the Pause

Driving home from our Good Friday service this evening, I was reminded of the night years ago when I went with my college friends to see The Passion of the Christ in theaters. I was worried about seeing the movie with so many people, because each of us responds to gravity in different ways. I didn't want to be pulled out of the experience because someone couldn't handle grief or awe in silence, and yet I also wanted to experience those things in community. It was a risk worth taking.

In the end I sat next to a good friend who understood more than most people how to serve and be served by others in the weighty moments. I don't think we said a word to each other during or after the film, but we certainly felt free to cry. Another friend drove me home, and we were mostly silent the entire way. I know that at some point we discussed it, but I can't remember when. Whenever it was, it was the right time.

Knowing the time, and understanding the space surrounding grief is something you learn when you live long enough with others. When my grandfather passed away in his hospice bed that we set up in the back room, I learned to take time with him, and I learned to take time with my father, and I learned to give time to my mother, and to give and not to give space.

When I look back at my richest friendships, the ones I miss most deeply, I see in them so many moments like this. When I came home for Christmas after my first semester at Wheaton and cried with Tara in her living room. Or the weekend spent on White Head Island off the coast of Grand Manan, sitting at the kitchen table and acknowledging in hushed whispers things that had gone unsaid for a painful year. On the hill outside Blanchard, in the strange cafeteria two minutes from my flat, on so many Starbucks patios across the country, and perhaps once in a Panda Express. We learn in community when to speak and to keep silent, how to hold and carry each other or simply to walk beside. That community might look silly sometimes, but there's nothing silly at the heart of it.

Good Friday is the one day every year when I learn and put into practice what I have learned everything about the pause, the time, the space, the wait. And every year on Good Friday I am grateful to those who have learned it with me. If you are one of them, I thank you. 

Last fall I went to an open mic with my friend Carole Crocco. She sang some songs, they were beautiful. A while later there was another one - she sang, I read a poem, someone made me an origami crane. Last week, Carole opened an open mic downtown with half an hour of just her and her music. The place was packed because, fancy that, lots of people love her! I've had this song stuck in my head ever since. If you're gonna have a song replaying in your brain for a full week, you can't do any better than this.

There is more love...

It's an interesting thing to give an appraisal of a person based on their Twitter tagline, or the section on Facebook titled "About Me." I always feel a bit stumped by those requirements of a social networking profile. What do you need to know about me that can be summarized into a single sentence? My profession? My hobbies? My sense of self-deprecating humor? My cynicism toward the world at large and profile summaries in particular? 

There's a similar section in the profile of a Pinterest user, and regular readers know well that I take my Pinterest account very seriously. So it was with much consideration that I decided to forgo the usual descriptors and opt, instead, for a quotation by George MacDonald. 

The line is from the book Sir Gibbie, a novel set high in the Highlands, about a little boy whom no one thinks much of until it turns out that he's very important after all. That's about the vaguest summary of a novel I've ever come up with, but I don't like giving things away. Everyone who bothers to know Gibbie Galbraith loves him, and Gibbie loves everyone in turn. So it shouldn't have been surprising, especially in a novel by George MacDonald, to come across a line like this:

There is more love in the world than anything else.

And yet it was surprising. For me, at least, because the moment I read it, I rejected it. There is more love than anything? I thought. I doubt that. More sin, more like. Or more desire, or more waste. There are plenty of things there might be more of than love. But I couldn't shake it, of course, this suggestion that perhaps I was a little more cynical about the world than it quite deserved.

I decided that I must be wrong. Between MacDonald and myself, I concede to his judgment. He has the Highlands to teach him, after all, and globalization and the advent of the internet doesn't change fundamental human experience so drastically that the measure of love or the lack of it should be tipped to one side of the scale or another. There is, then, more love in the world than anything else.

But I need to be reminded of it, and often. This is why I use MacDonald's line in my profile, not so that others might know me better, but so that I might know myself better. Be reminded, self, that there is, in fact, more love in the world than any other thing. Love is abundant.

When I read them, I am reminded not only of the moment I first encountered the words - because every time I read them I must be convinced again of their truth - but of all the proof I've seen. In particular, I am reminded of Prague, which I wrote about in this very blog some six years ago.

