Yesterday was the first day of Advent. I love Advent, maybe more than I love Christmas. I love looking forward to Him. I love the double-edged nature of Advent now, looking back to when He came, looking forward to His coming again.
Tonight I turned on the Music of Silence and now I'm basking in it, the glory of voices echoing out solemn and beautiful.
There's still a lot to be done before the end of the semester. But some of that is laughing and sharing memories and drinking in the beautiful and my heart crying out, Come quickly...
But of the Son he says,
“Your throne, O God, is forever and ever,
the scepter of uprightness is the scepter of your kingdom.
You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness;
therefore God, your God, has anointed you
with the oil of gladness beyond your companions.”
(Hebrews 1:8-9 ESV)
Monday, November 29, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Recent Pieces of the Semester in Photos and a Few Words
Midnight showing of Harry Potter with a bunch of my best friends...
Days spin by in a dizzying drift
Calender pages floating to the floor
Slipping from my over-full hands.
“SHUT UP! I’M TELLING A STORY! I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO TELL YOU THE STORY!”
So I follow Your footsteps
And the sound of Your voice
To the place where light meets the evening...
Thursday, November 18, 2010
More Than Enough
Two years ago seems like a long time.
But as I realize that the semester is thundering towards its end in a blizzard of papers due and presentations to give, more knowledge in my head and hopefully more wisdom in my life, I'm thinking about what it was like two years ago.
The college years, it seems, are full and fast and it's hard to remember last week, let alone my first year here. But I stretch out my fingers to that time, trying to recall who I was then and what I wish I had known, trying to see who I need to be, what needs to change in me in the time coming.
I pull up pictures on my screen from that first semester. Dag, sunshine, Frontier Club, people who I barely knew then and now count as friends. Fall leaves, a friend's soccer game on her birthday, eating meals in the dining hall, in peoples' homes. A small concert in the gym, first snow, a retreat one cold and icy weekend. Winter Wonderland, with my hall transformed from bare white walls by paper and markers and lost sleep. A bunch of different people trying on a hoodie, struggles zipping it up. Christmas dinner with my Greek class. I remember these things. And there are a lot of memories tied to each of these, the laughter and the backstories, how I first met these people and why we became friends, why we stayed.
I thought I was mature then. Now I look back and wonder at how little I knew... which makes me think that in a few years, I'll do the same thing all over again to myself now. It seems to be how life works.
My accountability group had laughed kindly at how excited I was about everything -- the coming classes, my homework... I was enthusiasm and they said it was refreshing and I wondered how on earth anyone ever lost that excitement. I think I know more of the answer now; you get older and you get busier and you learn to not be so fast to be excited about everything, that there is generally some cost involved and it will take its toll on you. I didn't know that then. I think I'm glad that I didn't.
I'm working on relearning enthusiasm and smiling at everything. I'd rather be open and get hurt sometimes than be wary of everything, locked in a self-designed prison of armor. I'd rather pray boldly and give God what is really on my heart than come to Him with a few safe requests that I won't be disappointed if He doesn't grant.
One of the hard questions I was asked about a year ago by a friend was something like this: "Would you as you are now still have chosen to be friends with me?"
I wanted the answer to be yes. But I don't know what the truth is in that case. Because I have become better at seeing and recognizing pain and darkness. Two years ago I was a good bit more oblivious, and more sure that I could take on anything. Now there are things that I am more liable to recognize from a mile away and that gives me a difficult decision... stay or go?
I still want the answer to be yes.
I want the answer to be, Wherever He leads me, I will follow.
And I want my following to be fast eager running, not begrudging doling out of energy.
Because He is more than enough. He was more than enough two years ago. He's more than enough still.
But as I realize that the semester is thundering towards its end in a blizzard of papers due and presentations to give, more knowledge in my head and hopefully more wisdom in my life, I'm thinking about what it was like two years ago.
The college years, it seems, are full and fast and it's hard to remember last week, let alone my first year here. But I stretch out my fingers to that time, trying to recall who I was then and what I wish I had known, trying to see who I need to be, what needs to change in me in the time coming.
I pull up pictures on my screen from that first semester. Dag, sunshine, Frontier Club, people who I barely knew then and now count as friends. Fall leaves, a friend's soccer game on her birthday, eating meals in the dining hall, in peoples' homes. A small concert in the gym, first snow, a retreat one cold and icy weekend. Winter Wonderland, with my hall transformed from bare white walls by paper and markers and lost sleep. A bunch of different people trying on a hoodie, struggles zipping it up. Christmas dinner with my Greek class. I remember these things. And there are a lot of memories tied to each of these, the laughter and the backstories, how I first met these people and why we became friends, why we stayed.
