"for a night filled with song" - a Christmas reflection

I'm a Grinch.  I dread the month or so where all I hear on the radio is Christmas music, I hate exchanging gifts, and I certainly don't decorate my apartment for the Christmas season.  I despise the commercialization and secularization of Christmas and try to avoid it whenever possible.

But last night I sat in back row of the church in which I grew up, half-singing, half-listening as my church family sang Christmas carols in hymn style.  There's just something about hymns that allows for reflection, something about entirely mic-less worship that everyone should experience at least once.

Christmas, this season of hope - God incarnate, God become man.  God come down to conquer this world through humility and self-sacrifice.  God who died and rose again, God who will return to set things right.

That was my prayer last night: "Lord, return soon.  Your Kingdom come (soon, Lord!), Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."  This is a crazy messed up world in which we live, and I know it's sometimes messed up in my little hometown church, too, but last night as our voices blended to rise to the heavens, it was easy to see the Kingdom that is already here, Jesus present in His bride.  I don't know the form that His return will take; I'd like to think He'll probably surprise us once more with His love, his grace, his humility.  But He's coming, and last night I could both believe it with joy and hope for it with a desperate longing.  The beauty of my church family worshiping without the bells and whistles of a praise band and the knowledge that the world's a dark, dark place combined to give me a taste of the "here" and "not yet" aspects of the Kingdom of God.

It was a night filled with song, a night filled with the simple beauty of human voices raised in praise to the God of the universe, the God here among us, the God returning soon to make all things right.

I won't soon forget it.

Maranatha.

for the days of no more safe distance

Safe distance
I always maintained
safe distance.
Strategic involvement
I always employed
strategic involvement.
Her choice
I always said it was
her choice.
Self interest
It's just
self interest.
God help me
I pray
God help me.
Self interest
to help is only
self interest.
not to help is
self interest.
it's all
self interest.

Selfless love
Show me the way to
selfless love.

for the fragmented nature of guilt, loss, fear, and loneliness

Love another, He said.  

I don't know when things changed; all I know is that they changed.  I stopped loving.

Selfish.  Self-seeking.  Self-centered.

It doesn't have to be this way.

I don't really know how to frame this story.  Failure?  Abandonment?  Natural change?

I don't have the emotional strength for my life right now.

It's breaking me down.  I'm not strong enough to face the undeniable abandonment.  I'm not strong enough to reach out to the broken people in my life.  I'm not strong enough to face the future without flipping out.  I'm not strong enough to begin again the uncertain work of making friends.

He loved me before I loved Him.

I am struck by God's relentless love.  Even as I weep at the loss of friends who have shoved me into the periphery of their lives, I shove God into the periphery of mine.  Everything takes precedence to Him.  I am consumed with what will make me happy, what will make things work best for me.  My schedule rules me.

Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.

God forgive me, that which I decry in others is present first of all in myself.

My Study of Revelation part 4 - Revelation 2:8-11

For information on sources, see this post.

Revelation 2:8-11 - Smyrna

Background on Smyrna:
Located on a bay of the Aegean Sea, Smyrna was one of the most important commercial cities in Asia Minor and remains so today. (Smith) Smyrna was located near a major road system, was very beautiful, and was a prime location for the Roman imperial cult with many temples located here. (Wright) A large church existed there fairly early on.  Polycarp was the bishop of Smyrna and is said to have known John the Apostle.  He was martyred in 167 AD. (Smith, wikipedia)

"Self-styled Jews":
Who exactly were these self-styled Jews?  The answer is up for debate, but likely Paul was referring to Jews who rejected Jesus as Messiah, as the early church thought of itself as Jewish through and through.  Jews had exemption from festivities associated with the imperial cult and were perhaps upset that Christians were also receiving this exemption.  This may have led to the persecution. (Wright)  It is also possible that the self-styled Jews were simply people claiming the heritage/religion of Judaism but had no faith/obedience to God.

Local illusions to Smyrna in the text:

• "dead and came to life" - Smyrna had been sacked in ~500 B.C. and since rebuilt. (Wright, Wikipedia)
• "crown of life" - potentially a reference to Smyrna - the acropolis of Smyrna was at the top of a hill and the architecture used the hill to appear somewhat like a crown. (Wright, Wikipedia)

Why were the Christians in Smyrna poor?

Poverty would have been an issue for Christians because employment was often found through trade guilds, which required participation in pagan activities.  Without participation, money was hard to come by. (Wright)

A final observation:

Nothing negative is said about this church - solely encouragement and praise.

for the days when I'm terrible at juggling

My life has assumed a frantic pace over the past months, and today it threatens to overwhelm me.  I feel as if I am fielding six million separate conversations relating to social engagements and scheduling.  It's like I'm playing one of those typing games from elementary school where you have to type words before they fall off the cliff.  I'm madly typing and making all sorts of typos as I attempt to keep the words from falling into oblivion.  How is it that I am supposed to manage all of these demands on my time and attention?  I've never been the social butterfly, except maybe in college when I lived with my friends.  I spent high school holed up in my bedroom reading Christian historical fiction and graduate school doing homework and wandering the breathtakingly beautiful hills of Bellingham, WA.  I know scheduling difficulties only as they relate to making sure I leave enough time between work and church commitments for homework.

Times have apparently changed.

There are so many people and things in my life that are important to me.  As I have accumulated things and people of importance I have been forced to regiment my life more and more strictly to allow for it all to happen.  Take Tuesday, for example.  Tuesday I work until 5:30, run home to change for teaching piano lessons at 6:00, teach piano lessons until 7:00, run to bible study which I am now always late for since it starts at 7:00.  After bible study I spend a few minutes with my boyfriend and then it's time for bed.  I wake up Wednesday and perform much the same routine again.  Work, visit the assisted living, dinner with friends, time with boyfriend, bed.  Then there are days like Sunday.  Sunday I work and theoretically have the evening free.  Theoretically.  Ha.  Today, for example, I work until 4:15, potentially have a phone date with a friend, potentially hang out with a friend in town depending on when the phone date happens, potentially go to her small group if it all lines up perfectly, then hang out with my boyfriend at 8:30ish, then potentially a skype date with another friend at 10.  Seriously?  This has become my life.  Hour by hour it is regimented to the point of breaking.

And in some ways I like it.  It's nice to not have time to think or breathe sometimes.  I feel productive when it all goes perfectly.  Juggling is fun when all the balls are in the air.  The people I spend time with are important to me and I want to have time for them all.  I value my time with my boyfriend incredibly highly and am not willing to sacrifice it.  But every once in a while it all becomes too much.

I want to breathe the air.  I want to read and write and think and sing.  I want life to be less about the rat race of making enough money to exist and more about these people in my life who are so important to me.  I started teaching piano lessons a few months ago and I love it, but even those few hours a week I have devoted to teaching means a few hours less to spend with the people I love.

There's nothing to be done, really.  I can't give any of it up.

And so I guess I'll try to get better at juggling.

For the Days of Loss

They are words spoken all too often: "He was so young..."  Just beginning, really, and then gone in a heart-breaking moment.  Hope shattered, darkness descends, God seems distant at best, cruel at worst.

Why, God?  Why him, why them, why us?  Where are you, God?  How is this loss possible?  For how long, God?  It is all so senseless, but what in this life isn't?  It is all so fragmented, the very fabric of the universe stretched taut to the point of shattering.

Broken.

Your Kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

On this indescribably dark day, God weeps.  He cries with us - the darkness is not ours to bear alone.  His heart breaks with ours.

God with us, Immanuel.  God with us, among us, for us.  God incarnate, God enthroned, the suffering servant who took our sorrows and sin upon himself.

In this hour of loss, what can we say of the sovereignty of God?
God with us, among us, weeping.
God holding us, loving us, our Comforter.
God for us, not against us, our Defender.

One day, Love will triumph once for all.  Death defeated, chains broken, love victorious.  But love is victorious when it suffers for humanity, when it sacrifices its own good, when it dies.  Thanks be to God, death is not the final word.  Love wins.  In our day of loss, in our time of inexpressible sorrow, we remember and cling to the God who died.

The God who carries our sorrows.

The God who weeps.

the longer I live

The longer I live, the less I know.  

I've heard that line before, I guess, although I never really understood it until entirely too recently.  If only I had learned what it means to hold my beliefs with an open hand, maybe life wouldn't have been so turbulent for so long.  Of course, I still want to know things, still think I know things, and life will always be turbulent.

The longer I live, the less I know.