Thunder and rain in Slavic measure.
I kneel before the crucifix in St Nicholas' Cathedral amd shake my hair. Still it drips on the pages. What is there to do?
the tiles and the tourists
30kC to kneel in worship with the sound of the voice of the tourguide leading her wayward crowds with trivia and tidbits of history.
Before me, you are bleeding on the cross, a bit too quiet for my taste - I, no longer kneeling, but thinking of the rain, wonder when you will rend cloud from sky and come down. Meanwhile, I am chilly here on this wooden bench.

(I think I may have just driven out a tour group by praying in here. Flustered tour guide. Huh.)

Leaving the church, a guard in a clean black business suit was keeping people from coming in the exit door. He spoke to them sternly and closed the door firmly in their faces despite loud protest - only to turn and see me quietly waiting to get out. He had a beautiful face, like the guard in St Peter's who let Chaeli pray in the pews after the five o'clock mass. From stern refusal toward those without, he saw me and transformed. Gentling laying a hand on my shoulder, he opened the door again as though he had kept the others out just to make space for my exit. Perhaps he had seen me praying... I think I could live well from the love I glean from strangers alone.

This is what I am reminded of. And this is what it means for there to be more love than any other thing. Have it in abundance, and you will receive it in even fuller measure.

Chief of Sinners

For those not paying very much attention, we are in the midst of Lent. Among other things, Lent is the season in which we observe a humility that remembers our shortfall, the great distance between what we are on our own and what Christ has called us toward, made us for, and redeemed us into. I've quoted Richard John Neuhaus before, a line that I remember particularly during Lent every year: "About chief of sinners I don't know, but what I know about sinners I know chiefly about me." This comes from his book Death on a Friday Afternoon, which I probably mention every year about the same time I'm reminded of this line.

I was reminded of it again yesterday while reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. He addresses the same question, Who among us is the chief of sinners? with the same answer. It brought me back to Neuhaus today, and I think rather than talking about it more, I'll just give you a small passage:

"I may think it modesty when I draw back from declaring myself chief of sinners, but it is more likely a failure of imagination. For what sinner should I speak if not for myself? Of all the billions of people who have lived and of all the thousands whom I have known, whom should I say is the chief of sinners? Surely I am authorized, surely I am competent to speak only for myself? When in the presence of God the subject of sin is raised, how can I help but say that chiefly it is I? Not to confess that I am chiefly the one is not to confess at all."

It is a matter of honesty, and any humility that is not rooted in honesty isn't humility at all. It is also a matter of love, and that is what brings us back to Bonhoeffer. In Life Together, the question of our guilt is raised as a reminder that we come to our neighbors as broken people, children in need of a Savior. Any suggestion that we are less in need than our neighbors is a lie we must disabuse ourselves of if we ever mean to love them with the love of Christ.

"Finally," Bonhoeffer writes, "one extreme thing must be said. To forego self-conceit and to associate with the lowly means, in all soberness and without mincing the matter, to consider oneself the greatest of sinners. . . . There can be no genuine acknowledgment of sin that does not lead to this extremity. If my sin appears to me to be in any way smaller or less detestable in comparison with the sins of others, I am still not recognizing my sinfulness at all. My sin is of necessity the worst, the most grievous, the most reprehensible. Brotherly love will find any number of extenuations for the sins of others; only for my sin is there no apology whatsoever. Therefore my sin is the worst. He who would serve his brother in the fellowship must sink all the way down to these depths of humility*."

In a secular sense, good etiquette requires approaching all people with equal respect, consideration, and sincerity. If you wish to approach any layer of society with an open heart and mind, you need those three things. But I suspect it's not wholly possible, even for the most polite disciple of Emily Post, without the humility of Christ, who bore the consequences of the worst of sinners with a holy willingness, though he himself knew no sin. Better to be his disciple, because in doing so we find not only the most lowly humility but also the adoption into his family. Welcome, then, to the Church, home of the chief of sinners.

*emphasis mine

Upcoming

Later this month, I'll be starting another ten-week book group in which we'll be reading through three Madeleine L'Engle novels along with Walking on Water. I've featured two of them in my "Book Therapy" box on the left, one of which is there now. Like any normal Madeleine L'Engle reader, we'll begin with A Wrinkle in Time. If you haven't read it since you were a kid, now's your chance. Read along with us and tell me what you think.

