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Snapshots of a Sunday in my Life

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 01:16:46 GMT

A young child in his mother’s arms as she stands at the back of the church. he was a baby last year, and to my shame I cannot remember his name. His fine, blond hair has grown long enough to be cut. His bare toes curl and uncurl happily as he is held, secure in the hushed sanctuary. It’s full of people and light against the darkness outside the windows. As two of the elders walk past, they smile at him, place a hand on his head. Then they move on.

Learn the love, little one. All too soon you will be too old to be so easily held in the light. So learn the love now, and may it be used of God so that you will always be safe against a dark world, that your eyes may always remain so open and full of light.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

I tell her when I first knew, and she looks at me with confusion in her happiness. “But we weren’t then --” she protests. I laugh. I knew then, because they looked at each other with a delight and enjoyment that was both shy and bold.

She laughs too. May you always laugh, dear sister-friend. We have spoken of brokenness. You know that too. But you still hope and converse and listen and laugh. May you always be willing to do so.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

He sits across from me at dinner. He drove me crazy at first, but unknowingly I came to recognize his care and friendship for what it is, and to miss him when he was gone. Funny how that works.

Tonight (as ever) we are teasing him. He wants to know why I spoke in the language that I did, what language it was, what I was saying. But it was almost a week ago, and his pronunciation isn’t helping me out. I can picture the words -- coia and dae, but they are just sort of sitting in my brain like cold lumps of ice. They don’t make sense together as far as anything I can remember.

She reaches for a napkin and a pen to write down the words.

“It means life shadow.” Even once I was sure that was the translation of those words, I didn’t want to say it.

She puts the pen back in her pocket. “Yes it does.”

In the shadows that threaten to overwhelm and swallow our lives, may we find shelter in the refuge of of the shadow of God’s wings. Tonight I heard that proclaimed from the pulpit. We do not go through the valley of the shadow of death alone, but protected by the much greater shadow of the One who is Light.

More Thoughts on Growing Up

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 03:18:00 GMT

I've decided that growing up is a pretty weird thing. A lot of things just seem to fade off. Wiggling teeth doesn't really hold the appeal that it once did... in fact, it seems pretty gross (despite the fact that when *I* was at that stage, I was sure I'd always be cool with it!) I can't even remember the names of all the Barbie families that we had.

One example that kind of sunk this home to me was The Rebelution. It's a great forum. I love it, I support it. But... I think at some point last year... I realized, Wow, the kids on here are young. And it's not that they aren't mature, and aren't thoughtful, but it just wasn't my place anymore.

And that's not necessarily bad. It was mostly just strange. And I still check in there, making sure there are no new messages in my inbox. It's still a good place for networking (we used it for Operation Youtube this summer!) and getting ideas. But is no longer somewhere where I belong.

There are plenty of things in life like that. Places where we fit once and don't anymore. People who we once were close to and then... aren't. Nothing horrible or drastic happened.

We just grew up.

It hurts, a little. It's a little bittersweet. But it's not bad. Far better than to try to cling to it forever, as do all the Peter-Pan-wannabes, stuck forever in youth rather than willing to grow in wisdom and maturity. Far better than to never have had anything in your past that it matters that you moved on from.

So... until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. [Ephesians 4:13-16]

Murnia

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 02:22:25 GMT

Boundless the sky above Murnia
Loosed from constraints of all seeming time
Clouds scud across this steady ocean
Clearly lit blue
Turning thundercloud dark
Broken by the feet of the children who run
Cut off from peace by the blood all around
Murnia, my heart’s tears soak into your ground

I think that Murnia is one of my favorite lands in the vicinity of Lonya. I don't remember if I planned it from the beginning? I don't think that I did... I think it was just Riscon-Morg and Lonya to begin with, and that Gazigway and Murnia followed not too long after. The Murnians tended to give me some of the most surprising elements in the story. They should have been a pretty predictable bunch, but then things happened. Things like the massacre stunned me as much as the characters.

The imagery is vivid in my own mind. Declan Murtagh was the original Murnian, and I don't remember all of his family's names (there were too many. I like Jethi. Hmm... they're somewhere here on Aurens... let's see.)

Jera

Keena

Lorni

Kata

Ani

Jethi

Joca

Joci

Jetha

Vera and Lorni

Veri and Ana

Kati and Joca

Um... yeah. No wonder I didn't remember all of them. But I still remember who some of them were. None of them were particularly based on people I knew, but they all seemed real.