I want to live my life open to the possibility that God will move.  I fully expect God's moving to be unexpected and uncomfortable, and I'm painfully aware that so often I quench the Spirit with my need for rationality and control.

The longer I live, the less I know.

I've been agonizing in the past year and a half over submission of wives to their husbands and gender roles in the church and what it means to be both a Christian and a feminist.  I feel so torn between my upbringing and my logic and my emotions and my admiration of so many who practice a more traditional form of submission in marriage.  And finally I have landed.  Where have I landed?  I haven't a clue.

The longer I live, the less I know.

Literal or figurative, universal truth/command or culturally bound, selfish or selfless in motivation: the questions accumulate.  And the questions no longer matter.  I want to follow Jesus, it's that simple.

This I know:

Following Jesus is taking the quiet path, the selfless path, the sacrificial path.

Loving Jesus is forgiving again and again and again for repeat offenses.  Loving Jesus is befriending the people in my life with whom I could not have less in common.  Loving Jesus is lending a listening ear.  Loving Jesus is going uncomfortably out of my way to show deference to people who do nothing to earn it.

Loving Jesus is not spotlight, control, or power.

Loving Jesus is submitting myself again and again to my neighbor.  Loving Jesus is deference to the other and death to myself.  Loving Jesus is strength on behalf of the weary and broken.  Defending the defenseless is what I should be about.

The questions don't matter so much now.  Nowadays I just love and trust my Jesus, and that's enough.

for the nights with no stars

Sometimes I miss the country.  I am a farm girl after all.  I talk to Jesus best when I'm outside gazing at the stars or the pounding waves or the rustling trees.  There are stars here and waves here and certainly plenty of trees here, but I also have the misfortune of living in a place where I don't feel safe walking by myself after dark.  Nights like tonight I want to move back to my college town where I never worried.  And to think I was threatened by the amount of people in that town, to think I missed the country then.

Tonight life became too much.  I was overcome by sadness and guilt and the overwhelming need to have God physically here with me.  I needed Jesus tonight.  

I walked to the tennis courts at my apartment complex.  A compromise between emotions and rationality, I guess.  It's pretty dark there, and I laid on the concrete and watched the stars.  I miss the stars.  They're incredibly beautiful and never changing and they remind me that no matter where I go in this world, the stars always stay the same.  I'm thankful for that.  I'm thankful for how they remind me that God is always with me and never changing, as well.

Tonight I poured out all of my thoughts to God.  Told Him how sad I was, how much tonight, at least, life just hurts.  Told Him I'd appreciate any and all wisdom He could give me.  And He was, as always, silent.

I don't know how to deal with God's silence sometimes.  Often it seems like the only sound is my thoughts ricocheting through my mind.  I fear I have made God into a God of my own design.  Need a loving God?  There he is.  Need a wise God?  Found him.  Need to know that those who wrong me will get it?  Vengeful God it is.

Tonight I stared at the stars and wished that God would speak to me.  He didn't.  I was only there for fifteen minutes, so it's not as if the experiment is very fair at all.  I didn't want it enough, maybe.  I dunno.

I do know that my heart was near to breaking tonight, and God didn't speak.  I do know that I would really have appreciated his wisdom in an audible, specific form.  He didn't oblige.  He doesn't really work that way very often, it seems.

I listened to my music, stared at the stars, half-prayed-half-thought-out-loud, and then I stood up.  I walked home.  My attention span isn't good for much beyond fifteen minutes, it seems.

But my head is clear now.  I saw the stars, and they reminded me that God doesn't change.  And God became man.  He lived among us.  Walked through life's challenges and then died a cruel death.  

And I guess that's going to have to be enough for now.  And enough for the cloudy nights, too.

Maranatha.  Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

My Study of Revelation Part 3

Today I will be going over Revelation 2:1-7.  To see what I've already covered, see Part One and Part Two.

Revelation 2:1-7 - The Letter to Ephesus

Historical Context
Before I talk about this specific passage, I find it important to establish as much historic background as possible on Ephesus.  A few things, then, about Ephesus:

1. This was the most important city in western Turkey, the capital of its region, and, according to Wright, had a population of around 250,000.  (Revelation for Everyone, N.T. Wright)  This number is hotly debated; many scholars now think it was much less than this.  Regardless, this was one of the largest cities in Asia Minor.
2. Ephesus contained the temple of Artemis, which was one of the wonders of the world.  Artemis was the Greek name for the Roman goddess Diana.  Within its extensive grounds, the temple of Artemis had a tree which served as a shrine and a system of asylum. (RfE, Wright)  The reference to the tree of life in the letter to Ephesus was no mistake.
3. Ephesus was completely abandoned by the 15th century. (RfE, Wright)
4. Today there are no active churches in the vicinity of Ephesus (the modern towns/villages that surround it). (RfE, Wright)

The Framework of the Letters to the Churches
Each of the letters to the seven churches follows roughly the same formula:

1. Greeting (2:1)
2. "I know..." (2:2)
3. Praise (2:3, 7a)
4. Rebuke (2:4)
5. Command (2:5a)
6. Warning (2:5b)
7. "The one who conquers..." (2:7b)

The Passage Itself
It seems to me that by the time John wrote the book of Revelation, Ephesus was a case study in missing the point of what it means to follow Christ.  They were immovable in their doctrine, calling out false prophets and undergoing much persecution.  But they had forgotten love.

Who, exactly, were the Nicolaitans?  No one seems to know for certain, although church tradition holds that it was a heretical sect that "taught that spiritual liberty gave them sufficient leeway to practice idolatry and immorality." (NIV Study Bible, Zondervan)  Doing this would allow them to avoid persecution by the state (Faithflife Study Bible).  The church in Ephesus stood strongly against this.  There was no question of their being opposed to the pagan religion of Rome, but they had forgotten that correct doctrine is nothing without love.  John had already written the letters of 1-3 John (tradition holds they were written about 10 years before, ironically from Ephesus) in which he emphasizes love.  

when my church isn't what i'm looking for and that's okay

You know, since leaving home to attend college, I have never found a church in which I fit.

I don't fit here.  I'm too feminist, too cynical, too liberal, too skeptical.  I don't (and won't) hand out tracts, I make fun of Christianity more than I sing its praises, I sometimes wish I could walk out of those doors and never come back.  Church is often more painful than it is salve.

Attending church in my college town was nothing like home.  I didn't fit there because I missed the way things had always been back home.  I attended that church for almost four years and never met a single person.  I walked in and out every week without connection.  And then I moved home again.

I couldn't find it in me to admit the extent of my disagreement when I lived in the Northwest, and the dishonesty I served up week after week was almost enough to tear me apart.  I loved those people, but I couldn't admit to them that I rarely agreed with them.  I led worship and played on the worship team and often felt like I was going against the very fabric of things I believed by doing so, as if I were adding my agreement simply by association.

I'm slowly learning to be honest about my disagreement.  To admit that life is messy, to admit that I don't always see things the same way, to be willing to talk and willing to listen but never willing to simply accept at face value something someone says.  And as I learn to talk about these issues, I'm learning that some things just don't matter.

Dear Church,

I don't really care that you think you and me and the rest of us are gonna be raptured.  We both love Jesus.

I don't really care that you think the world was created in seven twenty-four hour days.  We both love Jesus.

I don't really care that you hand out tracts or are a little too in-your-face for my liking.  That is your way of loving Jesus.

Yes, I care that sometimes you say and do hurtful things.  Sometimes you're uncaring or unthinking.  Sometimes you're racist or sexist.  But I say and do hurtful things at the same rate.  We both are doing our best to love Jesus and being miserable mess-ups at it.

Being a member of the body of Christ means that I won't always agree with you about how to do things, but I will always need you, and we should always be working toward the same goal.  The Kingdom is here among us, the Kingdom is soon to come.  I want to live that reality with you.  I want to love others in Jesus' name with you.  I want to wrestle with the hard questions - truly wrestle with them - with you.

Every week is a struggle.  I'm a cynic, I'm close-minded, I'm easily angered.  I shut down and I judge.  I feel alienated and alone.  These things, although the reality, are not right.  I want to learn to ask the questions without carrying the baggage.  May I learn to love you even if I don't love the things you say and do.  You are not perfect, but none of us are.  In our imperfections Jesus shines all the brighter.  I don't fit with you but then again, I don't fit anywhere.  None of us do.  We're strangers, all of us, trying our best to find our way through this messed up world toward God.

You're not what I'm looking for.  And that's okay.  What I'm looking for isn't what's good for me, anyway.

