The Story Woven

The ground was white with snow.

We were spending the weekend in a "cabin" -- sort of a hunting retreat -- in the middle of nowhere, four hours' drive, slow behind the plow/salt truck. It was a long weekend for most of us, with no classes on Monday for MLK day, and we were taking some time to sleep and read, do homework and cook and catch up with each other's lives. With no internet access. With no phone service, except the landline, kept for emergencies.

And so -- Saturday -- we went for a walk in the woods. (A suibien kind of walk, my Chinese friends would say. It took me a while to explain that to my roommate once. I said I was going for a walk. "Where?" she asked. "Around campus," I said. "Where?" she asked. "I don't know," I said. "Nowhere." She stared at me. "Why?" "No reason, I just want to." She smiled. "Oh, a a suibien walk," she said, with understanding. It took me longer to get a general feel for what suibien meant. Random. Whatever you want.)

We slipped around on the ice and put our feet through where it was thin, endangering our shoes with the hidden pockets of freezing, muddy water. We posed on the hillside and took pictures.

And on our way back to the cabin, I took a deep breath. Thinking again about Proverbs 3:27, about a conversation that I had known I wanted to have from the time I decided to go to the cabin for that weekend.

Proverbs 3:17 says: Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it. I tend to think of that especially in terms of encouraging people, when you have a sense of perspective on their life that they are likely to not be able to see on their own.

If you've read older posts, maybe you've seen this one, the one called It's a Wonderful Life. If you haven't, the story makes more sense if you read it.

So I walked a little faster and caught up to him. We talked about jobs and school and such. And then I took another breath and said Thank you. I don't really remember exactly how I explained it. But I know that he is continuing to be in positions of authority; he has a wife, he has men under him. And he has much to offer in terms of growing them.

It unlocked parts of the weekend that wouldn't have been there, otherwise. Some laughter, because we got to know each other better than we would have. Some discussion, washing dishes -- So what has God been teaching you? What have you been learning? -- that came far more naturally when we knew that there was a context for it to fall into, that we'd already been part of the same conversation, if not really introduced to each other before.

It is beautiful how God weaves life together.

The Goodness of God

This point keeps coming up recently:

We sin because we don't really believe that God is good.

Last weekend I was at a staff training seminar for CCO where Tim Geiger, who works for Harvest USA, was speaking. His focus was sexual sin (and holiness), and he was talking about how sin -- any sin -- is based in a desire for something that's good. The problem is that we move this from being a good desire into being an ultimate end, something we're determined to get at any cost.

Tim Keller made this same point very well in Counterfeit Gods.

And I was discussing this last night with ZhongguoTim [okay, I realize that I have now talked about three Tims in a row. Not sure why that's how it happened, but there it is]. I know that this is where sin comes from -- that

each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death. (James 1:14-15) --

but I need to keep hearing it. It's easy to justify my behaviors and find acceptable behaviors that are still motivated by sin. We talked about grades, about building relationships with people. Are these motivated by desires to glorify God? Or to feel in control?

James gives us the antidote for this poisonous inclination in the next few verses.

Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. (James 1:16-17)

If we believe that everything good comes from God, then we will trust Him.

We talked about this again today in my Environmental Ethics class, when we were discussing how God had decreed that Israel give the land a rest every seven years. How hard would that have been to obey? I would have thought, Are You crazy? I'll starve! My teacher summed it up well. "We think that if we obey God, bad things will happen."

Yep. There's the heart of the lie we believe.

So instead... we have to let go of trusting in ourselves and cling to the risky belief that God is trustworthy, that He is good. That He is omniscient and does know all of our circumstances. That He's omnipotent and has the power to work all things for good. That He's omnipresent and is with us in everything, is working in everything.

And mostly that He is all good, and that He desires good for His children.

Habits

[As a slight disclaimer... I've been meaning to post this for about a month, and just haven't gotten around to it. Not that it makes much difference, but here it is.]

I was reading The Divine Conspiracy (still; it didn't make my packing list for China so it kind of got put on hold) and hit a section on how much sin comes from habits.

I've thought more about habits in the past three months than I probably ever had before, because as soon as we got to China we started realizing that we had all kind of habits that were so deeply engrained we didn't even realize that they were habits, we just thought they were how life was. And we longed to rebuild a similar set of routine habits, so that we could do things like eat and buy groceries and shower on autopilot. It takes a lot of energy to consciously think about everything that we do in the course of a day.

