Ancient Words:

Banquets and Unquestioned Answers

2012-03-09T23:23:00.005-07:00

Tonight I had the privilege of attending a banquet to support Axis: Turning Apathy into Action. Their vision is to reach teens and parents worldwide with relevant worldview issues, especially via media. Thus, I got to dress up and eat yummy food!

Check out Axis' presentations at their website: axisworldview.org.

Remember, the issue is not unanswered questions, it is unquestioned answers.

~ Johanna

The Discipline of Beauty

2012-03-03T13:36:00.003-07:00

My friend, Sarah, has the following quotation emblazoned across her blog:

We must hunger after the Beautiful and good.
~ George Eliot

If you seek Beauty and goodness, read Sarah's blog: Thoroughly Alive. You will see that your soul was impoverished, but it shall be enriched by her thoughts, both fun and reflective.

Reading some of Sarah's reflections upon Beauty, painted in a tranquil, watercolour wash, my own musings soared up to meet the stars dappling the heavens...

As I am want to ponder Beauty often, it is no surprise that it is the centre of my current thoughts.

Shall I be bold? Yes. I will assert that Beauty is a tutor, leading us to think higher thoughts. She compels us to ponder that which is above, beyond, outside of our selves. When Scripture counsels us to 'worship the LORD in the Beauty of Holiness' what is it saying? I am persuaded that the Psalmist believes Beauty is a discipline that leads us to Holiness. In fact, Beauty is the Discipler whose being delights her students, imbuing them with God's Holiness. (Alluding to Sir Philip Sidney's idea that poetry teaches [truth] by delighting.)

Sometimes it is the Beauty of nature that raises our thoughts: a snow capped mountain range, a blazing sunset, the seaside cry of gulls, savoury woodsmoke on a crisp afternoon, or the sight and scent of rich earth, freshly ploughed. Nature's Beauty kindles our inner being, imparting to us the depth and riches of God's own Beauty and creativity.

What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wilderness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

Various facets of God are glimpsed by other Beauties. A piece of music can transport our souls to the very courts of Heaven. Evensong in the gloaming settles our hearts and minds. Birdsong commences the morning with verve. A scrap of writing, or a whole book, move our very selves closer to God. Story and truth lift us out of ourselves, making us more than we were. A journey to a new country awakens our imaginations. Returning to a belovéd place rekindles joy-filled memories.

Recently I have come to delight in one particular Beauty. Rarely did I consider it when making mental lists of Beautiful things. It is the most exquisite of all Beauties, and extremely precious. It is what I have termed the Beautiful Soul. Such Beautiful Souls serve God faithfully without announcing themselves. They are eager beings. They long for more of God. They do not rush stillness and Beauty. They worship God with a depth that only sorrow and loss can cultivate. Their passions stem from an eagerness for God. The things that break their hearts are due to the Fall of man. They nourish their inner self, without neglecting the world of souls (in various states) around them. They are attended by an air of grace and humility.

Just writing about these Beautiful Souls brings joy to my heart. I have been extremely privileged to not only meet some of these persons, but they are some of my closest friends.

Blesséd, blesséd, blesséd be He!

~ Johanna

You Are My Hiding Place

2012-03-02T21:16:00.007-07:00

Some days one is so frazzled that they need more than a pot of tea to soothe their soul.

Today was one of those days. From work projects taking longer than planned, to miscommunication about work, to not sitting down until about 6.15pm (missing lunch entirely), to cancelling last minute on a friend, and bursting into tears over the phone to another friend... It was a very long day. At one point the LORD graciously reminded me that our light and transitory trials are preparing us for an eternal weight of glory. I did not deal with things admirably, but this reminder helped me to see that in light of eternity one frustrating day is fleeting.

Rather than brooding over a pot of tea this evening, I was delighted instead to have dinner with the director of our Summit Oxford Programme, Kevin Bywater. The dinner was delicious (beef tips with Swiss cheese), the conversation was excellent, and all in all, it was truly a good day. Much work was done, the LORD reminded me of this morning's Psalm (32) throughout the day, conversations were encouraging, and now I am working on that pot of tea along with some Nutella and evensong music (which I did not give up for Lent).

[LORD,] You are my hiding place;
You shall preserve me from trouble;
You shall surround me with songs of deliverance.
~ Psalm 32.7 ~

~ Johanna

In Like A Lion...

2012-02-29T22:53:00.004-07:00

Wind, wind, go away!
Far away to sea and sail,
Set your plague far at bay,
Pester others with your gale.

Wind, wind, howl no more!
On this dusty earth of red;
Find a place far from shore
Make a sail your lofty bed.

Wind, wind, O please abate!
Do not crush my little home,
Remove far from this state,
And give regard to my poem.

~ Johanna

O Frabjous Day!

2012-02-24T19:08:00.008-07:00

Happy 110th birthday to my childhood heroine, Gladys Aylward!!

I have always admired her trust in the LORD, her willingness to serve Him in spite of obstacles and everyone she knew saying 'You can't do that!', and not knowing what she was walking into when she bought her ticket for China.

Miss Aylward is also a testament that a little cleaning girl can do seemingly impossible things when she trusts God and submits herself wholly to Him. That is pretty inspiring to this cleaning girl over 100 years later.

The name 'Gladys' means 'lame or disabled' - this certainly was how many persons viewed Gladys in regards to being a missionary. They always told her she was unfit for the work she believed God had called her to do. But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak [and lame] things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty. (1 Cor. 1:27)

Thank You, Jesus, for Gladys Aylward and her obedience and submission to You.

~ Johanna

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

2012-02-22T14:25:00.011-07:00

Like thousands of Christians worldwide, I rose early to repeat the Confession, the Kyrie Eleison, and the Agnus Dei. Participants in the service went to the altar rail for the 'imposition of ashes' to "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

In Scripture we see over and again that when a person, or group of persons, sought repentance they would don sackcloth and cover themselves with dust and ashes. Fasting for a period of time often accompanied the season of repentance. It is fitting that we recall to mind that true forgiveness comes not because of outward forms, but from the Son of God

O Lamb of God, You take away the sin of the world.
Have mercy on us.
O Lamb of God, You take away the sin of the world.
Have mercy on us.
O Lamb of God, You take away the sin of the world.
Grant us peace.

It is not ashes or our own penitence which save us, it is only the blood of the Lamb of God that purifies us. Thus, the liturgy ended with the Lord's Supper.

Though we may be made of dust, our eternal spirit will live on. Though our flesh returns to dirt, our souls cannot. Lord have mercy upon us. Christ have mercy upon us. Lord have mercy upon us.

Life is real!  Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

*Post Script* If you have had trouble commenting on my blog (as I have with many blogger sites recently), I have changed my commenting to a pop-up option. Comments are always appreciated!

~ Johanna

Buried Heart

2012-02-20T10:37:00.004-07:00

Here lies the heart of me
Buried with an unmarked gravestone
No name, just the dates it lived and died
Now I want it back

Always finding but never seeing the way
Teach me how not to be afraid
(Teach me to love again, to love again, once again)

Take me down and let me see
The well that’s full of bravery
And baptise me so I’ll be free
To do the things I fear

~ The Well and the Gravestone, by The Vespers

So many of The Vespers's lyrics have arrested my heart this past week. From sweet love songs, to exploring the depths of life and death, and various relationships there has been much to ponder. I could write full posts on at least half of the songs on the album 'Tell Your Mama'.

How about you? Have you ever felt like your heart is dead and buried? Have you ever wondered if you will ever feel again, or love again? Have you ever pleaded with God to restore the years the locusts have eaten? Do you ever find yourself wishing you could feel something, even pain?

If you answered 'yes' to any of the above questions, then it is possible that you, too, have entombed your heart beneath an anonymous stone slab.

I have no easy answers about the resurrection of a buried heart. In fact, I have no answers at all. What I do know is that in the last weeks I have been given the gift of feeling joy, and pain in the face of others's losses. For quite some time I have prayed that God would teach my heart how to feel, how to love and be loved (firstly by Him, as well as others). He is gracious to answer, even though the process is slow.

Perhaps I am at fault in the snail's pace of the healing process. One has to hold still under the Surgeon's scalpel for Him to be able to work - and I wiggle a lot. O God, help me to be still!

How I wish I had more well-formed thoughts on this topic, but I am still being resurrected.

I remain under the Mercy,
~ Johanna

The Apple of His Eye...

2012-02-17T12:50:00.006-07:00

Friday began for me last night (a rather Hebraic way of beginning days) when I braided my shower-wet hair before bed.

I woke up (looking like this - yikes!) to hazy golden sunlight pouring in my window.

I read this morning's Psalm (seventeen) and was rather delighted with the final verse: "As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness."

This comes after David cries out for God's comfort and protection from his enemies. He laments that the wicked seem to prosper and he begs for God to discontinue their success. The vile are blessed with children and riches, but David says he will be satisfied to behold God's face, to have God's presence turned toward him.

The final verse correlates with the previous idea from verses 7-9: "Show Thy marvellous kindness, O Thou that savest by Thy right hand them which put their trust in Thee from those that rise up against them.

Keep me as the apple of Thy eye, hide me under the shadow of Thy wings, From the wicked that oppress me, from my deadly enemies, who compass me about."

David asks God to keep him as the apple of His eye. An intriguing request, because the Hebrew phrase means 'little man of the eye', or the reflection one sees of themselves in the pupil of another's eye. David is asking that God would see Himself in David.

We want to be loved for who we are, but we also want to be made more like Christ. It is a strange paradox that in becoming more like Christ Himself, we become more fully human, able to be most fully our 'selves' that God made us. God looks at us and sees a tiny reflection of Himself in us.

When God shines the light of His countenance upon us, it is like Moses seeing the trail of God's glory on Mount Sinai. Just seeing the remnants of God's glory made the face of Moses radiant. No man can look upon God's face and live, yet God can shine the light of His countenance (meaning both the glory of His face, and His good favour) upon us. When He does, our faces are radiant with the light of His joy, hope, and glory.

No wonder David is satisfied at the end with God's 'likeness'. It is not the same word or idea as God's face or countenance, but it is the idea of seeing God's image, or a reminder of His presence.

Does your face shine with the glory of God? Does your very visage illuminate those around you because you have been in the presence of God? Are you the apple of God's eye?

~ Johanna

True Love is Costly

2012-02-14T10:19:00.005-07:00

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.
In this the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him.In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.
Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.

~ 1 John 4.7-11 ~

We have a God whom it cost the very life of His Son to ransom us. His love is deep. His love is costly. His love 'labours to make us loveable', as C. S. Lewis once wrote. His love will not let us go, even when we let go of Him. His love often feels like death.

And who are we? We are the love-hungry little cats at the feet of the Maker, pawing at His ankles. Yet He looks down upon us. He shines the light of His face toward us.

He loves us with a costly, inexorable, jealous love. Hallelujah!

~ Johanna

What your life says about what you worship...

2012-02-10T13:35:00.009-07:00

Imagine, crowds pressed into an amphitheatre watching with disgusting eagerness a man being ripped apart, limb from body, by wild horses. Smell the stench of the sweat and excitement of those around you. Breathe in the terror and agony of the man in the ring. Feel your heartbeat accelerate at the squeals of the horses being driven mad in order to torture a human.

Now, smell the sweat and excitement of another crowd. Listen to the roar of those around you. See the wild colours, vulgar gestures, grimacing faces (both in the crowd and in the ring) raging about you. Where are you this time? In an amphitheatre filled with thousands upon thousands of persons, yes. Unimaginably huge monitors flash replays. The smell of beer and sweat hang in the air - your favourite sports team has just taken the field in the second half of their game.

In the gladiatorial theatre those in the crowd worshipped the emperor, but they also exalted violence and entertainment.

In our current culture many persons give lip-service to God, but in their hearts they worship something else.

My question to you is, what does your life show that you worship?

You probably know (or are) someone like my neighbour. She has a Colts jersey, hat, and autographed card from Peyton Manning. She sports a Colts flag and tire cover on her porch and vehicle. Sundays after church you can find her watching the big game. Everyone who knows her knows that she is a Colts fan.*

Maybe you hate sports... But perhaps you cannot stand being single. You are always hoping that you will meet someone to spend the rest of your life with. You want to raise a family with them and grow old together. Or you may have met that special person and now you have children. Are your children the apple of your eye? Does their love, approval, happiness, or success mean more to you than anything else?

Are you like me, reading [somewhat less than] copious amounts of books, articles, and essays? Does your conversation focus on philosophy or historical figures and writers? Do you value a reader, an 'intellectual', over someone who watches liberal amounts of television?

Maybe you spend much of your time at work, working out, cooking organic meals, eating fast food, trying to follow rules, living a raucous party life, trying to look young, or one of a myriad of other things.

What do your habits say about what you worship?

When someone walks into your home or room, what will they see that you value? What do most of your conversations focus around? How do you spend most of your hours each day? What do you think about when you do not have to focus on something in particular?

For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ:whose end is destruction, whose god is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame—who set their mind on earthly things.
~ Philippians 3.18-19

What is your functional saviour? You might know that no one and no thing but Jesus can save you from the end result of sin (death). But what are you setting your mind upon? Where is your focus? What is that one thing more that if you had it you would be happy? What is something that if it were taken from you, you would want to cease living? Is it your job, your house, romance, marriage, children, parents, your physique, your country, your talent (singing, writing, athletic ability, etc.), sports, a person, or something else?

Paul finishes out his thought in Philippians thus, "For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself."

Are you willing for Jesus to subdue even you to Himself? Are you eager to spend time with Jesus? Do persons you talk with know by your actions alone that you are a Christian? What does your prayer life look like in God's eyes? Do your thoughts go naturally to Scripture or praise? Does knowing that it cost God the very lifeblood of His Son to make you His child overwhelm you, or does it bore you?

I am not saying that I am always eager to spend time in prayer, praise, or Scripture. However, I want to be eager to know God more deeply. I want to see God's holiness. I am willing to know God through suffering and sorrow. I want to practise loving others like Jesus loves me... Even though it costs, and even though it hurts, and even if it is not returned. And I am scared to death that the LORD will actually take me up on teaching me to be more like Him in these ways. But I am willing.

If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God. Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.When Christ who is our life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.
~ Colossians 3.1-4

For a more in-depth look at the idols of our hearts and how to shift our focus, listen to Tim Keller here.

~ Johanna

*My neighbour, mentioned above, is also a Christian... I am not bashing her love for her team, nor sports as sports. I was merely showing that even a good thing (even morality) can become an idol if not submitted to Christ.

The True Labour of Love

2012-02-08T20:11:00.008-07:00

"To ask that God's love should be content with us as we are is to ask that God should cease to be God: because He is what He is, His love must, in the nature of things, be impeded and repelled by certain stains in our present character, and because He already loves us He must labour to make us lovable."

~ C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

One thing I have desired this year is to gain a greater capacity to receive God's love. In turn, I want my love for God and others to increase.

Sometimes I forget that love is not simply a good feeling toward someone, it is giving a cup of water to a stranger; feeding or clothing my enemy; spending time with that person that no one else wants to hang out with; or looking the homeless in the eye and acknowledging their humanity.

Yet love is more. It is the willingness to tell my friends when they are wrong, or where they need to grow. At other times is it love that I hold my tongue from sarcasm or a witty remark at another's expense. And there are times when it is love to simply cry with a friend, or to laugh at their ludicrous antics.

The hard part of love is that I see what my acquaintance, friend, or family member could be, and I desire to challenge them to become better. Often this is a slow process, or downright exasperating when I lack the courage to tell them a fault I see. Yet it is because I see what they could be that I am able to speak the truth to them. It is because God cannot tolerate the stains in my character that I can show love to others. It is a severe mercy to love others thus. Yet it is love's nature to call out the best, the excellent, in another.

"Open rebuke is better than love carefully concealed. Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful."
~ Proverbs 27:5-6

O that I would love others more! And O that I would love You more, Lord Jesus! O Love that will not let me go, teach me more of the depth, breadth, and height of Your love.

~ Johanna

Twenty-Six Memories

2012-01-27T07:42:00.016-07:00

Today is my golden birthday.

At 7.19pm EST I will officially be twenty-seven on 27 January 2012.

I thought it would be fun to look back at twenty-six memories from my life. My memory is not sharp enough to remember the exact chronology, but I will begin with the older things and work my way forward... There may be photos if you are diligent to read to the end. :)

1) Family vacation to Colorado (Estes Park, Mesa Verde), Four Corners, and the Grand Canyon. I lost my blanket on that trip, which was pretty sad, but the trip itself was good (minus the cantaloupe).

2) I was maybe 3 when I remember playing and singing on our front deck and asking Jesus to "come into my heart and never come out".

3) Hannibal, Missouri - Samuel Clemens home -and- Herman, Missouri - winery visit. I mostly remember this from a family photo, but I do remember the winery, it was cool to see the wine barrels, and the playground "dirt" was made of shaved corks.

