A poem from my depression last year. I just ran across it and wanted to post it here.
I mean really...
What's to love?
Nothing.
Here I am...slumped.
No one.
All alone without anything,
Or anyone
To call me their own.
No one.
All alone, abandoned, forsaken...
I cry out...
No one.
In the midst of this,
The hoof beats hasten.
(I hear them coming.)
Nothing.
Slumped in the dark...
Nothing.
I long, I yearn, I desire...
Nothing.
The hoof beats draw near,
They gallop upon me,
Tread ground around me,
Trounce next to me...
Something.
In the midst of this now...
Something.
The hoof beats...
Something.
I stand here...
Something.
Someone here has called me,
Has called me their own.
Someone.
I am someone
Out of this nothing, this no one.
Someone.
Here I am standing...
Someone.
I mean, really,
I've been loved.
9.9.10
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Mockingbird Conference Preview: Freedom to Fail: A Conversation about Grace and Failure in Parenting (and being parented).
On December 6, 2006, the doctor handed us an 8lb ball of pure fury that sounded more like a baby pterodactyl than, well, a human baby. Filled with romantic notions of being the perfect mom and dad (always calm, always gentle, always smiling), we headed home with our first born son. When he wasn't sleeping (which was scattered) he was screaming. Within two weeks after our son's birth, everything that we believed would be our parenting experience shattered. Our patience and energy levels were depleted, and our frustration and exhaustion levels were sky high. Rather than feeling nurturing, we felt resentful and angry; rather than going to him when he cried, I (Lauren) would crawl under the covers and cry. We couldn't do it; we couldn't be the perfect parents. We were plagued with guilt and convinced of our failure. We were failing, and our failure would be our son's undoing.But the Gospel told us something different: that it wasn't all up to us or on our shoulders, that we were forgiven and justified apart from our actions. The Gospel put the lie to the equation that perfect parents = perfect children (or that perfection is possible in either party). The Gospel gave us freedom...freedom to be the parents we were--faults and strengths combined--with the freedom to fail.
This breakout session was developed out of this experience of feeling like a failure in parenting and the freedom that the Gospel message brings. Come and hear our experience; more importantly, we would love to hear yours.
To register, click here.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
"The Siren Call of Temptation"
(The following is written as an "...and this" response to something a good friend of mine (and someone I respect in "field") wrote over at his blog. Click here for excellent his post. Oh, and in case you are wondering what in the world an "...and this" response is...picture it this way...if we were in class together and my friend had just given a response to something that I really liked but sparked my own thought that would further emphasize his point, I would promptly raise my hand (or butt in) and say, "...and this..." adding more weight to the existing argument. So not only is this a new post, but I've skillfully invented a "response" category. Go me!)
I love classical music. It calms me, it always has. So, when my little Q man was born and all he did was SCREAM (okay, unfair...maybe 2% of the time he 'tried' to sleep), I quickly developed a habit of turning on the classical music...for me, really. So, more often then not, if you stop by our house in the middle of the day you will typically hear classical music (and, maybe, me yelling over the top of it...).
However, when I work out, it's a whole different story in music genre. Out goes Bach and in goes Rage Against the Machine; out with Mozart, in with Tool. Out with calm and in with energy. Now, since I've gotten married, my music purchases have reduced to nothing, so I highly depend on others to introduce me to new "work-out-worthy" songs. My brother-in-law left some cd's he had burned in our van, and I took to listening to them. And came across a few songs that I deemed worthy. One in particular caught my ear, so to speak: Jem's "Come on Closer". (And, here's where my "...and this..." response to my friend's post kicks in.)
This song, simply put, is alluring. It draws you in. The effervescent high pitched notes play like candy on your musical tongue. You can't help but think that the introductory notes are the same notes that follow fairies around. They are sweet and enticing, "Come closer" they beckon..."come a little bit closer..." And you do. Add in the soft voice of Jem, assuring you that this is fine, this is good, this is what you want, this will make you happy. You are completely drawn in by the sirenic call.
But if you listen just a bit longer, the song unveils it's more primal undertones...the bass kicks in and, as the listener, you feel the lurking beast. And it's you that is its target. The song is not evidential sweet pixie dust of tinkling fairies looking only out for your benefit and amusement, but the alluring candy path leading Hansel and Gretle to the witch's oven. But you are already in and now the face of the beast has been revealed; however, you are powerless to fight it. It has won. And it doesn't back off, victorious; it remains and waits, lurking about you.
