child because she's suffering and in pain (which without a doubt God hates), I'll ask God to glorify Himself through His mercy and healing. I'll say to God, "Here's your chance to make yourself known. If you do this, they'll have no choice but to respond."

Of course, the majority of the time, I'm wrong. I'll ask God to do the impossible for somebody who doesn't believe, and God will do the impossible and I'll be filled with this sort of unmatchable awe and my friend, upon whom the results of my prayer are bestowed, rejects it all. Sure, they might be grateful for the healing or whatever else it was, but they still won't thank God for it. And so feeling a little humbled, I return to God and apologize for my arrogant certainty and my unrelenting idealism.

And other times, they do know it and God is glorified and it makes prayer all the more amazing and full.

But then there are the selfish things, which I don't understand how people can ask of God. "Please, God, give me this promotion." Or "Please God, let my kid win his softball game." I don't get those. At best, God will ignore you and teach you some more profound lesson you totally deserve to learn. At worst, He'll give you everything you want and you'll eventually stop looking to Him for things.

And I know part of it is my skewed perception, as one friend put it, that everything good is undeserved and the bad things are just my fate and so I never dared to ask for anything, except maybe a little bit of guidance and healing.

But lately, I've found myself asking for more. After getting a glimpse of what life would be like if I had a soulmate, I started to ask God for more. But I know He won't do it if it's just for me, just a selfish ask, and if by chance, He does, I don't want such a selfish prayer answered either. It's too risky. And then as I thought of reasons why God should listen to me on this one, I realized it might not be nearly as selfish a prayer as it felt originally. So instead, I found myself asking God differently: "Glorify Yourself in me too," I said. "Take this girl with a beat up, broken past who can't be loved and let her show the world what love can be like in spite of that brokenness. Because to let me live the end of this life too broken to love anymore... It just makes me a horrible example of Your mercy and grace and healing. Heal me while everybody's watching. Restore me so they can know how good You are."

Maybe it's still selfish. And maybe it's not meant to be. But I have to believe that God will heal me. I have to because it hurts too much otherwise.

So maybe it's selfish, but at the same time, I find myself more afraid of Him healing me and me losing this need to press into Him to get through the suffery bits, which is actually even more selfish because not only am I not glorifying God to those around me because everything relating to Him is in suffering, but also because I'm isolating myself and I'm not loving people the way I used to. It's not good for anybody.

On the other hand, if I pray for everybody and never pray for me, I'm not loving one of God's children properly. And I'm also not trusting that God loves me as much as anybody else either.

I just really hope that people don't look at my life for all its brokenness and use it as a reason to dissociate from God. I hope they don't say things like, "See? She believed in God and where did it get her?" Because you know, even if my life ends tomorrow, what it got me was God. I did get to feel loved for the first time in my life. And that's not nothing. That's everything. I just wish I could make it more obvious, even if I should know by now that even if Jesus Himself stood in front of some people, they'd still say He didn't exist.

On loving till it hates...

2010-07-11T13:26:00.008-04:00

Listening to Tim Keller's sermon on marriage (I think it's called "Marriage: Part 3" or something), he talked about how when you put too much value into something, it will end up crushing you and ultimately falling apart. And even though this is Tim Keller's usual idolatry line of thinking, this time it was slightly different. He talked about parents who physically (or verbally, I guess too) abuse their kids. He said (paraphrased), "It's not that they hate their kids. It's that they love them too much." And he went on to describe how that works, and it made me wonder things.

My dad was a single dad with three kids- two boys, ages seven and three, and me, two. And over the years, I've come to empathize with his situation more and more, the more I realize how difficult it must have been to feed us, clothe us, look out for us, teach us, nurture us, and discipline us all completely and entirely alone. We lived in the country, away from everybody, away from all family. Apparently, they'd tried to get him to move to the city earlier, but he wouldn't. And he'd raise us likewise, without the ability (or with far too much pride) to ask for help.

I can't imagine being a single parent with three kids, let alone having two of them still in the toddler stage of life. And add to that a full time job in the city with an hour commute each way on a good day. I can't imagine.

So I empathize. I would lose it too. In an effort to get some sort of sense of control over my life, I would exert extreme control over my kids- the one aspect of life I can control. Kinda.

In the end, our childhood was like bootcamp, only the rules were unpredictable. And with the remnants of unlovableness (unlovability?) from my mom leaving us, this new set of reasons we were unlovable took shape and scarred all three of us for life. It doesn't matter how much I try to rationalize it away through empathy, the remnants are still there.

But then Tim Keller starts talking in a roundabout way about the effects that idolatry has on a parent who worships his kids and suddenly, my remnants got lighter on my shoulders.

It's not that he didn't love me. It's not that he didn't care. What if he loved me too much? What if all his value and self-worth were wrapped in us?

There came a time a few years ago when I cut him out of my life completely. Meanwhile, my brothers had done the same, but in very different ways. Suddenly, he didn't have us anymore, and I think that made him reevaluate things a little. It made him let go a little. And when I emerged from my isolation, it angered me how it felt like I was the only one at the dinner table who had remnants. It bothered me that nobody else seemed to care that the family dynamic had suddenly changed and everybody acted as though it'd always been this way, i.e. peaceful.

But if it was idolatry and the idolatry shifted to something else, then it is highly likely that over the span of time it took for a flash of insight, the entire dynamic could change. Suddenly, his value wouldn't be in us anymore. Suddenly, we weren't such massive failures regardless of what we did or did not accomplish. Suddenly, we could just be ourselves and that was enough.

Granted, he still goes through episodes where he is fiercely controlling, but all three of us seem to just back off when those situations arise, rather than cater to his need for control, whatever the root cause.

For a girl who has spent her entire life unlovable, Tim Keller's suggestion is highly controversial. It breaks the patterns I've fallen into almost at their source. I say "almost" because I know that even if my dad had been able to cope more solidly, I still would have remnants of being unlovable because my mom left before an age where I was able to reason or understand what was going on at a level beyond just, "She left because I wasn't lovable enough."

And just to neatly tie up within Christianity, this idea of the complete difference between the actual reasons somebody does something and the reasons we perceive from the point of view of the recipient of the actions is interesting because while the vast majority of the Bible (from my perspective anyway) is very vague and easily misinterpreted, Jesus' death isn't. He made it so clear what he was dying for. He made the reasons for most of his actions as depicted in the Bible so explicit. And I don't think there is any other time in the history of me where intentions, motivations and reasons for actions are so clearly understood. And I think that's why even if I'm unlovable, God is safe. God loves me and I know that because there is never a dichotomy in His love for me. There is never anything for me to interpret in His love for me. Sure, there are other things to interpret, like why things happen, why there's suffering, why the Bible is so ambiguous about so much... But there is just no question about His love for me.

And the thing about that concept is no matter how we receive it, no matter how difficult it is for us to grasp that inconceivable unconditional love, deep down I think we know we have all the time in the world to work towards it, to work towards figuring out how to accept it, how to deal with it.

What this Tim Keller sermon showed me is no matter how much somebody loves you, there will always be a barrier, a filter through which you receive that love. And whether the mis-reception or misunderstanding of that love is understandable as in the case of a tyrannical parent's over-love being misinterpreted for hate, or it's incomprehensible as in the case of a loving, forgiving, merciful creator God of the universe, the common denominator is me.

My shrink back in the day once said, "You have to stop expecting people to love you the way you want to be loved and accept the love they are able to give." That's not to say that in situations of abuse, one should feel adored or anything, just that maybe, even in the best of circumstances, we seek so fervently to be unlovable that no method of loving will ever break through those filters and barriers.

And then there's God, who loves us perfectly and how many of us spend our lives trying to prove Him wrong?

So here we are, surrounded by love, doing whatever we can, gathering endless bits of evidence, both consciously and not, to convince ourselves otherwise.

So what if it's not that they don't love us? What if it's that they love us too much? And if you look at the people in your life and scoff at that idea, maybe it's time to figure out the root of that cynicism.

Because if they do love us too much, wouldn't we react differently? And wouldn't we love them more? Wouldn't we try to bring them to the middle ground where loving us is safe and good and not a means of indication nor reflection of of their value?

And in the process, if God's love is perfect and without this brokenness that requires so much interpretation, wouldn't we start to view God differently?

What if?

2010-06-30T20:57:00.002-04:00

What if we have it backwards? What if we need the misery and God's just accommodating that need? What if we are born divided from God, but not because God divides Himself from us but because when we acknowledge there is a God, suddenly, we become so inferior that we need some way to make up the difference? What if God is like, "Alright, fine, be bad, and when you'll feel like that badness divides you from Me and you start to feel guilty about the horrible things you do, I'll give you some rules to make you feel connected again. And when you rebel against those rules, I'll give you some sacrifice procedures to follow. And when you still can't keep up, then I'll do something of which you won't be able to deny the power and significance. And then maybe you might see that I love you no matter what, even if it seems like your goal in life is to be a failure."

And God will judge us on the last day, and we assume that'll be horrible because we're so terrible, even if He loves us no matter what.

What if rather than creating a God because there is an innate need to explain things, we've actually created suffering to make sense of this world? Or rather promoted it? What if we need the suffering? What if we need the pain and the separation from God to make sense of this world?

As an agnostic, it did make more sense. It made sense to believe there was possibly no God and we're just alone, abandoned by nothing to live on this planet for no reason. It makes more sense at a core level when your life has no meaning and no purpose and very little meaningful love and is riddled with abandonment.

We do crave the suffering. We crave mistakes and regret. We call it rebellion, and even if it has a name, we refuse to admit that that's what we're about.

We want to be in control, even if that control is the equivalent to a passenger grabbing the wheel of a car somebody else is driving. It's pointless and requires far more effort than letting the driver get on with it. But we have trust issues, so even if we're swerving dangerously, we've got the wheel and that's all that matters.

So what if God's all, "Ok... Seatbelts. Let's do seatbelts." And then we swerve more. "Alright, airbags." And still, we come dangerously close to death because of our rebellion and need for control. The next step? Automatic driving sensors- an autopilot. We'll be in the driver's seat and we'll have the illusion of driving, but we won't be in control at all. And being that we'll feel like we're in control, we won't give any credit to the actual driver. Maybe we have to crash every now and then to realize what we're doing, what it's costing us.

And what if all those rules and the procedures are meant to amplify that rather than actually "get good with God"? What if they're just the brick wall we're meant to hit before finally realizing the grace and mercy of God?

The other day when my car's wheel almost fell off, I praised God a thousand ways till Tuesday for what He did. I pulled over just in time. And my entire life built up to that moment. All the knowledge I had acquired about cars culminated into me pulling over at that moment. Other women I know wouldn't have stopped. And so yeah, it might just be my knowledge and a bit of luck, but naw. God is good. And I was so grateful. He saved my life. Or at least my finances. And a heap of time and trouble. And probably the same for whomever else became a casualty of my stray wheel.

Fast forward a few days, and the topic of prayer comes up in conversation. And a few people have told me it's a gift I have. Stuff happens when I pray. Incredible stuff. But it terrifies me because I know it's not me. I know that it can disappear any second because it's not mine. And I dread people becoming dependent on my prayer for that reason. It glorifies me and it's not me. It's God. And so in this conversation, I told the person it may be a gift, but I'm in denial because I don't like the responsibility it brings. It's like a dichotomy. God answers my prayers and then people come to me instead of to God. And I point them to God, always, because I know it's not me, but what happens if I lose it? Will they all lose God? Will they all start to wonder about their faith?

God answers prayers. I just think that He answers mine more explicitly because I believe He will. And that's not to say the people who ask me to pray don't believe, but they just believe more through me. It's more explicit when you tell somebody to do something and you let it go and it happens outside of your control.

It's why I praised God for my wheel. It was completely out of my control. It could have been gnarled up suspension parts. It could have been thousands of dollars' worth of repairs. It could have been deadly. It was outside of my control, and God gave me the tools to fix it. He gave me knowledge, a jack and a tire iron. Not to mention the physical capacity to jack up a car and remove a wheel. He gave me the inquisitiveness to have asked questions in the past that led me to assess that my suspension was indeed perfectly safe and fine. Nothing was in my control. In that moment, it was clear that my life was not in my own hands at all.

And that's what I believe my prayer does for other people. It separates them from the consequences. It separates them in such a way that they can't accidentally take credit for the things that happen. They can't brush it off as coincidence or as their own accomplishment.

And I have to admit, every time a prayer is explicitly answered, I love it. I love that this girl who hated even the idea of God is now not only heard but heard in such a way that deeply affects those around her. I look at my neglected prayer list and everything ends up done. It's the most bizarre thing ever. It's the only "to do" list I have that actually gets wiped clean. It really is a beautiful thing.

And it scares me. It really does. And so I don't pray. And I deny that I have a gift. Because I really don't. I'm not more special than anybody else. And one day, without a doubt, I'll feel like God's not listening. Well, actually, I'll feel it again. And again. And I could either start the processes to "get right with God", or I can stop praying for the wrong things and ask God to help me pray for the right things.

I can stop trying to drive the car and instead, use this opportunity to become more aware of my surroundings, all while pointing out the things I love as He drives us by all the people and places He built for me and show my gratitude and appreciation by letting Him take care of it all for me.

Because He loves it all too.

And somehow, I think He wishes we didn't need the suffering to understand that.

But it's merely speculation. God is God and even if I won't presume to know what any of it is all about, He gave me the drive to wonder. :D

On faith and unknown unknowns...

2010-06-16T13:49:00.010-04:00

One thing my meanderings into Christianity has brought me is a new perspective of truth. Pastors seem to like the elephant analogy where a bunch of blindfolded people represent all the religions, and each religion representative touches a part of the elephant and has their own version of the truth of what the elephant looks like based on their tiny fragment of it and combined, they form the whole picture, the one which the self-proclaimed outsider claims he sees when they don't. And they like it because it shows that the outsider thinks they know more about truth than everybody else, and it illustrates the sort of arrogant self-righteousness of that particular truth claim.

But from the other side, none of the blindfolded people will ever think they're the blindfolded ones either. Yes, the atheist or agnostic or Oprah can make a truth claim and we can laugh about how they don't think it's a faith-based truth claim because they think they have no faith in anything but science, but where does that leave us?

The problem is the categories. When you categorize a Christian, you say things like, "All Christians think they know where they go when they die," or, "Christians think they know what is God's will." But I don't know those things. I don't know where I go when I die. As a Christian I think I'm supposed to believe it's somewhere with God? But only when He decides it's over? I don't know.

[Whoever does the supposing in the "Christians are supposed to" statements and whether they are of any worth is beyond my realm of knowledge also.]

I used to be firm in my belief that death was a grocery store of possibilities. Aisle six had the possibility that we reincarnate. Aisle seven, that we reincarnate irrespective of time. I could be Jim Morrison in my next lifetime. Or my last one. Another was that we're one collective soul, split up into fractions, each fraction left to fend for itself and only when we work as a collective will we ever end this suffering. Another still was that we are all God on holiday. God was all, "I want to know what it's like," so he split himself into the billions of people and animals and things and is experiencing every breath of everything simultaneously. And when we die, we will be one again.

There are endless possibilities really. And even if I like my Jesus, I don't presume to know how it ends. Jesus says there's a paradise of some sort, but God also says, "Never presume to understand what I mean or intend because your little pea brain really has no idea." Paraphrased, of course.

My point being that Christianity has taught me a lot about truth in that none of us really has any idea what's going on. Not even the atheists. Not even the agnostics (like me) who think they know they have no idea what's really going on.

I do like that Bush quote, even if it makes me a social outcast- the one about how there are known knowns, known unknowns and unknown unknowns. Because he's right. Known knowns are science. Known unknowns are the breaches of faith and unknown unknowns are... well... who knows? And in my humble opinion, none of us can make a full truth claim until we can actually see all the unknown unknowns.

In the meantime, we have partial truths that end where faith begins.

All of us.

And that's my truth claim. :D

On white-knuckles and trust issues...

2010-06-13T16:31:00.006-04:00

God will be glorified in me regardless of how I live my life. Whether it be through His mercy or through His justice, my life will be a means through which He will show Himself.

And in the meantime, my failings as a Christian don't change that. Nor do they change the world. I am not that important and my failures and faults aren't surprises either. If I am a piece of a puzzle, I can't suddenly change shape. Even if I rip off the sticky outy bits or patch up the dents to either better myself or ruin myself, God will still find all the pieces, clean me up and make me fit.

And there's nothing I can do to change that.

And in the meantime, the things I do, the habits I fall into, the things I refuse to ask for help with, all affect my joy. They're all to my own detriment. They don't affect my relationship with God on His end. Because you know what? Even if I conquer all those things, all the things I perceive to be detrimental to my relationship with God, they are but the tip of the iceberg. And to believe that I will be able to somehow be good enough for God one day is to underestimate God's righteousness and undeservingly amplify my own.

Repent. I think that's what I'm having trouble with. Repenting without action is a meaningless admission of flaws. Repenting with action is behavior modification, which often leads to the replacing of one behavior with another, rather than absolving the need for the behavior to begin with. It also seems like a way to control your salvation. So where's the line between futile, self-important repentance and real repentance? Asking God for help? Asking God to remove whatever it is? Asking God to be more satisfying than the benefits of the behavior? Asking God to change your heart?

But what if that behavior pattern or lifestyle is the only facet of your life in which you have any sort of certainty at all? What if that is where you're comfortable and you don't want it to be removed? What if without it, life just doesn't seem worth it?

Obviously, there are a whole bunch of underlying issues there. But they're there regardless. This is the hand we've been dealt and in some ways, it's a bad one. In some ways, we need something to hold onto for fear that if we let go to merely hold onto God, we'll get dropped.

I'm the girl who, when my dad would carry me on his shoulders as a tiny child, would grip his hair so hard in an effort to keep myself from falling that he'd get a headache and lose handfuls of hair. Every time. God knows I can't let go. Not yet anyway. And I like to assume that He knows I would if I could and I wish I could.

And in the meantime, I guess all that's left is to pray that God might protect me and watch over me while I make my mistakes so that eventually, I might realize He's got a tighter grip on me than any grip my tiny white-knuckled fists could ever muster on their own.

It's true...

2010-06-09T03:25:00.010-04:00

"[God] is not glorified in begrudging submission."
- Matt Chandler

[... in the Culture & Theology talk thingy he gave last week on homosexuality. You can watch it here. It's long. Lonnnng. But it has funny bits... And some moments where you're like, "Yes! Thank you for saying that in a room full of churchies..." And only a couple of moments that really make you cringe. And by "you", I mean "left-wing, ultra liberal me". But I digress.]

It's true though. If you make God seem like a chore, how does that glorify God at all? How does that stir people up to challenge themselves and their faith/spiritual beliefs?

Nobody looks at a dog owner as they squat down to load up a baggy with dog doo and says, "Man, I want a dog."

Well, unless they're being sarcastic.

So if our life starts to revolve around those particulars which cause us to mumble and grumble incessantly, not only do the people around us not see God through us, but over time, we start to detach from God as well. Why follow a God who is nothing but a pain in the ass? Why worship a God who does nothing but impose impossible rules on us? Why adore a God who makes us feel like a constant failure in everything we do and feel?

And I think when we [I] start asking questions of that genre, that's when we've [I've] forgotten what it's all about.

On setting yourself up for failure...

2010-06-01T01:59:00.006-04:00

Lately, I'm having a lot of trouble with the rules and exclusions of Christianity.

We spend our entire lives setting rules for ourselves, rules that not only do we intend to keep, but that are actually easy to keep. Often, they're even rules that would better us in some way, or at the very least, make our current lives a little more tolerable.

Take, for instance, milk. If I eat dairy products, not only do I have symptoms of lactose intolerance, but they also give me migraines. And once a migraine is triggered, I risk months and months of a low level migraine in its wake. So, obviously, I have to set a rule in my life: no dairy. Based on the consequences and the alternatives available to me, one would think that "no dairy" wouldn't be all that difficult a rule to follow.

And then you realize how milk products are in everything- bread, cookies, um... that's all I can think of right now, mainly because I've had a fierce craving for cookies for like a week now. But I digress.

So it's not that easy to avoid milk products, but still, it's doable. I've spent every day since I was ten years old watching out for oats in everything, and that too is difficult, but I got used to it. Along with the wheat intolerance that came later. Then the citrus intolerance. And so on and so on.

It is absolutely possible to do cut stuff out entirely.

Vegans do it...

Today, I was hungry, so I ate cheese. And then I decided that cheese wasn't enough, so I went to the store to buy supper materials, came home and on the way, ruined my appetite with milk chocolate.

Oh, yes.

It was tasty.

And it got me wondering. God is supposedly all about knowing how we operate and working around that. He's also all about the rules that are really to our own benefit. They benefit our soul. Right?

But how can this God know us at all if He supposedly decides who is in or out based on a set of intangible rules?

I can't even go a day without eating some sort of dairy product, and in the grand scheme of things, that's a drop in the bucket.

So then Jesus comes and He says He fulfilled the Law, and yet, establishes a whole bunch of new laws. Or, rather, they're the same ones, but since He fulfilled the old ones, they're new again...ish? And then He dies on the cross so that our sins are washed away and we can be with God... but only if we try hard enough? Only if we go to church? And let's not forget, we have to recruit new members for the army (otherwise they'll be excluded).

Ah, the exclusion part. That's where my agnosticism kicks in. I still can't imagine a God who creates us this way, ultimately sending us straight to hell. I can't imagine that some of the things we do to help each other out in this unbelievably messed up world are things on the list that also lead to damnation.

"There are no levels of sin," they say. "Sin is sin."

So if a rapist rapes, if a victim aborts, if a friend lies to protect the victim, sin is sin. And God abhors sin.

If a priest molests a kid, if a man moves in with his girlfriend, if a woman can't forgive her mother for the horrible pain she has caused, if two people of the same gender intertwine souls, sin is sin and it's all the same.

There's just no way. There's no way that a) God would give us this "sense of justice" that supposedly reflects His own and then have us believe that "sin is sin" and b) God cannot be God if He doesn't know that we're terrible at rules.

In theory, b) is easy to rationalize away. He knows we suck at rules, so that's why He sent Jesus. Right? Except that Jesus left us with rules, so that's kind of a circular argument.

Unless...

If it really is "just Jesus", then it makes sense. Then we aren't expected to follow any rules, rather they're guidelines and Jesus, being full of empathy after having lived in this busted up world, knows that it's almost impossible to stick to them all the time.

I mean, really, the guy only lived till thirty. It's kind of like Marilyn Monroe. You wonder if she had survived a little longer, would she have aged well? Would she have stayed sexy like Sophia Loren? Or would she have ended up a washed up mess with no dignity? And sure, Jesus was God so He had that, but depending on your view of Him, don't you wonder if He could have made it till ninety without sinning? Of course, as a good Christian, you have to answer, "yes," right?

But my point is if Jesus came here and endured this and has empathy for our situation as a result, why is everybody going to hell? It's so bizarre and twisted. Why, if our God is so loving, is the default hell? I don't get it.

God created us this way. God knows who we are. God knows what we'll do before we do it. God loves us. So then clearly it only makes sense that ultimately He's going to ship us to hell by the bus load? And don't forget- if you don't believe that, you're bumped up to the first bus.

Fantastic.

So yeah, lately, I'm having a lot of trouble with the rules and exclusions of Christianity. :D

Old habits die hard...

2010-05-27T20:10:00.004-04:00

Of course, after dissecting Genesis 29:15-35 as guided by Tim Keller's podcast, I had to read chapter 30.

I can't help but chuckle at how in verse 35 of chapter 29, Leah realizes that if she puts her focus on God instead of on her husband, this need to have children and be the perfect wife to please him dies, but a few verses later, she's having basically a battle of fertility with her sister again. And the first thing that came to mind when I read that was the whole "you can't lose your salvation" thing that the Protestants seem to bask in.

You might not lose your salvation once you had it, but how do you really know you ever have it?

If Tim Keller's interpretation of Gen 29 is accurate, I don't think Leah was lying or wrong when she thought she was devoted enough to God to stop seeking fulfillment in bearing children. I think she really meant it. But then times change, circumstances change and so on and she ended up back where she started. And even though the superficial reasoning was different, the root was the same. She was looking to be good enough by a standard outside God.

I like to think that over time, the reasons we turn from God, the things we look to to give us value become more and more profound and harder and harder to fully conquer. And the reason I like to think that is because if I'm right, then no behavior modification in the world will ever work, and not only that, but it will actually prevent us from getting to a point of metaphorical bushwhacking through what is really at the core of our being.

Just as when you stay on the main road all the time without deviating, focusing constantly on what's ahead and whatever bumps you're headed for in an effort to see them coming ahead of time to drive around them, you'll end up missing the scenery entirely, so is focusing on behavior rather than discovering the true nature of your heart.

And so if Leah means it when she puts her fourth baby in the hands of God and quickly finds herself back in the trap of idolatry (in this case a sort of idolatry of comparison), then we should probably expect similar cycles in our own lives. Like they say about getting over habits, you have to replace the habit with something. You can't just quit cold turkey. And if you replace your idolatry with God, then you probably stand a chance, but most of us can only hold onto God as a replacement for so long before we slip back into a habit in which we have more control- or more perceived control anyway.

I guess there's nothing we can do but do our best and learn from our falls, growing continuously, instead of spending our lives so actively trying to avoid everything. *shrugs*

I know, it's a crap ending to this post, but I've been sitting on it for two days now and couldn't think of any way to wrap it up. It just... ends. :D

"The Struggle for Love"... the [very] long version...

2010-05-15T03:03:00.014-04:00

Alright. Continuing on with the sermon mentioned here, first I'll write what catches my ear upon my third listen and then I'll say stuff. So in this first part, even if they're not direct quotes, assume the thoughts and ideas are Tim Keller's, not mine. Unless I've altered something in a bad way, then that's not Tim Keller but my own misinterpretation of his words. ;)

Genesis 29:15-31...

One of the first things pointed out is how even though Jacob has begun a relationship with God, it is not an immediate remedy for his inner emptiness, rather it starts a process of transformation through mistakes and disasters. God is at work in his life and those around him anyway, even if he's not finished making mistakes and so on.

People with an inner emptiness give themselves to a hope- the idea of that "one true love".

So Tim Keller divides it into three sections:
1. What is behind that hope in the one true love?
2. There is a disillusionment that always follows.
3. What gives ultimate fulfillment is God.

First, Jacob arrives on the scene, fresh off of life failures, and Tim Keller asks, "How is he coping?" Well, he copes by making a deal that allows Laban to take advantage of him because he's so in love with Rachel. He copes by suddenly putting all his hopes in her. He works to get her and lives for her for seven years. He believes that if he could just have her her, finally something would be worth it, his life would be worth it and his mistakes would be resolved.

He quotes Ernest Becker's Denial of Death, wherein he describes how in ancient times, romantic love wasn't the goal, whereas now, we make up for a lack of inner spiritual fullness by trying to find that "one". We need to feel that our life matters and without God, we do it through the "romantic solution". We look for it in the love partner. "We want to be rid of our faults. We want to be rid of our feeling of nothingness. [...] We want redemption and nothing less."

When Jacob presents his deal to Laban, Laban sees that Jacob is vulnerable and he doesn't say yes. In verse 19, he answers, "It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me." But he doesn't actually say yes. Jacob hears yes because he wants to hear yes.

And after Jacob confronts Laban about tricking him into marrying Leah, in verse 26, Laban says, "It is not so done in our country, to give the younger before the firstborn," which was exactly what Jacob did to Isaac when he tricked him into thinking he was his older brother, Esau, when Isaac was dying.

"He's doing to me exactly what I did to my father."

"Leah is the unwanted one, the one who everybody sees through, she's the ugly duckling, she's one who has been rejected, she's the one people have looked right through, she's the one who has been ignored for years and years and years." But maybe all that makes her Jacob's real soulmate- Leah fills her heart from the brokenness from all those years of rejection by being the perfect wife and mother. If she is successful in family things, she'll be somebody, have worth and be important. But in the end, this situation is actually worse than if she had never been married because she's looking to Jacob for this fulfillment and he's in the arms of the woman whose shadow she has been in for her entire life. "She's in hell."

She has four sons, the names of each carrying a particular meaning:
Reuben: see- God saw her affliction and now that she's had a son, maybe her husband will see her instead of looking past her.
Simeon: hear- God heard she was hated and after a second son, now maybe he'll listen to her.
Levi: attach- now, finally, will her husband love her and be attached to her.
Judah: Praise- she puts her hope on God and stops having children. The need is no longer there.

Tim Keller goes off on an aside for a bit, and in it, he explains how Christianity is the only religion where broken people reject God's grace constantly and God just sort of keeps after them anyway. God chooses them, whether they like it or not, and works through them. They don't earn His place in their life. And the result is all these broken "heroes" of the Bible (that so many people use to argue against Christianity because they're looking at their character rather than the work God does through their life).

"Morals won't get you into God's story but God has to come into your story."

[He also makes a second point about how even though the characters may be involved in some shady deals and practices, that doesn't imply that God nor the Bible condone that behavior or practice. If God works through broken people, those broken people are bound to do some broken stuff still.]

Back to the story-
Jacob goes to bed with "the one" and wakes up with Leah- "In all of life, through every event, though every aspect of your life there will always will be a ground note running, a ground note of cosmic disappointment."

"Leah represents something.[...] In the morning, it's always Leah. You go to bed with Rachel and in the morning, it'll always, always be Leah."

And then he quotes CS Lewis:

Most people, if they had really learned to look into their own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that cannot be had in this world. There are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they never quite keep their promise. The longings which arise in us when we first fall in love, or first think of some foreign country, or first take up some subject that excites us, are longings which no marriage, no travel, no learning, can really satisfy. I am not now speaking of what would be ordinarily called unsuccessful marriages, or holidays, or learned careers. I am speaking of the best possible ones. There was something we grasped at, in that first moment of longing, which just fades away in the reality. I think everyone knows what I mean. The wife may be a good wife, and the hotels and scenery may have been excellent, and chemistry may be a very interesting job: but something has evaded us.