Anyway, I think there is a lot to be said for what was being said in Divine Conspiracy: our habits are so unthought about that it's hard to remember that they exist, and it's hard to put effort into making whole something so ingrained that we've forgotten it's broken.

There are plenty of examples of this. I mean, why does George Bailey never fix the knob on the railing in It's a Wonderful Life? Does he even remember that it shouldn't pop off all the time by the end of the movie? Or last year, I went to a party at a friend's house and fell through one of his porch steps on the way up. Someone mentioned it and his response was along the lines of, “Oh yeah, that's been broken, you just have to skip it.” Or... fix it?

Maybe that was part of what was so radical and vital about the Reformation, the requickening of the idea that God says “Mine” about all of creation. That it's not just about Sundays and holidays and the clergy, but equally about Monday morning and Friday nigh, about the butcher and the baker and the candlestick maker.

That God is just as interested in the money that we don't give in tithes and offerings as He is in the money that we throw into the offering plate.

So the motto of CCO that I grew up around – All of life redeemed – is a precious and beautiful one to have woven into your being.

And I think about Ann Voskamp (www.aholyexperience.com) and yes, how seeking to give thanks for all things at all times – this will protect us from much sin. It forces intentionality about many of the hidden desires of our hearts. It begins making whole what we forgot was there, let alone broken.

Story-writing and Providence

As I keep working on a long story with friends this summer, I have discovered that one of the chief things I try to do to characters is to break them. I am continually throwing them into very difficult situations, and forcing them to meet and get to know other characters who they can't stand, and generally making their lives miserable.

Why do I do this?

It's not just because I'm sadistic and enjoy driving my co-writers insane (although I do sometimes enjoy that too...) but it's because that is really the only way in which the story works. Characters, even ones that I designed, do not typically want to do what they should. If I leave them where they're comfortable, they never go anywhere. A lot of them would never interact, and there would be very little depth or richness to the story. They grow through the things I force them into.

Breaking reveals what they are made of.

Over and over, I keep pushing them until I find their flaws, burning that out of them, and making them into the characters I want, pulling their threads together into the story that I want.

The analogy could be stretched too far, I'm sure, but it is giving me a greater appreciation for how God molds us.

I don't just give my characters tough stuff to the limits of their endurance. I push them past. God throws us into places where we need Him.

My characters (and whoever is trying to work with them to write the story) tend to hate it. But it works. It makes everything make sense, and it does make the characters more real. It makes the story work properly.

I am very glad, though, that God knows what He's doing. I stumble my way through words and scenes, wanting to bash my head against the wall and wanting to throttle most of the characters. After a while, pieces fall into place and I'm happy then, but it doesn't mean that I know how the next conversation fits into the overall picture.

God does.

So I am content.

End of Summer

I've been busy with countdowns recently.

One more day of work.

In two days, I'll be at a wedding reception for two of my dear friends. We've known each other since we were in highschool. It's crazy -- and pretty exciting.

In two days I'll be flying to Massachusetts.

In a week I'll be 21.

In less than two weeks, my next-oldest-sister will be coming to college to start her freshman year.

In less than a month, I'll be in China.

There are other countdowns, like the people I wanted to say goodbye to, wanted to spend time with, before I head home and then across the world. Or, more accurately, the people I don't want to say goodbye to.

And there are the counting-up lists. It's been a good summer.

Days spend in sunshine and dinners with the Wrights and Joanna, full of laughter, weekends with the Kennedys, who kept bringing me home... all summer... the guys in the grounds garage and the tennis balls flying back and forth; lots of Madeleine L'Engle; trees to climb; a trip to DC; going to the park with Sukey and her blue eyes; an alarm clock faithfully waking me up every morning; music and audio books; a beautiful campus to work on; great girls to work with... I made a much longer list in my journal, but you get the idea.

God is good.

It's a Wonderful Life

...I think about examples, how you act and what you dare
'Cause you never know who's watching or how far the story goes...
[Heather Dale -- One of Us]

Maybe it's inevitable that I resonated with those words, me being a child who grew up watching It's a Wonderful Life every year around Christmas time, learning my whole life that what you do affects others in ways you can't know.

I still think it would be nice to know, sometimes.

What's striking me is that there are people who I know have changed my life unconsciously. What do you say to them? Hi, you don't know me, but I'm so glad that you did what you did?