4) I was a sheep in the Christmas play at one of the many churches we attended when I was young. Yeah, sheep don't get lines. (And I doubt that sheep are redheaded, either.)

5) When I was 7 I learned how to ride a two wheel bicycle (thanks to my older sister, Megan). I also met our new neighbours that day... Brittany and Jessica were my best friends growing up! We played settlers, office, sailors, clowns, detectives, and every other imaginable game we could think of. We also washed cars, sold vegetables, sold whatever Jessica had to sell for her choir group, etc. Yay for enterprise and pocket cash! (Okay, mine went to the bank... So I could pay my taxes. Yes, I thought that way when I was a kid.)

6) AWANA - I liked Sparks the best as an attendee, but Jr. High the most when I was a leader-in-training. Probably because my dad was the teacher and we talked about real stuff.

7) Summer Bible School at Walnut Grove Chapel. Two weeks every summer of memorising chapters of Scripture, catechisms, and daily verses. Plus songs, games, and new friends. How could you go wrong there?

8) Art lessons from a variety of teachers, though Mrs. Oberting and Mrs. Adams were my favourites.

9) Waking up on Christmas morning to a BLUE bicycle! I don't even know if I got other presents that year, but I didn't care. And for some reason, I really remember that Sarah got an Acapella tape that same Christmas.

10) This one is in bold because it is perhaps the highlight of my entire childhood, and even now is one of my favourite things: Reading stories with Dad. My earliest memory of reading with Dad is of him reading the Bible to us after dinner each night. Dad would also read bed-time stories to me and my sisters most nights. I remember reading all of the Narnia books, To Kill a Mockingbird, Ivanhoe, Puddinhead Wilson, The Prince and the Pauper, Penrod, Penrod and Sam, Seventeen, several Louis L'Amour westerns, Waking the Dead, Farmer Boy, Fairy tales, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and Tidings of Comfort and Joy (which Dad and I re-read this past Christmas when I was home). I know we read other books, and we re-read Narnia all the time. Plus, Dad is the best story-teller for Jack and the Beanstalk bar none.

11) Not to be left out, I did also read with my Mom for school. We read the Little House on the Prairie books, Otto of the Silver Hand, and other fiction books that went with what we were studying. But mostly, I am thankful for my Mom reading a Psalm or Proverb with me and my sisters every morning and praying with us. This has to be a big part of helping to establish a daily quiet time in my life.

12) Working to clean Redbrush Camp and turn it into InPursuit, a SpringHill camp (I never officially worked for SpringHill, however). Taught me a lot about how much I complain, and was the place where I began to desire to make my faith my own, not just my parents' beliefs.

13) Spanish and art class with a bunch of homeschool friends... I actually do not remember much about either class - what I gained most from those semesters were my two best friends in high school: Britt and Beka. Britt is still my best friend to this day and I am so thankful for her continued friendship, even though I am not always good about keeping up with her. We have gone from talking about bands and boys and God, to talking about school, work, heartache, God's faithfulness and goodness in spite of our circumstances, and life habits. Similar topics, but there is much more depth now!

14) Homeschool National Conventions: These experiences from 2001-2007 gave me the chance to travel, make lots of awesome friends, helped me to begin to think and reason more, and inspired me to learn about new things (like photography, debate, government, etc.)

15) TeenPact: I learned a whole lot about state government, living with other people, leading other people, how to present myself better, and ultimate frisbee. I began to gain more confidence after becoming filed staff for two Indiana classes in 2005. Oh, and TeenPact GA is where I first drove on the Interstate - unbeknownst to anyone who was in the car with me. I grew up a lot because of my time around TeenPact events and people.

16) Homeschool state conferences helped me take responsibility and learn to converse well with adults (well, to converse more with them - I have always enjoyed talking with 'grown-ups' who were cool).

17) Summer 2003: I graduated high school, read Lord of the Rings for the first time, my grandfather passed away, and my parents drove me out to Colorado to attend a two-week worldview class called Summit. This was indeed a life-changing year.

18) Working at Summit on Summer staff 2005-2010: I learned a lot about acting my age, leading a small group, Creation, Fall, Redemption, family/marriage, loving people - even when they are hard to love, books, various theological topics, taking responsibility, trying new things, and much more. I specifically remember 'The Upstairs Girls' (Lexy, Savannah, and Jessi) from 2007 who restored the idea of being friends with girls in my head and heart. I am forever grateful to God for that summer and fall.

Furthermore, I have made my closest friends at Summit (ahem - Sarah Beth Vosburg! Reese! Chels! Kasey! Andréa! Noelle! And many, many more of you wonderful folks - so many I shouldn't even try to list you!) and have been challenged, encouraged, strengthened, and loved in a way I didn't know was possible.

19) Summit Semester 2006 and 2007: I learned a lot in class in 2006, but the 2007 S2 class will always be my family. Even though I was on staff I learned much in and out of class, made a lot of mistakes, was given a lot of grace, deepened my understanding of a good life, love, death, and more through poetry, stories, and real life community.

20) In 2009 I worked two jobs at once (a first for me), one of which was at a public school, the other was a cleaning job. I learned a LOT about loving other people where they are, speaking the truth when it was hard, and loving kiddos.

21) 2009 was a big year: My grandmother passed away in January, and I moved to Colorado that autumn. I cannot express how glorious it is to have my own home!

22) November 2010 will always be memorable for me. The week of awesomeness started with finding a lovely hardcover set of Lord of the Rings for $9 at the the Thrift Store. It progressed to a good conversation with Kevin Bywater about Summit Oxford, and then the unbelievable happened: I was offered a chance to go to Oxford by an anonymous donor (my eternal thanks to you, friend!). Within 4 days I had gone from normal life to receiving funding, applying, getting my lack of college credit waived, getting references from two Semester professors, and getting an acceptance e-mail. Soli Deo Gloria!

23) Everything about Oxford: walking to tutorials - and the library, Tesco, church, evensong, the open market, through historic passageways and up bell towers - and really anywhere else I need to go. Riding the bus to Kevin's and class there. My flatmates, hallmates, and the Summit gals downstairs. My friends at the kebab stand. The C. S. Lewis Society and walks home with Jake.

Tea and Cranford with Kasey. Watching films, wearing scarves (on one's head), working out, and ridiculous antics with Andréa, Kasey, and sometimes even Jacqueline. Group dinners. Chelsea visiting over my birthday. Trips to London and Cambridge with the OSAP group. My favourite trip: Portsmouth and Master and Commander afterwards. Walking around Magdalen College and Addison's Walk. The New College Cloisters.

Hours spent researching and writing in the library. The book exposition in the spring. Visit to the Kilns (Lewis's home) when my sister came to England. My parents visiting! Walks through Port Meadow and around Oxford at night with the Summit girls.

24) Baptism, Confirmation, and first Anglican Communion: 10 April, 2012 - St. Mary Magdalene's Church, Oxford, England.

25) Getting my writing published on the Summit Blog; getting good marks from my tutors; and learning a lot about Islam that I never knew before (both from reading, and first hand from my Muslim friends).

26) My birthday morning in Oxford last year: sleeping in and a surprise breakfast with all of the Summit girls. They made crepes with fresh fruit (blueberries, strawberries, pomegranate, and bananas), and even had Nutella, and of course, a bunch of tea. They also gave me my Eynsham mug, which I drink from almost every day.

The afternoon was also wonderful, with tea at The Rose on High Street. Everyone came and Rose and Jordan even paid for my tea and scones. It was a wonderful day!

Those are my 26 memories - if I had been extremely clever I would have started each with a successive letter of the alphabet. But I am not extremely clever. I am just an ordinary girl who has been blessed with extra-ordinary blessings all of my life. I am thankful for God's goodness in all things, and His magnificent kindness to me.

Truly, 'The LORD has done GREAT things for us, and we are filled with JOY!'

~ Johanna

Post Script: I would be remiss if I didn't say that my sister Sarah's wedding and the birth of my Nephew (JJ) were also life altering events. :)

Sword, Arrow, Warrior

2012-01-22T17:10:00.006-07:00

'War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend...'

~ Faramir in The Two Towers, by J. R. R. Tolkien

Recently I discussed pacifism with one of my dear friends. We skirted the issue a good bit due to our diametrically opposite views on the matter. When I heard the above lines spoken by one of my favourite Lord of the Rings characters, it gave me pause. Tolkien said eloquently and briefly the heart of why I am thankful for our military warriors. It is what they defend that I love, not the warfare that is used. Yet without the weapons of warfare our country, our freedom, and our lives would belong not to us, but to someone else.

My deepest thanks and appreciation to our military - past and present... and those to come. And my gratitude to Tolkien for penning this gem.

~ Johanna

And We Are Filled With Joy!

2012-01-19T22:31:00.009-07:00

The LORD has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.
~ Psalm 126:3

It's be one of those kinds of days... It is my dear friend Carrie's birthday today - knowing her fills me with joy. Then the day progressed with a new Two Towers chapter by Phil, hiking Red Mountain with friends, dinner and tea at my house, good conversations, and life simply lived. Thank You, Jesus!

~ Johanna

Love is Stronger Than Death

2012-01-15T22:55:00.003-07:00

How does love construct a self that is stronger than death? It constructs my I, not my me; my subject self, not my object self, who I am, not what I am.

What I am is determined by my heredity and environment; my without is determined from without. This is not stronger than death. But who I am is determined by my free choices to love or not to love; my within is determined from within.

This inner self, or who, is not of a given size, like the body, but is elastic. I am as much as I find my identity in, or identify with, or care about, or love. I am not a little ego imprisoned in a bag of skin; I am as big as my love. By my love I construct the self that is stronger than death.

~ Peter Kreeft, Love is Stronger Than Death (pp 42-43)

Do you agree or disagree with Kreeft?

Surely there is a difference between who we are and what we are. Does love construct the 'who' we are? If so, is it our own love, as Kreeft says, or another's love? Is it human love or divine love that gives us our identity, our strength over death?

I will post my further thoughts in the upcoming days, but I am curious to know your thoughts, dear Reader.

~ Johanna

I Will Lift My Eyes...

2012-01-11T17:16:00.008-07:00

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the LORD,
Who made heaven and earth.

He will not allow your foot to be moved;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep.

~ Psalm 121:1-4 ~

Morning Light: Double Exposure

2012-01-11T11:06:00.013-07:00

~ ~ ~

~ Johanna

Morning Light

2012-01-11T11:03:00.005-07:00

Good morning, Sunshine!

Nunc Dimittis: Simeon's Prayer

2012-01-09T07:24:00.005-07:00

LORD, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace according to Thy word. For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, Which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people; To be a light to lighten the Gentiles and to be the glory of Thy people Israel.

Glory be to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end - amen.

The mystery is revealed before St. Paul pens it. The shocking offer is given before the Messiah can even speak. Simeon declares that the Christ child is God's salvation to all people. He will be a light to lighten even the darkness of the Gentiles. This is a stunning announcement to the Jews, God's 'chosen people' throughout the Old Testament.

Yet, looking back to Genesis 12 one sees this promise given to Abraham: "And I will make of you a great nation [Israel], and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonours you I will curse, and in you all the families [nations] of the earth shall be blessed." (vv 2-3, ESV UK, Crossway)

The Messiah who comes through Abraham's seed is so great that He will not only redeem His people, Israel, but He will gather all nations to Himself. He shines His light in the darkness and it must flee.

I find this proclamation of Simeon's to be an overwhelming kindness from God. The Jews do not deserve to be God's specially chosen people. The rest of the world (the Gentiles) certainly do not deserve the offer of salvation. In fact, no one does. It is remarkable - no, sensational - that God would offer salvation to anyone. We all like sheep have gone astray, says Isaiah, each of us has turned to his own way. There is none who does righteous, declares Paul. Even our motives behind doing good are often (perhaps always) tainted.

Even so, God the Father chooses to love those who spit in His face, who stomp on His grace, He loves us enough to send His Son to 'wear man's smudge and shares man's smell' and take the punishment that we deserve. By His wounds we are healed, cries Isaiah. And so we are. Yes, even we Gentiles who sat in darkness have seen a Great Light.

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

~ God's Grandeur, Gerard Manley Hopkins

~ Johanna

New Year: Discipleship At Any Cost

2012-01-01T21:36:00.008-07:00

Lord, I give up all my own plans and purposes, all my own desires and hopes, and accept Thy will for my life. I give myself, my life, my all utterly to Thee, to be Thine forever. Fill me and seal me with Thy Holy Spirit. Use me as Thou wilt. Send me where Thou wilt, and work out Thy whole will in my life at any cost, now and forever.
~ Betty Scott Stam

Last year on this day I arrived in Heathrow International Airport, London, England. I met two of my very best friends. I saw the lights of London from an aeroplane. I caught my first brief glimpse of Oxford. I rode in a bus and a minivan on the left side of the road. I made my first trip to Sainsbury's. In short, I commenced four of the most stretching, rewarding, challenging, gruelling, wonderful, and inspiring months of my life.

This year I look forward into a mist of uncertainty. I have a few goals regarding classes and a job that I would like to apply for. There is the ever growing list of books that I want to tackle. Much Scripture that I want to read broadly then study in-depth awaits my eager eyes and heart.

There is no England, no promise of 6 or 8 hour days in the library, or the gloaming hour reverently passed in evensong. This year, if growth will come it must be at the tutelage of the Holy Spirit, my own bank account, books at my fingertips, good conversations, asking better questions, and perseverance in daily study. If I seek a deeper relationship with God then I must be willing to invest more hours in prayer, seek good commentaries, and read, read, and re-read Scripture. I must be willing to let God change my selfish, arrogant, wretched self into a woman clothed in humility, authority, strength, and holiness.

Already I feel the tug between my flesh and the Spirit. So far the flesh is winning the battle... But I know and am confident that the Spirit will win the war. It is a matter of seeking His strength daily and saying 'no' to the temptations of sloth, gossip, idleness, anger, lust, pride, and smug self-righteousness. Discipline is about to become a word I cannot ignore or set aside. Indeed, Discipline and Surrender are about to become my closest companions.

Father God, I submit to You 2012. It is Yours, and so am I. Rid me of myself. Cause me to decrease, that You may increase. Teach me holiness and love as I have never known them. Let me know You. Let me see even the train of Your glory, that I may understand how great You are. Let me see more and more of YOU.

May I, too, pray with sincerity: Fill me and seal me with Thy Holy Spirit. Use me as Thou wilt. Send me where Thou wilt, and work out Thy whole will in my life at any cost, now and forever.

~ Johanna

The Silent Majority

2011-12-27T11:58:00.021-07:00

I seek, like Thoreau, to ‘read not the Times; read the eternities.’ If this sounds snobbish, it shouldn’t; it is the opposite of snobbery. The merely avant-garde thinker is the real snob.

The object of his snobbery is not the living but the dead, the great ‘silent majority’ of pre-contemporary thinkers who are disenfranchised not by accident of birth but by accident of death.

~ Peter Kreeft, Love is Stronger Than Death (Introduction)

Recently my father and I discussed the qualities of postmodernism afflicting our generation and infecting our churches. The more I interact with Christians who have not been exposed to great literature, past philosophers (both Christians and atheists), and an historical context for Scripture, the more I see a gaping disconnect between their beliefs and their lifestyle.

I am shamefully aware of the reason the media labels Christians as uneducated. A whole subset of persons believe that 'Christian fiction' and films like 'Facing the Giants' or 'Fireproof' are real art, and 'safe' to absorb. I am more terrified to hear that a person's most influential book list includes The Purpose Driven Life, The Left Behind series, 'Christian' romance novels, and the like than if it included Nietzsche, Thoreau, Hemingway, or Wilde. At least the latter authors wrote about the great questions of life, death, and existence and did not give pat[hetic] answers.

Many Christians view life, and its ultimate questions, in bits and pieces. This is echoed in the poor writing, mediocre art, and empty answers given under the guise of 'Christian' psychology. Fragmented thinking stems from lack of discipline and the aforementioned postmodern mindset that has driven both the world and the church mad. There is a popular belief that this generation is the first of its kind. Thus, history is not too important, and dead white European males are hardly worth listening to. How would one of those know what this generation faces? Yet 'this generation' does not know what the elementary diagnostic questions are, let alone how to answer them.

Perhaps I should lay out some of these questions: What is a good life? What is the meaning and purpose of life? What is a good death? What good is death? Why do I exist? What is a human being? What is love? What is a good love? Is there a God, and is He good? Are we alone, drifting through a meaningless, void universe? Is matter all there is?