You cannot fight this beast on your own; it will win...every time. To me, this song epitomizes the siren call of temptation, especially for those of us who struggle with addiction (for me, I struggle with food addiction issues). So, when I read (or hear) people make comments that addicts just need to "choose" to resist this 'temptation' I (with my friend) find it hard to restrain the lasers from my eyes. "Resist??!?!" I want to question, vehemently. "Resist this very thing that has all the power over me?" To me, statements like "just choose" do not fully grasp the nature and power of sin and temptation. Temptation is not a mouse; it's a very beautifully disguised dragon that lures you into it's cave only to shackle you to its wall with every intent of drawing from you your life. So again, I ask, "Resist this?!"
Resisting never works, in fact it makes it worse. You can't avoid temptation and you can't take it by the horns. Your only choice--like Pilgrim does with the Black Knight in Bunyon's Pilgrim's Progress--is to face it. And by facing it, you admit it to be what it is: more powerful than you. In that admission, you admit another thing: I am powerless. And in admitting your own powerlessness, you cry out for help. And the One who c
an defeat this thing that has power over you (and has actually already defeated it), rescues you.
We are saved from death by Jesus' death. We are given new life because we, our very selves, are brought to death with Jesus in His death; and being like Him in His death promises us the new life that comes with His resurrection is also ours (Rom. 6:5). As an addict and as a Christian, I, myself, never have power over that which lurks to ensnare me and lure me back in to it's power, but the One who lives in me (in whom I also live) does have that very power; it is to Him that I turn every day all day, powerless and desperate, and find rest and freedom.
For a much earlier post written on something similar, click here. This was the post right before my theological conversion to L/G.
I love classical music. It calms me, it always has. So, when my little Q man was born and all he did was SCREAM (okay, unfair...maybe 2% of the time he 'tried' to sleep), I quickly developed a habit of turning on the classical music...for me, really. So, more often then not, if you stop by our house in the middle of the day you will typically hear classical music (and, maybe, me yelling over the top of it...).However, when I work out, it's a whole different story in music genre. Out goes Bach and in goes Rage Against the Machine; out with Mozart, in with Tool. Out with calm and in with energy. Now, since I've gotten married, my music purchases have reduced to nothing, so I highly depend on others to introduce me to new "work-out-worthy" songs. My brother-in-law left some cd's he had burned in our van, and I took to listening to them. And came across a few songs that I deemed worthy. One in particular caught my ear, so to speak: Jem's "Come on Closer". (And, here's where my "...and this..." response to my friend's post kicks in.)
This song, simply put, is alluring. It draws you in. The effervescent high pitched notes play like candy on your musical tongue. You can't help but think that the introductory notes are the same notes that follow fairies around. They are sweet and enticing, "Come closer" they beckon..."come a little bit closer..." And you do. Add in the soft voice of Jem, assuring you that this is fine, this is good, this is what you want, this will make you happy. You are completely drawn in by the sirenic call.
But if you listen just a bit longer, the song unveils it's more primal undertones...the bass kicks in and, as the listener, you feel the lurking beast. And it's you that is its target. The song is not evidential sweet pixie dust of tinkling fairies looking only out for your benefit and amusement, but the alluring candy path leading Hansel and Gretle to the witch's oven. But you are already in and now the face of the beast has been revealed; however, you are powerless to fight it. It has won. And it doesn't back off, victorious; it remains and waits, lurking about you.
And now you're satisfied
A twinkle in your eye
Go to sleep for ten
And anticipating I will be waiting For you to wake again
You cannot fight this beast on your own; it will win...every time. To me, this song epitomizes the siren call of temptation, especially for those of us who struggle with addiction (for me, I struggle with food addiction issues). So, when I read (or hear) people make comments that addicts just need to "choose" to resist this 'temptation' I (with my friend) find it hard to restrain the lasers from my eyes. "Resist??!?!" I want to question, vehemently. "Resist this very thing that has all the power over me?" To me, statements like "just choose" do not fully grasp the nature and power of sin and temptation. Temptation is not a mouse; it's a very beautifully disguised dragon that lures you into it's cave only to shackle you to its wall with every intent of drawing from you your life. So again, I ask, "Resist this?!"
Resisting never works, in fact it makes it worse. You can't avoid temptation and you can't take it by the horns. Your only choice--like Pilgrim does with the Black Knight in Bunyon's Pilgrim's Progress--is to face it. And by facing it, you admit it to be what it is: more powerful than you. In that admission, you admit another thing: I am powerless. And in admitting your own powerlessness, you cry out for help. And the One who c
an defeat this thing that has power over you (and has actually already defeated it), rescues you.Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin. (Romans 7:24-25)
We are saved from death by Jesus' death. We are given new life because we, our very selves, are brought to death with Jesus in His death; and being like Him in His death promises us the new life that comes with His resurrection is also ours (Rom. 6:5). As an addict and as a Christian, I, myself, never have power over that which lurks to ensnare me and lure me back in to it's power, but the One who lives in me (in whom I also live) does have that very power; it is to Him that I turn every day all day, powerless and desperate, and find rest and freedom.