I have very few expectations for the group, which is probably a good thing. (Few is not the same thing as low, by way of clarification.) Half the attendees have been with us before, and the other half are brand new. We'll see how it goes. 

Open the Mic

Last Saturday I hosted an open mic night at the Seka Coffeehouse at my church. It was a perfect gathering of talent and appreciation, the ultimate expression of creative generosity, and I was honored to be a part of it. I read two poems myself, both of which have been on this blog before. I edited them for the event, and I'm proud of the changes. You can read earlier versions of "I Rode the Devil's Back" and "Glitz" through the links, and the edited version of the latter is below. It's a good example of how the revision of a single stanza can improve the whole.

Watch me bust at the seams
to offer you praise—
and if my dance seems epileptic,
know my heart is full of grace.

My garb is gangly and gauche,
cheap cheesy kitsch and unholy,
but holy's your business—
it's you drawing breath from my lungs.

In this space particular, all I can give
is a song that will break all your crystal—
will rise to the rafters, 
and ruffle the wings of the owls.

While everyone watching thinks:
oh, what a shame!
That such music should come from one
so overweight,
or these notes make their way through
my messes of hair
and emerge from between such
crooked teeth.

They are good enough to wonder in quiet,
neighbor to neighbor, inquiring silent:

How could he be pleased,
How the Lord satisfied,
or the one with the microphone brazen to try?


I ignore all their eyes
and the skin I stand in,
thick in the way of the aria
fit for a king.

Such contradiction
of praise and praiser.

Oh, we all have our highs,
we all have our lows.
We carry our growths
on the sides of our faces—
and maybe they know
and maybe they don't,
but we all limp and shudder,
we tramp and we hulk.

And the bones that aren't broken,
they still quake like we're choking.
The voice that we sing with
fits us like an epileptic.

But.You. Look full on my face.
Bless the place where I stand.
And draw one last note—
out of my throat—
to hold in your enormous hand. 

Guesting

I'm guest posting today over at the remarkable blog of Kathryn Bronn. If you want to see my thoughts on Pinterest, well, that's where you should go.

Conspiracy

A couple months ago when Instagram released their new terms of service and everyone got in a great huff over infringements to their privacy, a friend asked if I was going to close my account and quit using them to share pictures. I thought about it for a minute and realized that no, I wouldn't. By the time the new terms of service came into effect, either someone would discover that the hullaboo was over a misreading of the new terms, or Instagram would have fixed the problem to keep their good name.

Within days, the latter happened. We're all still taking our pictures with Instagram, and nothing is amiss* - as far as we know. I'd like to say this is a sign of some divine presentiment within me, but it's not so complicated.

We all find some lessons easier to learn than others, and this has been easy for me: to avoid panic based on supposition. It's one of the reasons I've never been particularly moved by end of the world theories, of either the evangelical or the Mayan sort. I have been trying to pinpoint when I first learned this lesson, especially as I've had cause to think of it more often than usual lately.

It was when I first came across the verse in Isaiah: "Do not call conspiracy everything that these people call conspiracy; do not fear what they fear, and do not dread it" (8:12). I remember when I first read that and took it to heart. And I really took it to heart, more than usual - perhaps because it seemed to allow me a freedom that was natural to me to begin with.

There are other verses about standing firm, or not following every wave of doctrine, or avoiding faddish philosophies, but they don't mean quite the same thing. "Do not call conspiracy..." is not just about being level-headed or avoiding panic, and it's not about being easily gullible. It means that we should wait to know the truth of a matter before we act on it. We should wait to rise against injustice until we are seeing with clear eyes. The short version: Be wise.

I think there's more for me to learn. But I am grateful for the pause before the leap. The hesitation before assumption. And I pray against any impulse that might make me too quick to fear.

*I am very aware that Instagram would not have bothered to correct their terms if people hadn't kicked up a load of dust. Let us consider this the blessing of human variety.

Go for a walk.

I had reason to walk down First Street this evening. The sun was just below the trees, the air cool enough for my ubiquitous purple coat, and everything quiet enough for reflection. Walks are good for the soul, but I don't take them very often because I'm lazy or careless or both. I've written plenty of poems out of good walks ("Crossing Main Street" and "Let Me Be Like a Leaf" come to mind), most of which rank among my personal favorites.

