Previous blogs in this series:
1-- Pits, Towers, Fields and Dancing
2-- ... Thoughts on Sheep
3-- Getting out of the Towers
I'll admit, "The Shadowlands" is an ominous title for a place that many consider pretty great. But the Shadowlands is decisively what this place is called.
We know about the Valley of the Towers, and I've talked about the Fields of Grace. The Towers, remember, house people who adhere to rules, laws, and formulas with dogmatic zeal-- they're all about the black and white. Tower dwellers are good people, and I believe they are living the best way they know how-- but their lives are defined by boundaries and they're liable to look down on others for wrong-doing. The Fields of Grace, conversely, is a place of wide open freedom and ever-present love, distinguished most ostensibly by the constant presence of Christ, i.e. Jesus, i.e. the pit-helper-outer.
So where do the Shadowlands fit in?
Well, the Shadowlands is where everyone else lives.
Here are the nice features of the Shadowlands:
Anything goes. People in the Shadowlands are highly impatient with Tower-mentality; they find that sort of thinking stringent, archaic, and frankly, obnoxious. "Oh, those Tower dwellers," the Shadowlands people might say, rolling their eyes. "They sit in their lofty perches and look down on everyone here. Let them stay locked up in their towers-- so long as they stay away from ME." Outside the many entrances into The Shadowlands are giant signs, bidding you, "Welcome! Everyone! We are only intolerant of intolerance!"
And for those people who have escaped from the Towers and are looking for acceptance-- what a WELCOME message that is.
That's why, in fact, those in the Shadowlands embrace their country's title: in the Shadowlands, there is no black and white. There are only variant shades of gray, of shadow. And as with shadows, the "lines"-- what we might consider one's sense of right and wrong-- are blurred. The shadow lines that ARE visible can easily alter with the sun's movement in the sky-- or, more literally speaking, with the rapidly varying trends in any given culture. The Shadowlands, for that reason, are very cool.
Like the Fields of Grace, the Shadowlands offer wide open spaces, and many different cultures. You've got hippies musically extolling the values of peace and harmony, reveling in freedom by enjoying "free love" and drug use. You've got the Buddhists, warmly offering you a meditation room. There are sororities and fraternities and gangs, all offering you a place to belong and find community. You've got warlords who revel in their power by raping, murdering, and killing to their hearts' content. There are the Nihilists partying with the Hedonists, and the Utilitarians paving the roads. Plenty of business CEOs lounge in their NEW towers, which-- ha!-- stand far higher than the gray buildings in the Valley of Towers. There are thieves and murderers and heroes and poets. And of course, there are plenty of every-day people: milling about, falling in love, breaking hearts, making money, losing money, searching for a purpose, for fulfillment, for meaning, and generally: getting along.
All the while, the habitants of the Shadowlands enjoy the darkened sky. Even if they leave a trail of darkness when they walk: the dim light makes that darkness invisible. There is no condemnation in these Shadowlands.
Now: do you SEE why a Tower escapee might find this kind of Shadow-dwelling appealing?
I sure do.
This is the problem with the Shadowlands though: there are swamps.
There are a LOT of hidden swamps.
We could consider the swamps as being representative of addictions, or as the icky feeling that comes when something that we THOUGHT would fulfill us leaves us feeling empty. Let me give you some examples:
The hippy that felt so restful extending peace and love to all, finds that she can't kick her coke habit. Or maybe, her boyfriend abandons her and she's not interested in free love with anyone else. Suddenly she's heart-broken and finds herself in a swamp. She's trapped; she doesn't feel free at all.
The fraternity guy is sick of being known as the crazy-drunk but can't figure out how to climb out of that identity. He feels stuck and depressed; he's in a swamp.
The warlord shuts down his human compassion and stokes the fires of his brutality, his violence, the evil within. He sinks deeper and deeper into a swamp every day. But no one can condemn him-- remember: condemnation has no place here.
The business CEOs see their faces on the cover of "Forbes," but still feel dissatisfied, they have EVERYTHING, but they have yet to feel fulfillment. They're supposed to perch in a high-rise; instead, they find themselves in a swamp.
The Nihilist does what he can to pretend his mother's death doesn't phase him, but he feels grief anyway. His philosophy is challenged when he realizes how much he longs for something to hope in. His confusion permeates; he's landed in a swamp.
Even the average girl-- her dad betrays her; the love of her life breaks up with her; she feels depressed and doesn't know why; she doesn't know her purpose in life-- she feels lonely and hurt and confused, and these are swamps.
You see, everyone in the Shadowlands is searching to fill their empty places. We all have them-- the empty places. As John Mayer sings, "Something's missing/ and I don't know how to fix it." We feel loneliness, a hunger for meaning, we long to be known and to be loved anyway. So we look to fill the empty places. And we find gods to fill them with.
The Shadowlands offer up any number of gods: "Try money!" "Try sex!" "Try love!" "Try philosophy!" "Try narcissism!" "Try work!" John Mayer sings about this in the same song I just referenced. He's got it all: "Friends, check/ money, check/ well slept, check/ opposite sex, check." Still, he concludes: "Something's missing." The first lyrics in the song imply that he's incredibly lonely, even though he's "not alone." We offer these gods our time, energy, talents, worship-- yet we still discover empty places.
The gods crack at some point. Maybe they work for a while, but ultimately, something happens that WOUNDS us, that leaves us broken, that leaves us disappointed, that leaves us hurting and once more searching for truth.
For that Shadow-dweller, the variant shades of gray start to be more frustrating than they are reassuring. What is trust-worthy? What is good? What is fulfilling? Is there ANY reliable answer? Surely not EVERYTHING can be true-- the doctrine of peace and love is at odds with the doctrine of selfish gain; the doctrine of the pursuit of pleasure is at odds with the doctrine of the common good. What on earth is TRUTH?
The Shadow-dwellers, once so disgusted with the absolutes of the Towers, find themselves similarly disenchanted with the vague offerings of the Shadowlands. And what's more: they're stuck. They're hurt. And no one seems wise enough, strong enough, or trust-worthy enough to help them or heal them.
I heard someone say once, "The gospel starts when we realize that something's wrong."
Jesus isn't NECESSARY until we realize that something is wrong.
I feel empty.
I feel dissatisfied.
I am sickened by the evil in this world.
Love let me down; the one I thought would fulfill me couldn't.
My family let me down; they couldn't keep me safe.
I feel ashamed.
Something is WRONG.
And the truest thing I know is that we need something good and strong and forgiving to save us.
Apr 20, 2011
Getting out of the Towers
Got a bit of a series going. If this post seems confusing, check out:
Pits, Towers, Fields and Dancing
and
... Thoughts on Sheep
The Valley of the Towers, remember, is a confining place. People lock themselves in their Tower rooms, and follow the rules which cover their walls. They do everything they can to identify the SHOULDs: what they should look like, who they should be, how they should feel, what they should do... And they are adament about doing those SHOULDs and making sure other people do those SHOULDs as well. If they fail to do a should (I don't look like I should today...!) they feel like a big, fat failure. They often are more concerned with the WHAT (what should I do, when...? what should others do, when...?) rather than WHY. Literally speaking, we could consider the Towers to be symbolic of institutions that promote religious rituals or dogmatic thinking, while missing the point of Christian spirituality: intimacy with Christ.
In this blogger's opinion, the Towers are not a great place to be. Nor are they much fun.
You can get out of the Towers a number of ways:
1.) Sneaking out and sneaking back in.
The Tower Sneakers are those people that are desperate to be free from the Towers, but don't want to disappoint all the other Tower people who think Tower-living is the end-all, be-all. Generally, they feel ashamed for wanting to get away from the Towers for a little while, and they KNOW that if the Tower people found out, they'd condemn the person for doing a SHOULD-NOT. Therefore, this type of Tower fleeing is done very sneakily, and very shamefully. When this person returns to their Tower room, they will either be that much more adament about keeping the SHOULDs and the SHOULD-NOTs and will emphasize that everyone else keep them too (consider: politicians like Larry Craig who are vehemently outspoken against gay marriage, but then are caught soliciting sex from other men in an airport bathroom)-- OR, they will "officially" toe the line, while looking for other people who feel the same way they do, and can join them in their sneaking.
Real Life Tower Sneakers:
-----> My high-schoolers who are perfect and "Christian" at school, but who drink, do drugs, essentially put on a totally different identity, once they're outside the school walls.
-----> People who have affairs
-----> People who have hidden addictions
2.) Escaping and Running Away
This is a much bolder way of getting out of the Towers. These are the people that are so damn sick of Tower living, they're ready to do anything to escape. Maybe these people have played the SHOULD and SHOULD-NOT games so meticulously and with such a frozen smile on their faces for so long that they're ready to explode. Or, maybe they've snuck away so often that they've determined they'd rather have THAT "shameful" existence than Tower living-- ANYTHING but Tower living. In any case, once these people escape the Towers, they run as fast and as far as they can, and they don't look back. Their escape may be a tying-sheets-together-and-sneaking-out-the-window kind (i.e. gradually distancing oneself from the church and severing ties with Church people); it may be a quiet elevator straight to the ground without a word or a glance back (i.e. a sudden disappearance of someone who used to be a Church regular); or, it may be a dramatic LEAP from the window (i.e. a dramatic fall-out with the Church). One thing is clear: they've concluded they can't take it anymore and don't EVER want to live in the Towers again.
Real Life Tower Leapers:
-----> People who leave their spouses and/or families
-----> People who suddenly transform from Christian "goody-two-shoes" into wildly different characters-- they cut off most if not all friends and dramatically transform. People that I've known who do this have changed their names, dyed their hair, gotten tattoos, gotten into drugs, made all new friends in a dramatically different cultural setting, etc.
-----> People who throw themselves into addictions
3.) Excommunication
This is the saddest type of Tower exit, because it's forced on someone who probably actually loves the Tower people, even though they probably don't like Tower living. These people basically "suck" at Tower living. They do, when they SHOULD-NOT. They don't when they SHOULD. Maybe they fall into temptation a lot; maybe they're gay; maybe they're divorced; maybe they have tons of tattoos; maybe they're obese. In any case, they've broken the Tower rules so many times-- either accidentally or on purpose-- that their imperfection is flagrant and the Tower people come down on them HARD. Ultimately, the Tower people evict them from the Towers, or perhaps, to a lesser extent, put them in a smaller cell or in solitary confinement or "punish" them somehow. These people will at first probably feel tremendous grief at losing their place in the Towers, but most likely, this will later turn into profound bitterness. They will probably never try to return to the Towers, or anything remotely LIKE the Towers because 1.) they failed at Tower living, 2.) they feel great bitterness towards the Towers, and 3.)-- most profoundly-- they feel hated by the Tower people.
