It's been a while. I know.
This last week has been a heavy one. One of my seniors, our most well known basketball player and a darling to all, got diagnosed with leukemia last Saturday night. All day Monday, I spent my classes processing through this devastating news with my students. It was an exhausting day, filled with many questions of, "WHY? Why would God allow this?" There's been wonderfully hopeful news to follow this up-- my student's cancer has been determined to be 95% curable; her doctor is considered the best in the world in dealing with this type of leukemia; and coaches from UCLA, UW, Gonzaga and the like are still bending over backwards to recruit this girl. Still, even this good news does little to soften the overall blow.
In the meantime, others close to me are dealing with their own gauntlets: family issues, marriage difficulties, spiritual doubts and so on. In my own life, I find myself tripping over struggles I thought I'd put to rest months and months ago. It's easy to join the choruses of people around me: why are we here again? Why would you allow this God?
Since I started teaching at my school, my September unit with the seniors has largely focused on Mere Christianity. This summer, re-reading it for the third time, I found myself getting SO much more out of it personally than I have before. This quote was one of many that caught my attention:
“Every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature."
The way C.S. Lewis describes it, all of everything boils down to what is happening on the inside of us. And although I read that quote back in August and have discussed it at length with my seniors, the apple-dropping-on-the-head moment didn't happen until this morning.
This is what I think. I think it all, all, all comes back to our eternal parts. We as humans tend to focus on circumstances, on whether or not we feel happy, on whether or not things are going well according to our standards. And why wouldn't we? We're evaluating our lives based on how well we understand living. But I'm not sure the question we should be asking ourselves is, "Does this make me happy?" Rather, I think the question we should be asking ourselves is, "What is this doing to the condition of my soul?"
Let me give an example. The struggle I myself keep tripping over is an old one-- I've mentioned it before on this blog. Simply put, when I feel afraid or anxious, I try to assert control over the variables around me-- usually people. I start giving instructions and making demands and drawing fences. I'm much better than I used to be-- I think my Fields of Grace analogy helped me considerably. But still: for me, fear begets a clamp-down.
Now: when my fists clutch, what happens to the condition of my soul? Fear starts calling the shots instead of the Holy Spirit. A hiss in my ear convinces me that God is NOT in control, and I have to do the job for Him. Anxiety inflames; my peace slips away. I find myself building Towers on my own, trying to construct a facade of safety. In those moments, the condition of my soul is horribly anxious and confined. I am listening more to the voices of darkness than the voices of light. Furthermore-- how do my demands affect other people? Rather than letting others pursue their own paths, under the shepherding of their watchful Lord, I try to play shepherd myself, and frankly-- probably do my best to get in God's way. How are others' opportunities to learn and experience God's plan impeded? How do my actions affect the conditions of THEIR souls?
To me, this realization deepens and enriches moments of exultation-- but it also gives meaning to what would seem like senseless tragedy. We ask why, because we are looking at the shambles around us. But the question isn't about those broken pieces; how many passages in the Bible remind us that this life is fleeting, that those things fade? What DOESN'T fade? Our eternal bits. And NOTHING mortal about us will last or persevere unless it knits itself with the eternal, resurrecting life of Christ. Feelings run out. Security runs out. Human reliability runs out. Health runs out. True: healing, faithfulness, safety, and true love can sweep in but if they're going to last, I believe they still must come from The Eternal Source. Our thoughts then, MUST be towards what is happening to the eternal parts of us. I must ask: what is happening to the condition of my soul?
The other quote I've read and re-read from Lewis' book again gets back to this idea-- and continues to speak to me in powerful ways:
"We must not be surprised [as Christians] when we are in for a rough time. When someone turns to Christ and seems to be getting on pretty well (in the sense that some of their bad habits are now corrected), they often feel that it would now be natural if things went fairly smoothly. When troubles come along... they are disappointed. These things, they feel, might have been necessary to rouse them and make them repent in their bad old days; but why now? Because: God is forcing them on, or up to a higher level: putting them into situations where they will have to be very much braver, or more patient, or more loving, than they ever dreamed of being before. It seems to us all unnecessary; but that is because we have not yet had the slightest notion of the tremendous things He means to make of us."
We scrutinize the dirt under our fingernails; the rain on the backs of our necks; the numbers on our paychecks. We care about the details. He cares about the details too I think-- but only insofar as they draw us to Him. Ultimately, He looks at the blazing, churning souls within us. He looks at the eternity we are becoming-- and if we give Him His way, He will do whatever necessary to make sure we become the tremendous things He's envisioned.