I didn't write a poem this evening, but if I did, it would have something to do with the wilting camelias scattered in the driveway, or the lost four-square ball by the curb, or the burnt-out building abandoned these past four and a half years which someone has recently deigned to decorate with two potted plants. I'm not sure what the point of the poem would be, though if I'd let the walk be longer, or if I'd faithfully refused to pull out my phone during the last leg, I might have thought of something.

There are triggers for creativity, and there are triggers for the lack of it.   

2013 - Resolved, to write letters.

One of the things I wanted to do more of this past year, and which I am even more resolved to do this year, is to write more letters.

I used to write letters all the time. It was something I enjoyed, something others enjoyed receiving, and it gradually became both a part of who I was and a part of knowing me.

I have gathered a good deal of stationery recently, as well as some postcards. I'm going to be writing many letters in the next few weeks, to people I know, and even to a few strangers. I don't know what the letters will say yet, or even who will receive them. But I have a few names in mind, and I'm willing to add to the list.

If you'd like a letter from me, let me know. Not here on the blog, where information is unprotected and widely available (unless you feel very safe behind a PO Box or something). But contact me privately on Twitter or Facebook, if you have the means, and let me know where to send something. I can't guarantee anything, because resolutions are notorious for being unmet throughout the world, but I will certainly do my best. 

The Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards

Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God’s help, I do humbly entreat him by his grace to enable me to keep these Resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ’s sake.

Remember to read over these Resolutions once a week.

Overall Life Mission¹

1. Resolved, that I will do whatsoever I think to be most to God’s glory, and my own good, profit and pleasure, in the whole of my duration, without any consideration of the time, whether now, or never so many myriad’s of ages hence. Resolved to do whatever I think to be my duty and most for the good and advantage of mankind in general. Resolved to do this, whatever difficulties I meet with, how many and how great soever.

2. Resolved, to be continually endeavoring to find out some new invention and contrivance to promote the aforementioned things.

3. Resolved, if ever I shall fall and grow dull, so as to neglect to keep any part of these Resolutions, to repent of all I can remember, when I come to myself again.

4. Resolved, never to do any manner of thing, whether in soul or body, less or more, but what tends to the glory of God; nor be, nor suffer it, if I can avoid it.

6. Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live.

22. Resolved, to endeavor to obtain for myself as much happiness, in the other world, as I possibly can, with all the power; might, vigor, and vehemence, yea violence, I am capable of, or can bring myself to exert, in any way that can be thought of.

62. Resolved, never to do anything but duty; and then according to Eph. 6:6-8, do it willingly and cheerfully as unto the Lord, and not to man; “knowing that whatever good thing any man doth, the same shall he receive of the Lord.” June 25 and July 13, 1723.

Good Works

11. Resolved, when I think of any theorem in divinity to be solved, immediately to do what I can towards solving it, if circumstances don’t hinder.

13. Resolved, to be endeavoring to find out fit objects of charity and liberality.

69. Resolved, always to do that, which I shall wish I had done when I see others do it. Aug. 11, 1723.

Time Management

5. Resolved, never to lose one moment of time; but improve it the most profitable way I possibly can.

7. Resolved, never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life.

17. Resolved, that I will live so as I shall wish I had done when I come to die.

18. Resolved, to live so at all times, as I think is best in my devout frames, and when I have clearest notions of things of the gospel, and another world.

19. Resolved, never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if I expected it would not be above an hour, before I should hear the last trump.

37. Resolved, to inquire every night, as I am going to bed, wherein I have been negligent, what sin I have committed, and wherein I have denied myself: also at the end of every week, month and year. Dec. 22 and 26, 1722.

40. Resolved, to inquire every night, before I go to bed, whether I have acted in the best way I possibly could, with respect to eating and drinking. Jan. 7, 1723.

41. Resolved, to ask myself at the end of every day, week, month and year, wherein I could possibly in any respect have done better. Jan. 11, 1723.

50.Resolved, I will act so as I think I shall judge would have been best, and most prudent, when I come into the future world. July 5, 1723.

51.Resolved, that I will act so, in every respect, as I think I shall wish I had done, if I should at last be damned. July 8, 1723.

52. I frequently hear persons in old age say how they would live, if they were to live their lives over again: Resolved, that I will live just so as I can think I shall wish I had done, supposing I live to old age. July 8, 1723.