For a much earlier post written on something similar, click here. This was the post right before my theological conversion to L/G.
Friday, January 28, 2011
What's In A Name...
I remember when I chose the name for my blog, I just loved it. I still do. Yes, it is a bit cumbersome and long, but it really fit.
I'm a stay at home mom who studies and writes about theology; what better then to describe my blog with the tools that I use: needles, pots, and pens. (Okay...I'll confess, I don't sew everyday, but I do have needles (both sewing and knitting and crocheting....wait, no, that's a hook....so I also have hooks). I do cook, so pots are appropriate. And, well, I type rather than pen anything, but I do use pens to underline when I'm reading.) It's what they call in biblical Hebrew a merism.
A merism is something quite like: land flowing with milk and honey. The milk and honey can be viewed as the exreme ends of a spectrum; thus, to say "a land flowing with milk and honey" is essentially saying a land flowing with everything from milk to honey. So, the name of my blog is a merism: it's not strictly needles, pots and pens, but these are the things that represent my world. Essentially, "The Needle, The Pot, and The Pen" should suggest everything about home and writing (and study).
But a hidden unknown fact about the title of my blog is that it is based on a portion of a poem by Anne Bradstreet (one of my favorite poets). Here is the stanza from the poem "The Prologue" from which I created the name for my blog:
Anne Bradstreet my hero and my inspiration.
To be a woman in theology is hard. To be an evangelical, faithful, believing, Christian woman AND embarking on a theological career is hard. There are more times then there are not that I feel the judgment from fellow Christians (either male of female): wouldn't your hand better fit a needle than a theological book?
I can't deny that I have been called to both worlds. I have. I love both my family and serving them, and I love Jesus and serving His people through studying and teaching His word. And I'm passionate that women, alongside men, are gifted to bring His message, the Gospel message, to others. Often, I feel alone. But I'm not. Not only do I have a couple of good friends who pursue similar objectives to mine, I also have women who have gone before me in history who what presuppositions have been put on women, like Anne Bradstreet.
So, there. You have it. A deeper look into why I named this blog what I did. It's a tribute to women who paved the way for women like me. And for that, I humbly thank them.
I'm a stay at home mom who studies and writes about theology; what better then to describe my blog with the tools that I use: needles, pots, and pens. (Okay...I'll confess, I don't sew everyday, but I do have needles (both sewing and knitting and crocheting....wait, no, that's a hook....so I also have hooks). I do cook, so pots are appropriate. And, well, I type rather than pen anything, but I do use pens to underline when I'm reading.) It's what they call in biblical Hebrew a merism.
A merism is something quite like: land flowing with milk and honey. The milk and honey can be viewed as the exreme ends of a spectrum; thus, to say "a land flowing with milk and honey" is essentially saying a land flowing with everything from milk to honey. So, the name of my blog is a merism: it's not strictly needles, pots and pens, but these are the things that represent my world. Essentially, "The Needle, The Pot, and The Pen" should suggest everything about home and writing (and study).
But a hidden unknown fact about the title of my blog is that it is based on a portion of a poem by Anne Bradstreet (one of my favorite poets). Here is the stanza from the poem "The Prologue" from which I created the name for my blog:
Anne Bradstreet is not only my hero because she is a fantastic poet, but also because she was not afraid to do what most thought more appropriate for a man to do: write poetry. She new the criticisms, but wrote in spite of them. She was a devoted wife and mother and educated and smart and prolific with her 'pen'.
- I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
- Who says my hand a needle better fits.
- A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong;
- For such despite they cast on female wits,
- If what I do prove well, it won't advance--
- They'll say it was stolen, or else it was by chance.
Anne Bradstreet my hero and my inspiration.
To be a woman in theology is hard. To be an evangelical, faithful, believing, Christian woman AND embarking on a theological career is hard. There are more times then there are not that I feel the judgment from fellow Christians (either male of female): wouldn't your hand better fit a needle than a theological book?
I can't deny that I have been called to both worlds. I have. I love both my family and serving them, and I love Jesus and serving His people through studying and teaching His word. And I'm passionate that women, alongside men, are gifted to bring His message, the Gospel message, to others. Often, I feel alone. But I'm not. Not only do I have a couple of good friends who pursue similar objectives to mine, I also have women who have gone before me in history who what presuppositions have been put on women, like Anne Bradstreet.