"In the morning, it's always Leah."

Without realizing that, we look to fill that longing on our heart with new things, different things, better things, instead of understanding that no matter which things we choose, that fulfillment just won't come with them.

There is something in your heart that you want that nothing of this world will satisfy. The "one true love" cannot be any human being. If you put [whatever you put your hope into] in the place of God you will have absolutely nothing.

Leah calls out to God at the same time as she's looking to her husband and family as her savior. The moment she realizes that and takes the deepest passionate desires of her heart away from her husband and puts them on the Lord, she becomes free.

Judah is born and "he is the one through whom the King, the scepter, will come." God chooses the ugly woman, the one nobody wanted, the one who is unloved and unlovely and says, "You're going to be the mother of Jesus."

"When the Lord saw that Leah was not loved, He loved her."

Now my words. I'll break it into sections.

A) Emptiness.
B) He heard yes.
C) Laban did what Jacob did to Isaac.
D) Leah is unwanted, unloved and invisible.
E) The aside.
F) In the morning, it's always Leah.
G) Leah cries out for the wrong things, and God leads her to Himself anyway.
I) And He loves her.

A) Emptiness.
I think that we all have that. There's a longing we feel deep in our soul that can't be fulfilled by earthly things. I blogged about that a little already, in the context of that sort of longing for home, after reading Tim Keller's Prodigal God. But along with that feeling of home is also this deep-rooted desire to feel like we have worth. And that's part of what made me struggle so much with this sermon- I don't feel I have worth. And I know that money, success and family won't give it to me, but I haven't yet learned that relationships won't. Or, not even relationships but the simple validation of men. That is my most obvious emptiness. I still do feel as though if I found a guy who gets me, life would be better. Life would be more worth living. And I would have value. I would be important enough to somebody that my life would mean something.

And how am I coping with that?

Well, now's probably not the best time to ask because I don't feel I'm at my worst at the moment so I might end up saying something ridiculously cocky that I'll regret later. But for now, let's just say I'm actually working on it. I'm working on first, dissociating my value from men, and second, actually finding value in God. I know it's there, but I have yet to fully believe it.

But on a bad day? I cope with it through so-called harmless flirtation and the more harmful occasional escalation to proposition. Thank God my baggage and fears have kept me from doing anything too stupid lately though. ;)

B) He heard yes.
Jacob heard Laban say yes because he wanted to hear yes. Tim Keller jokingly asks the people listening if they've ever dealt with that. My last "relationship" was plagued by question answers. I would ask him something that required an opinion, and he would answer in a question.
me: Are you excited about coming to visit?
him: Why wouldn't I be?
And I did exactly what Jacob did- I heard the yes I wanted to hear. Every time. And I put so much hope into him that even though it was obvious that he wasn't into it, I just clung onto my own obliviousness just so I wouldn't have to face the disappointment that was inevitable.

No more question answers.

C) Laban did what Jacob did to Isaac.
This one bothered me. Jacob was so quick to quit fighting Laban on what he'd done simply because he seems to have felt he deserved the treatment he got. I'm not a revengey kind of girl. I'd rather people grow as a result of becoming aware of the pain they've caused and the betrayals and things than to learn it via a massive slap in the face like this one. But maybe that's just my empathy talking. No matter how much ill somebody may have caused me, I don't really wish the same on them. Justice, yes, but not sheer brutality. But maybe some people only learn the hard way. Maybe some people only realize what stuff feels like if it happens to them.

Or maybe, what bothers me about this section is that Jacob just seems to have no sense of justice at all. What he did to his dad, and then what he lets Laban get away with... Even if I might have made mistakes in my past, that doesn't forgive other people wronging me in the future. You can't create karma. You can't use a karma-type system to take advantage of people who have wronged others in the past. You know what I mean? I understand why Jacob relented. But I don't understand Laban's moral standing.

D) Leah is unwanted, unloved and invisible.
When Tim Keller talked about Leah, she became the first woman in the Bible to whom I really related. I never went through a long-endured phase of gawky awkwardness or anything, but a lifetime of worthlessness has left me with a certain amount of "ugly duckling syndrome" that I can't seem to shake. It's like I know I'm alright-looking and I should appreciate that, but I really can't feel it. And it's not just on the outside either. My closest friends tell me what makes me special, and on a superficial level, I understand, but deep down, I don't feel it at all. Deep down, the core of me is self-loathing, broken and really doesn't see all that much good in my person- inside or outside.

And here's Leah feeling pretty well the same way I do. And even though the people around her made her into nothing, God made her something.

E) The aside.
I liked that aside because I know how often people around here bring up Sodom and Gomorrah as examples of the Bible supposedly condoning terrible things. Just because the Bible's characters find themselves in immoral situations, it doesn't mean the Bible is condoning the behaviors or lifestyles.

F) In the morning, it's always Leah.
No matter what earthly things we put our hope in, we will always be left unfulfilled. And even though on paper, that's really easy to grasp, in reality, we're constantly looking for that fulfillment from so many things in our every day existence. I thought it was interesting that C.S. Lewis used travel in his example. I know quite a few people who put their hope in travel. It's that sense of awe they get that fulfills them temporarily. It must stir up their soul in a way that nothing else can- except worship, I guess. But the travelers I know aren't likely to drop their bags and throw their hands up anytime soon.

On the other hand, somehow, being in awe of God's creation and letting it stir your soul, even if you don't attribute it to God, seems a healthier outlet of idolatry than seeking out validation from men. They're probably equal in some way. I mean, technically, they're both worship of created things. But the awe seems to stir the soul in a more positive and powerful way than the validation does. Or maybe that's just my own lack of fulfillment and failing idols talking.

G) Leah cries out for the wrong things, and God leads her to Himself anyway.
I like this part. It's like God's just waiting for her. And then finally, she comes to Him and they live happily ever after and she doesn't have to try so hard to feel worthwhile. A fairy tale ending, I say.

I'm still working on mine. And frankly, still working on all this stuff too.

Processing. Progressing. Bit by bit.

Thank God for His patience.

I) And He loves her.
And when the Lord saw that she was not loved, He loved her. He loves her. And maybe one day, I'll be able to replace "her" with "me" and actually believe it.

Something to hope for?

He doesn't say, "Yes". He doesn't say, "Agreed."

2010-05-10T23:03:00.002-04:00

I'm listening to Tim Keller's podcast called "The Struggle for Love" (free on itunes) for the second time because I don't get it. It's based on Genesis ch 29: 15-36.

I mean, I understand it, but there's so much to it that I'm still working on it.

I guess I'll blog more when I've figured it out after a few more listens.

Too many layers and all of them are me.

Just because I like it...

2010-05-08T23:26:00.001-04:00

Unless the Lord builds the house,
those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
the watchman stays awake in vain.
It is in vain that you rise up early
and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
for he gives to his beloved sleep.

(Psalm 127:1-2)

On God and suffering...

2010-05-03T16:33:00.004-04:00

My usual answer when people ask, "Why does God allow suffering?" is that God doesn't allow it, but we allow it. We watch each other suffer, inflict suffering on each other and just fall into selfishness that's strong enough to overpower any shred of empathy we might possess.

But what if I'm wrong? Maybe that's only half the answer.

What if God allows suffering as a great act of mercy?

When my brother asked me today why my God allows suffering, I answered, "Because if God didn't allow suffering, we'd all be dead."

We always think of it from the receiving perspective, how we wish we would no longer suffer and how we wish those we feel for would no longer suffer, but what about us on the giving end? Have you really never made anybody suffer?

I doubt that. This post alone might cause suffering in some unsuspecting passer-by. Aside from the deliberate and accidental hurts I have caused in those around me over my lifetime, no doubt I've caused suffering in other ways too. Maybe I'm boring. Maybe I took an opportunity away from somebody who really needed it. Maybe my carbon footprint or my use of water and sanitation resources adversely affected people.

Or maybe, just by being me, I've caused suffering in a great multitude I'm not aware of.

In that sense, God allowing suffering is a great mercy. If suffering is abolished, I will be too. And somehow, I really doubt anybody else would be exempt either.

Your God is too easy...

2010-05-02T00:40:00.004-04:00

At the risk of sounding somewhat like Jared Wilson's book title, which is not my intention, especially since I haven't read the book, five words have been running through my head the past little while:

Your God is too easy.

It started out with somebody pointing out to me that my relationship with God shouldn't be so hard, that maybe I don't have enough faith in a God who loves me just as I am, and it ate at me all week.

My God is too easy, but in different ways than that. I don't tone God down to ease my discomforts. I don't say, "Why would God not want me to do this if He and I both know it would help me in this or that way?" I don't say, "I know that having a carefully controlled fling would help me get over some of the traumas of my past, and I've prayed on it and God is ok with it." No. Just no.

My God is work. And He's not work as in that I have to serve and stop swearing and so on and so on. Nor is He work because I have to be somebody I'm not. He's work because His righteousness points out my crap. And I know God loves me now and He loved me yesterday too, rather than waiting for me to become a better person first and then reciprocating with affection. No, God loves me even when I'm all busted up and continue in my mistakes, but that's just it- now I have mistakes to contend with.

No matter what God you create for yourself, there are things in the Bible that just click with us on a spiritual level even if we don't agree with them. What I mean is, when God says sex is the intertwining of souls, we can scoff and point out our one night stands, but deep down, we know it's true. We know that those people we slept with are somehow apart from other people in our lives. We know it because no matter how much we deny it, we feel it.

So I can say that bit of the Bible was misinterpreted, mistranslated or was meant for people of a different time, but I'll feel the truth. And the difference between an easy God and a God who works on you is the reaction you have to that truth.

What is it?
Is it just Christian guilt?
Or is the negative reaction you have there because you know it all means something more and you're taking that meaning for granted?

If I have my fling, I won't feel Christian guilt. I won't come home and shower till the hot water heater is empty in an effort to feel clean again. There really is no difference in me right now versus me right after sleeping with somebody I don't care about. We're the same person. If I sleep with somebody next Thursday, that person, the one who would sleep with somebody next Thursday, is also me now. Do you know what I mean?

Behaviors don't just happen. They grow out of our own deep-seeded ideologies. We can't feel guilty for those. Instead, that is where we're supposed to lean on God to change our heart and make it so He is enough.

It almost makes me believe that we shouldn't do any behavior modification at all until we believe in it and really understand the root of the behavior. Why? Because there's this idea in society today that if you go to the gym for twenty-one days straight, it will become a habit. It will become something that is just natural to your day. And if you apply that to bad behaviors, then you really could program yourself to not do certain things, and when a new undesirable behavior takes the old behavior's place, you can conquer that too. And the end result is that you live an entire lifetime skipping from one behavior to the next without ever coming to the conclusion that these behaviors are masking a giant idol in your life.

If I say that having a fling is bad and it's a behavior I want to avoid, then I'll do whatever is in my power to avoid it. And I might mess up sometimes and be all, "Oh, well I did the behavior. Bad me." And I'll dive back into programmed abstinence and resort to gardening, watching movies, staying busy or buying things to not think about it or worse yet, remove myself from the presence of men entirely. Just being in a room with one puts me at risk, right? Temptation... Can't risk temptation...

I hate that. I'm the kind of girl who wants to be in the room with temptation and fail nine hundred and ninety-nine times until one day, that thousandth time, I realize what I'm doing and walk away. Walk towards God instead. I'd rather that than walk away the first time and be all proud of myself for being so strong. I'd rather get crushed if that crushing brings me closer to God.

So no, I'm not a behavior modification girl and that is why my God is difficult. I want God to get at the roots of my behaviors. I want God to win. But at the same time, I know my inner dialog is incredibly combative. I know I am going to mess up. I know I'm saying, "God guide me," on one side and, "God, don't watch this part," on the other. I know I'm asking, "God help me overcome this," all while demanding He not touch it because I'm not ready yet.

I'm not abstaining from sex because it's in the rule book. I'm actually not abstaining at all. I'm not having sex, but not because I don't want to and not because I think God's plan is perfect. I'm not having sex because I'm far too busted up for it right now. I can't let anybody close to me because of what happened. But I want to. I want to be able to again. And God is supposed to heal me, not some guy who I overcome mistrust around for a few hours. And God knows I'm fighting, both for Him to win and for Him to lose, but He knows I'm fighting. He knows what He's asking of me is not just about this behavior today or tomorrow or next week or whenever. He knows it's a lifetime of crap that I have to sort through just to overcome this one thing.

My God isn't easy. My God works me hard. And I wouldn't have it any other way because life as I've lived it has never been easy, and if God guides me into some hard patches that help me grow in a positive way instead of the way the hard patches I've brought upon myself have broken me down, then why would I give that up?

I'd rather God kick my ass so I would never consider giving this body, my body, the body entrusted to me, to a stranger who doesn't care one way or the other as even a plausible option, let alone one that I expect to bring some sort of healing.

But I'm not there yet, so the ass-kicking continues.

Bring it on... I guess. :D

Ifs and buts...

2010-04-23T01:46:00.008-04:00

(Scribbles in traffic while listening to more Tim Keller sermons...)

How would you finish this sentence:

God, I will obey if...

I never thought of myself as one of those "God indebtors", but I realized as I sat there in traffic for two hours that totally am.

God, I will refrain from casual sex/premarital sex if you promise me that there is an amazing husband somewhere in the world for me.

And while you're promising me that, do you mind maybe giving me a sign to tide me over for a while?

It's a results thing. If I go out and do things, I get instant results. They might not be good results, definitely aren't the best results, but they're predictable in that there will be results.

I could go out right now and find a guy to sleep with and let him flatter me as he believes he's doing all the work to seduce me, all while letting him believe that he's in control just so the flattery gets painted on a little thicker such that it might last longer... I'll get results. Without a doubt. I'll feel (temporarily) satisfied, (temporarily) confident and (temporarily) slightly more loved than I was before.

But by saying, "If I sleep with a guy to feel good now, while rejecting God's idea of sex, then I don't trust God and don't trust that His idea of sex is what's best for me," I'm essentially saying the same thing as, "God, I will refrain from casual sex/premarital sex if you promise me that there is an amazing husband somewhere in the world for me," except wording it like the former separates me from God and the latter tells it like it really is. What I mean is, in the first statement, while I do admit to a lack of trust in God, I don't admit what it would take for me to achieve it. And that's the real problem here.

It's one thing to acknowledge a shortcoming and it's another entirely to question the real motivation behind it.

I don't think there's a husband in the cards for me. At this point, I don't even see a relationship happening. But between growing up with sex being a nothing thing and it being all around me all the time and me swearing off relationships for the long term, the only thing left is casual sex. Flings. Abstinence is a four letter word. And it really is. I mean, I see God's point, but I also see where I am and my state of affairs is not good. I'm not the marrying type. Nor am I the abstaining type. I'm... the results type.

Matthew ch 7:
21 "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. 22 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?’ 23 And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’"

Tim Keller says being a Christian involves a gradual and inevitable change. And as in the passage above, we can go around helping others with their gradual and inevitable change, helping them to grow towards Christ, helping them to understand God and understand what this Christian thing is all about, but at the end of the day, we're merely vessels for others' change if we don't see that change occurring in our own lives.

Is it? Is Christianity changing your life? Or are you the same person you were a month ago? Or five years ago?

My growth comes and goes. I grow constantly. I strive for it and try really hard never to stay stagnant. But my growth in faith particularly isn't constant. I suppose any growth is a battle, but my faith is more of a battle than most other bits of learning and growing I experience, probably partly because it's the newest and therefore, I'm not as accustomed to incorporating faith-growing into my every day life. But at the same time, whenever I read pastors' tweets about how people in the Bible belt forget Jesus entirely for weeks and months at a time, even if they do go to church every Sunday, and I know that Jesus is a part of my every day, but it's a lazier part. It's kind of a heart part. You know? Instead of putting in the hours of Bible study I used to when I first started, along with hours and hours of sermon listening, I'm more likely to just listen to sermons and work on them for a while. They're like therapy, only with God and with more important purposes. I suppose if you're in a state of coasting, then yeah, you have to dive further into the texts, probably to find more layers of meaning to elevate your spiritual senses, but I'm not coasting. I'm rebuilding. And while I should be working on my textbook Jesus a little more than I am, I find myself working on the grace part of Jesus and the prayer part and most of all, the guidance part. I'm working on my listening.

I think my entire life, I've been guided, either by the Holy Spirit I misunderstand (still) or by my gut, but either way, I never listened and I got myself into terrible situations where the casualty was always me. And so I'm learning to listen. But it's hard to listen for something when you don't know what it's supposed to sound like. And at the same time, with the pull of the familiar, the comfortable, the physical and the easy, it's hard to stick with the unfamiliar, the uncomfortable and the obscure.

Sex is easy. Abstinence is uncomfortable. And it's easy to say that through abstinence would come the most growth, but I don't think that's true either. For me, through suffering comes the most growth, and if I abuse sex, it's bound to create suffering. That's not to validate my actions or anything, but just to point out that it's a difficult situation and not only that, but if I haven't figured it out yet and I mess up, I'm still growing. Growth is inevitable for me. I just have to make sure it's in the right direction in the end. Or, really, I have to make sure that I pray that God makes sure my growth is in the right direction in the end. I have to make sure to pray for God to know me. I think that'd be the worst thing- for me to be face to face with Jesus and Him tell me, "I never knew you." It's like I'd rather be judged and go to hell but have a little Jesus in my heart to get me through it than for me to get up there and be told I don't know Him at all. You know?

So I'm working on listening. And hopefully, out of that listening will come the trust with no strings attached. But I'm skeptical- just about the husband thing. I think that's my downfall, really. I just don't see how it'll work out for me, but that's the thing- I'm ok with not knowing how anything else in my life will work out, and I trust God for most of everything else (gotta leave room for future realizations), but for some reason, the husband thing is where I have a hard time letting go of the control.

I guess with healing, that might come. As the fear of ending up with another sociopath diminishes, maybe I won't feel such a strong pull to control that part of my path.

Maybe.

On trust and arrogance...

2010-04-20T01:24:00.000-04:00

Something Tim Keller said in a sermon (from a while ago) bothered me lately. Those of us who are naively blown away by the horrible nature of those around us are arrogant in that not only do we underestimate the horrible nature of humans, but we somehow also manage to count ourselves so exempt from it that that kind of horribleness is actually surprising.

If it is so hard for us to understand the completeness of God's love for us, why is it so easy to love certain people so naively? And if it's so hard for us to trust God, the same God who created us and knows us better than we know ourselves, why are we so quick to trust the broken people in our lives who are the least deserving of trust?

But then aren't we supposed to? Doesn't everybody deserve to be loved? Or do we not deserve anything at all? If human nature is really that horrible, how are we supposed to love each other? If we don't have an ounce of naivety or a glimmer of faith in humanity, where do we find ourselves within a community? Or within any relationship?

To fully understand the depravity of the human condition, wouldn't we become the world's greatest cynics?

So again, in my mind, there's a dichotomy that comes with the extremes. People are a certain way and as a result of that, the preachers of that particular society preach the opposite way, partly assuming nobody will ever get to the other side. We're supposed to try and end up somewhere in the middle, where we're ideally supposed to land, I guess. But I'm all or nothing girl and if you point me in a direction, I'll tell you what is at the end of that path.

It's like when I hear people from the south pleading for more sexual freedom. They believe that acquiring certain freedoms they don't have yet will solve all the ills of their society. But here in Quebec, we are the exact result of those freedoms acquired and we've got a whole new set of issues to face. Nobody expects to "get there from here" when they start their fight. Nobody who sees the greener grass on the other side of the fence expects to somehow end up living there.

But isn't that human nature- that desire for things to be better even though we have no idea what that actually means?

That's how I fit in community, whenever I actually do. I see the potential. I see the bags and boundaries people have and I hope that one day, they'll break through them and release their better, unhindered self. But then, they kind of prove Tim Keller's theory and make me feel utterly naive followed by the inevitable arrogance that comes as a result of the surprise that a human could turn away from growth and turn towards horrible, hurtful, deceitful things instead.

But if I think I'm a good person, or at least I think my intentions are generally good, then how is it wrong to hold other people to a standard of goodness that is me? Obviously, I'm not perfect and I have terrible parts of my person too, but if I know how hard I try to do things right, to be honest and to live with empathy, then why is it arrogant to assume I'm not the only one who achieves this particular standard, however high or low that is? That doesn't mean I think I'm all good- I'm still broken and selfish, but I don't think I could ever do to others what some have done to me, especially the ones whose intentions were terrible. You know what I mean?

I think at our most cynical points in life, we do take reassurance in a couple or a few of the people around us, as if just knowing they exist makes the world, and humanity in particular, less horrible. If we really did fully grasp the reality that is human brokenness, I'm not sure we'd get out of bed in the morning. I don't think we'd survive without the glimmer of hope we get from acts of kindness and unconditional love.

Sure, God is supposed to be enough, but if He is enough and this world is really that horrible, why would we stay here? Why would we endure this?

We are created in God's image so why would it be so terrible to look for godly traits in each other? Or worse, to expect them?

As bad as it sounds, I guess I'm lucky that my brokenness doesn't usually affect other people as much as it could. Most of my brokenness is self-destructive rather than projected. And while for me, there's no real difference there- brokenness is brokenness- I'm still glad that the emotional casualties of my life have been at the very least decreasing in number the more I grow.

That's all we can do, right? Grow? Grow in trust for God. Grow in love for God. Grow in love for each other?

And maybe I misunderstood Tim Keller's point. Maybe he didn't mean the worst of the worst of human beings catching the naive among us off guard, but the more simple every day broken people. Maybe he doesn't expect us to not be surprised when a best friend assaults us or a loved one turns out to be a complete sociopathic fraud. Maybe he just means the arguments and the misunderstandings and the tiny, almost insignificant betrayals.

Because I can't imagine being the kind of person who gets suddenly physically mauled by somebody close or gets a middle of the night phone call that is an absolute rape of the soul and isn't surprised. That kind of person, to me, is just broken beyond repair.

To understand the brokenness is one thing, but to expect the absolute worst all the time is something entirely different. And I just don't think that's the world perspective with which God wants us to live. So I must have misunderstood TK.

On Interpretation...

2010-04-14T02:31:00.010-04:00

A little light reading before going to sleep...

Romans 14:
1 As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. 2 One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. 3 Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. 4 Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.

I thought I understood this passage. It seems clear enough, right? He starts out by telling the recipients of the letter to welcome the weak. And then he explains how it goes both ways, how each side shouldn't judge the other, and assuming that the recipients are not the weak ones, verse four says, "Who are you...?" so I read that as telling the strong not to judge the weak because only God judges. Only God decides who is righteous and who isn't, if any of us are at all.

And then Romans 14 goes on to say:

5 One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. 6 The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God. 7 For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. 8 For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's. 9 For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be Lord both of the dead and of the living.

So I took that as saying whatever we do, whether we do stuff or don't do stuff, whatever our reasons, as long as our heart is for God and as long as we live to honor God, then our lives are for God. Because Christ died for how our actions fail. Christ died because we never get the actions right. Christ died so having a heart for the Lord would be enough. He died so it is enough.

Like I said, I thought I understood the passage. It seemed pretty clear. But since I was too lazy to hold up my 4,000 page ESV study bible and my new toy is lighter, I decided to read it online, where the study part is more accessible in the right side bar... so I couldn't help but read it, even though I thought I understood the passage.

This explanation caught my eye:

"Rom. 14:4 This verse is likely directed to the weak. It is not their place as fellow servants to pass judgment on the strong. The strong stand or fall before God, and they will stand righteous before God on the last day because God will give them grace to keep them from falling away."

After reading it the way I did, the way I explained above, and then reading that... it just burned me up.

What happened to Matthew 5:5's “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth"? Or Colossians 3:12:

12 Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, 13 bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

In that Romans passage above, I thought the strong and weak were just being contrasted. Some need more rules than others to feel like they know God. Some don't. But the idea is that both are trying to be good with God in their own way.

"Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind."

That's what bothers me about pastors relying on commentaries and analysis outside of their own grasp of the Bible: it seems possible that all this Bible study could be similar to a chain of laboratory research that has detrimental flaws in some of the steps. That's not to say commentaries aren't important. No, from what I know, they save a lot of time and provide important insight to better informed Christians like the sermons do for lesser informed Christians like me. They are important.

But the Bible is the Living Word. It's the Word of God. If you're a Christian, you supposedly believe that, because if you don't, then you don't believe what John said, and if you don't believe what John said, then how do you believe the rest of the Bible is true and if you don't believe the rest of the Bible is true, how do you believe ANY of the Bible is true?

And John said in chapter 1:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

Then again, maybe I've misread and misunderstood that too.

Probably.

But God loves us. God loves us individually and wholly. God wants a relationship with us. God wants us to worship Him and what that means is God wants us to live in the wholeness and spiritual completeness that is only in Him which, when we really begin to understand what that means, we have no choice but to talk about His awesomeness to those around us. Right? In a nutshell?

And so, the Word is God. And here is the Word communicating to us. Like, today, a random Tuesday (my favorite of the random days), God suggested I read before bed. Read what? Romans 14. So I did. I read it with an open heart and open mind, ready for God to say something to my soul. And He did. He provided me with a passage that says, "Live for Me. That's all I want. Don't worry about the p's and q's about it. Just Me. I'm the only thing that matters." And if you read this blog, or even my other blog sometimes, you'll know that I feel like a crap Christian. I don't fit in. And God pulled me aside before I went to sleep tonight, on a night when I read an email from a church telling its members (and other subscribers) to pray for a girl because since she can't stand church, she obviously hasn't found Jesus and we (the subscribers) should be worried about that. So God gave me Romans 14. And every day, the words on those pages are the same. They don't change. But every day, every time God shows them to us, they're different. They're alive.

If God is God, then He can get His word to say anything He wants it to.

And the stuff in the side bar?

It just kind of kills it. Yes, we should know the historical context. We should know what they were talking about and use that to help us interpret the text. Yes.

But we should also just read it sometimes. Just let it affect us. Just let God make the Living Word come alive for us and for us alone. Let God talk through the Word.

Reading the Bible isn't like a textbook for exactly that reason- it's a book you have to read with your heart, not just with your mind.

And yes, it's a risky endeavor because what if you read something a certain way and it's not a godly interpretation? Well, then like they say, it's only from God if it fits His message. You do have to know the message to determine the difference. So you have to do both.

But, when I read a "scholar's" interpretation that just rubs me as being blatantly self-righteous, I'm going to side with my heart.

*shrugs*

On behavior modification, seeking guidance and finding love...

2010-04-12T00:35:00.014-04:00

I never understood the purpose of altering swear words to make them more "G-rated". What is the bad part of the bad word? Is it the combination of letters itself or is it the sentiment behind it? Or both?

I think it's the sentiment. A combination of letters is hardly a threat to anybody's social well-being. The intention behind them though, behind any words for that matter, can be extremely violating.

Saying things like "fudge" or whatever else people say (I'm a swearer, not a fudger), to me is the equivalent of changing your behavior to avoid sin without actually making it an endeavor to become closer to God.

Anybody can modify their behavior. Sure, some behaviors are harder to correct, but that's why we side-step those conveniently and focus on the easier stuff we can change moderately successfully.

When I dated the Christian guy who raped my soul (these days, that's what we're calling what he did), his focus was on my swearing. Admittedly, I swear like a sailor. No, no, not like a sailor. More like a sailor who has stubbed his toe, hopped around for a while and knocked over the 7,000 piece 3-D boat puzzle he had been working on for the past two years. I swear like that guy. And I don't see a problem with it. Obviously, I tone it down when I'm around kids and whatnot, even though I don't see the point in doing that either since they'll grow up to swear like me eventually anyway. I also avoid swearing in this blog because I think it might detract from the message I'm trying to convey.

There is a time and a place for everything.

But when I refrain from swearing, I do it out of courtesy, not because I think it's a sin and God frowns upon four letter words.

God sees my heart. And that's what I want to change. I want my heart to be good. And the only way that can happen is if I lean into God, if I ask God to make my heart good.

The stereotypical behavior modification-oriented Christians do have one thing right: we're all sinners. We're broken sinners who idolize things, have sex with people we aren't married to, and reject God every chance we get. Great. But where they lose me is when they decide we can fix all this on our own. If that's not pride, I don't know what pride is.

What is Christian about swear jars and self-deprivation? I don't know, maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think Jesus deprived himself of anything just to be good with God. Somehow, I think He was good with God and everything else just sort of fell into place.

But hey, I wasn't there. Maybe after Jesus turned the water to wine, he went home and dropped a few silver coins into his wine jar.

Right?

It could happen?

Or, since He used His God powers to turn the water to wine, God was in on it all along.

See, if God is in every action, every reaction, everything, then you're not living alone anymore. You're not deciding alone anymore. You have a guide, which I guess they call the Holy Spirit, but I still call Him God because I don't know enough about the Holy Spirit. Whichever of the Trinity He is (or it is?), if He's there and you don't reject Him, then you'll know which choice is the more godly of the ones you face.

This week, I faced a lot of ungodly options. A lot. More than usual. And being that I'm still broken, and I think I'm on the fence, teetering toward the side where I just give up, where I let myself be broken and decide there is nobody in the world for me because I have been through too much, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Basically, I told God, "I need to heal, and doing this will heal me." I convinced myself that the ungodly behaviors would somehow repair the damage created by other ungodly behaviors.

And they would. They would really repair that particular damage. I am absolutely certain. The behaviors would allow me to overcome certain fears and trust issues and open a door to hope for the future. But, in their wake, the behaviors would leave other damage. And then what? What would repair the new damage?

I decided I was a better healer than God. I decided I knew what was best for me more than God. I decided. I decided alone, without God.

But the funny thing I've learned over this past while since starting to figure out my relationship with God is that when you decide things alone, without God, He's actually still there. And then when you fall, He's actually more there than He was before because you're far more open to listening.