I thought I was mature then. Now I look back and wonder at how little I knew... which makes me think that in a few years, I'll do the same thing all over again to myself now. It seems to be how life works.
My accountability group had laughed kindly at how excited I was about everything -- the coming classes, my homework... I was enthusiasm and they said it was refreshing and I wondered how on earth anyone ever lost that excitement. I think I know more of the answer now; you get older and you get busier and you learn to not be so fast to be excited about everything, that there is generally some cost involved and it will take its toll on you. I didn't know that then. I think I'm glad that I didn't.
I'm working on relearning enthusiasm and smiling at everything. I'd rather be open and get hurt sometimes than be wary of everything, locked in a self-designed prison of armor. I'd rather pray boldly and give God what is really on my heart than come to Him with a few safe requests that I won't be disappointed if He doesn't grant.
With the fears of a girl
and the heart of a woman
and everything that runs in between...
[Sandra McCracken]
One of the hard questions I was asked about a year ago by a friend was something like this: "Would you as you are now still have chosen to be friends with me?"
I wanted the answer to be yes. But I don't know what the truth is in that case. Because I have become better at seeing and recognizing pain and darkness. Two years ago I was a good bit more oblivious, and more sure that I could take on anything. Now there are things that I am more liable to recognize from a mile away and that gives me a difficult decision... stay or go?
I still want the answer to be yes.
I want the answer to be, Wherever He leads me, I will follow.
And I want my following to be fast eager running, not begrudging doling out of energy.
Because He is more than enough. He was more than enough two years ago. He's more than enough still.
Postmodernism and Job
We were discussing postmodernism today in Humanities. I know that I have blogged about it before, but here were some thoughts and questions from today's discussion.
Should "postmodernism" be understood as what those who first began using the term -- Foucault, Derrida, Lyotard -- meant it as (which are not always the same thing) or as it is commonly used today, by people on the street? By students in the classroom? Does a word mean only one thing?
What does it indicate when the majority of the students in the classroom -- and we're a pretty traditional bunch of students, in the 18-22 year old range or so -- are extremely frustrated by cultural artifacts such as the postmodern poetry of Hannah Weiner? So... maybe it's clever. But we want to know what it means, and we're sure that it does have a meaning, that no one puts meaningless words on a page and no one publishes (totally) meaningless things. And we want to know what this meaning is.
I've been told that postmodernism is a reaction to the "power play" of modernism, that it was a backlash against modernism trying to take over subversively...
I don't think so. If I'm going to try to speak in such broad sweeping terms of philosophical movements at all, I think it's far more about trust and that being sustained or broken. I believe that a lot of the suspicions in postmodernism grow out of the complex soil of our own fallen human nature, which prefers to trust ourselves rather than any authority, rightful or not, and out of some deeply broken trusts in recent times. (I've talked about that a lot before. I think it has to do with things like abortion... soaring divorce rates... corrupt governments... wars that kill more civilians than combatants...)
Finally, one of my biggest gripes with people who decide they like "postmodernism" -- however you're going to define it -- and that they're going to hunker down there and build a summer home. No. No. Don't do it. RUN AWAY. Run to Christ. Postmodernism is based on a lot of lack of trust, a lot of questions about everything. "Why?" is a good and legitimate question in some settings. You can ask "Why?" about pretty much everything -- and postmoderns do, I do, but it is not always good to ask. There is a place to hold authorities accountable, but there is also a place to shut up and respectfully submit and trust.
There are so many questions that it is better not to ask, and I am learning that very slowly. There are some questions that humans are not meant to find the answers to, because finding those answers exacts a horrible, horrible price, and it changes everything. Sometimes costly questions must be asked, and answers must be sought despite high prices.
But what does it say when we only want to ask questions and never to be still and listen?
My friend Raora wrote about this in a haunting section of poetry.
Eve never should have questioned the goodness of God in the Garden. Never.
Last spring I discussed this with a friend of mine, as he told me a story of a fight, of self-defense and then we looked at each other and our eyes mirrored our dreadful conclusion: There are some things it's better to never find out, better to never know.
And to run to Him for grace instead.
Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer You?
I lay my hand on my mouth.
I have spoken once, and I will not answer;
twice, but I will proceed no further.
