On Wednesday we all got the email. My heart sank and cringed and I stared at the screen with my mouth open. Then (on some kind of autopilot) I turned back to the work I was doing and managed to put the email on ice. My sensible brain knew I didn't have the emotional capacity at that time to engage properly and I'm thankful I was able to defer.
The email was from our manager informing of a coworker being widowed that very evening. I spoke on the phone with my manager a few hours later to make sure the coworker's shifts were covered. Between what could be overheard and the fact that I was pacing (which I didn't realise I was doing), I was giving a lot away. When I got off the phone my housemate was looking at me with the this-is-obviously-serious-so-what-is-going-on? face and so I told her.
For the first few minutes we mostly sat in the "I don't even know" silence with shrugging shoulders and faces screwed up in empathy. I forgot my housemate didn't know whom the widow and the departed both called Lord and Saviour and when I informed her, the conversation became notably less heavy.
The next day at work no one mentioned it and it seemed like we were avoiding eye-contact in the same way answer-less students avoid eye-contact with the teacher. After an hour or so I asked my deskmate, "Did you get [the manager's] email?" and the quick, quiet "yes" came also without eye-contact. For the next couple hours we avoided the word itself, connected words, and connected-to-connected words. We found ourselves using the widow's name to refer to the departed because that name is just so hard to pronounce on Day Two. We talked about "the email" or "the news" or "what happened" or "Wednesday".
The day after, there was a little more levity around the office (I think in part because we had heard a bit about how our coworker was doing) and people spoke a little more freely about their wishes, their condolences, their "I don't know what I would do"s. It seems we really care about her.
On Saturday we heard about the arrangements and more emails were exchanged to coordinate attending the visitation together.
The funeral was yesterday morning and in God's kindness I was able to go. I went with the manager who is also my closest friend of all my coworkers here. She is also the only other believer in our Lord Jesus Christ (the Killer of Death, the Eradicator of Sin & the Curse, the Victor, the Conquering King, the Glorious One). It was hard. Death is hard. But how marvellous that the man leading the service yesterday ALSO knew that same Victor and he spoke passionately as if that mattered!
I kept reflecting during the service and after how differently Christians grieve. It's just night-and-day. When I got back to the office I struggled to know how to describe it to inquiring coworkers. It was of course difficult, but it was truly great because we worshipped God. It was good in a real way. But how to explain that to unbelievers and not seem awkwardly callous or morbid because you only have 30 seconds to answer? In those moments I hope my long-term witness means something.
During the first song (which I had never heard), really listening to the words, I felt a deep, deep yearning to have what the departed now has. The songs--about God being with us through every trial or hardship, about the great riches and wonder of the next life, about His magnificent presence--the songs stirred up an intense desire in me to be with Him fully and real-ly. I envied the dead. I envied, I envied, I envied. I want to be with Christ. This world is too dark, too heavy, too sorrowful, too hard. I just want to be done; I just want to be with Him.
I console myself that God calls each home at the exact right time for His purposes. I then conclude that I am here for November 24th because the Lord willed it, because it is good. And I infer that He has given or will give a way to get through.
Tuesday, 24 November 2015
Wednesday, 21 October 2015
Two weeks ago I got plastered for the second time in my life.
The first time I was about ten years old and had broken my tibia while ice skating. The doctor called it a "bologne" cast but I only heard "below-knee". I remember my non-reaction to the terrible pun making the doctor a little awkward. Ha.
The more recent incident was a casting to make custom orthotics, a generous gift from my mother and a hopeful solution to my lingering foot pain/injury. I still don't see how it will help but I'm not the expert.
I lay on the crinkly exam paper on my stomach so my feet dangled off the end of the table. There was a poster right at my eye-level with images and descriptions of various healthy and diseased feet. It was as disgusting as it was fascinating.
The orthotist put the radio on which washed me over with relief. This was her alternative to small talk!
She didn't narrate what she was doing and I didn't ask or turn around and look. I heard water drip back into a basin right before the warm--then hot!--gauze was placed on my foot. It felt great. It was like a foot bath or foot massage or both or something.
The orthotist's next move was what gave me the blog post. She had to continually smooth the plastered gauze from heel to to toe, presumably to keep air out and get the most accurate cast.
---
Nobody touches my feet. It wasn't until recent years that anyone in my family was allowed to see me barefoot--and I still get mocked for it to this day.
I don't cuddle or snuggle. Even when I was taking care of the boys and they would come nestle beside me or sit on my lap it took so much energy and focus to not flinch that I didn't have any left to reciprocate.
Hugging is still almost always something I have to psych myself up for. Maybe it's in the past six or seven years that I've even started accepting/initiating hugs and I still feel new. I'm still building up that neuron pathway between Physical Embrace and Relational Affection. The two (can) have an organic link. I like people, I just don't know how to like physical affection. It's hard but it's getting less scary with practice.
---
So, this almost-stranger is making even, deliberate strokes down the sole of my foot while my muscles and tendons relax right into it, in no small part because of the heat of the plaster. And something very elemental within me is feeling nourished. I feel like a baby, having no understanding of how physical touch aids development or feelings of security, having no understanding of what the words "physical" and "touch" mean, having no idea what my own nose is, but somehow being nurtured, nourished, fed by what I'm receiving.
I'm sad that I feel physical affection at such a basic level when I'm in my thirties. It shouldn't be this way. I shouldn't be this far behind. I first started noticing the phenomenon when I began receiving physiotherapy treatment last May. Then I had my first ever massage last November and it became even harder to ignore.
Some time last summer a low rumbling within nudged me to book more physiotherapy appointments than were strictly needed because someone would unhesitatingly make physical contact with me. They would be safe and they would have no emotional or relational expectations of me. I never did book those superfluous appointments--which I thank God for.
But when it came to the plastering of two Mondays ago, the denial melted away. I have a serious physical affection deficiency, ignorance, and aversion. Feeling so profoundly nourished by the latex-gloved hands of an orthotist making a cast of my feet--not expressing her enjoyment of our friendship--registered as almost tragic. It felt GREAT and it shouldn't have. I'm an amateur and it's embarrassing.
My father was sporadically in my life and sporadically (read: largely unpredictably) gave hugs, put a hand on a shoulder, playfully smacked our legs while he was driving because that's all he could reach backwardsly, etc. On top of this I was so skittish around him that the contact registered sterile or mechanical. I could do it but I didn't mean or understand it. Maybe I should say it was inaccessible. My mum doesn't like hugs or being touched, and in later years she has said so explicitly. I have two distinct childhood memories of her stroking my head while I rested on her lap. Those memories feel amazing and fake at the same time.
I want to be loved. I want to be known. I want to express through touch. I want to have relational trust and vulnerability and intimacy--and I say this with a marital relationship at the bottom of the list. I just want to be seen and valued and allowed in and allowed to need and communicate. I want to be close to someone.
I don't want my closest physical affection to come from health professionals. Lord, help me.
I'm sad that I feel physical affection at such a basic level when I'm in my thirties. It shouldn't be this way. I shouldn't be this far behind. I first started noticing the phenomenon when I began receiving physiotherapy treatment last May. Then I had my first ever massage last November and it became even harder to ignore.
Some time last summer a low rumbling within nudged me to book more physiotherapy appointments than were strictly needed because someone would unhesitatingly make physical contact with me. They would be safe and they would have no emotional or relational expectations of me. I never did book those superfluous appointments--which I thank God for.
---
But when it came to the plastering of two Mondays ago, the denial melted away. I have a serious physical affection deficiency, ignorance, and aversion. Feeling so profoundly nourished by the latex-gloved hands of an orthotist making a cast of my feet--not expressing her enjoyment of our friendship--registered as almost tragic. It felt GREAT and it shouldn't have. I'm an amateur and it's embarrassing.
My father was sporadically in my life and sporadically (read: largely unpredictably) gave hugs, put a hand on a shoulder, playfully smacked our legs while he was driving because that's all he could reach backwardsly, etc. On top of this I was so skittish around him that the contact registered sterile or mechanical. I could do it but I didn't mean or understand it. Maybe I should say it was inaccessible. My mum doesn't like hugs or being touched, and in later years she has said so explicitly. I have two distinct childhood memories of her stroking my head while I rested on her lap. Those memories feel amazing and fake at the same time.
---
I want to be loved. I want to be known. I want to express through touch. I want to have relational trust and vulnerability and intimacy--and I say this with a marital relationship at the bottom of the list. I just want to be seen and valued and allowed in and allowed to need and communicate. I want to be close to someone.
I don't want my closest physical affection to come from health professionals. Lord, help me.
Thursday, 15 October 2015
this is my gross heart.
