Sunday, February 28, 2010

4 Truths that Singleness Teaches the Church

by John Piper

1. The Family of God grows not by propagation through sexual intercourse, but by regeneration through faith in Christ.

2. Relationships in Christ are more permanent and more precious than relationships in families.

3. Marriage is temporary and finally gives way to the relationship to which it was pointing all along, namely, Christ and the church.

4. Faithfulness to Christ defines the value of life and all other relationships get their significance from that.


This message is really encouraging to me as I think about my function in singleness once again.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

What the coffee grinder told me.

Today, I had burning coals heaped on my head.

The truth is, I asked for it, big time. If you've been following my admittedly prolific blogging the last few days, you're no doubt familiar with the coffee grinder incident.

Now, I was particularly proud of this blog entry. It felt poetic and justified. It expressed rather concisely all the anger and hurt I've been feeling and was witty to boot. Okay, so it was rather passive-aggressive, but maybe I tend that way when I'm feeling strong emotion.

The coffee grinder was symbolic, really. It represented my loss. My anger. My depression. Somehow, pushing that button and hearing no buzz of spinning blades resonated with the state of my heart, trying to beat in rhythm, but finding no charge, no power.

But today, after I checked the mail and as made my way up the flight of stairs to my apartment, I paused halfway up. There it was, sitting unobtrusively by the door. An orange and yellow box declaring its name, "Mr. Coffee." It might as well have said, "Eat this, bitch."

But it didn't say that. It whispered regret. Forgiveness.

There was that little box, smiling sadly at me. Pitying me.

No frills.

No note.

Just the box. Contents: Coffee grinder, sheet of directions, and, way down at the bottom, my pride, neatly folded up and handed back to me.

No words could have said it better. No apology could have expressed what that gift whispered to me.

Proverbs 15:1 tells us, "A soft answer turns away wrath."

My anger is turned away. It dissipated with the sight of the box.

Now, I'm still sad, but not angry. I wish things were different, but they aren't. The man who just two weeks ago I was convinced I would be married to next year let me go, and that's not going to change.

But with this new coffee grinder, I feel like I'm beginning to heal. I pour the beans into it, turn it on, and hear the coarse hum.

And my soul also begins to hum.

For the gift you left on my doorstep today,

Thank you.

And

I'm sorry for being such a pretentious jerk.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

How I met your mother episode. Perfect. Watch it.

How.I.Met.Your.Mother.S01E04.DVDRip.XviD-TOPAZ.avi - 174.5 Mb

Quote from How I Met Your Mother

"Kids, when you're single, all you're looking for is 'Happily Ever After'. But only one of your stories can end that way. The rest end with someone getting hurt."

Rich Mullins says it all

As if my heart wasn't enough,

he also broke my coffee grinder.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Ex-Friends

As promised, here's the Mikey Show bit about staying friends with your exes.

Go here and scroll down to the Feb. 23, 7:00 bit.

Movers and Shakers

I've observed something in the last few days that makes me wonder about the different types of people that are out there.

See, I'm an extremely introspective and analytical person. I'm constantly examining my feelings and convictions, seeing problems, making minor adjustments, changing things, moving priorities around, praying, talking, learning. I have many friends that are this way as well. We talk through our issues, vent to each other, pray together. And by having these "dealing" sessions, we actively work to better ourselves and to deal with all our relationships healthily.

But recently I realized that there is an entirely different kind of person out there.

This type of person views his life objectively, as if he were an outside observer. He watches his actions and behaviors and sees them as symptoms of his emotional state. And he makes his decisions based on the way he observes himself behaving. I think it goes something like this:

"Oh, I'm noticing that I'm not calling or spending as much time with that particular friend anymore. That's interesting. I wonder why not? Oh well. I trust my behavior. Clearly, if I'm not spending time with him, I must not be interested in his friendship anymore. I guess I won't hang out with him."

The Observer, as we'll call him, lets his actions show him how he feels, and then allows events to progress depending on his natural behavior.

The Changer, that is, people like me, think differently. We realize more deeply that our behaviors can affect our feelings, and that we're not victims of our emotions. We are the people who intentionally pursue friendships. Instead of backing off from a friendship because we see our behavior as indicating a loss of interest, we will change things to purposely spend more time with that person.