Your sister,
Marilee

In which life moves on and I [try to] move with it...

They wanted to play Sardines.

Anyone who knew me in high school or even in college knows that night games of any kind used to be one of my life's passions.  I particularly loved "Dark," a cops and robbers hide and seek game played - you guessed it - after dark.  So much of my childhood and early adulthood was spent with that game.  I even have Dark to thank for the huge scar on my ankle and my inability to properly flex my foot and toes.  

Tonight I attended a day-late Halloween costume party that some of us put together for our "young adult" ministry at my church.  We played Sardines.  Tragically, I was the girl that my five-year-ago self could not stand.  The one who refused to get "into it."  I played, yes.  But mostly I just wandered around and pretended to be trying.

I mean, part of my lack of excitement was probably the fact that I unexpectedly got called in to work overtime today and was thus sleep deprived and semi-stressed from a day at work and the knowledge that tomorrow I go back to start my "real" work week.  Part of it was the fact that I didn't know most of the people there.  But mostly?  I've just grown up.  My life has moved on and I found myself stuck in between worlds tonight.

~~~

Sometimes I think about what my life was like here only a year or so ago.  I was surrounded by people I considered family.  We were tight knit and spent at least three or four nights a week together.  Sometimes more.  Some of them were close friends, some were merely people with whom I loved spending time.  My life was far from perfect; I think of my first year in Saint Marys as one of the more emotionally turbulent of my life.  But I can say for certain that I was surrounded by amazing people.

That hasn't changed.  I have amazing friends here.

But tonight the absence of so many who once formed the core of my world here was hard to deal with.  Some are out to sea, others have moved away, still others have simply drifted away from what once was.  Tonight there were only a handful of us from the group of people I once thought indestructible.  I was reminded tonight that life always moves on, and that I must be willing to move with it.

And sometimes I can't move with it.  I'm getting old.  I realized that as I attempted to fit in with people younger than my youngest sister.  I realized that as I found myself just wanting to sit around the bonfire and talk about life and found no one else was interested in such a pursuit (so I sat there by myself and hummed songs into the smoldering fire).  I realized that as I stood lamely by as everyone else crammed into the closet in a rousing game of Sardines.

I've slowed down.  Adulthood has arrived.

I was the oldest there tonight by several years.  I felt so keenly the absence of those my age, those who have, maybe for the same reasons as I didn't fit tonight, drifted away.  I realized something else equally strongly, though.

No matter how difficult, no matter how much I don't handle large groups well, no matter how large the age gap, God has called me to be present here and now.  Here is beautiful, even as it is different.  Now is a new reality in which I am older than the rest.  Here is the opportunity to love these people, to make this new core the old guard.  This group of people, however much changed, is the reason my life is beautiful in this terrible town.  These people have been and still are Jesus to me in a world that can so quickly feel so very lonely.

I will fight for them, for us, for this community that is so fragile and so easily lost.

It's worth it.

My Study of Revelation Part 2

On to the second half of Revelation 1.  This is all pretty dry, so if you're looking for a typical angsty-Marilee blog post, feel free to not read this. Haha.  In any case, if you'd like to see what sources I'm using or more background on why I'm doing this study, see this link.  This all feels very "amateur hour" to me.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  If you have any insights into this passage, let me know in the comment section!

Revelation 1:9-20

Just as the first eight verses were saturated with Jesus, so too is the second half of the chapter.  Just giving this passage a cursory glance reveals Jesus as powerful and beautiful - as worthy of our awe and worship.  Although he appears in human form, he is very clearly worthy of our worship.  This passage is also interesting because of the many references to the Old Testament (mostly Daniel, but also a few other things here and there).  Where God is described in one way in the Old Testament, Jesus is in the New Testament.  Jesus is proclaimed over and over to be the Messiah, to be the Risen King, and to be God.  Furthermore, as N.T. Wright points out, this Jesus is not cuddly or represented as your "personal savior."  He's pretty scary here.  Smith points out that Jesus appears in human form to John and yet is obviously God.

Principle of suffering for Christians (vs. 9)
What of the Rapture?  I come into this study highly skeptical of the Rapture.  To me (and this is a very humble, uneducated opinion) it seems escapist and not consistent with the general theme of suffering found in Scripture.  I am of course open to changing my mind.  The principle of suffering comes up, though, in verse 9: "I, John, your brother and companion in the suffering and kingdom and patient endurance that are ours in Jesus, was on the island of Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus."  Other verses on suffering: John 16:33 - “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” 2 Timothy 2:12 - "if we endure,  we will also reign with him. If we disown him, he will also disown us."  Revelation 3:10 does throw somewhat of a wrench in my "don't like the Rapture" opinion: "Since you have kept my command to endure patiently, I will also keep you from the hour of trial that is going to come on the whole world to test the inhabitants of the earth."  Of course, this verse is talking specifically to this one church.  Obviously, in retrospect, they did not live through the tribulation.  I will keep this in mind, though, and study it more thoroughly when I make it to chapter 3.  In terms of the tribulation, the kingdom of God, and suffering, I really like Colossians 1:13: "For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves."  This verse seems to set up the principle of the kingdom of God being both here and also not yet, something that is also prevalent throughout the Gospels.

Apocalyptic literature
I did a little research into apocalyptic literature in general this week.  It turns out that many biblical scholars believe the second half of the book of Daniel to have been written in sometime around mid-second century BC.  The second half of Revelation 1 bears many similarities to prophecies found in Daniel, which would make sense since John was writing in a style very prevalent in the centuries previous to the life of Christ.  Much apocalyptic literature was written from 200 BC to 200 AD, and most of it never made it into the Bible.  Apocalyptic literature in general serves to reveal the coming judgment of God upon the world.

Side note on the above discussion: One of the things that I have really come to appreciate in recent years is coming to the Bible with an open, teachable mind.  Part of that, for me, includes accepting that the writers of the Bible didn't think about objectivity and history and truth in the same ways that we modern Western Christians do today.  And so although I was always taught to believe that Daniel wrote the entire book of Daniel in the 6th century BC, I love that there's the possibility that we're wrong, if only because other theories about dates and authorship may shed new light on the entire genre.  One of the things I refuse to be is threatened by science or historical study.  Whether it's the Creation account in Genesis or the authorship of the Pauline epistles or the date of apocalyptic literature, I don't much care about the "who" or "when" as much as I do about the "why" and "what does this tell me about God?"  I believe the Bible to be inspired.  I always will.  As far as the specifics of how that works out, well, that's up for discussion as far as I'm concerned.

"In the Spirit"
In verse 10, John  uses the phrase "In the Spirit" to refer to the context for the vision he then saw.  This is how each of his main visions throughout the book are preceded.  Usually in the New Testament (Acts specifically), this phrase refers to a trance.  See Acts 10:10, 11:5, 22:17.

Symbolism in John's Description of Jesus (vss. 12-16)
In verses 12-16 John gives a pretty detailed description of the vision he sees.

• "seven golden lampstands" - refer to the seven churches that he later specifically addresses.  In Exodus 25:37, the tabernacle is to have one lampstand with seven lamps giving light in front of it (think menorah).  To me, this seems to be a step up from that.  If the number seven is the number of perfection, this is perfecting perfection.
• "like a son of man" - son of man simply means human.
• "feet of bronze" - Immediately I thought of the statue in Daniel 2 - in that statue the feet were clay.  These are bronze.  Also, the vision in Daniel 10 talks about feet of bronze (vs. 6).
• "sound of rushing waters" - Ezekiel 43:2
• Revelation 1:14 is from Daniel 7:9.
• Much of this symbolism is taken straight out of the Old Testament and often right out of Daniel.  It's fascinating how messianic prophecies from the OT become evidence for Jesus as messiah.  

Next up: Revelation 2:1-7.

The Holiest of Coffees

My world is fragile.

Tonight I sat under a bright orange Dunkin Donuts umbrella watching a night sky that threatened rain with every pulse of lightning and gust of wind, my "All Sons and Daughters" Pandora station playing loudly in my ear, trying desperately not to cry.  I have these moments fairly commonly; I'm rarely strong.

Maybe it began a few minutes earlier in the parking lot of my church where I was informed that church was cancelled for a youth event; I could go there if I wanted instead.  I smiled and nodded, feigning interest, trying not to betray the fact that I'm not strong enough to do unexpected things on the fly, that when things don't go as I planned them in my head I automatically shut down emotionally.  I'm sure the youth event was inspired, I'm sure it was amazing.  But I'm just as sure I might have collapsed entirely.

Jesus came with me to Dunkin.  The Spirit sang over me as I sipped coffee and breathed in second hand smoke.

My world is fragile.  

My world is different than it was a few short months ago.  I love this man, and it means that the things I've always struggled with are present now in crazy proportions.  I've always depended on people, now I depend on one person more than I ever have.  It's both wonderful and terrible.  I have to learn that sometimes he's there and sometimes he's not, and that somehow, I have to be okay without him.

I want to hide behind words, behind poetry.  I don't want to be real, to admit that sometimes relationships hurt.  Even if they hurt because of how wonderful they are.

I don't have to be strong, I just have to lean on Jesus.

My world is fragile.

Every week going to church is a struggle for me.  I would like to think it's not because I'm a wayward sinner, although I know it's because I'm a sinner.  Every week it's hard for me to lay aside my pride and remain teachable.  It's a struggle for me to remember that I don't have all the answers.  It's almost impossible to set aside anger, to love people whose views are so far removed from mine.

I want to say that it's worth it.

Sometimes it is.

