Thirty

It is getting late, as I tuck in a full day, the wind wrestling its way 'round my cabin. Snuggled under the blankets, I think back on the day... I awoke in the golden arms of the sunrise, a day older. A year older. A decade older. It is not often that these round milestones are placed in our palms, slipped into the pockets of our lives. They are a gift, marking a still moment to pause and reflect on the many hours and days that have built the last ten-year span. 

I wonder if I have used my first day in my thirties well. I question if I invested the days of my twenties wisely. Things did not go according to my plans this day, but they rarely do. Still, there were sweet gifts, surprise phone calls, dinner and ice cream with friends... There were cards, full of life-giving words, penned by some of my dearest friends. Words of hope and kindness. Inspiration to live worthy of my calling to display the Beauty of the Lord and His holiness. One note, with bold, black ink-words proclaimed—approximately—"Don’t be impatient. Wait for the Lord, and he will come and save you! Be brave, stouthearted, and courageous. Yes, wait and he will help you."*

Brave. I taste this word on my palate as if it has never escaped my lips before. As one who comes knowing that God is my Light and Salvation, I need not fear, I have only to be brave in His strength. Stouthearted. This reminds me of wholehearted, a word I have been meditating upon in the last few weeks. Yet stouthearted is nuanced differently. It implies one who will not falter in battle, who will bear up under trials. Yes, this is something I desire.

The last triplet-word rises before me: Courageous. I think of the many persons I know who have the courage to get up every morning, to live a life they did not—would not—choose. They bear the marks, the cost, of another's choices. It must take whole oceans of courage in their veins to to stand firm each day, I think. My life is not shaped by such trials. Do I, too, need courage? New Covenant words flit into my mind: For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.* Yes, I need courage! Though I live under this present darkness, I take courage in the words, The LORD is my light and my Salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the Stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?*

Who knows what the upcoming days of my thirties will hold? I do not know the mile-marking joys and sorrows to come, and I am glad. I would become impatient or burdened knowing that such things were ahead still. What I do know, as I listen to the wind howl and pull my quilt closer, is that every day will bring its 'dailyness'. There will be dishes to wash, laundry to fold, books to mail at work, food to be made and enjoyed, friends to hug, smiles to give and receive, and prayers shot like arrows toward Heaven throughout the day. There will be songs to sing, children to hold, hands to hold, sorrows to bear. There will be sharp words when I lose sight of Kindness. There will be life-giving words from the Spirit of God to breathe into souls. There will be the daily, walking hand-in-hand with the Eternal. In short, there will be the every day I already know, and the every day life that comes with ageing bones and bodies.

Daily dishes, rote words of liturgy, or our own stale thoughts can seem dull, mindless, and lifeless. But when Christ, Who is our life, breathes daily into us, we surge with liquid life. Much like Aslan in the Narnia stories breathes upon creatures turned to stone, restoring their life, Christ restores meaning and joy in our quotidian moments. Folding laundry becomes built-in prayer time. Liturgy becomes the rhythm of life, keeping us in step in the Great Dance. God infuses our listless, rutted thoughts with new perspective—gained from friends, new-to-us books, a song, or by simply opening our eyes to Scriptures we have seen a thousand times, but have not known until now.

Annie Dillard once penned, "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."* If I am aware of God in the midst of soapsuds and repeatedly sliding discs into plastic sleeves, in the writing of words and the sharing a smile; if I breathe out "Lord have mercy" and inhale His mercy, then I am learning life-rich liturgy rooted in Christ. That seems a good way to live a day, a year, a decade...and a life.


_____________

* Psalm 27.14 (TLB)
* Ephesians 6:12 (ESVUK)
* Psalm 27:1 (NKJV)
* Dillard, Annie, The Writing Life (New York: Harper Collins, 2009)

We Are Still Trees

A rook's coarse cry rends the snowy hush of this pearl-grey afternoon. On my desk awaits a piece of crusty, warm, homemade potato bread - liberally spread with butter. My thoughts turn to the brisk walk I enjoyed this morning...