Real Life Tower Excommunicates:
-----> Anyone who's ever been kicked out of church (or, for that matter, a Christian private school) because of their "sin."
-----> Often, homosexuals who come out, or who are found out
-----> I think couples often punish each other for failing to meet the SHOULDs or SHOULD-NOTs. They may inflict smaller degrees of punishment, but it is along these same lines. This can result in one or both becoming Tower Sneakers.
4.) Those for whom the Tower crumbles.
These people have probably been GREAT at Tower living. They're probably great at following codes, and formulas, and even writing NEW formulas and following all of the SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs. But at some point, something alarming happens. Despite all their safety precautions, despite following all the rules-- the Tower begins to crumble. The certainty of the Towers is challenged-- the simple black and white is overwhelmed with a bewildering fog of gray. These people wish badly they could stay in the Towers and they might frantically try to repair crumbling 2x4s with new bricks of formula, new boards of rules. Still, it's only a matter of time before the Tower topples, leading these poor people searching for certainty, searching for Truth, desperate for protection. It's terrifying when a Tower crumbles... but probably the best thing that could ever happen to a Tower-clinger in the long run.
Real Life Tower Crumblers:
-----> Anyone who's ever had an expectation of God that He didn't meet.
-----> Anyone who's ever experienced a tragedy that seems senseless.
-----> Anyone who's ever been massively disappointed by someone they trusted and believed in.
-----> Anyone whose formulas for success have failed.
-----> Me.
5.) The Graceful Exit
I suppose it's possible for someone to gradually wake up to the destructive ideology of the Towers and to gently put in their two weeks notice, bid warm heartfelt goodbyes to the Tower people, and smoothly transition to the Land of Grace while maintaining strong friendships with the Tower people. How often does that happen though? I'd love to know the secret of how to accomplish the Graceful exit.
Blogs to come:
How to get into the Land of Grace
What keeps you OUT of the Land of Grace
What puts or keeps people in the Towers
Where the rubber hits the road: an anecdote (or two) of how this analogy is practically changing my interactions with people, and my understanding of grace
The Shadowlands
Exploring the Land of Grace: pits, seasons, paths, view-points, and fences
Stay tuned.
Pits, Towers, Fields and Dancing
and
... Thoughts on Sheep
The Valley of the Towers, remember, is a confining place. People lock themselves in their Tower rooms, and follow the rules which cover their walls. They do everything they can to identify the SHOULDs: what they should look like, who they should be, how they should feel, what they should do... And they are adament about doing those SHOULDs and making sure other people do those SHOULDs as well. If they fail to do a should (I don't look like I should today...!) they feel like a big, fat failure. They often are more concerned with the WHAT (what should I do, when...? what should others do, when...?) rather than WHY. Literally speaking, we could consider the Towers to be symbolic of institutions that promote religious rituals or dogmatic thinking, while missing the point of Christian spirituality: intimacy with Christ.
In this blogger's opinion, the Towers are not a great place to be. Nor are they much fun.
You can get out of the Towers a number of ways:
1.) Sneaking out and sneaking back in.
The Tower Sneakers are those people that are desperate to be free from the Towers, but don't want to disappoint all the other Tower people who think Tower-living is the end-all, be-all. Generally, they feel ashamed for wanting to get away from the Towers for a little while, and they KNOW that if the Tower people found out, they'd condemn the person for doing a SHOULD-NOT. Therefore, this type of Tower fleeing is done very sneakily, and very shamefully. When this person returns to their Tower room, they will either be that much more adament about keeping the SHOULDs and the SHOULD-NOTs and will emphasize that everyone else keep them too (consider: politicians like Larry Craig who are vehemently outspoken against gay marriage, but then are caught soliciting sex from other men in an airport bathroom)-- OR, they will "officially" toe the line, while looking for other people who feel the same way they do, and can join them in their sneaking.
Real Life Tower Sneakers:
-----> My high-schoolers who are perfect and "Christian" at school, but who drink, do drugs, essentially put on a totally different identity, once they're outside the school walls.
-----> People who have affairs
-----> People who have hidden addictions
2.) Escaping and Running Away
This is a much bolder way of getting out of the Towers. These are the people that are so damn sick of Tower living, they're ready to do anything to escape. Maybe these people have played the SHOULD and SHOULD-NOT games so meticulously and with such a frozen smile on their faces for so long that they're ready to explode. Or, maybe they've snuck away so often that they've determined they'd rather have THAT "shameful" existence than Tower living-- ANYTHING but Tower living. In any case, once these people escape the Towers, they run as fast and as far as they can, and they don't look back. Their escape may be a tying-sheets-together-and-sneaking-out-the-window kind (i.e. gradually distancing oneself from the church and severing ties with Church people); it may be a quiet elevator straight to the ground without a word or a glance back (i.e. a sudden disappearance of someone who used to be a Church regular); or, it may be a dramatic LEAP from the window (i.e. a dramatic fall-out with the Church). One thing is clear: they've concluded they can't take it anymore and don't EVER want to live in the Towers again.
Real Life Tower Leapers:
-----> People who leave their spouses and/or families
-----> People who suddenly transform from Christian "goody-two-shoes" into wildly different characters-- they cut off most if not all friends and dramatically transform. People that I've known who do this have changed their names, dyed their hair, gotten tattoos, gotten into drugs, made all new friends in a dramatically different cultural setting, etc.
-----> People who throw themselves into addictions
3.) Excommunication
This is the saddest type of Tower exit, because it's forced on someone who probably actually loves the Tower people, even though they probably don't like Tower living. These people basically "suck" at Tower living. They do, when they SHOULD-NOT. They don't when they SHOULD. Maybe they fall into temptation a lot; maybe they're gay; maybe they're divorced; maybe they have tons of tattoos; maybe they're obese. In any case, they've broken the Tower rules so many times-- either accidentally or on purpose-- that their imperfection is flagrant and the Tower people come down on them HARD. Ultimately, the Tower people evict them from the Towers, or perhaps, to a lesser extent, put them in a smaller cell or in solitary confinement or "punish" them somehow. These people will at first probably feel tremendous grief at losing their place in the Towers, but most likely, this will later turn into profound bitterness. They will probably never try to return to the Towers, or anything remotely LIKE the Towers because 1.) they failed at Tower living, 2.) they feel great bitterness towards the Towers, and 3.)-- most profoundly-- they feel hated by the Tower people.
Real Life Tower Excommunicates:
-----> Anyone who's ever been kicked out of church (or, for that matter, a Christian private school) because of their "sin."
-----> Often, homosexuals who come out, or who are found out
-----> I think couples often punish each other for failing to meet the SHOULDs or SHOULD-NOTs. They may inflict smaller degrees of punishment, but it is along these same lines. This can result in one or both becoming Tower Sneakers.
4.) Those for whom the Tower crumbles.
These people have probably been GREAT at Tower living. They're probably great at following codes, and formulas, and even writing NEW formulas and following all of the SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs. But at some point, something alarming happens. Despite all their safety precautions, despite following all the rules-- the Tower begins to crumble. The certainty of the Towers is challenged-- the simple black and white is overwhelmed with a bewildering fog of gray. These people wish badly they could stay in the Towers and they might frantically try to repair crumbling 2x4s with new bricks of formula, new boards of rules. Still, it's only a matter of time before the Tower topples, leading these poor people searching for certainty, searching for Truth, desperate for protection. It's terrifying when a Tower crumbles... but probably the best thing that could ever happen to a Tower-clinger in the long run.
Real Life Tower Crumblers:
-----> Anyone who's ever had an expectation of God that He didn't meet.
-----> Anyone who's ever experienced a tragedy that seems senseless.
-----> Anyone who's ever been massively disappointed by someone they trusted and believed in.
-----> Anyone whose formulas for success have failed.
-----> Me.
5.) The Graceful Exit
I suppose it's possible for someone to gradually wake up to the destructive ideology of the Towers and to gently put in their two weeks notice, bid warm heartfelt goodbyes to the Tower people, and smoothly transition to the Land of Grace while maintaining strong friendships with the Tower people. How often does that happen though? I'd love to know the secret of how to accomplish the Graceful exit.
Blogs to come:
How to get into the Land of Grace
What keeps you OUT of the Land of Grace
What puts or keeps people in the Towers
Where the rubber hits the road: an anecdote (or two) of how this analogy is practically changing my interactions with people, and my understanding of grace
The Shadowlands
Exploring the Land of Grace: pits, seasons, paths, view-points, and fences
Stay tuned.
Apr 15, 2011
The Sinister Birthday Balloon
Y'all, this tower/field stuff has sort of changed my life. I can't remember feeling as free as I've felt the last couple weeks, like, EVER.
I've thought lots more about it; have written lots more. Is anyone interested in hearing more about the Valley of the Towers or the Field of Grace? Or the Shadowlands, for that matter? (The Shadowlands are new.)
In the meantime, I've asked my sophomores to write a poem based off the romantic poet Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty." I didn't want to be left out, so this morning I tried writing a poem as well. My inspiration? The helium balloon* I received on my birthday, well over a month ago, which still creepily hovers near my ceiling and seems to move with a life of its own.
It skulks in my closet, like a raccoon
With devious thoughts and black-ringed eyes
Except, in this case, my birthday balloon
Suspiciously bobs, and tells helium lies.
It ducks and prowls over sweaters and dresses--
A rat-tail ribbon twisting craftily down;
And skritching along, it gives plastic caresses
To my poor frightened skirts and quivering gowns.
There’s no seeming end to its garish display
Of floating red foil, of yellow parading
The freaky thing’s floated for 46 days
And snickers through nights with its “Happy birthday-ing”!
Drawing by Elliot, 12, found on Flickr.
Anyway. Looking forward to hearing what the kids have come up with. :)
*This is not the first time balloons have been ascribed human personalities. Remember this?
I've thought lots more about it; have written lots more. Is anyone interested in hearing more about the Valley of the Towers or the Field of Grace? Or the Shadowlands, for that matter? (The Shadowlands are new.)
In the meantime, I've asked my sophomores to write a poem based off the romantic poet Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty." I didn't want to be left out, so this morning I tried writing a poem as well. My inspiration? The helium balloon* I received on my birthday, well over a month ago, which still creepily hovers near my ceiling and seems to move with a life of its own.
