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What I’m listening to: In the Name of Love: Artist United for Africa (which has a great cover of “40”)
I’m in the process of packing – I’m moving at the end of the month and last night I came across my old journals. And wasn’t that a trip.
Those of you who know me pretty well know that I’m a writer, but not really. I write copy nearly everyday at my job – press releases, ad copy and whatnot. I’m hardly a professional, nor do I aspire to be. I like to write, but I’m not great at it. The discipline it takes to be a great creative writer is something I’ve never taken much time with. And one of those disciplines is journal writing. But I have a few filled up from over the years. And I uncovered some I’d forgotten even existed.
I’ve never been very regular with writing in a journal, but from 2000-2004 (missing most of 2003) I had one journal I wrote in quite a bit. Some of the entries I read now and can hardly recognize that person. Nor can I understand why I write what I wrote or felt what I felt. I seemed so naive. So young. And honestly? So defeated.
I’m incredibly emotional creature (yes, I heard those of you that just blurted out “no, really?” in sarcasm) and when I write in my journals it truly is off-the-cuff, like my writing is here. And I really needed to remind myself of that as I looked through my old writing. I was crazy. My mind was spinning back to those years, wondering what in the world I was thinking. I wondered why I was so hurt over something so small, why I was so worried about nothing, and why I ignored the big picture.
Process is very important to me. When I need to respond to something that’s affected me, I need days, even weeks, to respond thoughtfully and clearly. I love that process. Not in the sense that I seek it out – I don’t, because it can be awful. But I’m not an emotional reactor – I’m just an emotional thinker. I need that time to formulate the best words possible to express myself. And those old journal entries often reflected the process, not the end result. So it’s no wonder I read them and shook my head at my behavior.
I’m ashamed to say the lessons I learned back them – well, not all of the stuck with me. I’ve repeated some of the same mistakes I made years ago with the same consequences. The same results. Should I expect anything less? No, but I should expect more of myself. I’m awfully good at self-introspection. So I’m proud to say I’m know myself better than I ever have. What I want to move towards is being the best child of God I can be in this moment he’s given me. Which I don’t believe will be accomplished by looking back.
What I’m listening to: Nickel Creek’s This Side
I was visiting my very good friends in Wyoming last weekend and they are going through “The Purpose Drive Life” for the second time at their new church. And my friend had a revelation for herself that I am still thinking about and pondering – yes, it’s that good.
What is your metaphor for life? Rick Warren asks. Is life a journey? A test? A bowl of cherries? [Insert obvious Forest Gump quote here. I always hated that movie.] The first time my friend went through this, she decided that her metaphor was “Life’s a roller coaster”. And she hates roller coasters. The unexpected drops and turns … the feeling of completely helplessness … the huge peaks and valleys … a huge sense of dread. She realized she approached her life with a “what now?” kind of attitude.
Me? I love roller coasters. But I’ve also never considered my life like that either. I’ve never read “The Purpose Driven Life” and never had an occasion to think about my metaphor for life. I’m just trying to get through it the best I can with tools I’ve been given. It isn’t easy, it isn’t tough. It’s just life. A series of lessons learned to make me become more like Christ.
But the great thing? She now realizes life is not a roller coaster. It’s a test. One God has given her all the answers to – “an open book test”. A huge burden was lifted; I could see it in her face. I’ve known this friend almost my whole life and I never felt she had a defeatist attitude. But I could visibly see in her a change that made her happier. So I asked myself why now, all of a sudden? After all, she’s known her whole life that God’s been there with her, so why is it now this burden is lifted and given her this extra joy?
I’m a firm believer that God will show us lessons when we are ready to really hear them, but it takes (sometimes) a long journey to get there. No matter how long it takes, the journey to get there is always worth it to me. It’s the extra reinforcement I need to learn the lesson well. [Insert lyrics from Godspell here.]
I’ve seen so many times in my life that where the big lesson happened only after I learned all the little ones leading up to it. It’s like a puzzle. Abstract enough that you have no idea what the big picture will be, but the more pieces that fit together, the clearer the picture becomes. And when the last piece is snapped into place is when I can finally go “Oh, I get it. It makes perfect sense – now.” All the baby steps and puzzle pieces (which if you read my other entries, you’ll see pretty clearly take place) are absolutely needed to prepare my heart for the big lesson.
What I’m listening to: Gretal’s Unreturnable Dirt and Grant Lee Phillips’s Virginia Creeper
What is the process of sanctification? Simple. The process we go through to become more like Christ. “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death”. (Romans 8: 1-2) This is the ultimate message of grace. We are not meant to live out lives as though trapped by sin. Paul goes on to later say in the same chapter another very simple message in verse 37 “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” The process of sanctification is a promised success, not failure.
There are many ways the process of sanctification manifests itself.
Scripture knows nothing of an isolated model of sanctification which takes place apart from human relationships. I find that fascinating. Here’s why.
Would we need restoration without human relationships? Would sin exist if we were all islands? Or more importantly, can we become holy without love? And can there be love if you are an island?
I don’t want to confuse how I’m viewing the words “restoration” and “sanctification”. I think they are distinctly separately yet uniquely tied together. The process of becoming holy is a discipline. Not just of actions, but of love and emotions in both the spirit and the soul. (When I’m referring to the spirit and soul, I’m referring to the spirit as our communion with God and the soul is about our heart.) But I see restoration both starting and ending with the heart.
The fact the sin has battered down our soul is the reason restoration is necessary. God wants us to experience life fully, and without restoration, life cannot fully be experienced. Here’s the rub: This cannot be done without others in your life.
