Recently, the weather has gotten a lot colder. The leaves are changing colors, and Halloween has passed. To the consumerist masses (or at least the stores in shopping malls), this means one thing: Christmas is on its way. The funny thing is that in the middle of transitioning from costumes to candy canes, one very important holiday is forgotten: Thanksgiving. Then again, as is often said, every day should be a day of thanksgiving. As my grandma puts it every single morning when she wakes up, "Praise the Lord!"
You ever wonder, though, what Thanksgiving means to non-Christians, or even those not so deeply rooted in the notion of giving thanks to a god of some sort? There's a (somewhat feared) tradition at my church where everyone in the English congregation gathers in the chapel, and my dad (one of the deacons) gets up and calls on people to come up and give thanks. However, given that this takes place in a church, what we give thanks for almost always involves God. What about the rest of the world?
This is exactly what the band Audio Adrenaline set to find out. In this video, they drove around asking random people what made them rejoice. The responses were quite varied. My personal favorites:
"Seeing other people happy."
"To be perfectly honest, I don't even know if I know the meaning of that word right now."
"What makes you think I'm rejoicing?" (This one was particularly amusing because of the way she said it).
"God's grace makes me rejoice, because he knows me for all that I am, and he still loves me."
I enjoyed this video precisely because it wasn't "strictly Christian." Yes, it was made by a (fantastic) Christian band, but it wasn't a Chris-Tomlin-esque "Oh boy, God's grace is so high like the sky, and his love is like the ocean, let's all be happy together!" I grew up in the church, and, frankly, I've grown tired of the constant repetition of God's grace and love and mercy and holiness because it just seems so...stale. Anyways, it really was refreshing to hear some other perspectives of what the concept - and practice - of rejoicing might mean, even for a few minutes. Then again, those four statements above pretty much capture, in order, what I thought it meant to rejoice in the last two years or so. The last statement, in particular, really hit home after this year's RUF Fall Conference, which I will post notes and commentary about at some point, hopefully soon.
So what do I have to rejoice about? Well, for one, I was re-admitted back to school for my last semester of college. This past year has been a rollercoaster of emotions and actions, and I'm starting to see how God was working even then. I'm happy to be alive. I'm thankful for family, that we'll be having a huge family reunion for Thanksgiving in under two weeks. I'm rejoicing for so many things (even while I'm unhappy, angry, or upset for others). I'm rejoicing that I get to go to church tomorrow and see my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ - not because we're a perfect church - far, far from it, but because I'm excited for God to work through, and with, us to continue to mold our relationships. I'll have more to say about this in the future, but for now, it's off to bed and hoping for sunshine tomorrow morning.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
hypothetical little brother
I had a conversation with a friend yesterday on how both of us just wanted to drop our overload of responsibilities and just do something for ourselves - community service, travel the world, whatever. (In my case, it was "had wanted to"...and I'm going to try really hard not to make the same mistake if and when I re-enroll).
In any case, conversation turned to a few people with whom we both served with in a student group two years ago, people we sorely missed. This student group that my friend runs is now quite large, at least its executive board - and we both felt that what it gained in ability to do things, it lost in intimacy.
In my case, I woke up a few mornings ago really, really missing the person who once referred to me as her "hypothetical little brother." This was during Meiklejohn orientation of my junior year. I had no idea what I was doing, where my group was, where to sit, etc. And then I heard "Hey Jon!" And instantly, I knew everything was going to be okay. I still remember the dress she was wearing (light pink, white, and brown, I think), and whenever I feel down, I just have to bring up that image of her to make me feel happy.
I've always felt closer to older people, girls especially, something I've come to call the "older sister complex." To go way back, I actually think this has its roots in elementary school. When I was in fifth grade (and I cannot believe I'm actually writing this), I once had a clear bottle of apple juice that I took out to drink on the bus on the way home. What is the color of apple juice? And what does that look like to immature little kids? Exactly.
Instantly, a chorus of "OHMYGOD IS THAT PEE?" swelled around me, and to be honest, I no longer remember my reaction, but it was probably bewildered, scared, and hurt. What I do remember is a sixth-grade girl standing up and yelling "shut up, you guys, it's just apple juice!" I no longer remember her name, what she looked like, or what we talked about afterward (or even if we did), but that incident stands out in my mind clear as day.
