I love when a pastor, professor, friend, or my Lord forces me to examine something big and complex! But I dislike sharing an idea until I'd managed to complete my wrestling match with it. I don't believe this is a case of pride; rather, it's a case of caution and humility. As your sister in Christ, I want to offer you the best I have at this point in time. I would not be serving you well otherwise.
I don't know about you, but I really like what the Lord has been teaching me through "Deaf and Dumb." There's so much I want to share! I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts, too. However, I think this series is something I will have to discontinue for the moment and pick up later. I get the feeling there's more He needs to teach me before I can articulate this piece well for you. I am certain that the two part I have already shared needed to be presented at this time, though. So just let the Lord's questions grow in your heart, dear reader. Let's both spend some time seeking Him on this issue before we come back together to discuss it further. I'll be praying for you.
In the mean time, I will begin sharing my testimony with you. Once again, I woud greatly appreciate your prayers: for me as I write, and for you as you read.
7.15.2009
7.11.2009
Resting in the Lord...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MGd3Tenpnk
I am praying that He will provide each of you with solace and joy.
I am praying that He will provide each of you with solace and joy.
7.09.2009
Deaf and Dumb--Part 2
My omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent Lord must be either a myth or a relic of the past…such a notion only comes from a fallen world, from broken hearts. All the same, I am grateful to such outspoken thinkers as Philip Pullman.
My dear reader, please reexamine the excerpts quoted earlier. Read them aloud. Speak the words as if these are your own thoughts.
Is it only those who have not surrendered their hearts to the Most High who question the immutability of his nature and authority? Am I Above Reproach? If I can brave the terror of my own heart and mind, I risk discovering that I hold much the same perspective toward God: I, a believer, also face the temptation of presuming God has changed, has lessened.
*******
I decided that I should give you some time to explore this idea with the Lord before we proceed. I look forward to discussing specific areas in which I personally wrestle with this tendency. And I look forward to hearing your thoughts and/or struggles, as well! Much love and many prayers, dear reader.
My dear reader, please reexamine the excerpts quoted earlier. Read them aloud. Speak the words as if these are your own thoughts.
Is it only those who have not surrendered their hearts to the Most High who question the immutability of his nature and authority? Am I Above Reproach? If I can brave the terror of my own heart and mind, I risk discovering that I hold much the same perspective toward God: I, a believer, also face the temptation of presuming God has changed, has lessened.
*******
I decided that I should give you some time to explore this idea with the Lord before we proceed. I look forward to discussing specific areas in which I personally wrestle with this tendency. And I look forward to hearing your thoughts and/or struggles, as well! Much love and many prayers, dear reader.
7.01.2009
Deaf and Dumb--Part 1
In February, I learned of a recent ad campaign. Funded by individual sponsors, the Atheist Bus Campaign utilized tube stations and buses to spread an important message across the British Isles: “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” (A Slice of Infinity, 2/4/09)
Philip Pullman utilizes the well-crafted fantasy world of the His Dark Materials trilogy (including The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) to gradually put forth some similarly disturbing thoughts. Mary Malone, one of the characters from The Amber Spyglass, offers Pullman’s young hero and heroine an expanded version of the Atheist Bus Campaign’s ideology:
“I used to be a nun, you see. I thought physics could be done to the glory of God, till I saw there wasn’t any God at all and that physics was more interesting anyway. The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that’s all….I thought, ‘Will anyone be better off if I go straight back to [my room] and say my prayers and confess to the priest and promise never to fall into temptation again? Will anyone be the better for making me miserable?’ And the answer came back—no. No one will. There’s no one to fret, no one to condemn, no one to bless me for being a good girl, no one to punish me for being wicked. Heaven is empty. I didn’t know whether God had died, or whether there had never been a God at all” (chap 33).
The heart of Pullman’s own particular message begins to surface as one enters the final third of The Amber Spyglass:
“Well, where is God,” said Mrs. Coulter, “if he’s alive? And why doesn’t he speak anymore? At the beginning of the world, God walked in the Garden and spoke with Adam and Eve. Then he began to withdraw, and he forbade Moses to look at his face. Later, in the time of Daniel, he was aged—he was the Ancient of Days. Where is he now? Is he still alive, as some inconceivable age, decrepit and demented, unable to think or act or speak and unable to die, a rotten hulk? And if that is his condition, wouldn’t it be the most merciful thing, the truest proof of our love for God, to seek him out and give him the gift of death?” (chap 24).
