it's all about me... right?

My small group has been reading through Isaiah. We've been especially struck by how much God hates pride, His condemnation of those who live as though there’s nothing wrong when things are very wrong, and our smug self-centeredness. In addition, I’ve been feeling somewhat fearful about the future of our nation. Conservatives forecast dark days ahead and their predictions can discourage even the most optimistic among us (which I am not!). On top of the economy, the war in Iraq, our lingering presence in Afghanistan, the tension between Iran and Israel, the elections, and the doom of the first half of Isaiah (we discussed 15-24, last night), for the last week I’ve been making my way through a video on the early Church. Yesterday it concluded with the crucifixion of Peter, beheading of Paul, children being fed to dogs, and the general persecution of Roman Christians under Nero. And I became very afraid (not to mention that when I fell down the stairs, last month, I was faced with my wimpishly low pain tolerance. I remember sitting in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, trying to steady my breathing, and thinking that I'd totally renounce Christ if ever tortured, and that I'd never manage to have a child without an epidural).

And then like a brick it hit me that the persecution I feared for the future is a present reality for much of the Christian world. Present. Meaning that it’s happening now. Happening not even to strangers, but to my “brothers and sisters.” Yet I don’t really care because it doesn’t affect me, personally. In Amos 6:1-7, God challenges His people (who are currently living comfortably in Jerusalem and Samaria) to look around them at the cities that have already fallen to the Assyrians. “Do you really think you’re so much stronger than them?” God asks. “Hello! If they’ve already been destroyed, why in the world are you still thinking that nothing bad is going to come to you?” (my paraphrase). He then condemns them for going about their lives- enjoying nice furniture, eating good food, buying non-essentials like nice lotion- not caring about everything that’s happening all around them, because they aren’t personally experiencing pain. Yet. For their complacency, God says that they will be the first to be taken into exile.

In Isaiah 22:12-13 and then 24:7-8, God seems to be critical of those who are enjoying this life. But God gave us all of these good gifts, right? Doesn’t that mean we should just enjoy them and be grateful? But then I thought about James 4:9: “Be wretched and mourn and weep. Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom.” That sounds a lot like these verses in Isaiah. But why? Again, He created a good world for us to enjoy, right? I was so confused. And then it hit me: right now, the world is NOT good. Right now God has permitted evil to reign and the whole creation is under a curse. Right now, I think I’d have to agree with God’s state-of-the-world address in 24:5- “The earth is also polluted by its inhabitants, for they transgressed laws, violated statutes, broke the everlasting covenant.” And then all of the sudden the beatitudes made sense to me, for the first time in my entire life (italics are my additions):

Blessed are the poor in spirit who walk humbly before God- for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn that this is NOT the way things are supposed to be- for they will be comforted when all things are made new.

Blessed are the meek who are unassuming, don’t demand their rights, and humbly serve one another, following the example of their Master- for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness to govern this earth- not just personal holiness, but the righteousness and justice upon which the world was founded. Blessed are they who long to see justice come to those who abuse power and wealth to oppress others because they think that no one will stop them. Blessed are they who recognize that there are limits to the laws of supply and demand, that the invisible hand does not inevitably provide for the needs of societies’ most vulnerable members. Blessed are they who long for an equitable distribution of the earth’s resources- for they will be filled when the Lord judges the earth, which He certainly will do.

Blessed are the merciful who extend mercy to the undeserving, because they understand the extent to which God has had mercy on them- for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart who are not distracted and seduced by their natural desires, but wholeheartedly want to see God’s kingdom come. This includes seeking God’s kingdom MORE than personal comfort- for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers who walk in their Father’s footsteps of working for peace and reconciliation- for they will be called sons of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake- for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

We are supposed to be living as foreigners, here. We are aliens. This is not our home. This is not the way life was supposed to be. We close our eyes to the injustices and pain of the world, much as the Israelites did when the surrounding nations were being crushed by Assyria. We turn off the news because we don’t want to hear any more about wars and rumors of wars in the Balkans, suicide bombings in the Middle East, stonings in Africa, hostages taken by terrorists, aid-workers killed by radicals, converts mutilated by family members, pastors’ families beaten with iron rods by the governing authorities, Church leaders being sentenced to years of reeducation in labor camps, and Christian schools collapsing on hundreds of children. We turn our heads, close our eyes, turn off the television, and forget about it all. We lay down on our beds inlaid with ivory, eat our choice meats, drink our wine, use our lotions, and refuse to create space in our hearts to mourn for Jacob. Because the destruction has yet to reach our front door, we ignore it and enjoy our lives, pretending that we are living in the good world that God intended. But we’re not. I don’t have the answers. I don’t know how we should live when our brothers and sisters are suffering and we are not. But I know that we cannot continue living as if nothing is wrong. We cannot. We must not.

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out-
because I was not a communist.
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out-
because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out-
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, but I did not speak out-
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me-
and there was no one left to speak out for me.

written by Martin Niemoeller, a German Christian, in 1945

little girls?

I’m feeling nauseous. I’m SO angry. Tonight I went to the dance recital of one of my precious 6th graders. Her number was very cute, thank the Lord. She was great. The others, though, weren’t so stellar. The show opened with a group of older girls in red tangoing to “Roxanne” from Moulin Rouge. Now, I'm not criticizing the song, itself, but the context. There were LITTLE, LITTLE kids there and it was SCARY- for ME! And I'm 28! It was dark, the girls were in red, the setting of the song is in a brothel, and it was SO loud and violent sounding. I was really unnerved. Then, unbeknownst to me, one of my little 2nd graders also participated. Innocent, beautiful, full of life, precious, precious, precious 2nd grader. Her group danced to Mambo # 5. Mambo # 5! Now, a group performed that same song while I was a student at Taylor, so I know I can’t be too judgmental (though I was mad at them, too!). And honestly, it’s VERY catchy. I have a hard time not liking it, as a matter of fact. And maybe he’s not talking about getting with Jessica, Monica, Tina, Rita, Mary and all the other girls. Maybe he is really just saying that he wants to flirt with them… all night long. Maybe. So let’s say it’s a really innocent song. But come on- second graders? WHY would anybody with half a brain teach second graders to act like Cuban show girls? I mean- it was SUPER cute, if you aren’t worried about their chastity and future identity as young women. Really, it was. But is it worth it? Let the little girls be little girls, for goodness’ sake!

So I was already a bit piqued about the innocence of my precious Camilla. And then another one of our 6th graders entered as an Arabian belly dancer. Yes, that’s right. 6th grade. Arabian belly dancer. I refused to take pictures. And I gotta say- they were GOOD. They were really good. If I was a man… how can I say this… I wouldn’t have been thinking of them as the 6th grade CHILDREN that they were. That was when I felt physically ill. And honestly, the way they danced took a LOT of talent. But why in the world would you teach them to use such incredible talent for THAT? I don't know- maybe somebody could start a special pre-marital dance studio or something. But 6th graders? It was unbelievable. I left midway through. The girls I came to see had already performed and I was just done.

OK. That’s my rant. I really did try not to be judgmental. I asked myself if it were possible that cultures could celebrate the sexuality of the female body without it being sinful. I asked myself if I’m just being a prude. And then it struck me that a few of my wonderful, godly friends are dancers and have probably learned such dances. And that maybe I’d be a mom, someday, and my little girl would want to dance. And I hope she can. I wish I could dance. But would it mean that she’d be exposed to THAT? Would it be worth it? And then I thought of the time I had to decide whether I’d play a character in a high school musical that had to swear. And then I thought of Jennie, who I’m sure has had to reconcile such things. When is art just art? And when is culture just culture? And when does it not matter, that being art or culture doesn’t make it acceptable or good? I know there’s not a simple answer. Well, I don’t think there is. But if anyone has any thoughts on the topic, I’d love to hear them.