But sometimes I just almost lose my sanity and sometimes I get so angry and sometimes it just hurts. 

But then Jesus shows up.  I see him in my brothers and sisters whose views are so antithetical to my own.

My world is fragile.

I don't love my coworkers like I should.  I don't stay out of the drama like I should.  I don't work as hard as I should.  I don't reflect Jesus like I should.  I'm too busy with work; I'm not involved enough at work.  I remain emotionally aloof when God calls me to be present.

My world is fragile.

Every day it threatens to fall apart.

And yet...He is strong.

It is enough.

My Study of Revelation part 1

Today I took a mini road trip (okay, so it was a half hour drive) to Florida and sat in a Starbucks and figured out where I want to go next with my personal Bible study.  It's been too long since I've done anything in depth on my own.  And so I quite randomly decided to go with the book of Revelation.

I'm a bit angsty when it comes to Revelation, and have been for many years.  I don't believe in the Rapture but find myself surrounded by Christians who do, so that can tend to be a sore spot for me.  Being a history major, another sore spot for me with Revelation is when people entirely ignore the historical context of this book and it's potentially immediate applications to AD 70 and the fall of Jerusalem.  Of course, both of these sore spots are things I haven't really investigated for myself...I've just heard things and immediately decided without any real thought that they sound better than the Rapture or better than no historical context to the book.  Fail me.  So I come to my study of Revelation with a couple...shall we say biases...  I wish I didn't.

And so this study will be my best attempt at an open mind.  I want to know what the book actually teaches for myself.  I downloaded a couple commentaries onto my kindle today, and I'm going to be consulting study bibles as well as probably the internet here and there.  I hope to record my findings here, if only as accountability of sorts to actually follow through with the entire book.  So if you decide to follow along with me, this is going to be a bit of a cliff hanger every week because I, too, won't know what's coming next.  Bear with me.

Commentaries/books I will be using heavily:

Faithlife Study Bible
Revelation for Everyone by N.T. Wright
"The Revelation Explained An Exposition, Text by Text, of the Apocalypse of St. John" by F. G. Smith (really random, I know, but it was free on Kindle, so I went for it)
Life Application Study Bible (NIV)
Scofield Study Bible (NASB)
Zondervan's NIV Study Bible

Without further ado, for this post, Revelation 1:1-8.

To set the stage, a few things in the way of background occur to me.  John is imprisoned on the island of Patmos as he writes this book.  Christianity in general is facing persecution and uncertainty as they try to figure out what God's plan is for this new Jesus movement, as well as wondering when Jesus will return.  Into this uncertainty John writes the book of Revelation.  The book of Revelation could more accurately be called "Apocalypse," although perhaps not in the way that we think of apocalypse today.  It turns out that apocalypse in its pure form means "sudden unveiling of previously hidden truth."  The book of Revelation, according to N.T. Wright, is based on the ancient Jewish belief that God's sphere of being and operation and our sphere are not separated by a gulf.  Rather, with the Temple and later with Jesus, heaven and earth meet and overlap.  In looking at Jesus, we are able to see God.  This belief is certainly reflected in the first eight verses of the book; the focus of this passage is on making clear the character, attributes, and actions of the Trinity - although perhaps in most detail, Jesus.

According to N.T. Wright, the first eight verses of Revelation tell us five important things about what sort of book this is:

1. a four stage revelation.  It is revealed from God to Jesus through an angel to John who reveals it to the churches.
2. a letter.  It both contains letters to seven specific churches and is intended as a general letter to the Church as a whole.
3. a prophesy (vs 3) -  John draws on the Old Testament prophetic tradition and also changes things up a bit.
4. a witness (vs. 2) - the words "witness" and "testimony" are very similar in use and meaning.  There is both a sense that God is conducting a heavenly lawcourt where witness borne by Jesus and his followers is key as well as a sense that those who bear this "testimony" may be called to suffer and/or die. 
5. Everything to come flows from Jesus and ultimately God the Father. (vs. 4, 8)

Random other findings to follow:

In his commentary, Smith points out the use of the number seven in vss. 4-8.  First of all, why seven churches specifically?  7 denotes fullness or completeness.  These seven churches are thus representative of the entire church, even as they are actual historic churches.  Second, what do the "seven spirits" refer to?  This is a reference to the Holy Spirit - the number seven refers to the fullness/excellence of the Holy Spirit.  Spirits rather than angels are used because angels are created beings.

There is a pretty amazing description of Jesus in verses 5-7.  I did a bit of my own research into each of the things Jesus is described as being in this passage.  

1. Jesus is a faithful witness - a witness to God's faithfulness and goodness.  Other places where "faithful witness" shows up in the Bible:  Ps 89:37 "it [David's throne] will be established forever like the moon, the faithful witness in the sky."  Jeremiah 42:5 "Then they said to Jeremiah, 'May the Lord be a true and faithful witness against us if we do not act in accordance with everything the Lord your God sends you to tell us.'"
2. Jesus is the firstborn of the dead. - It is important to keep in mind that firstborn does not necessarily always denote the literal firstborn.  (Jacob/Esau, for example)  It denotes, rather, preeminent status.  So don't be too concerned with the fact that Jesus was not the first person to rise from the dead.  He was, however, the first to rise with an imperishable body.  Other places this concept shows up: Colossians 1:18 - "And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy."  Ps 89:27 - "And i will appoint him to be my firstborn, the most exalted of the kings of the earth." Acts 26:23 - "that the Messiah would suffer and, as the first to rise from the dead, would bring the message of light to his own people and to the Gentiles." 1 Cor 15:20 - "But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep."
3. Jesus is the ruler of Kings on earth.  Other places this concept shows up: Ps 89:27 - "And I will appoint him to be my firstborn, the most exalted of the kings of the earth." Dan 2:47 - "The king said to Daniel, 'Surely your God is the God of gods and the Lord of kings and a revealer of mysteries, for you were able to reveal this mystery.'"
4. Jesus is Him who loves us.  Other places this concept shows up (among many): John 13:34 - "A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so must you love one another."  John 15:9 - "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love."
5. Jesus is Him who has freed us from our sins by his blood.  More than anything, this seems to refer to the fact that there is no more need for Old Testament sacrifices.  This concept shows up in 1 Peter 1:18-19 - "For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect."   
6. Jesus has made us a kingdom.  1 Peter 2:9 - "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light."  Revelation 5:10 - "You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to serve our God, and they will reign on the earth."
7. Jesus has made us priests to his God and Father. 1 Peter 2:9 "But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light."
8. Jesus is coming with the clouds and every eye will see him...  This is perhaps the most interesting one to me, if simply because I learned a new way of looking at this phrase recently.  According to N.T. Wright, it is quite possible that the cloud imagery used in this passage as well as Matthew 24: 30 and Daniel 7:13 refers to an upward movement (Daniel 7:13 makes it very obvious - "In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven.  He approached the Ancient of Days and was led into his presence") rather than a downward movement.  In other words, it is from the perspective of heaven that we should understand it.  Jesus comes from earth to heaven, and every eye will see him.  This would then refer to his ascension and vindication.  1 Thessalonians 4:17, as I understand it, still refers to his second coming.    This phrase refers heavily to Zechariah 12:10 - "And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and supplication.  They will look on me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn for him as one mourns for an only child, and grieve bitterly for him as one grieves for a firstborn son."

God is described in verse 8 as the Alpha and the Omega.  Alpha and Omega are the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet and the phrase thus refers to God as the beginning and the end and everything in between.  The phrase "who is and was and is to come" is a reference to Yahweh (I Am).  

Overall, what struck me about this passage is the focus on who God is.  It is clear that John wants the focus of the book to be on making God known.  There is a ton of theology packed into a tiny little section.

I would love if anyone wants to take this journey with me.  If you have other perspectives or insights on this passage, let me know in the comment section!  

My Incomplete and Humble Guide to Not Being a Racist

EDIT: I do continue to invite comments on this subject.  But, as it can be a very emotionally volatile issue, I do have to ask that everyone keeps this civil.  Personal attacks are not allowed.  I want this to be a safe place for people to discuss issues without being attacked.  In the future, I will be enforcing this on all of my blogs.  Comments that make negative statements about another person's character will be deleted.  Thank you.

In the weeks before moving to the heart of the American South, I remember wondering what it would be like to move to the South - if the South is really as racist as she is rumored to be.  I remember moving here and thinking in those initial weeks that maybe, just maybe, things weren't as bad as I had anticipated.  I don't know exactly whether my expectations were in reality on target, but what I do know is that I have encountered my fair share of racism in my year and a half living in Georgia.  It's not that I haven't seen racism before, it's that it's so much more consistent, abrasive, and prevalent here.

Here's the thing about racism.  I fully believe that almost no one is exempt.  Even the most with-it, progressive person holds onto stereotypes or preconceptions based on physical appearance.  We're human and it's tragically unavoidable.  I find myself confronting things I wrongly believe about people all the time.  I am not immune from what follows.  In addition, I am not an expert on racism.  I am part of a privileged group in America, and my experience and perceptions are mine alone.  I do not claim to have all of the answers or all of the right opinions on racism.  I haven't had to deal personally with the worst effects of it.

But I'm sick of supposedly well-meaning friends and acquaintances making racist remarks and getting away with it.  I'm sick of social situations in which everyone politely laughs when a racist comment is made.  I'm sick of it all.  So here is my incomplete and humble guide to not being a racist:

