Worried about The Church

I'm a lousy blogger these days. One of the reasons I put myself on this schedule to blog every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday was to force myself to write, to sit and think of something to say three times a week, to discipline myself into the mental activity of examining what God is communicating to me on a regular basis and articulate it to the world so I am held accountable.

Then I went "back to work." And I find all sorts of reasons to justify skipping a blog day. Some good reasons, some wimpy ones. I'm a lousy blogger these days.

I keep a document on the computer where I write notes to myself about ideas that pop into my head here and there that I might want to blog about sometime. I read through that list the other day and had to laugh; there are some items on there that I can't remember now what in the world I was thinking about. C'est la vie. That brilliance is lost to the ages.

But I do notice a pattern to my little jottings. I'm worried about The Church. About The Church not being who we are supposed to be . . . and blaming the rest of the world for that instead of ourselves.

Several weeks ago, a teacher in a Sunday School class we were visiting made the comment that we need to worry less about getting prayer back into our schools and more about getting prayer back into our churches. AMEN.

Another item from my list: when Robin Williams died, a good friend of his commented that the remarkable thing about Robin was that when he was tired or frustrated or at the end of his rope, he didn't get cranky and irritable -- he got all the more sweet and kind. Gentleness was his default mode, the place he went when his mask was off and his guard was down. And I thought, what a stunning denunciation on The Church when such a statement could be said of one who very likely was not a believer but could hardly be said of anyone in The Church. I don't think I've ever known anyone like that.

I was reminded this past week of the story in Acts about Paul addressing the Athenians at the Areopagus. He started by mentioning their many temples to many gods and acknowledging their obvious religious devotion. Then he pointed out their temple to "an unknown god" and offered to fill them in about that god they don't know yet. He approached them with gentleness and respect. He quote their own poets and spoke their own language -- not just the Greek language, but the language of education and intellectualism. He didn't berate them for being sinners. How often does The Church berate people for being sinners rather than gently and respectfully filling in the gaps they are missing?

Many in The Church are fond of proclaiming that God is going to punish -- or is already punishing -- our nation because of our sin. Abortion, homosexuality, promiscuity, drug abuse, etc. etc. etc. God's wrath is coming upon us, people!

Here's the thing, folks: I think there may be something to that. I think God may allow a level of destruction to fall on our nation . . . but it's not because of the sins listed above. God expects the unregenerated to sin; their consequences are already set. If God punishes the United States, I believe it will be for the sins of The Church. The Church whose first command from her Lord was to preach the gospel -- not morality, not "the Christian nation", but the gospel of forgiveness for and deliverance from sin. The gospel of a New Covenant, a new relationship with the God of the universe. If The Church in America had been serious about fulfilling the Great Commission in our communities for the last several generations rather than simply making ourselves fat and comfortable in our "One Nation Under God," we might not be having to deal with all these other sins.

Revival starts with us, Church. With you and with me.

Enjoying God is Conditional

You know, they say that your brain continues to think about problems and concerns while you sleep. I wonder if that's true.

Last night at BSF, our teaching leader made a statement that troubled me. In her lecture about Exodus 19-20, she remarked that "God's covenant with Israel was unconditional," (that is, they did nothing to earn it or maintain it or cancel it) "but their enjoyment of that covenant was conditional: it depended on their obedience."

And as I said, that troubled me. So, He chose them to be His people -- all on His impetus; they had nothing to do with making that happen -- but they don't get to enjoy that covenant unless they do this and this and this? It kind of sounds like some passive aggressive manipulation. Like some kind of sick game.

But this morning, I woke up and thought while lying in bed, "What should I blog about?" And that statement from my teaching leader suddenly came to mind . . . and I got it.

Because it's kind of like my husband's and my relationship with our daughter. She had nothing to do with the decision to be born in our family. She did nothing to "deserve" it. We established that relationship, and she just gets to benefit from it.

And there's nothing she can do that can sever that connection between us. We will always be the people who birthed her. Always. That relationship between us is "unconditional."

However . . . if she wants to enjoy all of the benefits of that relationship, there ARE things she has to do. If she wants to enjoy our company, she has to spend time with us. If she wants to share in the material blessings our family has, she has to either live under our roof or accept the gifts we offer her. If she wants the benefit of our wisdom, she has to listen to us and trust us. If she wants our help with problems, she has to open up to us about those problems.

And yes, she has to obey us. If she wants the benefit of our protecting her from certain dangers in the world, she has to trust and obey.

We don't dangle those blessings in front of her face, trying to manipulate her into doing what we want before we will give them to her. It's the natural course of things that for her to have those blessings requires a level of intimacy between her and us -- and she has the choice of nurturing that intimacy or not. On our end, we are all open arms.

And so is God on His end.