And just for the record- something that struck me several weeks ago- it’s interesting to me how our society both advertises women’s sexuality and complains that they are objectified. Hmmm. Which do we want people to notice about us- our bodies or our brains? Because they sure won’t be struck by our brains on first glance. Unless we’re frumpy. Then they may assume we’re really smart. I ask because it seems a bit inconsistent to draw their attention to our sexuality while demanding that they treat us as asexual beings. If we want an egalitarian society, than maybe we should consider not running around half naked. And men- if you really want to be liberated... or liberating... why not make a conscious decision not to give special treatment or attention to the hot girls? Just a random thought from a boring Puritan.

Let us Rejoice and be Glad

Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the LORD is the great God, the great King above all gods. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the LORD our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care. Psalm 95

Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all the earth. Sing to the LORD, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples. For great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; he is to be feared above all gods. For all the gods of the nations are idols, but the LORD made the heavens. Splendor and majesty are before him; strength and glory are in his sanctuary. Ascribe to the LORD, O families of nations, ascribe to the LORD glory and strength. Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name; bring an offering and come into his courts. Worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness; tremble before him, all the earth. Say among the nations, "The LORD reigns." The world is firmly established, it cannot be moved; he will judge the peoples with equity. Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it; let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy; they will sing before the LORD, for he comes, he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples in his truth. Psalm 96


This morning, let us praise the Lord and rejoice in the day that He has made. Let us thank Him for setting Barak Obama before us as our president. Let us thank Him for sovereignty placing this man in this position at this time. Some of us wanted him to win. Others did not. Let us thank Him that we live in a democracy and had the opportunity to make our voices heard. But now the choice has been made, so let us thank the Lord and honor our government. We prayed that His will would be done. And it was. For those of us who believed that God’s will was to elect McCain, and cannot imagine otherwise, are we really claiming to know the mind of God? Obviously, His will was for Obama. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and His ways higher than our ways. For there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. It is inconsistent to call ourselves Bible-believing Christians if we refuse to believe that God willed Barak Obama into office. And if we fail to honor and respect him, we are disobeying the express Word of God. If God calls us to serve as prophets in our nation, may we be faithful to that call. But may we refuse to be agents of self-fulfilling prophesy and naysaying. If Obama appoints liberal judges to the Supreme Court, let us thank the Lord that he holds in His hand the heart of the king. If American professionals are forced to choose between their convictions and their jobs, let us thank the Lord for the opportunity to suffer with Jesus’ body all around the world, that we may, someday, share in His glory. If life gets harder, let us rejoice that trouble produces perseverance and we know that nothing can separate us from the Love of God that is in Jesus Christ our Lord. Let us do everything without complaining or arguing, that we may be blameless and pure children of God, without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which we may shine like stars in the universe as we hold out the word of life. So let us keep a tight reign on our tongues and meditate upon that which we learned in kindergarten: if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. But no worries. We have lots of nice things to say, because the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.

Knowing

Wow. I haven't been a very good blogger, lately. It's not that there's nothing to say... it's just that I haven't had the words or creativity to say any of it. Something's coming, though, I can feel it brewing. Sometime in the next few months, I'll be writing about the Emergent Church, specifically reviewing what I remember of Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis and Brian McClaren's A New Kind of Christian. We had an incredible, incredible SIM women's retreat, this last weekend, and talked about it, a bit, so I'd like to articulate some thoughts. But I can't be bothered with all of that, just yet, because I'm into all of the end-of-the-school year jazz, end-of-Paraguay-jazz, preparing-for-the-next-step-jazz (i.e. grad school applications and car shopping), reading up on election news, and irresistible Skype calls. Did I mention irresistible Skype calls? And on top all that jazz, Joel Rosenberg's Dead Heat is consuming (ha!) every "spare" moment I have. But no worries. At the rate I'm going, I'll know how the world ends by tomorrow evening, at which point I may find time to blog. Until then, though, I just came across something I wrote back in March 2008 that may serve as a backdrop to the Emergent Church stuff that I post, later. Thanks for reading :)

Knowing

March 25, 2008

I used to know a lot more than I do, these days. I knew how to be a good Christian. I knew how to inductively study the Bible using the historical grammatical method. I knew the difference between inerrancy and infallibility, and how all scripture was God breathed and good for teaching, rebuking, and training in righteousness. I knew the difference between the civil, moral, and ceremonial codes of the Torah, and that we only have to follow the moral ones because we’re not a theocracy and because Jesus fulfilled the ceremonial part. I knew that God demanded the genocide of the Canaanites because of the cancerous affect their idolatry would have on the purity of Israel’s worship to YHWH. I knew that the conquest was a physical foreshadowing of God’s final judgment. I knew that Israel’s social injustice and spiritual idolatry ticked God off and sent them into exile. I knew that Ezekiel saw His glory depart and then return only with the incarnation of Jesus. I knew that the Sermon on the Mount was idealistic and impossible to keep. I knew that I was saved by grace through faith, because I had believed in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead and confessed with my mouth that He is Lord. I knew how the Church sold out during the era of Constantine. I knew that I could never participate in such things as the Crusades. I knew that Martin Luther was a hypocrite and anti-Semite. I knew that Hitler used Luther’s speeches to in support of killing off the Jews. I knew how 1948 was a fulfillment of OT prophesy. I knew, though, that God was not pleased with Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians, and would certainly hold them accountable. I knew why the US trade laws needed to be changed. I knew why debts needed to be cancelled. I knew why Christians should never be Rich in an Age of Hunger. I knew that churches shouldn’t remove people from positions of leadership because they were going through a divorce. I knew that girls should never, ever get into the horizontal position with their boyfriends. I knew that Mormans and JWs were certainly not going to heaven, themselves, and were barring multitudes from entering. I knew that missionaries should never impose their home cultures upon indigenous churches. I knew that US Christians should give all their money to starting these churches, yet shouldn’t allow them to become dependant upon foreign money. I knew that missions was to be incarnational, meaning missionaries were supposed to be poor, yet missionary children should never have to actually suffer for their parents’ choices. I knew that God willed that family always comes first. Always. I knew that I, personally, was responsible to free sex slaves in Asia, sweat shop workers in India, Israel, Palestine, coffee growers in Africa, and child soldiers in South America. And I needed to save people from AIDS. I knew so much.

Except Jesus. Sure, He was my Savior. But I didn’t know Him. Since then, everything has changed. Now, I hardly know anything. Anything. Except Jesus. Somehow, I believe that He is merciful and loves me. Somehow, I believe that this love causes Him to point out things in me that are serving as a barrier between us. Somehow, I believe that this love knows my desire to do right and know Him. Somehow, I believe that He knows that I know that I don’t know and He’s ok with that. Somehow, I believe that He knows about my craving for Him and craving for my flesh, yet my desire to let it go, yet my fear of being without it. Somehow, I believe that He is my Shepherd and will unstop my ears so that I can hear and recognize His voice. Somehow, I know that He knows I am just dust and has mercy on me, this rich, spoiled, selfish, wimp of a white girl who is desperate for Him. Somehow, I hope that He won’t let me go to hell. Somehow.

I used to have so many beliefs that tethered me to God as ropes hold a boat close to the shore. I never strayed far, and everyone thought I was really close to God. And I was, geographically. And often times in content, too. But now most of them have been compromised. In their place, God has thrown me a single chord stronger than all the others. But it’s the only one. If I lose it, I’ve got nothing else. I’m scared. And yet comforted. Let us fix our eyes, then, upon Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, who is surely able to do more than we can ask or imagine, and keep us from stumbling and present us before His glorious throne without fault and with great joy.

an ode to my sister

The following is actually something that I wrote in July '06, but in light of a few recent conversations with full-time moms, I thought I'd re-post it. You all are my heroes.