They didn't do it for me, they just did it because... that's who they are. It's who God made them to be. But sometimes I think about my life and how it ties in with the lives of those around me, and I think,

The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me.
[Psalm 16:6]

The particular example that brought this to mind is an older brother of a friend of mine. He's probably three or four years older than I am, and I've met him a few times -- when he was visiting the college, when he was at church with his fiancee. And he has no particular reason to know me, but I thank God for him and for the example he set.

See, the year before I came to college, his sister and another friend of mine roomed together, their freshman year. He was a good older brother, and showed his sister (and her roommate) some of the ropes of what you should know for college, things that you might not be taught in classrooms.

That all trickled down to me through the challenge, which is a story in its own right, the story of how this man's sister's roommate (feel like this should end up at 31 Flavors somehow?) decided to continue the mentoring process.

So, like he doesn't know and very possibly will never know how he helped to change my life, I expect that a lot goes on for all of us that we don't know. I know about him mostly through spending a lot of time digging out stories and piecing fragments together. I don't know of a way to thank him; I'm not sure that it would even be fair to try. Maybe it is better to just thank God, the Giver of all good gifts.

And then pay it forward.

Purpose, Prosperity, and a Pilgrim Heart

This weekend I was given the amazing opportunity to go to a conference in DC, hosted by AEI, called "Purpose & Prosperity: Exploring the Confluence of Faith, Economics, and Public Policy". Sounds like some pretty heady stuff, doesn't it?

I felt rather like Odysseus.

I walked into the conference and was overwhelmed by the affluence of it. AEI is well-funded, and they didn't skimp in hosting us, a bunch of college students. I could get used to this all too easily, to living in a world that is polished and professional. I could get used to a job where you get to look at the intricate puzzle of public policies and research the issues that drive these things, because I love mental puzzles a lot.

But I felt a little bit like I was listening to the sirens' song.

This isn't the world I come from, this world of metro tickets and business casual and a room full of predominantly white college students. Where I come from, my siblings and I look nothing alike, a family built by adoption, and people wear clothes from the Goodwill and I am used to walking to work.

The fact that this isn't what I'm used to doesn't mean that it's wrong. It is very necessary to discuss policies for this sprawling country, the one that somehow includes the metropolitan DC and Western Pennsylvania, where I've grown up. There are more factors than I can comprehend, and enough pieces to give anyone a headache, and the ideas are huge. I am beyond delighted that AEI is seeking to educate students about these things that really matter and really do affect us, and I love that they are being intentional about examining how faith fits with these things, and creating space for Christian students to learn and dialogue.

I loved the mental stimulation of a think tank, but I recently learned that I also love the feel of a piece of wood dremeled and sanded smooth, watching metal shavings curl off of a drill, and being awake till 5 am, working with a team of engineers on their senior project.

I don't know how to put the pieces together.

I am a college student with a minimum wage job, pulling weeds all summer. I'll be graduating in less than a year without debt. I sponsor a little girl in Guatemala. She has leprosy.

I wonder what I am doing with the vast wealth that God has showered upon me, that I did not earn.

C.S. Lewis offered this guideline for giving: "I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare."

What does that look like in my life as an individual? What should it look like in the life of a nation? Is that a responsible way to live? Is it wise?

And can life be segmented, so that I can say, Well, I will be independent financially and willing to depend on grace in my spiritual life? For myself at least, I am far too human for that. I am driven to draw closer to God by uncertainty about plans for the future and by huge storms and by the death of friends and by being forced to realize that I can't be secure in any area of life apart from Him.

Lewis again, this time from an exchange between two characters in The Great Divorce:

--I only want my rights. I'm not asking for anybody's bleeding charity.

--Then do. At once. Ask for the Bleeding Charity. Everything is here for the asking and nothing can be bought.

Is he right? How does this fit with entrepreneurship and good economic practices in a world superpower country? Where does grace fit into this whole issue of free enterprise and capitalism and Christian morality?

Maybe Odysseus is not the wanderer I identify with so much. Maybe what is waging war in my heart right now is the same thing that drew Abraham out of the land where he lived to a place where he did not know, going to live in the land of promise, wholly entrusting himself to the faithful God who had called him. Maybe it is right to feel out of place here, not wholly comfortable.

Maybe these are questions I'll be asking for the rest of my life.

(drawing by Pastor Micah Ramsey, 2009)