It skulks in my closet, like a raccoon
With devious thoughts and black-ringed eyes
Except, in this case, my birthday balloon
Suspiciously bobs, and tells helium lies.
It ducks and prowls over sweaters and dresses--
A rat-tail ribbon twisting craftily down;
And skritching along, it gives plastic caresses
To my poor frightened skirts and quivering gowns.
There’s no seeming end to its garish display
Of floating red foil, of yellow parading
The freaky thing’s floated for 46 days
And snickers through nights with its “Happy birthday-ing”!
Drawing by Elliot, 12, found on Flickr.
Anyway. Looking forward to hearing what the kids have come up with. :)
*This is not the first time balloons have been ascribed human personalities. Remember this?
Apr 7, 2011
One time I was freaked out and stuck at a bar so I thought about sheep.
It turns out I'd be a great candidate for a Cougar. I keep getting hit on by much younger men-- like the 19-year-old tow truck driver from last night, to whom I pointed out, "You're the same age as the students I taught last year."
His response: "Yeah, you do NOT look 27!"
Thanks dude. Thanks.
Wait-- tow truck driver...?
Indeed. Last night while driving home from the little core group I lead (UW Froshies; Bible Study; Fellowship; etc), I noticed my hood was smoking or steaming or something like crazy. Then I realized my temperature gauge had jumped to as high as it could go. Freaked out; pulled over; called AAA.
Then I waited at a nearby bar for two HOURS until Mr. 19-year-old showed up with his big truck.
And as I was sitting in this bar, freaking out, my mind went back to Towers and Pits and Fields.
I know next to nothing about cars, so my first panicked conclusion was that I might have somehow caused the breakdown. The last time I got my oil changed, they didn't give me the little sticker telling me when to bring it in next, and I rely on the little sticker. You'd think the lack of a sticker would have prompted more frequent dipstick checks on my part, but no: every time I think about my oil I just ask myself, "When was that oil change again...? It doesn't seem like it was THAT long ago..."
So in this bar, as it's pumping horrible 90's music and as college guys carry on a game of beer pong on the floor below me, I tell myself, "I should have gotten the oil changed sooner! I suck! I've failed!"
Pit, pit, pit and the Liar cackles. I'm back in the Valley of the Towers.
The only thing I had to keep me occupied while waiting was my journal, so I wrote and wrote and wrote. After reminding myself in all capital letters that I SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN MY OIL CHANGED SOONER, I wrote:
"Breathe deep.
"Remember where you are.
"Remember WHOSE you are.
"Remember that He is a powerful God and that He has always shown up in major ways.
"I am free in a big, wide open field of grace. Jesus pulls me out of the pit almost as soon as I've tried to get in it.
"And even though pits have very real-life consequences and very tangible (and costly) ramifications, Jesus reminds me:
"'Hey-- daughter. I will HELP you. I will help you know what to do. I will take care of things-- haven't I ALWAYS taken care of you? Remember when I told you, 'I cushion every foot-fall that you make,' and then I DID? You will be okay.'"
In the bar, with TLC pumping, I tried to imagine Jesus giving me a hug. I think Jesus hugs would probably feel great.
I wrote in my journal again: "He says, 'Darling daughter-- you will be just FINE. Remember how much I love you. I love you impossibly. I love you like lit up fountain water, like the shadows of dolphins leaping in waves. I love you with the intricacy of a spider's web, I love you like wind through trees, I love you longer than it takes the miraculous light from a falling star to reach your breathing eyes on earth. I love you like a sunrise, I love you like ocean waves, I love you like a child's laugh, like September blackberries, like a twirl, like a tight warm quilt. I love you like a warm sunbeam through a window, I love you like a good story. I love you like old French music in the rain. You will be OKAY sweet daughter of mine-- I love you so much. I love you impossibly.'
"And as Satan grumpily slithers back into the hole where he came from, Jesus pulls me back into a tight hold and encourages me to dance once again.
"Moments of fear, moments of insecurity and panic-- oh, then how I crave the certainty of the towers.
"But there is music and freedom and reassurance in this Land of Grace. I will be okay."
This is probably the point when AAA called and told me that the tow-truck company was tied up with accidents and it was going to be another 90 minutes. I gave the very kind waitress a forlorn look and kept writing.
"I have been thinking more about Towers and Pits and the Land of Grace," I wrote, and I thought about my core group girls. Sometimes I wonder: just how much grace should I offer them? When is it appropriate to call them out, and say, "You know, sweet girl-- maybe this really isn't a good idea for you to be doing." When do I point out, "Your actions seem inconsistent with the faith you profess"? I've told them that my first priority with our group is to make it a place of safety and grace. I've said that, more than anything, I want this to be a place where they can feel absolute freedom to be real and honest with each other.
And that's true. And I've sort of figured that, as long as we're reading the Bible and discussing it, and praying with one another-- well then, God will show them the rest.
But still, sometimes I wonder: "As their leader, SHOULD I be doing this differently?" I remember some core group leaders calling me out in necessary ways, and I needed that. "Should I be instructing them? Should I be emphasizing more how they should live; how they shouldn't live?"
Basically what I'm asking is: is Tower Training ever appropriate?
I wrote in my journal, "When I think of my high-school students, I know that developmentally, they still very much see the world in Black and White. There are definite boundaries-- there is a clear right and a clear wrong, there is even a clear US and a clear THEM. There are consequences for what is WRONG (unless they can get away with it)... and overall, it seems like they think and are taught in terms of SHOULD and SHOULD NOT.
"So I wonder: is it healthy, in some respect, to be 'trained in the towers'?
"John 10 talks about a shepherd with His flock-- it's Jesus talking-- and He describes leading the sheep in through a gate and how they won't follow a stranger's voice; how, HIS sheep know HIS voice and they follow Him, and those sheep that know Him 'will come in and go out and find pasture' (10:9).
"And I have been thinking about this because this is a field we're dealing with, I assume-- Jesus is a shepherd and sheep graze in wide open spaces I presume, so it sounds like a Field of Grace.
"Yet there is a pen, and a gate, and a fence which all sound like boundaries. And yet the sheep 'go in and out and find pasture.'
"How do I reconcile this? What does all this mean for 'training'? What does this mean for the expansive freedom I envisioned in the Land of Grace?
"I think the most important part is the fact that Jesus says that His sheep 'know His voice' (10: 4, 14, 27). The fact that they know His voice implies such intimacy I feel. It implies such a personal understanding, such a familiarity between sheep and shepherd.
"I think, if that intimacy exists, there is very little need for the Towers of SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs. The sheep are safe because they know to follow the shepherd's voice, and as He points out, He'll do absolutely anything He needs to do to protect them, even lay down His life.
"If there is not that intimacy though, if the sheep do not recognize the voice of their shepherd-- well, perhaps then it IS wiser to keep the sheep safely locked in a tower room, and surround the sheep with lists of SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs. Perhaps then, somehow, the sheep will be kept safe-- for as long as it submits to the shut tower doors, that is."
And in writing this blog even now, I'm thinking, "Some of the Tower lessons are good-- a Tower lesson I'm familiar with is 'Read your Bible,' and 'Pray.' And those lessons, those SHOULDs-- well, aren't those practices the way that a sheep learns to recognize the voice of the shepherd?"
But then I think, "Yet in the Towers, the implication is that you do those things because you SHOULD do them, because that is the RIGHT thing to do. And if you don't do them, well then, you are a bad sheep and you suck."
In the Land of Grace, conversely, you read and pray because you love the Shepherd, and He loves you, and you want to learn the dance, and you want to know HIM more.
I still don't know what this means in terms of what I do with my core group girls. After all, I basically make them read a chapter of John every week. I think there are a lot of weeks when they'd really rather not do the Bible Study part. Am I cornering them in a Tower and forcing a SHOULD down their mouths?
I don't know.
Back to the journal.
I wrote, "At some point, any sheep is going to make its own decision. Who is my shepherd? Who will I follow? Where will I choose to graze?
"The Towers of the SHOULDs and the SHOULD-NOTs may have inadvertently provided directions to the Land of Grace. Maybe, having been trained in the Towers, once a sheep leaves, it will find its way right to the Land of Grace. And that could be a great thing.
"But a sheep may also choose to follow the voice of the Thief.
"I think some sheep-- even with Tower training, maybe because of Tower training-- just need to find their own way. They escape and follow the Thief for a while, and when they realize the Thief is destroying them-- maybe THAT'S when they finally arrive, bedraggled, at the Fields of Grace. Maybe those people need to find themselves at the bottom of a pit before they realize how badly they want to feel freedom.
"Or who knows, maybe some sheep never find their way to the Land of Grace at all.
"I watched the movie '127 Hours' two nights ago and it's about a really cocky, confident hiker guy who gets his arm pinned against a canyon wall and can't get out for 127 hours. He tries everything he can do to free himself but none of it works. Finally, he saws his arm off-- and this is a true story too. He saws his arm off and stumbles out of the canyon and finally he sees people and yells, 'I need HELP!-- Please-- help me!!' This super cocky guy found himself in a pit and finally admits he's in desperate need of help.
"I think pit-discovery is sort of like that too. I think sometimes getting OUT of the pit requires pretty serious humility and repentance-- and may even require renouncing a part of yourself, like Richard talked about in his last sermon. Maybe we need to renounce the part of ourselves that follows the Thief. Like, saw off an arm.
"Yet still-- this scenery out of the pit is not tall towers of rules and formulas and high-up-in-the-tower-looking-down-on-others-judgment. It's still open fields.
"I don't know if there's ever a place for the Valley of the Towers. I know that, so long as a sheep recognizes the voice of the Good Shepherd, it will follow its True Shepherd into a field which is open, which has a pen of safety when needed, a pen which can be entered and exited, which offers good pasture.
"But I also believe that navigating all those places is near impossible to do without listening for the VOICE of the Good Shepherd.
"Maybe the 'training' of young people should be less about SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs and more about recognizing the voice of the Shepherd.
"Jesus is a warm voice-- a guide, who wants the most delightful discoveries for us. He is an arm's length away, even in the pit. He is a rescuer-- a rescuer who wants to laugh with us, be joyful with us, be FREE with us.
"He wants to save us, mostly.