At the end of this year’s family vacation in California, I told my sister that the next blog I do would be called, An Ode to my Sister. Spending the entire week with her, her three little boys, and her husband, I was constantly awed by her selflessness. Good moms are nearly always on the clock. They don’t have the luxury of leaving their work at the office. They are always in charge. They are always Mom. Always. And the thing about my sister, is that she never ever complained. Her boys would never know they were wearing her down to the bone. She never made them feel like a burden. Never. She had amazing self-control. I can’t even begin to count the number of times my feelings of frustration and exhaustion would have gotten the best of me. But not Danielle. She always smiled. She always spoke kindly. Even on the plane ride home, after an entire week of running, she sat between her 3 and 4 year old and played with them the entire 4 hour plane ride home. She is my hero. I always talk about how I want to be more like Jesus. Well, for all of my reading, serving, presenting, and teaching, I pale in comparison to my sister, the stay-at-home-mom. And really, when I see the cost of completely giving up my comfort, time, goals, self, for the sake of others, I’m not sure I really want to be like Christ quite that badly. It’s one thing to talk about dying to Self when you know you always have the choice of whether or not you want to die. Danielle surrendered the right to chose the moment she had kids. Dying isn’t optional for her. She never just checks out and goes to her room when she needs some time alone. She’s always on the clock. Always. She is my hero.

more inspired by merton stuff

Hey, all. I just read an exciting article on BBC. In light of my last post, I thought it appropriate that I pass it on to you. Check it out and let's be sure to be lifting up the Synod, the Catholic Church, and the Italian people in prayer, this next week! Remember Isaiah 40:8- "The grass whithers and the flower fades, but the Word of the Lord stands forever."

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7653456.stm

Also, here's the amazon.com link to Merton's book, should anybody be interested. But remember my warning- it's not for the faint at heart. It probably took my 5 years to get beyond the first 50 pages! :)

http://www.amazon.com/Seven-Storey-Mountain-Thomas-Merton/dp/0156010860/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223254402&sr=8-1

merton quotes

Last week I finished a great book that I’ve been trying to find the motivation to read for several years, now. My uncle had recommended it and I’d bought it, probably back in 2002, but every time I picked it up it bored me to tears so I never made it very far. This time around, though, I couldn’t wait to read it, every night. So instead of giving a summary, which would be impossible to do, I’m just going to share a bunch of my favorite quotes. To give you a basic framework, though, this is a spiritual autobiography. Thomas Merton wrote it in his early 30s, 6 years after entering a Trappist monestary (a very strict order in the Catholic Church). Since I’m sharing so many and you may not want to read them all, I’ve put my favorites of my favorites in bold :) Now, for Merton, himself…

[Languedoc, France] was long wild with heresy, and with the fake mysticism that tore men away from the Church and from the Sacraments, and sent them into hiding to fight their way to some strange, suicidal nirvana (43).

And Catholics, thousands of Catholics everywhere, have the consummate audacity to weep and complain because God does not hear their prayers for peace, when they have neglected not only His will, but the ordinary dictates of natural reason and prudence, and let their children grow up according to the standards of a civilization of hyenas (56).

Who prayed for me? One day I shall know. But in the economy of God’s love, it is through the prayers of other men that these graces are given (109).

The love of pleasure is destined by its very nature to defeat itself and end in frustration (117).

I went into the dark, austere old church, and liked it. But I was scared to visit the monastery. I thought the monks were too busy sitting in their graves, beating themselves with disciplines (125).

But Providence, that is the love of God, is very wise in turning away from the self-will of men, and having nothing to do with them, and leaving them to their own devices, as long as they are intent on governing themselves, to show them to what depths of futility and sorrow their own helplessness is capable of dragging them (136).

I, whose chief trouble was that my soul and all its faculties were going to seed because there was nothing to control my appetites- and they were pouring themselves out in an incoherent riot of undirected passion- came to the conclusion that the cause of all my unhappiness was sex repression!... Day after day I read Freud, thinking myself to be very enlightened and scientific… I don’t know if I ever got close to needing a padded cell: but if I had ever gone crazy, I think psycho-analysis would have been the one thing chiefly responsible for it (137).

I don’t know how anybody who pretends to know anything about history can be so naïve as to suppose that after all these centuries of corrupt and imperfect social systems, there is eventually to evolve something perfect and pure out of them (150).

[I was] like so many others- a Communist in my own fancy- and I would become one of the hundreds of thousands of people living in America who are willing to buy an occasional Communist pamphlet and listen without rancor to a Communist orator, and to express open dislike of those who attack Communism, just because they are aware that there is a lot of injustice and suffering in the world, and somewhere got the idea that the Communists were the ones who were most sincerely trying to do something about it (150).

And that was the end of my days as a great revolutionary… The truth is that my inspiration to do something for the good of mankind had been pretty feeble and abstract from the start. I was still interested in doing good for only one person in the world- myself (164).

(in describing his cross country days at the university) Perhaps I would have been more of a success as a long distance runner if I had gone into training, and given up smoking and drinking, and kept regular hours (173).

The life of the soul is not knowledge, it is love, since love is the act of the supreme faculty, the will by which man is formally united to the final end of all his strivings- by which man becomes one with God (209).

How deluded we are by the clear notions we get out of books. They make us think that we really understand things of which we have no practical knowledge at all. I remember how learnedly and enthusiastically I could talk for hours about mysticism and the experimental knowledge of God [note- academically/ theologically speaking, mysticism is that part of spirituality where the individual has a personal relationship/ experience with God. Merton is here referring to what is typically assumed to be commonplace in evangelical Christianity.] and all the while I was stoking the fires of the argument with Scotch and soda… all one night we sat… in a big dark road house outside of Philadelphia, arguing and arguing about mysticism, and smoking more and more cigarettes and gradually getting drunk. Eventually, filled with enthusiasm for the purity of heart which begets the vision of God, I went on with them into the city to a big speak-easy where we completed the work of getting plastered (224).

I had come, like the Jews, through the Red Sea of Baptism. I was entering into a desert- a terribly easy and convenient desert, with all the trials tempered to my weakness- where I would have a chance to give God great glory by simply trusting and obeying Him, and walking in faith, the way that was not according to my own nature and my own judgment. It would be a land that was not like the land of Egypt from which I had come out: the land of human nature blinded and fettered by perversity and sin. It would be a land in which the work of man’s hands and man’s ingenuity counted for little or nothing, but where God would direct all things, and where I would be expected to act so much and so closely under His guidance that it would be as if He thought with my mind, as if He willed with my will. It was to this that I was called. It was for this that I had been created. It was for this Christ had died on the Cross, and for this that I was now baptized, and had within me the living Christ, melting me into Himself in the fires of His love (248).*

The only answer to the problem is grace, grace, docility to grace (225).

If you don’t want the effect, do something to remove the causes. There is no use loving the cause and fearing the effect and being surprised when the effect inevitably follows the cause (255).

There is nothing wrong in being a writer or a poet- at least I hope there is not: but the harm lies in wanting to be one for the gratification of one’s own ambitions, and merely in order to bring oneself up to the level demanded by his own internal self-idolatry (258).

“I can’t be a saint,” I said, “I can’t be a saint.” And my mind darkened with a confusion of realities and unrealities: the knowledge of my own sins, and the false humility which makes men say that they cannot do the things that they must do, cannot reach the level that they must reach: the cowardice that says: “I am satisfied to save my soul, to keep out of mortal sin,” but which means, by those words: I do not want to give up my sins and my attachments (260).

America… is a country full of people who want to be kind and pleasant and happy and love good things and serve God, but do not know how. And they do not know where to turn to find out. They are surrounded by all kinds of sources of information which only conspire to bewilder them more and more (269).

I had accepted Lax’s principle about sanctity being possible to those who willed it, and filed it away in my head with all my other priniciples- and still did nothing about using it. What was this curse that was on me, that I could not translate belief into action, and my knowledge of God into a concrete campaign for possessing Him, whom I knew to be the only true good? No, I was content to speculate and argue (265).