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Oct 2, 2011
Jun 21, 2011
The Tower Dweller's Lie: it all depends on us
Previous blogs in this series:
1-- Pits, Towers, Fields and Dancing
2-- ... Thoughts on Sheep
3-- Getting out of the Towers
4-- The Shadowlands
5-- The Land of Grace: Casting Shadows
6-- When the Tower Crumbles: Getting to the Land of Grace
7-- A Disclaimer
8-- Holy Scripture, Batman
9--Shadows in the Land of Grace: the Comparison Game
10-- The ONLY One-- Other trips into the Land of Grace
11-- Real Life: one person's story of getting to the Land of Grace
Hey blogging world-- I've been gone for a bit. I finished up with school... my second year of teaching is DONE! I'm getting ready to head off to South Africa in a couple weeks, at which point this series will subside for a time and South Africa will emerge as the primary focus. I think I've also taken some time away from this series because the ideas haven't come as rapidly. I honestly believe all these "ideas" are coming from one main Source-- i.e. God-- and, whether it's because I haven't been as intentional about writing and processing in my journal, or whether it's because this analogy articulates itself as I live life-- the next idea has taken a while to arrive.
But it's here now, so I'll try to break it down.
Let's go back to the Towers-- let's go back to those people who are trying so hard to live life correctly, and to keep themselves safe, and are fearful of making shadows or letting people down, and are missing the best part of Grace: freedom.
I've realized that one of the most seductive lies which keeps people in the Towers is the idea that the Tower people have more power than they actually do. How do they think they have power? Here are some examples of Tower thinking:
"If I just read my Bible enough and pray with enough faith, everything in my life will go well."
"My friend is hurting and is making terrible decisions; I need to help them somehow."
"My girlfriend means SO MUCH to me, and I want to be her everything. I want to save her-- I want to fulfill her completely."
"My boyfriend is so far from God; I need to convince him that God is his one and only Savior."
"Things are not going how I want them to go right now. I need to do something different; something must be wrong with me."
"I'm afraid that [this bad thing] might happen. So I'll make sure I do [this, and this, and this] to protect myself from that EVER happening."
And so on.
These lies are deceptive because there's a lot of truth in them-- if our lives suck, it's probably the most practical first step to do some serious self-evaluation and to consider where we might make some healthy changes. Or if someone in our life is clearly hurting-- I don't think we should just sit idly by and let them suffer. We probably should DO something. And obviously, if we make healthy life choices, we'll set ourselves up to avoid pain. However, these "formulas" for success don't always work and in the moments when they fail, the Tower crumbles. The thing we'd feared most happens after all, and all our deposits into the safety account come up bankrupt. True safety cannot be found in the Towers; no matter how hard WE try, life and living will be dangerous, confusing, and risky.
This is my point: where Tower Thinking falls short is that it fails to acknowledge that we as people are SMALL.
Insulted?
Don't be. This should come as a giant relief.
I remember around this time last year, driving home from counseling, considering all the people in my life who were stressing me out and who I wanted to change and suddenly it hit me like an ocean storm:
"I am SMALL. I am not that powerful! I can't change anyone-- all I can do is pray, and give people over to the Lord, and love them as best I can in the meantime."
Haha-- ironically, "Lay Em Down" by Needtobreathe is playing on Pandora right now.
That is what this TRUTH allows us to do: we can lay down our burdens. We can LET THEM GO.
Just this winter, again, I was stressing to my friend Shannon about a situation in my life that hadn't played out the way I wanted it to. I had a crush on a guy but I hadn't followed up with him-- mostly because I felt like God wanted me to chill out and pursue things with HIM for a while. But then I found out this guy had gotten back together with his girlfriend and I said to Shannon, "Shannon-- what if I missed my opportunity? This guy had totally showed interest in me! What if I just ruined what could have been a great thing?"
"Greta, you're not that big," she told me. "You are not powerful enough to mess up God's plan. If he's meant to come back into your life, he'll come back into your life."
What a RELIEF those words were to hear. It doesn't ALL depend on me. I am not that powerful! And thus, I can relinquish control; and thus, I can stop feeling so afraid that I'll mess up somehow; and thus, I can relax into freedom and trust in God.
Speaking of trusting God: I'll tell you the other way that Tower Thinking falls short. It fails to take into account the power of God.
We FEAR because we don't actually think He is as powerful as He says He is. And if He isn't as powerful as He claims to be, well then IT ALL DEPENDS ON US. I remember confronting this lie when I was looking for a teaching job. The economy had taken a nose dive, there were NO teaching jobs, and I was one of countless, jobless grad-student peons looking for employment. There was NO way I was going to find a job.
Tower Thinking in those moments is terrified. Because if it all depends on us, we're sunk. There is NO way we will be okay.