Ever since then, older girls have very often taken on the "older sister" mentality for me - given me advice, listen to me rant, talk with me and make things okay. The only problem is that I can be very clingy, both physically and emotionally (something I'm really trying to work on/pray about). But back to my friend at Meiklejohn orientation. Afterward, we sat down for lunch at a pizza place while we talked about our upcoming semesters, and how apprehensive I was for med school. She didn't lecture me, and gave me a little advice, but more importantly, she made me feel happy, and good about myself - that whatever I chose to do was the right thing, and she had no doubts that I would do it well. Maybe med school wasn't the right path for me. Maybe science in general wasn't. But that was okay. And if I eventually decided I wanted to go to med school, there were plenty of options, and she would always be there for me. I'm pretty sure we ended the conversation on the topic of palm-reading and heart lines, and I walked out reassured...something that I wouldn't begin to really feel again until a few months ago.
As I told my friend (the one running the student group) yesterday, I know that the two of us aren't going to be best friends, and she's not going to pour her life story out to me, even if I do it to her (I'll talk about reciprocity in a future post). And that's okay. We're still friends, and if I, or anyone else, ever need a "consult," she will be there and make things good again as only she can - to "just take deep breaths...you'll be fine; you're very qualified."
In any case, conversation turned to a few people with whom we both served with in a student group two years ago, people we sorely missed. This student group that my friend runs is now quite large, at least its executive board - and we both felt that what it gained in ability to do things, it lost in intimacy.
In my case, I woke up a few mornings ago really, really missing the person who once referred to me as her "hypothetical little brother." This was during Meiklejohn orientation of my junior year. I had no idea what I was doing, where my group was, where to sit, etc. And then I heard "Hey Jon!" And instantly, I knew everything was going to be okay. I still remember the dress she was wearing (light pink, white, and brown, I think), and whenever I feel down, I just have to bring up that image of her to make me feel happy.
I've always felt closer to older people, girls especially, something I've come to call the "older sister complex." To go way back, I actually think this has its roots in elementary school. When I was in fifth grade (and I cannot believe I'm actually writing this), I once had a clear bottle of apple juice that I took out to drink on the bus on the way home. What is the color of apple juice? And what does that look like to immature little kids? Exactly.
Instantly, a chorus of "OHMYGOD IS THAT PEE?" swelled around me, and to be honest, I no longer remember my reaction, but it was probably bewildered, scared, and hurt. What I do remember is a sixth-grade girl standing up and yelling "shut up, you guys, it's just apple juice!" I no longer remember her name, what she looked like, or what we talked about afterward (or even if we did), but that incident stands out in my mind clear as day.
Ever since then, older girls have very often taken on the "older sister" mentality for me - given me advice, listen to me rant, talk with me and make things okay. The only problem is that I can be very clingy, both physically and emotionally (something I'm really trying to work on/pray about). But back to my friend at Meiklejohn orientation. Afterward, we sat down for lunch at a pizza place while we talked about our upcoming semesters, and how apprehensive I was for med school. She didn't lecture me, and gave me a little advice, but more importantly, she made me feel happy, and good about myself - that whatever I chose to do was the right thing, and she had no doubts that I would do it well. Maybe med school wasn't the right path for me. Maybe science in general wasn't. But that was okay. And if I eventually decided I wanted to go to med school, there were plenty of options, and she would always be there for me. I'm pretty sure we ended the conversation on the topic of palm-reading and heart lines, and I walked out reassured...something that I wouldn't begin to really feel again until a few months ago.
As I told my friend (the one running the student group) yesterday, I know that the two of us aren't going to be best friends, and she's not going to pour her life story out to me, even if I do it to her (I'll talk about reciprocity in a future post). And that's okay. We're still friends, and if I, or anyone else, ever need a "consult," she will be there and make things good again as only she can - to "just take deep breaths...you'll be fine; you're very qualified."
Sunday, October 17, 2010
defeating demons, giving praise
It's been one year since my ability to control my thoughts fell apart. I'm now sitting in the same dining hall that brings it all back - the tortured nights trying to do work, scenarios crashing together one after another in my head. I'm here one last time to leave it all behind, to move on and live.