… the world [of 1939] had now become a picture of what the majority of its individuals had already made of their own souls. We had given our minds and our wills up to be raped and defiled by sin, by hell itself; and now, for our inexhorable instruction and reward, the whole thing was to take place all over again before our very eyes, physically and morally, in the social order, so that some of us, at least, might have some conception of what we had done (271).

Once again, classes were beginning at the university. The pleasant fall winds played in the yellowing leaves of the poplars in front of the college dormitories and many young men came out of the subways and walked earnestly and rapidly about the campus with little blue catalogues of courses under their arms, and their hearts warm with the desire to buy books (283).

The monestary is a school- a school in which we learn from God how to be happy (409).

[on the virtue of Gregorian chant] Instead of drawing you out into the open field of feelings where your enemies, the devil, and your own imagination and the inherent vulgarity of your own corrupted nature can get at you with their blades and cut you to pieces, it draws you within, where you are lulled in peace and recollection and where you find God. You rest in Him, and He heals you with His secret wisdom (417).

There was, I could see, something of a difference between the community proper and the nocices. The monds and the professed brothers were more deeply absorbed in things that the novices had not yet discovered. And yet looking around at the novices there was a greater outward appearance of piety in them- but you could sense that it was nearer the surface. It can be said, as a general rule, that the greatest saints are seldom the ones whose piety is most evident in their expression when they are kneeling at prayer, and that the holiest men in a monestary are almost never the ones who get that exalted look, on feast days, in the choir. The people who gaze up at Our Lady’s statue with glistening eyes are very often the ones with the worst tempers (420).

*When I read things like this, or the writings of the saints, and then hear my fellow (non-Catholic) believers talk about how Catholicism is an impersonal works-based religion, I want to laugh, cry, and scream at the ignorance and smug pride of this assumption. I’m sorry. I know that I’m talking to many people that I dearly love and highly RESPECT in most areas. And know that I’m not judging YOU, but this part of evangelical, Protestant Christianity in which many of us have been raised. And I know that it's really not a Protestant issue, either, but a human nature issue. That's just the way we are. So if you’ve made these kinds of statements, I don’t think it’s a reflection of your heart, but of the Christian culture in which your beliefs about God have been formed. But really, you just don’t know what you’re talking about. I used to think the same thing when my beliefs about Catholicism were based upon what I'd learned from Protestants, as opposed to from Catholics, themselves. I know I’m idealistic. And yes, there are many, many, many Catholics who haven’t a clue as to the meaning behind what they’re doing, especially in areas like Paraguay, where the entire culture is “Catholic.” But the same can be found among Protestants. But if you would read the writings of the saints of old, or get to know the nuns and monks in your area, I think you’d be very surprised, humbled, and challenged by the depth of their faith in and Love of God.

meltdown monday

Just yesterday I was talking with a fellow missionary and told her that I wasn’t ready to build a theology on some observations I’ve made about possibilities in God’s kingdom. And here I am, at 5:35 in the morning, compelled to post them on the internet for anyone and everyone to see. Lord, have mercy. Reader, consider my idea and judge it for yourself, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit and through the lens of Scripture.

By the time you read this, you will have probably already heard economists speculate that the USA is in for a major financial crisis. Maybe you’ve lost your job. Maybe you’ve lost what you’ve saved for retirement. Or maybe you were in the RV industry and lost your job, last month, and by now you’re deep in bills that you don’t know how you’re going to pay. Perhaps you’ll be redoing your budget in the coming weeks and will consider areas where you can slim down. Please don’t let giving to the poor be one of those areas. If it is, I can almost promise you that such a move would be disastrous. When we’re in financial trouble, our natural reaction is to grasp more and give less. Fight that tendency. In fact, make a conscious decision to do just the opposite. Why? Because Jesus said “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." And know that I’m not saying this as a missionary who’s worried about her support running out. I’m coming home soon. I won’t have a job. I’m in as much trouble as anyone. I do say it, though, as a young woman who’s been away from home long enough to conclude that the Bible is true, and often much more literal than what I’ve always assumed.

One of the things I’ve had to deal with, these last two years, is my response to the poor. Poverty, here, is much more visible than it is, at home, and I’m relatively richer, so I can’t ignore it like I could, before. As I said, earlier, my thoughts are nowhere near ready to confess, publicly (as I’m doing, now), but like Jeremiah, I feel that it’s burning in my bones, this morning. So, this may or not be theologically sound. Take it before the Lord and decide for yourselves. These last 2 years, I’ve concluded that I’m not responsible to judge who is and who is not worthy of my generosity. This conviction has come, largely, by an overall conviction about who God is and what His kingdom is like, but the most influential specific passage of scripture has been Luke 6:30-38. Here’s my (untheologically sound) interpretation, through the lens of the subject of giving to the poor. My commentary is in italics:

Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Seriously. Like, literally. Do to others as you would have them do to you. Not, do what’s right, but treat them how you’d want to be treated. If you were poor, would you like someone to give you stuff? You bet! If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' lend to 'sinners,' expecting to be repaid in full. Did you catch that? Lend to people even if you know you won’t be paid back? That’s crazy! Yes, but that’s the way of Jesus. Yes, that’s the way of love. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Not just lend to poor people without expecting to get anything back, but lend to your ENEMIES without expecting repayment! Then your reward in heaven will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Did you catch that? Even GOD is kind to ungrateful and wicked men. Not only is God kind to those who aren’t “good investments” but He’s also kind to ungrateful and wicked men! One of the most annoying things, here, is giving to ungrateful people who EXPECT generosity/ handouts from the rich. But GOD is kind to UNGRATERUL men! Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. This is the key- We’re to be like our Father. We’re to become conformed to the image of Jesus. And this is what Jesus and God do. Do we think God to be naive? Do we think we have a better system? Do not judge who is worthy of your generosity and you will not be judged. Do not condemn people for the unwise choices that they’ve made to get them where they are and you will not be condemned. Forgive their ungratefulness and you will be forgiven for yours. I’m being serious. Stop assuming that all of this is figurative: Give, and it will be given to you. Seriously. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. He also told them this parable: "Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit? Don’t try to discern who is worthy of your generosity, because you’ll mess up in your assessment of things. You don’t know because you still see through a glass dimly. A student is not above his teacher, If God, Himself, doesn’t withhold His generosity from the undeserving (but causes rain to fall on the righteous and unrighteous, alike), who do you think you are to do any differently? If Jesus gave generously to all without finding fault, do you really think you’re more educated or “discerning” than Him? but everyone who is fully trained will be like his teacher. Someday, when you get to heaven, you’ll join Him in judging the nations. But that’s because you’ll be like Him, then. Now, you still see through a glass, dimly. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, 'Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,' when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye. Even with financial stuff. How do you know how somebody got to be where they are? How do you know you wouldn’t do something different. DO NOT JUDGE. Instead, give generously to all without finding fault, for this is what your Father does. Be perfect, therefore, as Your heavenly Father is perfect.

So there it is. I really have nothing to say except WAKE UP, AMERICA! Not Wake Up, Walmart (Sorry, D). Wake up, United States of America. We have lived in plenty, yet we have not practiced generosity. After WW2, we were a generous nation. But since then, we have become one of the developed nations with the smallest percentage of our GDP given in foreign aid. Let me ask you a question, this morning. And please know that I’ve already asked it of myself and am begging God for a second chance. What percentage of your personal budget, above your 10% tithe, did you share with the poor, last year? The first 10% doesn’t count, as that’s a debt we owe to God, not a voluntary sharing with the poor. But of the 90% that remains, how much did you give away? We can criticize our country all we want, but since being away, I have determined wholeheartedly that God HAS blessed the USA. She DID honor Him. He HAS protected and provided for her. But what have we done with those blessings? And not just the nation, at large, but what have we, His children, done with those blessings? I fear that our time to decide may be running out. It makes me think of Jane Austin’s Sense and Sensibility, when the oldest brother is given his father’s entire inheritance, and becomes convinced that his father never intended that he share it with his less fortunate half sisters. Legally, he didn’t have to. But what’s legality among brothers? How have we, the family members with wealth, cared for God’s other children who have had to go without? And if the measure of generosity that we have used will, in fact, be measured to us, what can we expect from them, in future years?