"And following Him does not require following rules or codes or formulas-- it is more a simple following of His voice, of listening for that gentle, kind direction. It is going in and out and following the Shepherd to the nicest fields and exploring and finding refuge in the pen at times, and experiencing freedom and embracing LOVE.
"Grace is such a twirl.
"It really is."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
That was the end of last night's journal entry; shortly after that, the 19-year-old came and got me and towed my poor Honda home. Still don't know what's wrong with it-- praying it's just a broken radiator hose.
I know, in this Field of Grace analogy, there's still a lot to be worked out. I haven't thought yet about how the Great Commission works into it all-- although I bet it has something to do with Jesus telling Peter that, if Peter loves Him, to take care of His sheep. Like I said in the last blog, I'm new to this place and still blinking my eyes in the bright light, waiting for them to adjust.
It's a paradigm shift, really-- a removal of one fundamental lens of assessment and the replacement of that lens with a new one. I'd really love to hear people's thoughts on this (if, that is, you managed to read the whole thing. I've given up on writing this blog for an audience; it's more for me, and for the random passer-by who has eons of time to read my giant blogs.) But if you HAVE managed to read this all, I'd be interested in your thoughts: is this watered down theology? Are there some of us who DO, in fact, belong in the Valley of the Towers? How do you find yourself managing to navigate life-- do you rely on formulas? Do you stumble with so much freedom in Grace?
Any thoughts would be welcome. Blessings to you, fellow sheepies.
His response: "Yeah, you do NOT look 27!"
Thanks dude. Thanks.
Wait-- tow truck driver...?
Indeed. Last night while driving home from the little core group I lead (UW Froshies; Bible Study; Fellowship; etc), I noticed my hood was smoking or steaming or something like crazy. Then I realized my temperature gauge had jumped to as high as it could go. Freaked out; pulled over; called AAA.
Then I waited at a nearby bar for two HOURS until Mr. 19-year-old showed up with his big truck.
And as I was sitting in this bar, freaking out, my mind went back to Towers and Pits and Fields.
I know next to nothing about cars, so my first panicked conclusion was that I might have somehow caused the breakdown. The last time I got my oil changed, they didn't give me the little sticker telling me when to bring it in next, and I rely on the little sticker. You'd think the lack of a sticker would have prompted more frequent dipstick checks on my part, but no: every time I think about my oil I just ask myself, "When was that oil change again...? It doesn't seem like it was THAT long ago..."
So in this bar, as it's pumping horrible 90's music and as college guys carry on a game of beer pong on the floor below me, I tell myself, "I should have gotten the oil changed sooner! I suck! I've failed!"
Pit, pit, pit and the Liar cackles. I'm back in the Valley of the Towers.
The only thing I had to keep me occupied while waiting was my journal, so I wrote and wrote and wrote. After reminding myself in all capital letters that I SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN MY OIL CHANGED SOONER, I wrote:
"Breathe deep.
"Remember where you are.
"Remember WHOSE you are.
"Remember that He is a powerful God and that He has always shown up in major ways.
"I am free in a big, wide open field of grace. Jesus pulls me out of the pit almost as soon as I've tried to get in it.
"And even though pits have very real-life consequences and very tangible (and costly) ramifications, Jesus reminds me:
"'Hey-- daughter. I will HELP you. I will help you know what to do. I will take care of things-- haven't I ALWAYS taken care of you? Remember when I told you, 'I cushion every foot-fall that you make,' and then I DID? You will be okay.'"
In the bar, with TLC pumping, I tried to imagine Jesus giving me a hug. I think Jesus hugs would probably feel great.
I wrote in my journal again: "He says, 'Darling daughter-- you will be just FINE. Remember how much I love you. I love you impossibly. I love you like lit up fountain water, like the shadows of dolphins leaping in waves. I love you with the intricacy of a spider's web, I love you like wind through trees, I love you longer than it takes the miraculous light from a falling star to reach your breathing eyes on earth. I love you like a sunrise, I love you like ocean waves, I love you like a child's laugh, like September blackberries, like a twirl, like a tight warm quilt. I love you like a warm sunbeam through a window, I love you like a good story. I love you like old French music in the rain. You will be OKAY sweet daughter of mine-- I love you so much. I love you impossibly.'
"And as Satan grumpily slithers back into the hole where he came from, Jesus pulls me back into a tight hold and encourages me to dance once again.
"Moments of fear, moments of insecurity and panic-- oh, then how I crave the certainty of the towers.
"But there is music and freedom and reassurance in this Land of Grace. I will be okay."
This is probably the point when AAA called and told me that the tow-truck company was tied up with accidents and it was going to be another 90 minutes. I gave the very kind waitress a forlorn look and kept writing.
"I have been thinking more about Towers and Pits and the Land of Grace," I wrote, and I thought about my core group girls. Sometimes I wonder: just how much grace should I offer them? When is it appropriate to call them out, and say, "You know, sweet girl-- maybe this really isn't a good idea for you to be doing." When do I point out, "Your actions seem inconsistent with the faith you profess"? I've told them that my first priority with our group is to make it a place of safety and grace. I've said that, more than anything, I want this to be a place where they can feel absolute freedom to be real and honest with each other.
And that's true. And I've sort of figured that, as long as we're reading the Bible and discussing it, and praying with one another-- well then, God will show them the rest.
But still, sometimes I wonder: "As their leader, SHOULD I be doing this differently?" I remember some core group leaders calling me out in necessary ways, and I needed that. "Should I be instructing them? Should I be emphasizing more how they should live; how they shouldn't live?"
Basically what I'm asking is: is Tower Training ever appropriate?
I wrote in my journal, "When I think of my high-school students, I know that developmentally, they still very much see the world in Black and White. There are definite boundaries-- there is a clear right and a clear wrong, there is even a clear US and a clear THEM. There are consequences for what is WRONG (unless they can get away with it)... and overall, it seems like they think and are taught in terms of SHOULD and SHOULD NOT.
"So I wonder: is it healthy, in some respect, to be 'trained in the towers'?
"John 10 talks about a shepherd with His flock-- it's Jesus talking-- and He describes leading the sheep in through a gate and how they won't follow a stranger's voice; how, HIS sheep know HIS voice and they follow Him, and those sheep that know Him 'will come in and go out and find pasture' (10:9).
"And I have been thinking about this because this is a field we're dealing with, I assume-- Jesus is a shepherd and sheep graze in wide open spaces I presume, so it sounds like a Field of Grace.
"Yet there is a pen, and a gate, and a fence which all sound like boundaries. And yet the sheep 'go in and out and find pasture.'
"How do I reconcile this? What does all this mean for 'training'? What does this mean for the expansive freedom I envisioned in the Land of Grace?
"I think the most important part is the fact that Jesus says that His sheep 'know His voice' (10: 4, 14, 27). The fact that they know His voice implies such intimacy I feel. It implies such a personal understanding, such a familiarity between sheep and shepherd.
"I think, if that intimacy exists, there is very little need for the Towers of SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs. The sheep are safe because they know to follow the shepherd's voice, and as He points out, He'll do absolutely anything He needs to do to protect them, even lay down His life.
"If there is not that intimacy though, if the sheep do not recognize the voice of their shepherd-- well, perhaps then it IS wiser to keep the sheep safely locked in a tower room, and surround the sheep with lists of SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs. Perhaps then, somehow, the sheep will be kept safe-- for as long as it submits to the shut tower doors, that is."
And in writing this blog even now, I'm thinking, "Some of the Tower lessons are good-- a Tower lesson I'm familiar with is 'Read your Bible,' and 'Pray.' And those lessons, those SHOULDs-- well, aren't those practices the way that a sheep learns to recognize the voice of the shepherd?"
But then I think, "Yet in the Towers, the implication is that you do those things because you SHOULD do them, because that is the RIGHT thing to do. And if you don't do them, well then, you are a bad sheep and you suck."
In the Land of Grace, conversely, you read and pray because you love the Shepherd, and He loves you, and you want to learn the dance, and you want to know HIM more.
I still don't know what this means in terms of what I do with my core group girls. After all, I basically make them read a chapter of John every week. I think there are a lot of weeks when they'd really rather not do the Bible Study part. Am I cornering them in a Tower and forcing a SHOULD down their mouths?
I don't know.
Back to the journal.
I wrote, "At some point, any sheep is going to make its own decision. Who is my shepherd? Who will I follow? Where will I choose to graze?
"The Towers of the SHOULDs and the SHOULD-NOTs may have inadvertently provided directions to the Land of Grace. Maybe, having been trained in the Towers, once a sheep leaves, it will find its way right to the Land of Grace. And that could be a great thing.
"But a sheep may also choose to follow the voice of the Thief.
"I think some sheep-- even with Tower training, maybe because of Tower training-- just need to find their own way. They escape and follow the Thief for a while, and when they realize the Thief is destroying them-- maybe THAT'S when they finally arrive, bedraggled, at the Fields of Grace. Maybe those people need to find themselves at the bottom of a pit before they realize how badly they want to feel freedom.
"Or who knows, maybe some sheep never find their way to the Land of Grace at all.
"I watched the movie '127 Hours' two nights ago and it's about a really cocky, confident hiker guy who gets his arm pinned against a canyon wall and can't get out for 127 hours. He tries everything he can do to free himself but none of it works. Finally, he saws his arm off-- and this is a true story too. He saws his arm off and stumbles out of the canyon and finally he sees people and yells, 'I need HELP!-- Please-- help me!!' This super cocky guy found himself in a pit and finally admits he's in desperate need of help.
"I think pit-discovery is sort of like that too. I think sometimes getting OUT of the pit requires pretty serious humility and repentance-- and may even require renouncing a part of yourself, like Richard talked about in his last sermon. Maybe we need to renounce the part of ourselves that follows the Thief. Like, saw off an arm.
"Yet still-- this scenery out of the pit is not tall towers of rules and formulas and high-up-in-the-tower-looking-down-on-others-judgment. It's still open fields.
"I don't know if there's ever a place for the Valley of the Towers. I know that, so long as a sheep recognizes the voice of the Good Shepherd, it will follow its True Shepherd into a field which is open, which has a pen of safety when needed, a pen which can be entered and exited, which offers good pasture.
"But I also believe that navigating all those places is near impossible to do without listening for the VOICE of the Good Shepherd.
"Maybe the 'training' of young people should be less about SHOULDs and SHOULD-NOTs and more about recognizing the voice of the Shepherd.
"Jesus is a warm voice-- a guide, who wants the most delightful discoveries for us. He is an arm's length away, even in the pit. He is a rescuer-- a rescuer who wants to laugh with us, be joyful with us, be FREE with us.