Fine snow blew from every direction. Stinging my eyes, settling on my nose, eyebrows, and hair, it filled my very soul with vibrant life. Along the paths I tread were birds, birds, birds: a flock of  three dozen robins, a brace of red-shafted Northern flickers, a downy woodpecker, and (my favourite) a pair of nuthatches. Drawn by the chatter of birds, I turned into a quiet cul-de-sac, enjoying the view of fast-falling snow upon tall golden grass. Next to that avian sanctuary a line of snow along the trunk of a pine tree caught my gaze. A fir, slanted at a forty-degree angle from earth. How had I not seen it before? 

I paused my forward motion to drink in the sight, to ponder this tree's perseverance. Like other trees, it grew straight and up. Unlike other trees, it did so at an angle, rather than perpendicular to the ground. Some hardship or radical impact had drastically changed the course of this pine, yet it remained a tree, growing as it ought.

This gave me pause to think on my own life, and the lives of several of my friends. We do not pursue life at the pace of forty-plus hours a week, an MA or DPhil, spouses and children, or numerous other things many consider the mark of a 'normal' person. We pursue the good life from a different angle.

We study both books and persons not for a diploma, but for the sake of challenging our minds and hearts. We work as a means to keep our lights and heat on, to put food in our cupboards, yes. But we also see work as an end itself, something to be enjoyed; whether it is the work that gives us the funds to put bread on the table, or the work of making the bread to put on that table. When we do not have spouses and children of our own, we learn instead to enjoy the time spent with married couples, children, peers, and those older than we. Being gracious is a continual refining process. Opening my home, pantry, and heart to others takes effort, but the rewards are bountiful. 

 My friends and I are humans, cultivating life, growing as we ought: toward God, with others,  while stewarding the gifts (physical, mental, emotional) given by Providence. Though we desire and seek things that other persons do, we are often seen as 'not normal', because we seek those things differently. We desire friendship, enjoy Beauty, find work cathartic,  want to enrich our minds, etc., like any healthy human being ought. Yet those of us who undertake to live fully are seen as stumps, as compared with growing trees.

The fact is, we are much like that fir tree, growing upward and in a linear direction, but at an angle. We are still trees, still growing as we were designed to grow. Our position relative to the ground has simply changed due to hardship or a radical impact... But we are still trees.

~ Johanna

Admonishing Our Souls

Do you ever have to remind yourself to calm down in a stressful situation? Have you spoken out loud to help your heart listen to the truth? Do you ever call a close friend to process something you are going through?

I will admit that I have done all of these things. I have to speak out loud to myself sometimes to  remember that I am not the only person stressed or angry about a problem. I have to tell myself not to believe the lies that I am defined by my intellect or looks. In fact, I must tell myself large doses of truth: that I am defined by being made in God's image, I am defined by God Himself.

In the Psalms, the sons of Korah admonished their souls as well. They exhorted themselves with the truth that God was still their salvation, even when they were depressed.

As a deer pants for flowing streams,

so pants my soul for you, O God. 

My soul thirsts for God,

for the living God.

When shall I come and appear before God? 

My tears have been my food day and night,

while they say to me all the day long,

“Where is your God?” 

These things I remember,

as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng

and lead them in procession to the house of God
with glad shouts and songs of praise,

a multitude keeping festival. 

Why are you cast down, O my soul,

and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him,

my Salvation and my God.
(Psalm 42.1-5)

Many persons look at verse one and think that the sons of Korah are so in love with God that they cannot get enough of Him. Yet the next two verses clearly show they are longing for God because they are sorrowful, depressed, and no longer have the gladness that caused them to lead others to worship God. They state the problem explicitly. 

Yet the sons of Korah do not wallow in their depression. Nor do they act happy-go-lucky, as if they have no grief or turmoil.  They do something far better than either of these common pitfalls: they reminds their souls of truth. These descendants of Korah admonish their minds, wills, and emotions, asking themselves why they are downcast. Then they speak hope to themselves: do not worry, we will yet again praise God. It might not be today, but a time is coming when we will praise God, Who is our salvation. 