But-- as Annie once told me, "God will tax the farthest star to provide for His children." He is SO powerful, guys. And the more my own plans go awry, and the more His plans in my life play out, the more I recognize that He is powerful and that He is sovereign.
And I found a teaching job. Improbably. Impossibly. Because of Him, because He is that powerful.
And my whole first year of teaching, when I went through a season where I couldn't make it through a morning without crying, and I had to beg God to get me through the day because there was no WAY I could do this on my own...? I never broke down in front of the students. God got me through, and the year ended on an unbelievably awesome note. Not because I was powerful, but because He was powerful.
And furthermore-- the guy I had a crush on? He came back into my life with no prodding or cajoling or string-pulling from me. And I don't know where that's going, but God is sure doing awesome things in the meantime, and it wasn't ME that pulled this guy back into my life-- it was something far more powerful.
One last warning about this Tower Lie: if we think that it all depends on us, and that God is perhaps not as powerful as He claims-- well then, we also assume that everything depends on our other Tower Dwellers.
In other words, we think that THEY are more powerful than they actually are. Our fellow humans, in this light, are responsible for far more than they could ever actually be entrusted with.
They should fulfill.
They should not mess up.
They should perform with absolute consistency.
They should behave themselves.
They should give us what we need.
And if they don't, then they are failures, and they should never be trusted. Our psyches can become incredibly damaged by viewing others in this light-- we can become incredibly cynical and bitter about human nature if we expect others to be more than mere sinners: made in the image of God but with a knack for messing up. It does NOT all depend on other people-- it does all depend on God.
Once again though, I feel the need to assert that there are many areas of gray in all these considerations. Just as (I believe) the concepts of predestination and free-will somehow seem to co-exist, the concepts of human responsibility and Divine sovereignty must work in tandem. Sometimes God calls us to act, and then we must act. Sometimes God calls us to Be Still, and then we should simply Be Still. Sometimes God calls us to intervene, and then we must speak. Sometimes God calls us to Cease in Striving, and then we should simply rest. Sometimes God calls us to speak tough truth into someone's life; sometimes He calls us simply to let go and forgive.
Remember? There are no sure-fire formulas that work 100% of the time. That's why we must DANCE with our God; sometimes we need to move forward; sometimes we need to move back. Dancing requires close attention to our partner; it requires intimacy and listening. We must listen, and let Him lead. We must let HIM lead.
If we accept Grace for being small...
If we extend Grace to others for being small...
If we trust that God is, in fact, as powerful as He says He is...
Then, dears-- we find freedom.
1-- Pits, Towers, Fields and Dancing
2-- ... Thoughts on Sheep
3-- Getting out of the Towers
4-- The Shadowlands
5-- The Land of Grace: Casting Shadows
6-- When the Tower Crumbles: Getting to the Land of Grace
7-- A Disclaimer
8-- Holy Scripture, Batman
9--Shadows in the Land of Grace: the Comparison Game
10-- The ONLY One-- Other trips into the Land of Grace
11-- Real Life: one person's story of getting to the Land of Grace
Hey blogging world-- I've been gone for a bit. I finished up with school... my second year of teaching is DONE! I'm getting ready to head off to South Africa in a couple weeks, at which point this series will subside for a time and South Africa will emerge as the primary focus. I think I've also taken some time away from this series because the ideas haven't come as rapidly. I honestly believe all these "ideas" are coming from one main Source-- i.e. God-- and, whether it's because I haven't been as intentional about writing and processing in my journal, or whether it's because this analogy articulates itself as I live life-- the next idea has taken a while to arrive.
But it's here now, so I'll try to break it down.
Let's go back to the Towers-- let's go back to those people who are trying so hard to live life correctly, and to keep themselves safe, and are fearful of making shadows or letting people down, and are missing the best part of Grace: freedom.
I've realized that one of the most seductive lies which keeps people in the Towers is the idea that the Tower people have more power than they actually do. How do they think they have power? Here are some examples of Tower thinking:
"If I just read my Bible enough and pray with enough faith, everything in my life will go well."
"My friend is hurting and is making terrible decisions; I need to help them somehow."
"My girlfriend means SO MUCH to me, and I want to be her everything. I want to save her-- I want to fulfill her completely."
"My boyfriend is so far from God; I need to convince him that God is his one and only Savior."
"Things are not going how I want them to go right now. I need to do something different; something must be wrong with me."
"I'm afraid that [this bad thing] might happen. So I'll make sure I do [this, and this, and this] to protect myself from that EVER happening."
And so on.