~~~

1) It is never okay to assume that a black person does or doesn't like things just because he or she is black.  It's probably dangerous territory to make statements that group all Asians or all blacks into a category based on their skin color.  Tread carefully.  You might be a white person who makes "white people" jokes, but it's different for you because you are privileged by your skin color while for others their skin color holds them back.  Yes, cultural differences are real.  Yes, we are not all the same.  Yes, sometimes skin color plays into that.  But the problem is that for some people, these "differences" are perceived by the dominant culture as negative.  As you live your life and as you say things, please keep this in mind.  It's so important.   "Asian" or "African American" or "Hispanic" are very broad terms.  Hispanics, for example, don't all think the same way or experience life the same way or even think about racism in the same way.  Culture is not bound by skin color.  It can be hurtful for you to assume, even if you're just joking, that it does.

2) If you find yourself prefacing a statement with "I know you're black [or Asian or Hispanic or whatever], so don't be offended at what I'm about to say..." you probably shouldn't make that statement.  In fact, PLEASE DON'T.

3) Never assume that racism is something we dealt with in the past.  Yes, slavery is over.  No, we are not altogether done with dealing with its aftermath.  The Civil Rights movement was much needed, but it wasn't all-encompassing, and it didn't erase racism.  Institutional and structural racism exists today - people are held back from achieving things simply because they are not white.  