So, there. You have it. A deeper look into why I named this blog what I did. It's a tribute to women who paved the way for women like me. And for that, I humbly thank them.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
No.
No.
It's a word that I care little for. Yet, it's a word that carries with it much weight; so while I care little for it, that does not mean that it does not effect me. It does. To be honest, I not only care little for the word, but I flat out hate it. Nothing brings me down faster than a no (and any of its ilk). Not only do I seriously dislike hearing 'no', I also dislike using it. I have children, thus, 'no' is a common word used in my house. "No, don't touch that", "No, don't do that"...no no no. NO. It's exhausting. It's exhausting not only using the word, but then dealing with the manifold repercussions of having used the words. Turns out, 2 and 4 year old boys don't like hearing 'no' all that much either.
But is 'no' all that bad? Should we avoid using 'no' to make things 'feel' better or 'sound' better? I remember when I used to baby sit and the fad at the time was not to say the word 'no' to the child to protect the child's self esteem. So you could not say 'no', but you could say 'you may not'. Okay. Hmmm. I guess I understand that the rattled of "NO!" can be harsh and scary, but is 'you may not' any more protective of a child's self esteem? Are you not, essentially, saying the same thing: this thing that you are doing is wrong...? I also remember there was a push in schools for teachers to stop using red ink to grade papers. (yes, it is okay to role your eyes here. i did.) The idea behind it was the same as the idea behind changing the way parents/care givers adjusted a child's behavior: red is harsh and judgmental and can affect the student's self-esteem. But has anyone smiled over, let's say, a pink"F' as opposed to a red one? "Ah, shoot, I got a 50% percent, but that's okay, it's pink! My GPA is now ruined, but at least it was ruined by a pink F!" yay! No. The fact is, an 'F' is an 'F' no matter what color is used to write it...let's just be honest here.
So, again, I come back to my question, is 'no' all that bad. Would it best to do away with 'no' totally? If I dislike 'no' so much, shouldn't I just get rid of it?
The answer to that is 'no'. As a caveat, this is by no means a full treatise on the subject, but just some thoughts; I'm sure there are wholes planted through out and that I need to think more on this. But for what it's worth, here's what I'm thinking thus far:
I'm a firm believer and supporter that the Gospel is a big 'yes' statement. It is. The Gospel is, in fact, a very firm 'yes' judgment in my favor. The Gospel is God for me (pro nobis, for those of you yearning for some Latin). The Cross event is fundamentally 'yes', a 'yes' to true humanity, to true life, to true you-ness (or me-ness, depending on the perspective of the reader), to true relationalness. The speech event that is the Gospel is the speech that brings you (the reader/hearer) to the very climactic 'yes' that is climax of the Gospel.
But, the reader/hearer must first be brought through the big, hard to swallow 'no'. In order to get to the yes, to the yes that is true life and true existence, the false life and sham existence need to be dealt with; by 'no' they are surely dealt with. The Cross is a 'yes' for us, but it is also a 'no'; a big whopping 'no' to the sinner. In this way, Barth is not incorrect to locate the Law and the Gospel in the cross (however, where Barth takes a dangerous turn, in my opinion, is to remove the dialectic between the law and the Gospel). The cross is the fulfillment of the consequences of the law. On the Cross Jesus suffers unrelationalness with the Father when the father turns his back on him (He is 'forsaken'). Jesus suffers the 'no', the very 'no' we deserved as sinners. And in His death he suffers the 'no'. (even here we can think of Jesus' victory over death as a 'no' to death thereby rendering it an impossibility for those who are in Him and partake in both His death and resurrection.) In this same way, we, being like Him in his death, suffer the no and are brought to death. (This is good news. So stay with me.) Because, we can't have new life unless that new life has been brought out of sure death. And being like Jesus in His death we will be like him in, we will partake of His resurrection (Rom. 6:5, Phil. 3:10-11). Partaking of His resurrection does not happen until we've heard the 'no'--our sham existence being rendered a death blow--and are lead through that 'no' (death) to the wondrous 'yes' (life).
Again, the ultimate message of the Gospel is 'yes' (and on this we should focus) but there is also a 'no'; a 'no' that we should not try to pretend is not there or sing "la la la" at the top of our lungs in order not to hear it. We need to first hear the 'no' because then we hear the 'yes' (the climax of the Gospel). This is one way to understand Law/Gospel preaching. That those of us who preach continually preach the message that brings the hearer through the no into the yes, through death into life. When we just preach the law we preach only the 'no', and the law will never (and can never) bring it's hearer to it's climactic point, it just says 'yes' or 'no' and since we all fail all the time, it renders only it's verdict 'no'. (And Grace/Gospel without the law just doesn't make sense.) The fullness of the Gospel actually brings us through the 'no' to it's rightful conclusion: 'yes to me, to you, to us.'