"He wants to save us, mostly.
"And following Him does not require following rules or codes or formulas-- it is more a simple following of His voice, of listening for that gentle, kind direction. It is going in and out and following the Shepherd to the nicest fields and exploring and finding refuge in the pen at times, and experiencing freedom and embracing LOVE.
"Grace is such a twirl.
"It really is."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
That was the end of last night's journal entry; shortly after that, the 19-year-old came and got me and towed my poor Honda home. Still don't know what's wrong with it-- praying it's just a broken radiator hose.
I know, in this Field of Grace analogy, there's still a lot to be worked out. I haven't thought yet about how the Great Commission works into it all-- although I bet it has something to do with Jesus telling Peter that, if Peter loves Him, to take care of His sheep. Like I said in the last blog, I'm new to this place and still blinking my eyes in the bright light, waiting for them to adjust.
It's a paradigm shift, really-- a removal of one fundamental lens of assessment and the replacement of that lens with a new one. I'd really love to hear people's thoughts on this (if, that is, you managed to read the whole thing. I've given up on writing this blog for an audience; it's more for me, and for the random passer-by who has eons of time to read my giant blogs.) But if you HAVE managed to read this all, I'd be interested in your thoughts: is this watered down theology? Are there some of us who DO, in fact, belong in the Valley of the Towers? How do you find yourself managing to navigate life-- do you rely on formulas? Do you stumble with so much freedom in Grace?
Any thoughts would be welcome. Blessings to you, fellow sheepies.
Apr 4, 2011
Pits, Towers, Fields, and Dancing
Ecclesiastes is one confounding little quagmire.
Several verses warrant more consideration than I could muster last night in my sleepy fuzz. Here's one:
10:8
"Whoever digs a pit may fall into it."
I find the word "MAY" interesting here because it's so non-committal. It's not: "If you dig a pit, then you'd BETTER expect to fall in, smartypants!!" But rather: "if there's a pit yawning beneath you and you've put time and effort into digging it... you may just fall in."
I think I interpret this to be about toying with sin. Like: boyfriend and girlfriend go further and further physically-- that's digging a pit. In other words: you set yourselves up to fail. If you keep going that direction, boyfriend and girlfriend may very well "fall in" eventually and whoops, there's the sex, and there's the bottom of the pit. THEN what happens? Shame, condemnation, self-flagellation, pointing fingers, myriad complications, and so on. When I think about how hard it was to move on from my last relationship and then I think about what it would have been like trying to climb out of a deep pit on top of that-- holy smokes. Getting over a broken heart just became waaaay harder.
Even the pit-digging process can be damaging though. If there's a pit opening up beside you, of COURSE you're going to start feeling insecure and fearful of potential pain. Because holy moly, there's a pit right there! Boyfriend/girlfriend slip in to an extent and stumble a bit down the side... And pit-digging physicality takes a toll on a relationship because of how much insecurity it unearths. Even the pit digging process, the nibbling of sin-- that in itself can be damaging.
Unfortunately, I have experience in this area.
I think people trying out drugs, or checking out porn, or indulging in self-pity, or what-have-you-- that's sort of like pit-digging. And you MAY or may not fall into the pit-- you MAY or may not get addicted... But the pit's right there and there's a good chance you'll fall in. And even if you don't fall in, the process of pit digging is not exactly productive.
This all is rather didactic. Not exactly in line what what I feel God's been teaching me about grace lately.
This is what I have been learning about the Land of Grace:
Actually, before I talk about the Land of Grace, I should explain about the Valley of Towers.
The Valley of Towers is full of gray skyscrapers labeled "SHOULD" and "SHOULD NOT." There are towers labeled "SHOULD-FEEL" and "SHOULD DO" and "SHOULDN'T-FEEL" and "SHOULDN'T DO." People who live in these towers feel very safe because they know exactly what they should or shouldn't do in any situation. They know this because all over the walls of their tower rooms they have lists: "I should do this; I should not do this." They know when they are doing well because the lists tell them so. They know when they are being bad because the lists tell them so. There are formulas and codes and rules wallpapering those walls, and all the Tower People have to do is follow them. It's nice living in the SHOULD towers because you don't have to think very hard; all you have to do is follow the rules and you can trust that everything will be fine and you will be safe.
Although, sometimes an earthquake makes the whole tower fall over, but that's another blog.
For a long time, I have been living in the Valley of the Towers, and have been insisting that other people live in those towers as well. But I've moved, now, to the Land of Grace, and am doing my best to adjust. It's sort of a scary transition, believe it or not. In the Land of Grace I can't take up residence in any of those towers, nor can I insist anyone else take up residence in any of those towers, because, in the Land of Grace, there ARE no towers!
In the Land of Grace, there are only big wide open fields, and spacious breezes, and barefoot dancing.
This is the thing though: it's far easier to dig a pit when you're barefoot in a field than when you've locked yourself in a tower. if you're way up high in a "SHOULD" tower and you want to dig a pit-- hey, it's possible, but it essentially requires that you jump out of the building. Pit-digging, when locked in towers, is pretty catastrophic-- the fall is SO high and the shame is SO deep, that it's extremely difficult to recover.
That's why people who live in the Valley of the SHOULDs and the SHOULD-NOTs are so adamant about what people should and should not do. They want to make sure everyone has the key to their own rooms and knows exactly how to lock themselves inside. If everyone is locked inside their tower cells, then it's safe and near impossible to dig a dangerous pit.
However.
People get darn claustrophobic in those tower cells. Sometimes, a person gets so desperate for air, they leap from their tower and fall into a pit-abyss. This is devastating because, if they'd had a little more freedom, they never might have toyed with the idea of pit-digging at all.
Let's get back to the fields of Grace, the place of love and freedom.
In the Land of Grace, it's far more complex to discern what one should or should not do, because there are no giant labeled towers; there are no explicitly marked road signs. There are no formulas in the Land of Grace. There is most ostensibly-- just-- FREEDOM. And because of that, it's far more difficult to figure out where to go.
And ALSO because of that, it's easier to wiggle your toes in the dirt, and then pull up a few river rocks, and then dig a little deeper to examine all of the fascinating critters, and before you know it-- you've begun digging a pit.
The nice thing about the Land of Grace though is that it's far easier to climb OUT again. True, we may remember the tower-people who would frown deeply from their perches in the SHOULD-NOT cells; we may momentarily burn with shame, imagining that our fall was far longer, that we are far deeper, that our pit is one of permanent condemnation.
But in the Land of Grace, that feeling can't last long because there is Jesus crouching beside the pit and offering help out. "Don't be scared, little one," He tells me. "I've got you!"
And even if I'm weeping and saying, no, no, it's too deep, He grins and says, "Pits are never too deep in this place."
And even if I insist that I can't get out, then He just shrugs, hops on down into the pit with me, and boosts me out. "You good?" He calls.
Back up on those spacious fields, He's pushed me out into a thatch of bright blue cornflowers. "Yeah. I'm good again," I call with a sniff. "But how are YOU going to get out?"
He floats on up out of the pit, like a helium balloon. Maybe He even does a heel click before landing beside me. I see scars on His hands, His feet, His side, His forehead, and I want to throw myself back into the pit out of guilt.
"Nope," He says. "We'll have none of that here." He adopts an Italian accent for a second. "For-a me, getteeng out of de pitz eez-a no problemo!" He gets serious again. "The debt has been paid darling. You're free. You're loved. Go twirl."
I think that's the important part about the word "may" in Solomon's musing. There AREN'T formulas-- the Land of Grace is more complex to navigate. And that's why it's a dance. Grace is not about adhering to stringent codes or punishing oneself in an isolated tower room... It's about dancing with a partner in a spacious wildflower field and letting Him take the lead.
Several verses warrant more consideration than I could muster last night in my sleepy fuzz. Here's one:
10:8
"Whoever digs a pit may fall into it."
I find the word "MAY" interesting here because it's so non-committal. It's not: "If you dig a pit, then you'd BETTER expect to fall in, smartypants!!" But rather: "if there's a pit yawning beneath you and you've put time and effort into digging it... you may just fall in."
I think I interpret this to be about toying with sin. Like: boyfriend and girlfriend go further and further physically-- that's digging a pit. In other words: you set yourselves up to fail. If you keep going that direction, boyfriend and girlfriend may very well "fall in" eventually and whoops, there's the sex, and there's the bottom of the pit. THEN what happens? Shame, condemnation, self-flagellation, pointing fingers, myriad complications, and so on. When I think about how hard it was to move on from my last relationship and then I think about what it would have been like trying to climb out of a deep pit on top of that-- holy smokes. Getting over a broken heart just became waaaay harder.
Even the pit-digging process can be damaging though. If there's a pit opening up beside you, of COURSE you're going to start feeling insecure and fearful of potential pain. Because holy moly, there's a pit right there! Boyfriend/girlfriend slip in to an extent and stumble a bit down the side... And pit-digging physicality takes a toll on a relationship because of how much insecurity it unearths. Even the pit digging process, the nibbling of sin-- that in itself can be damaging.
Unfortunately, I have experience in this area.
I think people trying out drugs, or checking out porn, or indulging in self-pity, or what-have-you-- that's sort of like pit-digging. And you MAY or may not fall into the pit-- you MAY or may not get addicted... But the pit's right there and there's a good chance you'll fall in. And even if you don't fall in, the process of pit digging is not exactly productive.
This all is rather didactic. Not exactly in line what what I feel God's been teaching me about grace lately.
This is what I have been learning about the Land of Grace:
Actually, before I talk about the Land of Grace, I should explain about the Valley of Towers.
The Valley of Towers is full of gray skyscrapers labeled "SHOULD" and "SHOULD NOT." There are towers labeled "SHOULD-FEEL" and "SHOULD DO" and "SHOULDN'T-FEEL" and "SHOULDN'T DO." People who live in these towers feel very safe because they know exactly what they should or shouldn't do in any situation. They know this because all over the walls of their tower rooms they have lists: "I should do this; I should not do this." They know when they are doing well because the lists tell them so. They know when they are being bad because the lists tell them so. There are formulas and codes and rules wallpapering those walls, and all the Tower People have to do is follow them. It's nice living in the SHOULD towers because you don't have to think very hard; all you have to do is follow the rules and you can trust that everything will be fine and you will be safe.
Although, sometimes an earthquake makes the whole tower fall over, but that's another blog.