55. Resolved, to endeavor to my utmost to act as I can think I should do, if I had already seen the happiness of heaven, and hell torments. July 8, 1723.

61. Resolved, that I will not give way to that listlessness which I find unbends and relaxes my mind from being fully and fixedly set on religion, whatever excuse I may have for it-that what my listlessness inclines me to do, is best to be done, etc. May 21, and July 13, 1723.

Relationships

14. Resolved, never to do anything out of revenge.

15. Resolved, never to suffer the least motions of anger to irrational beings.

16. Resolved, never to speak evil of anyone, so that it shall tend to his dishonor, more or less, upon no account except for some real good.

31. Resolved, never to say anything at all against anybody, but when it is perfectly agreeable to the highest degree of Christian honor, and of love to mankind, agreeable to the lowest humility, and sense of my own faults and failings, and agreeable to the golden rule; often, when I have said anything against anyone, to bring it to, and try it strictly by the test of this Resolution.

33. Resolved, always to do what I can towards making, maintaining, establishing and preserving peace, when it can be without over-balancing detriment in other respects. Dec. 26, 1722.

34. Resolved, in narration’s never to speak anything but the pure and simple verity.

36. Resolved, never to speak evil of any, except I have some particular good call for it. Dec. 19, 1722.

46. Resolved, never to allow the least measure of any fretting uneasiness at my father or mother. Resolved to suffer no effects of it, so much as in the least alteration of speech, or motion of my eve: and to be especially careful of it, with respect to any of our family.

58. Resolved, not only to refrain from an air of dislike, fretfulness, and anger in conversation, but to exhibit an air of love, cheerfulness and benignity. May 27,and July 13, 1723.

59. Resolved, when I am most conscious of provocations to ill nature and anger, that I will strive most to feel and act good-naturedly; yea, at such times, to manifest good nature, though I think that in other respects it would be disadvantageous, and so as would be imprudent at other times. May 12, July 2,and July 13.

66. Resolved, that I will endeavor always to keep a benign aspect, and air of acting and speaking in all places, and in all companies, except it should so happen that duty requires otherwise.

70. Let there be something of benevolence, in all that I speak.

Suffering

9. Resolved, to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.

10. Resolved, when I feel pain, to think of the pains of martyrdom, and of hell.

67. Resolved, after afflictions, to inquire, what I am the better for them, what good I have got by them, and what I might have got by them.

57. Resolved, when I fear misfortunes and adversities, to examine whether ~ have done my duty, and resolve to do it; and let it be just as providence orders it, I will as far as I can, be concerned about nothing but my duty and my sin. June 9, and July 13, 1723.

Character

8. Resolved, to act, in all respects, both speaking and doing, as if nobody had been so vile as I, and as if I had committed the same sins, or had the same infirmities or failings as others; and that I will let the knowledge of their failings promote nothing but shame in myself, and prove only an occasion of my confessing my own sins and misery to God.

12. Resolved, if I take delight in it as a gratification of pride, or vanity, or on any such account, immediately to throw it by.

21. Resolved, never to do anything, which if I should see in another, I should count a just occasion to despise him for, or to think any way the more meanly of him.

32. Resolved, to be strictly and firmly faithful to my trust, that that in Prov. 20:6, “A faithful man who can find?” may not be partly fulfilled in me.

47. Resolved, to endeavor to my utmost to deny whatever is not most agreeable to a good, and universally sweet and benevolent, quiet, peaceable, contented, easy, compassionate, generous, humble, meek, modest, submissive, obliging, diligent and industrious, charitable, even, patient, moderate, forgiving, sincere temper; and to do at all times what such a temper would lead me to. Examine strictly every week, whether I have done so. Sabbath morning. May 5, 1723.

54. Whenever I hear anything spoken in conversation of any person, if I think it would be praiseworthy in me, Resolved to endeavor to imitate it. July 8, 1723.

63. On the supposition, that there never was to be but one individual in the world, at any one time, who was properly a complete Christian, in all respects of a right stamp, having Christianity always shining in its true luster, and appearing excellent and lovely, from whatever part and under whatever character viewed: Resolved, to act just as I would do, if I strove with all my might to be that one, who should live in my time. Jan. 14 and July 3, 1723.