4) If you think you're not a racist, or especially if you find yourself saying "I'm not a racist," you are very likely wrong.  Pretty much everyone struggles with racism in some form - the important part is recognizing it, becoming educated on it, and working toward a better future.

~~~

I invite discussion on any of the above.  I am certainly not immune to incorrect assumptions and opinions and want to grow in this area.  So let me know if you have a differing perspective.

these days

These days I don't do much evangelizing.
I don't quote much Scripture.
I don't invite many friends to church.
I don't like to bash the Muslims or the Mormons or the Pentecostals or the Catholics.
These days I'm pretty much an epic failure of a Christian.

These days I spend a lot of time staring at the lines in the tablecloth.
I listen to knowing and unknowing racism with shame.
I tap my foot uncomfortably, nervously, as lies and misinformation are propagated as absolute truth.
I find I don't fit much at all in this tapestry of faith and politics and culture called evangelical Christianity.
These days I would rather stay at home and thus preserve my sanity.

These days I'm confused.
I don't understand too much.
I don't have any of the Bible verses, just my conscience.
I don't like to speak.
These days I'm afraid to let them know just how much I doubt.

These days I find myself wanting only to love.
I want food for the hungry.
I want peace for the restless and broken.
I want God for the godless and the godly.
These days I don't want to fight.

These days I find myself loving Jesus.
I am hungry for Him, for His Word.
I read the Scriptures, looking to see God revealed.
I feel His presence in my life, refining my broken and sinful heart.
These days I'm stumbling after a broken figure bent under the weight of a brutal cross.

These days I'm alone.
I'm cynical.
I'm a doubter.
I believe in heresies.
These days I cringe to be considered a Christian.

on love and falling and such

This, the time when the federal government shuts down and I find myself temporarily unemployed, is a season of rest and recuperation, a season of a slower pace, a season to reflect.  Today I found myself at the waterfront with my Bible and my journal and The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer and some music playing in my iPod.  I couldn't help but breathe deeply of the beautiful fall air, reminded that even in this season of uncertainty, God is all around.  He's holding me, and He's got this all under control.

I reflected, too, on the last few months.  Crazy months they have been, as I have learned to love another.  I've been largely silent on this, and it's been a season of so much uncertainty as I learn to trust God and love another.  And it's been a season of joy, too, so much joy.  Because, you see, there's this boy.  And he's kinda stolen my heart.

It has been a season of journal entries kept hidden for such a time as this:

***

July 4, 2013
It is fitting that I am alone on this, the fourth night of July, 2013.  So much of my life has been lived alone.  I remember so clearly that night freshman year of college when life came crashing in and I wrote of the fundamental loneliness of life.  That has been proved true countless times in the years that have passed since then.  I have no doubt that life will continue in this vein.  We try so hard to mask the loneliness, we seek so many things to distract us from our individuality and the enforced independence that results.  
There is, in the final analysis, no escape.  I am coming to believe that part of life's challenge is to come to terms with this loneliness.  There will never be a cure, never be a moment when we overcome the individual nature of life.
It is this reality that drives us to love.  To live our lives for another, for the individuals that surround us.  To struggle for community even when to achieve unadulterated community is impossible.

July 16, 2013
The music swirls softly about me as I ponder the words on my heart, the words that aren't quite making it through the pen onto this paper.  These words yet unspoken captivate my heart, pushing at its borders, wanting release.  Will they have their way?
Emotion overwhelms my heart, and there is no release for it.  There are no words.
~~~
The night was beautiful.  A slight breeze chased away the Georgian summer's unrelenting humidity and bugs, and wisps of clouds flitted across the sky, obscuring and revealing the stars in turn.  This was my wilderness place not so many months ago.  I sat here alone with God, watching a magnificent sunset, feeling the presence of God and receiving the peace my heart so desperately needed.
And now I was back in this place so full of God, the fabric of the universe stretched taut, bursting at the seams with the unrelenting love of a God who will yet restore His broken creation.  I had never truly walked this life alone, but tonight another sat at my side.  My heart filled with an indescribable emotion.  This was happiness, walking no longer alone.
~~~
The words won't quite come yet.  It is yet too early.  Premature words are no words at all.  And so the season of silence stretches on, taking me with it.

***

They talk about love like it's falling.  I always thought that it was more like jumping.  Surrendering control, letting myself put my confidence in another.  It turns out that love is cyclical, multifaceted, impossible to pin down.  Love begins as a wavering candle, grows in certainty until it overtakes me.  Love is a sacrifice of oneself and an indescribable gift from God.

***

In the end, this is my prayer:

1 Corinthians 13:4-7
Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

So much is written about love, so much of our culture is obsessed with it.  May my love always look to Jesus as an example.  May I be intentional in my love.  May my love never end.

the letter i'd write to my twenty-year-old self

Dear Twenty-year-old Self,

The ache you feel right now, that ache of not belonging in the church?  That ache won’t ever go away.  You’re going to get through this period of intense doubt.  One day you’ll be able to believe in God again with most of your heart.  But the believing will never be the same.  I know how much you wish right now to return to your childhood faith.  You will always wish that, but it won’t ever happen.  And that’s okay.  The faith you will stumble into and the faith you will stumble through will be different, yes, but it’ll also be good in ways that will make you stronger.

Don’t be afraid, my twenty-year-old self.  God seems so distant now, but this distance will only make you more empathetic, wiser, and better able to deal with the reality of a life in which many times God is – for all intents and purposes, at least – distant.  It’s life, self.  God seems distant, if only because we refuse to acknowledge him, because we put up barriers between heaven and earth.  But, really, if you will only pause long enough to listen, He is never very far off.

I want you to know that you will slowly become that which you now fear and despise.  You’ll become more liberal, more uncertain about all of those nuts and bolts of faith, and you’ll lose your desire for easy answers.  You’ll stop straining so hard for the answers at all; instead, you’ll learn to love questions.  It’ll be scary and uncomfortable.  It’ll put you at odds with nearly everyone sitting next to you in church and nearly everyone on your Facebook friends list, but it’ll bring you into a wide place of hope and peace.

There’s peace, self, in refusing easy answers.  There’s hope in not knowing.  There’s joy in admitting without reservation that your view of God is hopelessly skewed and so is your pastor’s.  There’s freedom in knowing that the God you worship is the same God that your pastor worships, even if the two of you don’t agree on predestination or baptism or evangelism. 

Go forward, twenty-year-old self.  Don’t let the questions stop you from loving.  Don’t allow yourself to become embittered or angry or lonely.  Christians are not your enemy, even if they believe and do crazy things.  They are your family, no matter what.  Love them as such.  Make the things that you say and the things that you think and the links that make it onto your Facebook profile things that will lift up rather than tear down.  Build a new society with the people that surround you rather than focusing all your energy on tearing down the existing one.

Above all, my dear twenty-year-old self, love with abandon.  Love God, love others, and love yourself.

The rest will take care of itself.

Love,

Marilee

Your Kingdom Come, Your Will be Done

Last night a Facebook friend posted a link to a current event on his timeline.  The story instantly made me depressed, and I said so.  800,000 bikers gathering in Washington D.C. to let Muslim Americans know just how much they're hated?  I was heart broken that this is what we do.  This is, for so many, what it means to be "American," and even more sadly, "Christian."  If I'm not careful, politics (read "extreme American conservativism") can send me over the edge, to a place where I don't want to go.  A place where I am critical and hateful, where I become depressed and self righteous.  

I realized tonight that in lashing out at people who hate, I am no better than them.  In succumbing to anger, I condemn people as militant Americans because they identify as Republican.  God, forgive me for this.

I have a dream, though.  I dream of a world - a Kingdom, really - where people wake up and begin to think logically.  A Kingdom where fear no longer drives us, where we are motivated by nothing other than love.  I dream of a day when Christ comes and sets up His Kingdom here on earth, and hatred ceases.  

I mourn for American Christianity, politicized to the point where Jesus' call to radical love has vanished from our hearts.  I mourn for my relatives and my church friends who refuse to see that the call of Christ is far beyond any political affiliation.  I mourn for those for whom Christianity and being American are synonymous.  I mourn for those who rally around the flag of hatred, who fear those who are no enemy at all, who persecute the defenseless, who cast blame and throw stones.  

I mourn for all of us, though.  I mourn for the "liberal" Christians (which, if we're speaking about a dichotomous world, I am) who fall into the same trap of fear and hatred, of name-calling.  

Tonight I made an attempt in that Facebook thread to reach out to one young man who believes all Muslims to be the enemy.  I was not successful.  My biggest regret is not my failure to reach him (although that does depress me more than I'd like to admit).  My biggest regret is that my first reaction was anger toward him.

Never anger.  

Always love.

Christ is coming back.  To that hope I cling.  A better world is on the way.  One where Christ's kingdom is established and sure, where hatred and wars cease.  Where there is neither slave nor free, Jew nor Greek, male nor female, where all are one in Christ Jesus. (Gal 3:28)

Maranatha.  Come, Lord Jesus.

My Confession

My heart is fickle; how well I know this.
I want different things, irreconcilably opposed to one another.
I betray my conscience with nearly every breath and with most of my actions.
Day after day I choose the status quo over honesty and truth.
I cast blame rather than acknowledging my guilt.
I see simplistically rather than in full complexity, preferring the simple narrative to the truth.
I am apathetic, embittered, hard-hearted, unforgiving, lazy.
I serve myself first before looking to the needs of others.
I am the center of my world.

God, forgive me.

what was and what is

I didn't drink until I was almost twenty-four years old.  For me it was a religious thing.

And then things changed, and I began drinking.  I had somewhat of a life epiphany, and realized just how much I had been judging something that I didn't really understand.  Alcohol, in and of itself, was not bad.  It was a cultural thing, a social thing, and I liked it.

I drank for about a year and a half.  Not a whole lot, just a drink here and there, sometimes several a week sometimes several a month; it all depended.

And then, about three months ago, I stopped drinking.  At first it was mostly just a "I'm-not-going-to-buy-alcohol-anymore" thing.  And then I realized I was done.  No more drinking for me.  I am not going to go so far as to say I'll never drink again, because I don't operate on those terms.  But at this point, it serves no positive purpose.  Among my friends here, it serves only as a stumbling block.  In Bellingham it was different, but culture is a funny thing and I must be willing to change with the culture.  When I drink here I promote alcohol as a solution to life's problems.  I promote, perhaps without meaning to, alcohol as the primary means of entertainment in a slow town with nothing else to do.  I promote drunkenness without having more than one or two drinks myself.

Do I regret the year and a half or so that I drank?  Not at all.

I refuse to see life in black and white terms.

~~~

As you're probably all-too-well aware, I attended graduate school a few years ago and obtained a master's degree in history, which came right on the heels of three and a half years of undergraduate work in the same subject area.  At this point I have little desire to return to the world of academia, at least not to obtain any more degrees.  I'm ready to earn my keep in this world.

And I'm changing, too.  Being out of the gates of the university means that I'm surrounded by different types of people than I was as a student.  My influences are more Christian (both religiously and culturally speaking) in nature due to my geographical location.  I'm becoming less concerned with things that plagued me a year ago.

Above all, God is moving in my heart.  He's changing me and making me more like Him.  He's taking my heart of stone and making it a heart of flesh.  He is the one transforming me, He is the one guiding me.

But today someone said something to me that cut much more deeply than they probably know or intended.  The specifics of what was said is not important, but she implied that my time in graduate school taught me to think in the wrong sorts of ways and that with time I'll relearn how to be a good Christian.

I refuse to see life in black and white terms.

God gave me my mind, and He gave it to me to use it.  When I have a gut level instinct about gender roles in the Church, the struggle is mental and spiritual and emotional all at the same time.  I cannot divorce my mind from my will, my soul from my heart, my thoughts from my emotions.  It's all interconnected.  God did not leave me during my time in graduate school, and He was no less with me then than he is now.  I may be more aware of Him now, but I treasure the things God taught me about life and Him during my time there.

I want to be transformed more every day into the likeness of God's Son, and I'm trying to not be afraid of the questions.  I'm trying to learn to ask them with gentleness and humility, with meekness and with boldness, knowing that the questions I ask are not the most important thing, but neither are they unimportant.

I'm wrong about most things, I know.

But that will not stop me from asking the questions.

The Baptism

The fog surrounds me like a heavy blanket.  I can’t see my feet below me, much less the steps ahead.  I stumble through the grey darkness with tears snaking down my face and a mumbled prayer escaping my lips: “God have mercy.”

And all the while the water steadily rises.

I can hear her crying, the sound of her weeping permeating to my very core, but I can’t find her through the fog.  I call out to her but she won’t trust what she cannot see.  I rush wildly about, hoping that I’ll stumble into her by chance and manage to pull her to safety.

But the more I rush, the more exhausted I become, and the more she too becomes frightened.  And she panics.

I hear desperate splashing.  Cries of fear.  The river.

And then only silence.

Desperate silence.

And then a blinding light breaks through the fog, forcing me to my knees in the rising waters.  Help is here.  As my rescuers pull me to my feet, I see others diving into the river after the one I had lost.  They emerge with her, saving her where I could not.

And I weep.  Weep for my striving, weep for my loss, weep for the salvation that arrived when it mattered most.  Weep for the fog and for the water, for the pain of this baptism.  Weep for joy.

We were lost, and then we were found.

a mustard seed

This morning I woke up from a fitful five or six hours' sleep a full hour before my alarm in full blown panic mode, desperately wishing I was sick so I could just stay home and frantically practice piano all day.