I like writing stories. I'd love to visit Narnia, and Middle-earth... but I would also love to visit the world around Lonya. It's a messed up place in plenty of ways -- Monrag on the loose, trying to take over the world, Nic deserting to serve Monrag, Lee constantly disappearing and reappearing... but I enjoyed it. There were always places to go and adventures to have. Not so different from real life in all of that, but safer in plenty of ways. I could shut my notebook for weeks at a time. I can always rewrite it. Not necessarily who the characters are, but I can make it make more sense to myself, which is an element of control that I don't always have.

I would have run too, from Murnia, as Jethi and the other survivors did.

But eventually, I think I'd go back. If I finish writing the story, I think that they will as well.

I'm Alive!

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 00:56:43 GMT

Well, dear reading public,
I know. It has been a long time since I posted. I'm posting right now largely because I don't really feel like writing my philosophy reflection, but I will do it after I blog.

First of all, for your enjoyment, I have typed up a bunch of quotes from my Israel class. A lot of them are Dr. W quotes. It's not my fault; he's extremely quotable.

Dr. W: [discussing Solomon's wives] "Where would you stash 900 wives?"
Zach: "In the kitchen."

Dr. C: [about the Shashu, a pastoral people] "These are people the Egyptians had fun attacking from time to time."

Dr. W: "Now the wheel concept is easy -- you have a flat disk --"

Dr. W: [about ancient Eastern laws] "If a man bites another man's nose and severs it -- we all know what problems THAT causes!"

Dr. W: [on the invention of bongos] "You know, you skin your cat, and get a coffee can, and... ... Most people don't sit around thinking, 'I'll make my pet into an instrument...'"

Dr. W: "...used for mixing stuff to put on your face -- what's it called -- cosmetics!"

Dr. W: [after giving Zach extensive directions on where to find the papyrus in his office, after he exited] “What he doesn’t know is that I have hidden a rabid dog... No, we haven’t done that for over a year now.”

Zach: “If we misspelled Hoffmeier, will we lose points?”
someone else: “Um... what if we spelled it Currid?”

“Because the Bible is historically accurate, I view it like a murder. If it really happened, there is probably evidence to be found.” ~ Dr. W, on the relation of the Bible and archeology.

[About the Gibeonites] “They jazzed themselves up, they got rotted bread... Okay, they lied, they cheated, they manipulated -- but it was for a good cause! ... You’ve got to give them points for creativity!” ~ Dr. W

Today at the museum we were getting ready to leave. Dr. S asked me to check if anyone was still in there who was supposed to leave with us.
Care to guess who?
Yep. Dr. W.
There was much laughter, and then I went back commissioned to tell him that It Was Time to Leave. He protested that we had only just BEGUN! But we had to go. Oh well.

In other news, Jordan and I have watched some anime movies. We watched Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away. We both liked Howl's Moving Castle better. :D We also watched Nanny McPhee with Rebekah... that is, Jordan slept through parts, but she had seen it before, and Rebekah and I randomly laughed at the British humor.

Tomorrow is the Reformation service, best worship service of the year! I wish that we had rather unlimited car space and could bring a TON of people along, but I am soooo glad that I get to go. *is very happy*

Autumn has launched with beautiful colors. I took some pictures today... I love photographing trees in fall. I love the way it smells. I love the weather when it is sunny. Good times all around.

Musings of 55 Minutes

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 21:25:42 GMT

It’s Friday afternoon. The large lecture room is mostly full; the empty seats signal students who have cut the class. The room is dimly lit -- light enough that there is no difficulty in seeing the person next to you, or your notes, or the person across the room from you, for that matter, but dark enough that the powerpoint shows up without problem. Funny things, powerpoints. They didn’t exist when my parents were in college, but you’d think that a lot of teachers couldn’t function without them. My thoughts wander, trying to capture the feel of it in words. It’s drowsy. Friday afternoon, dim lighting, right after lunch? That is an equation for sleep. Especially as Humanities 203 isn’t known for holding the attention of students. Of those who are still awake, most are thinking about things other than Faith and Reason in the Middle Ages. Their plans for this afternoon and weekend. The phone call they got last night.

The room is a subdued ocean of t-shirts and hoodies, jeans and sweats. Sure, this can be my culture. I’m nineteen after all, I can fit in at least decently well.

But it isn’t entirely my culture either. I have far too much distance from it to truly fit. I am not multi-cultural in terms of having lived in multiple countries. I haven’t even lived in different states. Yet there are so many cultures in this room, and I live with the knowledge that I can speak the language of many of them. The college students, that’s a big group. The C-1 girls, my floor of last year. We aren’t on the same floor or in the same building anymore, but that doesn’t stop us from eating together, or calling ourselves “C-1”, or relying on each other. Dag. There aren’t many of us in that class, but it is a culture unto itself. It is not so much of a clique that others can’t join -- I was a new student last year, and only last night found two Dag guys making room for me in a booth when I was planning to eat in my room -- but it is a culture. The post 9-11 culture.