"God, I'm going this way. Bye," and you start walking a path on your own and when you get to a dark dead end and you have nowhere else to go, there He is, with some sort of flashlight.

But sometimes, we have to learn the hard way. Well, often. Sometimes, we can be gently guided and other times, we have to be smacked down so we finally ask for help. And when you factor behavior modification into the equation, most of the time, it'll lead to the latter- the smack down. Because we can't do it on our own. We can't overcome our worst sins on our own merit. If we could, we'd have done it a long time ago.

And wouldn't we be perfect by now?

So yeah, we shouldn't deliberately sin or anything. It's not a free pass. But our focus shouldn't be on the behaviors themselves but on why we do them. Trying to eliminate the behaviors without assessing our need for them and reasons for continuing in them just creates a smoke screen blocking the real issues.

And on the other side of the issue, while talking about the things that are hard to overcome with others who have faced them may help us to sort them out, I've found that when you get into really hard issues, Christians tend to shut down. Maybe that's a generalization. Maybe the limited number of Christians I've been exposed to lack the compassion and courage to be true friends. After all, would you risk your salvation to talk somebody off a ledge they walked onto on their own?

I think that might be what Tim Keller means when he says the opposite of love isn't hate but fear.

How defective is a person who can't even listen without being afraid of taking it badly and instead of providing guidance, fears falling off the tracks themselves, just through inadvertent suggestion?

You don't get that up here. It's funny how in the land of atheism and supposed Godlessness, the support systems are far more boundary-less. If I was really in trouble, I could easily ask anybody I've ever met for help and right now, as I write this, I honestly think any one of them would help, even if I haven't talked to them in years (as was the case this week). I think none of the people in my past about whom I could say that are Christian. And sure, that's a judgment, but it's also a major part of why Christianity is so dead here. It's why people say, "I'd rather be a good person just because I want to do right by people and not because some god created rules to make me nice."

The difference is tangible and heartbreaking.

Over the past year or so, as I've been trying to follow advice of the few Christians I know, I have been trying to talk to Christians about my faith more, and really, Christian love is much different than atheist love. Christian love is hesitant, temporary and temporal. Christian love is "serving". It's almost as if you can feel that they're using you and your afflictions to serve. It's among the most uncaring gestures I think I've ever faced, simply because of its manipulative and indifferent nature. False caring. It's as though my needs become a casualty in their quest for God, as backward as that sounds.

Atheist love, on the other hand, as I've experienced it, stems from a place of empathy. It's a place where the atheist has realized we're in this together and crushing each other only makes it worse. It's where their own sorrows and uncertainties and traumas turn to positives in the absence of a redemptive God. It's where the idea of the crutch comes in. Without the God crutch, you have to pick yourself up, learn to forgive and forget, learn to build your support system, learn to love and learn to cope on your own. And in doing so, you quickly become aware of how difficult it is, and how those around you who have lived through far worse traumas than you have are real survivors. And you admire them for it. And you love them through it.

That's the love I'm used to. It's not perfect. No. It's riddled with defense mechanisms and brokenness too, but it tries so hard to be genuine and enduring. All these years in my not fitting in with anybody, I've taken for granted how much support I've had. And I think it's one of the reasons that church is so hard for me. The Christians are all, "You're meant to be in community," but I am in community. I have the most authentic community of anybody I know. It's part of the reason I have a hard time sometimes- my community always tells it like it is. They always rebuke me when I need rebuke but back off when they see I've stopped listening until I fall down again and then they're right there beside me again, walking with me in my mistakes. As nice as that sounds, it's actually really difficult. It's difficult to be called out all the time and to face reality constantly also. It's most difficult when you need rebuking of so many different things all at the same time. It's difficult because of the detrimental pull pride has on our malleability.

I'm not used to the kind of love that is selective depending on the fragility of the other party. Like, if my problem is with sex and I take men's advice far more readily than women's (I'm wired that way on account of growing up with a single dad), I should be able to talk about it with a guy. There should be at least one guy in the world who is strong enough to talk about sex with a woman without being tempted or end up freaking out at the risk of temptation. I mean, really, grow up. But I do have that here. I have that in the atheist guys I know. I really can talk to them about anything and it doesn't turn into a scandal or taboo breach. It's just helpful conversation. Inspiring conversation. And I get the rebuke and guidance I need, and it's not from the Christian community.

That's the thing- you can actually get Christian guidance from non-Christians. You know why? Because Christianity isn't a secret. It's not some exclusive club that you only know the details of once you're inside. Non-Christians can actually come up with some very, very insightful questions because for them, the Jesus thing is black and white, which is part of the reason they haven't grasped it yet. And when you're faced with temptation, Christianity can become grey. But it's not grey. It really is black and white.

Do you believe in Jesus? Do you believe the words in the Bible are true? Do you believe that Jesus is God? Do you believe that the reason God asks certain things of you is because they are for your benefit? What do you stand to gain through all this deprivation? Do you trust God?

What, as a Christian, is your stance on this particular topic? How do you feel your actions reflect that? If they don't reflect that, why are you pursuing them anyway? Which is more important to you: what God wants for you or what you want for you?

And when an atheist/agnostic asks you tough questions about your faith, sometimes (not all the time) the reason isn't altruism or an act of guidance pointing you towards God, but an effort to show you that by being a Christian, you bring unnecessary suffering into your life. You deprive yourself of things for a God they don't understand. And a lot of the time, all they know of Christianity is hypocrisy. And here they are, asking you the hard questions, getting you to think about where you stand with the Almighty God.

Where do you stand?

Because if you don't ask yourself that, and you start giving answers to an atheist that reflect your pride, you just turned that atheist off God even more. It's as if you're in a boat with the atheist and you just shot the bottom out because you don't have the courage to face your shortcomings.

And when you're humble, and you answer each of those questions with humility while falling to your proverbial knees pleading for God's mercy which has been gifted to you beyond your comprehension, that's where the community finds you.

I know I'm overwhelming sometimes. I'm a passionate person and I'll dive head first into trouble out of nowhere. And I'll get advice to get me out of it and within hours, find myself in an even worse situation. I know. I know I walk out onto a lot of ledges. I fall off a lot of wagons. I do. But so do you. And it's ok. It's ok but at the same time, don't watch me do it and avoid the conversation because it's tedious. And don't hear my words and hide your own in pride. Don't pretend to love me. Don't pretend that God doesn't see this "serving" business is a load of shit.

Don't use me to serve God. Love me. Loving me serves God. But really love me. Or at least spend the rest of your life trying to figure out what that means.

I don't expect people to stop me from my own stupidity. I really don't. If I choose to deviate into terrible territory, that's my problem. But the past little while, I had been so clear with so many people, Christians, agnostics and atheists, and the ones who tried to set me straight are the ones who are either the least certain of their faith or the most certain they have none at all. And really, when you teach me about what it means to be Christian and paint yourself as an elder to me in the absence of Christian structure in my life, you paint yourself as an example, and this week, that example was not caring, loving or walking with me at all.

Do you really think God sees serving as saving yourself?

This week, I got the best compliment a girl can ever get from my friend Erin (I hope she doesn't mind that I kept it :D) after a discussion about God things:
"I don't know why you think you aren't a good Christian. You are the most helpful person I know when it comes to this sort of thing."

It made my day. Or week really. And I would give anything to be able to help her when she needs help and to somehow know when to be around, you know? She lives far away and to just accidentally be online when she's online the minute she needs help... Well, that's something I wish for. I wish that if she needs somebody and reaches out, somebody would be there to reach back. I wish that for everybody around me, really, and I've wished that since long before I was Christian. That's the love I'm used to. It's not serving. I'm not giving something anybody is lacking. I'm giving what I'm lacking. I'm giving what I need because we all need it. And I don't think that's the kind of community I've found in church. It's the kind of community that turns people away from church.

And honestly, from my perspective, it's a more Christian kind of love. It's the way Christian love should be.

No strings attached.

No fear.

Just love.

Just Jesus.

Just wondering.

2010-04-07T17:17:00.001-04:00

Why didn't God just create us righteous human beings?

On Late Night Praythings...

2010-04-01T01:46:00.008-04:00

Do you ever really want to help somebody but find yourself unable to for whatever reason? And then somebody else needs help and you know they need help and you know you can help, but you don't offer because you don't think you'll actually help? You end up sitting silently carrying burdens without actually lifting the load off anybody. And you wonder why you're here, why you know about these things when you don't have the skills or experience or geographical location to be of any use. And you ask the universe questions and it doesn't reply. And you wonder if these moments of helpless isolation are exactly the moments God intends for you to use in prayer. And you question your faith because it wasn't the first thought that came to you before. And then you might thank God for loving you anyway, even if you suck at everything and ask if He could maybe fill in the gaps where you come up short. And He does. And the next time you find yourself in helpless isolation again, you go through the exact same process. Every time. And never learn.

A pastor I adore but whose sermons weren't online till recently (yey) says life in faith is a series of cycles of feelings of utter abandonment followed by the realization you were never abandoned, and through these repeated cycles, the faith slowly grows, but it's as though sometimes we need the absence of God to feel God's presence. Which, some claim, is why we suffer. Those moments when we're crushed and have nothing left to give are the moments we look up and start asking questions. Or screaming questions. Or obscenities. The point is, in those moments, we dialog in some way, and the tiny shred of hope we have in those moments is what God grows from. A fading spark deep in our soul that is fanned just enough for us to keep going until we finally look up and expect dialog in return and the spark becomes a flame, bright and flashy but easily extinguished into soft embers once again waiting for just the right moment, just the right breath of oxygen to reignite them.

That same cycle is counterproductive in a Christian culture where failure and doubt is frowned upon. Reading the articles about the pope and the sex scandals and people keep saying, "Why would I confess to a priest when I'm not sure he's less of a sinner than I am?" I can't imagine somebody going through life thinking they sin less than the next guy. It's not for not sinning, but for living in complete denial- which, as we hear and read in the media, is exactly the case in the Catholic church. And it's that denial that makes people so angry. Don't hide your mistakes; don't sweep things that are this horrible under the rug. Own your evil.

I love this quote:
Most of our faults are more pardonable than the means we use to conceal them.
- François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld

I would hate to have to write that name out all the time. Especially with a plume. :D

But it's true. How are people supposed to grow in faith and in community when they're not allowed to err or worse, when they're not allowed to hurt because of the sins of others?

You can't.

I've found that out the hard way more than a few times. When I was lying on my bathroom floor this past weekend in complete pain and no fewer than six people (conservative estimate) later scolded me for not getting help, it makes it obvious how in a community, when one is hurt, the whole community hurts.

Imagine if they were there as I lay there and just shut the door?

It goes both ways though. I shut the door and don't let people help me. But on the other hand, prayer has helped me there too. Prayers for me are of infinite help with minimal effort. It's not the same level of effort as getting into a car and driving an hour out of the city to come make sure I'm ok. It's a simple sentence or two from the heart. And in the end, as I work out my issues with self-worth, prayer becomes a stepping stone. It's really an amazing thing that God gave us something so simple and yet, so powerful.

I can be here at 1:40AM and pray for my mommy friends to be sleeping deeply and to be rested in the morning. I can pray that they get a break long enough to rejuvenate their soul for a bit. I can pray that the small things that go wrong go a little more unnoticed than usual. I can pray for them to wake with energy. And patience. And a smile in their heart for no apparent reason.

When I do that, I sleep better because I know the world and the people I love are watched over by a great God who loves them more than I do.

And if they wake up tomorrow and have the worst day they've had in a long time, they might feel abandoned, but I know God's just waiting for them to look up again.

It's really an amazing thing that God gave us something so simple and yet, so powerful. And kind of sad that it always seems to end up last on our list of solutions.

Palm Sunday...

2010-03-29T01:38:00.006-04:00

I think Easter is the time of year I feel most left out as a Christian. It's the holiday, in my opinion, that is the most religious- religious in this sense being the ritualistic part that isn't necessarily written in the Bible.

So everybody's all, "Hey! It's Palm Sunday!" and I smile and nod, which doesn't really matter anyway since the "everybody" is on the internet and can't see me anyway.

What's Palm Sunday?

I assume it's the beginning of the week ending in Good Friday. What it has to do with palm trees or hands is beyond me. All the news says about Palm Sunday is it's some sort of day the Christians are celebrating in spite of scandals and questions about the pope. It even made the cover of the Gazette today, which is really unusual. Not unusual is how the first words of the article are negative or how in spite of the article's seemingly positive title, its content actually ends up having nothing positive to say about Christianity.

So that's what Palm Sunday means here?

What I find strange about all this is that in my experience, being a Christian requires a lot of googling. How come? Why isn't the Bible enough?

Granted, I still haven't finished reading it, but still, I've read the Gospels and don't remember reading about Palm Sunday.

Today, I was wondering about Calvinism and God's role in our faith and in our own life. And as everything comes in waves, a pastor I follow tweeted this article three times, so I figured I may as well look at it. If I understand right, Calvinism leans towards God having complete control over everything, no matter what we do and how we choose to orient our lives. And if that's true, I find it odd that there'd be a resurgence of Calvinism in the south. Or maybe not odd, but too easy. Does God really choose people geographically? And if so, why the Bible belt? Why not New York city, or somewhere with a little more influence rather than a place which, let's face it, is the butt of so many IQ-related jokes. If God was about making Himself known why would He pick the Bible belt? Unless it's like how the women were the first witnesses to Jesus' resurrection when they had no credibility as witnesses at the time?

But if Calvinism is true, why is there so much googling required to be a Christian? Why is it that if you don't grow up in church, if you don't accidentally find yourself born into that community, you have to learn the intricacies and rituals of it anyway?

What would Christianity look like if it was just Biblical and completely independent of prior Christian intellect, ritual and historical direction? Is it possible?

And can a Christian exist without the Bible? Can God not choose somebody who has never had access to a Bible at all? Does a person automatically require the possession of a Bible to be saved?

I guess the reply for that would be that without the Bible, they wouldn't know Jesus exists and if they don't know Jesus exists then they can't believe He is the way and the truth and the life and no one comes to the Father except through Him (John 14:6).

But what if it really does come down to your heart being opened by God? What if God knows that you'd believe if you had exposure?

I honestly don't see any of my entourage coming to Christ because of anything I say. I don't think there is anything I can possibly say or do that would get them to understand God and Jesus in a way that drastically affects them. The only way I would ever get through is if God cracked open a window for me. That's the only way. And it's the only way God got me here too- a window opened in my hard, angry heart.

I do need to believe that my God controls everything. I need to believe that He is capable of anything at anytime with anybody. But at the same time, I tend to side with Tim Keller's idea that God is 100% in control and we are 100% free to live our lives as we choose and that the 200% concept is far, far beyond our realm of comprehension.

So what does that mean for Palm Sunday and all the rest of the Easter rituals I have no idea about (still)?

It probably means I don't have to google it all to be saved, but choosing a life without wisdom is kind of counterproductive.

Fear of Man...

2010-03-24T02:24:00.005-04:00

Tonight was for working on the "fear of man". After a highly volatile day ending in my probably having hung up on my dad, I was riled up and upset, so I threw on the sermon JR Vassar gave at the Village Church coincidentally called, "Freedom From the Fear of Man." And I don't have issues with how people feel about me, nor do I embarrass easily, so I never really thought I had a "fear of man" issue. Until today.

A large part of the reason I am the way I am is because of the path I've taken to get to this point. From the very beginning, I haven't had much say in my own life, and I know that sounds victimy, but it's really true. My dad was a single dad with three kids, me being the youngest, and when my mom left, I was only two and my brothers weren't much older than I was. I'm not sure he had a handle on things and so the way he feigned some sort of control was though controlling us in a variety of ways. And as a result, I haven't really felt in control of my person for most of my life. Today, all that kind of came to a head.

Today, I learned that if I start accepting contractual work, I will lose my unemployment benefits. That can't happen. Therefore, I can't take contractual work. No matter what. The only way I can be a contractor is if it ends up paying more than my EI and is stable, which it won't be and therefore, I won't jeopardize the only thing that is paying my bills right now. But since I can remember, I've felt on my own, even when I was living under my dad's roof. We had a roof and food, but nothing else. And I know that that should be enough, but it isn't. We grew up unprotected, unloved and not particularly cared for. His way of loving us was being career-focused, which caused him to be away so much that when he was home, he had a hard time getting us to conform to his dynamic since we had established our own from being alone so much. It was clashy, and in the end, he reigned with terror and verbal abuse, and we never said a word.

When I wanted to pursue snowboarding professionally, I was put down relentlessly. "You're not strong enough. You'll never be an athlete. Get this crap out of your system. It's such a waste of time." Of course, there was no support otherwise either. He came snowboarding with me once, on a day when the halfpipe wasn't cut and was shaped more like a v than a deep u. "You're not very good. I don't know why you think you can make it. Don't waste your time. You're not good enough."

Luckily for him, I smashed my head in and nearly died, which led to me giving up snowboarding, one of the hardest and most regrettable decisions I've ever made.

Not-so-luckily for me, my accident was more fodder for his belittling encouragement. I know that's an oxymoron, but he still says things like, "You've never failed at anything. Well, except going to the Olympics." Like a spear through my heart.

But I never say anything.

Today, when he was putting me down for worrying about losing my EI, I lost it. I'm all I have. I'm all I have. I don't have a job, and if I lose my EI, I'm done. I don't have a safety net. I don't have a support system. I'm all I have. And here he is, telling me what I should and should not worry about and how the reason I'm in this mess in the first place is because I'm lazy and don't care to get a job. I'm in this situation because I don't listen to his "advice".

"Yes, dad. You're the hero and I'm the loser. I know. You make it clear to me every day."

And I hung up, and that sermon made me realize that my fear of man isn't about acceptance or fear of disappointment- I've been a misfit disappointment my whole life- but it's about not being those things. It's about not lifting other people up by throwing myself under them.

After I hung up, I felt terrible. I always feel terrible when I assert myself. I've been around some very, very cruel people in my day, and I just can't be cruel back. People tell me that assertion is not about being cruel but about protecting yourself, but anybody who has felt that awkward post-assertion humiliation from somebody else "protecting" themselves knows that that's not true. There is an element of hurt involved. Nobody likes to be rebuked, even if it's not personal. And I guess, over the years, I've decided not to sweat the small stuff and rebuke when it's important so I'm not painted as the sort of bitchy type who points out everything. There's my fear of man. I'd rather let people hurt me a thousand times than be the bitch about small things. But you know, I'm surrounded in amazingly hurtful people and I always have been. It's at a point where if I stood up for everything that hurt me, I'd never sit. I never could figure out what it was about me that made me such a target. The punching bag.

If a fearful person walks into a dog park, they get swarmed. Dogs jump on them, dominate them, put muddy footprints on their white velour jumpsuit (true story). And with dogs, I'm not that person. If a dog has the balls to jump on me, they quickly learn they will never get away with that again. But I know that dogs take rebuke humbly. If you rebuke a dog, they'll love you more for it. If you rebuke a human, they'll cut you out, or worse, you'll see them get crushed right in front of you. I hate that.

That's my fear of man.

I'll do anything not to hurt a person. And in the process, they'll crush my spirit a hundred ways and I won't say a word. I'll even stay down just so they can feel like they accomplished something.

A friend asked me last week how I find the abusive guys I end up with and how I don't see it coming and I answered, "I don't find them, I create them." And he laughed and said there's nothing in the world that could make him hit a woman. But I do make them hit me. And before you get all, "It's not your fault," or whatever, I know that. But the way I am in a couple is I raise my man up. I give him confidence over time. I make him believe he is far better a man than he actually is. It's a kind of brainwashing, but in a good way. Except for me. Over time, I become a nobody. I pick men who are indifferent to me in the beginning, and gradually, I make them believe they are better men than they actually are, and eventually, they end up believing they are better than me. And that's when my concerns become irritating and tedious. And my requests for respect are met with indifference. If you take a man who is broken, and you make him into a man who believes he isn't, he will feel a sense of power he never had before, and the fact that he was indifferent to begin with makes you, the one he doesn't respect, an easy target. That was the dynamic of my relationships. None had ever hit a girl before me. I made them believe they were bigger than they actually were, except that while they were crushing me, they were too broken and too hard-hearted to realize that if they lost me, they lost everything.

But I knew.

Which is why I stayed.

I knew if I left, the new image they had of themselves would leave with me. Maybe not right away, but eventually. And that's why I have a perfect score for man returns. They always come back somehow.

So the bottom line of this not-so-Biblical post is my fear of man, to which I've been oblivious all this time, this deep fear of hurting people, led to me be controlled my entire life. And not even just metaphorically either. It got me held hostage. It got me assaulted. It got me hit. And the worst, it got me verbally abused over and over and over.

I don't want to hurt people. I want to be lovable. But I'm not Jesus. I can't die for everybody's sins. I'm not some kind of God. If I get crushed, it doesn't help anybody. If I get crushed, I'm letting a child of God get crushed. God delights in me and I let people use me as a punching bag to protect them from their own brokenness. I don't let anybody treat my dogs the way I let people treat me.

I'm not all I have. I have God. God will provide for me. But I really, really have to stop letting people take everything He gives me away from me.

Jesus forgives us, but in no way, as far as I know, did He ever protect anybody from their sin and brokenness. So why, then, would it be my job?

A sheep's eye view of the shepherd...

2010-03-15T02:49:00.009-04:00

Who does God listen to when a multitude prays for one person or one thing but ask for different things in the process? Everybody? Nobody? One special dude He wants to draw closer?

And on a similar yet unrelated note, it kind of bothers me when the "big" pastors lecture their people about how they're not celebrities. They are celebrities. It sucks, but it's true. They're recognizable, draw crowds and you can't get within arms reach of them. Celebrities.

It bugs me particularly because after podcasting numerous preachers for months, I've become attached to a few of them, and a couple of them have been the best teachers to me, which I think says a lot. They're particular people that my brain meshes with and that doesn't happen often. But being that they're celebrities, odds are, I'd never get to thank them for it or talk to them in person aside from screaming fanatical messages ten people deep in a crowd.

I did get to shake one of my favorite pastors' hand though. He was mostly in a rushed haze, whizzing by between sermons, but still...

And I did get to thank (or at least acknowledge) two of them, my two favorites, on twitter at Christmastime- on Christmas morning, no less. And they replied...

That totally made my day. So much so that I print screened like three screens into paint to make that collage of awesome to remember it. (Sorry, it ended up tiny for some reason when I imported it from the other, other blog.)

So yeah, they are celebrities, especially if we get giddy when they pay attention to us for a half a second. The difference is though, even though they're busy and popular and are under tons of pressure, they do it for us, for our salvation and for God's glory, not their own. Well, the good ones anyway. And I don't doubt that from their end too, they feel deprived of knowing me. :D Hehe, ok, that totally came out far more narcissistic than I anticipated. I meant "me" in more general terms. I mean, for God's glory, sure, it's great to reach a massive flock, but on a personal level, it must suck to end up confined to a tiny group because you end up surrounded by church groupies and strangers who claim to know you. It must suck to not be able to care for everybody and to have to delegate that away, when there are people that you would adore if you had simply had the chance to somehow cut through the crowds and accidentally meet them.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has felt slighted by being passed off to sort of "runners up" assistants and such. I mean, after you get to know them, you learn they do an awesome job and the awesome pastors do pick pretty great people to represent them, but still, the initial reaction is the same and it's terrible and full of [undeserved] resentment. It's like the pastor is untouchable, unreachable and you're not important enough to break through that barrier. You're just another of the thousands. A nobody.

But after a while, after dealing with assistants and associates and lesser known pastors, I've come to rely on them a great deal and now I'm always all giddy when I see their reply in my inbox because I know that even if it's not their voice I've been hearing for the past while, they do work effing hard to help us out and in the end, to help us feel less slighted, which is a pretty awesome feat, especially for an all-or-nothing stubborn girl like me. And in the end, the head pastor is actually caring for us by setting us up with awesome people who are accessible.

I remember my first reply from an associate pastor. (Or, really, whatever they're called. I still don't know the titles. I mean, I know his specific title, but is there a general word for "not head pastor, but next best guy"? I figure it's like university. Anyway.) It was well over a year ago, I think. And what I didn't realize is that there was a pastor at one of the churches I listened to who had the same name as the head teaching pastor but with one letter different, and so when I got the email from him, I was all, "Wow. They could have at least spelled the pastor's name right, no?" and I was all offended at the "fake" message, not realizing it was from an entirely different person, rather than a message from an assistant of some kind pretending to be the head pastor. And as horrible as I was in jumping to conclusions, especially about their honesty (how embarrassingly terrible in hindsight), this pastor with the one letter different would end up being such a sweet and caring person to me and was ultimately the one who'd dunk me in August (*blushes* because I know that might add names to this story for those who were there. I'm horrible. I know.). It really was kind of symbolic that it was him, I think.

They do their best, you know? Well, the good ones anyway. (I always feel the need to add that clause.) And so far, even though I'm at least a thousand miles away from my closest favorite one, I have never been forgotten when I really needed guidance.

Like on Christmas day. You can't tell me pastors aren't ridiculously busy on Christmas day. And here I am, in what somebody on mission here in Montreal called "a spiritual desert" earlier today even, and I just wanted to know I wasn't wrong, you know? I needed a little bit of Jesus before heading out for Christmas dinner with my atheist family. And the funny thing was, when they replied, it wasn't actually about them them paying attention to me. It was Jesus I thanked instead for giving me exactly what I needed that day. It wasn't about the pastors acknowledging me, rather a kind of... accidental pre-game dialog? Like, "Ok, it's Christmas. You guys taught me well. Let's do this day, even if I'm alone here," and they answered, "Let's do it!" You know? Deep down, I needed to know that I wasn't alone in this thing and Jesus took the time to make my teachers take the time to answer that one tweet to reassure me in the most personally blatant way possible (i.e. through caring for me) that particular day, even when I really had no expectations from wishing my favorite pastors a Merry Christmas (mostly because of altruism and a tiny bit associated to their celebrity status). Twitter was dead that morning, and I just wanted to thank them on a kind of day when people forget how hard pastors work and how much they sacrifice while trying to guide us. An important day to remember them, I'd say.

But that's the thing we can't forget though- the good ones, the ones diligently working for the kingdom, aren't working independently. If they're really doing God's work, then God will work through them and through their team. And so the things we adore and risk worshiping in our favorite pastors are probably not in them at all, but come through them instead. They might say things differently or contextualize things in a way that we learn quicker, understand more clearly or relate to more, but in the end, the important words are not their words at all, right?

And even if I feel neglected sometimes, an invisible member of a giant flock, I'm still grateful that there is this handful of amazing teachers who have reached me and taught me and guided me in spite of my location, in spite of their schedule and in spite of myself. I'm grateful for their example, striving to be godly men, living their broken lives as best they can for God's glory, suffering well, and just giving us hope that with Jesus we can get to a place of trust, growth and progressive sanctification.

Thank God for pastors. Well, the good ones anyway...

Random ponderings and wonderings...

2010-03-11T02:42:00.010-05:00

In the car, I keep a tiny green spiral pad of paper with a pen through the spirally thingies and when things occur to me while I'm driving, I grab it and dangerously jot stuff down. Most of the time, it's of a Jesusy nature, so I kind of feel like He'll watch over me and protect me from my own stupidity as I jot. Lately, I've been accumulating random thoughts, none significant enough for an entire post, so I'll just randomly cram them all into this one.

First, things I don't understand that I could probably look up but if I did, the answers wouldn't stick nearly as effectively as they do when I post them here and the universe (namely Eric) explains them to me. :D

1. Song of songs. Pastors say that so often, and I've checked my Bible and it doesn't seem to be there. Ok, that's a lie. I didn't check my Bible. And considering there are still books in there I have no idea exist, I should do that. Ok, like I thought, it's not there. I assume they're referring to Song of Solomon, but... why? Why change the name to confuse innocent, non-churchy girls who don't know these things? And why song of songs? Is it just an error? Or is this a common term for them?

2. "The Saints." From context, it seems to mean people who pray or are faithful or church workers? Or... um... I don't know. But I've never heard it till recently and now, everybody's saying it. Who are these saints?

3. Exegetical. I know what it means, but I don't get why it's used. The term, I mean. Is it to make non-believers feel that the teacher is smart so they won't discount them right away? Do non-believers know what exegetical means? I didn't, before I heard pastors say it repeatedly. Then again, we all know my vocabulary is at a grade seven level, if that...

Second, things that I'm wondering...

a. I'm still having issues with the "many" thing in Mark ch 14. In a sermon I listened to today, the pastor refers to Ephesians 1 as an example or explanation for how we can't lose our salvation. It's a gift from God and He chooses us for it (or doesn't) and once we have it, we can't lose it.

But He said many. Not all. And in Job 38:4, God says,
"Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
Tell me, if you have understanding."

So yes, we can't lose our salvation once we have it, but does saying, "I accept Jesus as my savior," or whatever the mantra is really do it? Or will we only have a glimpse of understanding the implications when we are at the end of our days and can say without a doubt that we didn't lose God? Or can we just not say a word about our salvation at all?

I know that in my lifetime, I will serve some sort of function in God's plan. That is one thing I am certain of. It might be a good function, a function that shows God's mercy or a function that ultimately shows God's justice or wrath, but I have no choice but to serve some function. That is what I'm here for, whether I believe in God or not. Obviously, I want my function to be positive, but even so, Isaiah says my works are filthy rags, so positive or not, in the grand scheme of things, I'm essentially a nobody, easily crushed by the might of God and only not crushed because He is merciful. Right? So who am I to say whether or not I'm saved?

Life isn't fair. I learned that really early on. So why would I count myself in the "many"? Honestly, I don't. I guess that says something about how much mercy I believe God to have versus how much of a nobody I am. But I don't see it that way. I think so many are too quick to bank on God's mercy and forgiveness, when we don't deserve either. God's might and my lack of ability to understand it versus my nothingness results in me not standing a chance.