27. Resolved, never willfully to omit anything, except the omission be for the glory of God; and frequently to examine my omissions.

39. Resolved, never to do anything that I so much question the lawfulness of, as that I intend, at the same time, to consider and examine afterwards, whether it be lawful or no; except I as much question the lawfulness of the omission.

20. Resolved, to maintain the strictest temperance in eating and drinking.

Spiritual Life

Assurance

25. Resolved, to examine carefully, and constantly, what that one thing in me is, which causes me in the least to doubt of the love of God; and to direct all my forces against it.

26. Resolved, to cast away such things, as I find do abate my assurance.

48. Resolved, constantly, with the utmost niceness and diligence, and the strictest scrutiny, to be looking into the state of my soul, that I may know whether I have truly an interest in Christ or no; that when I come to die, I may not have any negligence respecting this to repent of. May 26, 1723.

49. Resolved, that this never shall be, if I can help it.

The Scriptures

28. Resolved, to study the Scriptures so steadily, constantly and frequently, as that I may find, and plainly perceive myself to grow in the knowledge of the same.

Prayer

29. Resolved, never to count that a prayer, nor to let that pass as a prayer, nor that as a petition of a prayer, which is so made, that I cannot hope that God will answer it; nor that as a confession, which I cannot hope God will accept.

64. Resolved, when I find those “groanings which cannot be uttered” (Rom. 8:26), of which the Apostle speaks, and those “breakings of soul for the longing it hath,” of which the Psalmist speaks, Psalm 119:20, that I will promote them to the utmost of my power, and that I will not be wear’, of earnestly endeavoring to vent my desires, nor of the repetitions of such earnestness. July 23, and August 10, 1723.

The Lord’s Day

38. Resolved, never to speak anything that is ridiculous, sportive, or matter of laughter on the Lord’s day. Sabbath evening, Dec. 23, 1722.

Vivification of Righteousness

30. Resolved, to strive to my utmost every week to be brought higher in religion, and to a higher exercise of grace, than I was the week before.

42. Resolved, frequently to renew the dedication of myself to God, which was made at my baptism; which I solemnly renewed, when I was received into the communion of the church; and which I have solemnly re-made this twelfth day of January, 1722-23.

43. Resolved, never henceforward, till I die, to act as if I were any way my own, but entirely and altogether God’s, agreeable to what is to be found in Saturday, January 12, 1723.

44- Resolved, that no other end but religion, shall have any influence at all on any of my actions; and that no action shall be, in the least circumstance, any otherwise than the religious end will carry it. Jan.12, 1723.

45. Resolved, never to allow any pleasure or grief, joy or sorrow, nor any affection at all, nor any degree of affection, nor any circumstance relating to it, but what helps religion. Jan. 12-13, 1723.

Mortification of Sin and Self Examination

23. Resolved, frequently to take some deliberate action, which seems most unlikely to be done, for the glory of God, and trace it back to the original intention, designs and ends of it; and if I find it not to be for God’s glory, to repute it as a breach of the 4th Resolution.

24. Resolved, whenever I do any conspicuously evil action, to trace it back, till I come to the original cause; and then both carefully endeavor to do so no more, and to fight and pray with all my might against the original of it.

35. Resolved, whenever I so much question whether I have done my duty, as that my quiet and calm is thereby disturbed, to set it down, and also how the question was resolved. Dec. 18, 1722.

60. Resolved, whenever my feelings begin to appear in the least out of order, when I am conscious of the least uneasiness within, or the least irregularity without, I will then subject myself to the strictest examination. July 4 and 13, 1723.

68. Resolved, to confess frankly to myself all that which I find in myself, either infirmity or sin; and, if it be what concerns religion, also to confess the whole case to God, and implore needed help. July 23 and August 10, 1723.

56. Resolved, never to give over, nor in the least to slacken my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be.

Communion with God

53. Resolved, to improve every opportunity, when I am in the best and happiest frame of mind, to cast and venture my soul on the Lord Jesus Christ, to trust and confide in him, and consecrate myself wholly to him; that from this I may have assurance of my safety, knowing that I confide in my Redeemer. July 8, 1723.