"Whoa--free dinner!" I exclaimed. My sensitive nose had alerted me to it from a few yards away. And it smelled like just my type of cuisine.
I nipped over to get a closer look. Yup. It was a free, abandoned meal. And still hot! I did just eat but this was too good to pass up. And I was kinda hungry again. I was so excited it felt like my tail was wagging.
A final once-over and then I tucked in. It went down easy. It tasted pretty good. I licked my lips in satisfaction and headed off.
---
As a dog returns to its vomit,
so a fool repeats their folly.
(Proverbs 26:11)
Wednesday, 7 October 2015
Things for which to be thankful.
On Monday I read through the first eight verses of chapter 3 in Titus maybe six or seven times in preparation for this Sunday's service. I tend to read and re-read until I can see where we will need to be lead to enter the sermon and what we should take home after the sermon. Eventually I found the songs that I thought would work. But I thought more about flow of service, particular musicians, tempo, keys, saxophones, and how long it's been since we sang Song X.
Today I was assembling the slides for lyrics and Scripture that will be projected during the service. And as I updated to NIV 2011 not verse-by-verse but word-by-word and punctuation mark-by-punctuation mark, something got snagged in my fine-toothed comb.
I found this: He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit. I read it and felt like I fell out of my chair. (I literally felt that way.) It was staggering. Us*... we are saved through the washing of rebirth. Somehow the phrasing got me. Somehow God hard-wired humans to understand cleanness and dirtiness on every figurative plane imaginable.
*moral scum buckets
And somehow He cleansed us! The washing of rebirth and renewal. Today it felt truly too good to be true. Too good to grasp. I couldn't touch fingertips trying to reach my hands around it. I couldn't bite into it, let alone swallow and digest it. I couldn't do anything but shake my head, dumbfounded. I couldn't see through it, I couldn't make sense of it, I just couldn't get it. It's too much. It's too good. IT REALLY IS GOOD NEWS. Oh, selah and amen.
Try it with me. Try reading the passage below and scrutinize each word like it's a restaurant and you're the health inspector.
Titus 3:3-7 -- At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.
Nothing more to say.
Today I was assembling the slides for lyrics and Scripture that will be projected during the service. And as I updated to NIV 2011 not verse-by-verse but word-by-word and punctuation mark-by-punctuation mark, something got snagged in my fine-toothed comb.
I found this: He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit. I read it and felt like I fell out of my chair. (I literally felt that way.) It was staggering. Us*... we are saved through the washing of rebirth. Somehow the phrasing got me. Somehow God hard-wired humans to understand cleanness and dirtiness on every figurative plane imaginable.
*moral scum buckets
And somehow He cleansed us! The washing of rebirth and renewal. Today it felt truly too good to be true. Too good to grasp. I couldn't touch fingertips trying to reach my hands around it. I couldn't bite into it, let alone swallow and digest it. I couldn't do anything but shake my head, dumbfounded. I couldn't see through it, I couldn't make sense of it, I just couldn't get it. It's too much. It's too good. IT REALLY IS GOOD NEWS. Oh, selah and amen.
Try it with me. Try reading the passage below and scrutinize each word like it's a restaurant and you're the health inspector.
Titus 3:3-7 -- At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.
Nothing more to say.
Friday, 2 October 2015
chop / chop / chop
I feel so fake sometimes. I had a couple half-ideas of what I would blog about this evening and though the ideas came naturally/spontaneously, I feel oddly obligated to "check in" with this web log because it feels like it's been a while. Sigh. I don't know what I'm doing. There's always something mitigating, something extenuating. I know I'm not obligated to write... but I can't stand the thought of me not feeling like writing. I can't lose that.
I wanted to write about how relaxed I felt today from about 5pm onward (though I started tensing up again maybe an hour ago). It was relaxed + happy + OK + balanced + relieved. By 5pm I felt great confidence that I had had a full and productive day. Worked hard on a couple of things today--volunteer tasks, seminary work, paid work--and most of it wasn't exactly the stuff I delight in. They were things that needed to be done and were either best done today or could only be done today. I kept my head down, dusted off my self-discipline manual and got it done.
By 5 o'clock I felt like I was allowed to just go home and have a Friday evening. I truly felt no guilt about having achieved too little or "nothing" that day so that if in the evening I only wanted to do leisure things, it would be OK. It feels like a miracle of God that I could have such a day. I'm so happy about it and I want another. It feels like seminary has slipped perfectly into the puzzle/pie chart/engine that is my life. It has fit in a good spot and instead of squishing the other parts, it complements and relaxes them. (Not wanting to push the analogy too far) it's like adding the capstone to an arch: it means all the other pieces bear the weight they should and that the arch is its most stable. I hope I can use the capstone/cornerstone analogy because seminary is about learning about/knowing/worshipping the Lord. I'm only three weeks in but ...I'm happy about how it has mopped up some of my spare time and converted it into something healthy and edifying.
The other thing I wanted to write about was yesterday's meltdown. I've thought about writing this type of post a lot lately but I refrain because it seems like the kind of thing you say to friends, not to cyberspace. But I don't know whom to talk to. Something mitigating, extenuating. I left work after an OK shift, and a mixed physiotherapy session, but not before being harshly snapped at by a coworker. It wasn't really a big deal and on a different day I'd dismiss it more easily. But on this day the donkey's back broke under the extra 0.5 grams of weight. On this day, I was juggling shin splints on the leg of my bad foot and a rolled ankle on the leg that's supposed to be bearing extra responsibility these days. The physiotherapy that was meant to help the rolled ankle aggravated it to the point where I felt my sanity was being stretched trying to sit quietly on the therapy bed and not yell out or cry.
It was the kind of pain that forces itself to the forefront of your mind. All of us have sore muscles or joints or throats sometimes and we manage to get on with our day and tend to the pain intermittently. This was so bad that it was every fourth thought. "I'm in so much pain," I would say in my mind, unable to come up with something more complex or less obvious to think about. One block and a half away from work I stopped to sit on a bench to give my foot/leg/ankle a rest and as I thought about the 20 minutes more of walking that I had to do if I wanted to get home, and how awful each step would be, I kept thinking that fourth thought. "I'm in so much pain." Then the two halves of the analogy that I had been trying to keep apart slammed together. I'm in so much emotional pain, too. It's also a mystery. It is also something people can't see. It is also something that I see no end to in the near future. It also makes me hate myself and my mistakes and my inability to make it better.
So, my sunglasses filled with saline. I tried to hide it which made me sob more. I hate crying in public. I hate being so low and so small and so stuck that I just cry in public until I can stop crying and get up.
Eventually I stopped crying and got up. I went for lunch even though I didn't want food. I ate out even though I had recently done a robust grocery shop. I felt distinctly pushed by the LORD (my Father), the Lord (my big Brother), to go and have something I would enjoy, something that would show how He loved me. I wanted something cheap and small just to get me home (it was almost 2pm and I had eaten a small breakfast around 8). He said, "nothing too good for my daughter," just as I came up Wyndham by Carden St, and I choked up again.
Are You really here? Do You really see me? Do You get this?
Take me home. Take me with You. Tell me where to go, what to do. Tell me how to weather this. Tell me how a noble Christian lives this life. Help me to do it. Help me to trust You. Please let me see You.
At the restaurant, the server gave me that awkward look that strangers do when they can see you are crying/have just been crying/are about to cry. After I placed my order I started again. I was thinking of how nice it was to just share a meal with Him but how I had an assignment due that day and one due the next day which I wanted to start. I thought about my piles of reading that I could be doing, chipping away at. I thought about the other daunting tasks of Friday. I thought of how behind and useless I am. What's the point of anything? What's this stupid lunch going to solve? The tears came so quickly I had to go to the bathroom. My thumb hovered over "Send" on my phone for reach-out texts probably 10 times that day. But I couldn't do it. I cried in the stupid bathroom until I could stop crying. It's so awful. It's an awful prison. I don't know what's wrong.
But I made it out of the loo, and found the Psalms. (The Psalms found me.) Lunch was awesome. Just perfect and I don't know why the cold water tasted so awesome but it often does after one loses water through the eyes.
The rest of the day is practically a blur but I made it on strength that wasn't my own. I thank God for crouching down and guiding me muscle-by-muscle how to put one foot in front of the other.
This:
Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge. (Psalm 62:5-8)
I wanted to write about how relaxed I felt today from about 5pm onward (though I started tensing up again maybe an hour ago). It was relaxed + happy + OK + balanced + relieved. By 5pm I felt great confidence that I had had a full and productive day. Worked hard on a couple of things today--volunteer tasks, seminary work, paid work--and most of it wasn't exactly the stuff I delight in. They were things that needed to be done and were either best done today or could only be done today. I kept my head down, dusted off my self-discipline manual and got it done.
