Saturday, October 27, 2012
Quoting a friend without permission...
"Im learning Trust means that you dont know what the hell is gonna happen next, but you know He loves you and has something great waiting ahead."
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Walls
I usually don't blog about the Bible, because it makes me feel like a poser, but right now I'm avoiding homework, so, there you have it.
This comes off as pretty sacreligious, but I'm not exactly a big fan of Paul... He tends to bring the hammer down pretty hard, and I have the feeling that he would not be impressed with me if we were to ever meet.
This is kind of funny in light of what he writes in Galatians 6: "Those who want to make a good impression outwardly are trying to compel you to be circumcised. The only reason they do this is to avoid being persecuted for the cross of Christ. Not even those who are circumcised obey the law, yet they want you to be circumcised that they may boast about your flesh."
ATTENTION ALL SUPER CHRISTIAN WANNABES: YOU ARE JUST HIDING.
You know that you aren't all that great, you are terrified by the idea of giving everything to Jesus, you still want everyone to think that it's all under control, and you want recognition to boot.
You are hiding. You say lots of nice things about how vividly you see your sin in your own life, how selfish you are, how controlling you are, how God is gracious enough and merciful enough to teach you these things over. and over again, you even let on about your secret agenda of impressing everyone, but the only reason you confess is that so other people will see you confessing. You say you know yourself. You say you know your sin. But you just dress it up to make it look looming and dramatic and horrible when the truth is that you can't save yourself from something mealy and pathetic and wrinkled and shivering on a table. Nothing about you is impressive. Not even these great sins from which you are so heroically saving yourself.
What makes you think you are so fucking important?
You don't have the power to save yourself. You aren't a monster. You are just sad.
So it is OK to accept handouts. To accept others. To accept you. To be indebted. To make a mistake. Or twenty. Thousand. To fall apart. To help. To find it, to lose it, to forget it. To laugh at yourself. To stay quiet or to let it all spill over...
Because fixing yourself and accepting yourself both end in OK. The only difference is that one is possible and the other isn't.
Bringing it back to the whole Bible thing, accepting yourself is accepting that you will always need grace. And accepting that you will always, always have it. No need to chop off your foreskin. Or be an RA, or have a perfect relationship with your roommate, or find your husband, or get the best grade on one of D-Strat's essays, or teach English in Guatemala, or time manage perfectly. None of it. None of it works, anyway. Not if you're using it to protect yourself from the gracious fury that is Christ, not if you're using it to prove to everyone that you are your own gracious fury, thank you very much.
"Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything; what counts is a new creation."
This comes off as pretty sacreligious, but I'm not exactly a big fan of Paul... He tends to bring the hammer down pretty hard, and I have the feeling that he would not be impressed with me if we were to ever meet.
This is kind of funny in light of what he writes in Galatians 6: "Those who want to make a good impression outwardly are trying to compel you to be circumcised. The only reason they do this is to avoid being persecuted for the cross of Christ. Not even those who are circumcised obey the law, yet they want you to be circumcised that they may boast about your flesh."
ATTENTION ALL SUPER CHRISTIAN WANNABES: YOU ARE JUST HIDING.
You know that you aren't all that great, you are terrified by the idea of giving everything to Jesus, you still want everyone to think that it's all under control, and you want recognition to boot.
You are hiding. You say lots of nice things about how vividly you see your sin in your own life, how selfish you are, how controlling you are, how God is gracious enough and merciful enough to teach you these things over. and over again, you even let on about your secret agenda of impressing everyone, but the only reason you confess is that so other people will see you confessing. You say you know yourself. You say you know your sin. But you just dress it up to make it look looming and dramatic and horrible when the truth is that you can't save yourself from something mealy and pathetic and wrinkled and shivering on a table. Nothing about you is impressive. Not even these great sins from which you are so heroically saving yourself.
What makes you think you are so fucking important?
You don't have the power to save yourself. You aren't a monster. You are just sad.
So it is OK to accept handouts. To accept others. To accept you. To be indebted. To make a mistake. Or twenty. Thousand. To fall apart. To help. To find it, to lose it, to forget it. To laugh at yourself. To stay quiet or to let it all spill over...