These lies are deceptive because there's a lot of truth in them-- if our lives suck, it's probably the most practical first step to do some serious self-evaluation and to consider where we might make some healthy changes. Or if someone in our life is clearly hurting-- I don't think we should just sit idly by and let them suffer. We probably should DO something. And obviously, if we make healthy life choices, we'll set ourselves up to avoid pain. However, these "formulas" for success don't always work and in the moments when they fail, the Tower crumbles. The thing we'd feared most happens after all, and all our deposits into the safety account come up bankrupt. True safety cannot be found in the Towers; no matter how hard WE try, life and living will be dangerous, confusing, and risky.
This is my point: where Tower Thinking falls short is that it fails to acknowledge that we as people are SMALL.
Insulted?
Don't be. This should come as a giant relief.
I remember around this time last year, driving home from counseling, considering all the people in my life who were stressing me out and who I wanted to change and suddenly it hit me like an ocean storm:
"I am SMALL. I am not that powerful! I can't change anyone-- all I can do is pray, and give people over to the Lord, and love them as best I can in the meantime."
Haha-- ironically, "Lay Em Down" by Needtobreathe is playing on Pandora right now.
That is what this TRUTH allows us to do: we can lay down our burdens. We can LET THEM GO.
Just this winter, again, I was stressing to my friend Shannon about a situation in my life that hadn't played out the way I wanted it to. I had a crush on a guy but I hadn't followed up with him-- mostly because I felt like God wanted me to chill out and pursue things with HIM for a while. But then I found out this guy had gotten back together with his girlfriend and I said to Shannon, "Shannon-- what if I missed my opportunity? This guy had totally showed interest in me! What if I just ruined what could have been a great thing?"
"Greta, you're not that big," she told me. "You are not powerful enough to mess up God's plan. If he's meant to come back into your life, he'll come back into your life."
What a RELIEF those words were to hear. It doesn't ALL depend on me. I am not that powerful! And thus, I can relinquish control; and thus, I can stop feeling so afraid that I'll mess up somehow; and thus, I can relax into freedom and trust in God.
Speaking of trusting God: I'll tell you the other way that Tower Thinking falls short. It fails to take into account the power of God.
We FEAR because we don't actually think He is as powerful as He says He is. And if He isn't as powerful as He claims to be, well then IT ALL DEPENDS ON US. I remember confronting this lie when I was looking for a teaching job. The economy had taken a nose dive, there were NO teaching jobs, and I was one of countless, jobless grad-student peons looking for employment. There was NO way I was going to find a job.
Tower Thinking in those moments is terrified. Because if it all depends on us, we're sunk. There is NO way we will be okay.
But-- as Annie once told me, "God will tax the farthest star to provide for His children." He is SO powerful, guys. And the more my own plans go awry, and the more His plans in my life play out, the more I recognize that He is powerful and that He is sovereign.
And I found a teaching job. Improbably. Impossibly. Because of Him, because He is that powerful.
And my whole first year of teaching, when I went through a season where I couldn't make it through a morning without crying, and I had to beg God to get me through the day because there was no WAY I could do this on my own...? I never broke down in front of the students. God got me through, and the year ended on an unbelievably awesome note. Not because I was powerful, but because He was powerful.
And furthermore-- the guy I had a crush on? He came back into my life with no prodding or cajoling or string-pulling from me. And I don't know where that's going, but God is sure doing awesome things in the meantime, and it wasn't ME that pulled this guy back into my life-- it was something far more powerful.
One last warning about this Tower Lie: if we think that it all depends on us, and that God is perhaps not as powerful as He claims-- well then, we also assume that everything depends on our other Tower Dwellers.
In other words, we think that THEY are more powerful than they actually are. Our fellow humans, in this light, are responsible for far more than they could ever actually be entrusted with.
They should fulfill.
They should not mess up.
They should perform with absolute consistency.
They should behave themselves.
They should give us what we need.
And if they don't, then they are failures, and they should never be trusted. Our psyches can become incredibly damaged by viewing others in this light-- we can become incredibly cynical and bitter about human nature if we expect others to be more than mere sinners: made in the image of God but with a knack for messing up. It does NOT all depend on other people-- it does all depend on God.
Once again though, I feel the need to assert that there are many areas of gray in all these considerations. Just as (I believe) the concepts of predestination and free-will somehow seem to co-exist, the concepts of human responsibility and Divine sovereignty must work in tandem. Sometimes God calls us to act, and then we must act. Sometimes God calls us to Be Still, and then we should simply Be Still. Sometimes God calls us to intervene, and then we must speak. Sometimes God calls us to Cease in Striving, and then we should simply rest. Sometimes God calls us to speak tough truth into someone's life; sometimes He calls us simply to let go and forgive.
Remember? There are no sure-fire formulas that work 100% of the time. That's why we must DANCE with our God; sometimes we need to move forward; sometimes we need to move back. Dancing requires close attention to our partner; it requires intimacy and listening. We must listen, and let Him lead. We must let HIM lead.