Yep, now I get it.

The Stuff Dreams (and Nightmares) Are Made Of

Have you ever heard of The Actor's Dream?

It's when an actor dreams of being on stage live before an audience and not having any idea of what he's supposed to be doing. No lines, no memory of any blocking . . . he has to ad-lib his way through a scene with other actors that are furious with him and an audience who clearly recognizes that he is a clueless idiot. There are variations on this, of course, but that's the gist of it.

I've had The Actor's Dream before. Awful. I also had The Bride's Dream frequently the year I was engaged. This is where it's time for me to walk down the aisle, and everything seems to be falling apart. I can't find my bouquet -- my dress is torn (or I'm still in my pajamas) -- the church is all wrong -- the music is out of control -- you get the idea.

And I had The New Mom's Dream when I was pregnant. That's when you're dreaming about taking care of your baby and suddenly remember that you have another baby -- one you've completely forgotten about for the last, oh, two months or so. And where is that baby? Is it starving somewhere in the house? You haven't heard it crying -- does that mean it's dead??

I hate these dreams.

But the one I have most commonly is The Teacher's Dream. Or The Student's Dream. Or sometimes a bizarre combination of both where I'm both teacher and student, not prepared for either scenario.

This morning, right before I woke up, I dreamt that I was teaching my Freshman Bible class. Of course, it wasn't in my usual room or with my usual students -- it never is in such dreams. But in particular, I had a new student, a young man whom I have had in class before (can't remember his name) who hates school and is an absolute troublemaker.

It all went downhill from there.

I completely lost control of my class. Students were coming in and out of the room without my even knowing it. Those still in the class were clearly playing me for their own amusement. I was yelling constantly -- CONSTANTLY. The clock said that class was over, and I had not accomplished a single thing, partly because I wasn't sure what I had intended to accomplish in that class today.

Horrible. Such nightmares make me appreciate my reality all the more.

The Freshman class I teach at Summit Christian Academy is a treasure. They are all great kids. The culture of the class is such that all the peer pressure in the room is toward responsibility, focus, and academic success, and yet they're still a lot of fun. I love these kids. (I love my 7th graders, too, but there is just something special about this class of Freshmen.)

Every day, I teach with the true sense that I am training warriors for the Kingdom. That these kids (the 7th graders, too) are going to be used by God in mighty ways in the future, and I am so privileged to be a part of preparing them for that. This is my Dream Job. The good kind of dream.

[On a side note: If you would feel so inclined, I would love if you would visit this website (click here) about our current school fund-raiser and make a contribution to help SCA meet its operating expenses this year. So my dream job can continue and these future warriors can be trained well.]

Busy, Stressed and Tired -- and Kidding Myself

I'm a Busy Person. By this, I mean that busy-ness is part of my identity, part of how I label myself. By extension, I am also a Stressed Person . . . and a Tired Person. And I'm sure I am a member of a vast company.

I've come by these labels legitimately. Even from high school, I got much too involved in things and had way too many tasks sitting on my plate. It has taken many years and much maturity to learn which tasks I'm good at and should say yes to, and which tasks I can bless this world with by saying an emphatic NO. But my BSF teaching leader made a little side comment last night that slapped me in the face.

[Isn't that how it often happens? You're listening to a speaker who has Points A, B, and C to communicate to you, but in the course of this communication, they make a passing remark that hits you square between the eyes and convicts you to the depths of your soul . . . and you very likely completely miss Points A, B, and C.]

I still self-identify as a Busy Person. But the reality is, I'm not that busy. Oh, I have plenty of things to do -- and I have more things I could be doing that aren't getting done -- but I'm certainly not rushing around all the time, with never a moment to sit and relax and think (as I have been at other

periods of my life). 

Yet, if someone were to ask me How my life is these days? (one of those dear friends who you know actually wants to know how life is and isn't just hoping for a pat, polite, small-talky response), I think my automatic response would be something to the effect of, "Oh, life's a little crazy, as always!" 

But my life is NOT a little crazy these days -- "as always." My life is pretty good these days. But it is my default mental state to think I'm Busy, Stressed, Tired Person. 

That was my slap in the face.

Because if my Busy-ness is merely a habit of thinking, is it possible my Stressed-ness and Tiredness are also? Is it possible, that, even when I have been genuinely busy, I could have born it all without stress and exhaustion if I had thought I could do so? 

Is it possible that, as the Bible teaches me, the Spirit really is my strength and He really does empower me to do all things He's called me to do if I relax and let Him do that? 

And is it possible . . . no, forget that. I am quite certain that I -- and probably many, many other women out there -- have nursed this self-image of a Busy, Stressed, Tired Person because there is, strangely enough, some female-induced peer pressure to do so. Because Busy, Stressed and Tired seems to also mean Productive. And Accomplished. And Worthwhile. And Someone Who Matters. 