By 5 o'clock I felt like I was allowed to just go home and have a Friday evening. I truly felt no guilt about having achieved too little or "nothing" that day so that if in the evening I only wanted to do leisure things, it would be OK. It feels like a miracle of God that I could have such a day. I'm so happy about it and I want another. It feels like seminary has slipped perfectly into the puzzle/pie chart/engine that is my life. It has fit in a good spot and instead of squishing the other parts, it complements and relaxes them. (Not wanting to push the analogy too far) it's like adding the capstone to an arch: it means all the other pieces bear the weight they should and that the arch is its most stable. I hope I can use the capstone/cornerstone analogy because seminary is about learning about/knowing/worshipping the Lord. I'm only three weeks in but ...I'm happy about how it has mopped up some of my spare time and converted it into something healthy and edifying.
The other thing I wanted to write about was yesterday's meltdown. I've thought about writing this type of post a lot lately but I refrain because it seems like the kind of thing you say to friends, not to cyberspace. But I don't know whom to talk to. Something mitigating, extenuating. I left work after an OK shift, and a mixed physiotherapy session, but not before being harshly snapped at by a coworker. It wasn't really a big deal and on a different day I'd dismiss it more easily. But on this day the donkey's back broke under the extra 0.5 grams of weight. On this day, I was juggling shin splints on the leg of my bad foot and a rolled ankle on the leg that's supposed to be bearing extra responsibility these days. The physiotherapy that was meant to help the rolled ankle aggravated it to the point where I felt my sanity was being stretched trying to sit quietly on the therapy bed and not yell out or cry.
It was the kind of pain that forces itself to the forefront of your mind. All of us have sore muscles or joints or throats sometimes and we manage to get on with our day and tend to the pain intermittently. This was so bad that it was every fourth thought. "I'm in so much pain," I would say in my mind, unable to come up with something more complex or less obvious to think about. One block and a half away from work I stopped to sit on a bench to give my foot/leg/ankle a rest and as I thought about the 20 minutes more of walking that I had to do if I wanted to get home, and how awful each step would be, I kept thinking that fourth thought. "I'm in so much pain." Then the two halves of the analogy that I had been trying to keep apart slammed together. I'm in so much emotional pain, too. It's also a mystery. It is also something people can't see. It is also something that I see no end to in the near future. It also makes me hate myself and my mistakes and my inability to make it better.
So, my sunglasses filled with saline. I tried to hide it which made me sob more. I hate crying in public. I hate being so low and so small and so stuck that I just cry in public until I can stop crying and get up.
Eventually I stopped crying and got up. I went for lunch even though I didn't want food. I ate out even though I had recently done a robust grocery shop. I felt distinctly pushed by the LORD (my Father), the Lord (my big Brother), to go and have something I would enjoy, something that would show how He loved me. I wanted something cheap and small just to get me home (it was almost 2pm and I had eaten a small breakfast around 8). He said, "nothing too good for my daughter," just as I came up Wyndham by Carden St, and I choked up again.
Are You really here? Do You really see me? Do You get this?
Take me home. Take me with You. Tell me where to go, what to do. Tell me how to weather this. Tell me how a noble Christian lives this life. Help me to do it. Help me to trust You. Please let me see You.
At the restaurant, the server gave me that awkward look that strangers do when they can see you are crying/have just been crying/are about to cry. After I placed my order I started again. I was thinking of how nice it was to just share a meal with Him but how I had an assignment due that day and one due the next day which I wanted to start. I thought about my piles of reading that I could be doing, chipping away at. I thought about the other daunting tasks of Friday. I thought of how behind and useless I am. What's the point of anything? What's this stupid lunch going to solve? The tears came so quickly I had to go to the bathroom. My thumb hovered over "Send" on my phone for reach-out texts probably 10 times that day. But I couldn't do it. I cried in the stupid bathroom until I could stop crying. It's so awful. It's an awful prison. I don't know what's wrong.
But I made it out of the loo, and found the Psalms. (The Psalms found me.) Lunch was awesome. Just perfect and I don't know why the cold water tasted so awesome but it often does after one loses water through the eyes.
The rest of the day is practically a blur but I made it on strength that wasn't my own. I thank God for crouching down and guiding me muscle-by-muscle how to put one foot in front of the other.
This:
Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge. (Psalm 62:5-8)
Thursday, 17 September 2015
See if you can follow this...
Things the LORD knew:
-that I had a meeting in the church building this evening
-that my normal bus to get there is currently on detour
-that I would take the early alternate bus that possibly was longer than a straight walk
-that I would remember before reaching the church building that I needed hair gel
-that I would stop and start for various vehicles in the busy strip mall parking lot en route to the grocery store
and therefore:
-that at the moment I passed the doors of the LCBO an old acquaintance would emerge and warmly call my name and jolt me from the fog
He was a supplier at a former workplace whom I saw twice a week and we would yak one another's ear off, seldom on shallow topics. The age gap and the quality of the relationship had a mildly paternal feel, so the Monday/Thursday visits had become bright spots in my week.
We said we would keep in touch when I resigned my job but we didn't do a good job at first--and I had quickly realised that there really wasn't a non-sketchy-looking way for us to get together now, without the workplace context.
I've bumped into him a couple times a year around the city and though at first it was a bit starchy, we've since loosened up. Rather, I've loosened up. I've started answering more honestly when he asks, "How are ya, kiddo?" with a gaze that says "fine" is at the very bottom of his list of permitted responses.
Even today, he refused my second "fine" and prodded me with some of the things I'd divulged the last time we had crossed paths. Sometimes it's like trying to hold your bladder, the desire to answer "how are you?" honestly. I can hold it, I can hold it, I can hold it... churns through your mind as you try to think about anything but your quaking lower abdomen. But because of your pride, you refrain longer than is healthy.
What good has a false front brought you? There are times when we must be strong and wait but there are times when we are completely at liberty to do what we need to and we don't. We just don't because of our damnable pride or in the case of transparency in relationship, because of fear.
-that I had a meeting in the church building this evening
-that my normal bus to get there is currently on detour
-that I would take the early alternate bus that possibly was longer than a straight walk
-that I would remember before reaching the church building that I needed hair gel
-that I would stop and start for various vehicles in the busy strip mall parking lot en route to the grocery store
and therefore:
-that at the moment I passed the doors of the LCBO an old acquaintance would emerge and warmly call my name and jolt me from the fog
He was a supplier at a former workplace whom I saw twice a week and we would yak one another's ear off, seldom on shallow topics. The age gap and the quality of the relationship had a mildly paternal feel, so the Monday/Thursday visits had become bright spots in my week.
We said we would keep in touch when I resigned my job but we didn't do a good job at first--and I had quickly realised that there really wasn't a non-sketchy-looking way for us to get together now, without the workplace context.
I've bumped into him a couple times a year around the city and though at first it was a bit starchy, we've since loosened up. Rather, I've loosened up. I've started answering more honestly when he asks, "How are ya, kiddo?" with a gaze that says "fine" is at the very bottom of his list of permitted responses.
Even today, he refused my second "fine" and prodded me with some of the things I'd divulged the last time we had crossed paths. Sometimes it's like trying to hold your bladder, the desire to answer "how are you?" honestly. I can hold it, I can hold it, I can hold it... churns through your mind as you try to think about anything but your quaking lower abdomen. But because of your pride, you refrain longer than is healthy.
What good has a false front brought you? There are times when we must be strong and wait but there are times when we are completely at liberty to do what we need to and we don't. We just don't because of our damnable pride or in the case of transparency in relationship, because of fear.
When I caved and explained a little, he didn't recoil or become awkward. I cut myself off but he read enough to exude so much genuine sympathy/softness/heart that I was unable to escape it. He looked at me like he cared how I was doing and that my answer made his heart sink a little. This doesn't make sense for an acquaintance with such irregular interaction. I only think the LORD put someone there for me today to meet a need because of His lavish kindness.
Somewhere in the mix of the opening pleasantries to our conversation he told me I "looked fab by the way" and because it was him and because it wasn't sexual at all, it blasted out all my inner negative self-criticism for several glorious moments. They fell to a stunned hush which yielded beautiful (disorienting) relief.
Before we parted he looked like he wanted to give me a hug and I was already moving in when he was asking permission. I love that he asks and I appreciate that in the past he's been able to discern the days that there's no chance I'll say yes so he doesn't even bother asking. It's cool to be seen and known and liked.
I can't say I really know how to read or pray or appropriate the psalms. But I read these today and they connected, so I'm reproducing them here, to close the post.
But you, LORD, are a shield around me,
my glory, the One who lifts my head high. (3:3)
Answer me when I call to you,
my righteous God.