All of these have their own rules. Some of them do not really offer a choice about joining. No one asked me if I wanted to live in a world where terrorism seems unsurprising, if still horrifying. I don’t get an option about being a college student, as long as I am on here. At least, not as long as I’m a traditional student. The older ones are stuck in an even odder position, a sort of no-man’s land. Others of them, such as Dagorhir, were not mandated. I chose Dag. I didn’t know the rules at the time. I knew the stated rules -- no head shots; you lose a leg, get down a knee; sword on head means you’re dead -- but I didn’t (and couldn’t!) know the unstated rules -- we will do other things than fight together; we will watch out for one another in many areas of life, on and off the field -- or the politics, the hierarchy of who was feuding with whom, who had dated whom... so many things to learn. And that is only one culture, and only a tiny glimpse of it.

So now, in this classroom, I remain vaguely aware of the fact that there are rivers and rivers of culture flowing through here. We sit in blue plastic seats and listen to cultures and philosophy of an older world. How many are aware of the cultures and philosophy around them?

Last year, for my big Greek exegesis project, I chose I Corinthians 13. I wasn’t really sure why I was picking that at the time, but throughout the semester, it was astonishing to see how close it ran to my own life. Love is, I wrote what felt like a thousand times. I did not add, And I am not. At least, not yet.

No. Now I sit here, wondering what the value of listening to a lecture that I already know the material for is. Wishing that instead I had the time to do the many things which seem so much more important -- readings, translation, conversations. (There are so many people, and so many conversations waiting to be had, and such limited time.) Or sleeping, something which I did not appreciate till I was in college. For all that, I trust God’s wisdom in putting me hear, and in guiding what I learn. I have seen many other times how what I felt unnecessary proved to be vital. So here I am, reviewing Anselm and Abelard and Aquinas, and waiting for the 55 minutes to run out.

But more than that, waiting for the day when I will know as I have been known.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 02:15:14 GMT

So, yes, slightly shameless of me, I know.

But these books are good, so I'll go for the double chance to win them, right? *grins*

And some of you may be interested in entering as well...

Go check out this giveaway.

:)

A Glimpse of the Way Things are Supposed to Be

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 13:56:59 GMT

So, I’m reading Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin by Cornelius Plantinga Jr. It’s incredibly good, and you should all read it -- I think it is the best anti-sin book I’ve read since The Screwtape Letters. Anti-sin = leading unto loathing of sin and striving after holiness, if read attentively and applied faithfully.

Please read it.

Also, Plantinga writes beautifully about the concept of shalom -- better, probably, than I have found it written of anywhere else. He wrote so beautifully about it that I was driven into deeper longing for Christ’s coming and the restoration of all things. Because if a fallen human can get such wonderful ideas of what the world should be like, how much greater will God’s reality be? It reminded me of Ted Dekker’s Circle Trilogy unfallen Forest.

Please read it.

But because this is my blog, and I want to share a few quotes with you, so that you can enjoy bites of the book before devouring the whole thing, here goes.

[The prophets] dreamed of a new age in which human crookedness would be straightened out, rough places made plain. The foolish would be made wise, and the wise, humble. They dreamed of a time when the deserts would flower, the mountains would run with wine, weeping would cease, and people could go to sleep without weapons on their laps. People would work in peace and work to fruitful effect. Lambs could lie down with lions. All nature would be fruitful, benign, and filled with wonder upon wonder; all humans would be knit together in brotherhood and sisterhood; and all nature and all humans would look to God, walk with God, lean toward God, and delight in God. Shouts of joy and recognition would well up from valleys and seas, from women in streets and from men on ships.

The webbing together of God, humans, and all creation in justice, fulfillment, and delight is what the Hebrew prophets call shalom. We call it peace, but it means far more than mere peace of mind or a cease-fire between enemies. In the Bible, shalom means universal flourishing, wholeness, and delight -- a rich state of affairs in which natural needs are satisfied and natural gifts fruitfully employed, a state of affairs that inspires joyful wonder as its Creator and Savior opens doors and welcomes the creature in whom he delights. Shalom, in other words, is the way things ought to be.