Later, the adolescent heroine and hero of Pullman’s trilogy demonstrate that merciful love of which Mrs. Coulter speaks. They stumble upon a heavenly being, an ancient personage of “terrifying decrepitude, of a face sunken in wrinkles, of trembling hands, and of a mumbling mouth and rheumy eyes,” captive within a crystal carrier or litter (chap 30). Moved by the plight of such a pathetic figure, the children free him from the crystal encasement. This pitiful being, no longer capable of speech or thought, “would have followed them anywhere, having no will of his own, and responding to simple kindness like a flower to the sun” (chap 31). But once exposed to the open air, his wizened body cannot withstand the wind’s pull. He begins to dissolve before the children’s eyes; and “their last impression was of those eyes, blinking in wonder, and a sigh of the most profound and exhausted relief” (chap 31). A girl and a boy unwittingly perform the greatest act of kindness humanity can offer: releasing God from his long, enfeebled toil.
Pullman adds further layers to this idea throughout the His Dark Materials trilogy, but the implication is clear: God is hostage to our persistent and unwarranted need of him. No longer essential, the Creator remains trapped in our selfish ignorance.
The pendulum of thought swings back to the Clockmaker Theory, this time with a flavor of moral relativism. If I wish to believe in the existence of God, that’s fine. It’s even possible that there was a God. He may have been instrumental in setting up the world; he may have involved himself with humanity for a time. But he is no longer evident. The God we continue to hold captive to the whims of our own pathetic need is dreadfully advanced in years. He no longer possesses the ability to communicate or direct. He is mute. Speechless. Dumb.
But that’s all right: God is no longer necessary. The cogs and gears work just fine on their own. So why bother God (assuming he ever existed, assuming he exists still)? “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” In essence: “Thanks for the jumpstart, God…if you actually gave us one. But you’re free to go now. We’ll take it from here.” How sad. How arrogant. How frightening.
On behalf of the thousands and millions who will be affected by such a message, I am enraged. “Better to have a millstone hung around your neck and be cast into the sea” than to actively promote such lies. I also find myself sincerely mourning for Mr. Pullman and the sponsors of the Atheist Bus Campaign. My heart breaks under the knowledge that anyone would cling to the hopeless hope of this three-dimensional world. To borrow the imagery of C.S. Lewis, we forge “little scratches in the crust” of Truth, and satisfy ourselves with the lifeless knowledge to be found in our wealth of “dead gold, dead silver, dead gems” (The Silver Chair, chap. 14).
*******
This is the first of what will be at least two or three installments. Where do you think our examination will turn next? And aside from conjectures about the direction of my thoughts, dear reader, what are your own thoughts at this point?
Philip Pullman utilizes the well-crafted fantasy world of the His Dark Materials trilogy (including The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass) to gradually put forth some similarly disturbing thoughts. Mary Malone, one of the characters from The Amber Spyglass, offers Pullman’s young hero and heroine an expanded version of the Atheist Bus Campaign’s ideology:
“I used to be a nun, you see. I thought physics could be done to the glory of God, till I saw there wasn’t any God at all and that physics was more interesting anyway. The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that’s all….I thought, ‘Will anyone be better off if I go straight back to [my room] and say my prayers and confess to the priest and promise never to fall into temptation again? Will anyone be the better for making me miserable?’ And the answer came back—no. No one will. There’s no one to fret, no one to condemn, no one to bless me for being a good girl, no one to punish me for being wicked. Heaven is empty. I didn’t know whether God had died, or whether there had never been a God at all” (chap 33).
The heart of Pullman’s own particular message begins to surface as one enters the final third of The Amber Spyglass:
“Well, where is God,” said Mrs. Coulter, “if he’s alive? And why doesn’t he speak anymore? At the beginning of the world, God walked in the Garden and spoke with Adam and Eve. Then he began to withdraw, and he forbade Moses to look at his face. Later, in the time of Daniel, he was aged—he was the Ancient of Days. Where is he now? Is he still alive, as some inconceivable age, decrepit and demented, unable to think or act or speak and unable to die, a rotten hulk? And if that is his condition, wouldn’t it be the most merciful thing, the truest proof of our love for God, to seek him out and give him the gift of death?” (chap 24).
Later, the adolescent heroine and hero of Pullman’s trilogy demonstrate that merciful love of which Mrs. Coulter speaks. They stumble upon a heavenly being, an ancient personage of “terrifying decrepitude, of a face sunken in wrinkles, of trembling hands, and of a mumbling mouth and rheumy eyes,” captive within a crystal carrier or litter (chap 30). Moved by the plight of such a pathetic figure, the children free him from the crystal encasement. This pitiful being, no longer capable of speech or thought, “would have followed them anywhere, having no will of his own, and responding to simple kindness like a flower to the sun” (chap 31). But once exposed to the open air, his wizened body cannot withstand the wind’s pull. He begins to dissolve before the children’s eyes; and “their last impression was of those eyes, blinking in wonder, and a sigh of the most profound and exhausted relief” (chap 31). A girl and a boy unwittingly perform the greatest act of kindness humanity can offer: releasing God from his long, enfeebled toil.