In our world of ceaseless noise and unending images, we rarely even go to sleep or drive in silence. If one takes long walks, they are spent talking on the phone or listening to an iPod, rather than in silent reflection. Without solitude and reflection on what God is saying through His Spirit, Scripture, literature, philosophy, and wise men, one splinters under the pressure of outside confusion and noise. When would one have time to ask the above questions? When would they have the mental silence to think through even one of those questions, or to seek its answer?

There is another set of questions that I have not yet raised. Questions every member of humanity ought to ask, but especially those in the Church. Queries like, "How did our forefathers face such-and-such moral dilemma?" or "What has been previously written on this subject?" What did Erasmus, Cranmer, Luther, Kirkegaard, Kant, and Lewis write on issues of when or if there is ever a time when lying is acceptable, or of love, death, or the meaning of life? The current era is not the first generation of Christians. Thus, it is wise to gain knowledge from (and pursue it further than) our Godly ancestors.

The Church has stepped away from the Silent Majority, those who penned timeless truth in the creeds and confession. The Church no longer repeats daily the Lord's Prayer, nunc dimittis, te deum laudamus, or magnificat. Yet this goes directly against Scripture, where God constantly tells the people to remember the things past, or to do something (a feast or festival) as a memorial. A 'memorial' means partaking in the feast or fast to remember God's work on one's behalf. Why celebrate things like Christmas (the Incarnation) or Easter (the Resurrection) if one is not centred on the event commemorated? In like manner, why set aside the prayer book and the likes of Erasmus and Cranmer, for the pabulum of far too many evangelical sermons?

The Church ought to look like Christ, not every wind of doctrine breathed out by the world. The Church ought not copy slogans, chant cute-but-trite sayings, or make facsimiles of popular culture icons to share the already compelling message of the Incarnation, the good life, a good love, the purpose of death, or the Resurrection.

The Church ought to have the best writers, film-makers, artists, businessmen, congressmen, mail carriers, clerks, rubbish collectors, historians, professors, mothers, fathers, etcetera, that the world has ever seen. Those in the Church ought to be well-educated, reasonable, logical, well-read, teachable, humble, wise, and honest. They ought to be the farmer-statesman - unafraid to till the soil, yet able to speak intelligently upon a host of worthy subjects from philosophy and history, to the arts and politics. Above all, the Church must not forget that many wise voices still speak from the past, and that she must leave a wise and prudent voice (and world) to those who are yet to come.

Tradition means giving votes to the most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about.

All democrats object to men being disqualified by the accident of birth; tradition objects to their being disqualified by the accident of death. Democracy tells us not to neglect a good man's opinion, even if he is our groom; tradition asks us not to neglect a good man's opinion, even if he is our father.

I, at any rate, cannot separate the two ideas of democracy and tradition; it seems evident to me that they are the same idea. We will have the dead at our councils. The ancient Greeks voted by stones; these shall vote by tombstones. It is all quite regular and official, for most tombstones, like most ballot papers, are marked with a cross.

~ G. K. Chesterton; Orthodoxy, 'The Ethics of Elfland' (pg 48)

~ Johanna

A Light Has Dawned

2011-12-22T08:25:00.007-07:00

Great literature is full of contrasting themes: good and evil, truth and lies, light and dark, hope and despair - and the list continues. There is no exception in the story of the Incarnation. It is the moment of turning in The Great Story of Scripture, in all of history no less.

Themes of creation, fall, and redemption weave throughout Scripture. Themes of sin, repentance, a remnant, and renewal pervade the Old Testament and carry on through the New. Look at the first contrast in Genesis, see that God made the light and separated it from the darkness. Light and dark become themes through the rest of Scripture.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend [overcome] it. ~ John 1:1-5

This Light was prophesied hundreds of years prior to John penning these words (words that echo the creation in Genesis 1). Isaiah also spoke of the division of light and dark:

The people who walked in darkness
Have seen a great light;
Those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death,
Upon them a light has shined.
(Isaiah 9:2)

Little did Isaiah know that the Messianic prophecy would be met in baby born under Roman rule several hundred years later. However, Zacharias knew the prophet's words. They reverberate in his song in Luke chapter one:

“And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Highest;
For you will go before the face of the Lord to prepare His ways,
To give knowledge of salvation to His people
By the remission of their sins,
Through the tender mercy of our God,
With which the Dayspring from on high has visited us;
To give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the way of peace.”
(Luke 1:76-79)

Who is this Light that Isaiah, John, and Luke cannot cease describing? Why, He is the theme of the Story. He is the Light from on High that enters into a world thrust into darkness by pride, grasping, and sinful desires. He is Emmanuel, God with us.

For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of His government and peace
There will be no end,
Upon the throne of David and over His kingdom,
To order it and establish it with judgement and justice
From that time forward, even forever.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.

(Isaiah 9:6-7)

Merry Christmas!

~ Johanna

Chanukkah: Festival of Lights

2011-12-20T18:00:00.001-07:00

When I went to Oxford and studied the Old Testament under Kevin Bywater, I realised that I needed to learn the Hebrew language and Jewish culture in order to understand the Bible better. Another desire to learn Hebrew arose from watching the Maccabeats perform their [much better] rendition/parody of 'Dynamite', called 'Candlelight'.

Seeing the above video piqued my interest in Jewish culture and history. Since my return from England I have taken a very basic crash course in Hebrew, learning the aleph bet. In the Spring I have the opportunity to take a Jewish history/culture class. And since I didn't know much about Chanukkah (aside from the above video), I looked up the history HERE. It is neat to understand other cultures, their holidays, why certain things are sacred or important, and so forth.

Happy Chanukkah!

~ Johanna

What Child is This?

2011-12-17T01:30:00.005-07:00

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and lamb are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.

Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you,
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

'What Child is This?' is one of my favourite Christmas carols, particularly because of this verse. When I was younger I didn't know or understand the following phrase very well: 'Good Christians, fear, for sinners here the silent Word is pleading.'

The Word, The One who spoke the world into existence, is mute (save for crying and cooing) in the arms of His very own creation. Yet God becomes a speechless baby, pleading for the salvation and redemption of mankind. Truly, the Incarnation is one of two miracles that always astounds and arrests my attention (the other being the resurrection).

'Hail, hail the Word made flesh, the Babe, the Son of Mary.'

A blessed Advent season to you, dear friends and readers!

~ Johanna

Day of Infamy

2011-12-07T12:48:00.003-07:00

"Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan... No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people will through their righteous might win through to absolute victory... With confidence in our armed forces-with the unbounded determination of our people-we will gain the inevitable triumph-so help us God. I, therefore, ask that the Congress declare that since the dastardly and unprovoked attack by Japan on Sunday, December seventh, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire."

~ President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Dec. 8, 1941

Thank you to those of you serving in the armed forces, and to those who have come before us and paid the ultimate price for our freedom. And thanks be to God, without His aide we never could have won WWII.

~ Johanna

This is Home

2011-11-28T02:20:00.000-07:00

“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. "
~ The Last Battle: C. S. Lewis

Every day this exclamation rings true in my heart, but some days it pierces me more acutely. There are the days when I believe the lies that I am not as cool as my friends, or that I am not intelligent enough. There are days that I feel less than average in my appearance. There are days when I feel like my friends underestimate (or ignore) my knowledge and skills... And days when I, too, believe that I am ignorant and useless. Days like these make me long for another world where being in the presence of The Superlative to every good thing does not make me feel worthless, rather it invigorates me to be more like Him.

The other time Lewis's phrase burns in my heart is when I look into the ashen embers of the eyes of Death. Whether someone I know dies, or the family member of a friend passes away, it makes me weep. I do not lament because there is no hope, rather because Death is not what we were created for. We were made to live, and Death mocks the very order of our creation. However, Death can only quench our life because we let him in through sin, and sin begets death.

"But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed. Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death."
~ James 1:14-15 (NKJV)

Death. It is an ugly word, worse yet, a hideous reality. One day Death itself will be turned on its head and what seemed such a certain reality will melt away. Death will be swallowed up in the Life of Christ Jesus the Lord. At least, that is the hope of those who believe on Christ Jesus for salvation from their wanton desires (those that lead to sin and death, as stated above). Being fully alive is also the hope of those whose desires cannot be satisfied by all that this world has to offer.

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”
~ C. S. Lewis

Have you been looking all your life for another world? You were certainly made for another... And there lies real hope {confident expectation}. We must live here and now because this is where God has placed us. But we live here and now in the hope {expectation} that Redemption has happened, is happening, and that it will be fulfilled more deeply and richly than we could fathom or dare to dream in the world to come.

"...for them it was only the beginning of the real story. And all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: and now they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has ever read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before."

~ The Last Battle: C. S. Lewis

When we finally discover that there is a real country, a home that we never knew existed but still somehow always believed in, then every chapter really will be better than the one before. Worthless feelings, lies, and Death will all be vanquished by the King of Glory, the LORD strong and mighty. 'Blessed, blessed, blessed be He!'

~ Johanna

2011-11-21T10:55:00.008-07:00

"Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, that without distance closeness cannot cure."
~ Henri J.M. Nouwen

Without the depths of the Valley of Loss, the Heights of Joy are not quite as invigorating as they could be. Without making room for stillness even the sound of a symphony becomes a cacophony blotting out clear thoughts.

Are we willing to walk through the Valley of the Shadow in order to know joy more fully? Do we practise silence by turning off the car stereo, or going for long walks without headphones or a cell phone? Do we thank God for the physical distance between us and our loved ones? Without that space the sweetness and gladness of seeing a long-missed friend or family member is dulled, sometimes into contempt. Do we welcome Sorrow, Suffering, and Grief as tutors to bring us to Joy and Hope and Revival?

Often paradoxes like these arrive in our lives; at first we see only trial, hurt, and brokenness. However, if we allow hard things to be our schoolmasters, we may learn from them and be strengthened by them. This often requires altering the paradigm of our perspective. Sometimes this change can be done manually, but other times it is only by asking God to open our eyes to His perspective that we can see redemption in hurtful and hard things.

"...pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."
~ C.S. Lewis

Pain, Sorrow, and Suffering are not God's optimum way of obtaining our attention; yet He uses even these things for our good. He refines us, shapes us through hard things. We find indeed that hardships, distances, silence*, and ugliness help us to appreciate the Good, True, and Beautiful.

~ Johanna

*Silence is not a punishment, or a bad thing. It is actually a spiritual discipline. However, silence is needed to gain perspective on hard things.

For the Beauty of the Earth

2011-11-20T22:37:00.003-07:00

Some of my Oxford photos set to 'For the Beauty of the Earth'. The fact that I was able to attend New College (where many of the photos are taken) and live in England with awesome persons is definitely the highlight of my year (and my life to date).

Thank You, Jesus, for such an awesome opportunity!

What are YOU thankful for this year?

~ Johanna

Snapshots of Life...

2011-11-19T23:04:00.012-07:00

I finally realised that I can upload my own photos right onto my blog. This could make my posts a bit more colourful!

I got a new coat for $8 at Goodwill this week. The funny thing is, it is almost exactly what I was looking for last year when I found out I was going to England (minus the hood - someone detached that). Does that mean I get to go back to England?

Last week Andréa and Kasey came to Colorado and we visited the Summit Semester clan at Snow Wolf Lodge. In this photo we are sporting our Nebraska gear in honour of Kasey.

Aren't my flatmates absolutely Beautiful? :) We're just missing the lovely Jacqueline.

Er, um, during my second visit to Semester (Alumni weekend/Farvest Hall) some of the guests made almond butter... Laura and I may have decided that licking the spatula was the most responsible way to clean it.

That's all for now, merry Thanksgiving to one and all!
~ Johanna

Christ Now and Then

2011-11-15T22:19:00.006-07:00

"I wanted life itself, the colour and fire and loveliness of life. And Christ now and then, like a loved poem I could read when I wanted to. I didn’t want us to be swallowed up in God. I wanted holidays from the school of Christ.”

~ Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy (page 136)

There are many other, arguably better, quotations from A Severe Mercy. However, this one reminds me that I, too, don't always desire Jesus as I ought. It is sobering. Do I want holidays from the school of Christ? Sometimes. O God, help me to want more and still more of You!

In light of this struggle, I found another well-loved quotation from A Severe Mercy apropos:

“The best argument for Christianity is Christians: their joy, their certainty, their completeness. But the strongest argument against Christianity is also Christians--when they are sombre and joyless, when they are self-righteous and smug in complacent consecration, when they are narrow and repressive, then Christianity dies a thousand deaths. But, though it is just to condemn some Christians for these things, perhaps, after all, it is not just, though very easy, to condemn Christianity itself for them."
~ Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy

On the days I would rather have a holiday from the school of Christ, I find that I am not exhibiting the first characteristics Vanauken says are indicative of Christians. But even when I want holidays from the Master's school, the truth of Christianity does not shift or change. I shift, I falter like a shadow, but He is the light that dispels even my darkest desires. Persons may [rightly] reproach Christians, but no slander sticks to the Truth of Christ.

~ Johanna

Kyrie Eleison

2011-10-26T08:52:00.007-06:00

Lord have mercy upon us
Christ have mercy upon us
Lord have mercy upon us
~ Kyrie Eleison

A beautiful way to start this snowy day. I'm watching fine flakes shaken like caster sugar over all the orange, yellow, and green leaves of Autumn... Thank You Jesus for Beauty!

And We Are Filled With Joy...

2011-10-23T19:38:00.009-06:00

The LORD has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy.

~ Psalm 126:3 (NiV)

What has the LORD done for you today that has filled you with joy?

Here is my list from the weekend:
Good Summit friends from across the country converging in Colorado
Sunset in Estes Park over jagged, snow-capped peaks across a still lake
Bouldering with awesome friends
Photo shoots
RED maple trees at Celestial Seasonings factory, and all around Boulder in general
Extreme yellow cottonwood-type trees along the river
Good chilli at Snarf's sammich shop
Fantastic conversations
Fun and hoopla @ the Stonestreet's
Laughing so hard that we cried @ Savannah's awesome stories
Really, really good food - especially avocados
Reading/Finishing Perelandra
Good hymns and service at St. George's this morning + Middle School FUSE ;)
Phone calls from good friends needing a listening ear and advice (and the same friends giving good advice and exhibiting humility)
Amazing cups of tea with cream and sugar
Liverwurst sammiches w/avocados
John Michael Talbot and Michael Card music to chill out with in the evening
Time to write letters
A heated blanket on my comfy bed, and just having a bed!
My car running like a champion through the Mountains and the Beautiful drive to/through Estes Park (and the moosen we saw in the woodsen!)
Fun hikes and lovely walks
Cold nights with clear skies and no moon; perfect for viewing the stars
My friends Joseph and Edna who always bless me with good conversation and sweet, unlooked-for gifts
Considering and mulling over the fact that at a literal point in history, God wasn't a man and that at one specific time He set aside His rightful glory and splendour to be clothed in flesh to share man's smudge and smell
Psalm 126 (check out the end after the above verse... Soooo good!)

Ah! And there is a new week ahead to gather more realisations that God has done great things for us...
...And I am filled with joy!

~ Johanna

Stepping Stones

2011-10-22T00:28:00.005-06:00

Have you ever tried to cross a creek by jumping from stone to stone? I often go about this task rather gingerly (and not just because I am red-headed). Stones in a creek can be slippy, moss-covered, treacherous, and wobbly. Sometimes it is no easy task picking your way across such hazards; especially when you do not know which (if any) you will meet on your trek.

Life is rather like crossing an immense stream by stepping from rock to rock. It is hard to tell if you will have sure footing, if the shallow water rushing over a stone is perilous, or if you will find a solid place to pause. Sometimes one puts their foot out onto a stone, trusting their weight to it, only to find that it is weak and wriggling. When this happens to me I usually make a mad dash to find the next rock in the chain of stones. If the next stone is solid it is a good halting place to recover balance and nerve; but when the next step is also shaky, it can be a disastrous course. Sometimes I get wet.

Reality is like that... I trust my heart to something inordinately more than God (people, intellect, work, and on it goes) and I find that thing too weak to support me. Not because the thing is bad of itself, but because I rely on it disproportionately to trusting God. If I do not change my course and seek the solid rock of obedience to Jesus I end up getting wet. Sometimes just my 'shoes' are sopping and soggy; other times I am completely submerged in the rushing river coursing between the stones.

"I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping stones
Of their dead selves to higher things."
~ Tennyson

My friend Andrew shared the above lines on his blog recently and it struck a chord inside of me. There are times when our course lies across a part of the stream where there are no stones we can reach. Unless the Creator Himself lays a path before us (which He does surprisingly often), He often gives us things to sacrifice to become the next step.

As the Israelites built altars of memorial stones when God did something great, we too, at times build memorials to God out of things offered or sacrificed to Him. We offer Him the root of bitterness, lust, lies, or some other brokenness needing to be consumed from our lives. We sacrifice the good things in our lives, seeking the best things. We offer praise and thanksgiving at all times, even in sorrow and suffering. These things are memorial stones to the testimony of the power, kindness, and goodness of God. It is with these stones that the Father paves our way before us. We step upon our dead selves, our dead past, to step closer to Him.