So what does this mean for us as in how we reprimand our children or grade papers? Well, I don't fully know; however, I say 'no' and I use 'red ink' when I mark. Primarily, because I know and do not expect the 'no' alone to change behavior. I can say 'no' because I have the other word, 'yes'; I'm not afraid of the 'no' because I've 'heard' yes. Having used a 'no' to my child's actions, I can in fact give them something more valuable: a 'yes' to them. In our house, with the ever present dialectic between law and grace, I want my children to know and understand that it's okay to fail and that my love for them is not contingent on anything than just because. And, as I grow into--eventually one day-- becoming a teacher, I will want this same dynamic and delicate balance for my classroom.
And in the meantime, as I fail (the 'no') I can be reminded by the Gospel that in light of my failures, God has spoken a 'yes'; and a sweet 'yes' it is in the midst of my failures.
It's a word that I care little for. Yet, it's a word that carries with it much weight; so while I care little for it, that does not mean that it does not effect me. It does. To be honest, I not only care little for the word, but I flat out hate it. Nothing brings me down faster than a no (and any of its ilk). Not only do I seriously dislike hearing 'no', I also dislike using it. I have children, thus, 'no' is a common word used in my house. "No, don't touch that", "No, don't do that"...no no no. NO. It's exhausting. It's exhausting not only using the word, but then dealing with the manifold repercussions of having used the words. Turns out, 2 and 4 year old boys don't like hearing 'no' all that much either.
But is 'no' all that bad? Should we avoid using 'no' to make things 'feel' better or 'sound' better? I remember when I used to baby sit and the fad at the time was not to say the word 'no' to the child to protect the child's self esteem. So you could not say 'no', but you could say 'you may not'. Okay. Hmmm. I guess I understand that the rattled of "NO!" can be harsh and scary, but is 'you may not' any more protective of a child's self esteem? Are you not, essentially, saying the same thing: this thing that you are doing is wrong...? I also remember there was a push in schools for teachers to stop using red ink to grade papers. (yes, it is okay to role your eyes here. i did.) The idea behind it was the same as the idea behind changing the way parents/care givers adjusted a child's behavior: red is harsh and judgmental and can affect the student's self-esteem. But has anyone smiled over, let's say, a pink"F' as opposed to a red one? "Ah, shoot, I got a 50% percent, but that's okay, it's pink! My GPA is now ruined, but at least it was ruined by a pink F!" yay! No. The fact is, an 'F' is an 'F' no matter what color is used to write it...let's just be honest here.
So, again, I come back to my question, is 'no' all that bad. Would it best to do away with 'no' totally? If I dislike 'no' so much, shouldn't I just get rid of it?
The answer to that is 'no'. As a caveat, this is by no means a full treatise on the subject, but just some thoughts; I'm sure there are wholes planted through out and that I need to think more on this. But for what it's worth, here's what I'm thinking thus far:
I'm a firm believer and supporter that the Gospel is a big 'yes' statement. It is. The Gospel is, in fact, a very firm 'yes' judgment in my favor. The Gospel is God for me (pro nobis, for those of you yearning for some Latin). The Cross event is fundamentally 'yes', a 'yes' to true humanity, to true life, to true you-ness (or me-ness, depending on the perspective of the reader), to true relationalness. The speech event that is the Gospel is the speech that brings you (the reader/hearer) to the very climactic 'yes' that is climax of the Gospel.
But, the reader/hearer must first be brought through the big, hard to swallow 'no'. In order to get to the yes, to the yes that is true life and true existence, the false life and sham existence need to be dealt with; by 'no' they are surely dealt with. The Cross is a 'yes' for us, but it is also a 'no'; a big whopping 'no' to the sinner. In this way, Barth is not incorrect to locate the Law and the Gospel in the cross (however, where Barth takes a dangerous turn, in my opinion, is to remove the dialectic between the law and the Gospel). The cross is the fulfillment of the consequences of the law. On the Cross Jesus suffers unrelationalness with the Father when the father turns his back on him (He is 'forsaken'). Jesus suffers the 'no', the very 'no' we deserved as sinners. And in His death he suffers the 'no'. (even here we can think of Jesus' victory over death as a 'no' to death thereby rendering it an impossibility for those who are in Him and partake in both His death and resurrection.) In this same way, we, being like Him in his death, suffer the no and are brought to death. (This is good news. So stay with me.) Because, we can't have new life unless that new life has been brought out of sure death. And being like Jesus in His death we will be like him in, we will partake of His resurrection (Rom. 6:5, Phil. 3:10-11). Partaking of His resurrection does not happen until we've heard the 'no'--our sham existence being rendered a death blow--and are lead through that 'no' (death) to the wondrous 'yes' (life).