"Oh, I'm noticing that I'm not calling or spending as much time with that particular friend anymore. I should give him a call and see if he wants to hang out."

Now, I'm not saying that one pattern of behavior is right and the other is wrong. I mean, I don't even really understand the Observer's mind or how he thinks. I think the emphasis is different. The Changer sees emotions changing, and changes behaviors to reflect this. The Observer sees behaviors changing and allows that pattern to continue, assuming that the behaviors are indicators of changing emotions.

The Observer has less control over his life, his actions, and his emotions and he lives as a victim to the waxing and waning tides of feeling. He doesn't seem to realize that even if the emotion isn't there, he CAN change his behavior.

After all, this is why we have rituals of faith... things like communion, church on Sundays, Lent, daily devotions, prayer. These things do not save us, but they do give us something to hold on to when our faith wanes, which it definitely will. We keep doing the things that we've been taught, because action builds and bolsters our faith, just as faith inevitably results in action.

Where are they keeping them?

The men, I mean.

The Boundless Webzine (sometimes right and sometimes way off) recently posted an article about the lack of men in colleges. The link to it is here.

The article states that women greatly outnumber men in colleges now, for several reasons, and focuses on the problem that this creates of women becoming to aggressive in competing for these men. In fact, the article quotes a New York Times piece at the end, saying,

Just listen to North Carolina senior Jayne Dallas, who complained that the
population of male students was even smaller when you considered them as
potential dates: "Out of that 40 percent, there are maybe 20 percent that we
would consider, and out of those 20, 10 have girlfriends, so all the girls are
fighting over that other 10 percent," she said.

The Boundless article ends by saying essentially, "See, ladies, there ARE a few worthwhile guys out there."

But the problem here is that the piece itself contradicts one of the Boundless Webzines primary beliefs: that marriage is God's plan for most Christians. Let's do the math here:

If there are 60% women in colleges, and 40% men, that means that 1 woman in 3 won't find a match in college right off the bat, before we even consider the dateability of the guys. Now, in the North Carolina example above, the student cuts the "potential" guys in half, saying that they simply aren't dateable.

Now we have 2 out of 3 women with no dates.

Half of those left have girlfriends, taking them off the list, but also removing 1 girl out of 6 from the running, assuming that those guys are dating girls who also attend college.

So, now we're left with 1 guy in 4 that is actually dateable and available, while we have 5 girls out of 6 to compete for these men. Let's see if I can figure out this math...

That means we have 83% of women in college who are single, looking for a guy, only 25% of whom are dateable. Which STILL figures to more than 3 women competing for the attentions of each man! And that's just in the general population!

Now imagine the dearth of single, dateable men in the church!

I've been to different churches. I've been to Bible studies. I've been to singles events. At all these, there are roughly 57 single women for every 1 single guy. This, quite frankly, makes it nearly impossible for a girl to be "hard to get", considering that a guy can just move on to skinnier, prettier, skankier pastures if he feels even the slightest bit inclined.

It's a woman-eat-woman world out there!

But people keep telling me that there IS someone out there for me. I just have a question: Where are these guys? I mean, if marriage IS God's plan for most Christians, then these guys must be somewhere and I'd like to know where they are. Are they locked up in a room somewhere? Being held hostage? Is there some "Christian Guy Hangout Place" that I'm not being told about?

The Problem with Exes.

I've started listening to The Mikey Show in the mornings on my way to work. Mikey Esparza is a great guy, strong Christian, and almost always right.

This morning, he was very definitely right.

The show cast was talking about remaining close friends with an ex when you're in another relationship and Mikey likened that ex relationship to a security blanket. He's so spot on that I can't even embellish on what he said. However, since the podcast to the show doesn't go up until the show is actually over, I will post a link to it as soon as it appears on the Mikey Show website.

Monday, February 22, 2010

I got the following from the Suite 101 hymn history website:

"The hymn-writer, Katharina Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel (born on October 22, 1697), was the outstanding figure of [the German Pietistic] spiritual revival. Little is known of her other than she was a Lutheran. From her surname... it can be deduced that she was of aristocratic birth. She may have been a canoness of an evangelical women's seminary. Schlegel contributed a number of lyrics to a collection of spiritual songs published. Although she wrote many additional verses for this hymn, most hymnals use just three stanzas. She died about 1768."