My rich brothers and sisters, let us not clutch what we have with white and trembling fingers. Instead, let us this minute repent of our selfishness, give generously even in our poverty, and humble ourselves in acknowledgment of the mercy which brings us life.

God answers prayer

OK. So have you ever heard those stories where somebody is woken up in the middle of the night to pray for somebody else, and then found out, later, that God intervened at that exact moment in time? Well, I've been a little bit down, this month. July was absolutely incredible. I celebrated my second anniversary of coming to Paraguay, entered into my last year, here, on the field, hosted an amazing group from St. Mark, with Carol coming a week earlier and my mom and sister staying a week later, spent a wonderful week at a Spiritual Life Conference with the other missionaries, enjoyed (and stressed out over) a really successful "English Night" with my students at the school, and celebrated my 28th birthday. I think that's about all. August hasn't been quite so hot, for no circumstantial reasons at all. I think July was just so exciting that I crashed like an overstimulated baby. Besides going into the month on an emotional high, I started applying for grad school and setting ministry goals for these remaining months, here, so I think I became a little overwhelmed by the changes that are coming. Instead of trusting in the Lord's love and goodness, I'd spend a few days really struggling to get my thoughts under control and not spiral into a self-centered and faithless "the world is resting on Alyssa's shoulders and she's bound to screw it all up and who knows? maybe she's not even a Christian" realm of fear. I would try to take my thoughts captive, it was just taking a lot of effort. And when I say "crashed" let me clarify before you're tempted to send down a rescue squad- most people knew nothing about my quazi-crash. It wasn't obvious to others, but totally in my head. And it wasn't constant- just maybe 2 days/ week. Nothing serious, just discouraging.

Anyway, yesterday I admitted to my mom my frustration, and I knew she'd meant it when she promised to pray for me. Then this morning I forced myself to go on a 6 mile walk/run before church. One thing I've found is that when I'm spiraling into this kind of discouragement I've got to take care of my body. The physical and spiritual are SO closely linked! As a thinker, it's so much more natural to spend an extra hour in Bible study or prayer than to get my bootie out the door for a run. But the run is exactly what our brain chemistry needs to pull out of these tailspins. If anybody reading this is in a funk, as I like to call it, take care of your body! And this advice is not coming to you from a skinny "I love sports" exercize queen! I'm the poster child for "if I can do it anybody can do it." Get moving! Also, during my run I listened to worship music and forced myself to focus on God's goodness instead of my own limitations (again, not totally natural). Good move number two. Then church was just great. You can read about it in my other blog: http://www.paraguaydailyreflections.blogspot.com/.

But after church I discovered something that made the morning even more amazing (as if it could get any better). We took communion sometime between 10:30 and 11. Probably around 10:45, we were singing, and though I can't explain it, I knew that I was redeemed and loved by God, and that was all that mattered. God loved me. It wasn't anything crazy. It wasn't a huge aha. It was just a peace. It was as if something touched my forehead and said, "Be Still. You are loved." And somehow, I knew that it was true. This afternoon, I called my mom to tell her about all of the people who came to church, this morning, and at one point she mentioned that their Sunday School class had prayed that God would encourage my heart, this morning. Her best guess is that they were praying for me around 10:45.

SMMC trip to Paraguay

Hey, all. I thought I'd direct you to my July post the St. Mark Paraguay team blog. For those of you who don't know, I had an amazingly wonderful group of people from my home church come down in July to do a VBS for the missionary kids during our Spiritual Life Conference. I would be remiss to leave it out of my personal blog!!!

http://www.teamparaguay2008.blogspot.com/

Also, I just finished and sent out a prayer letter, last week. I'm assuming that most who find my blog will do so through my letter. But if you happen to have not received it and want to, just let me know and give me your e-mail address. Thanks!

Toilets and Sinks

This blog entry is dedicated to my father, my future husband, all single non-fix-it-people, everywhere, and Greg Stirling. Yesterday my sink wasn't draining well. After careful inspection, I unscrewed the drain, pulled it out, and stuck toothpicks down there to try and remove whatever was clogging it. I wasn't able to pull much out, so I figured it was just too deep and I'd need to find an alternative solution. Well, I'm pretty sure that's what Drain-o is for, but didn't know if they had anything like that, down here. I know I could have asked somebody, but I decided I'd try one more thing, first. So I took a guess at the most abrasive cleaning product I owned, thinking that maybe if I poured lots of down the sink, its very harshness would eat away at whatever was down there. Well, my sister dumped all of my real cleaning products when she was down here and replaced them with Shakley, and even I could surmise that natural corn and sunflower oils weren't going to cut it. So I settled on Clorox. Well, there I was, pouring bleach down my sink, when I felt my socks getting wet. I looked down, and to my horror, bleach was rushing out of cupboard! Forgetting the typical purpose of this abrasive cleaning agent (and thereby not taking off my jeans, first), I immediately got down on my hands and knees to investigate the problem under my sink, which I discovered to be a pipe that was no longer attached to the sink basin. It had a rubber ring around it that looked like it was supposed to suction on, or something, so I tried pushing really hard to make it stick, but to no avail. Concluding that the bleach must have eaten away at the adhesive, or something, I decided it was time to call in the troops. Looked apologetically at Rosie the Rivitor flexing her muscles on my wall, I admitted defeat and called up Greg Stirling. Surprisingly, the fix-it-man-hero-of-all-single-missionaries-in-Villarrica didn't really know what to tell me, except to call one of our church's elders, Elvio, who was a plumber.

So today Elvio came over. While waiting for him to come, I decided to clean my bathroom sink, because I thought I may have him look at that, too, as it also seemed to be draining slowly. Well, whenever I clean my sink, I just go ahead and clean my toilet at the same time. But today, when I lifted up the seat, I was horrified to find that it was very dirty. How embarrassing! And in my defense, I really do clean my toilet, regularly; I have too many visitors not to. There are events that occure in all of our lives which undermine our greatest attempts to maintain pristine undersides of our toilet seats. I, however, am without men or little boys in my life to regularly leave the seat up and in so doing, inadvertently alert me of such events, should they occure. Anyway, Elvio rang my bell before I'd had time to use the brush in the basin, so I just closed the lid, left the blue stuff in there (because I was going to finish the job after he left), and answered my door. Well, the sink fixing, itself, was a humiliating affair that only a single woman living in a foreign country can fully comprehend. I showed him the drain (which was still laying on the counter), and tried to explain how I'd dumped the bleach down and somehow pulled the pipe out from the sink basin. As another side note, you know how stupid you feel when trying to explain to an auto mechanic what's wrong with your car, when you don't know the words for all that stuff under the hood? Well, try it in another language. I'd tried to prepare myself by looking up words I knew I'd need, beforehand, and writing them on my white board for quick reference, but I still forgot some and sounded even more blundering helpless woman idiotlike than what I already was. Can you even imagine? So without going into great detail, I guess you're supposed to clean the pipes under your sink, somewhat regularly, and you shouldn't need to take out the drain, itself. I don't know if that's a general homeowner thing all over the world, or just here, but I hadn't done it. So there I sat while one of our church elders cleaned 18 months worth of my gunk out of the pipes. How humbling. Then, as if the whole ordeal hadn't been bad enough, he then showed me the solution to my leaking pipe problem: screw the drain back in. I guess the pipe is held up by the screw that I'd removed with the drain. I was SO embarrassed. Then Elvio asked where my bathroom was so that he could dump the dirty sink water crap (no puns intended). Oh my goodness, I can't even begin to express the depth of gratitude I felt to the good Lord, in that moment, as I lifted my freshly cleaned seat to pour the sink water down. I will conclude this blog with an excerpt from my prayer journal, tonight:

"Oh, Lord, You are so gracious and kind. There was absolutely no reason why You would have had me clean my toilet just before Elvio came, except to spare me embarrassment upon embarrassment. Oh, how You love me. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You. Oh, how I love You. Thank You."