Give me relief from my distress;
have mercy on me and hear my prayer. (4:1)
In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, LORD,
make me dwell in safety. (4:8)
I am worn out from my groaning. (6:6a)
I will give thanks to the LORD because of his righteousness;
I will sing the praises of the name of LORD Most High. (7:17)
This one I so much want to claim because it speaks to such intimacy:
In the morning, LORD, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you
and wait expectantly. (5:3)
And this one is the general frame of our glorious, glorious gospel so I'm going to type it out because I can't not pump a fist for it:
For you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness;
with you, evil people are not welcome.
The arrogant cannot stand
in your presence.
You hate all who do wrong;
you destroy those who tell lies.
The bloodthirsty and deceitful
you, LORD, detest.
But I, by your great love,
can come into your house;
in reverence I bow down
toward your holy temple. (5:4-7)
"But I, by your great love."
that's like the beginning and end of every sentence in my life!
Somewhere in the mix of the opening pleasantries to our conversation he told me I "looked fab by the way" and because it was him and because it wasn't sexual at all, it blasted out all my inner negative self-criticism for several glorious moments. They fell to a stunned hush which yielded beautiful (disorienting) relief.
Before we parted he looked like he wanted to give me a hug and I was already moving in when he was asking permission. I love that he asks and I appreciate that in the past he's been able to discern the days that there's no chance I'll say yes so he doesn't even bother asking. It's cool to be seen and known and liked.
I can't say I really know how to read or pray or appropriate the psalms. But I read these today and they connected, so I'm reproducing them here, to close the post.
But you, LORD, are a shield around me,
my glory, the One who lifts my head high. (3:3)
Answer me when I call to you,
my righteous God.
Give me relief from my distress;
have mercy on me and hear my prayer. (4:1)
In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, LORD,
make me dwell in safety. (4:8)
I am worn out from my groaning. (6:6a)
I will give thanks to the LORD because of his righteousness;
I will sing the praises of the name of LORD Most High. (7:17)
This one I so much want to claim because it speaks to such intimacy:
In the morning, LORD, you hear my voice;
in the morning I lay my requests before you
and wait expectantly. (5:3)
And this one is the general frame of our glorious, glorious gospel so I'm going to type it out because I can't not pump a fist for it:
For you are not a God who is pleased with wickedness;
with you, evil people are not welcome.
The arrogant cannot stand
in your presence.
You hate all who do wrong;
you destroy those who tell lies.
The bloodthirsty and deceitful
you, LORD, detest.
But I, by your great love,
can come into your house;
in reverence I bow down
toward your holy temple. (5:4-7)
"But I, by your great love."
that's like the beginning and end of every sentence in my life!
Monday, 7 September 2015
grapefruit spoon
Every time I go past the Homewood (which is at least five times a week), I think about how close I have come to being a part of it. I feel so weird [intensely unsettled] every time I go through that little stretch on Delhi Street: General Hospital (which I have visited maybe ten times in the past year), various Homewood satellite buildings (one of which I've had several appointments in), and the Homewood Health Centre main building (outside which I once parked, not sure how to get out of the car; the outside of which I embarrassedly explored; the front doors of which I almost opened, the front desk of which I could see, the confusing signs on which alarmed me so surreally that I left).
It was scary thinking I could belong there. It was scary thinking my mind was not my own. It was scary thinking I had become so desperate for help/relief with what was going on inside my head. It's so impossible to have mental pain/issues. It's so impossible to use the malfunctioning organ to find treatment for itself. (How does one think about solutions to mental problems?)
It was frustrating thinking that I very likely didn't belong there but that I didn't know what was the downgraded option. What were the middle options between checking into an institute and talking to friends? The middle of that spectrum is a mystery to me.
It's impossible that these problems actually exist. How can there be something wrong with my brain? And how do I describe it? And how do I get them to believe me? How do I get out of this impossibility? What else is there to think about?
And then, often, this is all out of my head as soon as I reach Emma Street or Eramosa Road.
[I had actually finished and published the post here but conviction overwhelmed me and I had to take it down. It seems that God must have the last word despite how intense my emotions are.]
All I have are these words:
Oh, what peace the Spirit of Jesus brings,
through the trials He will carry me.
One day in heaven our eyes will meet;
filled with wonder, all the saints will sing:
Hallelujah, what a Saviour!
I owe everything to Him.
Hallelujah, what a Saviour,
hallelujah to my King.
© 2007 "Hallelujah to my King" by Brenton Brown and Paul Baloche
I don't have it in me. I don't have much of anything in me but I can say those words. I can't emote or smile about those words but I can know them and speak [proclaim] them. I can lie on top of the life raft and let gravity keep me in place; I don't need strength or effort in order to stay put.
Here I am. Hallelujah to my Saviour-Shepherd-King. And hallelujah for that "one day". Yes, yes, yes.
It was scary thinking I could belong there. It was scary thinking my mind was not my own. It was scary thinking I had become so desperate for help/relief with what was going on inside my head. It's so impossible to have mental pain/issues. It's so impossible to use the malfunctioning organ to find treatment for itself. (How does one think about solutions to mental problems?)
It was frustrating thinking that I very likely didn't belong there but that I didn't know what was the downgraded option. What were the middle options between checking into an institute and talking to friends? The middle of that spectrum is a mystery to me.
It's impossible that these problems actually exist. How can there be something wrong with my brain? And how do I describe it? And how do I get them to believe me? How do I get out of this impossibility? What else is there to think about?
And then, often, this is all out of my head as soon as I reach Emma Street or Eramosa Road.
[I had actually finished and published the post here but conviction overwhelmed me and I had to take it down. It seems that God must have the last word despite how intense my emotions are.]
All I have are these words:
Oh, what peace the Spirit of Jesus brings,
through the trials He will carry me.
One day in heaven our eyes will meet;
filled with wonder, all the saints will sing:
Hallelujah, what a Saviour!
I owe everything to Him.
Hallelujah, what a Saviour,
hallelujah to my King.
© 2007 "Hallelujah to my King" by Brenton Brown and Paul Baloche
I don't have it in me. I don't have much of anything in me but I can say those words. I can't emote or smile about those words but I can know them and speak [proclaim] them. I can lie on top of the life raft and let gravity keep me in place; I don't need strength or effort in order to stay put.
Here I am. Hallelujah to my Saviour-Shepherd-King. And hallelujah for that "one day". Yes, yes, yes.
Tuesday, 25 August 2015
Legal movement without dribbling.
a.k.a. The Pivot
Partly, it feels like I've been lassoed mid-torso and my arms are pinned to my sides. Besides restricting movement above my elbows, it is humiliating because I am not an animal.
Partly, it feels like there's a thick, dark sac over my head and I can't see or breathe very well.
It is a velvet cloak, soaked through. It's heavy, it's awkward, it leaves a watery mess wherever I go. It's three sizes too big and the hood conceals my face as if doing passers-by a favour.
It is a parched throat that chokes speech into crackles of nonsense.
There is a thick, slimy swamp that comes up above my hips that is barely liquid. It's so dense and relentless sometimes I think I'm only imagining that I'm walking at all.
It can be very loud and angry. It can be an unsuppressible desire to scream and scream.
It's like a gagged mouth
It's like a puffed up face
It is aloneness
It is hard to express and hard to avoid
It is heavy
It is difficult
It weakens and drains and tires
It hangs off one's neck
It obstructs and it denies
Partly, it's a mystery that makes anticipating God's work here that much more exciting.
Partly, it's a darkness I can be grateful for as it makes His light that much more brilliant.
Partly, it's a push each day, each morning, each moment to lift my eyes up to the mountains, where my help comes from---when everything else is weighed down, tied up, muted, or suffocated, I can still lift up my eyes.
Partly, it feels like I've been lassoed mid-torso and my arms are pinned to my sides. Besides restricting movement above my elbows, it is humiliating because I am not an animal.
Partly, it feels like there's a thick, dark sac over my head and I can't see or breathe very well.
It is a velvet cloak, soaked through. It's heavy, it's awkward, it leaves a watery mess wherever I go. It's three sizes too big and the hood conceals my face as if doing passers-by a favour.
It is a parched throat that chokes speech into crackles of nonsense.
There is a thick, slimy swamp that comes up above my hips that is barely liquid. It's so dense and relentless sometimes I think I'm only imagining that I'm walking at all.
It can be very loud and angry. It can be an unsuppressible desire to scream and scream.
It's like a gagged mouth
It's like a puffed up face
It is aloneness
It is hard to express and hard to avoid
It is heavy
It is difficult
It weakens and drains and tires
It hangs off one's neck
It obstructs and it denies
This is my depression; this is my mood-world.
Partly, it's a mystery that makes anticipating God's work here that much more exciting.