Pullman adds further layers to this idea throughout the His Dark Materials trilogy, but the implication is clear: God is hostage to our persistent and unwarranted need of him. No longer essential, the Creator remains trapped in our selfish ignorance.
The pendulum of thought swings back to the Clockmaker Theory, this time with a flavor of moral relativism. If I wish to believe in the existence of God, that’s fine. It’s even possible that there was a God. He may have been instrumental in setting up the world; he may have involved himself with humanity for a time. But he is no longer evident. The God we continue to hold captive to the whims of our own pathetic need is dreadfully advanced in years. He no longer possesses the ability to communicate or direct. He is mute. Speechless. Dumb.
But that’s all right: God is no longer necessary. The cogs and gears work just fine on their own. So why bother God (assuming he ever existed, assuming he exists still)? “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” In essence: “Thanks for the jumpstart, God…if you actually gave us one. But you’re free to go now. We’ll take it from here.” How sad. How arrogant. How frightening.
On behalf of the thousands and millions who will be affected by such a message, I am enraged. “Better to have a millstone hung around your neck and be cast into the sea” than to actively promote such lies. I also find myself sincerely mourning for Mr. Pullman and the sponsors of the Atheist Bus Campaign. My heart breaks under the knowledge that anyone would cling to the hopeless hope of this three-dimensional world. To borrow the imagery of C.S. Lewis, we forge “little scratches in the crust” of Truth, and satisfy ourselves with the lifeless knowledge to be found in our wealth of “dead gold, dead silver, dead gems” (The Silver Chair, chap. 14).
*******
This is the first of what will be at least two or three installments. Where do you think our examination will turn next? And aside from conjectures about the direction of my thoughts, dear reader, what are your own thoughts at this point?
6.27.2009
With Fear and Trembling
“Therefore, kings, be wise;
be warned, you judges of the earth.
Serve Adonai with fear;
rejoice, but with trembling.” (Psalm 2:10-11)
“…keep working out your deliverance with fear and trembling, for God is the one working among you both the willing and the working for what pleases him. Do everything without [fretting] or arguing, so that you may be blameless and pure children of God, without defect in the midst of a twisted and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in the sky, as you hold on to the Word of Life.” (Philippians 2: 12b-16a)
Stars who rejoice with fear and trembling… Obedience is deliverance.
I want to cling to the Word of Life with such fervor that His light fills me. How wonderful to be consumed by the blazing radiance that both cauterizes and comforts. How wonderful to rejoice in the glow that blinds to give sight. I want to spend my days trembling in awe as His light shines out from me. How good to reverence the incandescent glory of which I am permitted to communally partake. How good to fear misrepresenting myself as the source of this beauty and power.
Stars who rejoice with fear and trembling… I want that.
Obedience to the Lord can take very different forms. Sometimes we must simply have an attitude of submission (although anyone can attest that submission is not exactly simple); at other times action is required as well. The willing and the working. Obedience is deliverance. We become stars who rejoice with fear and trembling.
One morning, the Lord told me to offer a meeting invitation to an acquaintance. Throughout the day, I prayed repeatedly about this—asking the Holy Spirit to tell me exactly how I should go about fulfilling the Lord’s command. Late in the evening I discovered something: a message sent earlier the same day by this very acquaintance, asking if we could meet. In this case, I simply needed to submit.
Over the past two weeks, the Lord has begun prompting me to share a sizable portion of my personal testimony with you, dear reader. After seeking the council of others, and much time spent in prayer, I am moving forward in obedience through action….with a great deal of fear and trembling. I must request your support right now: please pray! If I am truly obedient to relive events in the manner I am directed to, these posts will not be easy for me to write. And if I submit myself to the detailed examination necessary to write what he has asked of me, these posts will not be easy for you to read. So for both of our sakes, dear reader, please pray! Let’s walk in the brilliant shining of deliverance. Let’s become stars who rejoice with fear and trembling.
6.21.2009
Of Lilies and Sheep, Blessings and Grace
“But where are the flowers?” she said to herself at length.
They were nowhere. Neither on the high trees, nor on the few shrubs that grew here and there amongst them, were there any blossoms; and in the grass that grew everywhere there was not a single flower to be seen…[Rosamond] could not help feeling that flowers were wanted to make the beauty of the forest complete.