If we accept Grace for being small...
If we extend Grace to others for being small...
If we trust that God is, in fact, as powerful as He says He is...
Then, dears-- we find freedom.
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.
Aug 8, 2009
Moth Wings Grace
Yesterday morning, I hit my head on feelings of intimidation and fear right when I woke up. My thoughts shouted at me, throwing stones and making cruel faces. How am I going to succeed at this new job?? How am I going to possibly plan three different classes, including Senior AP, when I have four grad school classes to finish?? I clutched my knees on the floor in the shower, and let the water beat down on me, and felt afraid, and felt small, and felt so unsure of myself.
And then I thought, "Next year will be exactly what it's supposed to be, because that is what God does." And I thought, "Trust anyway. Even though there are myriad reasons to doubt. Trust anyway. He got you this job, didn't he?"
And then I got out of the shower, and I saw a moth beating its wings against the stained glass window, covered in steam. The wings made the most magical pattern on the glass-- light and soft and perfectly unsynchronized-- tiny fans and feathers pleading release from a fog of hard obscurity. It flew to and fro, and the significance of the occasion made me wonder, awed. I once more felt wrapped up in reassurance of His beauty, His attention to the smallest things, the way He can draw the loveliest painting on a window with the dust of a moth's wings and the vapor from streaming water.
I just watched the moth create, and felt so astounded, and so thankful.
Then I opened the window, set it free, and felt a little more courage in facing the day.
And then I thought, "Next year will be exactly what it's supposed to be, because that is what God does." And I thought, "Trust anyway. Even though there are myriad reasons to doubt. Trust anyway. He got you this job, didn't he?"
And then I got out of the shower, and I saw a moth beating its wings against the stained glass window, covered in steam. The wings made the most magical pattern on the glass-- light and soft and perfectly unsynchronized-- tiny fans and feathers pleading release from a fog of hard obscurity. It flew to and fro, and the significance of the occasion made me wonder, awed. I once more felt wrapped up in reassurance of His beauty, His attention to the smallest things, the way He can draw the loveliest painting on a window with the dust of a moth's wings and the vapor from streaming water.
I just watched the moth create, and felt so astounded, and so thankful.
Then I opened the window, set it free, and felt a little more courage in facing the day.
May 19, 2009
Confession
Today, a guest poet came to perform for our kids. Through the course of the day, he recited many outstanding poems, many of which subtly derided God and the idea of religion. When one girl asked if there was any one experience or thought that showed up in almost all of his writing, he admitted that religion did. Although he didn't get specific, he DID say that he had been told once that he was going to go to hell for being himself, and he stated adamantly that he didn't believe THAT anymore. It was clear that he had been shown a face of religion that all too many people are shown-- that of judgement, anger, and condemnation, rather than love, welcome, and grace. It grieved me deeply, as I've had several conversations lately with people who have told me about the battle-scars they've walked away with after church services. After a day of hearing poetry, my thoughts in response to this came out in the abstract verse below. I took great creative license in "quoting" this man in the beginning of the poem-- however, whether or not those are words he would say, I would venture that they have been thought/felt/spoken, if not by him, by one of the many other people who have been shown a mangled face of Jesus.
"There are no scars on His hands or His wrists," he says
"But my heart is clenched like a fist," he says
"What else could it be, when they shouted out 'Hell!' to a boy who was only being himself? And these sinners, these speakers, they unfurled floods of anger, they sneered while condemning their own vice and dangers, they steered their church across my knees, I see train wrecks, I see ship wrecks, I hear them speak, 'You: fault line, no straight lines where you come from,' they said, they said, they said to me.
"Angels make wings, right? They fly, right?
"But the feathers I found were only rubbed-out eyelashes for wishes made upon,
"Wish for light,
"Wish for wholeness,
"She put me to bed, said 'Sweet dreams son,' but running is all I dream about.
"I want wishes, I want light,
"And she pulls out her lashes to get me through the night.
"She says, 'One of these days, we'll both wake up with grace on our pillows.'
"I tried to follow.
"They said flames, they named names, but when I offered up mine,
"They said, 'Beast, away,'
"I looked for light, I looked for freedom, I tried to fly but hit the ceiling,
"There was no light switch, there was no quick fix, I said the prayer, I said, 'Pick me then!'
"But what I found was cold religion.
"'Do as I say, not as I do.
"'He forgives sinners, except sinners like you.
"'Toe the line kid, and do it our way
"'Take up the cross or rue the day
"'You didn't.'
"Just myself," he says.
"I was just myself
"And they said that that
"Was plenty hell-worthy."