Again, the ultimate message of the Gospel is 'yes' (and on this we should focus) but there is also a 'no'; a 'no' that we should not try to pretend is not there or sing "la la la" at the top of our lungs in order not to hear it. We need to first hear the 'no' because then we hear the 'yes' (the climax of the Gospel). This is one way to understand Law/Gospel preaching. That those of us who preach continually preach the message that brings the hearer through the no into the yes, through death into life. When we just preach the law we preach only the 'no', and the law will never (and can never) bring it's hearer to it's climactic point, it just says 'yes' or 'no' and since we all fail all the time, it renders only it's verdict 'no'. (And Grace/Gospel without the law just doesn't make sense.) The fullness of the Gospel actually brings us through the 'no' to it's rightful conclusion: 'yes to me, to you, to us.'
So what does this mean for us as in how we reprimand our children or grade papers? Well, I don't fully know; however, I say 'no' and I use 'red ink' when I mark. Primarily, because I know and do not expect the 'no' alone to change behavior. I can say 'no' because I have the other word, 'yes'; I'm not afraid of the 'no' because I've 'heard' yes. Having used a 'no' to my child's actions, I can in fact give them something more valuable: a 'yes' to them. In our house, with the ever present dialectic between law and grace, I want my children to know and understand that it's okay to fail and that my love for them is not contingent on anything than just because. And, as I grow into--eventually one day-- becoming a teacher, I will want this same dynamic and delicate balance for my classroom.
And in the meantime, as I fail (the 'no') I can be reminded by the Gospel that in light of my failures, God has spoken a 'yes'; and a sweet 'yes' it is in the midst of my failures.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
The Gospel and My Depression
Here is the transcript of a homily/testimony I recently shared at my seminary (12/3/10).
Tina’s email back in August asked people to share a testimony to what God is doing in their life. I was the first to respond to the email and was properly rewarded with picking any Friday I wanted. I thought for a moment, and surveyed my life: it was pretty bleak. So, I decided: well, I’ll pick a date well into the future, and by then, surely, things will look better. Well, here it is, December 3rd, and I still have nothing exciting to share…So, I’m still stuck looking for an answer to the question: What is God doing in my life? As I survey the historical landscape that has been my life for the past many months, I can only answer with this: I am being forced to reckon with the fact that I am human, andI am totally, utterly, and desperately needy for the Cross, for Jesus.
Let me explain:
I’m coming out of a season decked with many losses and failures, and enveloped by severe depression. In early April we lost Daniel’s Grandmother; 5 weeks later, my Grandmother; 5 days later our 9.5 week pregnancy. In June we lost our financial footing because of a van that couldn’t pass inspection. In September we lost a significant job opportunity that had given us great hope; a week after that, our other car was stolen for amusement and with the intent to destroy it. Finally, in October, I was confronted, boldly, with the reality that I was failing (and hurting, inadvertently) a dear friend and our friendship. All of this mixed in with months of struggle with my oldest son—who repeatedly hit me, threatened me (as much as a 3.5 year old can), and telling me he just flat out didn’t like me.
Losing and failing. Each one of these events that I was experiencing is normal and even tolerable; but, the cumulative effect and the weight of all of them at once…and…the depression that I was trying my best to ward off, finally won. I slipped into a very dark spot. I couldn’t take it any more. There was no joy in my heart and every heartbeat actually caused me physical pain. I cried every day, often crying myself to sleep. My mind fluctuated between the twin thoughts: “God has turned his face from you” and “you are a complete and utter useless failure.” And in that darkness, I gave up. At one point I curled up on a bare mattress in a room we are renovating and pulled a blanket over myself, and wished it would be over. Please just let it be over. I felt barely alive; I could barely breath.