Suddenly she came upon a little open glade; and there, on the root of a great oak, sat the loveliest little girl, with her lap full of flowers of all colors, but of such kinds as Rosamond had never before seen. She was playing with them—burying her hands in them, tumbling them about, and every now and then picking one out from the rest, and throwing it away. All the time she never smiled, except with her eyes, which were as full as they could hold with the laughter of the spirit—a laughter which in this world is never heard, only sets the eyes alight with a liquid shining. Rosamond drew nearer, for the wonderful creature would have drawn a tiger to her side, and tamed him on the way. A few yards from her, she came upon one of her cast-away flowers and stooped to pick it up, as well she might where none grew save in her own longing. But to her amazement she found, instead of a flower thrown away to wither, one fast rooted and quite at home. She left it, and went on to another; but it also was fast in the soil, and growing comfortably in the warm grass. What could this mean? One after another she tried, until at length she was satisfied that it was the same with every flower the little girl threw from her lap.
She watched then until she saw her throw one, and instantly bounded to the spot. But the flower had been quicker than she: there it grew, fast fixed in the earth, and, she thought, looked at her roguishly. Something evil moved in her and she plucked it.
“Don’t! don’t!” cried the child. “My flowers cannot live in your hands."
Rosamond looked at the flower. It was withered already. She threw it from her, offended. The child rose, with difficulty keeping her lapful together, picked it up, carried it back, sat down again, spoke to it, kissed it, sang to it—oh! such a sweet, childish little song!—[Rosamond] never could recall a word of it—and threw it away. Up rose its little head, and there it was, busy growing again!
Rosamond’s bad temper soon gave way: the beauty and sweetness of the child had overcome it; and, anxious to make friends with her, she drew near, and said:
“Won’t you give me a little flower, please, you beautiful child?”
“There they are; they are all for you,” answered the child, pointing with her outstretched arm and forefinger all around.
“But you told me, a minute ago, not to touch them.”
“Yes, indeed, I did.”
“They can’t be mine, if I’m not to touch them.”
“If, to call them yours, you must kill them, then they are not yours, and never, never can be yours. They are nobody’s when they are dead.”
“But you don’t kill them.”
“I don’t pull them; I throw them away. I live them.”
“How is it that you make them grow?”
“I say, ‘You darling!’ and throw it away and there it is.”
“Where do you get them?”
“In my lap.”
“I wish you would let me throw one away.”
“Have you got any in your lap? Let me see.”
“No; I have none.”
“Then you can’t throw one away, if you haven’t got one.”
“You are mocking me!” cried [Rosamond].
“I am not mocking you,” said the child, looking her full in the face, with reproach in her large blue eyes.
“Oh, that’s where the flowers come from!” said [Rosamond] to herself, the moment she saw [those eyes], hardly knowing what she meant.
~ George MacDonald, "The Wise Woman, or the Lost Princess."
6.20.2009
I have a request to make of you
It's been too long since the last time I helped serve for a wedding. Back when I worked for this catering company every weekend, my system was perfect. I knew exactly when to disappear. At precisely the right moment, I'd find work that kept me out of sight and earshot of the wedding festivities. But it's been too long; I'm out of practice. So when I helped serve a wedding this evening I had to witness the father/daughter dance. Unfortunately, the DJ this family hired was really good: he didn't waste his most emotionally charged moment on a mediocre song.
My sister and I both made an effort--the most recent in a long series of attempts--to connect with our father this week. We both deliberately skirted the issue of Father's Day; this holiday has been a source of much pain in the past. Surprisingly, our father responded to both of us this time. The eventual results may be quite mixed; our emotions certainly are mixed already.
I am indescribably grateful that my Lord insists upon healing me. I enjoy this chance to once again lean heavily upon him in my petty weakness. His love crashes over me in waves...even as the undertow of bitterness grasps at my ankles. It is impossible to ever adore the Lover of my soul enough.
But in my present weakness, I would like to make a request of you, dear reader. If the Lord directs you to do so, please pray for me. I am honored that we can be part of the same Body, through Jesus Christ. And I am continuing my prayers for you, as well.
My sister and I both made an effort--the most recent in a long series of attempts--to connect with our father this week. We both deliberately skirted the issue of Father's Day; this holiday has been a source of much pain in the past. Surprisingly, our father responded to both of us this time. The eventual results may be quite mixed; our emotions certainly are mixed already.
I am indescribably grateful that my Lord insists upon healing me. I enjoy this chance to once again lean heavily upon him in my petty weakness. His love crashes over me in waves...even as the undertow of bitterness grasps at my ankles. It is impossible to ever adore the Lover of my soul enough.
But in my present weakness, I would like to make a request of you, dear reader. If the Lord directs you to do so, please pray for me. I am honored that we can be part of the same Body, through Jesus Christ. And I am continuing my prayers for you, as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)