What stepping stones does the LORD desire to lay before you? What sacrifices can be made into altars of memorial? Will you let the Shepherd take your weakness, brokenness, and sin and turn them into a place of surrender and hope [confident expectation]? What part of you needs to be crucified and stepped upon to reach the next step in life?

Would you be so bold as to comment below with your answer to one (or all) of these questions? I will go first... Right now the LORD is working in me to be better disciplined with my time, especially in giving Him the first fruits/portion of the day... And He is reminding me not to fall into old habits where I waste mornings by sleeping in - which reminds me that I need to go to bed so I can rise to spend tomorrow with my dear friends from out of town. Goodnight all!

~ Johanna

Pressed, but not crushed...

2011-10-12T09:36:00.002-06:00

"Remember, however, that to be breakable is not the same as to be perishable."
~ G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Chesterton pens the above line in a chapter labelled "The Ethics of Elfland" in his superior little book Orthodoxy. (Project Gutenberg has the entire book on-line for free, see above link. You can even download it to your Kindle.)

I thought of Paul describing all of the punishments he had endured for the sake of Christ, how he was pressed, but not crushed, persecuted, but not abandoned. And then the line from Job, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him" came to mind. So I have been pondering what it means to allow God to break me, while knowing He won't discard me.

I go back to Chesterton's thought: God has made us imperishable, yet breakable. Why? He has built us with frailty in us (need for food, sleep, etc.). Why? After all, in Him there is no frailty, no shadow of turning, no going back on His word.

The Psalmist understood that we were built with frailty in us when he said,

"My heart was hot within me;
While I was musing, the fire burned.
Then I spoke with my tongue:

'LORD, make me to know my end,
And what is the measure of my days,
That I may know how frail I am'."
~ Psalm 39:3-4

God is so different from us, yet He not only knows that we exist, He knows us! I am overwhelmed with this realisation... That God would know us, care for us, draw us in to the most intimate fellowship with Him under the shadow of His wings. It is too much, He is too much!

That is my thought for today, God is too much. He is far more than 'enough'. He is beyond the scope of our greatest imaginings. When we remember how great God is, how good He is in spite of circumstances, how kind and patient He is, we find that we can be pressed, but we are not crushed. We are breakable, but not disposable or perishable. Let us be breakable in the Father's hands, which is the safest place to be broken.

~ Johanna

Autumn: Nothing Gold Can Stay

2011-09-29T13:16:00.009-06:00

September is my favourite month. The days are sunny and warm with a nip in the air. The nights are chilly, allowing me to snuggle under my down comforter. Most of the trees here in the foothills are still green, but oft their edges are tipped with gold, their hardest hue to hold, as Mr. Frost so aptly penned.

This morning the sun chased me from under my warm nest of covers. I slipped outside as the Morning Star illumined the yellow leaves of a tree that had turned early. My eyes lingered on the half-green, half-amber dryads lining the river. A gilded stream of leaves coursed through the channel along the sidewalk. The chill breeze chased the citron leaves along the street, their frail frames scuttling the direction I, too, traversed. They chased me like an unbidden memory invades the present. I let them come. Indeed, I hardly had the power to stop their swirling dance any more than I could quell an impetuous memory.

Freshness hung in the air, mingling with the aroma of crunching leaves. Sunshine filtered through the torn cotton clouds and settled on the distant Pike's Peak, crowning it with gold. But even the gold of early dawn could not long tarry, and neither could I. I dropped my letters in the post box and made for home, eager to read the next chapter in Orthodoxy; but that is a topic for another post.

Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~ Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost

Bearing the Cost

2011-08-25T07:35:00.009-06:00

Recently I have been re-reading the classic Hinds' Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard. My dad first read the book to me when I was quite young, and then again around high school. I have read it myself a couple of times also. I learn something new (or in a deeper way) every time I read it.

Hinds' Feet is an allegory of sorts, with the main character, Much Afraid, allowing the Shepherd to plant the seed (thorn) of love in her heart and lead her on a journey to the High Places. Her first check comes when the Shepherd begins to lead her directly away from the mountains and through a vast desert. Here she learns the first lesson in love, Acceptance with Joy. In the desert sand where a few drops of water happen to splash from a spring, there is a single golden flower persevering; its name is Acceptance with Joy.

As Much Afraid continues her journey through the desert she does not turn toward the high places, but is led toward the Sea of Loneliness. There are many lessons to be learned here and in the next part of the journey, but finally the Shepherd leads her toward the mountains again. Now she has circuited the range and finds herself at a sheer, seemingly impassable precipice. The Shepherd tells her that to make her lame feet like hinds' feet she has to come this harder way. He promises her that she will learn the next lesson of love as she climbs the Precipice of Injury (not to be confused with Mt. Reviling or Persecution) with her strong companions, Sorrow and Suffering.

On the second day of her journey, in a lonely cleft in the sheer rock, Much Afraid meets a blood-red flower, glowing in the sunrise. The flower is named 'Bearing the Cost' (though some call it 'Forgiveness'). At one point it says,

"I was separated from all my companions, exiled from home, carried here and imprisoned in this rock. It was not my choice, but the work of others who, when they had dropped me here, went away and left me to bear the results of what they had done..."

In spite of ill treatment, the little flower continues that in this lonely and desolate place there is nothing to distract it from its Love, the sun.

"He shines upon me and makes me to rejoice, and has atoned for me all that was taken from me and done against me. There is no flower in all the world more blessed or more satisfied than I, for I look up to [my Love] as a weaned child and say, 'Whom have I in heaven but Thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire but Thee'."

I just loved the little flower's response to adversity and loneliness: Now there is no distraction from my Love. There is no flower in all the world more blessed or more satisfied than I.

What an attitude to have! Rather than seeing our circumstances as hard, impossible, and solitary, we can both accept them with joy and bear the cost. We find that in the isolated places there is nothing to distract us from our Love: Jesus.

The passage that Bearing the Cost quotes from is Psalm 73. I have expanded it below for the sake of having some context. At the beginning of Psalm 73 the psalmist objects that the wicked prosper and do not seem to experience pain or poverty. However, like a sonnet there is a volta, a turning point; the writer thinks these things until he goes in to the Sanctuary of God. Then he realises his error and misunderstanding. He finishes with these thoughts (vv 23-28):

Nevertheless I am continually with You;
You hold me by my right hand.
You will guide me with Your counsel,
And afterward receive me to glory.

Whom have I in heaven but You?
And there is none upon earth that I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart fail;
But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

For indeed, those who are far from You shall perish;
You have destroyed all those who desert You for harlotry.
But it is good for me to draw near to God;
I have put my trust in the Lord GOD,
That I may declare all Your works.

Indeed, may I declare in trials and loneliness that there is now nothing to distract me from my Love. May I discover that there is no person in all the world as blessed and satisfied as me. And may I truly be able to declare that there is none that I desire besides Jesus.

~ Johanna

An Arrow in Flight

2011-08-15T12:15:00.004-06:00

When was the last time you sat down to read a good novel? For me it was last night. I picked up Pride and Prejudice to read for 'a little bit' and found myself still reading it two hours later. When was the last time you sat down to read Scripture like a novel? When was the last time you were astonished to find an hour or two had elapsed when you were reading the Bible?

A story draws us in, brings the reader in to the character's thoughts and observations, and often teaches by delighting*. Many Christians tend to think of the Bible as an instruction manual, a textbook, or a collection of sayings, stories, parables, and rules. The Bible becomes bits and pieces 'suitable' for reading in 10 or 15 minutes before dashing out the door for our busy and 'important' lives. However, the Bible is actually a story.

Now, I'm not Dawkins or some emergent church advocate calling the Bible a sham; but what if I told you the Bible is a myth, a fairytale, a metanarrative, and the like? You see, the Bible is a myth, a tale, a metanarrative (over arching story). It just happens to be a true myth, a real tale, and THE big story. (If you have heard metanarratives slandered and dismissed, or if you think they are bad, see Goheen's very readable explanation.)

If you are like me, you secretly harbour the desire to walk through a wardrobe and find yourself in a snowy land of always winter and never Christmas. Deep down you wish that dwarves, elves, talking beasts, and Hobbits really lived in a land you could sail to. We want myths and fairytales to be true. We want to step into the world of Jane Austin's or Charles Dickens' novels. We want a story-line, a hero, a victorious, happy, or peaceful ending.

Though the Bible contains various genres of writing (poetry, parables, prophecy, principles, proverbs, and past events) it is all one story. When you aim an arrow, you know from the beginning where you want it to go. If someone else sees the arrow in flight he can tell by the trajectory (at least generally) where the arrow came from and where it is going. The same is true of Scripture, we see where everything began and the track of the story. We can also see that it isn't over yet, but we have been told that the ending is victorious, joyful, and beyond restorative.

How can we see this big picture in Scripture if we only read a few verses, maybe a chapter at a time? We need to begin reading Scripture as holistically as possible. Read a complete gospel in one sitting. Read a few of Paul's letters all together. Read through all of Genesis, or Isaiah, or Jeremiah, etc. Yes, it takes time. Just remember that it is a story; it is supposed to be read as such. Remember, too, that it is a true story. Not all of it is "applicable" to life, but it does show the character of God and sets the stage for the New Testament, or the chapter of the story in which we find ourselves here and now.

* As Philip Sidney says in his Defence of Poetry: "Poesy therefore is an art of imitation...that is to say, a representing, counterfeiting, or figuring forth - to speak metaphorically, a speaking picture - with this end, to teach and delight."

Exposing the Lies of Lust

2011-08-07T16:51:00.005-06:00

Hello new territory...

Normally my blog is a place where I discuss books (usually older books, at that) or things God has been teaching me through circumstances, etc. Today, however, I want to talk about an issue that churches are not dealing with: the struggle women have with lust.

Lust is not only a 'male problem' - it never has been. But we have been raised to think it is only guys who struggle with knowing where to set their eyes on a summer's day (one of my friends always said that summer was 'sidewalk season' because it was the only safe place to look). We are told that only men have a black thought-life, and only males are stimulated by scantily clad women on billboards or in the windows of Victoria's Secret.

But the secret is that women struggle, too. Probably not in the same way that men do - men and women think and process differently, of course. Yet lust is a human sin, not geared towards males alone. I have found this to be the case time and again with the girls I encounter... And I would be lying if I didn't say that those billboards, et cetera are distracting to me, too. Few churches (very few, in fact) address the issue, making young women feel like they are alone in their sin, having nowhere to turn in getting help.

Here I will turn things over to someone who has thought this through and polished her writing a bit more (okay, a LOT more) than I have. Please click the link below to read the full post. It isn't long and it is eye-opening.

We need to clearly teach that lust is a human condition, not just a masculine one. Knowing God's glory is at stake, we need to create humble church cultures where secret sin is not kept in the dark, but rather brought into the light...

...The roaring lion waits in the cover of darkness to attack what he finds there, but "whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God" (John 3:21).
~ Carolyn McCulley
Lust: Not for Men Only, 22 July 2011

Words for Life

2011-07-29T09:24:00.014-06:00

"Every acceptance of [God's] will becomes an altar of sacrifice." ~ Hannah Hurnard

"Faith looks up with open hands. 'You are giving me this LORD? Thank You. It is good and acceptable and perfect.' " ~ Elisabeth Elliot

"There is always enough time to do the will of God."
~ Elisabeth Elliot

Then I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean;
I will cleanse you from all your filthiness and from all your idols.

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you;
I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.

I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes,
and you will keep My judgments and do them.

Then you shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers;
you shall be My people, and I will be your God.

I will deliver you from all your uncleannesses.
{Ezekiel 36:25-30a}

"I'm just being honest!"

2011-07-26T08:52:00.016-06:00

*Note: If you don't have time to read all of this, skip to the Elisabeth Elliot quotation and following.

We live in a world, even a Christian subculture, that values 'honesty', 'genuineness', 'authenticity' and 'transparency'. I value all of those things a great deal. Yet I find that I value 'authenticity' more than I value refraining from gossip; 'genuine expression' more than not sinning in my anger (or my angry words); and I disregard building up the Body of Christ in favour of 'transparent' feelings about fellow Christians.

I am not alone in this strangely 'weighted' values system. Many other Christians are the same. We want to express our feelings, our emotions - even if in our anger we say untruths about someone. We desire to rationalise that we aren't really gossiping, we are just explaining the events (and persons involved) that hurt our feelings, frustrated us, etc.

Yesterday I was twice presented with the idea that honesty is not always the best policy.

I was listening to pastor Tim Keller talk about Removing Idols of the Heart, where he related the story of the forgiven prostitute who was kissing Jesus' feet at the house of Simon (the former leper). At one point in his illustration, Dr. Keller says that Simon wasn't more moral because he had been forgiven less than this woman (implying that he has sinned less). However, Keller's next statement caught my ear. He said that neither was the prostitute somehow more moral (according to our changed standards - as if we had the authority to do so) by being honest while Simon was a hypocrite.

In the afternoon I was reading Discipline: The Glad Surrender by Elisabeth Elliot where I came across a story that proved Mrs. Elliot-Gren does actually sin sometimes. She was speaking of her annoyance at a young woman, and at her husband's correction for letting her annoyance show. Her response was a running commentary of self-defence in her head. It was certainly 'honest' and 'genuine'.

Elisabeth Elliot went on to say,

" 'Reality' is often evil. There is a common belief that a frank expression of what one naturally feels and thinks is always good because it is 'honest'. This is not true. If the feelings and thoughts are wrong in themselves, how can expressing them verbally [or via e-mail, facebook, etc.] add up to something good? It seems to me they add up to three sins: wrong feeling, wrong thought, wrong action."
(page 66, Revell/Baker, ©1982 - emphasis mine)

So let us be honest: let us call slander by its name. Let us stomp on our own tongues to extinguish the fires of gossip. Let us cease from anger and forsake wrath that gives place to sin... Even if we were simply 'expressing ourselves'. Some forms of 'self-expression' are sin. I know, because I sin often. In the months since I have been back from Oxford, my patient mother has had many frustrated calls from me where I have 'vented' about a particular issue. However, in my 'authenticity', I confess that I sinned in just about every previously mentioned area – maybe all of them.

We must give place to emotions, but the place for our emotions (which includes things like rage, bitterness, resentment, even frustration) is found in the piercing eyes of the Man of Sorrows. When we look into the very eyes of Jesus, all of our hurts, unrighteous anger, jealousies, lusts, etc. die. Not because we haven't experienced real pain, frustration, desires, and so on, but because Jesus, too, has dealt with derision and scorn. He, too, has served annoying people. He had to be flexible at the last second. His closest friends deserted Him. Those in authority constantly badgered Him. People mocked Him and goaded Him. He knows.

For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. ~ Hebrews 4:15

Jesus experienced rejection, hatred, scorn, abandonment (by His disciples and His own Father), and much more, but He did not sin in the way He reacted to those things. He was honest in His cry of "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" but He did not reject His mission or His Father at that point. He was obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross (Phil. 2).

We must daily pray that we may have the mind of Christ. When we meet with joy and pain, gladness and frustration, hope and despair, ungodly anger and righteous indignation, unkindness and overwhelming blessing, unfairness and injustice (completely different things!), doubt and trust, and the myriad of other emotions that daily confront us, we will be able to respond aright if we have asked the Holy Spirit to help us put on the mind of Christ.

Remember, honesty is not always the best policy if you are 'expressing yourself' from wrong motives or in a sinful way. Look into the pages of Scripture, and into the eyes of Christ crucified, for direction on how to deal honestly with your emotions.

The Fruit Itself

2011-07-21T23:48:00.010-06:00

“Education is only a ladder to gather fruit from the tree of knowledge, not the fruit itself.” ~ Attributed to Einstein

What is education? Does it differ from 'schooling' and 'learning'? Is education itself an end or a means to the end?

There are many questions that come up in the discussion and dissection of education. To set up a definition of this word, let us look at its etymology. Educate: circa mid 15th century. From the Latin pp educare 'bring up, rear, educate,' which is related to educere 'bring out, lead forth'...

"To bring out or lead forth from what exactly?" one might ask. Good question. It has been presented to me by Hillsdale College professor, Michael Bauman, that to educate means 'to bring one out of ignorance'.

Educate has changed in meaning over the course of time. While in one sense it still means 'to lead one out of ignorance', it now also means 'formal learning at a college or university'. This could also be called 'information gathering'. Due to this more modern idea of education it is little wonder that statements like the following have been made:

“I've never let my school interfere with my education.” ~ Mark Twain

“The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education.” ~ Einstein

“My education was interrupted only by my schooling” ~ Winston Churchill

Though different words are used, the same idea is conveyed - formal teaching or 'information gathering' can actually get in the way of being led out of ignorance. Often it is the character of a teacher, mentor, family member, or friend that really changes the way we view life, the way we live.