Though the people in your life may not be the reason you sin, they contribute to the pain. The pain sin affords.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m off the mark here or I’m missing a connection. I know that people are not the reason we sin. And I know they are not the only reason we need restoration. But there’s a connection here. A connection between the reason we need restoration and how that reason is only what can help heal us. It seems to me it’s appropriate to quote Nietzsche (blasphemy!) That which does not kill us makes us stronger.
‘End of the Spear’: missions buffeted by U.S. culture war
There is much controversy in the Christian community concerning the movie End of the Spear . (I will carefully note this is all happening just after the movie is released in theaters, and the most crucial money-making time for the studio and distribution company.)
The movie’s been panned by critics, glorified by many Christian leaders who don’t yet know about Chad Allen’s sexual orientation, and boycotted by some Christian leaders and lay people who do. I remember Chad Allen when I was a kid. He was on the cover of every Teen Bob and Tiger Beat magazine for a time. He was the latest heartthrob for teenage girls to pin to their walls. I never thought much of him as an actor; he was mediocre in talent as far as I could see. Not that he had many great roles, but still. And sure I thought he was cute. I was 12.
I went to see End of the Spear the weekend it opened. I loved the book “Through the Gates of Splendor” and didn’t know Steve Saint’s story – a powerful and redemptive story of forgiveness which the movie reveals in an unexpected way – often how God will teach us life lessons. The way we don’t expect or even want.
But I don’t really want to talk about the movie. I’ve told everyone I know that I enjoyed it, it’s worth going to see and the story itself is moving. After all, a son not only forgives the man who killed his father, but now considers this man a grandfather to his children. The two now work together to share Christ with other tribes in the Amazon. You can’t deny that’s powerful. You simply can’t deny God worked in the hearts of both men to change their lives forever.
What bothers me is that Chad Allen’s sexual orientation is now overshadowing the message of the movie. I admit I was surprised to learn a movie that’s about Christian missionaries starred a gay man, but so what? Once again, the fundamentalist Christian right is managing to muddy the waters of what could be a clear evangelistic tool – a movie that shows forgiveness is possible no matter the sin or depth of hurt. That mercy triumphs over justice. Many can relate to that message – Christian or not. What it does is open all kinds of great discussion and opportunity. But if all anyone can talk about is the personal life of one of the actors in the movie, those opportunities might be lost.
I do, however, appreciate that so far the bigger names (i.e. men who many uninformed Christians consider their word gospel instead of forming their own opinion) have remained silent on the issue. Names like James Dobson and Jerry Fallwell. But there are still others speaking out in an attempt to prevent Christians from going to the movie in the theater so that the company that made this movie might loose money. That’s why this is happening now – the critical time when the studio needs to make it’s money to recoup costs.
There are so many other issues to be discussed about this movie – both negative and positive – but I choose this one. Don’t ruin the message because you despise the messenger. After all, Jesus was despised, yet his message spread. Let’s not put God in a box and claim that only a few chosen are “good enough” to spread the gospel. Let’s stop putting actors on pedastels and take responsibility for what we tend to idolize. But most of all: Let God do his thing. Let him use this man and this message to redeem. God knows way better than us anyway.
What I’m listening to: Santus Real’s Fight the Tide
I remember the first time I heard a Dave Matthews song. It was well before they were mainstream and I was standing in line at the cafeteria and two people I knew were singing: What would you say/If you a monkey on a string/If you a doggie on a chain/What would you say. I have no idea why this memory stayed with me; it was probably 10 years ago. It’s weird that I would remember something so insignificant, but I remembered it. Today.
So it couldn’t be more ironic this is how I first heard DMB in light of what I’m writing about now. Today I read the following sentence: There is a space in between us on the journey that we both contribute to.
Years ago the following song was quite popular, and it’s hard for me to forget because it was on the radio when a guy smashed into my car (with me in it) with his pickup. Every time I hear that song, it’s followed by the sound of my blue mercury tracer going “crunch”. Since then, I’m not so much a fan of DMB.
You cannot quit me so quickly
there’s no hope in you for me
No corner y’could squeeze me
But I’ve got all the time for you, love
The space between, the tears we cry
Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
The space between, the wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep us safe from the pain
Will I hold you again?
These fickle, fuddled words confuse me
Like will it rain today?
We waste the hours with talking, talking
These twisted games we’re playing
We’re strange allies
With warring hearts
What a wild-eyed beast you be
The space between, the wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep us safe from the pain
Will I hold you again?
Will I hold you…
Look at us spinning out in the madness of a rollercoaster
You know you went off like the devil in a church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do, my love is hope we don’t take this ship down
The space between, where you smile and hide
Where you’ll find me if I get to go
The space between, the bullets in our fire fight
Is where I’ll be hiding, waiting for you
The rain that falls splashed in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into your room
The space between, our wicked lies
Is where we hope to keep safe from pain
Actually, this song always meant a lot to me because at the time I had a huge space between my best friend and I. Grand canyon level. A friend I had known for two short years at the time. The first friend I made when I moved back to Nebraska. Now? That canyon is twice the size. I hate that my life has become a series of failed friendships.
The space between my former best friend’s heart and mine is getting closer. At least on my end. But this sentence that I read today “There is a space in between us on the journey that we both contribute to” was written by a different former best friend. Coincidence? This same person was also one singing “What Would You Say” in the cafeteria line all those years ago. Spooky. Ironic, actually.
So my space is closing in. Maybe my other friend’s is also. Maybe it’s time.
Time to contribute.
I miss my friend. That much I know. Maybe I don’t need to know anything else.
Stephanie Nelson 