Is God merciful? Yes. Is God good and just and loving? Yes. Will He choose me? I hope so, but I won't presume to know that it has already happened. The way things happened for me, the way I came to faith so brutally and against my will, makes me feel like I was chosen, and I love that feeling, but I can't know for sure if one day, I will ask God to give me faith and He won't. I do know for sure that if He doesn't it's for good reason, beyond my comprehension, but it could happen that God turn my heart hard before I'm done. It's also possible that God, knowing my heart more than I do, sees something in it that is already hard and closed off, something I deny.

Only God knows if I am saved or not. I don't understand how people spend their lives comfortable in their salvation.

b. Blasphemy of the Spirit. Pastors seem to feel the need to educate Christians that there is a devil and that there are demons. And in contrast, I've noticed that some Bible belt Christians are really quick to pin stuff on Satan. The minute something gets hard, it's Satan.

Mark Ch 3 says this:
28 "Truly, I say to you, all sins will be forgiven the children of man, and whatever blasphemies they utter, 29 but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin"— 30 for they were saying, "He has an unclean spirit."

And the way that was explained to me was that if we claim what is the Holy Spirit (or God or Jesus, I guess) as being of Satan, we've blasphemed the Holy Spirit. So if the Holy Spirit is responsible for some level of suffering that is meant for our good or to draw us closer to God and we blame it on Satan... then...?

So then does it become necessary to acknowledge Satan and evil, but refrain from assuming that Satan is responsible?

In Job, when Satan acted, he asked God for permission first, did he not? And even if he'd acted without it, God would have known. So however Satan acts, it is never independent of God, as nothing in this world is independent of God, so in a way, God allows it, which means... whatever is meant for evil, God means for good (as in Gen 50:20)... so if we blame Satan in any context for the sufferings in our own life, then have we not blasphemed?

c. Similarly, Luke 8:12 says:
The ones along the path are those who have heard; then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved.

But God chooses who is saved, no?

d. Retroactive prayer. Yesterday, while I was snowboarding, I praised God for the awesomeness that was snowboarding, snow, sunshine, a soft spring breeze, my lack of fear in attempting to jump in spite of my crash way back when, my lack of fear when the chairlift stopped in spite of the crazy bad experience I had last spring where I thought I would surely die on a chairlift, and while I was at it, I prayed that God would take a little girl whose body was riddled with tumors and end her suffering. And when I got home, He had taken her already, earlier in the day, before I prayed. And I praised God for His mercy and realized right then that I believe in retroactive prayer. If God is without time, and He gives us what we ask for, would He not know what we'll pray for long before we pray it? And that being the case, wouldn't retroactive prayer seem logical?

What if my prayers sometime in the mid-afternoon yesterday were answered by the cessation of her suffering earlier in the day? If God is as merciful as we believe He is would He not end the suffering as soon as possible rather than waiting for a prayer He knows is coming?

It got me thinking. If retroactive prayer works, what would I pray for retroactively?

My deceased grandmother's salvation?
My deceased grandfather's salvation? Yes, definitely that. He was a Pharisee to the utmost degree. Not an ounce of forgiveness. Not an ounce of humility. And not once did he share Jesus with me, but excluded me (and my brothers) from learning about the gospel because of his fierce disdain for me (he tolerated my brothers). He did force us to go to church when we were at his cottage, but it was a hellish experience (and he really only brought us because he didn't trust us to stay at his cottage without him around).

Yes, I'd retroactively pray for him. And being that I was the outlet for my grandfather's wrath, I think, coming from me, the prayers now might have changed something a dozen or so years ago when he died and sat before God awaiting judgment.

"This little girl who never stood a chance against you, whom you called 'Erika' out of disrespect, whom you excluded from everything with a bitterness and coldness, whom you destroyed with your words, will grow up and ask me to forgive you and give you eternal life."

Seriously, he called me Erika. I even have a Christmas ornament with my birth year and Erika engraved on it.

I hated how he was so hard to please that aunts, uncles and cousins of mine ripped themselves to shreds trying to measure up. I hated how he spoke to my grandmother. I hated how he wouldn't even let her learn how to drive. I hated how he treated me, but I never expected more from him. His hatred of me was all I knew of him. It was the foundation he'd built our relationship upon and I couldn't change that. But now, after the fact, I think I can change something.

I don't doubt that my grandfather believed he was saved. I don't think he ever missed a Sunday until he was in the hospital. I think he was far too proud to ever humble himself to the thought that he might not be saved. He might have feared hell, but to deem himself unworthy of heaven? Not sure. Like I said, all I knew of him were the worst parts.

God have mercy on those worst parts.

e. And on mine too...

f. They say if you really love Jesus, you'll be ready to give up anything to be a disciple. Jesus asks the rich guy in Matthew 19 (and Mark 10 and Luke 18) to sell all his stuff and follow Him. He asks people to give up what they seem most unwilling to give up, and I think I would give it all up but at the same time, I wonder what it says about who I think God is that I would not only give it up, but that I somehow expect Him to take everything away from me just to prove it. What I mean is if my dogs, for example, are what would be the most difficult for me to give up, I acknowledge that, but then this dark part of my heart somehow waits for them to go. It's like I expect God to end their lives and ask, "Do you love me now?" I guess I don't understand why I have anything at all. I don't understand why I have a roof over my head, why I have my health most of the time, why I have water and sustenance and the fact that I don't deserve any of it creates in me this sort of sorrowful fear that God might take everything away from me to prove a point somehow. And I'd let Him. But do I really have to be reduced to Job's nothingness? Is that what has to be in the cards? Do I really have to end up with nothing at all?

And I know it comes from a sort of self-loathing humility that was burrowed deeply into me through an endless string of circumstances and events, but even if I rationalize it and try to presume God's mercy and that even if I don't deserve anything, God still wants me happy and whatnot, I know that there is no reason for any of that to be true. I know that there is no reason for assuming that having anything is what is best for me (which is a relationship with Him), and ultimately, that is what God wants, rather than happiness, no?

What prevents me losing everything? God's mercy? But if I don't deserve it and if things of this world are meaningless, why would God's mercy come in the form of sparing my dogs?

I can't justify it.

That's the thing, I think. Pastors, teachers, and even Jesus sometimes, cater to the extremes, the sort of sinning majority. Most people I know have something they would rather die for than give up. But I've lost everything already. So many times. It makes me wonder if what I have to give up is not the good stuff, but the bad stuff.

Like my assumption that the only way to truly love somebody is to give up everything for them.

But how is that wrong?

Beats me. (pun intended)

On sex and dating...

2010-03-09T01:23:00.015-05:00

I stumbled upon a ridiculously good-looking man named Christian, and as Jesus and I discussed life over a cup of tea, I joked about how it'd be a good way to get around the whole "marry a Christian" thing. He thought it was funny, of course, because He knows my intentions. Obviously. Especially since this Christian was already well-taken and we both knew it.

I've been wondering about the dating thing lately, mainly because I'm not allowed to introduce new characters in my life at this current juncture, thereby making it the perfect time to sort some junk out.

I've never dated as a Christian before. As I was describing how I pictured the evening progressing to one of my few Christian friends, it went something like this:
I picture sitting there silently sipping [soy]milk with a straw until it makes those empty bubble noises.
And then I'll say, "So..um..."
And the guy will say, "Yeah."
And we'll nod.
And the silence will be deafening.
Until somebody drops a plate and then we'll laugh at the clapping.
And then the silence will return.
And then he'll say something like, "So, I have to work early in the morning so we should..."
And I'll agree.
And then he'll hug me in a stiff awkward hug and that'll be that.

That to me is what a good Christian date for a good Christian girl looks like. And I don't like it. *crinkles nose and shakes head*

So I asked around. "What does a Christian date look like?" and the majority of the answers I got were of the "I don't know" variety. Do people never wonder? Or do they just play it by ear?

I would imagine that Christians playing things by ear without thinking things through is not the wisest idea. I think that's what they "lovingly" call "hedonism".

Frankly, I've never been on a date before. At least, not to my recollection. Well, at least, not the tv type of date with the dinner, the idle chat, the movie and the awkward quasi-platonic journey home. My Christian friend says it's because I've only ever been with douchebags. *nods in agreement*

But to be honest, when he said that, I wondered what excluded me from being the douchebag. Sex is my thing. And by "my thing" I mean it's the thing that I have the most trouble with since this whole Christianity thing hit. Well, aside from the church thing and the whole trying not to get self-righteous around other self-righteous Christians simply because I feel I understand what "grace" means thing...

Let's get the obvious out of the way, and by obvious, I mean the things that Christians, and in particular, pastors, seem to be most worried about, only I'll throw a star in it so people don't find my blog searching for po*n. There. I said it. Mumbly, with a star. I think that may be the only thing in the world that is taboo to me. Why? Because I hate it. Passionately. I think it's voluntary rape, if that makes any sense. They consent to it, but in my opinion, they don't consent to what they are actually doing. But nobody looks at the eyes, right? Don't want to kill the mood or whatever. I just don't think that people choose to participate in that kind of thing when they have a full deck of cards to play with and I, for one, think it's horrible that they, and especially women, subject themselves to that kind of demeaning, terribleness because they somehow end up in a place where it seems like a viable option. I absolutely despise it.

And just in case somebody thinks I'm vehemently against it because I have some sort of secret issue with it, I'll explain. I have this thing where if you give me a picture of somebody that you believe shows their true self, I'll be able to tell you what their core person is like. I will be able to tell you their motivations. Their insecurities. Their deep-rooted hurt and pain. And so, in consequence, there is no way I can look at that kind of thing, and particularly the women, without seeing all that and at that point, it really becomes watching abuse or even rape on a screen and that bothers me deeply.

So, no, that is not at all the trouble I have blending sex and Christianity. *shudders*

Anyway, so in the bookstore a couple of weeks ago, I ran across a book that said that the emphasis on virginity was to blame for all of the major issues women face today. And at first, I was shocked that somebody would write a book saying virginity is a bad thing and right away assumed that the author was a (former?) skank who wanted to justify her promiscuity somehow, so she wrote a book. And I was partly right. Well, mostly right. But she did have one point that I wish she'd have elaborated most on- we do put way, way too much emphasis on a woman's sexuality. Whether it be through promoting promiscuity and sexual "freedom" or by pushing purity and telling women to cover themselves up, the message is the same: women are all about sex. And that, to me, is a major hurdle that women face. And me, in particular.

1 Peter 3:3 says this:
Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— 4 but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious.

Back in the day, and still in some societies today, the parents picked the spouses or it was arranged based on status or place in society. Now, we choose our mates based on attributes we value, even if those attributes are not what aids in creating an enduring bond and relationship. Add to that the baggage we carry that clouds our perception and the sway it creates towards certain qualities based on past experiences and we could be setting ourselves up for disaster.

Seeing as I'm fairly experimental and ridiculously flexible, I decided that my poor track record of men and the patterns I can't seem to break out of make me unfit to choose my own mate and as such, four of my closest friends, along with my brother and his girlfriend (who is also one of my closest friends) have now acquired veto power over anybody I choose. They are allowed to interrogate any guy of interest if they need to and I am to present the entire story, not a glorified, altered version to make him look good (which is how I managed to stay in abusive relationships in the past), and they will assess his suitability and exert their veto power in consequence.

So far, they've vetoed one guy already. I'll explain.

I'm a wordy kind of girl. I am a challenge. I like a challenge. I need a challenge. And I found myself challenging a guy I had found in blogland. At first, the conversation was simple and trivial, but then something he said about how we should be free to explore love with multiple partners sparked my debatey bits and I got a little confrontational, defending his daughter's right to have a dad who shows her what a good [godly] man should be. What kind of example of a man was he setting for her? What kind of man was she going to end up if this was her example? He brushed me off, and when I happened to be in his town late last summer, I messaged him to ask if he wanted to meet me in person. He said he was busy. And that was that.

Fast forward a few months, and I got a message from him asking me when I was going down there again because he'd like to meet me. Or maybe, he said, he'd even drive all the way up here. Really? Why the sudden change of heart?

After a few back-and-forths, it came out that he had recently learned that I was pretty. How did he put it? Something like, "I was looking through your pictures [on facebook] and you're really beautiful. I was like... hello!" And so, like any good girl without normal compliment processing abilities nor adequate man selection skills, I copied and pasted the message into a chat window of one of my vetoers. "That's kind of a douchey thing to say after all this time," she said. I resisted. I pinged another friend with veto power and did the same. "Wow. That's douchey. Veto." After the fourth veto, I finally got the hint that no arguments in the world about how awesome his arms are (they're dreamy) were going to get them to change their mind.

"The tribe has spoken," and his flame got put out.

It's hard. Part of me wants to grab that flame and run. :D

Logically, I know. I know that nothing productive or constructive will come out of a relationship in which my mind doesn't matter at all. Nor will a healthy relationship stem out of such disrespect and disregard for my person. And I haven't even touched the "is he a Christian?" question yet.

I do want somebody to see me as a soul, rather than as an object.

But like I said a thousand words ago at the top of this post, sex is an issue for me. Sex gives me confidence. Nobody raises a woman up like the man who wants to sleep with her, even if it is all temporary, manipulative and fake.

What my vetoers heard from his message was, "You were an absolute nobody until I saw what you looked like," and what I heard was, "You're beautiful." I hate being an object, yet it is the easiest (temporary) confidence-booster there is. I let myself endure disrespect and abuse because I don't expect more for myself, I don't expect men to see me as a soul. Hence, the need for people to step in and veto my poor choices.

I used to be the girl who loved sex. You know the one I'm talking about? The one who says she doesn't attach love to sex. They're two separate things. And I used to really believe that. You really can have sex without the love, but it's such a low standard both for a person and for sex itself. The best part about one night stand sex is the randomness of it. The sex itself is rarely good because neither of the parties knows the other person well enough. There's no intimacy. There's the bare minimum of trust necessary to get over the fear of something terrible occurring. It's sex without all the best parts. But I used to love it anyway.

And then I fell in love. And sure, people will say, "Of course sex is different with somebody you love," but that's not my point. My point is that I was in love and I had the sex that in love people have and the relationship went on for a year and a halfish, with discussions of marriage and future things and then he (a self-described devout, church-going Christian, no less) called me in the middle of the night one random night and confessed that he wasn't at all the person he claimed to be, that it was all just a game and I was just a toy all along. I was a vacation. A fun ride. That, I think, was the moment in my life when love and sex finally cemented together. Had I known, and had I agreed to that kind of relationship, I would have been ok with it. But all of a sudden, I was in a place where I was told from the very beginning by the man himself that I should expect more (a lie) and so I did and got absolutely destroyed. It was like a rape of the soul. And in the end, it's the same thing, whether I had known or not, right? Either way, it's just sex. But I got to see first hand how powerful it can be when it's in the wrong hands. I got to feel what happens to the soul when we don't take sex seriously and are made blatantly and crushingly aware of the consequences.

So yes, you can have sex and it can be a short-lived physical act that you can trick yourself into believing has no consequence on the soul, or you can expect more for yourself and seek out what God intends for sex- a joining of the souls that brings people closer to knowing God.

And I want that. I want my soul to experience that. But I know my patterns. I know myself. And the only way I'll ever get there is if I trust God and trust the people who love me to show me where my standards need to be to get there.

So what does a Christian date look like? I don't know either. And frankly, I'm not going to find out anytime soon both because of the inevitable constant vetoes and because after a string of terribly abusive situations, I need time alone to rebuild my life and my person such that I won't let it happen again. And if the posse vetoes a guy in a matter of seconds, it's safe to assume I'm not there yet. But that's ok because I'm free to grow and learn and lean into God to help me be a stronger, healthier person and in consequence, one who makes better, more godly decisions.

I'm free.

On atheism, believing and intelligence...

2010-03-02T03:26:00.002-05:00

There are the so-called secular cities, like Seattle where Driscoll preaches or more evidently, Manhattan where Tim Keller preaches. And then there are the cities like Dallas, as described by Matt Chandler, where people think they know Christianity when they really don't. They're the dechurched or the hyper-religious. And then you have Quebec.

Quebec, I think, is a little different. It's not secular and it's not dechurched Christians. It's some sort of angry hybrid of the two. People here don't just think church is old-fashioned and behind the times. People here actually hate it and everything it represents. Whether it's because of all of the sexual abuse at the hands of priests and preachers that makes headlines, or it's because each successive generation was taught less about the gospel and more about religion all while getting more and more educated (and hardened) - either way, it doesn't bode well for Christianity in Quebec.

Some dude, self-described as "a married atheist libertarian with a strong distaste for liberals" (from this article), from London School of Economics and Political Science published a study in which he determined that in accordance with evolutionary expectations, "people with high IQs are deemed more likely to be liberal, monogamous non-believers than those who are less intelligent."

He seems to be arguing that being liberal, monogamous and a non-believer is more evolutionarily forward because:
a) Being liberal implies you help provide resources to those in need, to no benefit of your own;
b) monogamous people have evolved further than the hunter-gatherer-polyamorous genre;
and
c) those hunter-gatherers were also more likely to try to find meaning or spirituality in their surroundings in an effort to understand or explain the goings on in nature.

Of course, those points are me paraphrasing so again, here's the link to the article I read.

Ok.

So they think some conservative, religious.. uh.. polygamists? will be offended by these findings.

First, just because a study says believers are dumber doesn't mean we all suddenly caught a case of the dumb just because "science" says so. ("Science" being in quotes because I haven't read the original article and if it's just one dude's opinion, that's not exactly science.)

I don't remember ever taking an official IQ test in my youth, but every time I do one for fun, I score somewhere between 135 and 145 (although I always feel they inflate the numbers to make people feel good about themselves). Frankly, I think those numbers (even when accurate) are absolutely meaningless, but that's my personal opinion. You know why I feel that way? Because who writes those tests? Is that person, like, a 200 scorer? Are they the ultimate genius in the universe? How can somebody with, say, an average IQ write a test that will stump somebody smarter than them? Unless God writes the test Himself, I'm not sure that it means anything except that the taker of the test thinks in a similar way to the writer(s) of the test.

Just to cement my point, if I know you well enough and you write me a multiple choice exam on any subject, even a subject I know nothing about, I could probably ace that test. Not because I know what the hell the answers are, but because I know you and how your mind works and what tactics you would likely use to throw me off. Honestly, it's how I passed some of my physics classes. And if you really wanted to make it easy on me, all you have to do is read me the questions. I will fairly confidently pick out the right answer just by the subtle changes in your voice. It has nothing to do with intelligence, rather a disproportionate level of manipulative skill that comes from being messed with enough over the course of my short lifetime to always judge situations and read people in order to protect myself. It's not about knowing the answers but knowing what they are looking for, and that is driven by the fundamental motivations of their person, which is exactly what the least trusting of us is consistently aware of.

But I digress.

George Stroumboulopoulos, aka "Canada's boyfriend", the host of The Hour on CBC was the one who highlighted this study and poked my debatey bits about it. Right away, I knew the answer. But first, at the end of his show, he ran the usual mock headline, and today's was: "God on smart atheists: I made them that way". (Which, by the way, had an extra dimension of funny to it seeing as Strombo's show, I would have thought, is really left, liberal and far from religious supporting, although his mom is very religious and he did have Billy Graham's daughter on tonight...)

The answer as to why atheists are statistically smarter is because it is exactly that that drives them away from God. If we look at the story of Adam and Eve in the garden, the most important part (to me anyway) is that Adam and Eve chose independence over God (and consequently, messed up the world because no matter how good we think we are, we're all broken and irreparable without God's mercy). So here's the cycle:
Man doesn't understand something as pertains to his soul and/or the universe -> there must be a God who created all this -> something bad happens, some sort of suffering occurs, something just doesn't make sense at all, we are faced with a choice in which leaving God seems favorable -> there is no God, God was just an illusion created as a buffer for our fears, God isn't important.

At this point, there can be two directions:
1) If God chooses this person to have faith (as Ephesians 2:8 says, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God..."), and the person decides to either pray for his faith to be restored and begin the seeking process or God simply restores it somehow;
or
2) If this person is either not chosen to have faith or not chosen yet or has an alternate path to God's glory (I won't presume to know how God chooses or works), then they tend to set out to prove that there is no God, or no need for God, through scientific reasoning.

Of course, they never successfully prove that there is no God, rather prove the aspects of creation that we don't understand fully, and that understanding or awareness is what inevitably comes with intelligence, and especially with a healthy curiosity.

I don't doubt that if you are a person of faith, the more curious you are, the more intelligent you are and the more open you are, the more likely you will encounter periods in your life where you absolutely lack faith, where you wonder if there is a God or if you just believe to appease some sort of inner fear or temporary need. But the line between a smart atheist and a smart Christian is drawn at independence and pride.

When I first realized I fell for Jesus, I could have shut that down. I could have repressed it, thrown it into some far off dark corner of my brain and chalked it up to being accidentally manipulated or momentarily brainwashed. I could have taken my life back and not upset nearly everybody I knew. I would have been the life of the party had I decided to present facts debunking the Bible, God and Jesus to my atheist and agnostic posse who knew very little about Christianity but presumed to know it all anyway. It would have been easy to fall back into the old habits that have been burned into me my entire life.

But what if it's true? What if? What if the indescribable feeling of contentment when my soul feels connected to God is actually because it's connected to God? What if God chose me? What if?

And what if Jesus was real? And what about all the atheists who decide to research Him to prove He's a fake and end up screwed like me and have to shamefully switch teams?

What kind of intelligent scientist am I if I say something I have never researched is not true or deny the information that is readily available and say it's impossible to know whether it's true or not? It's kind of like the "scientists" who say there is no problem with corn syrup or trans fats. They just haven't done their homework. They haven't approached the subject with an unbiased, real determination to get at the truth, even if it's unfavorable to their profits, their social status or their own beliefs.

In theory, it is impossible to prove there is no God. No matter how far you go back in the Earth's history, and how much you explain, there will always be another question. How many questions do intelligent atheists have to ask before they're satisfied that there is no satisfaction in their answers?

Intelligence is an idol. It's something that gives us value. And I know that when I thought I was better than the believers, my intelligence gave me pride. I know that I felt I had more value because I was able to think for myself and think logically and strive for awareness rather than shielding myself under a shroud of religion.

But I'm still me. I'm still the girl who questions absolutely everything, and I still live in this place where Christians are morons who just don't know better (yet), and I still have faith. And life was easier without it- just like how the gay people I know say, "Do you really think we'd choose a life with more obstacles and challenges?" would I really choose Christianity? Was it my choice? If the God I believe in, the God of the Bible, is real, then I didn't choose it at all. And frankly, I believe I didn't choose it. I know the disdain I had for religion. I know the hate I felt. I know how deep-seeded my cringe mechanisms were and still are in the face of Christianity, or any other faith really.

When somebody with no missional experience and no concept of altering the message appropriately for the audience blurts out something about Jesus in a room full of bitter, intelligent atheists, I cringe. Visibly. It almost hurts. :D It's an innate reaction at this point. And I tend to be the witty one in the room, so you can imagine the product of my (former?) disdain mixing with my wit in the face of blatant Bible-thumping.

No, I didn't choose Christianity. I did try to choose to be gay for a while after the endless string of abusive men, but that wasn't mine to choose either. *shrugs*

My point being I'm a smart girl (I think) and as a result of my intelligence and curiosity, I worked hard at learning about Christianity and no matter how scientific the approach was, God is about the heart and that's where He got in.

A lot of people who don't believe say they've already read the Bible, several times even. Most had to read it in school or something. But it's not just a book, you know? You can't just read it. You have to pray on it, feel it, open yourself up to the idea that maybe the words are alive, that maybe it's an entire spiritual experience rather than just words on the page. Because without that openness, it is just a book, and you'll be able to read it over and over and over again and never see the point.

Keeping faith in a place where faith is frowned upon is difficult, and sometimes, I lose it. Sometimes, it occurs to me that I don't feel God, that whatever it was I might have felt before was just a craving to be loved or a deep loneliness or a denial of some sort or maybe indigestion (hehe). Sometimes, usually when I'm driving, I get this, "Crap, what if I have to tell all the atheists they were right and this was just a phase?" idea wave through my brain, and really, I'm not the type of person to shy away from that kind of admission. If it happens, I'm ready to come out with it. They're likely going to throw a party or something. Maybe dunk me in mud to get the baptism cooties off me. :D But then I remember what got me into this mess in the first place- I asked. With an open heart and an open mind, I asked God to get in. And He did. And so that's how I keep my faith here: I ask.

A lot of it is dealing with the Holy Spirit too, even if I have no idea what that's all about yet.

John 14:26 says this:
But the a Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.

I'm still not clear on the whole Holy Spirit thing, but I know that there are times when things just sort of stand out and if I follow those things that stand out, I find God again. For example, the other day, I was reading Counterfeit Gods, and it occurred to me strongly that haven't read my Bible in ages. I signed up for the "Bible in a year" thing, but my reading is weak and slow (I never read jack when I was a kid), and now, *checks email inbox*, being the first of March, I am already at least 49 days behind. I say "at least" because I know I clicked some accidentally and marked them "read" when they so weren't. Has there even been forty-nine days in 2010? Seriously. :D Anyway, so I'm reading the book and this, from page 17, stands out:

Paul understood the true meaning of Isaac's story when he deliberately applied its language to Jesus: "He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all- how will he not also, along with him, freely give us all things? (Romans 8:32)

- Tim Keller's Counterfeit Gods

I kept reading to page 18, and ended up stopping to write the blog post a couple down from this one on having cake and eating it too and after writing that, which was at all hours of the night, I picked up my giant ESV study Bible and meandered over to Romans 8. That quote from page 17 doesn't stand out. It doesn't really hit hard or tug at the heartstrings or provoke some sort of emotional reaction, does it? It's just... *shrug* I mean, yes, it's great that God would give us all things freely and that He gave us His Son, sure. But that specific bit of text isn't all that impressive, and yet, it stood out that night. It's one of those things you can ignore as a fleeting thought of no consequence, or you can follow it and see where it goes. And it's also one of those things where when you ask God to get back in and He tries to, you really want to be listening.

And so I did. Just in case.

The good thing about being a newbie who reads excessively slowly is that most of the Scriptures are new to me. It wasn't as though I read the Romans 8 reference and was all, "Oh, yes. Romans 8. Classic." No, I turned to Romans 8 without a clue as to what it was. Honestly, even though I've read Matthew and John a bunch of times, if you whipped out a chapter number, it's likely it'd all be new to me anyway.

So this is what I found in Romans 8 on a night I was questioning my faith and asked:

35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?
[...]
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, 39 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.

Of course, being that I'm a smart girl, my second reaction is that it's just a fierce coincidence, a lucky draw. My first reaction, the one I quickly brush away just instinctively, is that God answered. And the difference between being an atheist/agnostic and a person of faith is after my second reaction, I go back to the first and let it make me smile.

And then I do that kiss two fingers, touch my heart, hold 'em up to the sky thing and laugh at myself. :D

On atheistic strength and endurance versus God...

2010-03-01T01:44:00.008-05:00

Matt Chandler jokes that there are two tenets to atheism: "There is no God and I hate Him." And last week, or maybe the week before, he discussed it a little in a sermon and pointed out that when bad stuff happens, it's God's fault and when good stuff happens, we own it. If people suffer, then obviously, our God is a cruel God. But that we have life at all? That's science. That's procreation. That's because we do pilates and eat multi-grain bread.

I bring it up today because it was evident with the whole tsunami warning thing. Yesterday, people were so terrified at the threat that prayer requests became trending topics on Twitter. When does that happen? When does something serious about God become a trending topic? When we're helpless and don't know what to do. But then the waves were much smaller than expected and there was no trending topic to reflect what God had done, if it was indeed Him who answered the prayers. There was no "#ThankGod" hashtag trending. No "GodisGood". And definitely no "God answers prayers".

We overreacted, that's all.

Science will prove later why the giant earthquake didn't create the tsunami we all expected.

But when something like this happens in this new world we live in where everything that happens is suddenly received by a massive collective and redistributed by that same collective, it gives us a clearer picture of our attitude towards God. Had that tsunami devastated us, who would we blame?

And when a two year old is dying of cancer and her parents are confident that God will save her simply because of all of the people who have been drawn closer to Him in her suffering, the atheist I used to sometimes be would ask, "What kind of god allows a little girl to suffer her entire life just so other people would ask about him? What kind of god makes a martyr of a sweet, innocent baby? What kind of god strips away her life and crams her body with tumors just to make himself look good?"

If there is no sacred-secular divide and everything is meant to glorify God, then that doesn't just mean the suffering. It means God gave you life. God gave you love. God gave you everything in this short little life that makes you happy. It means all of it, the joy, the pain, the good times and bad, is a gift and to acknowledge that is to glorify God with that gift. (Kind of like how you used the glitter you got from your parents on your sixth birthday to make them the most gaudy card ever to express your excitement about it.)

People think a good God would just give us happiness. But what if experience is more important than happiness? Without a doubt, the more aware we are of the nature of this world, the more we experience. Isn't that what life is about?

I realized this past week that I might have totally misunderstood one of the tenets of Buddhism. Somebody I know claims to be Buddhist (it's really more of a pick-and-choose Buddhism than a profound one..) said to me several times, "Happiness is a life without suffering," and to be honest, that did not appeal to me at all. If that's what happiness was, I didn't want it. While suffering is terrible, the rate of growth we experience from it can't be matched by anything else that might replace it. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right? So it made no sense to me that an entire faith would be based on an idea that is so counterproductive, and not only that, but also is absolutely impossible in the world we live in. We can't go a day without feeling some sort of suffering. And to pretend we are at that place where we're happy and there is no suffering at all is to have our head jammed so far in the sand that we don't know which way is up anymore.

But this week, I read it differently. "Happiness is the end of suffering." It sounds almost the same, but it hit me in a different way. It didn't say, "Happiness is a lack of suffering." What if it means that happiness is simply the perception of our suffering?