Amendment to Image of God

I feel like such a geek posting this on myspace. But bear with me, if only for my own conscience' sake. Today while I was running, I was struck with large amounts of guilt. "Why?" you ask. Good question. I just did something that annoys the living daylights out of me when other people do it. I asserted something as if it were fact when it was really just one possible interpretation of the truth, and didn't acknowledge that to my readers. So… sorry.

Here's the thing. We're really far away from the time and culture of the Bible, right? So while we totally believe it to be true in its original intention, there's quite a bit of gray as to what that original intention really was. So biblical scholars take (among other things) what they know of the language/grammar (the words that were actually written), the language/ style (the way it was written- "was this meant to be a fairytale, poem, or documentary?" for example), and the historical context (what was going on when the words were written that would give us clues as to why they were written) to figure out what they think the original authors (both human and divine) were really trying to say. That's why you can have 10 different interpretations of the same verse of scripture. And while I certainly think there are some interpretations that do a much better job of combining these things (grammar, style, and context), I want to make sure that I never communicate that one of my interpretations of something is the way it should be interpreted. Period. And I want to always encourage those who haven't gone to Bible school to remember this as well- there are lots of interpretations. That's why it's so important to read from different points of view and then draw your conclusion based on the EVIDENCE, as opposed to what you WANT the scripture to say (which is what we're ALL tempted to do; don't let anyone tell you that he or she does it differently or without this temptation!). Does that make sense? Oh, I hope so.

Anyway- about my thing on Genesis 1-2. This gets a little heady, but my last few blogs have been light and funny, so I think I've earned the right to be somewhat intense, this time. That said, read at your own risk:) Here's what we know for sure (well, kinda- I'm not an Old Testament scholar and I don't know Hebrew. But this is what others have told me we know for sure):

*** Except for Gen 1:27, where the English says "male," the Hebrew word that the author chose to use for "man" throughout Genesis 1-2 is kind of like how we use "man" in English- it can either mean a male member of the human race, or it can refer to mankind in general. My interpretation is based on the general use of the word, in which case, it would be translated: So God says "Let us create humankind in our image, in our likeness, and let humankind rule... So God created humankind in God's image. In the image of God, God created humankind. Male and female God created humankind." Grammatically, it works.

*** Culturally, it's very possible that the authors of Genesis were familiar with the Babylonian creation story, and emphasized certain things in the Jewish story to contrast that of the Babylonians. If you want to ask me about this, I can tell you more (or you can type Babylonian creation myth into your search engine), but here are the basics that I think Genesis was trying to get across (as it relates to my study of the image of God).

1. The world was created directly through the powerful Word of God in the context of order, peace, and goodness. According to the Babylonian story, the world was created through violence and competition, by the dismembered corpse of a destructive and chaotic goddess.
2. Humans were created in God's image, and exalted as stewards of creation/ coworkers with God. According to the Babylonian story, humans were created by the gods when the gods discovered their need for menial laborers. So the gods killed one of their own (who happened to be a conspirator with the destructive, chaotic woman god whose body they'd already used to create the physical world), and used his blood to create humans.
3. Women were also created in God's image, and the first man recognized the first woman as being part of himself and necessary to himself in fulfilling his purpose in the world (notice that God's mandate to rule was given to both the man and the woman, and the emphasis on "male and female God created them"). In the Babylonian story, the female god is the chief enemy of the other gods, and represented all of the chaotic and destructive forces in the world. Kinda makes you hope you're born a boy, doesn't it?

*** OT law protects women. Yesterday I happened to be reading Deuteronomy 21-22, and was struck by the extent to which the law protected women. Typically, when a city was conquered, the men would take and rape whomever they wanted, on the spot. Hebrew law mandated that captive women be taken home, cleaned up, given new clothes, and left alone for a full month to grieve their homeland. Only after that, could the man go in and make her his wife. If he didn't like her, after that, he could free her from the marriage, but could not sell her as a slave (which was common practice), because "you have dishonored her" (meaning she wasn't just property to be had, which was the common view). Now, I sure am thankful that I wasn't a woman in that time, so I'm not supporting the forcible taking of brides. However, I sure would rather be taken by a Hebrew, under Hebrew law, than by anybody else (Deut. 21:10-14). The following chapter, then, gives laws about the consequences of having sex with an unengaged virgin (you must marry her), or an engaged virgin/ married woman (you'll be killed). Again, I'm impressed by Hebrew law's insistence that woman are not just for the enjoyment of men, but must be properly married, protected, and provided for in order for men to have the right to have sex with them.

***Jesus' example exalts women. He talked with the Samaritan woman (big no-no), had many women as followers, appeared to the women FIRST after His resurrection, and treated women with dignity and compassion on a number of occasions.

*** NT teaching frees women. Paul says that men and women are equal in Christ (Gal 3:22, 1 Cor 11:11-12). In the Greek, he refers to Phoebe as a deacon, NOT a deaconess, as our English versions translate (Rom 16:1). But it also teaches that while all are free and equal under the law of Christ, all are also responsible to voluntarily and joyfully submit to one another (Eph 5:21) and bring honor to the name of Christ. Furthermore, we are to humble ourselves before one another and not compete for equality or superiority (Phil 2:3-16, Gal 5:13-26). Therefore, while women were truly exalted, free, and equal under Christ, they were not to flaunt their freedom in ways that demonstrated arrogance, belittled men, or brought disrepute to the gospel. For example, ALL WOMEN of NT times wore head coverings and had long hair except for prostitutes. All women. Not just in the Church, but in the culture, at large. It showed that they were under the authority of their husbands and were women of propriety and purity. Prostitutes, however, and women of ill-repute wore short hair and did not wear head coverings. So it appears that the women of the Corinthian church took Paul's teaching on equality to heart and began refusing to wear the head coverings. There is no doubt that Paul teaches freedom and equality, in Christ. But freedom and equality does not give anybody the freedom to bring disrepute to Christ's name or harbor a spirit of arrogance/ rebellion. I believe this is what Paul was addressing in 1 Cor 11.

OK. Hopefully I'll be able to rest, now, guilt-free. In conclusion- I wasn't there in the garden, that day. I know that may come as a shock to those of you who think I'm pretty perfect, but it's true. Furthermore, I don't know how everything went down. But I do know that both men and women were created in His image, and I suspect that it has something to do with the complexity of the Godhead (aka. the trinity), and the perfection and beauty of God that could only be hinted at through our own diversity. However, I must also confess that there are New Testament passages that clearly speak of differences in position and rank/ authority between men and women (esp. 1 Cor 11, but also Eph 5 and 1 Tim 2:8-15). In addition to that, I think there's something to be said for the distinction between man, who was created from dust and given life through God's breath, and woman, who was also created by God but through the man's rib. I can't figure it all out. But I feel pretty confident that we were all created in God's image with some beautiful differences between us (that reflect GOD!), and then something happened to screw things up. I don't think the fall created the differences, but rather the way our selfishness and arrogance (mis)interprets those differences… blah, blah, blah. Thanks for reading. Talk to me. Maybe someday I'll write a book with your opinions and insights in itJ I certainly know of no other topic with which I've wrestled more than the original creation and design of men and women, the fall's devastating effects on our relationships, and Christ's subsequent redemption through which we can once again experience the fullness of love.