We assume that being Someone Who Matters can't feel any other way.

But if scripture is to be believed, it not only can, but it should. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light, Jesus tells us. Is it possible that he's telling us the truth?

Fredericksburg and Shops

Last Saturday, our family drove the one-hour jaunt up to Fredericksburg, one of the many little towns around here that we keep hearing we need to visit. There happened to be a Food and Wine Festival going on -- we didn't even know until we got there, but we didn't participate in that anyway.

We took a peek in an old, old Catholic church right by where we parked (I love looking inside old churches). We spent an hour or so at the Pioneer Museum -- well-kept, but similar to other such museums we've been to. Then we walked up and down main street seeing the sights . . . which were mainly people and shops.

Lots of shops. What's the word for the kind of shops I'm talking about? Maybe it's "specialty shops". Cute little stores packed to the ceiling with cute little things. There was a dog specialty shop we stopped at to see a million and one unnecessary and costly dog accessories. There was a Christmas shop where we saw five million and one beautiful and excessive Christmas decorations. Seven blocks or so of such places, lining both sides of the street. Plus all the German biergartens and chocolate shops.

It was a cute little town. I kept thinking how twenty years ago, I would have just eaten this up. I loved "specialty shops." I could have spent all day long looking at the items in these stores. I probably wouldn't have bought much, but I would have wanted to -- or I would have come away with ideas for things I wanted to try to make myself for cheaper.

Because I used to be a crafter, or at least fancy myself as one. I still have a stash of craft supplies in storage left over from those days, just in case I need something again. I loved the idea of making some cute little item to beautify my house with my personal touches. I often said I'd rather decorate my home with something I made that is of slightly lower quality but would have meaning to me, than with something fabulous that I just plunked down some money for.

There's probably a remnant of that sentiment still in me somewhere. But not much. Somewhere along the way, I lost the urge to make little things. Even more so, I lost the urge to HAVE little things sitting around my house looking pretty. As my mother was known to say, "It's just more to dust."

So, walking through these stores made me examine myself and my new set of values. I'd like to think there's something somewhat . . . I don't know . . . philosophical about this change in me. I looked at the stuff in there for sale and thought how astonishing these seven blocks would be to someone from a third world country. Or even to someone from this country a hundred and fifty years ago. My daughter is reading a biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder, and looking through the Christmas store, I remembered the Christmases she described in her books -- getting one small toy item and a candy stick that they sucked a little bit every day for weeks to make it last. The Christmas feast that would hardly seem like a hearty meal for some of us. I don't remember her mentioning decorations at all.

Laura would have walked through this Christmas store with her jaw on her chest. The very idea that people could have as many Christmas decorations as they do and still walk through this place wanting even more.

When there are people not eating. When there are people dying of curable diseases. When there are children who can't read. I've just lost my appetite for more stuff in my life when there are so many uses for my money that could actually make an eternal difference in humanity.

But then again, maybe it's really only about not having more to dust.

When I Don't Read Scripture Literally

About a week ago, I blogged about an article my friend asked me to read about a "progressive" approach to reading scripture. The author talked about a "canon within the canon" approach. And about not taking the Bible literally. All of which make me think and made me squirm . . . because I find myself too often conceding minor points to such people but unable to swallow their arguments as a whole.

Let me tell you about the Book of Job.

The Book of Job, from the Old Testament, was the first piece of literature my students studied in Freshman English this fall. Most Christians (and many non-Christians) are familiar with the basic story. Satan essentially makes a bet with God that devout Job would curse God if his many blessings were taken away, and Job proves Satan wrong.

But those basic plot points happen only in the first two chapters and the final chapter of the book. There are thirty-nine more chapters in between that people rarely read -- partly because they are written in narrative verse and are much more challenging reading, and partly because if you do challenge yourself with the reading, you find your whole impression of the Job story challenged as well. Job is not the patient Job we all think of: he gets very angry and, in the words of my students, comes dangerously close to crossing that line of cursing God. And when God finally comes to speak to him, His answer seems less than satisfactory to the modern ear, although it fully satisfies Job.

I bring up the book to address this question of taking the Bible literally. Because if one were to ask me if I take the Bible literally, I would generally answer yes. But that requires some explanation in some instances, like the Book of Job.

For example, I do believe that there was a historical man named Job who seems to have lived around the time of Abraham, and who was very rich and blessed, lost it all, and was known for his continued faith in God through all his suffering. There are other passages in scripture that refer to Job as an actual historical figure and not as a character in a narrative. (As the author of that article said, we need to use scripture to interpret scripture.) So, I believe Job existed.