"Be Still, My Soul"by Catharina von Schlegel, 1697-?
Translated by Jane Borthwick, 1813-1897

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fulness all He takes away
.

Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Lyrics by Derek Webb

Don't lie to me
tell me something true
'cause i'm only free
when i look at you

and you look so good it hurts
and love, i come undone

chorus
but i don’t want medication
just give me liberation
even if it cuts my legs right out from underneath
don’t give me medication
i want the real sensation
even when living feels just like death to me

don't paint my face
i need to see the scars
so i don't forget
the back of my tutor's arm

'cause i just can't keep it straight
which kills and which one saves

but i don’t want medication
just give me liberation
even if it cuts my legs right out from underneath
don’t give me medication
i want the real sensation
even when living feels just like death to me


‘cause the truth is i need you just like the air i breathe
just like a freight train needs the tracks beneath
so i’d rather suffer my whole life and be this rich man’s wife
if loving you means suffering

but i don’t want medication
just give me liberation
even if it cuts my legs right out from underneath
don’t give me medication
i want the real sensation
even when living feels just like death to me

Sunday, February 21, 2010

29 Dimensions of Compatibility

prag·ma·tism
noun
Definition:
1. way of thinking about results: a straightforward practical way of thinking about things or dealing with problems, concerned with results rather than with theories and principles
2. way of evaluating theories: a philosophical view that a theory or concept should be evaluated in terms of how it works and its consequences as the standard for action and thought.

i·de·al·ism
noun
Definition:
1. belief in perfection: belief in and pursuit of perfection as an attainable goal
2. living by high ideals: aspiring to or living in accordance with high standards or principles

How did a pragmatist like me end up being such an idealist? Seriously, I'm the most practical person you'll ever meet. I'm always trying to figure out if something's going to work. I want to know the application of concepts. I come up with solutions that satisfy as many people involved as possible.

But I also believe in perfection. I believe in love. I believe in fairy tales, huge romantic gestures, deep hurts, and happily ever after.

So how does this work out?

I want practical love. I want compatibility. I want stability.

I want insanity. I want someone to adore me. Someone who will lasso the moon for me.

How did those two violently opposed ideas end up in the same person? And how can I ever hope to be both the practical and the crazy one in a relationship?

I make little sense.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

What I know right now.

My dear daughter,

Some day you will be in the place I am now. Some day your heart will be rent, you will wonder what happened to the love you'd been promised, and that sharp, still desire to beat something will fill your chest and make your fingers twitch for a knife handle to close around. I do not envy you this time, dear. I can only say that I have been there as well, that I am there now. As I write, I feel your pain.

I don't know what happened. I simply wasn't enough. There's nothing I could have done. There is nothing which could have prevented this. The woman that I am, the woman God made me to be, is not enough to pass someone's test.

I thought that I was. I thought that I was strong. I thought that he would love me as I had loved him for so long but dared not hope. And I was right not to dare it.

The pain I feel is profound. My fingers ache. My throat closes in on itself. My heart beats slower. Weaker. As if looking for a reason to continue beating. Finding none, it listlessly beats on, hoping that a reason will arrive sooner rather than later. It has no purpose now, only to keep me alive. It beats for no one.

I had hoped never to feel this again. Food turns to ash in my mouth. Colors fade from the world like a painter washing away his watercolors. I have to remind myself to shower, to eat, to get out of bed. To breathe in and out.

God has mysterious ways of working. You always think you know what He's up to, but you never do. And this world, this fallen life, is so full of heartache that sometimes you have to wonder if it's worth it. I do. Sometimes I plead with God to come quickly, to remove these shackles that bind me. But He doesn't come, and I have to soldier on, bear the pain, put one foot in front of the other.

This is the time, dear, when you will realize who your true friends are. They are the ones who find you standing outside at your birthday party, crying your eyes out. They are the ones who hug you and hold on tight, forcing more tears from your tired eyes. They are the ones who hold your hand and drive you home, silent as you weep loudly into a Carl's Jr. napkin pulled from the glove box.