I take it in.
I ache within,
I've said those words,
I've dug a hole for burials of lesser souls
I've nailed the lid on the coffin.
I confess. I confess.
I confess, I did.
And I look at a man with residue
Of religion gone wrong, of God misused.
He cried out for help, and he got abuse, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry
I'm sorry, I did.
We should have said, come as you are.
Should have said, right there too.
Should have said, I'll just listen
Since speaking is so over-used.
And no shaking fingers,
No skeptical foreheads
The face He had
Could not have been the face you read
From us.
Where do I begin?
Is there water to wash the damage, to clean off the face of a Lord we've mangled, to wipe the eyebrows to clean the nail beds, are there waves to recreate the music we've savaged? Is there water to make the sunrise, to send up steam for reflective cloud skies shape them in angels, shape out the feathers, send down a real one to a boy still asleep, send it to the boy who is running through dreams, send it then, send him grace, send him grace on his pillow.
Rouse him gently.
Show him a face of kindness first.
Don't speak, don't hurt, just deepen eyes,
Soften your breathing,
Just show him a sigh, show him healing.
If you open your mouth, you should only sing something lullaby,
Just quiet-like.
Let the light creep in through the window
And let that soften the harsher corners,
Let that ruffle the dusty curtains,
Let that chase away the spiders,
Let that reach into monster corners,
Let that blow the cobwebs and ashes,
He is just a boy, he is just
Himself
And that is loved. And that is worth holding.
Let the dawn break
On the heart that he's clutching.
I can't begin to apologize
For the lies the lies the lies the lies
That said you weren't acceptable.
Those words are damnable.
Saving
Should be a safe place to land
Grace
Should be a strong weathered hand
His face
Should say, "I understand,
"And I love you, I love you, I love you,
"It's love
"Like sand on the shore
"Like rain from the sky
"Like poppy weed buds that fire burst bright
"I love you like this
"I love you right now
"I love you running and aching and braving and shaking and falling and breaking again, and I loved you then
"And I loved you then
"And I loved you then, even then."
It's kindness
We missed it
It's mercy we forgot.
Instead of His words,
We sang funeral songs.
I confess,
And I'm sorry.
And I pray with my lashes,
That His face in the sunrise
Gives you grace
And not ashes.
_
"There are no scars on His hands or His wrists," he says
"But my heart is clenched like a fist," he says
"What else could it be, when they shouted out 'Hell!' to a boy who was only being himself? And these sinners, these speakers, they unfurled floods of anger, they sneered while condemning their own vice and dangers, they steered their church across my knees, I see train wrecks, I see ship wrecks, I hear them speak, 'You: fault line, no straight lines where you come from,' they said, they said, they said to me.
"Angels make wings, right? They fly, right?
"But the feathers I found were only rubbed-out eyelashes for wishes made upon,
"Wish for light,
"Wish for wholeness,
"She put me to bed, said 'Sweet dreams son,' but running is all I dream about.
"I want wishes, I want light,
"And she pulls out her lashes to get me through the night.
"She says, 'One of these days, we'll both wake up with grace on our pillows.'
"I tried to follow.
"They said flames, they named names, but when I offered up mine,
"They said, 'Beast, away,'
"I looked for light, I looked for freedom, I tried to fly but hit the ceiling,
"There was no light switch, there was no quick fix, I said the prayer, I said, 'Pick me then!'
"But what I found was cold religion.
"'Do as I say, not as I do.
"'He forgives sinners, except sinners like you.
"'Toe the line kid, and do it our way
"'Take up the cross or rue the day
"'You didn't.'
"Just myself," he says.
"I was just myself
"And they said that that
"Was plenty hell-worthy."
I take it in.
I ache within,
I've said those words,
I've dug a hole for burials of lesser souls
I've nailed the lid on the coffin.
I confess. I confess.
I confess, I did.
And I look at a man with residue
Of religion gone wrong, of God misused.
He cried out for help, and he got abuse, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry
I'm sorry, I did.
We should have said, come as you are.
Should have said, right there too.
Should have said, I'll just listen
Since speaking is so over-used.
And no shaking fingers,
No skeptical foreheads
The face He had
Could not have been the face you read
From us.
Where do I begin?
Is there water to wash the damage, to clean off the face of a Lord we've mangled, to wipe the eyebrows to clean the nail beds, are there waves to recreate the music we've savaged? Is there water to make the sunrise, to send up steam for reflective cloud skies shape them in angels, shape out the feathers, send down a real one to a boy still asleep, send it to the boy who is running through dreams, send it then, send him grace, send him grace on his pillow.
Rouse him gently.
Show him a face of kindness first.