Partly, it's a darkness I can be grateful for as it makes His light that much more brilliant.
Partly, it's a push each day, each morning, each moment to lift my eyes up to the mountains, where my help comes from---when everything else is weighed down, tied up, muted, or suffocated, I can still lift up my eyes.
It is a terrible handicap, but I belong to God: I am treasured and whole, carried and loved.
Tuesday, 18 August 2015
From Latin meaning "entering the flesh again".
Yesterday, thinking about things I've done to deal with a persistent, difficult situation that started over two years ago, things I should have done differently, and things I very much regret, I re-realised that I seem to believe in reincarnation. The regret is so much bitterer because with hindsight I see how much extra damage I have probably done. (Of course, maybe nothing I did made it worse but I doubt it--and I'll never know.)
I think I first realised in my early twenties that I (seem to) believe in reincarnation when I recognised myself expecting to be able to do high school a second time, changing all the things I now regretted. I have a mirror (a mirrored partition) in my mind; I have a way of processing stages or life events as if what is happening or has happened is only the first time of more than one time. It seems unhealthy when I look at it but it's really hard to remove. I feel like I have the denial barrier of a schizophrenic when I consider the un-partitioned view. As in...I completely irrationally hold on to getting another chance because the thought of not being able to change or redo things ruins me. I cannot face it. I cannot face it.
That said, the Lord has made me less insane and unreasonable since my early twenties. It's getting microscopically better as I realise that my entire life is in God's hands and He will both judge and produce the merit of it.
But until I fully accept that, what am I to do with having only ONE life, only ONE Tuesday, 18 August, 2015?? How can I bear loss and mistakes and regrets and failure and missed opportunities? How can I make it to the end without any scars? How do I live a life that needs no doubling-back?
I think I first realised in my early twenties that I (seem to) believe in reincarnation when I recognised myself expecting to be able to do high school a second time, changing all the things I now regretted. I have a mirror (a mirrored partition) in my mind; I have a way of processing stages or life events as if what is happening or has happened is only the first time of more than one time. It seems unhealthy when I look at it but it's really hard to remove. I feel like I have the denial barrier of a schizophrenic when I consider the un-partitioned view. As in...I completely irrationally hold on to getting another chance because the thought of not being able to change or redo things ruins me. I cannot face it. I cannot face it.
That said, the Lord has made me less insane and unreasonable since my early twenties. It's getting microscopically better as I realise that my entire life is in God's hands and He will both judge and produce the merit of it.
But until I fully accept that, what am I to do with having only ONE life, only ONE Tuesday, 18 August, 2015?? How can I bear loss and mistakes and regrets and failure and missed opportunities? How can I make it to the end without any scars? How do I live a life that needs no doubling-back?
[Author's note: I went looking for a Scripture passage which would explain how God's grace covers all, and brings good things out of crummy things but none of the passages I could think of were clicking. I take a break from searching, deliberately putting the blog aside, to try to reset and come back fresh. "Not to Us" starts playing in my head. The song's thrust is lifted from Psalm 115: Not to us, LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness. (v 1) I let the song continue to play and then the solar system shudders as gears grind and earth starts revolving around the sun--it doesn't matter what I do. It matters greatly what God does and what He is like.
This is not the antidote I had in mind. I wanted it to be that God covers or fixes our failures, He helps us overcome regret, He is the reason we don't need do-overs. (I really just wanted emotional balm.) But God changed my view.]
Psalm 111
Praise the LORD.
I will extol the LORD with all my heart
in the council of the upright and in the assembly.
Great are the works of the LORD;
they are pondered by all who delight in them.
Glorious and majestic are his deeds,
and his righteousness endures forever.
He has caused his wonders to be remembered;
the LORD is gracious and compassionate.
He provides food for those who fear him;
he remembers his covenant forever.
He has shown his people the power of his works,
giving them the lands of other nations.
The works of his hands are faithful and just;
all his precepts are trustworthy.
They are established for ever and ever,
enacted in faithfulness and uprightness.
He provided redemption for his people;
he ordained his covenant forever--
holy and awesome is his name.
The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom;
all who follow his precepts have good understanding.
To him belongs eternal praise.
Monday, 3 August 2015
Adventures in house cleaning and Deuteronomy.
Alternate title: My Saturday
At the outset of the day, I had planned to clean and tidy the house so that it didn't look like I had gone full bachelor the week my housemate was away. (I had.) But a funny thing happened. As I experienced the high that comes from doing things one ought in the time-frame and manner they ought to be done, I enjoyed myself more and more. I liked seeing my work; I liked seeing the place transformed. I also liked that it was giving me CV exercise. This is all rare for me because I tend to clean/tidy in spurts, as I go, like a "P" of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator analysis. But on this day I was experimenting in "J"-dom and decided to knock out ALL the cleaning before noon.
Now the real funny thing that happened was that the more I cleaned, the more I wanted to clean. That is, the more I cleaned one thing/room/area, the more I noticed the comparative uncleanness of the adjacent thing/room/area. It was an eerily powerful motivator. And it wasn't even as if I thought, "I should really do that, too," it was a deeper pull of obligation to apply the new standard uniformly.
And of course I thought of it as a spiritual metaphor.
I distinctly remember sweeping a corner of the kitchen, looking at the winter-wear basket on the floor (and deciding whether I would lift it up to sweep under it), and thinking that this is just how it feels as the Holy Spirit cleans up our lives. As time passes and the Lord refines us, the comparative "uncleanness" or dirtiness of adjacent areas becomes clearer and painfully undeniable. It looks dirtier next to something clean. We begin to wish to have the new standard applied uniformly. (One of the best ways to find out how dirty your hands are is to look at a full pack of cards after you've put the Euchre deck back.)
As a new Christian, I actually didn't think there was very much wrong with me. I still believed the "good person" lie, and thought I was roughly equal to the other Christians I knew. But slowly, faithfully, inescapably, and squirmingly, God the Holy Spirit has shown me more and more of how foul I really am.
Yesterday's sermon spent some time describing the great joy and peace that comes from God knowing those who are His. This is the kind of knowing that is intimate and experiential, not a mere awareness of our existence. Because of this, He knows all our sin--all of it. Because of this, He was able to pay for it all. That's a glorious thing--I really believe it is. But, as I was listening, I felt like I understood the ugly backdrop to what the preacher meant and what he was feeling though there are no words to articulate all of it.
We are so gross.
We are so gross,
we are so gross,
we are so gross.
As he spoke to us and told us how great it is that Jesus knows it all since that means we can have complete, iron-clad assurance [read: confidence one puts in a bungee jumping teacher] that Jesus paid it all, he seemed relieved and moved. He told us it was his great joy and his great hope. But he also seemed to know something of what the Omniscient Lord sees. He seemed to know that what had been revealed to him up to this point in his Christian life was disgusting enough but that God knew how much worse it truly was. We can only be so thankful and marvel so much at God's grace if we know how ill-deserving we are.
As I sat and listened, I thought I might start to cry. I just felt so dirty. I felt so much of my sinfulness that it turned my stomach. It's really bad and it's worse than I can fathom. I'm so sorry.
---
Later in the day I was feasting in Deuteronomy. I found these remarkable gems.
1) I can't give you the context of the preceding three books of the Bible but I can hope you know enough about Moses' time as leader of the Israelites and you know some of what the LORD did for Israel during that time. At the very least there was the exodus from slavery in Egypt (some of that by a miraculous parting of a sea so Israel could walk through on dry land). There was also God not killing them when they rebelled against Him.. there was Him choosing to dwell among them.. there was Him giving them a way to make atonement for their sins through animal sacrifice...there was also all His covenantal faithfulness...there was the gift of Passover and the gift of the Law...and there was Him delivering enemies into Israel's hands, among other things.
(I'll leave two verses of mini context for my passage.)
At that time I [Moses] commanded Joshua: "You have seen with your own eyes all that the LORD your God has done to these two kings. The LORD will do the same to all the kingdoms over there where you are going. Do not be afraid of them; the LORD your God himself will fight for you."
At that time I pleaded with the LORD: "Sovereign LORD, you have begun to show your servant your greatness and your strong hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do the deeds and mighty works you do?" (Deuteronomy 3:21-24)
Moses must really get it. After all he has seen, he says here at the end of his 120-year life, "Sovereign LORD, you have begun to show your servant your greatness and your strong hand." He has only begun! Just imagine how great this means the rest of God is!
2) For this one I don't really have commentary. It's just a fantastic, gripping, exultant passage.