Do not misunderstand me. There is much to be said for learning one-on-one with a tutor and writing one or two papers a week for eight weeks. There is something to be said for the American style of learning through lectures and classroom discussions. However, there is also much to be said for reading, pondering, and thinking things through at one's own desk or kitchen table. There is something great to be said for learning lessons by observing a person's character; from conversations; from looking into the eyes of the homeless; from being still and letting the words of the Magnificat, Nunc Dimittis, Lord's prayer, Confession, and Creed pour over your soul during evensong.

Life is so much bigger and richer than merely the classroom, or books by themselves, or even the inside of a chapel. If we allow God to be our Tutor and all the facets of life to be the books, classroom, and hands-on 'lab-work' as-it-were, we could have no better education - full stop.

When we are thus educated we will find that education itself is not the goal, but it is the process by which we become more fully alive, truly human. It leads us to be able to glorify God -because He has allowed us to know Him- and to enjoy Him forever, which is the fruit of life itself.

~ Johanna

Material for Sacrifice

2011-07-15T09:58:00.004-06:00

Here is something I gleaned yesterday from the Elisabeth Elliot book I am reading called, The Path of Loneliness.

"IS it not legitimate, then, to think of loneliness (or whatever you struggle with) as material for sacrifice? What I lay on the altar of consecration is nothing more and nothing less than what I have at this moment, whatever I find in my life now of work and prayer, joys and sufferings.

Some people see singleness as a liability, a handicap, a deprivation, even a curse. Others see it as a huge asset, a license to be a "swinger", an opportunity to do what feels good. I see it as a gift. To make that gift an offering may be the most costly thing one can do, for it means the laying down of a cherished dream of what one wanted to be, and the acceptance of what one did not want to be. 'How changed my ambitions!' the apostle Paul may have thought, for he wrote, 'Now I long to know Christ.' "

~ Elisabeth Elliot (emphasis mine)

One further sentence in the book that snagged my attention was, "What we don't have now, we don't need now." This was written about someone not being able to make friends after a move... But I think it can apply to anything, and its converse may be just as true, "What we do have now is what we need to learn to be satisfied with." Not satisfied with forever, but until the LORD changes our vocation, places us in the community that we need, or blesses us with a spouse, etc. But what we don't have now, we don't need. We can live here and now as whole human beings.

~ Johanna

You Come Too: Lessons from Poetry

2011-07-12T18:01:00.006-06:00

To the Cuckoo

O blithe newcomer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice:
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near.

Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my schoolboy days
I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.

O blessed birth! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, fairy place,
That is fit home for Thee!

~ William Wordsworth

"Thou bringest unto me a tale / Of visionary hours." Wordsworth writes this of the cuckoo's call, yet he is doing the very same thing through his poem.

The whole poem is a tale of vision, bringing the reader's mind up and into the light. Wordsworth's poem gives one's mind the wings to flit through the air and momentarily forget any troubles that might be weighing him to the ground. "And I can listen to thee yet; / Can lie upon the plain / And listen, till I do beget / That golden time again."

This aspect of 'transportation' in poetry is precisely why one should read it. Poetry - indeed, good literature as well - has the ability to bring one out of one's self to think and feel things that ordinary life may not have yet taught him. I find that I learn much about the wide world, about good character, about hope, about sorrow, about love, about death, about Life woven through the lines of poetry and prose. You may do the same, 'You come too.' *

~ Johanna

*The Pasture, by Robert Frost

On Fairy Stories and Innocence

2011-06-23T17:05:00.013-06:00

We live in a world where fairy stories are thought to be for children only. We exist in a culture that thinks innocence in adults is impossible, unusual, or even detrimental. To be a 'grown up' one must be concerned with the weather, with bills, career, keeping up the yard, and the list goes on interminably.

It is thought to be quite childish to read fairy stories, to delight in rainy days (or sunny days), to find cheer in smelling the flowers blooming along the path of one's morning walk, to stop and watch a funny little animal in its daily habits, or some other equally small pleasure. Folks call you 'Pollyanna' if you are too cheery about how nice the day is, what lovely flowers grace the out-of-doors, how magnificent a tree or mountain are, how enchanting the stars are, and so on. They believe you to be insincere or out of touch with reality.

What if all of those so-called 'adults' are wrong? Perhaps you possess innocence and they have been lured away by the sensuality of worldly cares. It would seem that becoming an 'adult' is a dull and dreary affair filled with woes and cares. A 'grown up' does not remember how to imagine, or how to really play with children, nor do they know how to appreciate fairy stories.

Our culture takes fairy tales and flips them upon their heads, making the female character the heroine and emasculating the male rôle. Innocent stories are supplanted with sexual undertones, and in many cases, sexual overtones, too. Heroes of tales today are rebellious, belligerent, arrogant, and haughty; replacing the valour, nobility, maturity, and selflessness of past heroes.

The worlds of Narnia and Middle Earth are stories about men of valour, obedience, sacrifice for the greater good, ordinary and extraordinary men, and every day responsibilities and duties - all without even a rumour of sensuality. In these stories no one is even fighting for a girl, but for the good of the world. Not that fighting for a girl is bad, but it is not the end goal.

Yet it is these types of classic stories that awaken the warrior within us. These tales birth the desire to serve humbly alongside dwarves, elves, talking beasts, ancient kings, worthy rangers, and Gandalf or Aslan himself. When we close the book we are inspired to be better than we were when we opened it. We are ready to accept life's adventures and its daily happenings; to discover how big the world truly is; to do right even though it is costly; to be a true and loyal friend; to seek peace at our own expense and to fight when it is necessary.

For these reasons fairy stories ought to be read and re-read by adults to remind them of the things that are more real, more glorious or weighty than the airy matters of offices, bills, and parties. Real fairy stories (not the sort dispensed by Disney) have protagonists who are real, fallen men who are stretched to become better than they were.

True adults know that they are not the most important person in their sphere or the world. They take time to enjoy small pleasures, they seek innocence and self-sacrifice over sensuality and arrogance. They know the reality of hardship, sorrow, and loss, yet they do not focus on those things. They remember their armchair and kettle just beginning to sing on the hearth, as Bilbo did in The Hobbit; and it is the simple joys of life that give them the courage and strength to pursue right at any cost. These are the true grown ups, everyone else is just play acting.

~ Johanna

Post Script: This entry has been a few years in the processing. I have been labelled Pollyanna for being too optimistic and cheerful. I have been called immature for being more innocent than my peers. At first I was offended and felt somewhat immature and unrealistic... Perhaps I am. However, I have come to the conclusion that greatness must be tempered by humility; hustle and work must be balanced with enjoyment of small pleasures; and the stress of hard things in life must be brought hope through fairy stories. Stories show us reality better than 'real life' does sometimes.

Post, Post Script: You may notice that, unlike my usual entries, I said nothing of God by name in this one. Surely heroism, valour, self-sacrifice, and every good, true, excellent, and beautiful thing stems from God Himself. Of course, but I figured my readers already knew that to be true and knew that to be my belief. I think the character of God is very latent in this whole piece.

My Academic Reason for Going to Oxford

2011-05-18T09:26:00.003-06:00

.:The following text (except the essay) was written 8 March 2011 after I finished my final Oxford tutorial:.

Below is the paper that I came to Oxford to write. At least, it was the one (topic-wise) that I had envisioned. Getting to this paper took a lot of reading and ate a lot of hours of sleep. It is certainly not my best writing (I wrote the whole paper in 3-1/3 hours before my tutorial this morning), but the essence of this paper is the question I wanted an answer to when I had to pick my primary topic for Oxford "way back" in November.

The paper was well-received, my final tutorial went well, and I am sitting in disbelief realising that the term is over. It is a day of bittersweet feelings and thoughts. It is a day of sunshine and a few tears. I am very pleased, and very humbled at the kindness of the LORD.

And now, my final History essay for Hilary 2011:

Revolutionary Reflections

Why Did Edmund Burke Aid the American Colonies but Oppose the French?

“The fresh ruins of France, which shock our feelings wherever we can turn our eyes, are not the devastations of civil war; they are the sad but instructive monuments of rash and ignorant counsel in time of profound peace.”1 This says Edmund Burke early in his treatise, Reflections on the Revolution in France. Over and again in this work Burke chastises the French for the revolution they are staging. His above testimony is an incrimination of their deficient cause for revolt, something Burke decries loudly. Throughout Reflections he criticises the French on many points, chiefly the following: replacing the government without sufficient cause; lacking a moral and religious foundation needed for any sustainable government; and rejecting the rule of law, erecting instead the rule of man.

Burke’s reasons for denouncing the French Revolution are sound, yet they raise a valid question: why did he assist the American Colonies in their War for Independence but reject the French Revolution? The answer to this question lies precisely in Burke’s arguments given in his Reflections. Let us now consider those arguments more in depth.

Firstly, Burke is adamant that a nation’s government not be changed for ‘light and transient causes’2. He says, “The speculative line of demarcation, where obedience ought to end, and resistance must begin, is faint, obscure, and not easily definable. It is not a single act, or a single event, which determines it. Governments must be abused and deranged indeed, before it can be thought of; and the prospect of the future must be as bad as the experience of the past.”3 Here Burke is asserting that if one wishes to change their government there must be something vastly wrong with the government or with the individual. All other resources must be expended, other options pursued, and the future must look at least as bleak as the past before the thought of revolution should even be entertained. To underscore his point, Burke says that, “A revolution will be the very last resource of the thinking and the good”4.

Was the French Revolution founded upon such an egregious break in trust that the only response was revolt? Looking at the events leading up to the Bastille and the action at Tuileries Palace one would be hard pressed to find a series of offences worthy of rebellion. The elite resented their exclusion from the government of the country, the peasants felt the strain of an outmoded feudal system, crop failure led to the further poverty of the poor, all while the revolutionary ideas of humanist philosophers rang in the ears of the people. None of these things, separately or collectively, constituted a justifiable reason to overthrow the monarchy. France failed the first test of legitimacy for a revolution.

The second criterion for establishing or reshaping a government is a moral and religious underpinning. “All other nations have begun the fabric of a new government, or the reformation of an old, by establishing originally, or by enforcing with greater exactness some rites or other of religion.”5 This, at least, is the case of lasting governments. During the Revolution those in power took vengeance upon the church, executing the clergy and appropriating parish land. Though Burke could not see around the bend in the course of history, France would soon dispense with traditional religion to worship a Supreme Being with pagan ceremonies. More subtlety, the French had already traded the glory of God for the glory and adoration of man. Yet again, the foundation for erecting a new or altered government was made of sand.

The third thing Burke eschews in France’s Revolution is the replacement of the rule of law with the rights of man. As we have already seen, these rights of man superseded religion, it is only logical that they would displace law as well. Though France was ruled by many factions after deposing her king - some of whom penned a constitution and The Rights of Man and of the Citizen - the ‘law as supreme’ postulate was displaced. Yet Burke clearly says of a people that, “It is therefore of infinite importance that they should not be suffered to imagine that their will, any more than that of kings, is the standard of right and wrong.”6 A good portion of Burke’s treatise is dedicated to the importance of law being transcendent, not created by the will of man, as if such a thing were possible.

From the above points, one finds a deplorable lack of legitimacy in France’s Revolution. It is no wonder that Burke opposes their uprising. Further, it becomes clear that the very points Burke states as warranted grounds for resistance and the institution of a new form of government are precisely the foundation of America’s War for Independence. The Colonies had grounds for separation, clearly stating them in the Declaration of Independence. This declaration was only given after multiple pleas to the law were made, many attempts to reconcile were sought, and a final outright refusal to obey unjust requirements brought more penalties. Finally, the Declaration of Independence appeals to God as the One who endows men with rights. From letters, speeches, and other historical documents, we see that the Founding Fathers based their decisions - and the governing Constitution - on the law of God. This dichotomy between the French and the American colonists is clearly why Burke fought for the colonists in Parliament but rejected the French Revolution.

Endnotes:

1. Burke, Edmund: Reflections on the Revolution in France Dover Publications Copyright ©2006; page 37
2. This phrase is from the Declaration of Independence, obviously showing how the Americans felt about the gravity of a change in government
3. Burke; page 28
4. ibid
5. Burke; page 35
6. Burke; page 93

Reflections and the Blessing of Solitude

2011-03-16T07:17:00.014-06:00

After a whole week of lovely sunshine and zephyrs, I woke to distant fog this morning. Since my final tutorial last week I have been a bit melancholy; today's weather is much more fitting for pondering than the recent glorious Spring days.

End of term at Oxford is filled with a bittersweet feeling of relief from intense days of study, yet missing those very hours upon hours spent expanding my mind and asking questions of the texts. It is as if a continuing conversation has come to a premature end. There is so much more that I want to know about Romantic poetry and its authors. And I have only just begun to understand the philosophical, political, social, educational, and spiritual climate of the American Colonies and France in their respective "revolutions". Eight weeks were not enough to uncover the answers to all of my questions. Nor were they enough to learn the rest of the questions.

Then there is the loss of fellow-minded conversation and lectures at the C. S. Lewis Society each week. Even more acute is the void in the evening from 6.00-7.00, normally filled by evensong at New College (and on occasion at Christ Church Cathedral). That is a blow from which I might never recover.

This week I have spent hours walking around parts of Oxford I had never yet seen, since they were not on the way to the library or chapel. I have visited many magnificent and beautiful colleges. I have meandered down Addison's walk with a select few friends, purchased a first edition Lewis book, scouted out new places to visit, and sought solitude in familiar haunts. It has been a week of much needed stillness and time alone. Reflection on the last eight to ten weeks of work and adventure is vital.

These past few days have afforded me space to pray aloud; to speak of my faults and failures to the One who knows them, yet is big enough to hear them again. Indeed, He is the only One who can take my angry, unfiltered words of frustration and hurt. He is great enough to love me in spite of me. He is merciful to not simply leave me to suffer the consequences of what I have done. He is kind enough to change the desires of my heart. He is Love; and that means He will prune me in order to make me better. He will allow suffering and sorrow to forge me. He will not placate my sin, but excoriate me for it... Or it from me, as it were.

Where, oh where, would I be without stillness and solitude? No phone, no music, no chorus of voices ringing through the flat... Just silence and the steady footfalls of thoughts as they pad toward my pen or lips. If we did not have these times of solitude our souls would be impoverished. We would be but ephemeral bits of persons, not solid humans seeking to be more fully alive.

~ Johanna

Things considered whilst walking in the drizzle

2011-02-23T03:04:00.005-07:00

{Written Monday, 21 February 2011}

Today I walked down the sidewalks of Oxford and realized that it rather frustrates me that the British (and visitors to Oxford) don’t understand order. If you drive on the left side of the road, it should logically follow that you walk on the left side of the sidewalk. Ah, but no... Too often I find myself nearly having my head smashed by an unseen bus mirror because I am obliged to walk with traffic, rather than against it. Then there are those mental conversations about which way I need to sidestep to avoid oncoming pedestrians which result in a funny little dance. Left... No, right. No really, left. *Sigh*

Whilst observing my fellow travellers sloshing through the drizzle I learned that one ought to take a course in order to properly wield an umbrella. The girl ahead of me collided her umbrella with another woman’s, nearly removed a young man’s head by holding her rain-repeller at his neck’s height, and did not succeed at making it easy (or even possible) to pass her on the sidewalk.

When I wasn’t plotting my course or dodging mad bumbershoot-ists, I had a moment to think about my weeks in Oxford. Tuesdays and every other Friday are my favourite days. Tuesday mornings I have my History tutorial, where I often learn much about how to conceive questions that the text failed to ask. Midday on Tuesdays is made for walking all over Oxford in the spirit of exploration. I have nowhere to be in a hurry, I can literally stop and smell the flowers if I’d like. Evenings may be my very favourite, though, because I go to the C. S. Lewis Society. I don’t even pretend to be pretentious enough to ask a question, I just listen to everyone else’s. I wonder about my own questions, sometimes gaining the courage to ask them of the speaker afterward. Pondering ideas by Lewis or his contemporaries, meeting new people, talking with Jake (who usually goes with me), and setting up chairs for the evening are curiously rewarding events.

Every other Friday is rather different, but they all begin with me writing or editing my paper due at 9:30am. Sometimes I race to the OSAP office, sometimes I saunter; always I leave something essential back at the flat (quite usually my bus pass). My English tutor is patient with my terrible papers, teaches me more about poetry than I knew, connects things I might never have seen, and gives me a deep appreciation for imagination and vision. He has taught me much more than that, though. This tutor, like Dr. Bauman, has taught me that academics are good, important, and worth pursuing, but not at the cost of the individual. I am humbled at the time taken by these men to ensure that I grow as a person, not merely as a student or a writer.