The Image of God in Gender

The Bible begins with a good, creative, beautiful, imaginative, wise, fun, all-powerful God who created the world. It says that all of God's creation was good, except for one thing. Mankind. God had purposed to make man in God's image, but it was impossible to achieve with the creation of only one person. No one person could ever bear the full image of God, because God was too complex to be expressed in a single human personality. So the perfect man that God had created, perfectly capable, confident, creative, and strong, did not and could not bear the full image of his complex Creator. So God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep, and removed one of the man's ribs. With it, God formed the female man. When the male man awoke and saw her, he recognized that he could only be complete by being together with her. He was not only missing her rib, but also her softness, gentleness, and sensitivity, complexity of feeling, simplicity of trust, and absolute fulfillment in serving others.* These things were as foreign to him as the rib that was now in her body. They had origin in him, but found life in her. She was a part of him, and he would never be whole without her. For this reason, a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife. And when the Two distinct personalities, the male and the female, came together for the first time, something entirely new was created. The two had become One flesh. And it was this new creation, this new man, this marriage of the male and female, the representation of masculine and feminine personalities of God, that could finally reflect God's full image. And with this new creation, this new man which bore the full image of God, God saw all that had been made, and it was very good.



* One of my frustrations with much that is written on the differences between men and women is the simplistic suggestion that any human being can possess 100% masculine or 100% feminine characteristics. Instead, I believe that all people are created with a unique combination of the two, which makes us bearable and functional as human beings. If any man was without some amount of gentleness and compassion, which are seen as being feminine traits, he would be a fearsome creature, indeed. And if any woman were completely devoid of rational thought, she would be annoying and helpless beyond imagination. So I see different traits of masculinity and femininity on a spectrum, with all human beings possessing some of each. For this reason, I get frustrated with books that generalize "men" and "women" because they make it so easy to both wrongly assume things about others, and feel like less of a man or less of a woman because of areas where God has blessed us with traits generally found in the opposite sex. So no individual is without aspects of masculinity and femininity, though gender certainly determines whether a person tends towards the masculine or the feminine.

** This interpretation is just that- one possible interpretation. I added an amendment to this blog, if you want more details.

Kids say the darnedest things!

Last Friday I mentioned to my 6th and 7th graders that I wouldn't be teaching, next year. I think everybody had known that, if they'd stopped to think about it, but we hadn't really ever talked about it. Well, word spread to younger siblings and cousins, and several of my third graders asked about it yesterday. I confirmed that yes, I was planning to go back to the US, next year. They couldn't quite understand why I would leave, which struck me as ironic since the question is usually why I ever came in the first place! :) So today one of my sweet third graders colored me a good-bye picture (As a side note, this is not unusual. I probably average 2 pictures a day from my second and third graders. They're very sweet. The content of this one, though, is what makes it stand out.). It will definitely make the memory box because of it's hilarity. In total seriousness, Caro wrote, "Teacher Alisa: Behold! I am sending you as sheep among wolves. Therefore, be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Chao, Teacher Alisa. Love, Caro." Whatever was going through that precious girl's head I will never know.

Then 3 hours, later, I was with my 6th and 7th graders reviewing for our big exam. They were playing a game where one student sits facing the class, while another writes a vocabulary word or phrase on the white board above his head (where he can't see it, but the rest of the group can). His team, then, tries explaining the word or phrase (using English, of course) so that he can guess it. The phrase, at hand, was "for the rest of my life." They tried telling him it meant forever, to no avail. So they started describing a wedding ceremony, where the priest asks the bride and groom to commit their lives together 'til death do they part, at which point one of the smartest, funniest, most witty kids said, "It's a really long sentence!" When I first heard it, I thought he was describing marriage as enduring punishment, but then I realized he was just referring to the length of the phrase, itself! I just laughed and laughed and laughed (to myself, of course! : )

A Realized Goal

Guarani is both the name of the second language spoken in Paraguay, as well as the name of the indigenous people that at one time covered most of Paraguay, as well as parts of Brazil, Bolivia, and Argentina. It means "forest people." Today's Paraguayans are the descendants of Guarani women and Spanish conquistadores. This cultural heritage is very important to the Paraguayan people. In addition to Guarani being one of the 2 official languages, Paraguayans have an amazing understanding of the natural healing properties of plants. They call these plants "remedios" translated remedies, and put them in their terere or mate. Terere and mate are teas made from a type of holly leaf. The yerba leaf is steeped in hot water for mate, and iced water for terere. So, back to the remedios.

In the smallest of supermarkets, a large section is devoted to at least a dozen remedios. Some of these are added just for the taste, but others are used for the medicinal benefits. You can also buy them on various street corners where indigenous people bus into the city every day to sell their wares. They also come door to door in large baskets, and can even be bought in the terminals. Somebody sets him or herself up with yerba (the holly plant), and hot or cold water (depending on the season), dozens of different remedios, and a single cup or hollowed out bull's horn, with a special metal straw called a "bombilla" that has a filter on the end (so you don't suck up the yerba and remedios- you can only drink mate or terere through these straws). You just approach these vendors, pay them a mil, and get to choose which remedio you want! Then they make you up your very own mate or terere! You drink it, of course, using the cup and bombilla that they provide. When you're done, they rinse out your cup, rinse off your metal straw, and wait to loan them out to the next customer.

Part of me is awed by their use of the remedios. Until an hour ago, another part has always been a bit skeptical. For example, yerba is a known stimulant. One time I mentioned that I was having trouble sleeping and one my friends suggested that I add some remedio to my mate before bed (I don't remember what it was). This remedio was known to induce sleep. I was just a little confused, though, about the efficacy of adding a depressant to a stimulant… I kinda laughed about it, but she was completely serious. And this young woman is very sharp. It's not like the people who use remedios are just those who don't know better. The most professional of the professional use remedios. And really, who am I to think that scientists' Pepto Bismol is superior to something already existing in nature? I'm not willing to dismiss the remedios. So anyway, I'm pretty curious about these things, so lately I've started branching out and trying to use some of them, myself. Several weeks ago, I bought some "menta'i" that I've been sucking down all day with my terere. This morning I picked up my little bag of leaves and turned it over to see what ailments I'd been relieving. And this is what I discovered, "stomach settler, stimulant, tonic and antispasm, anxiety pain, vomiting, upper repertory/ chest problems, asthma, and boosts your appetite!" WHAT? It's been boosting my appetite? Wonderful. That has always been the express goal of my life. I'm so glad to know that it's finally been realized.

Mafia

OK. Really funny story. One of the first commandments for the missionary is to never criticize one’s host culture or government. So let me be clear that this isn’t a critique on the public’s perception of political transparency, but merely a funny story.

I taught my 6th and 7th graders to play Mafia, today. Have any of you played this game? Basically, the narrator deals out one card to each player, and the cards reveal if that person is one of two mafia, the town sheriff, or the town nurse. Throughout the game townspeople keep dying and it’s the town’s job to discover and sentence the mafia, while the mafia are trying to kill everybody off without being discovered. Wow. Describing it all, I’m feeling a little guilty for teaching the game, in the first place. But not too guilty. My kids REALLY got into it and had a ton of fun, not that that should have any bearing on its appropriateness, but still:). The humor highlight for me, though, was when one of the mafia (Diego) slipped the sheriff (Esteban) a mil (money), because Esteban had found him out, and Diego was hoping to keep him quiet. Funny- I had never before considered that strategy.