In Christianity, if suffering brings us closer to God, closer to a more complete trust in God, then it becomes a good thing in the end- depending on how much you trust God.

John 12:25 says this:
Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

If God is God, and God is our Creator, and suffering draws us closer to Him, then we should want nothing more. If God is not God, then we should love this life and cling to it and to its events, circumstances and relationships to provide us with fulfillment, happiness and love. If God is not God, then there is no reason at all to endure suffering. I mean, there is rapid growth, but why is rapid growth something we should desire if our goal is to be happy and without suffering? Growth and awareness lead to more suffering which leads to more growth and more awareness. Seems to me, we should be avoiding those at all costs if this life was merely about this life.

When I was younger and a mess, I remember telling somebody that I'd be more proud of getting over something like depression or suicidal tendencies on my own rather than leaning on some god to get me through it. I'd rather build my strength to overcome it at the risk of failure than succeed despite being weak enough to need a god to rely on. I didn't want a crutch. I wanted to conquer on my own merit.

But for what?

To be stronger going into the next struggle for survival? And then the next? And so on and so on until my finite life ended and I was coffin-bound? What for? Why endure everything for nothing? Because life is a gift? What kind of gift is it if it doesn't come from somebody? Life is precious? Why, if it's meaningless?

One of the things I always wondered, long before I became a Christian was, "Why me?" and not "Why did these things happen to me?" but "Of all the people in this world, why was I given the strength to survive these things? Why me?" Things would happen, bad things, one after the other after the other and sometimes, I would feel utterly overwhelmed by how terrible life was. Life was bad at some points. I mean, really bad with no hope of getting better. But I didn't die. I didn't give up living even if I gave up on life. My heart kept beating. I kept going. And then there were the physical injuries and illnesses and I nearly died more times than a lot of people I know. But my heart kept beating. I kept going. And all the while, I was ready to die. I really was. Death never scared me and still doesn't. Deep down, I have always felt temporary and I've always been ok with that. But of all the people, why me? So many people cling to this life, cling to their loved ones' lives and I don't, and for some reason, I've been allowed to keep mine.

Why me?
Why hasn't my time come yet?
Why is my heart still beating?
Why am I still breathing?
Why, after all I've been through, am I able to love?
Is it really because all those years, I stood up on my own and got stronger each time?
Or is it because God is merciful and even when I hated Him without even knowing Him, He showed compassion and became my heartbeat?

Why me? They say if God stops thinking about you, or I guess being aware of you, then you cease to exist. So here I am, invisible girl living a meaningless, invisible life, wondering why the hell I haven't died yet, when the reason is exactly the opposite of everything I know- I'm meaningful, important and visible to the only "person" that matters, even if I didn't believe in Him at all. The fact that I haven't ceased to exist, the fact that my heart kept beating when I didn't want it to, is hindsight proof to me that I am loved. That's not to say people who die are unloved, but just that the way things happened for me, again in hindsight, seems a little more hands-on.

I look back at those things that happened, and if I got through them because I'm strong and I got stronger each time, then theoretically, I could do anything now. I could endure anything. I'd be invincible. But I look back at some of the things, and if they happened again tomorrow, I'm not sure I could handle it. I'm not sure I have the strength to get through those same things now that I endured back then. I'm not sure I'm as strong as my self back then would take credit for.

But it doesn't matter anymore anyway.

There is a God and I love Him. And how weak that makes me is absolutely irrelevant.

On having your cake and eating it too...

2010-02-18T03:00:00.005-05:00

From page 18 of the tiny hardcover version of Tim Keller's Counterfeit Gods:

God saw Abraham's sacrifice and said, "Now I know that you love me, because you did not withhold your only son from me." But how much more can we look at his sacrifice on the Cross, and say to God, "Now, we know that you love us. For you did not withhold your son, your only son, whom you love, from us."

Am I the only one in the universe who downplays that? Am I the only one who diminishes the sacrifice a little, believing that the sacrifice for me personally on the cross isn't as great as the sacrifice Abraham faced?

Isaac was Abraham's and was a sacrifice to God. Jesus was God's and was a sacrifice to us- to the billions of us. I think I'm not alone when I excuse myself from true faith because I see the sacrifice as a small piece of a huge pie that was disbursed to the world rather than an entire sacrifice for me personally. If my part in the sacrifice is just one slice, my life is not all that important, and so if I don't read my Bible today, or even if I ignore God entirely, that's ok because it's just a slice. It's like I'm Jesus' baby toe. Sure, it would suck to lose a baby toe, but it's not nearly as important as other parts, like, say, the heart.

But that's exactly it. If God knows all the birds by name, then He knows me, and if He knows me, the sacrifice was personal. If I was the only human, would the sacrifice have occurred? Probably, if not eventually. The sacrifice didn't occur because God decided that He wanted the important people in heaven and this was the only politically correct means to the end. It occurred because I, as any other, am broken beyond self-repair.

So what if I am not an infinitely small slice of some universally disbursed pie?

It's a heart issue. To whom, or to what, does my heart belong? The worst case scenario is that it belongs to me and me alone. What kind of heart would that be? And if it wasn't mine, if it belonged to somebody or to a thing, is that somebody or thing really of greater importance than God?

Or maybe my heart's just fearful. Maybe I'm afraid to actually mean something to somebody. Maybe it's more comfortable to be a nobody. But then if God created me and knows me better than I will ever know myself, wouldn't He be what's most comfortable? If God created me and delights in me, wouldn't I already be a somebody, regardless of my self-perception?

So I'm not Jesus' pinky toe.

At worst, I am His whole body, the suffering and the pain.

At best, I am His heart.

And if I'm His heart, shouldn't He have mine?

On idols and ambition...

2010-02-10T00:32:00.006-05:00

In the introduction to Counterfeit Gods, Tim Keller asks two questions that caught my attention.
1.What is the thing that makes us think, “If I have that, then I'll feel my life has meaning, then I'll know I have value, then I'll feel significant and secure”?
2.What do I fear the most? What, if I lost it, would make life not worth living?

The first, he says, is found in our daydreams. The second, in our nightmares.

At first glance, it seems that these questions are good for us. They're good questions to ask in order to figure out what our idols are, and in what temporary and fleeting things we place our value. I've been trying to figure out my idols a lot lately, partly because I'm trying to figure out why it is that I feel worthless at a basal level. Obviously, if I feel worthless than the things I derive my value from are failing miserably. So what are they?

One thing Matt Chandler whipped out during a sermon he gave a couple weeks ago was that comparison is an idol. It hadn't occurred to me that needing to rate yourself on a scale based on those around you would be a way to derive value, but it's actually a fairly obvious one once you notice it. I do compare myself. Often. If I'm not failing as miserably as somebody I know, then I'm more ok than I would be had I had nobody to compare myself against. The problem with that arises when I surround myself with people who excel at everything I fail at. Suddenly, when surrounded by a successful entourage, my worth diminishes at an astonishing rate.

But what are the things I daydream of? What are the things I imagine will bring me happiness? See, this is where it fails for me. I know most people probably dream of some sort of career or money or stuff or even a relationship, and those dreams make these questions easier to answer. But me? I dream of adventures. I dream of losing everything and being forced to make do with my own survival skills, if I actually have any. I dream of getting married and hating it. I dream of an impossible relationship in which I have the upper hand. I dream of intense suffering along with intense passion. But when I dream, they're more like glimpses of the impossible or highly improbable, rather than dreams of things I aspire to have or experience. They're just short stories in my head.

And my worst nightmare? I don't even know. I'm afraid of so much in my conscious life- heights, throwing up, drowning, rape, spiders... So much. But my worst nightmare? What do I feel life would be impossible to live without? I'd like to say my strength but even that is not mine. Even that is God's gift to me. I didn't do anything to cultivate my strength. I didn't choose it. Through a series of events, some of which were unbelievably painful, I endured, and that's not something I can take credit for. Even before I knew God, I knew the strength I had and in some circumstances, the help I had without asking, were gifts. I knew I was lucky somehow. So by the grace of God am I strong, both physically and mentally, but they're not really things I can possess to lose. I do know that it's hard for me to ask for help and so a potential nightmare would be to have to rely on people, but even that would be an extension of my comfort zone, which is something I strive to do with everything anyway.

But if I don't dream and I have no real nightmares then what is it that makes me feel worthless? What is it that is failing to give me value?

And on the other hand, if everybody were to give up the satisfaction and value they seek in their endeavors, what would ambition look like? Would we have any at all?

I'm not particularly ambitious. At this current crossroads of unemployment, that is one thing that is in my way- the lack of drive towards any particular goal or direction. If I don't need a career to give me value, what motivates me to find one at all rather than just a job?

Or as an entirely different analogy, if I don't need to wear the latest fashion to feel beautiful, what drives me to spend that kind of money, time and effort on it?

In other words, if the things we idolize are essentially good things and there is nothing wrong with striving for them, where does the boundary between healthy pursuit and obsession lie? What is healthy pursuit? Is it simply in the reasons for which we pursue things? If we are driven and ambitious and say we're trying to glorify God in our endeavors is that healthy? And on the flip side, where is the line between giving up idols and just plain giving up?

The other concern I have is looking at people who turn their obsessions over to God also seem to end up in a certain level of poor mental health. In particular, I'm thinking of the girl who feels the need to save everybody. Her every word is Jesus-related. Her life revolves around Jesus and from several pastors' messages, that would seem the ideal, but to be in her presence is to sense this enormous defect. It's this deep-seeded loneliness that she drowns out with missions and God. She uses God as an idol, rather than as the true God deserving of worship, if that makes any sense. It leads a person to wonder if she actually does believe or if she just uses the role of a Christian to give herself worth. And the worst part about it is the day she realizes it's not working is the day she will lose God entirely, even though He's not actually the one she's worshiping.

Are we capable of healthy pursuit? Or are we better off seeking balance instead?

When I was studying Scripture intensely and listening to upwards of forty hours of sermons a week, I did start to feel unbalanced. Even a pursuit of God can turn into an unhealthy obsession. Lately, I've been taking it easy and focusing on prayer, just to take a break, even things out. I feel I need balance, but supposedly, I don't when it comes to the pursuit of God and I don't get that.

How will we be of any use if we are so specialized in one train of thought? I've always been a believer of John Stuart Mill's idea of a university providing a universal education, and in this time, we're striving for specialization more and more, going after double PhDs and whatnot in one very particular domain and that, Mill says, makes us less useful to the humans around us and the world around us than if we had chosen to learn a little of everything. What good is having a passion for God if you aren't well-rounded enough to be able to present it in such a way that anybody can benefit from it? We do need balance. We need balance to be effective in most things.

So what is healthy pursuit?
What is ambition without idols?
What is motivation without dreams?

Ever since I lost my job, I've been trying to figure out what my dreams are in an effort to give me some sort of direction, some sort of drive towards a future that won't suck the soul out of me. I'm not looking for fulfillment, per se- I just want to be able to get out of bed in the morning. I want to be passionate about what I do. But what kind of career path will I end up facing if I am not allowed to dream or if dreaming is idolatry? How are we supposed to be effective if we're not supposed to be driven by our passions?

How are we supposed to feel alive when we aren't using our gifts to their utmost? If we are given these gifts and no outlet by which to make use of them, then why were we given them at all?

Therein lies my idol, I guess. I can't find what it is that allows me to use everything I have. And that makes me feel useless. That's why I want one particular multi-faceted job so badly and dread getting called by all the others, even though I do need a job- any job- and should be grateful for any calls I get.

Instead of wanting a job where I can be useful, I want a job where I feel useful.

But again, without passionate things to strive for, what becomes the motivation to strive at all? Shouldn't we be happy with the bare minimum? Where does the ambition come from if not from false hope and the empty promises we pretend these things hold for us?

What does healthy pursuit without idolatry look like?

I guess I have to finish the book...

On toothbrushes and the need for prayer ...

2010-01-31T14:41:00.008-05:00

I suppose I should post something on here every now and then.

Lately, as a result of my lack of employment and lack of direction, my focus has waned from theology-driven inspiration and moved towards self-preservation. There's one thing I've been meaning to discuss for a while though- Adam & Eve.

So if those of us who believe in evolution decide that we can't take the story of Adam and Eve exactly literally, then that means we have to figure out how that fits into human history. Was there some point in our history when we made a deliberate choice that gave us what we felt was a more direct control over our fate and consequently altered our evolutionary path?

Twice in the month of December, I somehow found rocks in my restaurant food. It happens to me fairly often and I've come to chewing more delicately in restaurants just in case. I remember my dentist explaining the disproportionate strength in the jaw and the slow reaction time when we hit something unexpected, and the result is cracked teeth. Being that I'm unemployed and have no dental insurance anymore, my cracked teeth have been left festering and probably slowly destructing at the hands (or unrelenting enzymes) of not-so-friendly oral bacteria as I negotiate with myself about whether or not I can endure the discomfort for yet another month.

Why are our teeth so fragile, I wondered.

I remember in my first year of biology, one of my evolution profs was explaining things and mixed into his explanations was that our ancestors and tooth decay were mortal enemies (although, I can't seem to find evidence of that on the interwebs to provide adequate back up, so for argument's sake, let's just use it as a metaphor). So supposedly, ancient variations of ourselves were prone to cavities and tooth decay and eventually, the oral rot would poison the blood and cause premature death, which makes sense since poor oral hygiene can still do that today.

And then we invented the toothbrush. Or at least a wooden variation of what would become the toothbrush sometime in the twentieth century.

Had we not invented the toothbrush, survival of the fittest would have meant those least prone to tooth decay would have flourished and those with weaker teeth would have died out.

But, in adopting teeth cleaning methods as a way of preventing our demise, we may have chosen intelligence over physical fitness. That may have been our fruit in the garden of eden.

Think about it. Do animals know what is good and what is evil? Are they cognitive enough to realize the difference? I wouldn't say animals are evil, but would they recognize it? Some dogs do, I guess, but it's on more of a personal level. While they might recognize a certain person as being evil, I'd bet that they don't sit safely at home and wonder why the world is so full of evil. But if we selected for ourselves a path of evolution that favored intelligence rather than strengths of a more physical nature, then we also chose a path that would lead us to become more aware of ourselves and of the world around us.

While we could have remained blissfully unaware, by opening ourselves up to learning the truths of the universe through favoring intelligence, we become image bearers of God because all of a sudden, we've placed ourselves on a path to know. Knowing the difference between good and evil might create in us a sense of justice, which Christians seem to believe is an innate attribute that humans have as a result of being image bearers of God.

Obviously, we were image bearers before we chose anything (according to the Bible), but then God being all-sovereign knew that we'd choose this path, right? And He also knew how much it would affect us.

As we progress, the world becomes smaller and smaller and we become more and more aware of the worldly suffering, hardship and evil. And it's not just ours either. We see the animals suffering. We see the brutality of the natural order of things and we somehow decided we're apart from it, even though we have our own massive examples of human cruelty and torture.

We chose to eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. What if that was us choosing an intelligence-driven evolutionary path? We chose knowledge over the rules of fitness by which everybody else with whom we share this planet abide. We chose to know and knowing means becoming aware of the good and evil in this world.

If it's not the toothbrush, it might be something else. But really, how come other animals' fitness doesn't seem to be based on one evolutionary characteristic? They're fit overall, whereas we use our intelligence to overcome our physical weaknesses.

And what if God gave us prayer so that when we did start to learn of the misery and suffering of this world, we could feel a little less powerless? Maybe He gave us prayer because He knew we'd often get to a point where we'd know too much and could do nothing about it.

Choosing intelligence would give us this overall sense of empowerment and authority over our existence that we absolutely don't possess. Prayer is for those moments when we humble ourselves and realize that.

I've been praying a lot more for me lately. For my faith and so that I won't give up praying for others. It just seems so futile sometimes. You pray for a friend to have the strength to get through the heartbreaks of the day, and tomorrow, they're faced with a whole slew of new heartbreaks to face. It never ends. I used to know a couple of people who were lucky and now I don't (lucky people tend to just hide their sufferings better than others), and where those lucky people used to give me hope, now, the only hope is from God and God alone. There's no other source of hope. Without God, the world really is this merciless place of endless suffering and anybody who sees it as anything else should open themselves up to empathizing with those around them. There is so much suffering. So much grief. And when prayer feels futile, when everything seems overwhelmed by the brokenness, then there is no hope, there is no God. But somewhere deep in our soul, regardless of what we face, we just know that's not true. We know there is hope.

And that is impossible in a random, merciless universe without God.

Thank God He knew us before we ever will and prepared us for the consequences of the choices we made and still make every day to our own detriment.

Thank God for prayer.

Things I learned this week...

2010-01-24T12:21:00.006-05:00

It's far easier for me to keep my faith around non-Christians than it is around Christians. I think it's partly because the atheists and agnostics I know are the most loving, caring, beautiful people and God's goodness shines out of them. It's also partly because they seem to have their priorities straight. Something about striving to be a good person just to be a good person and just to love those around you seems more genuine than a forced Christian niceness. It's more of a reflection of a changed heart, even if that heart doesn't realize all good is from God. It's what is truly godly, in my opinion- to love for the sake of loving rather than through obligation or as the fulfillment of some sort of set of rules.

But by the grace of God am I saved and consequently, I can't know who is saved and who isn't. In consequence, those I might use as role models might not be what God wants us to strive for at all.

Is a Christian who makes me loathe Christianity a Christian at all?

Or am I just soft and expect God to conform to my standards?

All I know is when I share the goodness of God with people who don't know Him at all, my faith is restored. My faith is restored by the challenges they give me, by having to prove why God is God.

When I talk shop with Christians, it tends to stray away from that and focus on me. Am I good enough for God? Am I devoted enough? Am I Christian enough?

Well, Christians, no, I'm not. I'm none of those things. I never will be. But that's ok because God loved me before I even tried. God's goodness poured out of me before I even knew Him.

If an atheist plants wheat, the wheat will only grow in the way God intended it to grow. The atheist's wheat is still sacred. Everything is sacred. Everything is of God. There's no division between us and them. If this canyon between Christians and non-believers is filled up by one sentence uttered at an alter call, is that really an eternal divide?

Or is it in our darkest, most alone moments, when even the atheist feels God?

If no one enters the kingdom of heaven but through Jesus, and Jesus healed and taught the dregs of society, then what difference is a few words when He knows our soul?

Christians tend to be afraid of universalism and that's fine. But even if you think some get in and some don't, maybe it'd be wise to be a little less certain of the criteria and a little more certain that you're not loving those around you enough.

We're all broken. We all have baggage and betrayals and traumas and hurts. But if we are selective and protective in the way we love, we aren't truly loving at all. If you can't pray for your enemy, or for a person who just icks you out, that's the divide right there. That's the heart that Jesus knows.

Alter call words aside, are you ok with Jesus knowing who you really are?

On the lung cancer debate, drowning and the real issues.

2010-01-23T23:00:00.002-05:00

This will be a short rant in the form of an analogy.

Lung cancer kills a lot of people annually. Life is sacred and if lung cancer is killing people, then we should ban lung cancer entirely. Problem solved.

Except that people start smoking, and then years go by and all of a sudden, they find themselves in a situation that they sort of knew was among the risks of smoking, and yet, their need for a cigarette for whatever reason outweighed that risk at the time, or rather, each time they lit up.

But if we ban lung cancer and remove all treatments, where will these people go? What will they do? Will they have to get black market drugs and treatments? Will they have to see fraudulent "doctors" in back alleys?

Banning lung cancer doesn't get rid of lung cancer. It just takes away any safety surrounding it.

If you want to prevent lung cancer to the utmost of your ability, you have to go back to when this person was a child and teach them and love them and teach them to love their body also. You have to teach them what they are worth. You have to show them with all your being that that is true. You have to guide them and be involved. You have to love them unconditionally such that if they do dip their toes into troublesome things, they'll come to you anyway. You have to teach them that even if they make mistakes, if they take responsibility and work hard to right things, there is always a possibility of forgiveness and healing.

On the other hand, if you close all the doors of communication, show no support nor love to this person and they wind up in trouble, don't go after the one person who is trying to keep them safe. It may not seem that way, but if a person gets themselves into enough trouble to feel cornered, trapped and past the point of no return, then yes, the person carrying the horrible drugs that are the only possible remedy for the situation (in this case, lung cancer) becomes the only person who is trying to keep them safe.

What I'm trying to say is if a person feels so vulnerable and exposed as a result of your lack of guidance, love and support and feels there is no way out but through means you deem to be horrible, well, it's too late for your opinion to matter.

Or to put it an entirely different way, if somebody is already drowning, they don't want you to teach them how to swim. They just want you to pull them out. Banning lifeguards won't stop people from drowning.

Banning abortions doesn't stop women from the desperation that got them into that waiting room to begin with.

If you do it right, if you handle the issue right from beginning to end, whether abortion is legal or not shouldn't even matter.

Just sayin'.

On "real" Christianity and the evidence thereof.

2010-01-06T02:25:00.006-05:00

Christianity is about following Jesus. It's about being a disciple of Jesus, growing and learning through faith and through the teachings of the Bible. When I first started to learn about it, the Christians I talked to were all, "It's all about Jesus. Just Jesus." They threw out the usual line about how if I accepted Jesus as my savior, I'd be saved.

Over the past year or so, probably closer to two now, I've immersed myself in Christianity, even getting to the point of driving fourteen hours to get baptized at the church I loved in North Carolina. I thought I was in. I had Jesus, I believed in Him and in God. I also believed in Jesus' story in the Bible too.

If it's really "Just Jesus", I thought, then I guess somehow, against my better judgment, I ended up a Christian.

Unfortunately, what I've learned in the past couple of months is it's not as simple as "Just Jesus".

The human world is all about the filters.

When I started my degree in exercise science with a specialization in athletic therapy, I was told it would be a good gateway program to get into vet school later on. The problem was that I got filtered out. See, it's a small program and the ones who are passionate enough to go on to be athletic therapists are easy to spot. They're kind of jocky, but also super scientific and practical. I'm scientific and practical, but I'm not jocky. Even if at one point I craved a snowboarding career (I still do, but I stifle those dreams appropriately), I was nowhere near the build of my fellow classmates, nor did I know nearly enough sports trivia to even try to compete. The profs knew that. They picked me and a couple of other med school wannabes out of the crowd and gave us a really hard time. Why should we be there sucking up their resources when all we want is the piece of paper?

So I got filtered out. If there's one way to get rid of med/vet school wannabes it's to threaten their GPA. No matter what I did, no matter what I learned, I barely passed any of my classes in my second semester. My taping jobs were perfect. I'd practiced on my cadaver-esque ex as he lay passed out on the sofa every evening. I'm not even kidding. I taped him up good'n'proper every day. Elastic bandages to keep his pulled quads tight. Tape around his sprained ankle so he could get back on the field and continue playing... I taped every articulation and muscle on his passed out body. I even did my emergency care procedures on him too. But still, when the test day came around, I'd end up with a C.

C is for Christianity... :D

Definitely feels similar sometimes.

The last time I went to church was sometime in November. I sat down in my "usual" seat, usual being any seat on an aisle and close to the door. One of the regulars sat in the seat in front of mine. "Why don't you come sit here?" she asked pointing to the seat beside her, a mid-row seat. "Or is that too drastic a change?" (sarcasm)

I wondered why. I mean, I was sitting here first, right? So... How does it make any sense?

"I'm fine here," I said.

She kind of stopped talking to me after that.

We stood up, sang the usual songs that make me squint in my usual "wtf?" way and at the end of it all, there was the bread breaking, and the usual glares in my direction because I don't get in line.

Maybe it's just this church, I thought. Maybe we just don't get along?

So I took a break.

There was another more informal church that met downtown at 4PM. Since I'm a night owl, that time was more convenient for me. But I still didn't go.

Christmas came around and that's one of those times when everybody and their atheist nephew go to church. But I didn't.

After Matt Chandler's brain things happened (on the US thanksgiving), I went into hyper-prayer mode for a couple of weeks and then they found out he had brain cancer and I just kind of put everything on hold. I kept praying, and kept thinking about things, but suddenly, I felt as though my priorities were wrong.

The local church might create a community of Christians, sure. But the church I was going to felt like a forced community. It felt like a lot of people there were only there because church gave them some sort of validation and not only that, but it quelled a sort of loneliness within them. Christianity is supposed to do that, yes. Jesus is supposed to fill the void we may feel. But church isn't. You know what I mean? It's like the difference between meeting a godly person to marry at church versus going to church because it's a single people meatmarket.

I'm a magnet for lonely people. I wouldn't consider myself lonely, probably because I take for granted that I have so many people ready to be there for me should I ever be in need. But the lonelies flock to me. It's like they see something in me that they don't see in themselves. But in the case of this church, they seemed to want to fix whatever it was in me that they saw. They clung to me like I was teetering on the edge of suicide or something.

I may have a past that's nasty in some respects, but it's by no means any sort of sympathy generator. Just because your childhood wasn't so bad doesn't mean there's something wrong with me nor that you should feel responsible to have to nurture me to death. I'm fine.

Well, clingy people freak me out... but aside from that, I'm fine.

Anyway, the point being, here I was trying to wedge myself into this fabricated community and as I grew more and more uncomfortable and felt more and more controlled, I felt the need to get out of there.

But the Bible says we need community. The church I adore in NC is all about the local church. They've got forty year plans to reshape the community and stuff. It's great. And it made me pray for months to get an Acts 29 plant here. And finally, in my period of church abstinence, one of the Acts 29 guys tweeted that sure enough, somebody got approved for the Montreal area. Immediately, I emailed him.

In the meantime, I had offered to edit the membership course curriculum for the NC church. I'm good at editing and in the process, I could learn something, so why not? Even if it was fifty-six pages long. :-O

So on the one hand, I was reading and editing this enormous thing about the whys and shoulds about church committing, and on the other hand, I had emails coming back to me about gathering finances and networking and committing to this new church plant.

Whoa.

No, I thought. I can't do it. I can commit my time, I can commit my spirit, but committing my body is another thing entirely. I emailed back saying (paraphrased), "Look, I'll help, but for reasons I won't go into to spare us both the novel, I have a lot of trouble with commitment. I'll help any way I can, but I am quite limited." I didn't get a reply to that email.

Of course, being that I'm analytical about me, I had to figure out why I had so much trouble committing my body. As a kid, I had headaches all the time. I thought I had a brain tumor, but they never found anything. From there, I moved on to lung problems and throat problems and even had my very own voice doctor. One or two attempted sexual assaults caused me to drown any consciousness and awareness in alcohol. After I got out of that, I dabbled in anorexia, was held hostage for a few hours in another sexual assault attempt and then suffered a pretty severe brain trauma in which I lost my perfect eyesight and required glasses after that. I entered an abusive relationship, gained forty pounds in a few months and ended up nearly dying of an autoimmune disorder. I got out of that and ended up with a two year long migraine. Add to all that the fact that I had had panic attacks nearly from birth on until fairly recently and that I have severe food intolerances to nearly the entire world's menu, and the end result is my body and I don't fare very well in social situations. I don't like to commit my body to anything because it has a hard time being ok. It can't eat properly, it feels trapped easily and just for fun, it throws in some massive amounts of pain whenever it pleases.

I can handle emotional trauma. I've got coping mechanisms for that. But when your body shuts down, there's nothing you can do. I'm supposed to avoid stress at all costs. If I get stressed, my body is likely to start devouring itself again, either in the same form as last time or in a new form, like arthritis or MS (although, new research seems to have distanced MS from autoimmune things, so that's good news for me... if it's true). Trapping my body in any situation stresses me. You see?

Anyway, add to that that the new church planter and his wife remind me of the most terrible set of people I know (I'm not even kidding, the pastor had my betrayer's favorite song as his license plate, wtf? And his wife is identical to the betrayer's too. It's freaky.) and suddenly, I'm trust into an awkward situation. One, which, if you recall in spite of the absurd length this post has already attained, I've prayed for for months. Great.

When a couple of the Christian people I talk to online got wind that I wasn't going to church, all of a sudden, I was doing something wrong. And that's when the whole "Just Jesus" thing started to crumble and I started to get filtered out of Christianity.

Over the past few weeks, I've been told, "So then you're not really a Christian," several times by several people.

I guess that means I'm not.

Christians have this thing where they feel the need to panic about your salvation constantly. It's like everybody is teetering on the brink of losing their faith and so it's imperative that risky stuff gets pointed out as soon as it comes up. There's no benefit of the doubt here, because the stakes are too high. You know, eternity and whatnot.

And so, here are the few reasons my behavior as a Christian shows that my heart isn't really changed and therefore, I'm not a real Christian (or so I've been told):

- I'm not a member of a local church. Regardless of my reasons, regardless of the circumstance, if we want to be disciples of Jesus, we must care for His "bride", the local church. (Although, I'm still trying to figure out where in the Bible the word "local" characterizes the church..)

- I don't do communion. It's not important to me that Jesus sacrificed Himself. I spitefully (oh yes, spitefully, even if my body is physically unable to handle it) decline the powerful symbol and that's very telling.

- How did they put it today on twitter? Something like, Christians who want to warp the scriptures to suit their agenda focus on the vague scriptures rather than the clear explanations of scripture? I love the gays. And I can't pick and choose what I believe and what I don't in the Bible, so something's gotta give. Either we're interpreting Romans 1 wrong or oversimplifying it or...

- If I truly understood the sacrifice of the cross and the forgiveness it bestowed upon me, I'd easily forgive the three or four men who have assaulted me over the past sixteen years. Obviously, my lack of forgiveness towards them means something. As does my lack of forgiveness towards my mother who left when I was two and only returns when she's in some sort of danger or trauma (usually involving people of a criminal nature). And of course, not being able to forgive my betrayer for raping my soul falls into this category also.

- If I can't be godly and find godliness in a purely capitalistic, unethical work environment, then my faith is probably weak and I give in to temptation far too easily. Maybe other people can do it- maybe it's just me who can't trample people to get to the top in a godly way. Who knows?