To the LORD your God belong the heavens, even the highest heavens, the earth and everything in it. Yet the LORD set his affection on your ancestors and loved them, and he chose you, their descendants, above all the nations--as it is today. Circumcise your hearts, therefore, and do not be stiff-necked any longer. For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt. Fear the LORD your God and serve him. Hold fast to him and take your oaths in his name. He is the one you praise; he is your God, who performed for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes. Your ancestors who went down into Egypt were seventy in all, and now the LORD your God has made you as numerous as the stars in the sky. (10:14-22)
3) What I noticed in this passage was like finding a note in the bottom of your lunch bag, sneakily placed there by the person who kindly packed it for you.
No Ammonite or Moabite or any of their descendants may enter the assembly of the LORD, not even in the tenth generation. For they did not come to meet you with bread and water on your way when you came out of Egypt, and they hired Balaam son of Beor from Pethor in Aram Naharaim to pronounce a curse on you. However the LORD your God would not listen to Balaam but turned the curse into a blessing for you, because the LORD your God loves you. Do not seek a treaty of friendship with them as long as you live. (23:3-6)
I think I did a double-take when I read "because the LORD your God loves you" in the same way people in the movies gawk and sputter when their significant other says, "I love you," for the first time but doesn't realise it has slipped out. I think that steeping in the OT for the past two weeks made me expect Moses to say, "because the LORD swore an oath to your forefathers," or, "because the LORD's anger was aroused," or, "because the LORD is holy and just." But... "because the LORD your God loves you"??!? How flabbergasting. I felt really shocked. It seemed quite tender. It reminded me of what Paul said to the Philippians, telling them to throw their anxieties on God because He cares for them (or, because it matters to Him about them)--not because He is powerful, but because He cares. (It is of course a colossal bonus that He is powerful AND He cares.)
--
So,
put together,
I love this great God, the LORD my God to whom belong the highest heavens,
I'm deeply ashamed of my sin and I believe it warranted death. I wish I didn't have any but I want Him to see all my sin so He can absolve me of every last item on the list. I know I will never deserve this. I know this gospel is a mystery and for that reason I love it even more.
I thank God that He cleanses us--
I thank God that He shows Himself to us--
I thank God that He fights for us, provides for us, and disciplines us--
I thank God that He sneaks love notes into our lunches!
--
I hear the Saviour say, "Thy strength indeed is small!
Child of weakness, watch and pray, find in Me thine all in all."
Lord, now indeed I find Thy pow'r and Thine alone,
can change the leper's spots and melt the heart of stone.
For nothing good have I whereby Thy grace to claim--
I'll wash my garments white in the blood of Calv'ry's Lamb.
And when before the throne I stand in Him complete,
"Jesus died my soul to save," my lips shall still repeat.
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain--He washed it white as snow.
"Jesus Paid it All" by Elvina M. Hall (Public Domain)
At the outset of the day, I had planned to clean and tidy the house so that it didn't look like I had gone full bachelor the week my housemate was away. (I had.) But a funny thing happened. As I experienced the high that comes from doing things one ought in the time-frame and manner they ought to be done, I enjoyed myself more and more. I liked seeing my work; I liked seeing the place transformed. I also liked that it was giving me CV exercise. This is all rare for me because I tend to clean/tidy in spurts, as I go, like a "P" of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator analysis. But on this day I was experimenting in "J"-dom and decided to knock out ALL the cleaning before noon.
Now the real funny thing that happened was that the more I cleaned, the more I wanted to clean. That is, the more I cleaned one thing/room/area, the more I noticed the comparative uncleanness of the adjacent thing/room/area. It was an eerily powerful motivator. And it wasn't even as if I thought, "I should really do that, too," it was a deeper pull of obligation to apply the new standard uniformly.
And of course I thought of it as a spiritual metaphor.
I distinctly remember sweeping a corner of the kitchen, looking at the winter-wear basket on the floor (and deciding whether I would lift it up to sweep under it), and thinking that this is just how it feels as the Holy Spirit cleans up our lives. As time passes and the Lord refines us, the comparative "uncleanness" or dirtiness of adjacent areas becomes clearer and painfully undeniable. It looks dirtier next to something clean. We begin to wish to have the new standard applied uniformly. (One of the best ways to find out how dirty your hands are is to look at a full pack of cards after you've put the Euchre deck back.)
As a new Christian, I actually didn't think there was very much wrong with me. I still believed the "good person" lie, and thought I was roughly equal to the other Christians I knew. But slowly, faithfully, inescapably, and squirmingly, God the Holy Spirit has shown me more and more of how foul I really am.
Yesterday's sermon spent some time describing the great joy and peace that comes from God knowing those who are His. This is the kind of knowing that is intimate and experiential, not a mere awareness of our existence. Because of this, He knows all our sin--all of it. Because of this, He was able to pay for it all. That's a glorious thing--I really believe it is. But, as I was listening, I felt like I understood the ugly backdrop to what the preacher meant and what he was feeling though there are no words to articulate all of it.
We are so gross.
We are so gross,
we are so gross,
we are so gross.
As he spoke to us and told us how great it is that Jesus knows it all since that means we can have complete, iron-clad assurance [read: confidence one puts in a bungee jumping teacher] that Jesus paid it all, he seemed relieved and moved. He told us it was his great joy and his great hope. But he also seemed to know something of what the Omniscient Lord sees. He seemed to know that what had been revealed to him up to this point in his Christian life was disgusting enough but that God knew how much worse it truly was. We can only be so thankful and marvel so much at God's grace if we know how ill-deserving we are.
As I sat and listened, I thought I might start to cry. I just felt so dirty. I felt so much of my sinfulness that it turned my stomach. It's really bad and it's worse than I can fathom. I'm so sorry.
---
Later in the day I was feasting in Deuteronomy. I found these remarkable gems.
1) I can't give you the context of the preceding three books of the Bible but I can hope you know enough about Moses' time as leader of the Israelites and you know some of what the LORD did for Israel during that time. At the very least there was the exodus from slavery in Egypt (some of that by a miraculous parting of a sea so Israel could walk through on dry land). There was also God not killing them when they rebelled against Him.. there was Him choosing to dwell among them.. there was Him giving them a way to make atonement for their sins through animal sacrifice...there was also all His covenantal faithfulness...there was the gift of Passover and the gift of the Law...and there was Him delivering enemies into Israel's hands, among other things.
(I'll leave two verses of mini context for my passage.)
At that time I [Moses] commanded Joshua: "You have seen with your own eyes all that the LORD your God has done to these two kings. The LORD will do the same to all the kingdoms over there where you are going. Do not be afraid of them; the LORD your God himself will fight for you."
At that time I pleaded with the LORD: "Sovereign LORD, you have begun to show your servant your greatness and your strong hand. For what god is there in heaven or on earth who can do the deeds and mighty works you do?" (Deuteronomy 3:21-24)
Moses must really get it. After all he has seen, he says here at the end of his 120-year life, "Sovereign LORD, you have begun to show your servant your greatness and your strong hand." He has only begun! Just imagine how great this means the rest of God is!
2) For this one I don't really have commentary. It's just a fantastic, gripping, exultant passage.
To the LORD your God belong the heavens, even the highest heavens, the earth and everything in it. Yet the LORD set his affection on your ancestors and loved them, and he chose you, their descendants, above all the nations--as it is today. Circumcise your hearts, therefore, and do not be stiff-necked any longer. For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt. Fear the LORD your God and serve him. Hold fast to him and take your oaths in his name. He is the one you praise; he is your God, who performed for you those great and awesome wonders you saw with your own eyes. Your ancestors who went down into Egypt were seventy in all, and now the LORD your God has made you as numerous as the stars in the sky. (10:14-22)
3) What I noticed in this passage was like finding a note in the bottom of your lunch bag, sneakily placed there by the person who kindly packed it for you.
No Ammonite or Moabite or any of their descendants may enter the assembly of the LORD, not even in the tenth generation. For they did not come to meet you with bread and water on your way when you came out of Egypt, and they hired Balaam son of Beor from Pethor in Aram Naharaim to pronounce a curse on you. However the LORD your God would not listen to Balaam but turned the curse into a blessing for you, because the LORD your God loves you. Do not seek a treaty of friendship with them as long as you live. (23:3-6)
I think I did a double-take when I read "because the LORD your God loves you" in the same way people in the movies gawk and sputter when their significant other says, "I love you," for the first time but doesn't realise it has slipped out. I think that steeping in the OT for the past two weeks made me expect Moses to say, "because the LORD swore an oath to your forefathers," or, "because the LORD's anger was aroused," or, "because the LORD is holy and just." But... "because the LORD your God loves you"??!? How flabbergasting. I felt really shocked. It seemed quite tender. It reminded me of what Paul said to the Philippians, telling them to throw their anxieties on God because He cares for them (or, because it matters to Him about them)--not because He is powerful, but because He cares. (It is of course a colossal bonus that He is powerful AND He cares.)