Let me explain. In the fall of my senior year, I was fired up to come back to campus, especially to start my immediate calling of serving faithfully as a one-on-one leader. A good friend had reminded me that summer that one-on-ones are about sharing lives and stories, not necessarily about finding the right things to say or questions to ask. That summer, I also met a wonderful pastor who told me that even if I couldn't discern my life calling at the moment, I could still do my immediate callings that were perhaps smaller in scope, but no less important. Armed with this knowledge and confidence, I plunged in.
As the semester progressed, I grew more disillusioned with fellowship, and tired of the responsibilities I had to fulfill. When Fall Conference came around, I was ready for a break. The last night of the conference, I spent the night in the dining hall reading for class. I was sitting opposite a dear friend who I knew was also struggling with similar issues. As dawn approached, she began to pour her heart out. I had no idea what to say - all I knew was that someone had hurt, and was hurting, my friend, and I would kill - or die - to make that pain stop. I did the only thing I knew how - give advice. The last thing I remember was my friend choking back sobs as we parted ways.
That scene - and how even in my utter powerlessness, I had managed to not be there for her - haunted me in the weeks after. I've always prided myself on my ability to take care of other people, and almost nothing gets me more angry than when people - or I - hurt my friends. I couldn't understand why people who professed to be Christian could not live like one - would act so ruthless and hurtful. From there, it was only a matter of time before my thoughts spiraled out of control. Violent, irrational scenarios of my friendships blowing up, confrontations with people I needed to set straight, and so on. I had no foundation in faith - no reason to believe anymore.
Even after months of therapy, I still had thoughts of throwing myself into the lake at this year's conference. If I couldn't get rid of my demons, I would freeze them in place and end it at the ultimate personification of everything I felt was wrong with our fellowship, with Christianity, with me, and with God. Tonight, though, as I sit here, I know two things: God loves me even when I can't love myself and will continue to break down my idols to reveal how beautiful He is; and that He is more powerful than any of my idols that became demons, and that when I keep my eyes open in pondering, daring faith, God will indeed show us what He can do. For this, I rest secure in His promise fulfilled of joyous judgement through Jesus, and will "join with the earth and...give my praise to You."
Let me explain. In the fall of my senior year, I was fired up to come back to campus, especially to start my immediate calling of serving faithfully as a one-on-one leader. A good friend had reminded me that summer that one-on-ones are about sharing lives and stories, not necessarily about finding the right things to say or questions to ask. That summer, I also met a wonderful pastor who told me that even if I couldn't discern my life calling at the moment, I could still do my immediate callings that were perhaps smaller in scope, but no less important. Armed with this knowledge and confidence, I plunged in.
As the semester progressed, I grew more disillusioned with fellowship, and tired of the responsibilities I had to fulfill. When Fall Conference came around, I was ready for a break. The last night of the conference, I spent the night in the dining hall reading for class. I was sitting opposite a dear friend who I knew was also struggling with similar issues. As dawn approached, she began to pour her heart out. I had no idea what to say - all I knew was that someone had hurt, and was hurting, my friend, and I would kill - or die - to make that pain stop. I did the only thing I knew how - give advice. The last thing I remember was my friend choking back sobs as we parted ways.
That scene - and how even in my utter powerlessness, I had managed to not be there for her - haunted me in the weeks after. I've always prided myself on my ability to take care of other people, and almost nothing gets me more angry than when people - or I - hurt my friends. I couldn't understand why people who professed to be Christian could not live like one - would act so ruthless and hurtful. From there, it was only a matter of time before my thoughts spiraled out of control. Violent, irrational scenarios of my friendships blowing up, confrontations with people I needed to set straight, and so on. I had no foundation in faith - no reason to believe anymore.
Even after months of therapy, I still had thoughts of throwing myself into the lake at this year's conference. If I couldn't get rid of my demons, I would freeze them in place and end it at the ultimate personification of everything I felt was wrong with our fellowship, with Christianity, with me, and with God. Tonight, though, as I sit here, I know two things: God loves me even when I can't love myself and will continue to break down my idols to reveal how beautiful He is; and that He is more powerful than any of my idols that became demons, and that when I keep my eyes open in pondering, daring faith, God will indeed show us what He can do. For this, I rest secure in His promise fulfilled of joyous judgement through Jesus, and will "join with the earth and...give my praise to You."