This reminds me of a few things. First of all, the sentence, “The foolish would be made wise, and the wise, humble” reminds me of all the fantasy which I have really loved -- first that of Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain, where I picked up The High King before reading any of the others and was thus introduced to the enchantment of fantasy which speaks truth. For Taran begins as a boy, and must grow to be a man, and must become both wise and humble. Also the Lord of the Rings saga, of course, and also the elusive Merlin -- who is, when best portrayed (and as I love him most) as wise and humble.

Aside from the fantasy, certain moments of my own life are recalled to me -- moments which feel not unlike the thrill of the wonder of the glorious beauty which I glimpse in stories such as those I mentioned. The moments which seem so inconsequential at the time, but so all important, even life shaping afterwards. Sometimes I am granted seeing while such a moment is happening that it is a beautiful thing, and can savor it all the more, to save in my memory and heart forever.

Here are two from this past spring:

“...and people could go to sleep without weapons on their laps.”
While I was at college, I learned how to fall asleep in a vast variety of places other than a bed. These included, but are not limited to: desks, floors, chairs in the library, and best of all, on the grass outside in the sunshine. I suppose this learning was helped along by the fact that I was suddenly tired for lengths of time. Also the fact that I feel very safe in the places I was sleeping.

Anyway, while I was in DC with some other students back in May, there was a random bit of time while we waited to get into the Holocaust Museum after eating lunch. And it was a beautiful day, so Josh, Keith, Samwise, Gretchen and I (I think that was the whole group that day?) went outside onto a small grassy piece of ground across from the museum. And... yes, you guessed it, I was tired. So I flopped over on the grass and went to sleep.

There was something amazing about being asleep, on the grass, in DC, and feeling safe.

(There was also something... erm... about waking up and finding that Keith had decided to arrange his socks on top of my sneakers, which were on my feet. Actually, it was quite hilarious, especially as pretty much my first thought was that this was disgusting. In a literal knee-jerk response, I kicked, which sent the sock flying through the air... and onto my hand. Worse and worse. Although that is exactly the kind of thing that made me feel safe in DC. I was with friends. I was with friends who are like family, who I think I’m already closer to than a lot of families ever are... sad, isn’t it?)

...all humans would be knit together in brotherhood and sisterhood...

Perhaps two weeks after I got to college, Rebekah and I were sitting outside talking, and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad to have an older sister. It was an astounding thought.

A spiritually sound person fits the universal design. She functions properly: in the range of her relationships to God, others, nature, and self we can spot impressive manifestations of shalom. Or, following one line of New Testament usage, we might call them impressive manifestations of hygiene.

...

What are some features of this flourishing? As Christians see her, a spiritually whole person longs in certain classic ways. She longs for God and the beauty of God, for Christ and Christlikeness, for the dynamite of Holy Spirit and spiritual maturity. She longs for spiritual hygiene itself -- and not just as a consolation prize when she cannot be rich and envied instead. She longs for other human beings: she wants to love them and to be loved by them. She hungers for social justice. She longs for nature, for its beauties and and graces, for the sheer particularity of the way of a squirrel with a nut. As we might expect, her longings dim from season to season. When they do, she longs to long again.

She is a person of character consistency, a person who rings true whenever you tap her. She keeps promises. She weeps with those who weep and, perhaps more impressively, rejoices with those who rejoice. She does all these things in ways that express her own personality and culture but also a general “mind of Christ” that is cross-culturally unmistakable.

Her motives include faith -- a quiet confidence in God and in the mercies of God that radiate from the self-giving work of Jesus Christ. She knows God is good; she also feels assured that God is good to her. Her faith secures her against the ceaseless oscillations of pride and despair familiar to every human being who has taken refuge in the cave of her own being and tried there to bury all her insecurities under a mount of achievements. When her faith slips, she retains faith enough to believe that the Spirit of God, whose presence is her renewable resource, will one day secure her faith again.

Since faith fastens on God’s benevolence, it yields gratitude, which in turn sponsors risk-taking in the service of others. Grateful people want to let themselves go; faithful people dare to do it. People tethered to God by faith can let themselves go because they know they will get themselves back.

That’s who I want to be...

The parts about faith being secure tie in well with the sermon from last night. We were looking at part of Hebrews 6. Verses 17-20 seem quite applicable: So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.

Last quote.

Discernment is a mark of wisdom: it shows a kind of attentive respect for reality. The discerning person notices the difference between things but also the connections between them. She knows creation -- what God has put together and what God has kept asunder -- and can therefore spot the fractures and alloys introduced by human violation of it... She knows that people full of shadows may also be full of a light that causes them.

...people full of shadows may also be full of a light that causes them.

Yes.