--
So,
put together,
I love this great God, the LORD my God to whom belong the highest heavens,
and I love what He did for Israel and I love what He did for me. I love that He loves me and how He loves me. He is too kind. He is bursting with compassion and majesty. He is holy and impeccable. He is beautiful, glorious, righteous, and awesome. He is so good.
I'm deeply ashamed of my sin and I believe it warranted death. I wish I didn't have any but I want Him to see all my sin so He can absolve me of every last item on the list. I know I will never deserve this. I know this gospel is a mystery and for that reason I love it even more.
I thank God that He cleanses us--
I thank God that He shows Himself to us--
I thank God that He fights for us, provides for us, and disciplines us--
I thank God that He sneaks love notes into our lunches!
Oh, praise the One who paid my debt
and raised this life up from the dead!
--
I hear the Saviour say, "Thy strength indeed is small!
Child of weakness, watch and pray, find in Me thine all in all."
Lord, now indeed I find Thy pow'r and Thine alone,
can change the leper's spots and melt the heart of stone.
For nothing good have I whereby Thy grace to claim--
I'll wash my garments white in the blood of Calv'ry's Lamb.
And when before the throne I stand in Him complete,
"Jesus died my soul to save," my lips shall still repeat.
Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain--He washed it white as snow.
"Jesus Paid it All" by Elvina M. Hall (Public Domain)
Saturday, 25 July 2015
movement of Jah people
(1)
When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, they gathered around Aaron and said, "Come, make us gods who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who brought us up out of Egypt, we don't know what has happened to him."
Aaron answered them, "Take off the gold earrings that your wives, your sons and your daughters are wearing, and bring them to me." So all the people took off their earrings and brought them to Aaron. He took what they handed him and made it into an idol cast in the shape of a calf, fashioning it with a tool. Then they said, "These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt."
When Aaron saw this, he built an altar in front of the calf and announced, "Tomorrow there will be a festival to the LORD." So the next day the people rose early and sacrificed burnt offerings and presented fellowship offerings. Afterward they sat down to eat and drink and got up to indulge in revelry.
Then the LORD said to Moses, "Go down, because your people, whom you brought up out of Egypt, have become corrupt. They have been quick to turn away from what I commanded them and have made themselves an idol cast in the shape of a calf. They have bowed down to it and sacrificed to it and have said, 'These are your gods, Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.'" (Exodus 32:1-7)
Yesterday evening this story struck me anew. I noticed that the Israelites not only looked for an idol but looked for an idol to credit for their emancipation. It's so interesting to me. They know they want someone to worship, they know they've been freed miraculously, they know their God said He would bring them into the land He promised on oath to their ancestors. The human heart seems to be forever making God-replicas and God-compromises.
The story bothers me because Israel saw God free them. He heard their cry, He sent a leader to petition the king of Egypt, He sent plagues to show His glory and to destroy Egypt's land and livestock, He gave Israel the Passover, He brought them out, He (non-figuratively) split a sea to make a pathway, He gave them bread every morning, He gave them quail, He gave them water from a rock... He said He would be their God... and yet... "Come, make us gods who will go before us." I'm disgusted with ourselves. I have the very same heart. I have seen God free me. He went to the cross with a perfect life, carrying my sin and atoning for it all, then rising to everlasting life. He did all that and I saw it.. I see the new life in me. And yet... I make my own idols and say they went to the cross for me.
God have mercy.
(2)
We really do need His mercy. Behold:
Moses saw that the people were running wild and that Aaron had let them get out of control and so become a laughingstock to their enemies. So he stood at the entrance of the camp and said, "Whoever is for the LORD, come to me," and all the Levites rallied to him.
Then he said to them, "This is what the LORD, the God of Israel, says: 'Each man strap a sword to his side. Go back and forth through the camp from one end o the other, each killing his brother and friend and neighbor.'" The Levites did as Moses commanded, and that day about three thousand of the people died. Then Moses said, "You have been set apart to the LORD today, for you were against your own sons and brothers, and he has blessed you this day." (Exodus 32:25-29)
My words are failing to express the gravity here.
(3)
The next part made me very grateful that I live in the New Covenant.
The next day Moses said to the people, "You have committed a great sin. But now I will go up to the LORD; perhaps I can make atonement for your sin."
So Moses went back to the LORD and said, "Oh, what a great sin these people have committed! they have made themselves gods of gold. But now, please forgive their sin--but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written." (Exodus 32:30-31)
It's the "perhaps" that got me, and Moses as advocate.
Instead, this is where I live:
For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and in Christ you have been brought to fullness. he is the head over every power and authority. In him you were also circumcised with a circumcision not performed by human hands. Your whole self ruled by the flesh was put off when you were circumcised by Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead.
When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross. And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross. (Colossians 2:9-15)
(4)
And finally, a word on my shock and disappointment that Aaron was so easily won over and corrupted. Perhaps I am unfairly judging him more harshly than I would someone who hadn't been so close to Moses and so close to God and so instrumental in Israel's exodus. Perhaps I underestimate the pressure of a large, impatient crowd. It's also disappointing that Aaron later tried to minimize his involvement, claiming that he threw the gold into the fire "and then out came this calf!" (It seems he lied.)
But... a few chapters before, the LORD was giving the law and commands to Moses to bring down to the people. And the LORD, who is omniscient and does not make mistakes, says this:
"Have Aaron your brother brought to you from among the Israelites, along with his sons, Nadab and Abihu, Eleazar and Ithamar, so they may serve me as priests. Make sacred garments for your brother Aaron to give him dignity and honor." And later: "Make a plate of pure gold and engrave on it as on a seal: HOLY TO THE LORD. Fasten a blue cord to it to attach it to the turban; it is to be on the front of the turban. It will be on Aaron's forehead, and he will bear the guilt involved in the sacred gifts the Israelites consecrate, whatever their gifts may be. It will be on Aaron's forehead continually so that they will be acceptable to the LORD." (Exodus 28:1-2, 36-38)
The man who would be responsible for fashioning a calf idol for Israel to worship en lieu of God is the same man chosen to be a priest, chosen to be consecrated, permitted to enter the Most Holy Place on behalf of his people--the man somehow made acceptable to enter God's presence and not die.
God knew. And God picked Aaron for this honor. To be the representative for God to the people and for the people to God. This is the idol-maker. Perhaps there is hope for the rest of us after all!
As you come to him, the living Stone--rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him-- you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says:
"See, I lay a stone in Zion,
a chosen and precious cornerstone,
and the one who trusts in him
will never be put to shame."
Now to you who believe, this stone is precious. But to those who do not believe,
"The stone the builders rejected
has become the cornerstone,"
and,
"A stone that causes people to stumble
and a rock that makes them fall."
They stumble because they disobey the message--which is also what they were destined for.
But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (I Peter 2:4-10)
I don't even know how to say it. It's such Good News and such a good God.
Tuesday, 21 July 2015
growing, stretching, learning, going
After a couple months of knowing, planning, processing, aiding, contemplating, gearing up, walking with...
As the weeks passed there was informing, getting blessing, getting permission, getting backing, getting support, getting funding, finishing paperwork, finishing other paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, paperwork (and no, you can't help me with any of it)...
There was sharing and adapting, there was a new language foray, a new lifestyle considered, there was endless juggling and balancing...
I was here and I grew more accustomed to the idea with each passing conversation or meltdown...
I tried to be the sounding board and the voice of reality checks; the available and encouraging, and the "you-can-do-this" urger when you want to quit...
And then on the last day, YOU were more ready than I ever could be. You called me at midnight before your 5am flight and you sounded lighter than you've sounded in two months. God got you there. He did! He moulded [grinded?] you into the servant you needed to be before you boarded that plane to be at His disposal doing work firmly outside your comfort zone.
And so the tables turned. It was me who needed consoling in the final moments. It was me who somehow managed to say those three words that I know you know are true and that you'd never push me to speak but I finally felt like I could really say it and mean it and not temper it. I love you, too. I don't say those words to friends but you seem safe. You also pursued me and stuck with me like very few others have. God used you to change me profoundly. You are a dear, dear friend. (I know you're dear because I don't know why you're dear. I don't know how we got together. I don't know why we work. The Lord assembled this pair.)
I woke up at 4.30 this morning. It might have been from stomach pain, it might have been from a dry cough, it might have been from a mind that couldn't stay un-whirring for more than four hours. I think I've been generally stressed out lately, finding it difficult to slow moments down and get peace, get grounded. But most of all, by the time 5am hit, I realised that the easily spoken and easily understood statement "I'm going to go to [Country X] for a year" had grown from a mild-mannered snowflake months ago into a grizzly Abominable Snowman today. He was here, looming. He was real. Words of future intent have become unavoidable present reality.