- When I feel I fully grasp the gospel, that is when I actually grasp it the least.
- Conversely, if I say I don't know God, even if my basis for that seemingly agnostic statement is that God is so great that there is no way my inadequate human faculties can properly grasp Him, then evidently, I don't know God at all, and therefore, my Christianity is empty.

- If I feel God chooses those He saves and devote myself to prayer and answering questions in response to that, then by not preaching the gospel to the atheists around me every chance I get, I am not playing an active role in the salvation of others and I probably don't understand how important it is.

- Similarly, if I'm not constantly correcting my fellow Christians, I have no concern for their faith nor their salvation. If I really cared, I'd hold them accountable until they cut me out of their lives completely.

- Same goes for the gays.

- If I fall asleep before praying, it shows something clear about my heart for Jesus.

- If I pray that God take a suffering little girl to end her suffering, I underestimate His power for healing.

- If I love my own life, I don't trust God nor do I value the big picture that is His plan.

- If I don't see myself ever getting married, it's only because I don't think the God I worship is a good God who provides.

- If I feel deserving of anything, I don't understand God's mercy. But if I feel I don't deserve anything, I underestimate God's grace.

It goes on and on, and in the end, I feel filtered out. I'm not a Christian. My heart clearly shows that it is inadequate for Christianity.

Nevermind the love. Nevermind that Jesus loves me and vice versa. Sometimes, like they say, love just isn't enough.

But hey, at least the community I do have, the one that doesn't count because it's outside church, knows my heart. They know I've already committed myself to them, even though I commit to nothing. They know if they need anything, I'll sacrifice my entire being to make sure they get what they need. In turn, they know I'm not perfect, but they also know that I try harder than most people. They know my past and have loved me through it and vice versa. They know my mistakes before I make them, and yet, even though they wasted energy warning me, they're there to help me up after I've fallen (again) anyway. And they know I'll be there too.

I may not be a real Christian, but I do know how to love people. I do know community. I do know forgiveness, however difficult it really is in the hardest of circumstances.

And I do know that the God I worship is good in such a powerful way that we don't even have a word to describe that kind of goodness. And that, to me, is evidence enough that the judgment, constant criticism and just plain wrongs we commit to each other in the name of Christianity is not the way to godliness.

The Good News?

2009-12-25T23:59:00.001-05:00

Alternate title: A rambling semi-ranting, partially coherent post about church in the media here in Quebec.

More than 100 churches in central Nebraska canceled Christmas services, CNN affiliate KHGI-TV reported.

The decision for safety's sake could put a serious dent in some churches' finances.

"The Christmas collection in a parish typically is very important," the Rev. William Dendinger, the Roman Catholic bishop of Grand Island, Nebraska, told KHGI. "We hope those people who don't make it that day will be there New Year's Eve or New Year's Day and make those kinds of contributions."

Although that particular quote is from CNN (here), that's the only kind of story we hear of church and religion up here. We get similar stories, where above the importance of people actually going to church on Christmas to worship God, show appreciation and be in community on the day which represents the incarnation is money and church greed. It's partly the media's spinning and it's partly what we see with our own eyes if we ever do set foot into lavish, wasteful, usually empty churches here.

We also get stories like this, where four priests are complaining that there is too much English in services here. In a place where pews are empty, where churches are being turned into condos and where the overwhelming majority has been burned by the church in some way, it is just incredible that four priests would be so openly apart from the cause they are supposed to be for. Instead of bringing the good news, they're bringing bad news, badness and even more resentment for an already poorly viewed church. It's horrible and the media loves it.

If there was any accountability at all, these four would be sent to a gospel bootcamp to learn what it is they should be fighting for. But alas, as the people here have seen clearly over the years, there is no accountability. Molesting priests are given funding by the church to attend university, an opportunity for education most people here can't afford, and one which the priest in question obviously did not deserve according to the informed public (sorry, I can't seem to find a direct link to that story online at the moment).

Stories like these are the ones we hear about. They're all we hear about when it comes to anything religion. Four preachers from all across Canada abusing and destroying the people they are supposed to be serving. And that's just in one week.

Even more positive stories, like this one, in which they interviewed a priest who has a reputation for giving great sermons discourages me, albeit in a far more subtle way. The Montreal newspaper journalist had to leave the city of Montreal, cross a bridge and drive a good fifteen to twenty minutes (without traffic) to another city to find a preacher worth publishing a story about? What does that say about the situation here?

I just want to grab somebody in some sort of position of authority and shake them and say, "What the hey are you doing?" But there is no person of authority. Well, unless you count the pope, and it seems somebody already tried to shake him this week.

How are people supposed to hear the good news when all they hear is bad news? Overwhelmingly horrible bad news at that.

The sad thing is if there ever was some sort of governing body that could and would go defrock the baddies, it's likely that eventually it'd become a boys' club, and would start to select for the wrong reasons.

So this is how it's going to be? False prophets abound, pain and hurt rampant, separation from God instead of reconciliation? This is all there is?

Why did God let Noah live? So Jesus could be born? So that we, the descendants, could tarnish His image, lead His beloved sheep astray and slaughter them? Why? Why would God create us to begin with? Why would He allow such horrible, selfish, ungrateful beings to exist?

I can't answer why he created us to begin with, but I'm guessing the reason He hasn't gotten rid of us is due to the incomprehensible grace, mercy and patience He has for us.

Sometimes, I kinda wish He didn't.

Then we would cease to exist and finally stop hurting each other so much.

16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. 18 Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. 19 And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. 20 For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. 21 But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God.” (John 3)

No matter what we do, we just can't fix ourselves. Not as individuals nor as a collective.

34 And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed 35 (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.” (Luke 2)

Merry Christmas.

Anirniq.

2009-12-18T00:37:00.007-05:00

In Tim Keller's "The Reason for God", chapter nine, titled "The Knowledge of God" talks about the knowledge we have of God that seems to come innately. As he puts it, "I think people in our culture know unavoidably that there is a God, but they are repressing what they know." (p 146 in the hardcover version)

But what if believing in the Christian God represses what we know to be true of a different God or a different set of truths? Or what if there is more than one truth?

While watching "The Snow Walker" the other day, I felt immersed in Inuit culture, even if for just a small fraction of time. Everything has a spirit. Everything works together in a certain brutal harmony. Everything is important and the spirits must be respected. I won't get into too much detail, both because I don't know most of it and because I don't want to be disrespectful and write things out of context without doing them adequate justice. But the principles in the movie, which were very influenced by the Inuit people in the making of the movie in an effort to be accurate, are the principles I know and have always known.

Ever since I was little, I've been an animist. As far back as I can remember, my soul felt connected to the moon somehow, as though it was watching over me. When I was young, probably around four, one of my earliest memories was rejecting the moon and feeling alone in the universe for the first time. But the moon still affects me. I can't pretend it doesn't. On a warm summer night, when its blue glow hits my skin, there's something different about it.

And as I studied biology, one recurring question or idea bothered me: how do we know what they think or why they do things? How do we know they aren't making concessions for us?

The analogy I used to use jokingly was of a bear. We think we're smarter than a bear because we've invented things like guns. Throw a man naked into the woods and see how long he survives. Are we really smarter than bears? Or do they just not need guns and cars? It wouldn't occur to us to invent tools and arms if what we were given physically was adequate for anything other than hiding.

Another example is the dog. There's a poem going around about a dog who gets rejected because he snapped at his owner and the owner reacted badly to it. I am the alpha in my house. I rule over my dogs. They listen to me. And if they don't listen to me, there are consequences. But my big dog's mouth, when fully opened, could fit the majority of my face. He definitely could fit my neck in there. Those jaws can snap beef leg bones in half. And my little girl? Her jaws aren't all that big, but she's agile. She could probably go for my jugular before I had time to react. But why don't they? Because I've trained them not to? I doubt that. I never pulled my dogs aside and provoked them to go after my jugular in order to correct them. "Never! Never touch my jugular!" No. Why don't they?

Obviously, there are stories where the dog gets aggressive towards its human, but usually, those stories follow years of neglect or other abuse, a traumatic incident or a head trauma. Dogs don't just "turn".

But I play with my dogs fairly aggressively and more often than not, I end up hurt in some way and they stop immediately and wait to see if I'm ok. They can't not know they're more powerful than I am. My big dog certainly knows he's smarter than I am and uses his intellectual powers for evil, so why not his physical strength?

How do we know what they think? How can we be so arrogant as to presume we understand their thought processes?

One morning, a dog kibble rolled under a closet door. My little girl saw it go under and tried to get it but wasn't able to. A few days later, when I'd totally forgotten about it, I got something out of the cupboard and walked down the hall, leaving the door open. My little girl wandered behind me and the second she had totally passed the closet door, I saw her remember. You could see her eyes change and she stopped and retrieved the kibble from inside the closet. Did she smell it? Or did she really just remember? If she remembered, she had to have a thought process about it.

Another time, I said something really quietly to her, something like, "Do you want to go out?" or "Do you want a cookie?" and she didn't fully hear me, so she stayed laying there, her eyes shifting around the room. About a minute after I had said that something, she suddenly got up and ran to whatever it was I had asked her (either the door or the cookie stash, I can't remember which it was). It was like when we humans barely hear something and then replay it in our minds trying to figure out what it was we'd heard.

My point being, as a child I was raised in the woods and spent hours alone in the forest or with my dogs and I could always feel them. I could feel the trees watching over me. I could feel my dogs doing the same. There was something very spiritual for me when I was young and surrounded by living beings who weren't human. It wasn't a God-human relationship though. It was more of an earthly partnership- we're all in this world together. We all have a certain level of suffering and of joy. We may as well share it and share the burden.

Maybe it's just shared energy rather than spirits. Maybe it's the way our molecules interact. Maybe it's anthropomorphism. Or maybe, as Tim Keller accidentally suggests to me, it's something my heart just knows is true.

But how does it fit with Christianity?

I'm a scientist. The major stereotype and prejudice against Christianity up here is that only irrational people can believe in it. And so, as a scientist, it wasn't easy to believe it. I had to work out all the kinks and loopholes and apparent inconsistencies. One of the means by which I did that was by acknowledging that if God (and consequently, the Bible) is the truth and science is the truth, then they must match. Of course, sometimes, the science we know to be true today is wrong tomorrow, but some things stay constant. Like... constants. So it's never either/or for me. As a simple example, if science points to evolution, somehow the Bible has to fit.

The same idea can be applied to animism or the sort of nature-based spirituality I've felt my whole life and Christianity. If I know one to be true and I know the other to be true, they have to match.

At first, I thought it'd be a fruitless endeavor. Christianity was on the right and animism was on the left and getting the two into an area of common ground seemed impossible. But it had to work because these are my truths and letting one go would mean letting Christianity go and I could not do that.

Why Christianity?

Because it's the one that comes least naturally to me. While my soul loves both, I can't deny the things I've felt and experienced that led me to animism so early on. I will always feel them and remember them and know, deep in my soul, that they are true. But in the same way, after months and months of research, prayer and reading, I feel God too. I feel Jesus in my life. I know Him to be the truth now, although the process for me to come to that was not nearly as fluid, especially since it has always been far easier for me to reject Him.

While animism feels inherently natural, there are times when Christianity feels like a human concoction. There are aspects that are so quickly converted to religion and duty and those things consistently rub me the wrong way. The world is chaotic, yet ordered. It's beautiful, yet brutal. It's fantasy and reality all wrapped into one intense, powerful package that we get to experience for such a brief time. We do put too much pressure on the temporary to make us happy, but at the same time, we often don't experience the world for its awesomeness. Animism kind of allows that. It allows us to feel the world as a soul among many, as one togetherness, as Creation- the way God intended.

Earlier on, in the Intermission section of Tim Keller's book, he talks about how if you were forever a character in a play, you wouldn't know about the playwright unless the playwright wrote himself as a character in the play. And in our story, God did write Himself in, as Jesus. So we know about Him because He became a part of the story.

Elsewhere in the book, Tim Keller refers to the analogy of the elephant in describing truths. He says (although I believe the idea is attributed elsewhere) that often people look at the truths of the different religions as a group of blind people would experience an elephant. One would grab the trunk and say, "An elephant is long and flexible," while another would have the foot and say otherwise. They're all parts of the truth, but only the sighted observer from afar has the superior knowledge it takes to see the whole truth (which is impossible, really, and quite arrogant, but I digress).

But if we look at said elephant along with the fact that Jesus wrote Himself into the play, would it not make obvious sense then that each group was given a piece and all the pieces put together would form the elephant? "I am He," Jesus says when they come to arrest Him (John 18:5-6). What if God put people all over the world, in places isolated from the words of Jesus, to give us an idea of what the shadowed side of the elephant looked like while we were on the sunny side, or vice versa? What if we know it's an elephant, but the size of it and the complexity of it make it impossible for us to know all there is to know (and understand) about it? What if while Jesus told Israel He was God, God was elsewhere telling other nations truths also? The only way, apart from God Himself showing us, that we would know the whole truth would be to all come together and share what truths we know. Some perceived truths might be proven otherwise. And others might fit together in a perfect puzzle of complements, which, from the Christian perspective, would end up ultimately pointing to Jesus.

Apparently (according to the ever accurate wikipedia :D), the predominant religion among the Inuit is Christianity, but the Inuit have managed to intertwine their natural spirituality into Christianity. How did the Inuit, who became isolated from other societies so early on, somehow develop a spirituality that could line up so naturally and profoundly with Christianity? What are the odds that a nature-based belief system and a humanity-directed faith in Jesus could complement each other that peacefully and gracefully?

And so, thus far, I have no choice to make. For God so loved the world, not just the humans. He created all of it, and as I am but a mere human who will never fully grasp the greatness of God, I can't take for granted the partners He's given me to share in this earthly life.

Anirniq: Breath, spirit of life.
p.s. this book looks interesting.

Inspirations.

2009-12-01T02:38:00.003-05:00

In this blog post on the Resurgence site, Matt Chandler discusses what stirs and robs him of affection for Christ.

I started asking what stirs my affections for Christ. What, when I’m doing it, when I’m around it or dwelling on it creates in me a greater hunger for, passion for and worship of Christ and His mission? [He lists eight for this one.]

I don't really feel like posting a neat, brief list. I'm not a brief kind of girl. But I'll put numbers just to satisfy my need to adhere to rules. :D

1. Prayer - the importance of prayer becomes apparent for a lot of people when they've suddenly lost control of something or feel helpless. For me, it's the other way around. Prayer forces me to admit I am helpless on any regular Thursday. Or in the car on the way to get groceries. Or in the shower. Or lying in bed at night. The only time I don't really pray is in the morning. Somehow, because I am already not a morning person, praying in the morning makes me irritable.

When I was in therapy for anorexia and panic attacks for a few years a few years ago, my shrink eventually discovered that if she booked me early enough in the morning, she could get at my core reactions a lot quicker than she would later on in the day. I'm vulnerable in the mornings. My guards are down and my only way of protecting myself is through anger and irritability. I am just not in a loving place in the morning, rather it becomes the time when all my wrongs, fears and traumas bubble up to the surface. I guess maybe that's why depressed people don't get out of bed in the morning.

The bottom line is, I don't pray in the morning because I'd rather not start my day as a puddle of goo on the floor. I need to build up a certain measure of strength before I can become powerless and vulnerable, as ludicrous as that sounds.

Either way, praying throughout my day maintains my affection for God and for Jesus, and I'll be honest, it helps that my prayers are answered so awesomely so often. But at the same time, God and I know that the day He doesn't seem to answer one of them, I'll still be ok and I'll still love Him because the only reason He is answering them is because they were the right things to pray for, they were things that glorified Him through my prayers and their fulfillment.

2. I'll steal one of Matt Chandler's- Walking through cemeteries - This one is new and it might not be the #2 of importance or anything, but it's fresh on my mind after two trips to the cemetery in under a week. My reasons are different than Matt Chandler's though.

First, I've always been an animist. I believe that everything has a soul, or at the very least, shared energy. I believe that we have the capacity to transmit strong energy to things outside of us. I believe the power of the mind and spirit is a lot stronger than we realize. We just don't take the time to understand it (or at least try to). Being in a cemetery affects my soul that way. There's something about it that stirs me in a particular way nothing else does. It's like there's a collective energy in there that our soul connects with deeply.

Second, it makes very evident the separation between living souls whose body has died and living souls whose body hasn't. It feels like a divide rather than an absence. And if our souls do separate and we end up with God alone, rather than together among other souls then it would only be natural to feel that divide until we are fully reconciled with God. It would be natural to us to feel as though our soul is apart from something it used to be in togetherness with. Cemeteries ignite affection for Christ in me because they stir up a desire for a bridge.

3. No escapism - I'm already the most sober person I know. I have been sober since 1996, after sitting on my front porch with my brother on a hot summer day and drinking my ceremonial last beer ever. I'm also the kind of person who tries to confront everything as it comes rather than giving it up to the usual defense mechanisms and coping strategies. I face my demons. But another thing I learned in therapy is that you can only get to the deeper issues after you've dealt with the explosive and vivid current issues. By watching movies, tv shows, fidgeting on the internet too long or even playing with my dogs, I sort of deprive myself of a much-needed quiet time and reflection time. When I'm overly busy, overly worried, or overly numbed, my mind can't sit still long enough to stay focused on what I'm reading, writing or praying. I need that time of just being that allows me to pursue soul matters more actively simply because I'm better prepared to venture into them.

4. Blogging - I do love to blog. I tend to clash with a lot of people in "real" life, and blogging is my outlet for just being me. It's like prayer in a way- it's just honest. I don't cater to an audience. I just hash out my thoughts in the most explicit way I can communicate them, which I've found to be through text on a screen. I type as I think and I generally don't plan out posts and the ones I do plan out always end up in my drafts, never getting published because I just don't have the passion for them as I do when I'm typing as though I am talking. But when I blog about God things, I am forced to research (which I'll admit, I haven't done much of lately) and I'm forced to really try to think things through, and when I'm done, all of my thoughts are laid out in front of me to reread and understand better. It also captures a moment in my head, which is kind of what some of the Psalms David wrote are like. He'll switch back and forth from doubt to certainty, just like any normal human would, just like I do. These posts, all busted up and cynical, are my psalms. They might not be all cheesy about trumpets and singing praise and all that... They might have more of a "I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm trying," kind of message. And I am. I'm trying to work through all this and I'm doing it out in the open because that's who I am. Basically, it's a way of sorting out the scary parts of God in a realm of my life that I'm very comfortable in, and that encourages me.

5. Traffic - It's true. Sitting in traffic all those hours when I was working gave me time to think, to pray and to listen to endless sermons. Without that commute, I'm not sure I'd have a foundation laid down as strongly as the one I have (or that I believe I have). I love me some traffic. Flowing rivers of brake lights that suspend time, obligation and control.

6. Migraine-free days - I had a migraine for two years straight until very recently and I am so grateful for these days when I wake up and don't feel like I've been punched in the face repeatedly while I was sleeping. It's a distraction that creates crazy amounts of self-pity, self-loathing and pain and without my migraine, I've got a lot more free time and energy. And truth be told, it stirs up affection and gratitude because I prayed for it.

7. Reading blogs, books and even tweets by pastors and listening to sermons - not the dry writings though, but the ones where their heart is exposed. I think the best pastors are the ones who humanize the Bible by making it relatable, by allowing us to watch it in action through them and by hearing it passionately from their mouths. It's like listening to somebody read poetry to somebody they adore. Their genuine love and adoration for God stirs up my love for God and inspires me. I think I'm a fairly empathetic person and by feeling that affection through somebody who is passionate, I can be opened to new avenues of affection within myself.

Man, I could go on and on- folk music, my beautiful doggies (past and present) and their unconditional love, Christmas... I'll just skip to the next question before it's suddenly 4AM. :D

I also wrestled with and paid attention to what robbed me of affection for Christ. What, when I was doing it or spending time around it created in me an unhealthy love for this world? [He listed six for this one.]

1. I want to start with church. While it doesn't create an unhealthy love for this world, it does rob me of affection for Christ. Religion, obligation, serving in a capacity outside of that which I am comfortable, feeling the constant pull between legalism and not obeying- a lot of the time, after going to church, I'll go for waffles with my brother and sister-in-law and the first thing out of my mouth will be, "Man, I suck at church." I end up feeling so discouraged and out of place that if that is what it takes to be a "real" Christian, then I just am not a "real" Christian. I get into this cycle of negotiation, teetering towards giving up. Pastors I listen to online are all, "Just Jesus," but in reality, it's never "just Jesus." It's always, "If you have an affection for Jesus, you need to show it by serving in and being a member of a church." And if you put up a fight, tell people a bit of your past so that they might understand why this is such an issue, they always reply, "Jesus can redeem all that, but you have to be a member of a church." I'm not sure of what God wants for me in particular, maybe He wants my body to be my temple? But either way, your bullying me isn't helping. I was agnostic for 28ish years, and if but by the grace of God am I saved, then thank God, but if God chose me and then will create for me an eternity without Him because I suck at church, so be it. I'm doing the best I can, and that's not good enough, whether I somehow serve or I never find the way to be able to. But by the grace of God am I saved, not by submitting to peer pressure and bullying...

Anyhooooo.

2. Les Boys - I can't do both. I can't actively pursue relationships and be close to God. The way I've been trained by the society around me to pursue relationships is so not godly and the men I attract generally aren't either. And the end result is that I am distracted in a bad way towards bad things and God ends up sort of shut off. I assume that eventually, I'll find a balance that is healthier, but for now, there is nothing healthy or godly about my pursuit.

3. The opposite of #3 above about escapism.

4. Excessive sleep - Again, it doesn't create an unhealthy love for this world, but it does make me crabby and intolerable. I'm ok with sleeping in. If I wake up at noon, that's ok with me. I don't feel as though my day is wasted because the best part of my day is now (i.e. when the world sleeps). But what I can't stand is when I wake up at noon after going to bed early. That's annoying and does waste my day, which is one of the reasons I end up staying up late also. If I stay up late, I don't need as much sleep. If I go to sleep early, I wake up at the same time but have wasted the better part of my night asleep. In the end, this robs me of affection for God because not only am I all irritable and hating everything, but I tend to get it in my head that I have to cram an entire day's worth of stuff in a really short amount of time. The being busy part causes me to lack focus and distances me from anything that draws me closer to God. I am not a busy person. I am quite lazy actually, so when I say I'm being busy, it's not that I'm actually accomplishing things so much as panicking about accomplishing things. It's a circular path to nowhere.

5. My laziness - I don't know how to fix that or even if it's a bad thing, but the societal pressure to constantly produce gets to me often. I'm a ponderer rather than a doer. In my head, the way I am draws me closer to God in being, but not in doing, and it's the doing part that I think I need more of, maybe. I don't know. That's the thing- I never know if I'm supposed to be doing what I'm actually fond of and good at or if I'm supposed to break myself apart to try to fit into the roles I'm not good at. I'm good at explaining and understanding things (or vice versa I guess would make more sense) and I'm good at living it in my own life but I am not a hard worker in the conventional sense. I'm not ambitious and driven. I'm not all, "Oh, there are poor people in the world, I need to help now!" and hop in my car and slave away somewhere. Is that a bad thing? It feels like a terrible thing, but even if I was to hop into my car and go slave away, I know I'd suck at it simply because my heart is not into it. If my heart is into something, I'll put in the time and effort needed and then some. But should I wait for my heart to be into it? Do I let myself get too comfortable in this world full of worldly comforts? I don't know. But that feeling of sort of self-loathing because I believe I'm lazy is not a motivator and does not stir up affection and drive to build God's kingdom.

6. Aimlessness - to be honest, in Matt Chandler's question, he points to an affection for this world over God and Jesus, but aside from my #2 in this section, I don't really have all that much that I would not give up in a heartbeat. I grew up undeserving and unentitled and unloved, really. Even if you took away my dogs, my babies whom I adore and whose love and friendship helps get me through the worst times, I'll be sad, I'll be broken, but all I have is me. I've felt for the longest time like a nomad, without a home, without attachments, without normal drives towards the pleasures of this world. I do like some things, but if you take them away from me, I won't die. Everything I have and/or have access to is a privilege. It's all a gift. My dogs are a gift. We aren't entitled to gifts. They are gifts. But like the laziness above, what this does is create an aimlessness and lostness that leaves me sort of stranded without direction. I don't know if I glorify God better when I'm aimless and have nothing to move toward but better understanding. I don't know if I glorify God more when I am forced to work out a plan based on my smaller passions because the doors to my bigger passions have slammed shut. I just don't know. It affects my affection for God because if God is really in control and this aimlessness is what He wants, then these doors will just keep slamming and after a while, it becomes harder to stay passionate. Constant rejection wears a girl thin after a while, and so I ask for guidance and more doors get slammed shut, but none open in consequence. Do you really want me to be this aimless, God? Or is there no God at all, rather a string of mediocre luck mixed with self-fulfilling prophesy? Aimlessness does take a toll.

But hey, among all this aimlessness, laziness, lustiness and church rejection, God still is providing for me. I am so grateful for everything I have been given, including faith and a passion for learning, for prayer and for God.

p.s. I'll post this now and edit it tomorrow when I have eyes again. :D

How many?

2009-12-01T00:52:00.003-05:00

I don't have a lot of outspoken ideas lately (not any that are publicly blogworthy anyway... :D), but I stumbled upon a blog post about this verse from Mark ch 14:

24 And he said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.”

And the blog author was thankful for the sacrifice, as is the usual response from Christians to this passage, I guess.

But my response?

Many? Why many? Why not all?

On Atheism, hopelessness and hope...

2009-11-16T20:03:00.006-05:00

I am really crabby tonight. Not for any particular reason, and definitely not for any good reason. Just crabby.

And so I saw Mark Driscoll (or his assistant?) posted this link on facebook:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jv3TFg9SJb4

It's a video explaining the "hope of life" of atheists. Basically, he quotes an atheist as saying the foundation for life is "unyielding despair". From an atheist's point of view, there is no God, there is nothing after this life, there is no meaning to this life, there is nothing but nature and survival of the fittest. He goes on to say that that ideology is utterly depressing and that is why so many teenagers are cutters, why people commit suicide, why the highest selling group of drugs is anti-depressants.

But if the majority of Americans classify themselves as Christian in some way (right?) then who is buying all these anti-depressants? Is Driscoll implying that if we know the gospel we can't get depressed?

In theory, that's true, because we should rely on God and be satisfied in God, etc etc, but in reality, the first humans in the Bible failed miserably at that. What makes us better? What makes us more able to love God in such a whole way when we are surrounded by way more stuff than Adam and Eve were. They just had a snake. We've got explicit sex everywhere, ostentatious entertainment, endless material lures and so on and so on. Our world is just as broken as its always been and humans have been failing at being satisfied in God enough to let the glitz of this world go since the "always" of humanity began.

So yeah, even Christians end up in the hopeless clutches of depression. *shrug* It's not just an atheist thing.

But I digress...

Driscoll (or his assistant) captioned the video on facebook as, "A Video for Dawkins".

My reply was this:
I can kinda predict the response of the atheists I know though... "Of course the world is a darker place when you discover that Santa Claus isn't real, that your dad isn't perfect and that you really are all alone, but just because they're hard truths to accept doesn't make any of them any less true."

So how will that video bring atheists any closer to Jesus? I just don't see it.

Maybe it's my crabbiness or maybe I feel this way on a regular day, but it seems like Christians believe that hardcore atheists will just "click" one day and love Jesus. Like, they'll press play on this Driscoll video because some Bible-thumpy Christian acquaintance will trick them into thinking it's about Dawkins, and they'll endure the seven minutes of it and at the end, when the video carousel shows up, they'll be all looking up at the heavens crying, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

Yeah, that's not gonna happen. And if it does, if you know somebody to which that has happened, it's likely that deep down they believed anyway.

Why am I so cynical about this? Because as Driscoll points out, it IS a depressing doctrine. It is hopeless. Really. And when you adopt that hopelessness as your fundamental truth of the universe, the implications are that you are so cynical about God and religion that you cannot be moved by "inside" words or by "inside" thoughts. By inside, I mean stuff that stems from Christian religiosity- the terminology.

If you tell an atheist they are hopeless, what does that mean? That this life is meaningless and they'll die and that'll be it? Well... yeah... They know that already.

If you tell an atheist the only way they'll be saved is through our savior Jesus Christ, what does that mean to them? It means the only way to go through life with permanent rose-colored glasses on is if you adopt a delusion of being loved by an imaginary friend. It's meaningless.

In my experience, everything Christian is meaningless to an atheist except Jesus Himself. You can't preach hope or salvation or sanctification or hellfire. None of that means a thing. And if you preach repentance? Well, now you're just a self-righteous religious person that they've already encountered time and time again. It's not going to work.

But the soul things do work. The things we all feel. Like when a relationship ends. Up here, it's likely that that relationship involved sex. And so, talking about what God intends for sex in those moments, how sex is a way of bonding the souls of two people, in order to explain why it hurts so much when those souls rip apart, hits the soul a little bit. Why? Because it's true and because that particular kind of pain is really a soul pain rather than a superficial, every day life kind of pain. We feel it. We know it's something deeper than other hurts we experience. Why do we call it a broken heart? Why do we imply even trivially that we're shattered in our core? And from a Christian standpoint, that is one of the reasons why God wants us to wait. He doesn't want us to feel this soul-rippage. He wants to protect us from that.

Another thing that gets in is forgiveness. Active, open forgiveness. Letting go of grudges. Seeing past the brokenness and the hurt and loving them anyway. It's something that Jesus taught and it's something that goes completely against our basic human instincts. But in our hearts, we long for the ability to let go. We long for the ability to understand that love is more important than anything else. We long for it not because we do it but because we wish for others to embrace it towards us. We wish to be forgiven. We wished to be loved unconditionally and eternally.

Love. It gets in too. Active loving. Sacrifice and enduring profound friendship.