For a long time, I have been living in the Valley of the Towers, and have been insisting that other people live in those towers as well. But I've moved, now, to the Land of Grace, and am doing my best to adjust. It's sort of a scary transition, believe it or not. In the Land of Grace I can't take up residence in any of those towers, nor can I insist anyone else take up residence in any of those towers, because, in the Land of Grace, there ARE no towers!
In the Land of Grace, there are only big wide open fields, and spacious breezes, and barefoot dancing.
This is the thing though: it's far easier to dig a pit when you're barefoot in a field than when you've locked yourself in a tower. if you're way up high in a "SHOULD" tower and you want to dig a pit-- hey, it's possible, but it essentially requires that you jump out of the building. Pit-digging, when locked in towers, is pretty catastrophic-- the fall is SO high and the shame is SO deep, that it's extremely difficult to recover.
That's why people who live in the Valley of the SHOULDs and the SHOULD-NOTs are so adamant about what people should and should not do. They want to make sure everyone has the key to their own rooms and knows exactly how to lock themselves inside. If everyone is locked inside their tower cells, then it's safe and near impossible to dig a dangerous pit.
However.
People get darn claustrophobic in those tower cells. Sometimes, a person gets so desperate for air, they leap from their tower and fall into a pit-abyss. This is devastating because, if they'd had a little more freedom, they never might have toyed with the idea of pit-digging at all.
Let's get back to the fields of Grace, the place of love and freedom.
In the Land of Grace, it's far more complex to discern what one should or should not do, because there are no giant labeled towers; there are no explicitly marked road signs. There are no formulas in the Land of Grace. There is most ostensibly-- just-- FREEDOM. And because of that, it's far more difficult to figure out where to go.
And ALSO because of that, it's easier to wiggle your toes in the dirt, and then pull up a few river rocks, and then dig a little deeper to examine all of the fascinating critters, and before you know it-- you've begun digging a pit.
The nice thing about the Land of Grace though is that it's far easier to climb OUT again. True, we may remember the tower-people who would frown deeply from their perches in the SHOULD-NOT cells; we may momentarily burn with shame, imagining that our fall was far longer, that we are far deeper, that our pit is one of permanent condemnation.
But in the Land of Grace, that feeling can't last long because there is Jesus crouching beside the pit and offering help out. "Don't be scared, little one," He tells me. "I've got you!"
And even if I'm weeping and saying, no, no, it's too deep, He grins and says, "Pits are never too deep in this place."
And even if I insist that I can't get out, then He just shrugs, hops on down into the pit with me, and boosts me out. "You good?" He calls.
Back up on those spacious fields, He's pushed me out into a thatch of bright blue cornflowers. "Yeah. I'm good again," I call with a sniff. "But how are YOU going to get out?"
He floats on up out of the pit, like a helium balloon. Maybe He even does a heel click before landing beside me. I see scars on His hands, His feet, His side, His forehead, and I want to throw myself back into the pit out of guilt.
"Nope," He says. "We'll have none of that here." He adopts an Italian accent for a second. "For-a me, getteeng out of de pitz eez-a no problemo!" He gets serious again. "The debt has been paid darling. You're free. You're loved. Go twirl."
I think that's the important part about the word "may" in Solomon's musing. There AREN'T formulas-- the Land of Grace is more complex to navigate. And that's why it's a dance. Grace is not about adhering to stringent codes or punishing oneself in an isolated tower room... It's about dancing with a partner in a spacious wildflower field and letting Him take the lead.
Mar 23, 2011
Saddle Up
Word of the day: lugubrious. As in: spring break starts in one more week, but I shall be lugubrious until then.
Not true actually. I'm still giddy from the sunshine. Did anyone see Rainier this morning?? Radiant.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Favorite moment from the mock interviews today:
Mike, a tall confident senior, had indicated an interest in applying to "Reber Ranch"-- a glorified pet store, apparently-- so when he entered the classroom I greeted him with a cheerful Southern accent: "Howdy son! What's yer name?"
He responded with a drawl to rival my own: "Howdy! Mah name's Miy-ke."
I looked at Mike, eyebrows raised. "I detect a Suthin' accent. Are yew frum here, Miyke?"
"Yes ma'am!" he replied cheerfully.
I paused. "Then WHY are yew talkin' in a Suthin' accent?"
He looked at me, confused.
"Are you MOCKIN' my accent?"
"No ma'am! I'm jus talkin', same as yew."
"If you are not from the Sayouth, then you should not be talkin' lahk me. Are you mockin' me? I believe you are mockin' me."
He stared at me-- still confused. I said, "I think yew should leave, son. I am not in the habit of workin' with people who like to mock otha people's ways a' talkin'."
He looked at me incredulously. "Are yew serious?" he asked, still in heavy drawl.
I laughed and dropped the character. "Go on kid, get out! If you have an interviewer who speaks with an accent, you can't talk back to them in that same accent if it's not your own, they'll be insulted! Go on, try again."
He hopped back out into the hall, and poked his head back in, eager to please. "Okay! This is Mike's interview-- take two!"
He shut the door-- then swung it open and walked back into the class.
"Howdy son!" I greeted him. "Welcome to Reber Ray-anch!"
"Well thank yew!" he replied. "I 'preciate you havin' me!"
We laughed him out of the classroom. Seconds later, he was poking his head back into the room to say with a grin, "Okay-- this is Mike's interview, take three!"
On take three, he spoke like a good ol' Washingtonian. :)
Not true actually. I'm still giddy from the sunshine. Did anyone see Rainier this morning?? Radiant.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Favorite moment from the mock interviews today:
Mike, a tall confident senior, had indicated an interest in applying to "Reber Ranch"-- a glorified pet store, apparently-- so when he entered the classroom I greeted him with a cheerful Southern accent: "Howdy son! What's yer name?"
He responded with a drawl to rival my own: "Howdy! Mah name's Miy-ke."
I looked at Mike, eyebrows raised. "I detect a Suthin' accent. Are yew frum here, Miyke?"
"Yes ma'am!" he replied cheerfully.
I paused. "Then WHY are yew talkin' in a Suthin' accent?"
He looked at me, confused.
"Are you MOCKIN' my accent?"
"No ma'am! I'm jus talkin', same as yew."
"If you are not from the Sayouth, then you should not be talkin' lahk me. Are you mockin' me? I believe you are mockin' me."
He stared at me-- still confused. I said, "I think yew should leave, son. I am not in the habit of workin' with people who like to mock otha people's ways a' talkin'."
He looked at me incredulously. "Are yew serious?" he asked, still in heavy drawl.
I laughed and dropped the character. "Go on kid, get out! If you have an interviewer who speaks with an accent, you can't talk back to them in that same accent if it's not your own, they'll be insulted! Go on, try again."
He hopped back out into the hall, and poked his head back in, eager to please. "Okay! This is Mike's interview-- take two!"
He shut the door-- then swung it open and walked back into the class.
"Howdy son!" I greeted him. "Welcome to Reber Ray-anch!"
"Well thank yew!" he replied. "I 'preciate you havin' me!"
We laughed him out of the classroom. Seconds later, he was poking his head back into the room to say with a grin, "Okay-- this is Mike's interview, take three!"
On take three, he spoke like a good ol' Washingtonian. :)
Mar 22, 2011
Tell me about yourself!
Have kicked off the heels and am sitting Indian style in my desk chair, taking an essay grading break. One great big perk of daylight savings: it feels soooo much less lame to be here until 7pm! "It's still light outside! I've got PLENTY of evening left!"
Today's word of the day: filament. As in, The Noiseless Patient Spider, by Whitman. A good SPRINGTIME word, no? When all the world is cautiously creeping forward, reaching tentative petals out of the cold, wintery ground... we are all still fragile filaments-- not yet the robust vines of summer.
But gosh, we're getting there...!
Have been mock-interviewing my Seniors. They're learning a lot, I think-- lots of trouble-shooting as they watch each other, observe what questions seem especially tricky, and visually recognize what looks and sounds good. "Woah... Chris NAILED that! His answers were so good!" "Jane was really confident, she sounded like she knew what she was talking about." "Tom kept saying 'um.'" "What do you think guys? What did they do well? What could they do better? Let's rehearse this so you're ready for the real deal!"
I'm, of course, enjoying the theatrical potential of the mock interviews. For Samantha's mock interview at Doggie Daycare, I pretended to be an effusive old woman who hugged her on the way in and the way out. "Oooooh, honey I just BET you love dogs!! Sweetie, sit down, tell me all about it. Are you a pet parent? We are pet PARENTS here! We love all dogs, even the ugly ones, we show no pet prejudice!"
For Brian and Jake's mock interview at Costco, I pretended to be painfully nervous, shy, and awkward, and didn't make eye contact with them once. They seemed taken aback, but handled themselves well in spite of it. Nice work guys!
Shane had written down that he wanted to apply to be the Husky mascot, so Mel, our school counselor and I pretended to be members of the cheer squad. We were warm and friendly, and bounced around and clapped our hands. We asked him to demonstrate any special mascot moves he had, and made him end his interview by coming up with a cheer. At one point, Mel asked what would he do if a kid kept hitting him, and acted it out herself-- moving around the floor on her knees and hitting his legs: "hey! Give me a high five, hey!" (whack whack whack) "I'm talking to you!"
Trevor wanted to interview at Disney, so Mel played the part of the starry-eyed Disney advocate, in love with the magic of the happiest place on earth. I countered that, playing the part of the embittered, disgruntled employee. I gave Trevor eye-rolls, sarcastic retorts, and pretended to gag anytime either of them mentioned "Disney Magic." Trevor focused his attention on Mel and enthusiastically described his long-held passion for Disneyland-- doing an excellent job to elude my attempts to rain on his Disney parade.
Dan and Clark both wanted to apply at performance bike shops. I borrowed another teacher's bike and-- pacing up and down the classroom energetically and barking questions at the boys-- asked the guys to tell me all about it. The other students were blown away as both boys launched into technical commentary on the bike's frame, its style, its suitability-- especially as I gave them example customers to discuss the bike with. Both of these students typically struggle with Language Arts and often feel discouraged about their abilities in this class, so it was fun to see them impress their peers with their obvious expertise.
After school, a former student dropped by with her new boyfriend. Without meaning to, I launched back into interviewing mode. "George, is it? Great to meet you. So tell me about yourself! ...You're into literature? Excellent! Any favorite books, or favorite authors? ... And George, how would your friends describe you, do you think? Like-- throw out some adjectives." I couldn't help it. Think it caught poor George off guard, but my former student seemed amused. Whoops.