Happy Memory

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 19:38:37 GMT

I've been writing some letters to friends who have been much neglected since last year. But the happy thing is that my writing triggered a very pleasant memory. You see, I was writing about the missions trip which I was on over spring break.

And suddenly I remembered the time (late evening, I believe) when Rebekah was laying on the floor in our room by the vent. We could hear the people talking in the living room downstairs. Their voices carried easily. She was messing around, opening and closing the vent for something, and I sprawled out beside her on the floor. She looked at me with a mischievous grin. Then she began making strange sounds into the vent.

Then we were quiet, waiting to see if there was any reaction.

Then we were not quiet, because we were rolling on the floor laughing.

I don't think that anyone had even heard us, but it was absolutely hilarious.

So that is all. One memory.

(It was even more hilarious, when Dr. M, whose house we were staying at, told us the next day that someone was coming to look at her pipes because they'd been making strange noises. We looked guilty and almost choked trying to suppress laughter. We felt less guilty after we learned that they'd been doing it since well before we got there. Whew.)

Standards

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 20:31:12 GMT

My mind kind of wandered today during the last hymn (which is one of my favourite hymns):
How sweet and awesome is the place
With Christ within the doors...

I'm not exactly sure what I usually picture when singing this hymn, but today (especially after communion), I was suddenly thinking of a bride coming to her husband. Sweet, yes, and also awesome -- tinged with a righteous dread. The picture was lovely. And as I thought about it, I realized that it's going to be hard for a man to live up to that picture which I have of Christ and His church.

Oh, I know that I'm a sinner. I don't deserve to be married to a perfect man (even if I could find one!)

But at the same time, I'm HIS. I belong to the God of the universe. My Father is the King of all creation... I'm not going to run off with some bozo. My Brother, my Betrothed, is the Conqueror of Death itself.

I began thinking of other standards which I have for men. So I'll go on, chancing the sort of response which Marion is given in The Music Man.
(I know all about your standards
And if you don't mind my sayin' so
There's not a man alive
Who could hope to measure up to that blend'a
Paul Bunyan, Saint Pat and Noah Webster
You've got concocted for yourself outta your Irish imagination,
Your Iowa stubbornness, and your liberry fulla' books!)

Other images of what my husband should be...
Mr. Darcy.
Calvin.
Merlin.
Luther.
Aragorn.
Arthur.

Mr. Darcy for steadfastness. Calvin for commitment to God's word. Merlin for enchantment. Luther for reformation. Aragorn for being the Ranger-King. Arthur for High-Kingness.

Aragorn, I think, most typifies all of the characteristics, because I think that he is the most Christlike.

So then I started thinking... I'm giving some guy quite the list of men to live up to. What do I need to be asking of myself?

Am I preparing myself to be Elizabeth Bennet? Do I have the spunk and lively wit? Am I cultivating that?
How about Idelette? Most of my knowledge of her comes from Edna Gerstner's book Idelette. Am I being that Godly?
If I want Merlin, am I ready to be Nimue, to have mysteries of my own? Our culture, I think, has gotten away from that -- with feminism and the devaluing of women. Victoria's Secret leaves no kind of secrets at all, and that's a shame.
Oh, and then Katerina Von Bora! How about THAT kind of spunk and commitment to God's Word? Am I there?
Can I be Arwen to Aragorn? That wise, that patient, and that willing to give up myself for him?
And Guinevere is along the lines of what NOT to do. Since I don't want to be the unfaithful queen, what am I doing to prepare my own heart to be steadfast? Am I learning faithfulness and integrity which would keep me far from such sin?

Am I learning the things which will make me an excellent wife? Am I learning to be the Bride of Christ? Yes, I have high standards for the man who I will marry.

But I also have high standards for myself. Because God does.

What are your standards?

Quotes found scrawled in my first Hebrew notebook...

Wed, 22 Jul 2009 22:03:58 GMT

~~~From Adon C, unless otherwise specified~~~

"Hebrew is not hard. It is merely strange."

"If I know that you're working hard, I'll try to take care of you."

"The Hebrew Bible sings. And sometimes it zings."

(about how we write yod) "I don't care if it's curved or angular as long as it's small."

Dr. C: "It doubles the consonant sound."
Yisrael (Christian): "Guhguh!"

(speaking of insults) "You sorry diphthong. Don't call anyone that... please... or if you do, don't blame me!"

"Don't worry about the vocabulary, don't write it down, please don't."

"Make lots of mistakes!"

"Nuns will be assimilated!"

~~~

Hurray. I can now throw away that notebook without feeling like I am losing valuable information. :)