65. Resolved, very much to exercise myself in this all my life long, viz. with the greatest openness I am capable of, to declare my ways to God, and lay open my soul to him: all my sins, temptations, difficulties, sorrows, fears, hopes, desires, and every thing, and every circumstance; according to Dr. Manton’s 27th Sermon on Psalm 119. July 26 and Aug. 10, 1723.

Aug. 17, 1723

¹ The subheadings and categorization are suggested by Matt Perman to increase the readability.

With gratitude, I copied the above from John Piper's website, Desiring God, though they are available many other places online as they are freely available in the public domain.

 

Love the One(s) You're With

2013 is fast approaching, and with it the recollection that resolutions are in order. Who doesn't hope that each new year might bring with it some kind of change, however insignificant? I have a few ideas for new year's resolutions, one of which would go something like "read the books you already own."

Most years I make some resolution regarding books. This past year was 1) to read more and frivolously, and 2) to blog about it. I have a very bad habit of buying more books than I can read, and then going out and getting even more at the library. 2012 has been a year of reading as much as possible, however ridiculous the material - and in the first part of the year I took that very seriously, reading through about thirty young adult novels, among other things, at a remarkable pace, on top of my usual editing load. I flagged off a good deal this fall, and I'm now about ten books behind my goal for the year. But this is not a resolution to get anxious about.

Now I'm looking about me at all of the thicker volumes I've collected that I didn't attend to this year because they would, quite simply, take too long. I think 2013 is the year for them. This means (ideally) finishing Les Miserables (and not just because of the film), War and Peace, and Joseph and His Brothers, as well as the Umberto Eco novel I recently (five months ago) borrowed from some friends, the China Mieville that's been sitting by my bed for too long, and the large stack of non-fiction that has been crying out to me since that ancient age, 2011.

I'll also be leading a few more reading groups in which we'll tackle three or four Madeleine L'Engle titles and C. S. Lewis' space trilogy. I'm looking forward to those, because they're books I love to reread and never, ever tire of. Lastly, I began several series' in 2012 that I will continue reading as the sequels come out. I suspect they will be the only books, at least in the first part of the year, I put on my to-be-read pile that I don't already own.

Happy Day After Christmas

And on a completely unrelated note, there's an interview with Madeleine L'Engle biographer Leonard S. Marcus on Omnivoracious. Whatever you think or feel of Amazon, you gotta love their book bloggers.

"The good news of Christmas is that the atmosphere of fear and hostility isn’t the natural climate for human beings, and it can be changed." - Rowan Williams, courtesy of Ayjay

Freedom or Safety

If blog posts were articles, I'd wait to write this till I'd done some research. But I've been thinking about this topic a lot lately, and that will have to do for now. The topic being, as the title suggests, the relationship between freedom and safety.

I was thinking about this a lot during the election, as I tried to mentally sift the different parties into their fundamental ideals. There being so little harmony between parties, it seemed like a helpful exercise. Why is it that we are so divided? What values are so conflicting that they can create such dissension?

Recent events have brought the two to mind again. I'm not going to give any space here to the massacre at Sandy Hook, because enough has been said and enough can never be said, and that's the way it is with tragedy. I am not ready to attempt to do justice to it.

So, moving slightly through that, I was struck by how quickly people responded to the horror with a call to metaphorical arms against...well, arms. I suppose they would have claimed that there's no better time to discuss gun control than after a violent shooting. I would claim the opposite. Dear people, your politics are in bad taste. And no matter how personal the issue, it's still politics.

But this is not a post about gun control. It's about the choice between freedom and safety. I suspect that choice is at the heart of most political conversation. Do we choose more freedom even though it will put the weak at risk? Or do we choose to protect ourselves and others even if it means sacrificing our freedom? Back in the day, the political theorists who fashioned the building blocks of this country felt that freedom within and safety from without was the best policy. This is an almost ridiculous summary, of course, but it's still pretty accurate.

I bring this up not because I'm feeling political, but because I think this has something to do with us as human beings, at our core. We want to be free! We fear for ourselves! And our attempts to deal with both of these urges are at the heart of our political structures, our personal ideals, our sins and our salvation.

The two will be at odds until the Kingdom of God is realized on earth, or within us. Perhaps that is part of what it means to "work out your salvation with fear and trembling" - the reconciliation of the freedom found in our identity as children of God and the safety that is realized in trusting in his providence.