I have made it to the New College cloisters, where I watch streaks of rain dash at the ground whilst pondering the things learned on my walk. It is a perfect day for reflection, reading, and writing. This is good, because my dabbling at writing has already begun with these thoughts, and must continue in earnest with my History paper that is due tomorrow morning. Farewell from this quiet place on this lovely rainy day!

~ Johanna

*Edit* You can also find this blog post on the Summit Ministries website.

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

2011-02-08T16:44:00.006-07:00

"You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts and civilisations–these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit–immortal horrors or everlasting splendours."
~ C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

It is fitting that I open this entry with a quotation by C. S. Lewis. You see, it was because of Lewis that I was out tonight. Do not panic, I am not seeing dead people. Tuesday nights are when the C. S. Lewis Society meets here in Oxford. I officially joined the society for the term this evening. That is beside the point. What matters is that neither you nor I have ever talked to a mere mortal.

The streets of Oxford offer plenty of mortal woes. They are often cloaked in flesh, have a dog at their feet, and are trying to sell you a British tabloid (the Big Issue). I do not know how to act when walking past a homeless person. My self partitions into two camps. One feels true pity or compassion for those in need, the other cynically wonders how that man will spend the change tossed in his coffee cup. Is he financially better off than the average tax-paying college student?

Dusk had come and gone, the stars could be seen from Christ Church courtyard, and I was on my way to the Lewis meeting. Granted, the time between Evensong and the meeting would put me there 45 minutes early - the only thing I would be early, or on time, for this whole day. Then I walked passed Christ.

No, really, I did. The man was sitting on the ground by Trinity College, asking for change. Unsure of my joining the Lewis Society or just paying the 2 quid fee for the evening, I knew that my pocket change added up to 2 quid 36p. So I smiled and said no. I stopped, thinking I had food with me, but I had the wrong bag. Offering my apologies I told the young man I didn’t even have food (meaning, to share). I doubt that even in my rain-splattered or windblown states I look homeless. Never-the-less the fellow misunderstood me, thinking I had no food at all. Out of his poverty (legitimate or self-imposed) he offered me his pack of biscuits. I tried to dispel the confusion, explaining that I had no food to give. I wished him a good evening and slowly walked away.

"And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner–no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment."
~ C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

I had been offered true charity in the young man's gesture. My steps slowed even more as I recalled to mind the Scripture I read yesterday in Matthew 25, “Whenever you have done it to the least of these, my brethren, you have done it unto me.” At the corner I stopped, internally arguing that I still had 45 minutes. I could turn around and at least go talk to the fellow for a while. The words, “the face of love” played in my mind. I almost turned around. Instead, I darted across St. Giles to avoid the bus, the shadowed face by Blackwell’s imprinted on my mind.

Jake found me on a park bench trying to read Money, Greed, and God for Friday’s Summit class. I was sitting 20 feet away from a panhandler who had walked up less than five minutes after I sat upon that bench. I watched people ignore him as he called out to their shoes, “spare change for the homeless?”. Jake and I walked passed, not truly acknowledging him. In part this was due to his very different attitude from the young man I had seen a few minutes before. But the other reason was because I was still struggling with knowing how to show love the homeless. Do I take the time to talk with them and hear their stories? Do I offer them food? Do I pray for them as I walk by? How do I discern between the con and the man who, in spite of his best efforts, can’t get a job? Who are the homeless? Aren't they my neighbours, the ones I snub?

“Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —Christ
—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not His
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.”
~ Gerard Manley Hopkins ~

Where else do I see Christ and walk away? I know a few people I have done this with lately. I was looking for something else and missed those right in front of my eyes. How often am I missing the very face of Christ in the features of men’s faces?

“You have never talked to a mere mortal... [Only] immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.”

~ Johanna

Final Day to be 25

2011-01-26T16:03:00.007-07:00

Tonight in Oxford I am aware of the smells. Between Cornmarket Street and the theatre, scents of old smoke and grease hang like nearly forgotten memories in the air. Closer to the Thames the smell of wet wood being burnt mixes with spicy Asian food. On street after street persons young and old light cigarettes, laugh with one another, duck into restaurants, or jog to catch the evening bus. Near the train station the smell of damp earth and Spring coalesce with a woodsmoke.

This evening I notice the sights in Oxford. How could one miss them? Spire after spire rise in the evening skyline. I step into the quadrangle of Christ Church College and see stars breaking through a patch of sky overhead. I see the fountain, the globed lights, and a small group of persons milling in the entryway to the cathedral. Inside my eyes land upon vaulted stone ceilings. On the floor a slab tells me that John Locke was a student at Christ Church. Robes, candles, and ecclesiastical icons greet my eager eyes. I close my eyelids to drink in nothing but the sound of the choir.

Today I hear the sounds of Oxford. There are shouts in the open market. Men and women are calling out the prices of their wares. I hear the rustle of pages in the library. Birds chirp at all hours or the day and night (which is a bit unnerving in the dark). I listen to rain on the wood shingles of the Cloisters. The Thames gurgles along, lapping at its muddy banks. Homeless men are heard on nearly every street corner, "Big Issue, miss?" they ask.

Now I am home. Time to read and catch some sleep before tea tomorrow with my Summit Oxford friends. The final day of being 25 is drawing to a close. It has been a good day, a good year. Here is to all that 26 holds!

~ Johanna

Rid Me of Myself

2011-01-22T14:40:00.002-07:00

Today has been "one of those days". It began as a chill Saturday with my roommate and I trying to discover the source of a very unpleasant smell in our kitchen (we've been noticing it for a few days). Unable to find the location, we went our separate ways to avoid being in the flat. I chose the New College Library - one of my favourite places in Oxford.

This is where the day began to become less than I wanted... My concentration dropped off the face of the planet. None of my books were useful. I read one Encyclopedia Britannica article, a few pages of my books, and got annoyed enough to head home. I went to the grocery (a wretched idea on a Saturday - just so you are aware) to grab a few ingredients for guacamole. The first store was out of corn crisps, so I had to go to a second grocery. Finally I made it home with the crisps (chips) and sour cream/yogurt. Jacqueline made yummy guac that we shared with the guys over a few laughs and free-for-all conversation.

Jake, being the fabulous neighbour that he is, offered to help us find the source of that smell in our flat. He and Stephen spent about half an hour trying to locate it last night, as well. Between Jake and Kasey, the offending odor was discovered in the overflow of our fridge: rotten milk. Let's just say it smelled like death. The fridge still needs some extra cleaning, but we are all happy to have the smell eliminated for the most part.

I still haven't been able to study and comprehend anything today... I'm going to hope that tomorrow is better for that when Rose and I have our study date. We are also having the girls from the flat below come up for tea and scones in the afternoon tomorrow. So, it promises to be a good day in a few regards.

But that is all tomorrow; this is today. The day I have felt cranky and easily offended. The day I have run on my own strength and found it sorely lacking. The day I've tried to be witty and live up to others' standards and failed. The day I left the flat without having quiet time... There is no substitute for not spending time in the word. No replacement for conversing with The Word.

Depending on my flesh rather than God's Spirit has certainly made today frustrating. Oh, there are days when I do have time in prayer and Scripture and still get cranky or run on my own strength. Yet it seems much harder to throw off my bad attitude and arrogance when I haven't spent any time hearing from the LORD. When I haven't committed my steps, my day, and myself to Him I run amok. Life is His to begin with, why do I think I get to use it as I see fit? Isn't that like stealing from God?

Thanks to my flatmates I started listening to some Hillsong music this week. One is a song I learned at Summit this summer; I found these lyrics quite fitting to the attitude I want to have:

Saviour I come
Quiet my soul remember
Redemption's hill
Where Your blood was spilled
For my ransom
Everything I once held dear
I count it all as lost

Lead me to the cross
Where Your love poured out
Bring me to my knees
Lord I lay me down
Rid me of myself
I belong to You
Lead me, lead me to the cross

I'm making this my prayer for the upcoming week... And my remaining time here in Oxford.
What prayers are you praying now? Are you expecting God to answer them?

That's it for this night.
I remain, ever under The Mercy...

...Johanna

Oxford Life

2011-01-13T09:53:00.004-07:00

Our flat shakes like an earthquake when fast trains go by. At least, I assume that's what a minor earthquake would feel like. The nice thing about living next to the train yard is that British trains don't really whistle, they merely honk on occasion. Living near the train station is often useful when lost, as well. Usually a sign or a person will point the way towards the train station even if they can't help you get anywhere else.

This week I've begun to feel less overwhelmed and more at home in Oxford. Walking in the rain at 40-50 degrees isn't too bad, and the birds sing rather often. Much of the shrubbery has leaves, and everything is green (a sharp contrast to Colorado), including my lemon and over-ripe tomatoes. Whoops.

Speaking of produce, as I was walking 'round Oxford yesterday, I happened upon an open air market. I bought 200g of cheese, about a dozen clementines, and four avocados for 3 quid (pounds). Not a bad deal, really. This was after my wandering around the New College (where I am an associate member) grounds and library. Upon my walk back, I stopped in Blackwell's booksellers for my very first time. I was a little disappointed that the first floor looked very much like a Barnes and Nobles. The upstairs, however, had a vast array of used volumes, many were quite pretty and inexpensive. Hm, how could I pack more books for my return flight?

Books get heavy, you see. This I realized (yet again) as I carried around two books given to me by my tutor, Mr. LeMay this morning. I am to write about the reasons behind the American's desire for splitting from England, or what drove the colonists to rebellion, as my tutor put it. This essay is due Tuesday morning. Mr. LeMay seemed rather gracious about the whole war and its outcome; perhaps it is because he grew up in South Africa.

I would write more, but I have an article and chapter to read for class with Kevin Bywater (taking place tomorrow afternoon), two books from one tutor, and some background info regarding the romantic period for another tutor.

Things I'm looking forward to in the next week: a free trip to London with OSAP on Sunday (if I get enough homework done on Saturday); evensong at New College; turning in my first two papers (Tues - History, Fri - Literature); a possible visit to the Eagle and Child; and all of the antics of my flatmates.

Ever under the Mercy,
Johanna

A New Year, A New Place

2011-01-03T13:18:00.005-07:00

4th Day in the England Adventure

Delayed flights, trotting through O'Hare to barely catch my international flight, touring around Heathrow to find other students, a bus ride to Oxford, a cab ride to Eynsham, meeting 9 fabulous students and 7 Bywater family members, church in a building founded before America was, buying groceries at the co-op and Sainsbury's, class, reading, and getting to know folks over meals and games... The days have been full and good.

While I should be reading instead I'm writing out some thoughts for those anxious to hear what England is like. I'm also writing for my own memory. The days have blurred together slightly. The tea here is lovely, as is the company.

Time for reflection doesn't happen quite enough. I can see the need to build in regular time for solitude, walks, prayer, writing, and Scripture reading. Some of those things may overlap, but none of those things will happen without careful planning and arranging. Except walking - that is done in great regularity.

I have barely begun to read a few things for one of my tutors, but I thought I would share one thing with anyone who might read my blog:

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it griev'd me my heart to think
What man has made of man.

~ William Wordsworth

Though short, a few lines from the poem cause me to ponder a bit. Why is it that the trill of a bird in early morn can make the heart soar, yet bring tears of sorrow, melancholy, sadness, or pain? How does sweetness cause pain? Is it the pain of Beauty which Sheldon Vanauken talks of in A Severe Mercy?

Out of the stillness broken by birdsong, and perhaps tears, one can certainly be led to ponder what man has made of man. Nature can seem unspoiled at times. The Beauty of the magnificent or overwhelming, the sharp thrill we receive when we hear the chatter of squirrels and birds is juxtaposed with the reality that human relationships are messy. Some men enslave others through hardship and toil, some persons oppress others' thoughts, writings, or speeches, and still others suppress through condescension.

But what has man made of man? Surely each of us can think of a great teacher, a book that has shaped our thinking or who we are, an employer who has helped us learn a skill or lessons of other sorts. What has man made of man? It is often because of someone else's help or encouragement that many a person has pressed on, has done more than they thought they ever could. Oh yes, this too is what man has made of his fellows.

It was God who placed us in communion with one another and with Himself. This poem is a good one, but could it have been great if Wordsworth had gone further, asking what God has made of man? I submit that it could have been.

That's it for tonight, another day of classes (and creme tea) comes tomorrow. Off to the land of dreams I must go!

~ Johanna

P. S. My address for the term is as follows, please feel free to send me mail!
*Note the address correction since yesterday*

86 Venneit Close
Chancellor Park - 2b
OX1 1HY
Oxford, UK

Further Up and Further In

2010-12-22T11:00:00.004-07:00

Learning lessons is a slow process for me. There are so many facets to a lesson that I often have to be taught the same thing from multiple angles. Perhaps this is why I never went to college; I was too busy re-learning lessons others learned the first time.

Christmastime has arrived in yet another year of my life; a perfect time revisit a lesson. If you are like me, you vacillate between hating the trappings of Christmas, yet loving the reason Christmas is celebrated. How does one explain this dichotomy?

Too often it comes out of my mouth as, “I hate Christmas.” Inaccurate. I hate ridiculous noise labeled “Christmas songs” (carols and hymns are fine, the Winter Wonderland and the Santa variety are not). I despise whiny children in retail stores and nasty grown-ups in the same (at any time of year this is true, in my experience it happens more at Christmas). I loathe the guilt and pressure to buy someone a gift because they are related to me, bought me a gift, or because I “have to.” Like most of my fellow Americans, I deplore the near-inevitable sugar rush and weight gain that takes place during the “holiday season.”

Do the above reasons really mean that I hate Christmas? Well, no. There are good things about Christmas: watching White Christmas with my sisters, making Mexican wedding cakes with my mom, building fires (as taught by my dad years ago), Christmas Eve midnight service with my dad and grandma, reading Christmas stories that make me cry, getting songs from The Muppet’s Christmas Carol stuck in my head, a plethora of good Christmas albums to listen to, spending time with family, etc.

Does this last list mean that I love Christmas? Again, no. Amy Grant’s Tender Tennessee Christmas and the smell of the woodstove burning while making Christmas decorations don’t make Christmas what it is. Reading Luke 2 with the family doesn’t either. Contrary to what many persons, even Christians, believe, Christmas is not about being with family. Christmas isn’t based on how I feel or if things are “like they were” when I was younger.

I’m not the first to say that what we call “nostalgia” is really a horrible imitation and corruption of one of God’s greatest gifts: Joy (as titled by C. S. Lewis) or Beauty (as described by Sheldon Vanauken). I probably won’t be the last to say such, either.

Often we long to go back or we wish that certain events were like they were when we were in our rosier days (what ever and when ever they might have been). We want what movies call “magical” moments. What we really want is not the experience, but the feeling that went with the experience. This is not magic or nostalgia. Inside we truly and desperately crave Joy or Beauty.

In Pilgrim’s Regress, Lewis captures well what happens when we revisit a place or memory, or attempt to recreate an experience: lust or idolatry. The two are really the same and neither are good or truly desirable. You might think that you are a “good person” who has not done such an atrocious thing, but tell me, do you ever desire to revisit special memories? Do you remember the excitement that went with many “firsts” in your life? Those were special things or times, but neither your nor I can live in our memories or go back to our “firsts.” When we miss out on the here and now for either something good in our memories or some hoped-for thing in our future, we make the past or future an idol. We lust after what we do not have rather than enjoying what we do. Lust and idolatry ensnare, whereas Joy and Beauty bring freedom.

How does one pursue Joy or Beauty when it come to Christmas? Should one abandon traditions? I’m not going to quit watching my favourite Christmas movies, or making cookies, or listening to Christmas carols. I may not send cards at Christmas (letters throughout the year are more preferable for me anyway), and I may not purchase gifts (even for the persons I am “supposed” to) unless someone is in need or I find something fitting. Of course, none of those things are particularly related to Christmas.

I can’t go backward seeking a feeling. I could just sit idly by as the whirlwind of Christmas passes me. Thankfully I am not limited to two options. I can do something rather different from what the majority (of Americans) does: I can move forward. I can go further up and further in to the life and world that God has created. But more than that, I must go further up and further in to the LORD Himself.

Even as I type I am moving further up and in. I wanted this essay to somehow capture a conversation about this very idea that I had in the Autumn. But that conversation was a one-time gift. I do wish it had been recorded so I could remember all of the neat things I was learning. Conversations are like much else in life, they are fluid. You can’t take a snapshot of a conversation. They live and breathe as-it-were, they move, they finish and die away. All of these things are natural.

Perhaps I am learning a little of what it means to go further up and in. I will miss new thoughts and feelings and vistas if I remain where I am or forever try to recreate something past. I must reach higher. I must look further. I must learn not to be afraid of losing what I had, rather, it is time to rejoice in what I am being given and what I will be given.