A few weeks ago, I stupidly agreed to accompany a community musical here in town.  I didn't get half of the music until several days ago, and I've been frantically trying to learn it ever since, at least in the spare moments that I can find between my already overloaded schedule.  By last night, it was clear that I wouldn't be making the deadline, and I gave up and tried to enjoy a game night I held at my apartment.

And then everything else came crashing in, too, and after a brief conversation with a couple friends at the end of the night, I realized just how much of a failure I am at all things Christian-like.  Although I was worried about the musical, I was more tortured by questions of what it means to love those around me, and what it means to point them to Christ in the things I do.  

It may not seem like a big deal, but this question as well as some good ol' fashioned worry kept me from sleeping peacefully and all but destroyed my day today.  I was shaken and anxious and stressed and defeated.

And then on the way home from the island, a friend called and asked me to join him and another friend at Chick-fil-a for dinner.  I was going to not go, because I planned to go home and practice piano all night.  But then I threw my hands in the air and decided that an hour or two of practice standing up by my un-weighted keyboard in my living room may not be that useful anyway.  So I went.

What you have to understand about this particular dinner is that I don't always...jive...with the guys I was going to be eating with.  We're all very different people and it makes us clash like crazy.  Sometimes I find myself disagreeing simply because it's one of them making the statement, not because of any inherent flaw in the statement.  

And yet, as we discussed things of God and the future of our small groups and what it means to follow Jesus and serve Him and love the people He's place in our lives, I was blown away by the God who binds together the three of us in perfect unity despite our imperfections and personality incompatibilities.  God used tonight to speak into my heart the simple truth that He can speak through the simplest of conversations, that He can bring together people with nothing else in common but Him, and that in Christ we are one.  I'm thankful for that, so very thankful.  I'm thankful that God places people in my life who do not see life from my perspective, because it stretches me and forces me to consider things more carefully.  And often the perspectives of others show me just how wrong I am.

We're often so weak.  Our perspective is hopelessly limited, we are blinded by our pride and by our ambition.  We want to be important and have our accomplishments recognized.  Tonight God reminded me that where we are weak, where we are flawed, God is there made strong.

I went to church.  For the first time all day I was weightless.  I put my burdens in the hands of Jesus, trusting that the One who led me to that crazily improbable appointment at Chick-fil-A can move mountains in the lives of my hurting friends, and that this same God cares about my participation in this silly musical that I never should have signed up for.  

Tonight I had faith the size of a mustard seed and I called on God to make Himself known among us.  He promised that our faith, if only the size of a mustard seed, would move mountains.  Mountains of rebellion, mountains of unbelief, mountains of cynicism, mountains of broken hearts, mountains of disunity, even mountains of crazy-hard music.  He'll move it all, if only we will look to Him.

I'm gonna hold Him to that.

worst of sinners

We are so quick to judge those around us, so quick to anger, so quick to avenge and revenge.  We don't hesitate to allow righteous indignation to fill and consume us, don't hesitate to condemn our [former] friends, don't hesitate to allow bitterness to overcome love.  And tonight as I pondered the failings of those around me, the hearts broken, the lives in pieces, the loneliness and the uncertainty of unrequited love, tonight as I allowed my heart to fill with a mixture of a little sorrow and more than a little anger, the truth of the situation came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks.  All of these things I see and despise in other people?  All of the things that make me swear to defend the honor of my wounded brothers and sisters?  I either am or possess the very real possibility to do and be these things.  I am that which I despise.  The logs I see in others' eyes are distorted reflections of what is in my own.

The weight of knowing what I am capable of is somewhat crippling.  It takes the proverbial wind out of my sails.  It's humbling to know that I could conceivably become what I despise, that I could hurt those I love most.  And yet, that's the reality of it.  At any moment a series of bad decisions could leave me deeply hurting those I love.  In fact, I know I've done it before, and so often I semi-successfully rationalized my actions as righteous.  I watch others do things I either have done or have the capability of doing and judge them, not seeing that life is so much clearer from the outside looking in.

And so I fight once more to love without reservation or grudge, without judgment or strings attached.  I fight to see myself as the worst of sinners, saved by the wonderful grace of God but proven to be a hopeless sinner.  I fight to see others as beloved of God before all else.

God, have mercy on me, a sinner.  The worst of sinners.

my cup overflows

I've always been a frightfully open person.  I am that girl who openly announces to everyone what I make per hour at my current job (I should probably not do that as much) and I have tended in the past to blog somewhat unflinchingly about things close to my heart.

And now I don't anymore.  You see, there's a boy.  A wonderful man who has consumed much of my thoughts over the past two and a half months.  Our story is ours alone, and it's not one I want to play out in this space, largely because my blog was so often where I grew, processed things, and changed.  For once in my life, I want this part of my life to proceed in its natural surroundings, among our friends and in the reality of the day to day mundane.  And it's not only my story to tell, it's his, too.

And yet, I miss this blog a great deal.  I miss living my life partially here, and I miss letting this blog influence my thoughts.  I miss the opportunity to write things out and process my emotions.

In many ways, though, there are no words for the season of life in which I walk at the present time.  I walk through territory that is, for me, uncharted.  It's been scary, it's been wonderful, it's been something for which I have had to fight and something entirely natural and mundane all at the same time.

And I've learned a few things in the process.  About him, about me, about us, about God, about life.

I've learned that God's will is impossible to discern unless I am willing to follow and obey and seek God first in the day to day of life.  I've learned to lay my worries and concerns down and live in the moment, because this moment is beautiful.  I've learned that to care about another is something exhilarating and entirely mundane, something far removed from Hollywood and yet so much more real and beautiful.  I've learned that a lot of my disgruntled-ness about relationships or about marriage or about sexism or about gender roles or about what-have-you was completely ridiculous.  I've learned a bit of grace toward those in the dating and/or married "clubs" as my eyes have been opened to a side of life I had previously not experienced.  I've learned that the "good guys" are always the ones worth pursuing and that playing hard to get is a joke.

And I'm thankful.  I'm thankful for the godly man God has placed in my life.  My cup overflows.

So if I'm silent here, it's because words fall short at present.  I'll probably be back some day.

Until then.

in which i'm a piano teacher

Seven years ago this month, I sat in a small room and, with every nerve I had stretched taut, played First Arabesque by Claude Debussy for my potential college piano instructor.  My performance of a high school solo earned me a spot as a private student of hers rather than in a group class, and in my two semesters studying under her, I learned more about piano than I probably had in the previous five years.  Studying piano at Northwestern College made music come alive for me, and I'll always be indebted to Dr. Juyeon Kang for making me the musician I am today.

Today I sat in another office not unlike that office from seven years ago with my future in piano once again on the line.  The previous years have seen me transformed into a nomad with no real opportunities to further my piano career.  The songs I learned in college have slipped away and I am left with the artifacts of an earlier time.

The job teaching piano lessons was already mine, but she wanted to hear me play something before I left.  And so Debussy's First Arabesque it was.  As I played, I felt as if my life was coming full circle.  Ever since graduating college, I have avoided any full-scale commitment to music, resisting letting music define me.  But now, with my passion for history slipping away in a beautiful sunset of a season of my life I will treasure forever, I realized how much music has always been there, and how much I want it to always be there.

I remember those countless nights when I'd make my way a fourth mile up that South Dakota hill to the church that never locked its doors.  I'd go inside and sit down at the piano and let the music fill the room full to the bursting with the presence of God.  I remember peace restored as I lay weeping at the altar begging God for wisdom and restoration of the broken pieces of my heart.  I remember dancing through the aisles of that little church, singing "I Love You, Lord."

I remember Friday evenings at Northwestern College, when I'd go with my closest friends to the chapel and we'd sing praise songs for hours.  I remember Emily dancing.  I remember Sarah and I singing beautiful harmonies.  I remember God's presence permeating the atmosphere, heaven on earth.

And then there was Georgia, and playing piano on my lunch break.  That old Carnegie piano with badly damaged strings and keys that nevertheless fills the entire house and lawn with the strains of music, a music which I have witnessed restoring the peace of so many park visitors who for a brief time are able to forget the sadness that plagues them, the day-to-day stress that never ends.

I have the unique privilege of imparting to a few of the young people in my town a love for music.  I am a piano teacher...such a ridiculous privilege.  I feel so unqualified and undeserving...for so long piano was something I did only because I was forced.  And now I get to guide students through the hard work of technique and theory and memorization to a place where music comes alive, sustains, and even connects us with the heart of God.