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
follow the instructions as directed
...and you will not feel like a huge idiot after a whole day wasted trying to do something really simple. I'm sure I could tie this into a "follow Christ and everything will be awesome" analogy, except that 1) that's not true, even most of the time, and 2) I'm too excited about changing the colors of my newly-sync-ed calendars.
My next post will expand on the first point, though - it's already in draft mode, so should be up soon.
Read and following instructions, guys (and girls)!
My next post will expand on the first point, though - it's already in draft mode, so should be up soon.
Read and following instructions, guys (and girls)!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
thank you audrey
...for having one of the most encouraging, insightful, relevant, and faith-centered blogs out there. Read her blog at: http://moomooaudrey.wordpress.com/. Also, I'm so happy that her first EP, Midnight Bloom, was just released! Listening to it right now... hooked already. Listen here. And purchase here. I'll probably write a blog post or two about her songs at some point... for now, I'm just thankful for this dose of much-needed encouragement this morning.
pounding heart, pounding nails
One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes goes like this:
"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."
I first read this during a Family Group study sometime during my junior year. I don't remember what the study was about (sorry Josh...), but this quote stuck out to me.
I just don't understand why it's so hard to love and not get hurt. Why can't everyone just love one another and be happy, all the time? This sounds so... happy-go-lucky, it's sickening. Of course I know why. We all sin, we want what's best for ourselves, and in the end, whatever love we find with another person is only temporary. If a host of other factors doesn't kill the relationship, death will.
In college, I screwed up a lot of friendships with my "open book" personality and habit of delving into everyone's personal lives to make sure they were "okay." Even now, any defensive, flat, or hostile comments from friends are bound to set me off into a tailspin of "oh my God, what did I do wrong? Why can't I love people?" On the one hand, this is arrogant - and on the other, it's completely impractical - you simply can't live that way.
Many times, I have tried the opposite tactic - of nailing my heart in that coffin - of ignoring and breaking friendships in my head in drastic scenarios. My thinking: if I can't love everybody equally well, and all the time, then I'm not going to love anyone - I can't deal with the hurt. The problem? Every single time I pound a nail into my coffin of security, I come up short. Relationships, more often than not, revive, and it's only myself that I'm torturing.
Every single time I pound a nail into my coffin, I feel like I'm pounding one into Jesus, stretched out on that cross. And this is why I cannot stop loving. This is why love is "the greatest of these." (1 Cor. 13:13). This is why, even though it hurts like hell sometimes, I will keep loving - because Jesus did it first. May all of us continue to follow His example.
Edit: The C.S. Lewis quote comes from his book The Four Loves.
"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."
I first read this during a Family Group study sometime during my junior year. I don't remember what the study was about (sorry Josh...), but this quote stuck out to me.
I just don't understand why it's so hard to love and not get hurt. Why can't everyone just love one another and be happy, all the time? This sounds so... happy-go-lucky, it's sickening. Of course I know why. We all sin, we want what's best for ourselves, and in the end, whatever love we find with another person is only temporary. If a host of other factors doesn't kill the relationship, death will.
In college, I screwed up a lot of friendships with my "open book" personality and habit of delving into everyone's personal lives to make sure they were "okay." Even now, any defensive, flat, or hostile comments from friends are bound to set me off into a tailspin of "oh my God, what did I do wrong? Why can't I love people?" On the one hand, this is arrogant - and on the other, it's completely impractical - you simply can't live that way.
Many times, I have tried the opposite tactic - of nailing my heart in that coffin - of ignoring and breaking friendships in my head in drastic scenarios. My thinking: if I can't love everybody equally well, and all the time, then I'm not going to love anyone - I can't deal with the hurt. The problem? Every single time I pound a nail into my coffin of security, I come up short. Relationships, more often than not, revive, and it's only myself that I'm torturing.
Every single time I pound a nail into my coffin, I feel like I'm pounding one into Jesus, stretched out on that cross. And this is why I cannot stop loving. This is why love is "the greatest of these." (1 Cor. 13:13). This is why, even though it hurts like hell sometimes, I will keep loving - because Jesus did it first. May all of us continue to follow His example.