And so at nine minutes after five in the morning, knowing it was only so long before text-messaging became prohibitively expensive, I wrote you this:
"In this moment I realise I'm Samwise Gamgee because I am trying to climb into the boat with you."
I wanted to be the hip-attached companion-slash-bodyguard who bore as much of the journey's load as she could. I wanted to go. I wanted to bridge and to bear and be only faithful. But I know the call and the responsibility are Frodo's.
I also know that, quite different from Tolkien's characters, she has the best companion-slash-bodyguard-slash-provider-slash-comfort-slash-help-slash-strength-slash-love imaginable. Actually, YHWH is better than the human mind is capable of imagining. And He goes with us on the quests he assigns us. He calls us to things we can't do on our own and then we call on Him to enable us.
In this situation, I can only be Jonathan, not David or the Lord. The Lord is great and He will have His way in all things.
You go, girl.
Soli Deo Gloria.
As the weeks passed there was informing, getting blessing, getting permission, getting backing, getting support, getting funding, finishing paperwork, finishing other paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, paperwork (and no, you can't help me with any of it)...
There was sharing and adapting, there was a new language foray, a new lifestyle considered, there was endless juggling and balancing...
I was here and I grew more accustomed to the idea with each passing conversation or meltdown...
I tried to be the sounding board and the voice of reality checks; the available and encouraging, and the "you-can-do-this" urger when you want to quit...
And then on the last day, YOU were more ready than I ever could be. You called me at midnight before your 5am flight and you sounded lighter than you've sounded in two months. God got you there. He did! He moulded [grinded?] you into the servant you needed to be before you boarded that plane to be at His disposal doing work firmly outside your comfort zone.
And so the tables turned. It was me who needed consoling in the final moments. It was me who somehow managed to say those three words that I know you know are true and that you'd never push me to speak but I finally felt like I could really say it and mean it and not temper it. I love you, too. I don't say those words to friends but you seem safe. You also pursued me and stuck with me like very few others have. God used you to change me profoundly. You are a dear, dear friend. (I know you're dear because I don't know why you're dear. I don't know how we got together. I don't know why we work. The Lord assembled this pair.)
I woke up at 4.30 this morning. It might have been from stomach pain, it might have been from a dry cough, it might have been from a mind that couldn't stay un-whirring for more than four hours. I think I've been generally stressed out lately, finding it difficult to slow moments down and get peace, get grounded. But most of all, by the time 5am hit, I realised that the easily spoken and easily understood statement "I'm going to go to [Country X] for a year" had grown from a mild-mannered snowflake months ago into a grizzly Abominable Snowman today. He was here, looming. He was real. Words of future intent have become unavoidable present reality.
And so at nine minutes after five in the morning, knowing it was only so long before text-messaging became prohibitively expensive, I wrote you this:
"In this moment I realise I'm Samwise Gamgee because I am trying to climb into the boat with you."
I wanted to be the hip-attached companion-slash-bodyguard who bore as much of the journey's load as she could. I wanted to go. I wanted to bridge and to bear and be only faithful. But I know the call and the responsibility are Frodo's.
I also know that, quite different from Tolkien's characters, she has the best companion-slash-bodyguard-slash-provider-slash-comfort-slash-help-slash-strength-slash-love imaginable. Actually, YHWH is better than the human mind is capable of imagining. And He goes with us on the quests he assigns us. He calls us to things we can't do on our own and then we call on Him to enable us.
In this situation, I can only be Jonathan, not David or the Lord. The Lord is great and He will have His way in all things.
You go, girl.
Soli Deo Gloria.
Friday, 17 July 2015
This.
Something that I seem to have missed every other time I read Genesis.
Now Sarai, Abram's wife, had borne him no children. But she had an Egyptian slave named Hagar; so she said to Abram, "The LORD has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her."
Abram agreed to what Sarai said. So after Abram had been living in Canaan ten years, Sarai his wife took her Egyptian slave Hagar and gave her to her husband to be his wife. He slept with Hagar, and she conceived.
When she knew she was pregnant, she began to despise her mistress. Then Sarai said to Abram, "You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering. I put my slave in your arms, and now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me. May the LORD judge between you and me."
"Your slave is in your hands," Abram said. "Do with her whatever you think best." Then Sarai mistreated Hagar; so she fled from her.
The angel of the LORD found Hagar near a spring in the desert; it was the spring that is beside the road to Shur. And he said, "Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?"
"I'm running away from my mistress Sarai," she answered.
Then the angel of the LORD told her, "Go back to your mistress and submit to her." The angel added, "I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count."
The angel of the LORD also said to her:
"You are now pregnant
and you will give birth to a son.
You shall name him Ishmael,
for the LORD has heard of your misery.
He will be a wild donkey of a man;
his hand will be against everyone
and everyone's hand against him,
and he will live in hostility
toward all his brothers."
She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." That is why the well was called Beer Lahai Roi; it is still there, between Kadesh and Bered. (16:1-14)
I'm now realising the sad irony that I've ignored or dismissed Hagar's story up til now.
I found it so beautiful how she named the LORD. I guess there's something inherently intimate about naming someone, and I don't think I had even considered before that she had a relationship with Him. I don't think I ever noticed or appreciated His tender, attentive care for her and her son.
"Go back to a difficult situation, where you are mistreated and alone. I will bless you.
"I have heard of your misery--yes, you, Hagar.
"I already know your son and I know you. I will watch over you."
Hagar gives the LORD the name "You are the God who sees me" (which I can only assume sounds delicious in Hebrew) because she's had Psalm 8 and Psalm 121 written on her heart.
And more amazing or more emphatic she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." What else could a single, working-poor mom need to help her get through the day(s)? She has seen the God who sees her.
LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
in the heavens.
Through the praise of children and infants
you have established a stronghold against your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?
I lift up my eyes to the mountains--
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
The LORD will keep you from all harm--
he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forever more.
Psalm 8:1-4; 121:1-2, 7-8
Now Sarai, Abram's wife, had borne him no children. But she had an Egyptian slave named Hagar; so she said to Abram, "The LORD has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her."
Abram agreed to what Sarai said. So after Abram had been living in Canaan ten years, Sarai his wife took her Egyptian slave Hagar and gave her to her husband to be his wife. He slept with Hagar, and she conceived.
When she knew she was pregnant, she began to despise her mistress. Then Sarai said to Abram, "You are responsible for the wrong I am suffering. I put my slave in your arms, and now that she knows she is pregnant, she despises me. May the LORD judge between you and me."
"Your slave is in your hands," Abram said. "Do with her whatever you think best." Then Sarai mistreated Hagar; so she fled from her.
The angel of the LORD found Hagar near a spring in the desert; it was the spring that is beside the road to Shur. And he said, "Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?"
"I'm running away from my mistress Sarai," she answered.
Then the angel of the LORD told her, "Go back to your mistress and submit to her." The angel added, "I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count."
The angel of the LORD also said to her:
"You are now pregnant
and you will give birth to a son.
You shall name him Ishmael,
for the LORD has heard of your misery.
He will be a wild donkey of a man;
his hand will be against everyone
and everyone's hand against him,
and he will live in hostility
toward all his brothers."
She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." That is why the well was called Beer Lahai Roi; it is still there, between Kadesh and Bered. (16:1-14)
I'm now realising the sad irony that I've ignored or dismissed Hagar's story up til now.
I found it so beautiful how she named the LORD. I guess there's something inherently intimate about naming someone, and I don't think I had even considered before that she had a relationship with Him. I don't think I ever noticed or appreciated His tender, attentive care for her and her son.
"Go back to a difficult situation, where you are mistreated and alone. I will bless you.
"I have heard of your misery--yes, you, Hagar.
"I already know your son and I know you. I will watch over you."
Hagar gives the LORD the name "You are the God who sees me" (which I can only assume sounds delicious in Hebrew) because she's had Psalm 8 and Psalm 121 written on her heart.
And more amazing or more emphatic she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." What else could a single, working-poor mom need to help her get through the day(s)? She has seen the God who sees her.
LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory
in the heavens.
Through the praise of children and infants
you have established a stronghold against your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.
When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
human beings that you care for them?
I lift up my eyes to the mountains--
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
The LORD will keep you from all harm--
he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forever more.
Psalm 8:1-4; 121:1-2, 7-8
Monday, 13 July 2015
The afternoon of Sunday, 21 June, 2015:
(Father's Day)
I couldn't call him so I tried to pray for him and I ended up building this soft mountain.
Sovereign LORD, You alone know.
Saturday, 11 July 2015
Rejoinder: Remain.
"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples."
John 15:1-8
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples."
John 15:1-8
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