Being humble. Passing off the glory, letting go of selfishness, lifting those around you up- that gets in.

Justice does too. Fighting for those who need us to fight for them. Fighting for the basic needs and rights of individuals.

Caring.

Loving those who are hardest to love. Loving your enemy.

Honesty- being a prideful person takes any mission out of you. Be honest about who you are and what your stumblings are. Be honest about your failures. Be honest. You're not perfect. You're probably farther from perfect than the person you're evangelizing. Never forget that. You might think you're saved, but sanctification is a lifelong process.

And most of all, practicing more than preaching. What good is God's word coming out of your mouth if you don't know what it means? What good is it if you don't live it? What good is it if you don't know it well enough to explain it to somebody who isn't a Christian? What good is it if the only way you know how to explain it is in Bibley terms?

Teach it from the heart. Live it from the heart. And love with it. That is the hope we're trying to get people to understand and that, to me, is the only way to get an atheist's attention. Don't just say the words. If Jesus is in your heart, show them your heart.

Otherwise, it's all just hopeless.

And not to let the atheists off the hook here (even though if there are any reading this post, they'd probably have quit by now, right?), in my comment on Driscoll's wall, I mentioned Santa, imperfect dads and being utterly alone. And when I didn't know God, I did seem to base my ideology on the worst case scenario.

The world is a hard place. Survival of the fittest is brutal. The only person who will ever truly look out for you is you. When you look at ideas like those, which are sort of true really, it makes sense that we're only here by chance and that there's no deeper underlying meaning to all this.

But why do we choose those things on which to base our philosophies?

Why not look at opposite things?

Survival of the fittest might be brutal and unforgiving, but look at what it has produced. Look at the awesomeness of survival. Look at the miraculous adaptations creatures around us have developed to edge out the competition, to protect themselves and even to procreate. It's incredible and so precise.

The only person who will ever truly look out for you is you, but you know those rare times when a friend completely blows you away with kindness? They just show up out of nowhere and just leave you in awe. They might not have even appeared to care about you and then suddenly, there they were, helping you up when nobody else even knew you were down or nobody else knew how you needed to be picked up. It brings tears to your eyes to remember it.

The world is such a hard place- natural disasters, suffering, brokenness, poverty, loneliness... But what about beauty? What about love? Why do we have these powerful things to give us a glimmer of hope? Why do we keep going? Something here has to be worth it. The world is a hard place, but somehow, we were born with an attachment to it anyway.

And that dad who isn't perfect? It took you how many years to figure that out? Is there anybody in your life who has sustained perfection as long as that?

My dad kills bees with his bare thumb. Just his thumb. That's just crazy. But that's why he's my dad: it's not because he does these things to protect me and to make my world less scary, it's because I look to him for that. I want him to be that. I want him to play that role in my life. But like all dads, he eventually failed. I started to see his humanity and his mistakes. But when he's here at my house and he kills a bee with his thumb, that feeling in me is revived, even if only for a brief moment. That's God. That feeling.

Let me explain... There are these things we feel innately that there is no reason we should feel if our existence was merely based on survival of the fittest. There's no reason these things help us survive. Like this desire to feel protected. If we're the only ones who can protect ourselves, how does this innate craving of reliance help us survive? And love? If it was just about procreation, we wouldn't fall in love. We'd mate and move on. And beauty? Doesn't it distract us and make us vulnerable to predation or injury? And the example I mentioned above about the hurt we experience in a break up. Lying fetal on your sofa in your pajamas for months because somebody decided they didn't love you is definitely counterproductive to our survival. And yet, we feel it. We feel our soul torn apart. And if there is no God and no eternity, what benefit does it serve to be aware of our soul at all?

There are these things, these heart things, that deep down, no matter how much we stifle them, just don't fit. And as an agnostic, I was fine not knowing the answers. But then stuff started to make sense. And if there's anything a rational person craves, it's to make sense of stuff.

So make sense of it. Or at least try. *shrug*

Religulous: a play by play...

2009-11-11T02:46:00.000-05:00

Alright, so I'm watching Religulous. Being that my tv screen is my computer screen, I won't see what I type as I watch this movie... Unless it sucks, then we'll resort to the picture in picture dealy. Yey technology!

Ok, here we go.

FYI, lotsa spoilers. I go through the whole movie as I watched it. Ok? Ok.

And DISCLAIMER: the opinions expressed in this here blog are mine and only mine. If anybody should have a problem with the quotes and or content in this blog post from a copyright/legal standpoint, feel free to let me know. I have no ads on my blog and I have, like, three readers, so this isn't being massively distributed or anything. It's just for fun. I've tried to get the quotes right wherever there are quotes and where there aren't quotes, assume paraphrasing. No animals were harmed in the typing of this blog post.

*presses play*

Is it wrong that I'm already looking at all these producers and sponsors and wondering if I should ever support them again? Yeah, unbiased, my ass. Sorry already.

He starts out about self-fulfilling prophesy and the end of the world as described by religion. And you know the first thing to come to mind is always nuclear weapons, but they won't destroy the world. They'll destroy the cities and human infrastructures, maybe. They might kill the animals and destroy life on earth. But we humans don't yet have the ability to actually destroy the world itself. Just sayin'.

He says religion is too easy because it tells you what happens when you die, which would otherwise be something we'd absolutely freak out about. I've already blogged about that. Being agnostic for 28 years, I never was worried about death or where I'd go when I died. Even now, I don't worry about death itself. So my seeking God had nothing to do with that, really, and if anything, believing in heaven and hell is a lot scarier than believing it just ends.

He set out to make this "documentary" to "understand" why people who are otherwise rational can believe on Sunday that they're drinking the blood of a 2000 year old God. (The quotes are mine, not his. I'm not sure he set out to understand, nor set out to make an attempt at an unbiased documentary... if that's at all possible. If he did set out to do both, at some point in the "documentary" he would have explained that the blood was symbolic. It's not real blood. Nobody's that moronic. We all know what blood tastes like...)

I used to really like Bill Maher when he had his political late night show back in the 90s. I thought he was smart, really good at arguing and had a lot of knowledge. Somewhere between there and now, he decided that his knowledge was God. Of course, that's my opinion and it is probably wrong. But like Tim Keller says, sometimes, when people are successful in one endeavor of their life, they let that sort of arrogance of accomplishment permeate throughout the rest of their life, making them feel successful and all-knowing in all aspects, not just the one. Bill Maher, having mastered the art of negotiation and rationalization, seems to believe he can rationalize away God. But you know, from the perspective of somebody who had done that as far back as I can remember, rationalizing something away doesn't make it stop existing, nor does it actually constitute exploration of it. To go into learning when you already know all the answers sets you up for failure in learning and success in maintaining your current point of view.

But I digress...

He gives us a little history. He grew up in a churchy family, but his mom didn't go to church (she was Jewish, dad was Catholic).
Religion wasn't relevant to his life.
Superman was and baseball was. (Gives you an idea of the gospel message vs religious message effect...)
Quit church at 13.
Mom says it was because of the church's opinion on birth control.

Maher: What do we believe?
his mom: I don't know the answer.
Maher: That's my answer.

So he's agnostic.

Virgin birth story came only from two gospels and the bible was written by men. That's a reason to doubt its truth. The way I've learned it, the gospels do differ, they were written at different times by different points of view and they don't cover identical aspects of Jesus' life. The fact that they are flawed because they were written by men though clashes with the idea that God guided the men in their writing. In a way, I believe God did guide them because the writing is way too complex (imo) to have been written by people of their education level. Then again, they might have had ghost writers- who knows? Either way, the fact that some details aren't in one gospel or another, to me, is not a reason the entire gospel is debunked.

"Why is faith good?" he asks. It's not about it being good. We all do have faith in something. We do. It's undeniable simply because we don't have the answers to everything and not only that, but the things to which we feel we do know the answers to rely on faith a lot too. We trust the information that is given to us is true. We have faith that gravity will be the same tomorrow as it is today. Why would it be? Because it's a constant? Why is it a constant? Because it relies on other constants? Everything is just so and our survival depends on it staying that way. We wake up every morning with faith that the sun will not burn out, with faith that we have enough knowledge about the consistency of the sun that we can predict when it will burn out. Right? We do have faith. In a lot of things. We just don't realize it apart from religion.

"If you're being good just to save your ass..." he says to the room full of churchy men. If that's the only reason they're doing it, you're right- that's religion, not the gospel.

He says he's promoting doubt. The other guys are promoting certainty. He's a proponent of agnosticism. A preacher of agnosticism, if you will...

But does doubt include doubting your doubts? Or is it just limited by the first level of doubt?

Being without faith is a luxury, he says. How can smart people believe? If we were in trouble, we'd have to rely on faith, but because he in particular is not, he has the luxury of being faithless. Luxury. Interesting phrasing.

"Thank you for being Christ-like and not just Christian," he says to the church folk in that tiny church. What he means, I'll infer, is "thank you for being gospel-centered and Jesus-centered rather than religious." Instead, he says something like, "thank you for being like Christ and not a follower of his teachings." It just goes to show how tarnished the "Christian" title is. So, so tarnished. And yet, Jesus... isn't.

Corruption in the church- obviously, there is disgusting corruption in multiple disgusting ways. All I have to say about that is when you create an environment of trust, somebody will always be in line to take advantage. Always.

"What does it say about religion when you can be a minister at ten [years old]?"
In theory, the Bible says little kids can be saved, and being that they can know the gospel, they probably could share it. But kids are not leaders. They need leadership. They need fierce guidance. What does it say about religion? Honestly, whoever ordained that kid needs a headcheck. That really is religion in the worst sense of the word, imo.

"I think I could find more morality in the Rick James Bible."
Yes, the Bible's got some bad people in it and some pretty gory and twisted stories. But Mr Bill Maher (you're not a doctor either, are you? Just checkin'. I don't want to be disrespectful...), Christianity is following Jesus. Try that first. Live by the "red letters" and see how that goes for you. Just for fun. And then once you nail those, explore the rest.

And now we're onto the gay thing.

No, the Bible doesn't say there's no gay gene. *shakes head*

"reformed" gay guy: They're people who are really not complete in who they are as men or women.
Bill Maher: That's quite a judgment as a Christian.
rgg: It's not a judgment.

Well, yes, it is, and it's not a judgment just as a Christian, but as a busted up, broken human being. Black kettles and pots and such.

Ch 4:
What the hey are they laughing about? I dunno. Inside joke? On both sides? Dunno.

Ch 5:
When he got broken up with as a teenager or something, he sought out some sort of "imaginary" friend out of desperation. He considers that seeking God, I guess.

One old guy tells lame-ass stories about his version of miracles (it rained?) that were answers his prayers-- the thing is, God shows you Himself in a way where you will see Him if you ask to see Him. If I tell you my stories of how I saw God or what I saw God through, you'd find them lame also. They are lame. But they touched me, just like how my favorite movies touched me and are ridiculous to other people. Like the movie "17 Again". I consider myself smart, and I can in no way rationalize why I adore that movie the way I do. It's a ridiculous and predictable movie, but somehow, the feeling it gives me changes me and brings back a childish idealism into my life right now. Other people who've watched it get a twinge of something nearly insignificant, but it moves me. It makes no sense, but then that's what emotions are- they're provoked, they're evoked, they're spontaneous reactions. Relationship with God is a personal thing. Nobody can tell you how to do it, what to expect from it or how God will show up in your life. It's something you have to explore on your own and if God decides to open your heart, you'll probably find Him through something lame and cheesy that nobody else understands but that moves you tremendously and profoundly. It's just how it goes.

But yeah, that old guy was a bit of a doof. I'll give Bill Maher that. Even though he probably wouldn't have made it into the documentary had he not been a doof.

If after death, we go to a better place, why don't we just kill ourselves? he asks.
Aside from the fact that that's kind of "playing God" and that it is totally not Christian because it brings suffering to those we love meaninglessly, because it goes against Jesus' message of preaching the gospel to the world and because it's a completely selfish act... Um... What was the question?

Now, we're onto God and state.
Personally, I am of the opinion that when Jesus said give to Caesar what is his, he separated church and state. He didn't come in to radically change the government as everybody had expected. He came to radically change hearts and those hearts in turn change the world. Not with hate, but with love. So chances are, I'll probably agree with Bill Maher on this section of the movie...

"That is not a message I can ever see that Jesus in the Bible, even when he was in a bad mood, would say."
Exactly, Bill Maher! What Jesus says and intends and what "Christians" do are not the same message. They should be, but they aren't. By looking to Christians to decide whether Jesus is worthwhile, you're looking at a busted up review of an image of Jesus through their warped eyes and twisted perspective. Not a good way to learn something important, I'd say.

16% of the population has no religious affiliation and compared to other minority groups which are smaller in size, get nothing.
What are they supposed to get? As an agnostic, I never expected anything. I didn't care. Call it Christmas, call it Hanukkah, whatever you want to call it, go for it. Part of my responsibility in maintaining my own religious freedom is to grant others theirs.

How about we take mother's day instead since that's a touchy subject for me? Every commercial on tv around mother's day implies that everybody has a mom who loves them dearly. It's a load of crap and it makes me want to throw things at my tv. *shrug* I get offended by the implication that everybody has a mom who loves them dearly. But so what? Some people have a mom, some people don't. It's just not my holiday. Same with single people on Valentine's day. In my case and in the Valentine's case, it draws attention to something we're lacking. When I was agnostic, I wasn't lacking anything. Maybe that's why I was ok with Christmas, Easter, Hanukkah and Passover. Forgive me if I don't know the words for holidays outside Christianity and Judaism. They're what I grew up with. "Festivus for the rest of us." hehe.

What about the ten commandments? First four are about God and his jealousy.
Don't include child abuse, torture, rape.
We're in a different culture.
[All that isn't in quotes because I'm not sure what the direct quotes were and I'm not going back again. :D]
So basically he's saying the Bible is outdated and the commandments don't cover the real baddies. Technically, I'd say a lot of it is covered by adultery, idolatry and um, murder, but the rest is covered in the NT pretty clearly by the love thy neighbor commandment and the whole "love one another as I have loved you" part... But yeah, point taken.

Then they argue that even without religion, we'd just know that killing is wrong. We don't need religion to tell us that. (I think that was with the senator?)
Actually, in Tim Keller's "The Reason For God", he argues just that- that our sense of justice stems from us being image bearers of God, that we are set apart from animals simply because we do have that innate quality that comes from such a close tie to God, who is just. That idea, as I've blogged about before, goes against the whole survival of the fittest idea of evolution because in protecting the weakest and helping them to survive while potentially putting us at risk is not beneficial to our own survival and yet, we do it because we have this yearning for justice.

He goes on to talk about how the US is the most religious of the industrialized modern nations. (Ch 6 on this DVD.)
"A recent study found that among 32 countries more people in this country doubted evolution than any other country on that list, except I think it was Turkey."
How come Canada wasn't on that list? I paused it twice and couldn't find it. And not to beat a dead horse, but believing in evolution is having faith in evolution and faith that the scientists behind the evidence were truthful and didn't hide anything or alter anything. It's believing in something you didn't and probably can't prove for yourself. Most of us don't have explicit proof of evolution from beginning to end in our own hands. Evolution is still considered a theory. It feels right, yes, and the evidence points to it being right but in the end, it feels right nonetheless.

Anyhoo...

Random Bible-thumpy museum guy basically says the scientists that are saying that evolution happened are sinners going against God's word or whatever and Bill Maher answers, "All these scientists are sinners?" and the guy shrugs and is out of answers. So lame. Probably trick editing, but even if it wasn't, yes, they're sinners. This museum dude is a sinner. You're a sinner. I'm a sinner. The point is we're all sinners. But that's not why the scientists believe in evolution. Facts are facts, right? :D

Ok, so then he has Father George Coyne, PhD from the Vatican Observatory in a full priesty wardrobe talking about how the Bible and modern science occurred in two different eras of history. The Bible contains no science, he says. It's probably the smartest thing so far. He just forgot to say that that doesn't imply the two can't coexist. And that little timeline they put at the bottom of the screen is off a little too. Aristotle, Plato and a few other BC scientists and philosophers did sort through some scientific things in Biblical times. And in my opinion, the Bible does have more science in it than we give it credit for. It's not a science manual, but within texts, there are some things that are scientifically true, information they may or may not have access to at the time of those writings (I haven't researched enough to know specifically other than the bone marrow issue I had with Job a while back).

But of course, he has to intertwine the logical explanations of Father Coyne with the completely illogical ramblings of that guy with the museum where displays mix the humans with dinosaurs. Obviously.

"That's really the Vatican," he says, standing in front of it. "I ought to know. I just got thrown out of it. [..] Apparently, I've been on the Catholic shitlist for a while."
Aren't we all? hehehehe.

hehe...

"Does that look anything like anything Jesus Christ had in mind?" (still about the Vatican)
He talks to Father Reginald Foster, Senior Vatican Priest, and he agrees that the Vatican doesn't match Jesus' message at all. He's obviously not a religious priest, pointing out how Italians were surveyed about who they pray to when they have problems and Jesus was number six on the list. "Talk about your cafeteria Catholics," he says. Who knows what he really believes, but he did engage Bill Maher, which is more than any other representative so far (aside from Father Coyne, I guess).

Eek! Ben Folds! Oh, bad memory music. Why, Bill, why?! Yeah, so it's fitting, but still! Bad memories. Kind of funny that the Ben Folds song Jesusland reminds me of a time when I got trampled by a nominal, evil "Christian". Go figure.

Time for the Jesus funland part or whatever that theme park is. I don't know how people can dress up as Jesus and be ok with that. I'd be so afraid of my every move.

Why doesn't God obliterate the Devil and evil? Maher asks the fake Jesus.
Good question. Christians like to make up a lot of answers for that one. I haven't really liked any of them enough to stick with me so far (the answers, I mean, not the Christians who make them up).

Bill: What was the Holocaust? Why was that good?
Jesus actor: God has a plan for that. Maybe it's to-
Bill: I wonder if you'd feel that way if you were one of the people being pushed into an oven.
JA: It's like explaining to an ant how a tv works. God's ways are so much higher than ours.

If God is good and the Holocaust was obviously inexplicably, disgustingly evil, why would we assume that that's God's work? What if we do have responsibility for ourselves and our actions in this world? What if our evil, our selfishness, our greed and so on and so on are not Godly? What if our wars that we wage against ourselves, whether we claim them to be in God's name or not, are our wars and only our wars? What if, like a kid who has to learn things the hard way, we learn things the hard way on a proportionately massive scale of brutality? Evil done in the name of God is still evil and if God is not evil, it (evil) is not God, it's not about God and it's not for God.

Maher totally makes fun of the Jesus actor guy for relating the Trinity to water, as in water can have three forms- water, ice and steam. I think that bit got to him a little. You can see it in his face as the pretend Jesus is explaining it. It's kinda funny. He's so awkward and obviously blown away by the explanation. So of course, he has to totally bash it in the car afterward. :D He did say it was brilliant though right before bashing it, you know, to keep himself seemingly humble. It was fun to see the actor Jesus say something so worthwhile that didn't get edited out though. I wonder why it didn't.

We're then presented with the story of Horus from the Book of the Dead written in 1280BC, whose life is identical to Jesus', right down to the resurrection on the third day. Of course, I didn't know that story (hey, newbie... I'm still learning here...) so I looked it up and found this bright yellow thingy. Dunno if it's accurate or not, but it does have a link at the bottom to the Book of the Dead. But I'll read it more later. This movie is taking way longer to watch than I intended. :D

Yeah, so the tourist people taking pics of the bloody Jesus is a little weird.

Cut to crazy folks, including dressed up scientologist, Bill Maher. :D

Now onto Mormons. Um... No comment on that. Hoooo.

Gotta get me some of them protective undies... Um.

Neurotheologist guy Dr Newberg says when we pray, meditate or speak in tongues (wtf), there are specific changes that occur in the brain. And then they show a crazy lady and that farting preacher (youtube) guy (who, I'm sorry, needs a fierce beating).

Rabbi guy who is anti-Zion totally takes over the conversation. Very pushy. Maher leaves. I wonder if he'll interview a real, normal Jew later [not really].

Rabbi Strauss explains Sabbath.
Bill: It does seem that you are, to a degree, trying to outsmart God.
Rabbi: If the lawmaker never makes a mistake and still there's a loophole there, why is that loophole there? To be used in a situation of need.
subtitle: Because the people who wrote the Bible fucked up?
hehe, that's so not Christian as far as I know. :D Not the swearing, I mean how squeezing through loopholes is a heart issue if I ever heard one. :D

Back to the neurotheologist to say anybody who has heard the voice of God is crazy- if people who hear voices are crazy.

Oh, no, bring on the crazy evangelists... I hope Matt Chandler doesn't watch this part. Chapter 12 on the DVD. Don't watch it, Chandler!

The guy says he's Jesus. And doesn't believe in hell or sin. Oh, dear. That guy's gonna get some wrath... Look out!

Maher asks why God, all-powerful God, chooses one person to convey His message rather than just telling everybody. Dunno. Good question. Probably because of the whole seeking thing. Kinda like how when a good-looking person adores you suddenly, you question their sanity. We like the hunt. We like to believe we're in control and act independently.

He goes on to say he wasn't born skeptical and that he used to make deals with God all the time and was glad he had "God" in his life. (His finger quotes not mine.) Um. Is that belief in God? Or is that wishful thinking? "If you give me this, I'll believe in you." It's our way of controlling God and surprisingly, it doesn't work. Go figure.

Reverend Ferre van Beveren of the cannibis ministry says his ministry is not based on weed but uses weed to open up the spirit or something?

Onto a filmmaker who was assassinated for making a film which was considered offensive by Muslims. And a rapper-type guy who seems to be a bit of a know-it-all which clashes, obviously, with know-it-all Bill Maher...

Then Geert Wilders, Dutch parliament member, discusses Muslims... Um. Scary dude. You know those guys who think they're right, but are really bigots? That.

And then onto the two gay Muslim guys, who Bill makes awkward and uncomfortable in about thirty seconds (he brings up anal, like, right away).

Back to the weed guy for a joke...

Not sure what the fast jumping around is about. I guess his beef is more with Christianity and free speech than Islam? He can't seem to focus in this slicey part of the movie.

Now he's wearing a white hat in a mosque in Amsterdam, asking about the violence in Islam.

Back to the weed guy for more laughs.

And then onto the mosque built on top of Solomon's temple (I think?) where Jews are forbidden entry. That part was actually interesting. A little history and culture clashing that I didn't know about.

He makes an analogy relating religion to how the English maintain a sort of crop circle of a naked dude on a hill even though they don't know what it means and then jumps back to Christians talking about the end of the world. He believes that religion's prophesies about the end of the world might ultimately cause the end of the world.

His ending thoughts:

"Religion must die in order for people to live."

"Faith means making a virtue out of not thinking. It's nothing to brag about. And those who preach faith and enable and elevate it are our intellectual slaveholders keeping mankind in a bondage to fantasy and nonsense that has spawned and justified so much lunacy and destruction. Religion is dangerous because it allows humans who don't have all the answers to think that they do.
[...]
The only appropriate attitude for man to have about the big questions is not the arrogant certitude that is the hallmark of religion but doubt. Doubt is humble and that's what man needs to be considering that human history is a litany of getting shit dead wrong.
[...]
This is why rationalist people, anti-religionists, must end their timidity and come out of the closet and assert themselves."

Ok. First, Bill Maher has to read Tim Keller's writings on faith, because imo, he's asking us to have faith in doubt instead of religion. Faith is faith. Faith answers our questions about the unknown, he says, which is what makes it easy. But saying, "I'm ok with not knowing the answers," is an equally faith-based assertion that also is a conclusion about the unknown. It may not seem that way, but as an agnostic, I felt far, far more certain about the world than I do now as a Christian. Things were more certain because I made them so. I was far more in control of my life, my destiny and everything else could be explained away by nature's chaos, by life being unfair, or by life itself.

When you're agnostic, people get cancer because that's just how life is. Our DNA messes up somehow, either because of our lifestyle, chemical exposure, radiation exposure, etc, and we grow tumors instead of "natural" human flesh. As an agnostic, I did not believe that we grew tumors to show us something about ourselves, about the world, about faith and about love. Tumors were just glitches in biological processes. Nothing more.

As an agnostic, the world was here for my viewing pleasure. Mountains towering above me, the ocean crashing at my feet, the stars flickering all around me- all of it was just kind of accidental and beautiful. It was nature. It was part of this chaotic universe we live in. Chaotic in spite of its necessary constants all lining up to allow life to form. It wasn't meant to stir up a feeling of eternity in my soul. It wasn't meant to ignite a passion and deep desire for the eternal and infinite. It wasn't meant to point out the place deep inside me where the innate sense of purpose and meaning lay trapped in a shroud of cynicism and independence.

Agnosticism, as I've said before in the blog, was far, far easier than Christianity.

And I think Bill Maher's little eternal place deep in his soul knows that. While he mocked the virgin birth, how His teen years weren't recorded and maybe a little of the walking on water, he didn't mock Jesus' teachings. If anything, he mocked religions abuse and lack of Christianity. He put down Christianity often for not following Jesus, but he never, as far as I saw, took a jab at Jesus Himself. It makes me wonder what would happen if Bill Maher sat down with a gospel-centered, anti-religion Christian, like, say, Matt Chandler or Tim Keller or Tyler Jones. It makes me wonder if he, like me, was exposed to the "Just Jesus" type of faith, what would happen?

Jesus has a radical way of moving through people's lives no matter how atheist or agnostic they are. As Tyler Jones used to say, Jesus is other. He's different in ways you can't even describe. And somehow, I really think that deep down, Bill Maher knows that, but isn't brave enough to explore it. Imagine if he found Jesus at this point?

He'd be, like, the next Paul. It'd totally ruin his life...

(For the better...)

Being at home in Sehnsucht...

2009-11-05T03:28:00.001-05:00

When we were young, we lived in the mountains and had no neighbors across the street. It was just a swamp that led to a forested hill. Every year at Christmas, we'd grab a saw and head up into the woods across the street and cut down the biggest tree we could find. Totally barbaric in hindsight, but being that we were little, the biggest one was probably not all that big... Well, except the time we needed a sixteen foot ladder to put the star on top...

But I digress.

Christmases were always filled with anticipation. We always got crap gifts and had a crap time, but every year, it was the same: we expected a "Griswold Family Christmas", even though, not only was our family way too bitter, judgmental and greedy to ever actually be a postcard family, but the postcard we were wishing for was equally dysfunctional.

Anyway, that feeling we anticipated that never came was home. Our family was such a mess and somehow, I guess the three of us just expected everything to stop for that one day so we could just be that kind of family that sits beside the fire and eats Christmas desserts and laughs about memories. Instead, it would end up in fearful slavery, trying to put our best fake family face on in hopes we wouldn't set off my dad's temper later. Instead of having the family Christmas, we had to work like crazy to give off the illusion of having one.

But every year, as Christmas got closer, my brothers and I would find ourselves hoping for the same thing again.

And no, Christmas wasn't about Jesus. We didn't believe in God, so Christmas was just about this one thing, this feeling of home thing.

Page 92 of Tim Keller's "The Prodigal God" describes exactly that:

The memory of home seems to be evoked by certain sights, sounds and even smells. But they can only arouse a desire they can't fulfill. Many of the people in my church have shared with me how disappointing Christmas and Thanksgiving are to them. They prepare for holidays hoping that, finally, this year, the gathering of family at that important place will deliver the experience of warmth, joy, comfort, and love that they want from it. But these events almost always fail, crushed under the weight of our impossible expectations.

There is a German word that gets at this concept- the word Sehnsucht. Dictionaries will tell you that there is no simple English synonym. It denotes profound homesickness or longing, but with transcendent overtones.

(I hope I don't get into trouble for such a long quote... You should read the book. It's little and full of awesome, so there's no excuse not to... Just sayin'.)

He goes on to quote C.S. Lewis who says that this homesickness is "no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real situation."

Tim Keller then asks, "Why would 'home' be so powerful and yet so elusive for us?"

Biblically, our home was the Garden of Eden. We were meant to be home with God. We were meant to live with Him. But we chose independence over God and somehow find ourselves coincidentally with this constant longing for home.

You grow up in a house and sometimes you get whiffs of home but as you grow older and experience the world more, the strongest memories of home can never be met in the present. You can go back to that childhood dwelling, but somehow, it's different. Somehow, it really doesn't live up to your expectations.

The town I grew up in was a resort town, and within five years of us moving out of there and into the city, the town boomed. Three shopping malls sprouted and endless condo developments scattered the once forested landscape. A few years ago, I brought my ex there to show him where I grew up and after taking the road I'd biked my entire childhood, everything had become so different that I thought I'd taken a wrong turn. Housing developments were everywhere. When I was young, there were a few houses here and there, and the rest of the road was lined with trees, but this road was the opposite. I felt like I had never been there before.

The house my parents built is now a different color. They replaced the wooden exterior with vinyl siding. They rearranged the landscaping that my dad had done by hand. To flatten out the lawn, he used to make us sit on a metal ladder and drag the ladder across the lawn like a workhorse. It was the best ride ever. :D Now, it's a massive, paved driveway.

But no matter how clear the memories are, that home is unattainable. And in the moment, those moments I now look upon with a nostalgic feeling of home, it wasn't actually there either.

Every time I went to Banff, it was the closest I'd ever come to feeling at home in the present. The moon bluing the snow on the mountains. The overwhelming wildlife. The turquoise lakes. Nature at its most awesome. That felt like home to me.

Why is that home and the place where I grew up not?

If Tim Keller and C.S. Lewis are right, and God is our home, then it makes sense that wherever we're closest to the infinite and closest to real unconditional love and closest to a united soul, we will be closest to home. In the awe of nature, the love of family and the bonding that we expect to occur at Christmas, we are as close to home as we can get here on earth. But we just can't get there entirely.