You feel weak and tired. You feel as if this time will never pass. But it will, dear one. It will. Sometimes you give your heart to someone and they are careless with it. Sometimes they reject it or throw it back in your face. And sometimes they hold it gently, knowing what a precious item it is, and they become frightened. They hand it back to you, saying "I'm not the right one to look after this." Regardless of the circumstances, you must now take your heart and put it back into safekeeping until the next time.

You might feel used. You might feel like damaged goods. You might feel as if no one could love you for who you are. It's not true. Some people choose to love us, and some don't. But the reasons for their choices are not our fault.

As I write this, dear daughter, I weep not just for my own heartache, but for yours. I wish I could prevent you from feeling it, but this is a part of growing up. Of living. You need not learn to love it, only to bear it.

You will learn to bear it with grace, and to cling to the Truth of the Cross in all this. It only takes time. Precious time.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

"Just Friends"... not so much.

The Boundless Webzine, which I sometimes agree with and sometimes thrash mercilessly, has just published one of the best articles I've ever read on Male-Female friendships.

It's called "Not Your Buddy" and it can be found here.

Enjoy.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Great Lyrics

I grew up listening to an obscure Christian band from the eighties called Crumbacher. My dad discovered them while he was in the military and our family has been listening to them for over twenty years now.

One particular song saw me through my emo teenage years. I listened to it over and over, and it kept me from giving up on my Christian walk altogether. Here are the lyrics to it.

Tough Act to Follow

Watching my story's plot unwind
Making up endings in my mind
Waiting for the curtain

I see you standing in the wings
Cheering me on through every scene
How can you be so certain?
Oh my Jesus

You'll be a tough act to follow
It's a tough act to follow you
But after all the parts that I've played through
I will follow you

Spotting the mark, I'll take your cue
Knowing my role is subject to
The crowds interpretations

Under the pressure to succeed
Will I inspire them to read
Between these rough translations?
Oh my Jesus

You'll be a tough act to follow
It's a tough act to follow you
But after all the parts that I've played through
I will follow you

Even when the lights go down, it's true
I will follow you

Solid Ground?

That's what I get for thinking I had things figured out.

Sometimes I feel like God wants to just mess with me. I recently read through the Babel story again in Genesis 11, and the feeling I got was that God was having a little fun with the people building their tower.

And the LORD came down to see the city and the tower,
which the children of man had built. And the LORD said, "Behold, they are one
people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what
they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for
them. Come, let us go down and there confuse their language,
so that they may not understand one another's speech." So the LORD dispersed them from there over the face
of all the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore its name
was called Babel, because there the LORD confused the language of all the earth. And from there the
LORD dispersed them over the face of all the earth.


Whenever I get to a stage of my life where I think I kind of have things figured out, like I know where this is headed or how it's going to turn out, it seems that God likes to throw a wrench in the works. He likes to confuse me, make me turn back to Him.

I need stability. I need some sense of security, but it seems like God doesn't want to give me that. I have to keep seeking after Him, clinging to Him, because I get no security from life.

But is God always going to keep me in this limbo? Am I always going to feel shaky and unstable, because then I'm forced to rely on God and not my own resources?

Our parents and grandparents were able to achieve a level of material comfort. Are their children doomed to insecurity, if only to strengthen their faith?

Dear God, why does life have to be so hard?

Saturday, February 06, 2010

How to Deal

When something is bothering me, I have a pattern of behavior that follows my process of dealing with it. It's kind of a funny system, but it works. Sometimes, however, I have to skip steps depending on my schedule or what the issue is. But here are my steps, and what they mean.

1. Whine
The first thing I do when something is bothering me is tell everyone I trust. I tell the story over and over again and ask for advice or just complain about it to someone who will commiserate. My mom, my K.i.S.A., my roommate, my best friend, the guy I work with that always comes into my classroom, friends on Facebook who will 'listen', the girls in my prayer group... they all hear the story, slightly modified not to protect myself or anyone else, but rather to give me variety in telling it. It's the same story, just told slightly differently so that I don't feel like I'm giving a memorized speech. And as I hear it, I notice things I didn't pick up on, so by the fifth or sixth telling, I may have many more observations to note than at that first telling, when all I knew was that something was wrong.