And it’s from here, right here, from this very palpable darkness, this having given up, and rendered useless, this barely alive and barely breathing, that I can talk about the power of the Gospel preached. Because the Gospel preached to me—repeatedly--cut through that darkness; it boldly penetrated it—unashamedly and unabashedly, it burst in and seized me. It lay hold of my weak and feeble frame, my exhausted mind, my smoldering and bruised spirit and rescued me, and, maybe even more than that, the Gospel resuscitated me, it gave me faith, it gave me life. Throughout all of the darkness and despite the lack of any tangible assurance, I still believed in God; this very God who is merciful and unyielding in His love; who, by the life of His one and only Son, through the event of the incarnation and the cross, has declared “it will not always be so.” Darkness, depression, sorrow, suffering, grief, and pain have been given their verdict: no; and I mine: yes. Every Sunday, I heard the Gospel and I could not not raise my hands in praise and worship of this God who has done this great work for me and in me. By the power of the Gospel I was made one hundred percent aware of my total and utter and desperate need for the Cross, for Jesus; by the power of the Gospel, I’ve been made truly human because, by the power of the Gospel, out of sure death came new and true life, with the robust breath of faith.
Tina’s email back in August asked people to share a testimony to what God is doing in their life. I was the first to respond to the email and was properly rewarded with picking any Friday I wanted. I thought for a moment, and surveyed my life: it was pretty bleak. So, I decided: well, I’ll pick a date well into the future, and by then, surely, things will look better. Well, here it is, December 3rd, and I still have nothing exciting to share…So, I’m still stuck looking for an answer to the question: What is God doing in my life? As I survey the historical landscape that has been my life for the past many months, I can only answer with this: I am being forced to reckon with the fact that I am human, andI am totally, utterly, and desperately needy for the Cross, for Jesus.
Let me explain:
I’m coming out of a season decked with many losses and failures, and enveloped by severe depression. In early April we lost Daniel’s Grandmother; 5 weeks later, my Grandmother; 5 days later our 9.5 week pregnancy. In June we lost our financial footing because of a van that couldn’t pass inspection. In September we lost a significant job opportunity that had given us great hope; a week after that, our other car was stolen for amusement and with the intent to destroy it. Finally, in October, I was confronted, boldly, with the reality that I was failing (and hurting, inadvertently) a dear friend and our friendship. All of this mixed in with months of struggle with my oldest son—who repeatedly hit me, threatened me (as much as a 3.5 year old can), and telling me he just flat out didn’t like me.
Losing and failing. Each one of these events that I was experiencing is normal and even tolerable; but, the cumulative effect and the weight of all of them at once…and…the depression that I was trying my best to ward off, finally won. I slipped into a very dark spot. I couldn’t take it any more. There was no joy in my heart and every heartbeat actually caused me physical pain. I cried every day, often crying myself to sleep. My mind fluctuated between the twin thoughts: “God has turned his face from you” and “you are a complete and utter useless failure.” And in that darkness, I gave up. At one point I curled up on a bare mattress in a room we are renovating and pulled a blanket over myself, and wished it would be over. Please just let it be over. I felt barely alive; I could barely breath.
And it’s from here, right here, from this very palpable darkness, this having given up, and rendered useless, this barely alive and barely breathing, that I can talk about the power of the Gospel preached. Because the Gospel preached to me—repeatedly--cut through that darkness; it boldly penetrated it—unashamedly and unabashedly, it burst in and seized me. It lay hold of my weak and feeble frame, my exhausted mind, my smoldering and bruised spirit and rescued me, and, maybe even more than that, the Gospel resuscitated me, it gave me faith, it gave me life. Throughout all of the darkness and despite the lack of any tangible assurance, I still believed in God; this very God who is merciful and unyielding in His love; who, by the life of His one and only Son, through the event of the incarnation and the cross, has declared “it will not always be so.” Darkness, depression, sorrow, suffering, grief, and pain have been given their verdict: no; and I mine: yes. Every Sunday, I heard the Gospel and I could not not raise my hands in praise and worship of this God who has done this great work for me and in me. By the power of the Gospel I was made one hundred percent aware of my total and utter and desperate need for the Cross, for Jesus; by the power of the Gospel, I’ve been made truly human because, by the power of the Gospel, out of sure death came new and true life, with the robust breath of faith.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
“Wake me up inside…” (part 6): Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Reconciliation (iv.1.58) **final**