~Job 40:4-5
Should "postmodernism" be understood as what those who first began using the term -- Foucault, Derrida, Lyotard -- meant it as (which are not always the same thing) or as it is commonly used today, by people on the street? By students in the classroom? Does a word mean only one thing?
What does it indicate when the majority of the students in the classroom -- and we're a pretty traditional bunch of students, in the 18-22 year old range or so -- are extremely frustrated by cultural artifacts such as the postmodern poetry of Hannah Weiner? So... maybe it's clever. But we want to know what it means, and we're sure that it does have a meaning, that no one puts meaningless words on a page and no one publishes (totally) meaningless things. And we want to know what this meaning is.
I've been told that postmodernism is a reaction to the "power play" of modernism, that it was a backlash against modernism trying to take over subversively...
I don't think so. If I'm going to try to speak in such broad sweeping terms of philosophical movements at all, I think it's far more about trust and that being sustained or broken. I believe that a lot of the suspicions in postmodernism grow out of the complex soil of our own fallen human nature, which prefers to trust ourselves rather than any authority, rightful or not, and out of some deeply broken trusts in recent times. (I've talked about that a lot before. I think it has to do with things like abortion... soaring divorce rates... corrupt governments... wars that kill more civilians than combatants...)
Finally, one of my biggest gripes with people who decide they like "postmodernism" -- however you're going to define it -- and that they're going to hunker down there and build a summer home. No. No. Don't do it. RUN AWAY. Run to Christ. Postmodernism is based on a lot of lack of trust, a lot of questions about everything. "Why?" is a good and legitimate question in some settings. You can ask "Why?" about pretty much everything -- and postmoderns do, I do, but it is not always good to ask. There is a place to hold authorities accountable, but there is also a place to shut up and respectfully submit and trust.
There are so many questions that it is better not to ask, and I am learning that very slowly. There are some questions that humans are not meant to find the answers to, because finding those answers exacts a horrible, horrible price, and it changes everything. Sometimes costly questions must be asked, and answers must be sought despite high prices.
But what does it say when we only want to ask questions and never to be still and listen?
My friend Raora wrote about this in a haunting section of poetry.
There are questions that are curses
There are things we must not ask
When the Present moment merges
With the Shadows of the Past.
Eve never should have questioned the goodness of God in the Garden. Never.
Last spring I discussed this with a friend of mine, as he told me a story of a fight, of self-defense and then we looked at each other and our eyes mirrored our dreadful conclusion: There are some things it's better to never find out, better to never know.
And to run to Him for grace instead.
I am hanging on every word you say
And even if you don't want to speak tonight
That's alright, alright with me
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit
Outside Heaven's door and listen to you breathing
Is where I want to be [Lifehouse]
Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer You?
I lay my hand on my mouth.
I have spoken once, and I will not answer;
twice, but I will proceed no further.
~Job 40:4-5
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Tonight's Report of God's Goodness
It's good being a junior.
Tonight I'm sitting in a lounge of a building I used to live in, with two freshmen. We've been goofing off. I went to find one of them to watch a movie, but he was coming over here to do homework. I don't think either of them have made much progress on the homework, and I can't say that I've accomplished a ton either.
But in non-homework terms, there's been plenty accomplished (even though that hasn't included watching the movie that we wanted to watch...)
We've laughed. A lot. Talked about how we all hate 2010: A Space Odyssey. Distracted each other and swapped stories of epic events and epic fails and totally unepic every day stuff. Mostly we've laughed.
We've shared little snips of who we are -- middle names, siblings, churches. Argued over the difference (or lack thereof) between the words "normal" and "average".
And I find myself thinking, this is how the threads are woven together. These randomish times together are the ways in which we grow together and the way relationships grow strong and the things that will hold together when other things fall apart.
God is good.
Tonight I'm sitting in a lounge of a building I used to live in, with two freshmen. We've been goofing off. I went to find one of them to watch a movie, but he was coming over here to do homework. I don't think either of them have made much progress on the homework, and I can't say that I've accomplished a ton either.
But in non-homework terms, there's been plenty accomplished (even though that hasn't included watching the movie that we wanted to watch...)
We've laughed. A lot. Talked about how we all hate 2010: A Space Odyssey. Distracted each other and swapped stories of epic events and epic fails and totally unepic every day stuff. Mostly we've laughed.
We've shared little snips of who we are -- middle names, siblings, churches. Argued over the difference (or lack thereof) between the words "normal" and "average".
And I find myself thinking, this is how the threads are woven together. These randomish times together are the ways in which we grow together and the way relationships grow strong and the things that will hold together when other things fall apart.
God is good.
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