However, I don't believe that Job and three of his friends sat together on a pile of ashes and pontificated to each other in metrical verse for thirty-seven chapters worth of material. The Book of Job is a narrative poem, and it seems clear to me that the author took the raw material of the story and put it in the form of that genre for artistic effect.

I'm also not sure that Job actually had three specific friends named Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar (although there's evidence such people may have existed) who sat with him during this time and made these specific arguments to him. It's certainly possible, but their arguments seems to center around specific humanistic themes in a way that looks to be molded by the author. (As the creationists are wont to say, evidence of design implies the presence of a designer.)

I'm not uncomfortable with saying that I look at the Book of Job as possibly being like what we would currently call historical fiction -- based on a true story with liberties taken by the author to shape the details into a good narrative. In that sense, I guess you could argue that I don't take everything in the book literally.

On the other hand, I absolutely believe the book to be inspired by the Holy Spirit, and that every truth communicated in there is Truth. I don't take the Good Samaritan story or the rest of Christ's parables "literally", but they are inspired Truth nonetheless.

It is also important to note, as I emphasized to my students, that while the Book of Job contains God's Truth, what it contains is incomplete truth. There is almost no mention at all in the book of the love of God for his people -- one of the most important things we need to know about God. One cannot build an accurate theology around the Book of Job alone (or around any small part of the Bible); it must be informed by the whole of scripture.

All this to say, the progressives do make a point about considering the genre of the section of the Bible you are reading, and reading it intelligently in light of that genre. And they make valid suggestions that there are other passages of scripture that fundamentalists interpret "literally" that might be written in a genre that doesn't allow for that.

I don't have time to address all of those here. I'll just close with two points:

1) Fundamentalists need to be less arrogantly dismissive of such arguments made by the progressives, because they make valid points and we only denigrate our case by being unwilling to seriously consider the opposing view.

2) In my serious consideration of opposing views about such passages of scripture, I have yet to be convinced to jump on board with a progressive interpretation. So when, for example, friends ask me to read the creation story in Genesis 1 as a poetic account of the beginning of time, with spiritual truth to be gleaned from it but without literal facts at its base, I recognize this as a valid idea to consider -- but when I have considered it, I cannot yet buy the argument.

And I may have to take another post sometime to further explain why that is.

Mommy/Daughter Time

Hubby has been traveling a lot on business lately, so I'm spending a lot of with my daughters. And as much as we miss Hubby, I'm enjoying some new things with my girls. For instance:

- Once Upon A Time -- Oh, my goodness! This is, like, our new obsession. I remember when this TV show premiered, I read a review and thought, Hmm. That sounds interesting. But not interesting enough to add another weekly required viewing activity to my life, so I forgot about it. But as the girls get older, we have a much more difficult time finding TV shows that are entertaining for all of us that are also appropriate age-wise for all of us . . . and "Once" hits the spot.

We're watching the first three seasons on Netflix, and I'm so glad we are. It would drive me insane if I had to wait an entire week (or more) for the conclusion of each episode's cliffhanger. This show is FASCINATING. How fun would it have been to write this! Figuring out how to tie all these different fairy tale characters together. We are loving, loving, loving this show.

- Dance class -- This is a brand new one. The eldest and I have been bouncing around the idea of checking out adult dance classes at a dance school a couple minutes from our house. So this week, we finally took the plunge. We got to sample all the class in one week for $20: Hip Hop on Monday, Jazz on Wednesday, and Ballet last night. Walking is painful today, as you might understand. It's been a long time! I didn't realize until last night how much I miss my Sioux City dance class friends.

I think we're going to stick to the Ballet on Thursdays. More our speed (even my daughter preferred it, to my surprise). And the nice thing was, last night, we were the only students there, so we get basically a private lesson.

- New homemade dishes -- My eldest has taken on the duty of cooking some of our family's meals. And this has been an adventure because she is trying to eat more healthy stuff, so we're all having to eat her new experimental healthy dishes. But a few have been hits. She discovered a veggie burger recipe that just isn't that bad . . . I would almost call it good. She made a veggie fajita that I really enjoyed. But the best one yet: she found a recipe for homemade lo mein that is just like what you get in restaurants. Oh, my! SO good!

-Walking the dog -- Now that some semblance of fall is falling on southern Texas (some semblance . . . kind of . . . I miss fall . . . ), it is getting cool enough that the family is more interested when I say, "Who wants to go with the dog and me on a W-A-L-K?" (The spelling is for the dog's benefit; the minute he recognizes the word, he dances like a maniac with impatience until we're out the door and it makes us nuts.) These days, the neighbors have fall decorations up -- lots of scarecrows and ghosts -- and it has been a hoot to watch the mutt staring these creatures down, trying to figure them out.

Sigh! We won't have both girls with us for these moments for too many more years. Gotta treasure these days while they're here.