2. Wind down
All this storytelling has got me tired, and the stress of the issue wears me out as well. Sometimes I cry at this stage, sometimes I don't. Usually I feel like I need to cry but can't. By this time I, like Bilbo Baggins before he heads off for Rivendell, "...like butter scraped over too much bread". I am worn out, and it shows on my face. So I flee to my bed for rest. I take midday naps. I go to bed early and get up late. I sleep whenever I get the chance, just to relieve the weariness that courses through my veins.

3. Withdraw
Regardless of how much I'd like to sleep my troubles away, life does go on, and I have to deal with it. I still have to grocery shop, go to my job, see friends, and run errands. And during this time, I end up driving a lot. But all those quiet times when I'm alone in my car start wearing on me, and this is when Satan can whisper most clearly into my ears, "You're not going to make it. You're not enough. Not strong enough, not bold enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, not capable enough, not wise enough, not desirable enough, not old enough... You fail this test." And when he lies to me like that, I do one thing: I turn up my music. I listen to songs that encourage me, make me feel better. I listen to it so loud that it fills my mind and there's no room for the Liar. It's my spiritual equivalent of putting my fingers in my ears and chanting, "LALALALALALALALA! I can't hear you!" Eventually he gets tired and goes away. And then, sometimes, the tears finally come.

4. Write
When I've had enough time to think, to ruminate, to mull over the issue in my mind, when the issue seems clearer to me (though I may not have a solution yet), I sit down here and just let my fingers go. They fly across the keyboard, most of the time freely. I am only marginally aware of what I'm writing. But my fingers know how to express my feelings, and so they go, typing, typing, typing, and then I click "Publish Post" and the issue gets chipped away at, just that much more.

5. Wonder
Usually, I make a point of going to sit outside for half an hour or so per day. The real reason for this is to make sure I get the vitamin D that I need But when I have a problem, the walls of the house start closing in on me. I begin to suffocate, and sitting on the porch in the warm sun or protected from the chilly rain calms my spirits. I can think, and I am reassured. This is when God speaks to me. I hear Him clearly, not in the crashing thunder or the raging fire or the great wind, but in the rustle of the leaves. In the beating rays of the sun. In the skittering of a lizard, the buzzing of a hummingbird. The warmth of the sun is His arms wrapping around me. The soft sound of leaves is His shushing my outcry. The sway of the branches is Him rocking me on His chest, soothing me, telling me it's going to be okay. I bask in this, and then I go inside and feel better.

6. Wander
When the issue is particularly troublesome, I find that I have to escape from my life, if even just for a day. I make myself a sandwich, take some water, grab my Bible, and go. To the mountains, or to the beach, or to walk around the lake. I sit down and read God's words, wherever He leads me to read. Sometimes I write down my thoughts and prayers. I cry out to God, reminding Him of His promises to me. Sometimes I am angry with Him. Sometimes I despair. But in those times when I'm alone with God, He listens. And then in my heart I know what to do. The words don't come in a voice, or even in the rustling of the trees this time. Just a calm assurance from the center of my chest. A growing warmth and security. This is the answer. And this... is the end.

The issue is gone, dealt with, vanquished. I drive home in silence because I don't need to drown out Satan's lies. I am insulated by the Truth of my Savior.

Monday, February 01, 2010

It's Time

Every once in a while... maybe once every year or so, I get really convicted about how unreliable I am. About the unconnectedness of my spiritual walk. About my laissez-faire approach to the things of God.

And when that happens,

When I look around and see my friends struggling too,

I think,

It's time.

Time to repost the poem that shook me to my core.

Time to read again the short words that come back to me time and time again.

The words of Wilbur Reese:

"I would like to buy three dollars worth of God, please.
Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep,
but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk
or a snooze in the sunshine.

I don't want enough of him to make me love a black man
or pick beets with a migrant.
I want ecstasy, not transformation.
I want the warmth of the womb not a new birth.

I want about a pound of the eternal in a paper sack.
I'd like to buy three dollars worth of God, please."