Come friends! Let us go further up and further in!!

Somthing like a Fairytale

2010-12-11T00:09:00.005-07:00

It is December. When did that happen?

I suppose it's time to refresh my blog to reflect all of the changes that are happening in my life. A map in the background is fitting. Until now my life has been charted; from here on out it will continue to be recorded in scribblings of ink. The jottings of words, the ink of photos - colours vibrant, some, shades of grey - will certainly be used to capture whatever is left of my time on this rolling sphere.

A map is apropos in other ways, as well. I'm about to make my first venture out of the country. I am glad that my first passport usage will be to England rather than some other part of the American continent.

Yes, the winds of change have blown away frustrating and confusing relationships, the routine of life, and have brought more favourable opportunities. Or perhaps I should say, the One behind the wind has done this. In the span of four days I went from, "This is my pretty chill Colorado life" to, "I'm going to Oxford!"

The story is one for fairytales or those books where you think, "Yeah, too bad that doesn't happen in real life." An anonymous donor offers to send the house-cleaning girl to Oxford. The folks in Oxford make an exception for the girl's lack of college credit. The girl is shocked (of course, who wouldn't be?). She buys a plane ticket to England. The mother of the girl has a friend who offers to purchase a computer for the girl. And then reality hits, the stacks of books grow and time shrinks. The girl has to learn how to manage time well (after many mishaps) and gets to know the Maker of the Story better in the process.

At least, that's the rough sketch. It really is a fantastic story. I wouldn't believe it... If it hadn't happened to me. The stack of books certainly is real. The plane ticket truly is purchased. The adventure has only just begun. I cannot wait to read this entry in 5 months knowing what I know then, rather than knowing what I know now.

Yet I'm glad to be here now... Glad to be in the state of awe and praise to the Author of a story so incredible it must be real life. My life. I think I shall muse on this and turn out the light on yet another wonderful day.

~ Johanna

The Yellow Cat

2010-09-28T22:45:00.007-06:00

Some nights are made for ponderings under the stars. Most nights are made for drinking tea with cream and sugar. Few nights should be marked by tears. Fewer still seem to be given to great revelations. Tonight is a rare combination of all of the above.

While I was staring up into the heavenlies and slowly sipping my mug of English breakfast, something darted past me. It was a yellow cat. It skittered into the night, leaving me to my thoughts. After pulling the scattered leaves of my mind into a paragraph or two of thought, I decided to put my laundry in the dryer.

At the laundry room door, I saw the yellow cat. It looked frightened. I called softly to it. I waited. He waited. He mewed. I called to Him again. Instead of appearing terrified, he took a step toward me. As soon as he sniffed my hand and I scratched his head a shift happened. The apprehension disappeared. The yellow cat began to frantically rub against my legs and seek my hand to pet him.

At my ankles was a love-starved, attention-hungry cat. My view shifted. How many persons do I know who are love-starved and attention hungry? Once they realize that their Maker desires to be their Husband (Isaiah 54:5) they become frantic with excitement. Those who were once afar off, outcasts, windowed, unlovely, and unloved are now accepted, loved, part of the group - chosen.

How would you feel at that reversal of position? Wouldn't you be ecstatic? Wouldn't you put your paws on the Maker's shin to try to get closer to His hand like that yellow cat did to me?

Our Maker sees our loneliness. He sees our tear-streaked and frightened faces. He calls to us and waits. He is patient with our apprehension. He calls again. He accepts us, tames us, makes us like Him.

Tears burned in my eyes when I realized that in spite of my confidence in Christ, I too, feel like a rejected stray sometimes. Tonight not only did my heart ache for those who are love-starved, but I realized something more... I am the yellow cat.

~ Johanna

Chasing After Beauty

2010-09-14T00:45:00.006-06:00

STILL ~ by WATERMARK
The more I get alone the more I see I need to get alone more, more. 'Cause just when I think that I'm alone Your Spirit calls out to me. And even silence has a song, 'cause that's when You come sing over me

Still, let me be still
Let me be okay
With the quiet in my heart
Still, I want to be still
I'm so quick to move
Instead of listening to You
Shut my mouth
Crush my pride
Give me the tears
Of a broken life,
Still

Oh this world, it falls around me and flutters all it's Beauty in my eyes. But let me choose the solitude, Simplicity has always simply changed my life. 'Cause even stillness makes me move, 'cause that's when my heart, learns to dance with You

This song has been on my mind and heart recently. Partly because I have been chasing solitude a good deal in the midst of the craziness of Summit life. Partly because the LORD is teaching me to lay aside my flesh, its desires, my will, my longings, and my chasing of good things over the pursuit of the best things, etc.

All summer in small group I have been pulling out Jeremiah chapter 3 and Ephesians 5:22-32 discussing spiritual adultery and its direct violation of the marriage covenant picture God paints between His people and Himself. I have often called this a discussion of "personal idols" (you should also be able to find this lecture for free on iTunes). I'm finding that I have many. I shan't list them all, it would take all night and I need to sleep soon. Perhaps more will come to light in later posts, but for now, let me share one...

I have a love affair with Beauty. Now, Beauty is not bad. It is Beauty that leads us to the LORD. That is the purpose of the Beautiful. However, sometimes I get caught in the trap of loving Beauty, rather than letting it bring me into the presence of God.

Last week I spent about five days in Pagosa Springs, Colorado preparing the main lodge and guest lodge for 30 Summit Semester students. I drove down to Pagosa with my dear friend, Allison, who kept exclaiming at the majestic peaks we encountered along the way. I kept going on about how green everything was.

One evening I spent about 45 minutes laying under the vast sky and the Milky Way, thick with stars... It captivated my breath and imagination. Yet not the way if often had. There was a constant humming sound, my thoughts were too scattered to bring real conversation with the Creator, it wasn't quite perfect.

Friday morning, before we left for Manitou, I took a long walk up the forest access road into the National Forest. Things quickly became less perfect. Two tanker trucks rumbled past me. The constant sound of distant machinery grated against my ability to pray. I rounded a bend, expecting the noise and trucks to be related to eager hunters.

Wrong. Dead wrong. A bivouac of campers met my eyes. Pick-up trucks and tankers were clustered 'round. A deep gash in the earth made a massive ditch. Three huge silos jutted into the sky. Taller still was the biggest oil drill I have ever seen. A murky sludge was gushing into a holding area. The noise in the midst of pristine Beauty was unbearable. I couldn't decide weather to glare or burst into tears. Once I was safely passed I chose the latter.

"They are ruining my forest!" I fumed to myself. "Stripping the woods of their silence, some animals of their homes." You might see how silly it is that I would think a forest could be owned, and more ridiculous still that I might own it. But this is a particularly special section of land. I am familiar with it. In many ways I do feel some claim to it. Its Beauty has drawn my mind to the LORD so many times. Its stillness has given place to some grand thoughts, deep prayers, and hearty conversations.

What would not come before came. I began to pray. I realized that I was making Beauty an idol. The LORD opened my eyes to see that the fall broke Beauty. Yet brokenness is not the end. The Father began to show me that Beauty thrown into chaos could go three ways: it could be discarded, repaired, or remade.

Repairing Beauty would mean putting all the pieces back just the way it was at the beginning. Remade meant taking the pieces and making them into something even more Beautiful. Suddenly, redemption was everywhere I looked. The loud drilling was still there. The silos weren't swallowed by a crack in the earth. But redemption was possible, none-the-less.

The bush next to me was a picture of redemption: it had long thorns, red berries, and cheery green leaves. The thorns were an obvious reminder of the curse in Genesis 3, the berries of sacrificial blood, the leaves of new life. One day thorns and thistles will cease to infest the world. One day we will see the earth fully redeemed, no longer groaning under the curse. Last week that day hadn't arrived. Sadly, it hasn't come this week either. But the Day is coming. Redemption will make things more Beautiful than they were in the beginning.

Praise to You, O Christ!

~ Johanna

This and That

2010-08-23T18:45:00.004-06:00

Oh me, oh life! That I exist... And that I exist at Summit.

So Whitman didn't say it quite that way. None-the-less, I feel it my duty to post a brief update on life.

After Summit TN I drove 25 hours total from TN to IN to KS to CO. It was a grand adventure. About 12 hours after I arrived in Colorado I flew to Wisconsin to staff at the first ever Summit North/Wisconsin session. It was beautiful. The students were great. I LOVED my small group!

After many hours in the Milwaukee airport, I finally landed in Denver. One of the guys that I staffed with in WI picked me up and we drove to Manitou. On our way we saw a magnificent sunset (a rarity in Colorado), listened to chill music, and watched the moon rise. It was nice and relaxing before jumping headlong in to session 8 here in Colorado.

I think the LORD has much to teach me this session and in the weeks to follow. You see, today I got crabby. I wanted to be by myself with a cup of tea and a letter. I wanted a shower. I wanted silence... Instead I worked nearly 7 hours straight; got SOAKED in freezing cold rain at Garden of the gods; missed lunch entirely... But did shower.

Oh to have asked the LORD to teach me humility and self-sacrifice! What was I thinking? He is faithful to answer. I don't like myself much when I'm put to the test.

Send us now into the world in peace, and grant us strength and courage to love and serve You with gladness and singleness of heart; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

~ Johanna

Post Script: Please send me mail!

Jody (Staff)
C/O The Summit
P. O. Box 207
Manitou Springs, CO 80829

A man’s heart plans his way..

2010-07-13T20:43:00.011-06:00

...but the LORD directs his steps."

So says Proverbs 16:9. I planned my steps before the summer began, but the LORD redirected them... And re-directed them again.

Since I didn't get hired at Summit East I ended up visiting friends in IN, OH, and MI. I began volunteering at the local Pregnancy Care Center. I offered my help for Bible school at church. I had time to read books. I had time to hear God.

Then I received a few re-directions in my steps. One call offered me a staff position at Summit's brand new session in WI (Aug 8-20), another was a last minute plea for help for Session II in TN.

As of today, most of the Summit prep homework is done; the laundry is in the dryer. The windshield wipers, headlight, oil, and spark plugs on my car have been changed, mostly by me, dad coached me through and had to change the back spark plugs. Volunteering for the Pregnancy Care Center wrapped up today, as did my time volunteering at Bible school. One more day to pack (for TN and my move back to Colorado - yikes!) and finish homework - then off I head to Tennessee early Thursday morning!

You know, if I had arrived in Indiana planning to work Summit East, I probably wouldn't have volunteered at the Pregnancy Care Center. I may not have visited some of the people that I did. I wouldn't have gotten involved with my Indiana church very much. My reading time would have been redirected, which would have been terrible - trust me, I needed to read all of those Elisabeth Elliot books! I would have finished my homework sooner (hm, that would have been good). God knew what it would take for me to accomplish those things and to go to Summit.

The LORD re-directed my way, then led me back to the path I originally thought I would be walking. Isn't He kind? He would still be just as kind if I hadn't been offered a position at Summit this summer. He is so Wonderful, I can hardly begin to describe it. His generosity, graciousness, tough love, and kindness to even me are all so overwhelming that I want to cry. He is so good to us. Let us not forget that.

~ Johanna

P. S. If you would like to send me mail before July 30th, my address is:

My Name
C/O the Summit at Bryan College
721 Bryan Drive
Box 7812
Dayton, TN 37321

The best things in life...

2010-07-10T13:11:00.006-06:00

...Are learned, not bought.

New spark plugs (1st change in 104,000 mi), new oil and filtre = less than $50.

Being able to change the spark plugs and oil = priceless. Thanks Dad!

New windshield wipers and a replacement headlight for the cracked one, then TN and CO here I come!

To be Redeemed from Fire by Fire

2010-07-09T21:51:00.015-06:00

LITTLE GIDDING - IV
T. S. Eliot

The dove descending breaks the air 
With flame of incandescent terror 
Of which the tongues declare 
The one discharge from sin and error. 
The only hope, or else despair 
Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre— 
To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.
 Love is the unfamiliar Name 
Behind the hands that wove 
The intolerable shirt of flame 
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire *
Consumed by either fire or fire.

(*Suspire: to draw a long deep breath; to sigh.)

I have a confession: I have never liked T. S. Eliot. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock spoiled Eliot for me. C. S. Lewis's dislike for his work doomed him. Thus, I have never read what many consider some of Eliot's best works: the Four Quartets.

Tonight I was browsing books at Barnes and Nobel. How I managed to not buy at least three books is beyond me. I'm a cheapskate, I guess. The inscription page of one of the books had the above section of Little Gidding neatly typed there.

No, I didn't fall in love with Eliot. But something burned in my imagination. I saw a picture painted by those words. I saw a dove, tongues of fire, God's purifying fire saving one from hell fire. It occurred to me: God uses fire, satan uses fire. God uses the right amounts for testing, for burning off our impurities. Satan uses fire as torment, pain for the sake of pain. It is the same thing -fire- but wielded very differently based on the attitude of the one holding it.

Who then devised the torment? Love. Oooh, haven't I just written about this very thing? It is Love Who puts us in the fires of purification for our good and His glory. It is Love Who allows pain - if it makes us like His dear Son. It is Love Who cannot bear to leave us as we are, but prunes us, redeems us by His very blood.

Interestingly, I was out with two amazing ladies when I discovered this poem. Our conversation in the "Spirituality/Religion" section at Barnes and Nobel centered on, "This is where I am in life, but I don't like it." Sparks are flying, embers glowing. Mhmm, you are in the Master's furnace. He's making you better than you were. He's forging you into something you couldn't possibly be if you weren't hardened (strengthened) by the fire. Though it hurts will you let God's fire consume you?

We only live, only suspire 
Consumed by either fire or fire.

~ Johanna

2010-07-09T21:40:00.004-06:00

AND since it is of thy mercy, O gracious Father, that another day is added to our lives; We here dedicate both our souls and our bodies to thee and thy service, in a sober, righteous, and godly life: in which resolution, do thou, O merciful God, confirm and strengthen us; that, as we grow in age, we may grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

BUT, O God, who knowest the weakness and corruption of our nature, and the manifold temptations which we daily meet with; We humbly beseech thee to have compassion on our infirmities, and to give us the constant assistance of thy Holy Spirit; that we may be effectually restrained from sin, and incited to our duty. Imprint upon our hearts such a dread of thy judgments, and such a grateful sense of thy goodness to us, as may make us both afraid and ashamed to offend thee. And, above all, keep in our minds a lively remembrance of that great day, in which we must give a strict account of our thoughts, words, and actions to him whom thou hast appointed the Judge of quick and dead, thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

New Owl City Album!

2010-07-05T17:41:00.005-06:00

*Sigh* I really want the new (old) Owl City album: Sky Sailing. Anyone want to pre-buy it on iTunes for me? Please and thank you.

Friendship

2010-07-02T19:57:00.006-06:00

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. "
~ C. S. Lewis

I quote Lewis on this particular point after yet another phone call with my best friend. She has been in on her fair share of phone calls from me in her lifetime. To count such calls would be like numbering the stars or the ever changing number of hairs on our red heads.

Brittany and I have known one another for at least 11 years. That means we've seen each other through our worst moments - also known as high school. We've seen the good, the bad, and the bed-head after sleepovers. (Oy, and those wretched plaid shirts I used to sport!)

Without Brittany my understanding of the LORD would be quite different. I might miss His grace and compassion. I might not understand what Scripture means when it says "A friend loveth at all times..." or "Forgive as God in Christ forgave you."

"Friendship is an obstetric art; it draws out our richest and deepest resources; it unfolds the wings of our dreams and hidden indeterminate thoughts; it serves as a check on our judgments, tries out our new ideas, keeps up our ardor, and inflames our enthusiasm."
~ A. G. Sertillanges

There have been graduations, commissionings, Summit days, Steak and Shake hats at midnight, fireworks, book conventions, awkward statements (those would be mine, oops), hysterical laughs, bitter tears, disappointments, hopes, fears, let downs, inspirations, on-line chats for hours, and of course, those aforementioned phone calls.

Sometimes it can be easy to forget what you have until it's gone. I have discovered that too many times in my life. This time I'm thankful for what I have: a best friend through thick and thin.

Today I praise the LORD for Brittany.

Love,
Jody

Why Does Love Feel Like Death?

2010-06-23T22:32:00.010-06:00

Perhaps because it is sometimes.

Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in [our] protection from suffering.

The Love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy. It never denies reality. It stands in the very teeth of suffering.

The Love of God did not protect His own Son...

...He will not necessarily protect us - not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.
~ Elisabeth Elliot
{Passion and Purity, Pg 84}

So God is love. He is the Love that many persons abuse, saying "If God is love then I should be happy." Or "I should have this or that." Oh no, because God is Love you shan't have this or that; you will live on caster oil, weekly baths, early bedtime, early rising, hours of prayer on your knees, and learning how to deal with annoying so-and-so.