(iv.1.58.4 cont.) In a final turn, Barth deals with the dependence of the individual on community and the community on individuals; of the Christian on the Church and the Church on the Christian. For, “there cannot be one without the other”. The Holy Spirit assembles and sustains the Church, Christianity, not as a heap of individuals functioning autonomously, but as a collective of confessing persons proclaiming the same truths each cognizant of their individual calls; this is the delicate tension between the “objective ascription” and the “subjective appropriation” of salvation. “Salvation is ascribed to the individual in the existence of the community, and it is appropriated by the community in the existence of the individuals of which is it composed”.*The work of the Holy Spirit as the basis for community of individuals mirrors the three parts of the doctrine of reconciliation. 1. By the power of the Holy Spirit, the awakening power of the Word (about the atoning work of Jesus Christ as the divine verdict) is the “historical reality of the community”. When the divine verdict is heard by persons, “in their inner fellowship and there arises in their outward assembly a new humanity within the old”. Each person, each Christian is brought into the awareness and acceptance of the divine verdict and they are brought into faith and understanding; however, it is not this that makes up a community. Rather, a community is created by the divine verdict of God, “it is not that they know God, but that they are known by God” and that these persons know and understand God in this way. In its humanity the church is like any other human institution: feeble and weak; yet under the divine verdict and sustained by the power of the
Holy Spirit it will never cease to be. 2. By the power of the Holy Spirit, the life-giving power of the Word of God (about the atoning work of Jesus Christ as the divine direction) is the “inner upbuilding of the community”. “When that direction is heard by men, these men are united in a common action, in a common action oriented by a commonly imposed obedience, and, we can and must also say, by a commonly given freedom”. By the power of the Holy Spirit, the church is lifted up, maintained, sustained, grows, and quickened; in light of the divine direction, the members live into this direction (Jesus and the Holy Spirit) and thus to be truly active and alive. 3. By the power of the Holy Spirit, the summoning power of the promise (about the atoning work of Jesus Christ as the divine promise and guarantor) is the power by which individuals are brought into community and sent out as witnesses to the world. “The Holy Spirit is the enlightening, and as the enlightening the summoning power of the divine promise, which points the community beyond itself, which calls it to transcend itself and in that way to be in the truth the community of God” as witnesses to that truth of God. The members can hope in the divine promise and the end in Jesus. By the power of the Holy Spirit, by means of this hope, the Church community is the light unto the world and its members become witnesses of this light.By the proclaimed word and verdict of God, by His divine direction, and by His guaranteed promise (by Jesus Christ and by the power of the Holy Spirit) the community is made and dealt with, and then, and only then, does God deal with the individual.
The being of the Christian indicated by [faith, love, and hope] is a being in relation. Faith lives by its object, love by its basis, hope by its surety. Jesus Christ by the Holy Spirit is this object and basis and surety. And faith and love and hope in this relation to Jesus Christ are all primarily His work, and His work first in the community of God, and only then His work in the individual Christians….We shall speak correctly of the faith and love and hope of the individual Christian only when it remains clear and constantly becomes clear that, although we are dealing with our existence, we are dealing with our existence in Jesus Christ as our true existence, that we are therefore dealing with Him and not with us, and with us only in so far as absolutely and exclusively with Him.Though individuals are called they are called into the one body of Christ. Humanity was created to be in community with each other and not in isolated parts, separated from each other.
In fact, if one recalls Barth’s doctrine of creation, specifically III.i.41, one will see that the thrust of the creation of woman is to alleviate the isolation of man, “In Gen. 218-25 the second account of the creation is brought to its climax and conclusion…it has only one theme—the completion of the creation of man by the adding to the male of the female…Everything aims at the one fact, to wit, that God did not create man alone, as a single human being, but in the unequal duality of male and female. By the creation of woman, man’s loneliness (which is not “good”) is alleviated and he is drawn up out of his self and drawn toward another outside of himself; and, further, drawn into relationship with God. Isolated man is not good. Thus, Christians, called as individuals, are brought into fellowship not only with God and themselves but into fellowship with others who, too, are under and affirm the same divine verdict, divine direction, and divine promise. The Kenyan church’s liturgy gets it completely right: “Christ is alive forever. We are because He is”.** Therefore the restatement of Descarte’s axiom above [previously] is not fully correct. Rather, it should read, “Jesus is the perfect propitiation for my sins, therefore We are therefore I am” or “He acts and declares sovereignly, therefore He is, therefore We are, therefore I am.” Our post-modern belief that we can worship God apart from a community is false. Whether we like it or not, we are created and called to be in community, and the Church is a fundamentally important place for the Christian and non-Christian alike. For the Christian it is the source of fellowship and encouragement; for the non-believer it is the beacon of hope, the proclamation of Jesus and his reconciling work through His sacrifice on the Cross, through His atonement.*This is same and contra Richard Hays’ ethical approach in his book, “The Moral Vision of the New Testament”. Hays over-emphasizes the community to the point that the individual is lost.
**Our Modern Services: Anglican Church of Kenya. Nairobi: Uzima 2008.
Last Picture taken by my friend, Josiah Miller (and used with his permission) http://www.flickr.com/photos/jomiller613/
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