Don't speak, don't hurt, just deepen eyes,
Soften your breathing,
Just show him a sigh, show him healing.
If you open your mouth, you should only sing something lullaby,
Just quiet-like.
Let the light creep in through the window
And let that soften the harsher corners,
Let that ruffle the dusty curtains,
Let that chase away the spiders,
Let that reach into monster corners,
Let that blow the cobwebs and ashes,
He is just a boy, he is just
Himself
And that is loved. And that is worth holding.
Let the dawn break
On the heart that he's clutching.
I can't begin to apologize
For the lies the lies the lies the lies
That said you weren't acceptable.
Those words are damnable.
Saving
Should be a safe place to land
Grace
Should be a strong weathered hand
His face
Should say, "I understand,
"And I love you, I love you, I love you,
"It's love
"Like sand on the shore
"Like rain from the sky
"Like poppy weed buds that fire burst bright
"I love you like this
"I love you right now
"I love you running and aching and braving and shaking and falling and breaking again, and I loved you then
"And I loved you then
"And I loved you then, even then."
It's kindness
We missed it
It's mercy we forgot.
Instead of His words,
We sang funeral songs.
I confess,
And I'm sorry.
And I pray with my lashes,
That His face in the sunrise
Gives you grace
And not ashes.
_
Apr 7, 2008
One More Blogger "Puts It OUT There"
You know the scene during the opening credits in the movie, “Grease,” when everyone is cartoonified? Sandy is perfect, and blonde, and has fluffy animals frolicking at her feet, and she has a canopy bed, yes, indeed, a canopy bed.
I’m using to being that. The mostly-perfect one. I’ve been a model daughter, a model student, a model mentor, and a squeaky clean Christian. I tried ballet, and was good at ballet. I tried acting and was good at acting. I tried guitar, and was able to write songs and sing them. I dress well. I’m social. People like me, dang it.
But this year has been a year of…. Not That.
I work at a silly job. “You? Are doing THAT for a living? I would have never expected that from you… I thought you were supposed to be a gypsy soul. You? Are doing THAT?”
I have fallen out of touch with important, special people. “Who? Who is this? You? I’m sorry I think you’ve got the wrong number. You couldn’t be her. I think she might be dead.”
I met with the Young Adults Leader Dude at my church at the beginning of this year, and told him that I would be his GO-TO-GIRL for Women’s Ministry. Then I fell off the map. I flaked on him. I stopped going altogether, and when I got follow-up emails, I didn’t respond. I am that flaky person that drove me crazy when I was trying to organize church leadership. “Hello? We were just wondering? If you were going to do anything? That you said you would?”
I was going to write a book at the beginning of this year. I wrote an intro, an outline, a first chapter. It was going to be about challenging the negative female body ideals that are so prevalent in this culture. I rented library books to research the issue. I didn’t read them. I stopped writing the book. I returned the library books late. I lost one altogether. I started wearing make-up again. I would challenge my imperfect face in the mirror; rub bronzer on my cheeks and fiercely argue with the nobler thoughts. “I don’t want to save the world today. I just want to feel pretty.”
It goes on. I have plenty of woe-is-me examples, but today I got hit with one in particular that just made me feel so lame. My dear friend and travel buddy Nicole is taking off to be a park ranger for seven months. This Saturday, she had a goodbye party. I was invited. I didn’t look at the Evite. I forgot to RSVP. I forgot the party. And I didn’t go. This girl is a GOOD friend of mine, and I totally spaced on her celebration.
So what do I do with all this? Holy Voice says, “Accept Grace little ragamuffin,” and I know that’s the answer. None of us are perfect, can be perfect, will be perfect—there’s a reason we need a Savior. But honestly? Looking at that concept, and accepting it in a way that is heart-felt are two different hills to climb. Intellectually, I know that I have received enough grace to dive into and splash around in. But emotionally, I still feel like a laaaame-o.
I heard a sermon last night that was about being present right where you’re at, and finding the purpose in what would seem like a random situation. The pastor talked about Einstein, who apparently had trouble finding a job after graduation. Einstein applied to every physicist in Europe—multiple times. No one would hire him. Einstein deserves a “FAILURE” forehead-sticker too right? He probably thought so anyway.
He ended up working in a patent office. It was a very silly job. But it only took him two hours to get all his work done; the other seven he spent doing physics. He explored his own ideas, unleashed his own theories… And in doing so, came up with E=mc², along with a whole lot of other mammoth brilliance.