Edit: The C.S. Lewis quote comes from his book The Four Loves.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
total depravity, irresistible grace
It is currently 4 am, and I am somehow still up, trying to fill an empty page with a string of words that actually means something. Spent an hour looking for jobs instead of writing my paper, which, interestingly enough, is on Crime and Punishment. Actually, I think the whole theme of the story can be summed up by the four words in my entry title. Then again, they also summarize my whole life up to this point. There's a reason why these two phrases go together (besides accounting for the T and I in TULIP, something that I'm not equipped to write about at this point, but maybe someday...) I don't think you can live in total depravity without realizing irresistible grace - to do so is to diminish God's boundless love for us.
Let me explain. For the past two years (and intermittently before that), I've been living in what amounted to an emotional black hole - all my life experiences, good and bad, and all the feelings associated with them, disappeared into the mass of unfulfilled expectations and failed attempts to be "happy." As time passed, my daily attitude became "wow, I suck at life, and there's no hope for me." Obviously, this didn't exactly help my mood or productivity, and I felt, in a sense, "totally depraved."
Now, as a senior facing an uncertain job market, (still) unfulfilled expectations, and a questionable future, I still have those moments, quite often, actually. Recently, though, I've come to the realization that my attitude of "there is no hope" is actually quite accurate - but missing a crucial piece - that of reconciliation. To quote Paul, "For if, when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!" (Romans 5:10).
The implications of this verse are enormous - it is not enough to realize that we are saved from our sins through Christ's death on the cross. True, that is an integral part of Christianity, and probably the concept most of us would use when justifying our own failures. We must realize that in addition to being freed from sin (a sort of negative construction), we are also free to live without it (a decidedly more positive one). This isn't to say that we will never sin again (because of course we will) - but that our actions need not be hindered by the fact that we are awash in sin and can never do anything right - because we are reconciled and justified in Christ. In essence, Christ's death means that our guilt is taken away, and we can live with Him forever, but His resurrection means that our shame is taken away too - and that we can actually begin to live through, and for, Him.
I'm going to end this with something a dear friend once told me: "Of course, God's always there to be like... 'Hey guess what, I'm in charge. You will never be successful enough that you won't need Me, or such a failure that I leave you.'" When we finally realize how totally depraved we are, that's when God's irresistible grace comes in - and shows us why we truly live.
EDIT: I wrote this sometime last fall, before I took a year off from school.
Let me explain. For the past two years (and intermittently before that), I've been living in what amounted to an emotional black hole - all my life experiences, good and bad, and all the feelings associated with them, disappeared into the mass of unfulfilled expectations and failed attempts to be "happy." As time passed, my daily attitude became "wow, I suck at life, and there's no hope for me." Obviously, this didn't exactly help my mood or productivity, and I felt, in a sense, "totally depraved."
Now, as a senior facing an uncertain job market, (still) unfulfilled expectations, and a questionable future, I still have those moments, quite often, actually. Recently, though, I've come to the realization that my attitude of "there is no hope" is actually quite accurate - but missing a crucial piece - that of reconciliation. To quote Paul, "For if, when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!" (Romans 5:10).
The implications of this verse are enormous - it is not enough to realize that we are saved from our sins through Christ's death on the cross. True, that is an integral part of Christianity, and probably the concept most of us would use when justifying our own failures. We must realize that in addition to being freed from sin (a sort of negative construction), we are also free to live without it (a decidedly more positive one). This isn't to say that we will never sin again (because of course we will) - but that our actions need not be hindered by the fact that we are awash in sin and can never do anything right - because we are reconciled and justified in Christ. In essence, Christ's death means that our guilt is taken away, and we can live with Him forever, but His resurrection means that our shame is taken away too - and that we can actually begin to live through, and for, Him.
I'm going to end this with something a dear friend once told me: "Of course, God's always there to be like... 'Hey guess what, I'm in charge. You will never be successful enough that you won't need Me, or such a failure that I leave you.'" When we finally realize how totally depraved we are, that's when God's irresistible grace comes in - and shows us why we truly live.
EDIT: I wrote this sometime last fall, before I took a year off from school.
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