Love does not protect us from everything, certainly not hardship and difficulty. Love allows trials in order to make us like Christ Jesus Himself. It is Love which desires our best, not what is easy. It is Love that calls for discipline when we sin, for discipleship as a way of life. It is Love that won't let us "get away with murder" - or gossip, or slander, or lust, or white lies, or anything else we pass off as "minor sin".

Oh God, why do You have to love me? It hurts so much!

No wait, He doesn't have to love me. He chooses to. And I choose to attempt loving Him back, though my efforts are feeble. My love for Him is not a correcting, consuming fire (how can the imperfect creation be the standard for the perfect Creator?). Instead, my love is humble gratitude for His patience with me, for His desire to not leave me as I am, for His willingness to redeem me with the blood of His own Son.

Oh Love, You feel like death because you prune wickedness out of my heart! Oh Love, Your sharp shears clip selfishness off at the root over and over again! Oh Love, You cannot leave me wild and overgrown like You found me. You carefully prune and tame me, cleaning dirty branches, clipping others, shearing some off completely. By helping me say "no" to the bondage of sin I am free to live righteously. In obedience there is freedom. In discipline and trimming there is order and life.

What feels like death is death, and yet it is life, too. What a paradox and great mystery. What painful kindness of Him called Love.

~ Johanna

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

2010-06-13T16:34:00.003-06:00

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;

As tumbled over rim in roundy wells

Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's

Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:

Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;

Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,

Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;

Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;

Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is —

Christ — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not His

To the Father through the features of men's faces.

2010-06-11T17:17:00.002-06:00

"We were made not primarily that we may love God [though we were made for that too] but that God may love us, that we may become objects in which the Divine love may rest 'well pleased'.

To ask that God's love should be content with us as we are is to ask that God should cease to be God: because He is what He is, His love must, in the nature of things, be impeded and repelled by certain stains in our present character, and because He already loves us He must labour to make us lovable."

~ C. S. Lewis ~

The Problem of Pain, Chapter 3

2010-05-31T21:28:00.005-06:00

"The reason most people fail instead of succeed, is that they trade what they want most for what they want at the moment."

~ Anonymous

At Any Cost

2010-05-27T20:18:00.007-06:00

"AND since it is of Thy mercy,

O gracious Father, that another day is added to our lives;
We here dedicate both our souls and our bodies to Thee and Thy service,
in a sober, righteous, and Godly life:
in which resolution, do Thou, O merciful God, confirm and strengthen us;
that, as we grow in age, we may grow in grace,
and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. ~ Amen."
(1828 Book of Common Prayer, Morning Prayers)

"And since it is of Thy mercy...We here dedicate both our souls and our bodies to Thee and Thy service..."

Ever feel like God is repeating something to you no matter where you turn? In my life the past couple of weeks the theme has been sacrificing my thoughts, time, emotions, heart, desires, relationships, hopes, fears, my whole LIFE to Him. I copied the following prayer into my journal and the front cover of my Bible:

"LORD, I give up all my own plans and purposes,
all my own desires and hopes and accept Thy will for my life.
I give myself, my life, my all, utterly to Thee to be Thine forever.
Fill me and seal me with Thy Holy Spirit.
Use me as Thou wilt, send me where Thou wilt,
and work out Thy whole will in my life at any cost now
and forever."

~Betty Scott Stam~

The line in bold has me troubled: at any cost. I began reading The Cost of Discipleship by Bonhoeffer at the end of last year. He said a similar thing: if we are disciples of Christ Jesus it will cost us everything. Are we ready to pay the price? Am I ready to pay that price?

At any cost. Am I willing to root out sin in my life? Am I going to sacrifice friendships, family, even marriage? Will I offer up my hopes, dreams, and desires? Will I lay down my very life for the sake of Jesus Christ?

Well, how much do I love Jesus? Do I love Him more than my sin? Is He my desire above all others? Really? Would I give up my independence, Colorado, the familiar and the adventures in life? Do I love Him? Or do I want my own way more than His? Do I really think my choices, likes and dislikes, plans, and steps are better than His? Do I love Him enough to let go of them and find out? Do I love Him?

What price am I willing to pay? Something higher than most Christians offer? A very high price? Everything?

Everything...

He doesn't ask us to follow Him at a high price. He didn't pay a high price for us. He paid the highest price. He demands the highest payment. Not because He is cruel or egocentric, but because He is just, He is worthy, He loves us. Do we love Him? Do I love Him?

Do I love Him enough to give Him everything? Enough to answer His call? Enough to be obedient to His commands? Enough to be called a disciple? Isn't it all or nothing? Why try to live somewhere between those options?

I admit, there are far too many rhetorical questions in the above lines. Far too much is assumed or open-ended.

There are many hard questions there.
I know what the answers should be.
I wonder how my life will actually answer them...

~ Johanna

Story of my life...

2010-05-26T07:44:00.003-06:00

She's no good for me
I know that she's a wild flower
She's got a restlessness
A beautifulness, a thing about her
But here I am again calling her back
Letting her drive me crazy

It's like I love this pain a little too much
Love my heart all busted up
Something 'bout her, we just don't work
But I can't walk away
It's like I love this pain

It's just an on again
And off again situation
It's just striking a match
A tank of gas combination
But here I am again lighting it up
Knowing that she'll just burn me

... ... ... ... ...

Something 'bout her, we just don't work
But I can't walk away
It's like I love this pain
Oh yeah, it's like I love this pain
I can't walk away, oh no
It's like I love this pain

.::Love This Pain - Lady Antebellum::.

(The lyrics would be about me, of course... I'm "her" too often.)

The Good Ol' Summertime

2010-05-24T20:36:00.005-06:00

Have you ever taken the time to listen to a chorus of tree frogs while watching the moon rise? Perhaps you don't live in a place that affords this luxury. In that case, you are probably missing another key element of the quintessential Summer evening: lightening bugs. Next you'll be clamoring that you don't have local outdoor ice cream stands, drive-in movies, cornfields, and you've never smelled the sweet scent of freshly mowed hay. You will tell me that the indispensable sights, sounds, and scents of summer are sunscreen, salt water, and grilling. I'll agree with the grilling one at least.

It's funny how our growing up experiences solidify in our minds what a season is or is not like. Thunder, lightening, and the fresh smell of rain are fundamental to late Spring and early Summer in the Midwest. But what if you grew up in the desert or by the sea? You would miss the wind blowing through the wheat fields illuminated by scores of fireflies. Yet what do I not know as familiar? The waves upon the shore, the moon trailing over the water, the sharp cry of gulls winging their way home at night. These are foreign to my understanding of "normal".

Isn't it wonderful that God created various landscapes? Isn't it marvelous that we have different perspectives based on how and where we were raised? Isn't it splendid that we are not all cast from the same mold? God is creative; ingenious, really. That, of course, is an understatement. God's ingenuity and imagination surpass the most vivid colours of the ocean and its inhabitants, or the wildflowers in a meadow, or persons on the streets of New York. Can you picture the grand adventure of Heaven? Perhaps there will be new sounds, tastes, colours, dimensions, and other things I cannot yet conceive.

Where are these thoughts going? Good question... I really just wanted to write about tree frogs and fireflies. I wanted to capture at least a snapshot of the Beauty I experienced on my walk this evening. Words can paint neat pictures in our minds at times, but they cannot beat being there. To be in that place in that lighting with that smell...

No, words cannot come close to touching reality. But Oh! Words can make our imaginations soar, cause our hearts to swell, and lead us to Beauty. They have a different power, another role and purpose. We need both the experience and the words to describe it. We need to communicate (even if only to ourselves) all of the things our senses perceive. One cannot replace the other, it is a necessary union.

~ Johanna

Be All There

2010-05-19T12:14:00.002-06:00

"Wherever you are be all there.
Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God."
~ Jim Elliot

This quotation has been one that I refer back to often in life. Especially when I might not like exactly where I am...

Today finds me at my parent's house in Indiana under grey skies. I could feel miserable (and have, off and on, since arriving). I could throw a pity party. I could spiral into depression. But what will I gain from such things? What will those around me gain from that? Won't I be depleting them if I act that way? How does feeling sorry about my situation serve the LORD? Isn't He worthy of praise in spite of my feelings? If this is where He has put me, shouldn't I choose to learn from this place?

Yesterday I began to re-read Let Me Be A Woman by Elisabeth Elliot. In chapter 10 she makes these profound statements:

"The stages of their [the Israelites] journey,
dull and eventless as most of them were,
were each a necessary part of the movement
toward the fulfillment of the promise.

Single life may be only a stage of a life's
journey, but even a stage is a gift.
God may replace it with another gift,
but the receiver accepts His gifts with
thanksgiving.
This gift for this day.

The life of faith is lived one day at a time,
and it has to be lived - not always looked
forward to as though the "real" living were
just around the corner.

It is today for which we are responsible.
God still owns tomorrow."
~ Elisabeth Elliot

Yes, God still owns tomorrow. He owns the rest of my summer. He knows why I am not working at Summit East this summer. He knows what He wants to teach me and tell me, today, and in the upcoming weeks. I need a hearing heart and listening ears. I need to remember that even if these weeks are seemingly eventless, they are still part of the journey.

My prayer comes from Psalm 37:4-5 --

"Delight yourself also in the LORD,
and He shall give you the desires [your heart should have].
Commit your way to the LORD,
trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass."

~ Johanna ~

Bread and Button-Holes...

2010-04-20T11:54:00.005-06:00

Oh how I love practical thinking and simple living! I have been completely ensconced in Louisa May Alcott's Eight Cousins: Or Aunt Hill this week (click the link, you can read the whole book on-line for free!).

Reading of Rose's lessons in bread making, I was inspired to improve my domestic skills. All fall I had been planning to learn the art of bread making. A few tips here and there were given, I even made pretzels with some friends to start the process... Yet "real" bread had never been attempted. Deciding not to leave Colorado without at least one attempt, I tried my hand at the process yesterday.

Now let me tell you, my last attempt at yeast rolls resulted in little rock-solid things. They were kindly eaten, but they were a disastrous failure. Yesterday I threw out my first attempt with the yeast, feeling the water wasn't warm enough. After which, the Lord smiled upon my little domestic endeavours. The loaf of oat/whole wheat bread rose to a little round dome. The first rising of the yeast rolls happily doubled. I even remembered the tip I read about kneading the dough and pinching it off into rounds. Twelve puffy balls of dough rose gracefully in the pan. A dozen brown, warm, amazing-smelling rolls came out of the oven after 15 minutes.

I felt like a bread-making queen. Oh yes, I'm an expert now... Or not. But I certainly felt that way!

Next, I suppose I should learn how to sew button-holes (or in general; my hand-stitching is so slow and inconsistent) like Rose did in the book (see page 178 to read of her adventures). Hm, my lack of skill in button-holes is bringing me back down to reality after the bread success.

Today holds new adventures, I'm sure... I'd best get to them!

~ Johanna

With the Rising of the Sun

2010-04-18T16:24:00.007-06:00

"From the rising of the sun to its going down
The LORD’s name is to be praised."
~ Psalm 113:3

My alarm chirped at 4:30am on Thursday. Yes, I told it to impede my slumber, to return me from the land of Nod to the land of reality. I donned jeans and a sweatshirt, and headed off to the airport with my neighbour. Above us, constellations shone brightly before their nightly dance was whisked away by the daystar. When we pulled up to the airport, the Eastern sky was turning a tell-tale grey.

The drive home went quickly, followed by a (nearly forgotten) jaunt to the post office box. I had left an English muffin in the toaster and an egg in the pan (the burner was off!) in order to beat the postman at 6:15. Chilly morning air beckoned me up a historic street to see the Spring flowers. Then I walked to an overlook to watch the sun crest the low-lying foothills.

Liquid gold spilled across the horizon, like ink toppled on a table. I turned to look West and my next breath caught in my throat. Pike's Peak was backed by the last of the night sky, its hoary head now gleaming as burnished copper. Ordinary red dirt on the foothills was transformed into fiery paths, coupled with glowing pines. My gaze swung back to the source of life-giving light. There he was, the sleepyhead sun blinking his great eye.

Freezing fingers compelled me to trot home, finish preparing my half-made breakfast, and move on with my day. But stiff hands could not quell swirling thoughts. "The sun shines on everything, giving it life." "No, no, Beauty." "Perhaps both." "God does that." Stop. Repeat? "God does that." Thoughts moving at light-speed began running down this track. To save you from wading through my scattered thoughts, I will corral them for you.

What if our lives are like mountains, red dirt, lilting flowers, shaggy pines, splashing streams, - all brought to life when the sun shines upon them? Sure, the analogy isn't perfect - some of those things had "life" or Beauty before the sun shined upon them. Our lives do not. We are a lump of clay, scattered rock, stagnant pools. When God shines His glory upon us, the reflection is Beautiful. Life and order are imparted. As sure as a life is illuminated, our gaze is drawn to the Source of light, the Origin of glory. If we reflect the glory of God, those who see us will look for Him. How kind of the LORD to remind us of such lessons every day with the rising of the sun!

~ Johanna

One Clear Call for Me

2010-04-13T13:32:00.002-06:00

"Sunset and Evening Star,
And one clear call for me..."

...To write. To cherish things past. To long for dusty pages of well bound tomes. To appreciate paper, ink, and the dripping wax of the candle on my desk.

Who am I? I am a keeper of things past. A guardian who will not allow ancient words to be forgotten. Tennyson and Wordsworth, Locke and Burke: their words and ideas have long shaped us. Saint Paul, the Creeds and Confessions: longer still have they chiseled our hearts and minds. Luther and Erasmus, too, gave the common man tools to analyze texts, and set the Scriptures in his own tongue.

Tongue. Language, words, expression, speech, thoughts... These are a beacon to arouse and alarm, to humble and bless, to bewilder and charm. Words express ideas, they must be carefully chosen, wrought into concise thought. Ideas must be worthy of being spoken, penned, or taught.

Eloquence and rhetoric have been pushed aside for the caustic inarticulation of postmodernism. Words have been uprooted, their meanings changed or stolen.

"Twilight and evening bell
And after that the dark!"

A twilight on words and Beauty? Does "Beauty" even make sense if meaning is given by the hearer? My head lifts in hope: yes. Words have objective meaning. Poetry and prose intend what the author seeks to convey.

Long after darkness falls, grey meets the East. Light streaks along the horizon, licking the clouds like a tongue of flame with vibrant oranges, reds, and dazzling golds. Yes! The sun rises after the dark.

I am a keeper of words, a teacher of language. They will LIVE. Another will rise up to take my place, to excel me when I have crossed the bar.

~ Johanna

Ancient Words:

Banquets and Unquestioned Answers

The Discipline of Beauty

You Are My Hiding Place

In Like A Lion...

O Frabjous Day!

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Buried Heart

The Apple of His Eye...

True Love is Costly

What your life says about what you worship...

The True Labour of Love

Twenty-Six Memories

Sword, Arrow, Warrior

And We Are Filled With Joy!

Love is Stronger Than Death

I Will Lift My Eyes...

Morning Light: Double Exposure

Morning Light

Nunc Dimittis: Simeon's Prayer

New Year: Discipleship At Any Cost

The Silent Majority

A Light Has Dawned

Chanukkah: Festival of Lights

What Child is This?

Day of Infamy

This is Home

For the Beauty of the Earth

Snapshots of Life...

Christ Now and Then

Kyrie Eleison

And We Are Filled With Joy...

Stepping Stones

Pressed, but not crushed...

Autumn: Nothing Gold Can Stay

Bearing the Cost

An Arrow in Flight

Exposing the Lies of Lust

Words for Life

"I'm just being honest!"

The Fruit Itself

“Education is only a ladder to gather fruit from the tree of knowledge, not the fruit itself.” ~ Attributed to Einstein

“I've never let my school interfere with my education.” ~ Mark Twain

“The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education.” ~ Einstein

“My education was interrupted only by my schooling” ~ Winston Churchill

Material for Sacrifice

You Come Too: Lessons from Poetry

On Fairy Stories and Innocence

My Academic Reason for Going to Oxford

Reflections and the Blessing of Solitude

Things considered whilst walking in the drizzle

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

Final Day to be 25

Rid Me of Myself

Oxford Life

A New Year, A New Place

86 Venneit CloseChancellor Park - 2bOX1 1HYOxford, UK

Further Up and Further In

Somthing like a Fairytale

The Yellow Cat

Chasing After Beauty

This and That

A man’s heart plans his way..

The best things in life...

To be Redeemed from Fire by Fire

New Owl City Album!

Friendship

Why Does Love Feel Like Death?

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

At Any Cost

Story of my life...

The Good Ol' Summertime

Be All There

Bread and Button-Holes...

With the Rising of the Sun

One Clear Call for Me

86 Venneit Close
Chancellor Park - 2b
OX1 1HY
Oxford, UK