More mock interviews tomorrow. Hooray. :)
Today's word of the day: filament. As in, The Noiseless Patient Spider, by Whitman. A good SPRINGTIME word, no? When all the world is cautiously creeping forward, reaching tentative petals out of the cold, wintery ground... we are all still fragile filaments-- not yet the robust vines of summer.
But gosh, we're getting there...!
Have been mock-interviewing my Seniors. They're learning a lot, I think-- lots of trouble-shooting as they watch each other, observe what questions seem especially tricky, and visually recognize what looks and sounds good. "Woah... Chris NAILED that! His answers were so good!" "Jane was really confident, she sounded like she knew what she was talking about." "Tom kept saying 'um.'" "What do you think guys? What did they do well? What could they do better? Let's rehearse this so you're ready for the real deal!"
I'm, of course, enjoying the theatrical potential of the mock interviews. For Samantha's mock interview at Doggie Daycare, I pretended to be an effusive old woman who hugged her on the way in and the way out. "Oooooh, honey I just BET you love dogs!! Sweetie, sit down, tell me all about it. Are you a pet parent? We are pet PARENTS here! We love all dogs, even the ugly ones, we show no pet prejudice!"
For Brian and Jake's mock interview at Costco, I pretended to be painfully nervous, shy, and awkward, and didn't make eye contact with them once. They seemed taken aback, but handled themselves well in spite of it. Nice work guys!
Shane had written down that he wanted to apply to be the Husky mascot, so Mel, our school counselor and I pretended to be members of the cheer squad. We were warm and friendly, and bounced around and clapped our hands. We asked him to demonstrate any special mascot moves he had, and made him end his interview by coming up with a cheer. At one point, Mel asked what would he do if a kid kept hitting him, and acted it out herself-- moving around the floor on her knees and hitting his legs: "hey! Give me a high five, hey!" (whack whack whack) "I'm talking to you!"
Trevor wanted to interview at Disney, so Mel played the part of the starry-eyed Disney advocate, in love with the magic of the happiest place on earth. I countered that, playing the part of the embittered, disgruntled employee. I gave Trevor eye-rolls, sarcastic retorts, and pretended to gag anytime either of them mentioned "Disney Magic." Trevor focused his attention on Mel and enthusiastically described his long-held passion for Disneyland-- doing an excellent job to elude my attempts to rain on his Disney parade.
Dan and Clark both wanted to apply at performance bike shops. I borrowed another teacher's bike and-- pacing up and down the classroom energetically and barking questions at the boys-- asked the guys to tell me all about it. The other students were blown away as both boys launched into technical commentary on the bike's frame, its style, its suitability-- especially as I gave them example customers to discuss the bike with. Both of these students typically struggle with Language Arts and often feel discouraged about their abilities in this class, so it was fun to see them impress their peers with their obvious expertise.
After school, a former student dropped by with her new boyfriend. Without meaning to, I launched back into interviewing mode. "George, is it? Great to meet you. So tell me about yourself! ...You're into literature? Excellent! Any favorite books, or favorite authors? ... And George, how would your friends describe you, do you think? Like-- throw out some adjectives." I couldn't help it. Think it caught poor George off guard, but my former student seemed amused. Whoops.
More mock interviews tomorrow. Hooray. :)
Mar 21, 2011
Oh, to find a daffodilled quagmire of Greta-people
Word of the day: quagmire.
As in, "Our hike went well until we fell into the quagmire and had to hog-tie the gators."
Or, "Gee! This pile of grading sure has me in a quagmire. How many days left til spring break again?-- er, summer vacation?"
The last definition of quagmire is "anything soft or flabby." Seriously?? As in, a dimpled thigh could be called a quagmire?
That seems a bit harsh, eh? Regardless: it's a fantastic word.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I saw a description of my Myers-Briggs type this weekend. The subtitle describing ENFJ is: "Smooth-talking persuader."
Hey little kid, want some candy?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I had a great weekend. Besides soaking in the looooooong-awaited spring sunshine (spring!! it's SPRING!!!) I finally got around to spending my Anthropologie gift-cards from Christmas and my birthday. HOORAY. Shopping lately has been an interesting experience. I've stopped buying things based on whether or not I like them and more so on whether or not they seem inherently MINE. In Ashland, for example, I tried on a vintage pink twirly dress with yellow ribbon trim, and I knew it belonged to me. Whether or not I bought it (although I DID buy it)-- that dress simply belonged to me. Later I showed the dress to two of my students and they gasped in happy surprise. "We saw that, and we all said it looked like you!"
See? My dress.
At Anthropologie, one drapy shrug inspired me to twirl in the dressing room. If it inspires me to twirl: it's a Greta. Another intricate lace top sang a little Greta-tune. Yep: that's a Me.
I tried on a terrific green blazer, but it inspired no twirling, had entirely conventional buttons, and was undeniably practical. That one did not make it to the register.
It was not mine, see?
I've started applying this philosophy to people as well, which I'm sure is wholly off-base. In conversation with someone, I might think to myself, "What a nice person. What an intelligent, well-rounded person. But this isn't a Greta-type-of-person."
Most people aren't. Kindred spirits are rare for all of us, of course. Most of my friends are not Greta-people, but they are still dearly Greta-beloved.
Still, it's awfully fun to FIND a Greta-person. In those cases, even upon a first acquaintance, friendship seems inevitable. Because, clearly, we BELONG in the same habitat. We KNOW the same little tunes. We are the same rare species! Hallelujah.
I met some fun new people this weekend. Don't think any of them are Greta-people, but golly, are they fun people. When talking to new-friend-Andrew yesterday evening, we decided getting together that night wasn't going to work out after all. "But we'll see each other soon I'm sure," he said. "That's what new friends do, right?"
I like people so much.
And I love blooming crocuses and daffodils and cherry trees so much!!!
As in, "Our hike went well until we fell into the quagmire and had to hog-tie the gators."
Or, "Gee! This pile of grading sure has me in a quagmire. How many days left til spring break again?-- er, summer vacation?"
The last definition of quagmire is "anything soft or flabby." Seriously?? As in, a dimpled thigh could be called a quagmire?
That seems a bit harsh, eh? Regardless: it's a fantastic word.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I saw a description of my Myers-Briggs type this weekend. The subtitle describing ENFJ is: "Smooth-talking persuader."
Hey little kid, want some candy?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I had a great weekend. Besides soaking in the looooooong-awaited spring sunshine (spring!! it's SPRING!!!) I finally got around to spending my Anthropologie gift-cards from Christmas and my birthday. HOORAY. Shopping lately has been an interesting experience. I've stopped buying things based on whether or not I like them and more so on whether or not they seem inherently MINE. In Ashland, for example, I tried on a vintage pink twirly dress with yellow ribbon trim, and I knew it belonged to me. Whether or not I bought it (although I DID buy it)-- that dress simply belonged to me. Later I showed the dress to two of my students and they gasped in happy surprise. "We saw that, and we all said it looked like you!"
See? My dress.
At Anthropologie, one drapy shrug inspired me to twirl in the dressing room. If it inspires me to twirl: it's a Greta. Another intricate lace top sang a little Greta-tune. Yep: that's a Me.
I tried on a terrific green blazer, but it inspired no twirling, had entirely conventional buttons, and was undeniably practical. That one did not make it to the register.
It was not mine, see?
I've started applying this philosophy to people as well, which I'm sure is wholly off-base. In conversation with someone, I might think to myself, "What a nice person. What an intelligent, well-rounded person. But this isn't a Greta-type-of-person."
Most people aren't. Kindred spirits are rare for all of us, of course. Most of my friends are not Greta-people, but they are still dearly Greta-beloved.
Still, it's awfully fun to FIND a Greta-person. In those cases, even upon a first acquaintance, friendship seems inevitable. Because, clearly, we BELONG in the same habitat. We KNOW the same little tunes. We are the same rare species! Hallelujah.
I met some fun new people this weekend. Don't think any of them are Greta-people, but golly, are they fun people. When talking to new-friend-Andrew yesterday evening, we decided getting together that night wasn't going to work out after all. "But we'll see each other soon I'm sure," he said. "That's what new friends do, right?"
I like people so much.
And I love blooming crocuses and daffodils and cherry trees so much!!!
Mar 18, 2011
Documentation
Ooohhh, blog.
Last night, I looked at my "March 2010" blogs. It's amazing to see and remember where I was just about one year ago. It's crazy, for instance, to remember that just one year ago I was a battered shipwreck. Yet this morning, when I prayed, I imagined myself talking to God on a sunrise shore. We chatted in a beached row-boat while the quiet morning waves lapped the sides, and then finally we pushed off.
And when I considered that I was ship-wrecked just one year ago, and now I'm setting off into that crazy ocean again-- I think, "Wow. Can't believe I got here. Thanks for the healing, God."
Reading my old blogs made me wish I wrote more regularly. I remember very little of what I DON'T get written down.
So how about I write things down that I'd like to remember?
Good things:
- An Ashland trip to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival with my AP class. Felt proud of my students-- I have really classy students. They're polite and intelligent and well-spoken and just CLASSY. Sometimes I miss the rag-tag crew of my student teaching days-- but since I'm with a different crew now, I'm enjoying them for who THEY are.
- One of my AP students, C, has "taken me under her wing." It's almost like I'm a new kid at school and she wants to make sure I have a friend and feel comfortable-- it's incredibly sweet, actually. When we go into chapel, she waves me over, "Miss W! Sit with us!" She and her friend asked to be my Ashland roommates. On the bus ride down, she would call me to the back of the bus and say, "Miss W! Will you tell us stories?" And every once in a while, I'll make a comment in class and she'll stop by my room after school and say, "I just wanted to check in with you and see how things are going..." I sort of love her.
- In fact, C and two other students stopped by my class yesterday after school and we all just talked for a while-- about faith at our school, where students are at, what adults they feel comfortable talking to... I stressed about wishing that our school was a "safe" enough place for kids to openly question aspects of Christianity, or be real about the issues they're dealing with. I worried aloud about trying to make my classroom "safe" but acknowledged that kids still seem hesitant about being truly transparent. One of the girls said, "I think you've done a good job with that actually. I don't think anyone's ever felt judged in YOUR classroom."
For someone who has a history of being judgmental-- that was so good to hear.