There are days when we must admonish our own souls to praise God. There are times when we have to remind ourselves to bless God. To bless God means "to consecrate, make holy, give thanks, to speak well of, to praise, to bend the knee, to worship, to invoke blessings". Some days we must tell ourselves "Bless the LORD O my soul!", as David did later in the Psalms:

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

and all that is within me,

bless His holy name! 

 Bless the Lord, O my soul,

and forget not all His benefits,

Who forgives all your iniquity,

Who heals all your diseases, 

Who redeems your life from the pit,

Who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, 

Who satisfies you with good

so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.
(Psalm 103.1-3)

Recently, three dear friends of mine all had a grandparent die (two had funerals Christmas week). When I was home for Christmas, I saw how much my own grandma's memory is beginning to fail. She is my last living grandparent, and realising that she may not be able to live on her own much longer (she is 93, and quite active) has been hard. Knowing that life is fragile has been weighing on my heart. Seeing the state of our economy, presidential administration, and the lack of logic or understanding in the general public has depressed my soul. I am tempted to fret, to despair, to  see only loss. 

At these precise moments I must remember the kindness of the LORD, His benefits, that He has filled my soul with good things, how He has redeemed me, that He gives me Love and mercy, how He is my strength in weakness. I must speak truth to my soul, and I must admonish myself to bless God. He alone is worthy of all praise and glory, forever and ever. Amen.

A Golden Jubilee

Fifty years is a long time for many things, including having a solid marriage and running a successful business where the president himself is not above fixing sewer lines.

Tonight, Summit folks spent the evening talking about how much Doc and Mrs. Noebel mean to us, and the un-imagined impact their service, wisdom, grace, knowledge, and kindness have had on thousands and thousands of persons. Just today I heard at least two people say that they came to know Jesus because of Summit, and dozens more met their spouses somehow through Summit. I think several thousand persons can easily say that Summit has helped them learn how to be a thinking Christian, one who can reason through why they believe and behave the way they do. 

God could have used anyone to accomplish this purpose, if that 'anyone' were willing, humble, and self-sacrificing.  The truth is, the LORD knew that Doc needed a dedicated, disciplined, servant-hearted, kind, gracious wife to support him. God knew that the right man to begin Summit was one who was witty, intelligent, humble, soft-hearted and tough-minded, and who was willing to do every job at a 100 year old hotel in quirky Manitou Springs. 

When I think how many hundreds of people would gladly come clean toilets here just to be in and around the Summit community, my perspective about my job shifts. I am incredibly blessed to work for Summit. I would not be who I am today if I had not attended the two-week course, Summit Semester, and Summit Oxford. Nor would I have daily lessons in humility if I did not  labour alongside persons who really care about one another -- both at work and personally. 

Due to my time at Summit I am a better thinker, a more well-rounded reader, and I have known the love and discipline of Christ in ways I had no capacity to experience before. I have been stretched out of my comfort zone, been challenged to do hard things,  and been given opportunities to study, travel, and know more that I thought possible. I have met my best friends and kindred spirits through Summit. In fact, I have had more than just three or four very close friends in my very brief lifetime, all because of Summit.

Doc and Mrs. Noebel, Rich and Sherry Honken, Jeff and Danielle Myers, and the whole group of staff (past and present) continually show me what servant-hearted leadership is.  Because of Summit I know Jesus more - and I love Jesus more. I am who I am because God led me to Summit Ministries. I am one of so many who can say that... Because Summit is not about whoever is at the helm; it is, at its core, about knowing Jesus (with both our head and our heart), and sharing His love with others.

Tonight's jubilee was golden not only because Summit is fifty years old, but because there is a golden richness to all that God has done through Summit. When most of our culture is not thinking beyond tomorrow, those whom God has called to lead the Summit are thinking about the next fifty years and  impacting multiple generations after that.

 

May the LORD be glorified and His name be lifted high because of what is done here. "The LORD has done great things for us, and we are filled with JOY."

~ Johanna

 

  

(Special thanks to Lauren and Nicole for doing my hair, to Lyndi for the mascara loan, and to Stacia for lending me lip gloss for the evening gala. It was a full roommate collaboration - success!)

New Year: Discipleship At Any Cost

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

Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places

"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

Why Does Love Feel Like Death?

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

With the Rising of the Sun

"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