My optimism is foolish and naive, I know, but I wouldn't trade it in for a thousand doses of realism.

when even the crazy sexists are okay in my book

This story certainly isn't new.  Most of it has been told, in one way or another, many times over the past few years as I make my way through the blessings and the fall-out of a liberal arts education.  I'm a work in progress, and this is my story as I currently understand it.  May God continue to increase my understanding of His wisdom and His Way.

I.

I had all the answers; he had none of the answers.  Our friendship was the perfect storm; while I needed certainty and could not tolerate the gray areas of life, he made it his personal mission to expose the gaps in my ideological armor.  Ultimately, the friction between us in this area was one of many irreconcilable differences between us that played a part in leading to the darkest years of my life.  For a year and a half we did not speak.  In the meantime, I grew up, becoming an adult in a fuller sense of the term, and then we were friends again.  This time I had lost my answers.  I was floating free, embracing doubt as my only truth.

II.

In many ways, I've lived a little bit of everywhere.  From growing up in America's heartland to attending graduate school in the far reaches of the Pacific Northwest to my first "real job" in the heart of the South, I have seen it all.  Raised under a metaphorical rock and entirely pop-culture illiterate, I moved from podunk South Dakota to a liberal city where the hippie bus is said to have broken down in the '60's to a conservative southern town on the edge of nowhere.  It was ideological whiplash, and I began feeling a bit like a chameleon.  By the time I arrived at the edge of nowhere just over a year ago, I was an expert at fitting in with most anyone, and yet I fit in with no one.  I was floating free, entirely confused and increasingly alone.

III.

I distinctly remember those first few months in Bellingham.  Coming off of eight months living at home with my parents and embracing my childhood faith and mindset, I was as "on fire" for God as they come.  I wanted desperately to show my new friends Christ and be a light in a dark place.

I kinda failed.

I mean, I was definitely different.  Looking back, part of me can't believe they were willing to be friends with me.  I was as "home-school kid" as you can get without actually being home schooled.  The thing is, though, I've always been a people pleaser with a relentless desire for knowledge and experience and an insatiable need to fit in.  By the time I left Bellingham, my faith was more secure and my ideological leanings more liberal.

The best part?  I was leaving for the very conservative South.

IV.

I thought I had finally found myself.  As I lived among people I came to love like family, I was increasingly confident in my somewhat differing opinions.  Maybe, just maybe, I was shedding my chameleon skin.  Life was simultaneously exhilarating and exhausting always being the disagreeing one.  As I followed blogs, read books, and formed an opinion on all of the issues, I slowly realized that my life was falling apart from the inside out.  I was angry.  In needing to have an opinion on all of the things, I was unable to tolerate difference.  I held onto my new-found certainty tightly, afraid to lose it.

And then God stepped in.  Through a few well-timed sermon podcasts from a far-away church, through a well-timed book that spoke to my true identity in Christ, through friends that modeled a Christ-like love, and through learning from more than a couple mistakes, I began to realize my need to let go of my anger.  More than that, I realized that my opinions on all of the things had taken the place of my relationship with Jesus.  I could get disgruntled about literal readings of 1Timothy 2 with the best of them, but I had forgotten to love the God who inspired those words.  I was so worried about what God would and wouldn't allow me to do that I was paralyzed from following Him in the day-to-day.

V.

I'm one confused girl.  I tend to rebel against rules and authority figures.  I hate being told what to do, and I hate being told "no."  I tend to want to trust that people will embrace things like sobriety and self control and modesty of their own volition rather than through the imposition of boundaries and rules.  I tend toward a post-modern understanding of the world, where knowing Truth is illusive, at least from our limited perspective.  I tend toward automatically disagreeing with absolute statements, and overly Americanized understandings of history and our place in the world irritate me.  All of these things make moving in "Bible-belt" social circles a challenging endeavor.  Church is often emotionally, mentally, and even spiritually challenging for me.  Sometimes I protect myself by checking out, other times I am deeply hurt, other times I react with anger.

The thing of it is, though, I know that I'm wrong about most things.  My perspective is hopelessly limited.  I am learning to live honestly and with love and grace and peace toward those whose opinions differ, even if I find those opinions repugnant.  And I'm learning that life is good when I'm not constantly at war.

VI.

Small group was coming, and the previous week had been entirely too difficult for me.  I had the day off work and I was bored out of my mind, so I decided to head over toward small group six hours early.  I sat in Dunkin Donuts for a couple hours before making my way to the public library.  I read a book, I wrote in my journal, I made some phone calls.  And as the slow pace of the afternoon began to restore my sense of peace, I felt compelled to pray.  I prayed for my sanity and thanked God for His presence, even when we miss it.  I prayed for the people that I would see that evening and the people who wouldn't be there, for all of the groups of believers meeting around the county that night.  I prayed that we would be receptive to the Holy Spirit, and that He would guard us from pride and anger.

Nothing big happened.  But pride and anger and restlessness also didn't happen.  God was with me, and I knew it.  All through that evening He was there, giving me grace.  That wasn't the beginning and it certainly isn't the end, but it was one moment in my journey of sanctification, one beautiful example of what it means for me to follow Christ in the mundane.

Praise be to His name.

all the intersections

The past month has been a season of silence.  I've made an attempt to silence myself, no longer trusting my voice.  I have shied away from leadership in my church or small group, from blogging about anything but my silence, from speaking from anger.  I haven't been perfect, but this has been a season of striving toward love and peace in all things.  There have been moments when the silence threatens to break and I am bursting at the seams with restless energy, moments when the silence does break and I speak (and often come to regret it), moments when God speaks through me and the silence transforms into a holy whisper.  These are the moments of clarity, when my silence becomes more than a self-imposed discipline, when it becomes clear that silence must be a continual, life-time practice.

~~~

It was a morning of madness, as I have come to think of it.  I had a bad feeling going into it, a feeling of dread overcame me and I didn't know why.  I should have prayed then and there, but I figured it was just typical Marilee emotions: flighty and unpredictable.

My sense of foreboding proved well-founded.  All hell broke loose.  Yelling, tears, accusations flew as they tore each other apart.  I pretended to not be there, pretending to check my email in a flurry of flustered awkwardness.

And then, as quickly as the storm blew in, it departed, leaving me to observe its painful destruction.  I sent out a desperate text message, a dear friend responded telling me she was praying.  And in the minutes that followed, God gave me the opportunity to speak words of hope and peace to a fractured soul, to tell her that I chose no sides, that I was praying for her, and that I knew how painful this must be for her.  She cried, and my soul wept with her, for the hopeless pain she carries day after day, for her loneliness and alienation, for the destruction she leaves in the wake of pain she carries.  As I gently touched her shoulder, I prayed desperately for peace for her.  For forgiveness in this place where forgiveness is so scarce a commodity.  For tenderheartedness when human nature seeks only its own advancement.  For love to break through when anger takes its wicked course.

I prayed for salvation.  For deliverance.  For an end to all this madness.

And God spoke to my heart that I was just in the right place.  Not taking sides, not giving advice.  Just offering love, peace, and hope.  And standing in the gap, interceding on her behalf and on her enemy's behalf.  Because my love must have no boundaries.

~~~

This particular Bible study was immediately and painfully different than the others.  The alone-in-a-crowd feeling was back and I shrunk into my corner and read a novel, not knowing how to engage a room full of friendly strangers.  My social awkwardness was rearing its ugly head and I hated it.  The room was fuller than it had been before and yet I felt alone.  I had come with so much on my heart, so much that God had spoken to me about the passage we were studying.  I was eager for the small talk to end and the study to begin.

And as quickly as it began, it derailed.  Suddenly we were sprinting full-speed down a rabbit trail that had little to do with the matter at hand.  The discussion was good, but I didn't agree with much of it and didn't know how to express my disagreement.  I remained largely silent, but the silence was a struggle.  I silently mourned the loss of the chance to talk about my earlier discovery.  I had thought it so important, and the opportunity was gone.

And in that moment of frustration and disappointment, God spoke to my heart: Daughter, your desire to speak of that which you know is not always from me.  Learn to be silent, to value the words of others above your own, to bring only mercy, compassion, and love to the table.  Learn to let Me speak through you, or don't speak at all.

~~~

James 1:19-21 (The Message)
Post this at all the intersections, dear friends: Lead with your ears, follow up with your tongue, and let anger straggle along in the rear.  God's righteousness doesn't grow from human anger.  So throw all spoiled virtue and cancerous evil in the garbage.  In simple humility, let our gardener, God, landscape you with the Word, making a salvation-garden of your life.