I see that God puts people in places for a reason. I see that He can turn seeming failures into successes. His own death on the cross seemed like a shattering failure to everyone who expected him to overthrow the Roman Empire, I’m sure. But the cross wasn’t about politics or winning the popularity vote-- it was about establishing grace for loserly losers; for perfectionists putting on a show. It was so that He could say to me, every time I feel like slapping a Failure sticker on my forehead, “Stop being so dramatic. Don’t dwell in pity puddles, because I’ve already forgiven you and taken care of it. Now go do something productive. Go swing.”
Working on the heart part. Working on the head part too, because let’s be honest: that could use a little bolstering. In the meantime, I do thank God for Grace, and for forgiveness, and for not wasting even silly jobs, and for the possibility of triumphant surprising successes out of failures. I also thank Him for dear friends like Nicole, who had the decency to cut me some slack with words that were impossibly gracious.
And I doubt that I’ll be coming up with the next advancement in quantum physics while killing the hours at this slow, silly job. But.
I can continue to improve my paint skills.
I’m using to being that. The mostly-perfect one. I’ve been a model daughter, a model student, a model mentor, and a squeaky clean Christian. I tried ballet, and was good at ballet. I tried acting and was good at acting. I tried guitar, and was able to write songs and sing them. I dress well. I’m social. People like me, dang it.
But this year has been a year of…. Not That.
I work at a silly job. “You? Are doing THAT for a living? I would have never expected that from you… I thought you were supposed to be a gypsy soul. You? Are doing THAT?”
I have fallen out of touch with important, special people. “Who? Who is this? You? I’m sorry I think you’ve got the wrong number. You couldn’t be her. I think she might be dead.”
I met with the Young Adults Leader Dude at my church at the beginning of this year, and told him that I would be his GO-TO-GIRL for Women’s Ministry. Then I fell off the map. I flaked on him. I stopped going altogether, and when I got follow-up emails, I didn’t respond. I am that flaky person that drove me crazy when I was trying to organize church leadership. “Hello? We were just wondering? If you were going to do anything? That you said you would?”
I was going to write a book at the beginning of this year. I wrote an intro, an outline, a first chapter. It was going to be about challenging the negative female body ideals that are so prevalent in this culture. I rented library books to research the issue. I didn’t read them. I stopped writing the book. I returned the library books late. I lost one altogether. I started wearing make-up again. I would challenge my imperfect face in the mirror; rub bronzer on my cheeks and fiercely argue with the nobler thoughts. “I don’t want to save the world today. I just want to feel pretty.”
It goes on. I have plenty of woe-is-me examples, but today I got hit with one in particular that just made me feel so lame. My dear friend and travel buddy Nicole is taking off to be a park ranger for seven months. This Saturday, she had a goodbye party. I was invited. I didn’t look at the Evite. I forgot to RSVP. I forgot the party. And I didn’t go. This girl is a GOOD friend of mine, and I totally spaced on her celebration.
So what do I do with all this? Holy Voice says, “Accept Grace little ragamuffin,” and I know that’s the answer. None of us are perfect, can be perfect, will be perfect—there’s a reason we need a Savior. But honestly? Looking at that concept, and accepting it in a way that is heart-felt are two different hills to climb. Intellectually, I know that I have received enough grace to dive into and splash around in. But emotionally, I still feel like a laaaame-o.
I heard a sermon last night that was about being present right where you’re at, and finding the purpose in what would seem like a random situation. The pastor talked about Einstein, who apparently had trouble finding a job after graduation. Einstein applied to every physicist in Europe—multiple times. No one would hire him. Einstein deserves a “FAILURE” forehead-sticker too right? He probably thought so anyway.
He ended up working in a patent office. It was a very silly job. But it only took him two hours to get all his work done; the other seven he spent doing physics. He explored his own ideas, unleashed his own theories… And in doing so, came up with E=mc², along with a whole lot of other mammoth brilliance.
I see that God puts people in places for a reason. I see that He can turn seeming failures into successes. His own death on the cross seemed like a shattering failure to everyone who expected him to overthrow the Roman Empire, I’m sure. But the cross wasn’t about politics or winning the popularity vote-- it was about establishing grace for loserly losers; for perfectionists putting on a show. It was so that He could say to me, every time I feel like slapping a Failure sticker on my forehead, “Stop being so dramatic. Don’t dwell in pity puddles, because I’ve already forgiven you and taken care of it. Now go do something productive. Go swing.”
Working on the heart part. Working on the head part too, because let’s be honest: that could use a little bolstering. In the meantime, I do thank God for Grace, and for forgiveness, and for not wasting even silly jobs, and for the possibility of triumphant surprising successes out of failures. I also thank Him for dear friends like Nicole, who had the decency to cut me some slack with words that were impossibly gracious.
And I doubt that I’ll be coming up with the next advancement in quantum physics while killing the hours at this slow, silly job. But.
I can continue to improve my paint skills.
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