What else do I want to remember?
- Had a great discussion with the Seniors about Utopias and Dystopias yesterday to kick off our next unit on Fahrenheit 451-- had them each imagine what THEIR personal paradise or nightmare would be. It was fascinating to discuss with them their ideas-- and, even in my little classes, the various attempts that humanity has made to create world harmony emerged. Some kids were in favor of tighter government oversight and rules; other kids wanted no government at all, or a very limited one. Some people stressed that everyone should share with everyone. Some people wanted Christianity to be taught to all; other people asserted that freedom of religion was imperative for a Utopian society. Many kids wanted badly to create a Utopia where humans were perfect, even though I stressed that their Utopias should still take into consideration that humans are still fallen, messed up people. "No jails, no government, no rules" they said-- "we all just treat each other with respect." Some kids brought it all back to education-- "Unless we do a better job training people in what's RIGHT, we'll HAVE to have all those rules. It all comes back to the SCHOOL."
In 45 minutes, they unknowingly endorsed Communism, Totalitarianism, Anarchy, Democracy, Socialism, and even the philosophy that our school bases itself on-- which many of them grumpily complain about.
It was amazing to see. Humans are so HUMAN.
At the end of class I said, "Folks-- you're seniors. You're about 5 minutes away from graduation. This is YOUR world now. What are you going to do to make sure it's more of a UTOPIA than a DYSTOPIA? How will you make your world a better place?"
- Yesterday was a fun teaching day. I guess most of my life these days revolves around teaching stuff.
- Although! It was a fun St. Patrick's day party at Malia and Peter's.
- And: the cherry trees are beginning to bloom! This LONG WINTER is finally ending...!
Bit of a boring blog I guess-- but one perk to having a blog that's not massively popular is that I can really just write for me. If you enjoy it too-- whoever YOU are-- well hey, how nice. :)
Incidentally, I've given up Facebook for Lent. Felt like it was become a dangerous time suck... and thought a break from it could only be a healthy thing. You know what I miss the most? Coming up with interesting status updates and sending those out into the populated void. How narcissistic is that??
Ha-- humans are so HUMAN. Good thing there's grace.
Last night, I looked at my "March 2010" blogs. It's amazing to see and remember where I was just about one year ago. It's crazy, for instance, to remember that just one year ago I was a battered shipwreck. Yet this morning, when I prayed, I imagined myself talking to God on a sunrise shore. We chatted in a beached row-boat while the quiet morning waves lapped the sides, and then finally we pushed off.
And when I considered that I was ship-wrecked just one year ago, and now I'm setting off into that crazy ocean again-- I think, "Wow. Can't believe I got here. Thanks for the healing, God."
Reading my old blogs made me wish I wrote more regularly. I remember very little of what I DON'T get written down.
So how about I write things down that I'd like to remember?
Good things:
- An Ashland trip to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival with my AP class. Felt proud of my students-- I have really classy students. They're polite and intelligent and well-spoken and just CLASSY. Sometimes I miss the rag-tag crew of my student teaching days-- but since I'm with a different crew now, I'm enjoying them for who THEY are.
- One of my AP students, C, has "taken me under her wing." It's almost like I'm a new kid at school and she wants to make sure I have a friend and feel comfortable-- it's incredibly sweet, actually. When we go into chapel, she waves me over, "Miss W! Sit with us!" She and her friend asked to be my Ashland roommates. On the bus ride down, she would call me to the back of the bus and say, "Miss W! Will you tell us stories?" And every once in a while, I'll make a comment in class and she'll stop by my room after school and say, "I just wanted to check in with you and see how things are going..." I sort of love her.
- In fact, C and two other students stopped by my class yesterday after school and we all just talked for a while-- about faith at our school, where students are at, what adults they feel comfortable talking to... I stressed about wishing that our school was a "safe" enough place for kids to openly question aspects of Christianity, or be real about the issues they're dealing with. I worried aloud about trying to make my classroom "safe" but acknowledged that kids still seem hesitant about being truly transparent. One of the girls said, "I think you've done a good job with that actually. I don't think anyone's ever felt judged in YOUR classroom."
For someone who has a history of being judgmental-- that was so good to hear.
What else do I want to remember?
- Had a great discussion with the Seniors about Utopias and Dystopias yesterday to kick off our next unit on Fahrenheit 451-- had them each imagine what THEIR personal paradise or nightmare would be. It was fascinating to discuss with them their ideas-- and, even in my little classes, the various attempts that humanity has made to create world harmony emerged. Some kids were in favor of tighter government oversight and rules; other kids wanted no government at all, or a very limited one. Some people stressed that everyone should share with everyone. Some people wanted Christianity to be taught to all; other people asserted that freedom of religion was imperative for a Utopian society. Many kids wanted badly to create a Utopia where humans were perfect, even though I stressed that their Utopias should still take into consideration that humans are still fallen, messed up people. "No jails, no government, no rules" they said-- "we all just treat each other with respect." Some kids brought it all back to education-- "Unless we do a better job training people in what's RIGHT, we'll HAVE to have all those rules. It all comes back to the SCHOOL."
In 45 minutes, they unknowingly endorsed Communism, Totalitarianism, Anarchy, Democracy, Socialism, and even the philosophy that our school bases itself on-- which many of them grumpily complain about.
It was amazing to see. Humans are so HUMAN.
At the end of class I said, "Folks-- you're seniors. You're about 5 minutes away from graduation. This is YOUR world now. What are you going to do to make sure it's more of a UTOPIA than a DYSTOPIA? How will you make your world a better place?"
- Yesterday was a fun teaching day. I guess most of my life these days revolves around teaching stuff.
- Although! It was a fun St. Patrick's day party at Malia and Peter's.
- And: the cherry trees are beginning to bloom! This LONG WINTER is finally ending...!
Bit of a boring blog I guess-- but one perk to having a blog that's not massively popular is that I can really just write for me. If you enjoy it too-- whoever YOU are-- well hey, how nice. :)
Incidentally, I've given up Facebook for Lent. Felt like it was become a dangerous time suck... and thought a break from it could only be a healthy thing. You know what I miss the most? Coming up with interesting status updates and sending those out into the populated void. How narcissistic is that??
Ha-- humans are so HUMAN. Good thing there's grace.
Mar 2, 2011
Infusion
Yesterday was my birthday.
In my journal, I wrote, "Hope Year 27 is marked by a greater ability to extend grace to others and more readily accept it for myself."
It's funny: phrases that I've heard and "known" my whole life-- concepts like, Love and Grace and Forgiveness-- those Christian buzzwords, you know? For years, they've been in my head. Something about this season though is getting those abstract concepts finally, finally down to a deeper place inside. It isn't sudden, and it isn't glamorous or dramatic. It's more like a waking up percolation-- an infusion of substances and experiences and thoughts dripping down slowly into the deepest understanding-place. Within me, something potent is brewing.
I think it has something to do with all of this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Pastor Richard often talks about the importance of holding blessings with open hands. That's a very difficult thing for me to do. Isn't that a difficult thing for ALL of us to do? It seems as though when the good things come, I'm able to keep my shaky hands open just long enough to see them tremble in would-be preparatory flight. Then, in a hiccup of panicky fear, I clap my hands shut and clutch tight, fearfully tightening my hands into fists. Inside my grasp, those tissue wings, those dusty rivulets of fragile life-- perish.
I so badly want to hold on.
But today, something different happened.
I had a hope and it landed on my finger-tips. For a long moment, I waited, eyes focused on this diaphanous vibration. Stay.
Won't you stay.
But I plucked no daisy petals and made no demands. I tornadoed no dandelions, and sought no falling stars. I didn't even curl my fingers. I kept my palms upraised, open, spacious. I hungered for this lovely thing, and held my breath-- but most of all my heart prayed freedom.
And-- it flew away.
And even though I ought to be disappointed about the fact-- and even though I suppose I am disappointed about the fact-- it all feels more free than anything has felt in a long time.
The open hands place is a freedom-place, it's a GOOD place, it isn't a trapped place, it's a GRACE place.
Something about this has something to do with everything else. And I know that doesn't make much sense, but most of it doesn't make much "sense," and very little of it looks like what I would choose for it to ACTUALLY look like--
Yet despite that, something about open hands, and even the peace that comes with watching something beautiful fly away... is the most hopeful, restful thing I've known in a long time.
And that makes me feel good about this wide open space I'm in.
In my journal, I wrote, "Hope Year 27 is marked by a greater ability to extend grace to others and more readily accept it for myself."
It's funny: phrases that I've heard and "known" my whole life-- concepts like, Love and Grace and Forgiveness-- those Christian buzzwords, you know? For years, they've been in my head. Something about this season though is getting those abstract concepts finally, finally down to a deeper place inside. It isn't sudden, and it isn't glamorous or dramatic. It's more like a waking up percolation-- an infusion of substances and experiences and thoughts dripping down slowly into the deepest understanding-place. Within me, something potent is brewing.
I think it has something to do with all of this.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Pastor Richard often talks about the importance of holding blessings with open hands. That's a very difficult thing for me to do. Isn't that a difficult thing for ALL of us to do? It seems as though when the good things come, I'm able to keep my shaky hands open just long enough to see them tremble in would-be preparatory flight. Then, in a hiccup of panicky fear, I clap my hands shut and clutch tight, fearfully tightening my hands into fists. Inside my grasp, those tissue wings, those dusty rivulets of fragile life-- perish.
I so badly want to hold on.
But today, something different happened.
I had a hope and it landed on my finger-tips. For a long moment, I waited, eyes focused on this diaphanous vibration. Stay.
Won't you stay.
But I plucked no daisy petals and made no demands. I tornadoed no dandelions, and sought no falling stars. I didn't even curl my fingers. I kept my palms upraised, open, spacious. I hungered for this lovely thing, and held my breath-- but most of all my heart prayed freedom.
And-- it flew away.
And even though I ought to be disappointed about the fact-- and even though I suppose I am disappointed about the fact-- it all feels more free than anything has felt in a long time.
The open hands place is a freedom-place, it's a GOOD place, it isn't a trapped place, it's a GRACE place.
Something about this has something to do with everything else. And I know that doesn't make much sense, but most of it doesn't make much "sense," and very little of it looks like what I would choose for it to ACTUALLY look like--
Yet despite that, something about open hands, and even the peace that comes with watching something beautiful fly away... is the most hopeful, restful thing I've known in a long time.
And that makes me feel good about this wide open space I'm in.
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