I find it funny that after all these years of feeling this longing of home at Christmas, never once did it occur to me that maybe there was a deeper reason for it. Maybe our soul feels something around Christmas time that we feel the need to explain away in human terms. Maybe our soul knows something we don't. Maybe our soul is trying to say something.

And maybe if we start to listen, we might feel closer to home a little more often.

On God and Sex...

2009-10-31T02:41:00.002-04:00

I finally got to listen to the entire talk Matt Chandler gave at The Village called, "God and Sex" as part of their Culture and Theology series. At about 1:34:29 according to my ipod (which is probably the wrong time because it changes every time I hit pause...), he answers a question from somebody asking if they're wrong for thinking they don't deserve a virgin to marry if they've already had sex. First, Chandler goes on about how "deserve" is irrelevant because we don't deserve anything but God is infinitely gracious and beautiful and gives to all freely and then he goes on to say:

Please don't punish yourself where Christ has not punished you. Why would you do that? Why would you go, "Oh, she's a virgin I can't"- no. No. All things new. That guy is dead, he was nailed to the cross of Jesus Christ. All things are new. All things are new. Yes, you're wrong. You're wrong. There's grace for you.

That answer hit me hard for a few reasons.

First, there's this idea in the back of my head that since I've already had sex, since I've already basically lived the life of a married person only without the commitment, since I've already joined souls with people who are not my husband, the damage has been done and therefore, if I slip up again, it's not such a big deal.

Second, after years of abuse and trauma- even though Matt Chandler took issue with the word "deserve", I'll use it anyway- I feel I don't deserve what God wants for me. I feel I don't deserve the husband who loves me intimately and on a soul level. I feel I am not worth that. I'm not good enough for God's plan for my life. And by "good enough" I don't mean in deeds and whatnot, I mean the [poor] quality of my person. I am not adequate, and therefore, to subject some poor innocent boy to my brokenness for an eternity just seems... well, there's no boy who would subject himself to that much pain and suffering. I am far too broken.

Third, I had pretty well resigned myself to always being the more broken person within any couple in which I might find myself. And I hate that. I hate that I will always have more stories of suffering, of brutality, of pain than anybody I might date. I hate that. I'm using the word hate here about that. I don't want to be that person. I don't want to be the one that makes people say, "I feel bad because all that stuff happened to you and I had it easy." I don't want to be that person, especially not to the person I marry, if I ever do get married. And the fact that I will always end up that person means I just can't get married.

Fourth, being that I live up here in Atheistland, what are the odds that I will find somebody godly and gospel-driven to date, let alone marry? I think I know one Christian guy and he's in a passionate relationship. And even he denies his Christianity when confronted. He's a youth pastor, who was heading up a music program for a church, but when asked, he tells people he leads this music youth group. He takes the Jesus totally out of it to make it politically correct. And to our mutual friends, he's the fundy. What are the chances that I will find a real Christian man to marry up here? Like, zero. So all that means is if I wait until I marry, I am not likely to have sex ever again. And that, for a girl who grew up in this culture, where sex is more of a staple than milk, is unfathomable.

But those four things leave out one important point that Matt Chandler nailed in his reply: I have been redeemed.

The brokenness that is my past, the brokenness that is my person, the broken things that have happened to me, are all redeemed.

First, I might have taken for granted what God intended for me with sex, but that doesn't mean it can't be redeemed and I can't experience the intimacy that God set up for me.

Second, I am a child of God. I might not deserve anything at all, but God loves me personally and completely. I am no more nor no less deserving than any other person. I am in need of God's grace and mercy, just like everybody else. But I have value and wholeness as a child of God.

Third, I am not the most broken person in any relationship because I have been redeemed. Nobody, after the lashings and beatings and hanging on the cross and ultimately death, would say Jesus is the most broken in any company. Maybe if He hadn't resurrected, we would have something to argue, but that's not the case. He was made whole again by the righteousness of God. I died and came alive again in Christ when I was baptized and I probably will do so over and over again, every time I need to be redeemed.

And fourth, where is my trust? It's obviously in sex as an idol or if not that, something, anything, other than God. If marriage is what God wants for my life He will open my eyes to it. He will set me up for it and guide me into it. But only if I trust. I have to trust. I have to let go of what I feel will satisfy my soul and trust that what God wants for me is far more than anything I can create for myself. I have to let go of the pleasures of this world, the temporary satisfaction, self-worth and value that sex represents for me and trust that God's intention for it is much greater and better for my soul.

A life with [unmarried] sex is all I've ever known, I tell myself. But a life without God was all I ever knew also and God changed that too.

I've compartmentalized the redemption in my life along with the focus on idolatry. I've acknowledged that Jesus redeemed all the things I'm ok with facing head on, but the things I still look to for value, the things I haven't yet given up and refuse to face, I have not yet allowed Jesus to enter into. And as long as I keep doing that, keep compartmentalizing everything and hiding from the stuff I just can't let go of, I'll keep falling down, keep crushing my own life and I won't let Jesus redeem it all the way only He can redeem it and I won't let Jesus change my heart in the way only He can change it.

I have to trust that being a child of God gives me more value than any sort of false value that flattery, manipulative flirtation, a successful hunt and ultimately sex might bring with its brokenness, superficiality and temporary satisfaction.

Faith without trust makes a mockery of everything Jesus died for. Faith is a privilege. It's a privilege that I don't want to lose because I stubbornly and deliberately choose a path apart from God or because of something so ridiculous as to make sex into a golden calf from which I can't loosen my grip.

I am a child of God. I have to have faith that that's more than enough and all that I need.

On the moment of salvation...

2009-10-28T02:41:00.003-04:00

Ok, so I might get judgmental, make generalizations and make my perceptions seem like facts. *shrug* Just take this as a warning, I guess, because it's nearly 2AM and I don't want to add a politician, please-all finish to this post. I just want to get it out.

I grew up atheist/agnostic, mostly agnostic, surrounded by atheists, proclaiming atheism. When I was a teenager, a cousin of mine got married and sent a card to all the families within our extended family, and all of the other families got "God bless!" at the bottom of their cards and ours had, "Take care!" or something similar. I laughed and said to my dad, "It's so funny how everybody knows we're atheists. Everybody else got 'God bless', but because they know we don't believe in God, they put 'take care' in ours." My dad got kind of sarcastically angry. "We believe in God, you twit! What the hey! You better believe in God!"

Now, ten or so years later, he's the atheist and I'm the theist. Go figure.

Anyway, it was so clear to everybody around us that we didn't believe. It was clear to me that my friends didn't believe, even though I never asked them about it. It's just not something you bring up when you don't believe in it. It's like talking about unicorns. You don't just sit around sipping coffee and blurt out, "Hey, so how does everybody feel about unicorns?" It's just absurd. So were the potential discussions about God.

Granted, back then I didn't realize that I knew just as much, if not more, about unicorns than I did about God...

There's a Catholic tradition here though. French people swear in church. Not in the building, but the language. The more syllables in the word, the more four-lettery it becomes. The tabernacle is far worse than the host. Tabernacle, pronounced tahbarnak here in Quebec even has it's own fudges. There's tabarouette (your wheelbarrow), tabaslack (um.. that one doesn't translate. It's just syllables), and just tab, when you're too lazy to come up with anything more creative. When you have babies, you have to get them baptized in the Catholic church to make your grandparents happy. And if you decide to get married (which very few do here in Quebec), you might get married in a Catholic church, but usually only if the parents are chipping in enough money to fill it.

That was my experience with religion. That was life. Religion was swear words, a stale wafer, some wine followed by jokes about what the priest does with the leftovers, and some traditional, meaningless mumbling on special occasions.

Community was built on common ground- atheism and mockery of religion.

I think of some of the things I've said in the past and I get that reaction, you know? The one where you close your eyes because the humiliation coming from within is just so overwhelming that they close automatically while you try to grasp onto an inhale? You let out this vocal sigh of disappointment and the return to breathing just stalls and shuts your eyes. You open them again, feeling like a total ass, hoping just the expression you have on your face might send waves of remorse through the universe and right the wrongs you've committed ignorantly. That reaction. I get that.

But back then, when I made those comments, I was the norm. I was the open-minded, enlightened norm.

I cracked open the Bible and you know the rest, but I found myself still in this norm. The norm I grew up in, the hurt I caused, the stereotypes of religion that were everywhere, all of it was suddenly on the other side. All of it was suddenly directed at me.

Fine, I'm a strong girl, I can handle it. Right? And then my friends were also on the other side. And my family. And my strength, without God, would never withstand that kind of rejection and disappointment. But I did have God.

After a while, my people came around. Well, most. Ok, some. :D But one by one, they opened the door a little and caught glimpses of me and realized that maybe even with a lot more Jesus, I might still be me. I might even be more me than I was before. So one by one, I got my people back. Or rather, I'm getting my people back.

I think the way in which I found God is instrumental in it though. God chose me. God picked me, beat me into submission and I had very little say in it. Nobody had any say in it. Just God. So it's very hard for me to be a thumper of the Bible when what got me here was not thumping at all. It was just God. So all I do for my people's salvation is answer questions, right misconceptions and pray. And they're generally surprised by my lack of thumpiness and lack of forcefulness and also with my striving to actually learn about it, to read the Bible and to live out what I read, that all that combined leads them into a greater interest for it. I don't have to push at all. I just have to live it and be there.

But the best resources, I've found, tend to be in the Bible belt. The best sermons, the best pastors, the best talks... And so often, I hear stories of salvation and to be honest, a lot of them bug me. I know they shouldn't. I know I should be all, "Yey! You found Jesus!" but part of me gets all squinty, confused and speechless.

The story that baffles me the most goes like this:

I grew up in church and I loved God and I read my Bible and I was a member of the church, but I still did terrible things. I had sex with people I wasn't married to. I abused my body. I didn't live in the Lord. And then one day, I woke up and realized my life was a mess and I turned to God, and that day, I was saved.

Of course, they don't say it like that. They leave out the "loved" part at the beginning. And I sit there thinking that loved is there. It was there all along and even if you did bad things and rebelled against God, it was still there. You just weren't ready to be good yet. You know?

Yes, Jesus redeems. And maybe He redeemed all your sins and changed your sinning ways. Or maybe you're still equally broken today as you were yesterday, but you realized it's a one way ticket to being unfulfilled?

Like a pastor said, and I already quoted in the blog before, "It's not about trying not to sin, but about being satisfied in God." So you get that now. But then push comes to shove and times turn badly for you, and you seek the pleasures of this world to help bandaid your wounds. And then you repent, apologizing to God for not trusting Him and so on and so on.

But my problem is this: If you believe that you can't lose your salvation, and you did love God and believe in Jesus even if you didn't know all about what that meant and even if you didn't feel it in its entirety, what makes you saved now and not way back when? And what makes you think you know what it means now? What makes you think you really understand what it is? What keeps you from proclaiming salvation again later when you get beaten down by God again later, find a clearer understanding of God later and feel even closer to God later?

I guess my point is growing up without God at all was difficult. I didn't know it then, I didn't know what I was missing because I'd never had God, but from this perspective, to have had God when I was enduring the things I had to endure probably would have made them a lot less overwhelming and if I had believed I was a child of God who was to be treated with value, some of the things I endured might not have happened at all. But then I hear these stories where people grew up with God but didn't fully appreciate Him, and it bothers me. Not because of their lack of appreciation in the moment, but because of their lack of appreciation NOW.

I look back at my godless life and there is God ALL over it. All over. There are times when I somehow had strength that I was not capable of. There are times when things could have gone terribly wrong and should have, but didn't. There are times when I was clearly protected and literally saved when I should have died. There are countless times when I stood back up again when any normal person would have just stayed down.

Just the fact that God made me phobic of every possible method of suicide was a gift in itself. It still is.

I had no God growing up, but God had me anyway. God took care of me. I was God's child even when I wasn't seeing Him at all. I was God's child when I was bashing Him and laughing at Him. I was God's child when I was mocking His believing children. I was always God's child.

It is so hard for me to hear these stories where God isn't there because the person in question isn't in control of their belief. They loved God. They knew He existed. They knew He was watching over them. But they didn't reciprocate appropriately and therefore, they must not have been saved yet.

Tell me what that says about the grace and mercy of God?

And now, they're saved, and talking about the Gospel. They're saying how they weren't saved by deeds but by God's grace. So why now? Why now rather than way back when you were not good enough for God? Why now rather than when you were a rebellious, unrepentant sinner?

Because chances are, you'll hit a point in the not-so-distant future where you'll realize that this you, the you of this moment right now who is so sure of your salvation, didn't know God at all. And you'll panic and bow down before Him and repent and apologize and pray for mercy and grace. And you'll tell the arrogant, self-righteous Christians around you that but by the grace of God are you saved. And you'll be humble, and you'll have that reaction I described above where you close your eyes after a deep, vocal sigh of disappointment at your past self and vow never to be so arrogant as to take for granted God's mercy and your salvation again.

And it will happen over and over and over and over as long as you live and love God.

So how do you know when you were saved? How do you know which one of those moments is the one?

How about we let God decide? How about we quit worrying about when it happened and work on what it means?

I went from not believing at all to believing and I can't really tell you when it happened. I know when I finished reading the book of John after the book of Matthew, I had tears in my eyes because John so loved Jesus and that love was a beautiful thing for a beautiful person. I know that that was the first time I really felt an emotional connection to Jesus. But was that empathy for the character of Jesus in a book? Or was that an emotional connection to Jesus Himself? I don't know. All I know is that God decided the path in which I would find Him. And the end result was that I found Him. The end result was that I found a love for Him that was strong enough to endure the harshest criticism and abandonment by nearly all of the people I loved and depended on. I found a love for Him that has endured some of the hardest trials in my life so far.

I found a strong love for Him which six months ago I thought couldn't get stronger and today, blows that love out of the water. I found a love for Him that grows with everything I learn and fires up the passion in me to learn more.

Does it really matter when it happened?

If I say I was saved on such and such a day, to me that adds a control factor in there. It's like saying God and I weren't united because I wasn't ready. But we were. I just didn't see it. Just because I didn't see it, doesn't mean the bond between us wasn't there.

I haven't spoken to my mom in a few years. She doesn't know where I live because that's how I want it. We are separated. But that doesn't mean we aren't still bonded. I can deny it all I want. I can hate her, I can banish her from my life, I can disrespect her, I can rebel against her, but whatever I do can not change the fact that I am her child. She might not love me, she might not love me in the way I need to be loved, or she might love me entirely and I just reject it. Regardless, I am her child. Nothing will ever change that. She might not be a mom, she might not be mother material, she might be neglectful and broken, but she still gave birth to me and there is a bond there. I grew inside of her. Her body sustained me. From her life grew mine.

Jesus reconciles us with God and when we realize the power in that, it's a beautiful thing. But that bond was always there. We are God's children. We broke the relationship, but we are His children. We broke our end, but if God is God, He can do whatever He wants. Even if we're far from Him, He can choose to be close to us. He can be in our lives even if we don't want Him to be or don't acknowledge Him. He is God. He can.

So why have a salvation day? Why have a salvation story around a specific event? Why not wonder if maybe the moment it dawned on us that Jesus is God and we need Jesus was not the actual moment of our salvation? Why not wonder if maybe God had been working for a long time to get us to that point? Why not appreciate the presence of God in our lives before the moment we decided to give up control?

Why not quit feeling so prideful about the moment we felt something and just let God be God?

God is God and only He knows my heart, my future, my soul and the true state of my salvation.

But by the grace of God am I saved.

On innate darkness...

2009-10-22T03:17:00.000-04:00

2:19 and the battery on my craptop is nearly dead, so this has to be short.

Today, I listened to a sermon in which Mark Driscoll said something along the lines of there is no way we can be born good because we're born of corrupt seed. I won't quote it because I haven't checked the wording exactly.

The problem that so many people here, including my former self, have with religion, Catholicism in particular, is that people are evil and sin all the time. It's a problem because we think we're good people. I mean, we're better than that guy over there, right? *points to a guy littering* It's also a problem because we don't think we're sinners either.

What's a sinner? A sinner, to a non-believer (in my experience as one), is somebody who doesn't abide by a strict set of rules, a list of do's and don'ts. All the things we enjoy are on said list, and so religion becomes this thing of deprivation. Its goal is to control people and take away all of their freedoms. The end result is they pretend to be happy because their imaginary friend (Jesus) is "there" for them.

We believe this and then we go out in the world and struggle constantly to retain any shred of faith in humanity until we get home and collapse onto the sofa, defeated. We turn on the tv and watch actors pretend to be good people conquering the bad people, and somehow, we go to bed feeling lighter. The good guy wins in the movies. In real life, maybe not, but as long as we hold onto the hope that the good guy wins, either by manipulating ourselves with delusions or by believing in things like Karma, then we're ok. Then we're not the only person in the world who cares.

But I think deep down, we all know people aren't all that great. We really, really want to believe they are and we have a few of our favorites, but those of us who are more cynical see the betrayal coming. It has to come. Eventually, maybe, but it will come regardless. We always get hurt by those we love. We always get broken by those we sacrifice the most for. We spend our lives rebuilding ourselves after being broken and hurt over and over and over again. We patch up the scars, paint over the memories, pick up our bags and pretend to move on.

What if we really are from corrupt seed? Even if Adam is a metaphor, and the metaphorical Adam ate of the fruit when God told him not to, and by doing so, chose himself over God and alienated himself from God, the metaphor is not all that far fetched. Even if Genesis was written a few thousand years ago or so, we choose ourselves over God every day. We choose independence over submission every minute of every day. We are wired for it. We are wired to only look out for number one, sometimes even if we have a family. We hurt each other because we're too busy protecting ourselves and our own interests to bother to empathize before we act, speak or do. Our first consideration is ourselves, our comfort, our enjoyment, and our benefit. And if you should deviate from this mold, you catch people off guard.

I often ask people how they are doing out completely of the blue. I ask, they answer something generic, like, "I'm doing ok. You?" and if I prod a little more by asking, "Are you happy? How are things these days? Are you really alright?" the reaction turns to defensiveness. "Why do you ask? Did somebody say something?" There has to be some sort of ulterior motive. There has to be a reason other than love itself. We can't just care with no strings attached anymore.

I say "anymore" as though we used to. But we never did. Our idealistic hindsight might make us believe that at some point in our life, caring was the norm. And yet, we never tend to feel that way in the moment, in any moment, as it happens.

What if we are born of corrupt seed? What if we are born bad and have to fight constantly to be good people? What if it's against our nature to be caring, sacrificial and serving?

Honestly, that's the world I live in. I don't know it any other way. One day, for whatever reason, I decided I didn't want to be a terrible person. I decided that there are so many broken and lonely and needy people who are just completely alone and that was just not right. I decided that if people say volunteering makes you feel good, why not live that kind of life? A kind of life wherein when you are needed, you go. The kind of life where when you are asked for help, you do whatever it is, regardless of what it costs you and regardless of the effort, time and energy it requires of you.

And frankly, I've been abused a ton in the process. I've been sucked dry to the point of nearly losing every last ounce of faith in humanity I had left. I've been betrayed so badly simply because I was generous with my love.

But that's human nature, right? Taking what you need and then taking some more just because you can.

Yes, I'm about as cynical as it gets. But you know, there was a study done fairly recently that showed that anorexics, bulemics and people suffering from depression had a more accurate self image and image of the world than those who were "normal". The media interpreted the results as showing that in order to maintain a "normal", "healthy" lifestyle, people need a certain level of delusion. They need a little bit of false self-esteem and a slight rose-colored fog to settle in over the world.

But if an atheist proclaims to be enlightened, more so than any religious person, then how can they possibly argue that people are born good? How can they look at a two year old punch its parent in the face out of nowhere and say we are born without malice?

My aunt knew somebody who adopted a baby, and at a family party, this person and the baby were there. The baby had a feeding tube, and me being young and curious, I asked what it was for and I remember it so clearly. The baby had been really badly neglected and decided to commit suicide. It just stopped eating. That was its coping mechanism. And so, it needed a feeding tube in order to survive. And I remember putting that whole idea away in the back of my mind for later, when I was strong enough to look at it.

We all do that. We all die in some way when we don't get what we need. Whether it's losing our idealism, losing our faith in humanity or losing our spirit, we all lose something that kills us a little bit.

A lot of people lose God. A lot of people lose Him before they even know Him at all. It's just easier that way. It's easier to team up with our fellow humans and say, "What a rotten world we live in," when those same humans are the cause of so much of this rottenness. It's far easier to blame God than it is to look at ourselves.

Why is that? We can easily point out the rapists and murderers and molesters and say they're evil and they contribute to this world being so horrible, but do we ever look at ourselves? Do we ever wonder how many of our habits and gestures cause a negative ripple effect in the world?

If we look at them, then we have no control over this situation. We believe few people ruin it for the masses. But what if we ruin it for the masses? What if our impression on the world causes a cascade effect of darkness?

When I was betrayed, without a doubt it was horrible for me. But I live my life fairly openly, and without realizing it, I led a whole bunch of people to betrayal too. Granted, they were witnessing rather than experiencing it first hand, but to watch somebody get so broken broke them a little bit. The betrayal could have stopped with me, but it didn't. I transmitted it to others and affected their perception of the world. Their world is a little bit darker after knowing this kind of person exists and this kind of thing can happen and I introduced that into their lives.

That's not to say I should have stayed silent and kept everything to myself. That's a path straight towards self-destruction. It's just to point out the ripple effect. Our outlook on the world changes the people we share it with.

If by nature, being born of corruptible seed, we emit terrible things innately, then maybe we do need rules, if only to make us realize how hard it is to follow them.

Jesus said love your enemies. Love those who are the hardest to love. And you know, I can write out a list of those who are the hardest to love in my life right now, and I can say, "But for the grace of God will I be saved because I can't. I choose to stay angry, resentful and bitter towards these people because I am just not strong enough to love those who have been so terrible to me."

I'm not. It's in my nature to hold a spiteful grudge against those who have abused me, abused my trust and abused my generosity. It's not in my nature to love those who have scarred my soul.

How can we say people are generally good? How can we say most people have good intentions? We ourselves fail at that.

My intentions are good. My intentions are as good as I can make them. My intentions are good as long as I trust that the people to whom I direct my attention have good intentions.

That post I wrote last weekend and then deleted was the truth. It was the series of events leading up to the worst betrayal of my life. And I wrote it with mixed intentions. I'm terrified that somebody who might be sweet and loving might get brutalized and broken. With that in mind, my intentions were good. But the part of me that is still angry wants to make sure my betrayer doesn't get to have somebody else sacrifice their entire life for him because he doesn't deserve it. With that in mind, my intentions are vengeful. Even if my good intentions far outweigh the bad simply because I feel them a lot more strongly in this case (I pray for her even though she was a very significant part of the worst pain of my life), the bad intentions can't be denied.

When we are hurt, we retaliate. We always do. We react. We might not always react in revenge or anger. Sometimes we react in self-destruction and self-hatred. Sometimes we react externally and others internally, but whatever the defense mechanisms are, they are not meant to cause positive ripples in the universe.

Last week, as part of my job, I had to partake in terrible events and when I left work that particular day when everything went down, I drove in the opposite direction of home and even though I can barely afford to eat these days, I bought my sister-in-law a soy mochaccino from a really awesome cafe near her work and I drove it over to her. Somehow, I had to balance out the ripples a little bit. Somehow, even cynical, broken, busted up me knew that that day, the energy in the world was just way, way, way too dark. I had to do something, however minor, just to balance it out.

While it did make her smile, it didn't change what happened earlier that day. We can't balance it out, just like we can't depend on Karma to balance it out either. We can't fix what we break because we're broken. We can't repair in the world that which is broken in ourselves too.

And that's what sin is really about. That's why we need God to send His Son to right our wrongs. That's why we need somebody who is not broken and who knows us better than we know ourselves to fix what we broke.

Without Him, we can't. Without Him, we will always be delusional about the state of our hearts and continue to break those around us for our own gain and be ok with it. Without Him, we spread ripples of darkness while telling ourselves we are good. Without Him, we are nothing but good acts to make up for the world's darkness.

With Him, we are the light of the world.

The Gift.

2009-10-14T02:41:00.001-04:00

So in my last post, I described how when I pray for stuff, it seems to work because I believe what I'm praying, but the thing about all that is it scares me. The stuff of my prayers keeps happening, and not in the horoscopey, vague, "maybe this is the answer" way, but through very explicit and clear means. And I've been told by a few Christians that it's a gift, and they tend to start making me use it. :D

But for a girl who grew up in such a conditionally loving environment, where everything had an equal and opposite reaction, this "gift" scares me.

What does it depend on? Why do my prayers get answered? Why me? What makes me different? What if whatever it is changes somehow and the prayers stop getting answered? What if people start to rely on me for prayer and my gift is gone? What then? How will I know when it is gone?

When I first started praying, I was worried about praying wrong. Maybe worried is not the word. Terrified.

Last winter, I thought I was broke (I really had no idea what was to come) and so I prayed that God might provide me whatever I needed that day, and every day, I kept getting it. But then I was betrayed by the person I thought I loved, and I remember telling him after I'd lost him, "All this time, I was praying for food and I forgot to pray to keep you."

Terrified.

But I kind of believe that if your heart is really into prayer, you do get moved by the Holy Spirit a little. I didn't pray to keep him because I was listening to God. I was feeling God. And we all know that particular person was not meant to, say, marry me and betray me over and over until my soul gave up entirely. We know that now. But back then, I was devastated because I thought I must have prayed wrong.

Even earlier than that, I needed a prayer mediator. I didn't feel God, and so I asked this person who would betray me to pray for my people because in my head at the time, before I really started learning, he had a bond with God that I didn't. Turns out he didn't either, but that's another story for another day.

But like the widow who bothers the judge over and over and over in The Parable of the Persistent Widow in Luke 18, so were my prayers this spring when I was broken. Please God, help me to not feel so nauseous all the time. Please God, open this pastor's heart. Please God, make my betrayer feel what he did to me. Those were my three basic things on my prayer list that got me through the worst time I can remember ever having. I couldn't eat because I felt so taken advantage of and I couldn't imagine living in a world where my betrayer would not understand the gravity of what he did to me. And the pastor, well, I just cared about him, even though he couldn't really care less about me. He led a congregation down south and he was one of the first pastors I'd ever listened to online, and some of his message was interlaced with hate, and my betrayer grew up in that church. So I prayed and I prayed and I prayed, every night. Every moment of peace, I would pray.

And then shortly after my birthday trip down to my favorite church, I was home and decided to look up that church where the pastor I prayed for preached. I was so far behind in the sermons, so I just picked my birthday sermon. And this pastor was all powerfully evangelical and never afraid to proclaim the gospel but also maybe throw in a couple of threats of hell in there with his voice on "full scare mode"- he is a passionate preacher.

And so he was in this sermon, and about three quarters of the way through, he just broke down. He said he was just doing the best he could, and people may think he's arrogant, but he's doing all he can for the kingdom of God in the only ways he knows how. He talked about how hard it was to be away from his family, but that this was where God called him to be and so he went. He broke. This pastor, whose heart I'd been praying for for months and months, suddenly shattered. He suddenly became humble and human and open. On my birthday. Just like that.

It was humbling to me also. I wrote to him and shared my awe for God and for the way He'd answered my prayers for this pastor.

By then, my prayers had already changed. My list got longer and became far less about survival and more about helping those around me and glorifying God in the process. But stuff kept happening.

One night, a friend's small dog got hit by a car. She was devastated and preliminary xrays showed the dog was just shattered. His hips, his jaw- he was just a broken little guy. So I prayed for him that night, as he lay in the doggy ER, waiting for the morning staff to come in to run more comprehensive tests on him. The next day, the new xrays showed he hadn't had any breaks at all. Within a couple of days, he was running around again. And while the first instinct in reaction to that is either disbelief or awe, for me, it was kind of intertwined with a panic.

What would the equal and opposite reaction be?

There had to be one. Right? It scares me still. For every prayer that is answered, I somehow feel like something terrible has to happen.

And so I neglected my list. I started to resent it even more because I'd look at it and realize that one by one, I was losing the people on that list. They'd get what I was praying for, but they wouldn't be in my life anymore either. It kind of bothered me to pray for people who had either shut me down or just walked out on me, just because it kept happening. Maybe that was the other shoe dropping, I thought. Maybe they get what I pray for, but in turn, I lose them?

But all that implies that there is a balance of good and evil in God as there is in the world. Well, we'd like to think there's a balance in the world, but I'm not so sure. But in God? There's no turning in God- He won't "turn" evil suddenly. God doesn't give so He can take away. That's not a loving God at all.

What if the only condition in which God gives is that whatever He gives has to glorify Him? What if what you pray for comes true only because it glorifies God in the clearest way possible?

What if what you pray for only happens because you become a vessel of glorification for others?

When I drive home from the country late at night at peak roadkill hour, I always ask God to take care of His animals. "Please God, take care of Your animals," I ask over and over, whenever it occurs to me. And then I always have this internal dialog wherein I decide that even if I hit something, God is still taking care of his animals in a way that I just don't understand yet. And I know if any atheists are reading this, they'd think that's absurd. "What kind of God would put an animal under your tires and have it be a good thing?" But the point is not that He would or not; the point is that if it did happen, my faith would not be shaken. My faith in God does not depend on my requests being answered in the way I expect, but instead on a trust in God and a trust that He will always do what is best and right, even if it might not seem that way at first.

Do I pray to save the animals, to save my car from potential damage, or do I pray because God is good? Because God is good, and if He can show us that good to draw us closer to Him, He will. He always will.

And yet, the way my prayers are answered scares me. Like I said in my post earlier, I really do have to try to learn the good side of God, the loving and gracious side, the side that doesn't need me to constantly suffer, and actually does want me to be ok, so long as it glorifies Him and draws me closer to Him.

Maybe for a girl like me, who is so adapted to conditional love, that's the condition- that there are no conditions at all. Maybe that's something I have to learn to His glory.

Maybe.

But in the meantime, it still terrifies me.