Mother's Shoes

There are 3 crippled people that I know of in Villarrica, because they sit outside the grocery store and beg. The one guy is about my parents’ age, I’d guess. He’s pretty good looking. He doesn’t seem at all ashamed. His upper body is very built because his legs are deformed and he gets around by walking with his arms. Then there’s a kid in a wheelchair who sits with his mom. I think he might have cerebral palsy, but I’m not sure. The third is a heavy set woman who crawls around the dirty sidewalks outside of my apartment. I’ve been around, a few times, as she’s crossed the street, and I get embarrassed by all of the traffic that has to stop and wait for her. I never know whether I should offer to help or ignore her. I mean, what would I do to help? It’s not like I can throw her over my shoulder. But it feels wrong to just pass her and do nothing.

Paraguayans have mixed reactions to beggars. I often feel twisted up, inside, because Jesus plainly said to give generously to all who ask. But that couldn’t have been what He meant, because we know that giving to the undeserving only perpetuates the cycle of poverty, right? One time I gave somebody money and one of my Paraguayan friends told me that it is only "los malos," the bad ones, who beg. She said that "los buenos," the good ones, find other ways of surviving. They would say that the adults could get desk jobs if they wanted them, and the crippled child is probably just being exploited so that his parents don’t have to work. In Asuncion there are a ton of kids that beg, as well as mothers with babies on their hips. People tell me that I shouldn’t give them money because the kids will just take everything home to their alcoholic, abusive, and lazy parents. They say that some women actually share babies to carry when begging, because they evoke more sympathy.

It’s like that in my home culture, too. I’m always torn when I go to Chicago. I want to drop my quarters into the Styrofoam cups of those sitting alone, but usually don’t because my head tells me that the money will likely be used on more booze. However, I also know that many people’s choices are directed by unjust systems, created by the privilaged minority, that don’t give poor people many good options. And this extends to the international poor. For years I've blamed the United States’ greed for the world’s poverty, and talked a lot about social justice and unfair trade barriers. As a rich American, then, I’ve always felt exceedingly guilty for my White, American Privilage, and the extent to which I was contributing to the oppression of the poor. This guilt persuaded me to give a lot of money to the poor, but for all the wrong reasons. I gave because I was afraid of being punished for my wealth, as opposed to giving out of generosity and love. Since I felt that it was my responsibility to give but didn’t want to perpetuate bad systems, I felt burdened to discern between those who were poor because of their own choices and those who were merely victims of injustice, so that I could direct my giving, accordingly. But lately, I’ve changed my mind. I no longer feel the burden to rightly judge, because I no longer feel obligated to give.


I no longer feel obligated to give because I’ve seen both sides, now. Warning: huge and unfair generalizations coming. You will either love me or hate me based on my next paragraph. Also, the situation in Paraguay is NOT representative of the entire world, so I still believe that corrupt systems are responsible for a lot of poverty and they need to be changed, despite what I'm about to say. Now, back to blogging. I know the lives of my supporters, back home. I know of their honesty, integrity, hard work, and generosity. I also know that these values are not part of Paraguayans’ cultural heritage. They are brave, warm, flexible, and tranquilo (relaxed and fun-loving). These character traits are admirable, but not exactly wealth creating. People make choices and choices have consequences. Some people chose to work their butts off and sacrifice relationships in the process. They are relationally poor, but materially rich. Others relax and drink a lot of terere. They are relationally rich, but materially poor. Neither group should necessarily be pitied and rescued. That’s belittling because each group must be allowed to make its own choices, and accept the consequences they bring. In addition to this natural propensity toward enjoying life (as opposed to working it to death), Paraguayan leaders have never been praised for their transparency. A lot of money (not to mention people) have gotten "lost" through the years. For these reasons, I can no longer blame the US for Paraguay’s problems, or obligate my friends, back home, to provide for my friends, here. One of my young friends to whom I’ve given a lot, laughs about the fact that she cannot save money. Whenever she has a little, she spends it before the day is out. A lot of my supporters, on the other hand, aren’t impulsive spenders and do save. I cannot claim that those who have become wealthy through hard work, frugality, wisdom, and honesty (whether individuals or governments) are morally obligated to share the fruit of their labor with those who are unhappily reaping what their own hands have sown. That’s not fair.

Yet neither was it fair that God had mercy on us and became a man. I’ve always struggled to receive His grace, probably because I’ve never really given it. But I am the lazy, greedy, insolent, crippled beggar who never learns and always comes back for more. Just like Paraguay, my human culture is headed for destruction by its own doing. He wasn’t obligated to do anything about it. It wasn’t His fault that we made poor choices. We brought it upon ourselves. I brought it upon myself. He wasn’t bound by some cold theology. He didn’t have to come. Obligation cancels out love. But although He didn’t have to, God loves me and so He came, anyway. And not only did He come that once, but He keeps coming. I screw up and He still comes back. I am the one who has nothing to offer. But God still loves me. What if the Father had said to the Son, "You know what? This whole ’I’ve come for the sick/salvation by grace through faith thing’ really doesn’t give people much of an incentive to clean up their acts. Let’s scrap it and create a system in which the consequences are more reflective of their choices." But He didn’t. Though it hasn’t fit into any kind of effective model for social change, God has continuously and freely shown me love and mercy. Mercy. Free. I am that crippled beggar. But my Father sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous. And my Father pours out blessings upon ungrateful men. I am that crippled beggar, but I have been adopted. He didn’t have to and neither do I. But I want to be like my Dad, and I know no greater joy than to stumble about extending mercy like a little girl playing dress up, clumsily parading through the house in her mother’s shoes.

tag

First of all, I had posted a new blog, earlier this week, and then removed it. I’m sorry to any of you who were confused by this move. It was called Shining Like Stars and dealt with the nature of missions, salvation, and spiritual fruit. If any of you would like to read it, let me know. Secondly, I’ve been virtually tagged by my sister in Elkhart, Indiana. Have any of you been tagged, yet? I didn’t get a very clear explanation of this game, but I think it means I get to tell you 10 things that you may not know about me and then tag 5 others. OK. Here goes...

1. I pretend to be deep and into making a difference in the world. I’ve been a missionary, a teacher, and a youth pastor, and I want to be a professor of theology, someday, but my favorite job was baristaing (being a professional coffee maker) at The Crossing.
2. I was once the youngest member of the Cleveland Little League’s All Star softball team.
3. I love my balcony, especially around sunrise and in the rain. I have a hammock and homemade compost bin under the roofed portion. Next week I’m hoping to plant a balcony vegetable/ herb garden with seeds from my wonderful sister-in-law, Kristin.
4. I don’t change my sheets nearly enough. I should make a chart to remind me.
5. My favorite (and only) pieces of furniture are my extension table and spice rack that my granddad made me for college graduation, a twin bed frame, dresser, and nightstand that he made for my mom when she was little, and the bookcase that I designed and built with my dad.
6. I got detention in the 7th grade for starting a riot in PE. Our teacher, Ms. Wesdorp, hated us slamming our locker doors so several of us did it over and over again just to make her mad. She came in and only caught one girl and gave her detention. I announced that wasn’t fair because there were obviously several involved and our teacher was obviously being discriminatory. She responded that if anybody else wanted to come forward she’d gladly write them up, as well. So, full of holy justice, idealism, and insufferable insubordination, I announced that I, too, would gladly suffer her fate.
7. This may not be news to anybody, but I also sat through one or two Saturday Schools in high school for having too many tardies.
8. I’ve come to LOVE helping kids learn, especially those to whom it doesn’t come easily. When we were dividing up the English classes, this year, I volunteered for the 3rd graders, a class that has had the reputation of being incontrollable since preschool. I acted like I was being a virtuous martyr, but really I was excited about the challenge of it all.
9. I just killed a fly by clapping my hands above it the way my grandpa taught me.
10. OK, I’m back. I just took a break to go wash my hands from the fly guts. I think I’ve always repressed my secret desire to be a cheerleader, and hidden it by making fun of them, instead (my sister receiving the brunt, of course). Yesterday I taught 10 girls, ages 7-22, the "We’re Dynamite" cheer that I’ve had so much practice mocking through the years.