Because fixing yourself and accepting yourself both end in OK. The only difference is that one is possible and the other isn't.
Bringing it back to the whole Bible thing, accepting yourself is accepting that you will always need grace. And accepting that you will always, always have it. No need to chop off your foreskin. Or be an RA, or have a perfect relationship with your roommate, or find your husband, or get the best grade on one of D-Strat's essays, or teach English in Guatemala, or time manage perfectly. None of it. None of it works, anyway. Not if you're using it to protect yourself from the gracious fury that is Christ, not if you're using it to prove to everyone that you are your own gracious fury, thank you very much.
"Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything; what counts is a new creation."
Saturday, October 13, 2012
From Lucille
I received an iPad from an overly wonderful aunt, so I decided to try blogging from it. The iPad's name is Lucille... At least, I think that's how you spell her name.
It's a little slow and laborious, but I'll sacrifice for the cause.
There are a ridiculous amount of good things happening in my life right now, but I guess I'm choosing not to shake the general feelings of angst... I've taken to describing my life as awkward... Oh, I'm awkward, that's awkward, my whole friggin life is one mess of awkward. A better word is insecure.
On our lovely drive to Branson yesterday (I'm vacationing at my roommate's house with another one of my best friends... So many good things happening, seriously!) I gave some thought to what my life would be like if I wasn't so committed to feeling awkward (insecure) about every situation ever... If I let go, started breathing more evenly, accepted things about myself and others and life and...
It's a mess and I can learn to love it that way or feel forever awkward...
At the kids program at my church, we sing a song that goes like this:
"Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes, He does, yes, He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes, He does, yes He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes He does, yes, He does,
And, He wants all of them to love Him, too, ooo ooo ooo...."
And after we sing it once, we substitute someone's name in for each of the "the children"s:
"Jesus, Jesus loves Ben, yes, He does, yes, He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves Norah, yes, He does, yes, He does..."
And something really funny happens whenever we sing one of the kid's names. The named kid giggles, or slides down off of their chair, or hides their face, or turns red, or gets all wide-eyed, like they've been exposed. As though having the people in your life suggest to you that Jesus loves you is something to get all squirmy about.
Which it is. Because, if Jesus loves the children (all of them), there shouldn't be much to feel awkward or insecure about... Unless, of course, you don't happen to buy into that whole "yes, He does, yes, He does" part of the song.
It's a little slow and laborious, but I'll sacrifice for the cause.
There are a ridiculous amount of good things happening in my life right now, but I guess I'm choosing not to shake the general feelings of angst... I've taken to describing my life as awkward... Oh, I'm awkward, that's awkward, my whole friggin life is one mess of awkward. A better word is insecure.
On our lovely drive to Branson yesterday (I'm vacationing at my roommate's house with another one of my best friends... So many good things happening, seriously!) I gave some thought to what my life would be like if I wasn't so committed to feeling awkward (insecure) about every situation ever... If I let go, started breathing more evenly, accepted things about myself and others and life and...
It's a mess and I can learn to love it that way or feel forever awkward...
At the kids program at my church, we sing a song that goes like this:
"Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes, He does, yes, He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes, He does, yes He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves the children, yes He does, yes, He does,
And, He wants all of them to love Him, too, ooo ooo ooo...."
And after we sing it once, we substitute someone's name in for each of the "the children"s:
"Jesus, Jesus loves Ben, yes, He does, yes, He does,
Jesus, Jesus loves Norah, yes, He does, yes, He does..."
And something really funny happens whenever we sing one of the kid's names. The named kid giggles, or slides down off of their chair, or hides their face, or turns red, or gets all wide-eyed, like they've been exposed. As though having the people in your life suggest to you that Jesus loves you is something to get all squirmy about.
Which it is. Because, if Jesus loves the children (all of them), there shouldn't be much to feel awkward or insecure about... Unless, of course, you don't happen to buy into that whole "yes, He does, yes, He does" part of the song.
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