previous thoughts

While in the middle of a dreadful paper writing process I was reminded of something I'd written last summer. I thought I'd blogged it at some point, but upon searching for it - to use part of it in my current paper, I didn't find it. So I thought I'd post part of the previous paper, if, for no other reason, longevity:

The wise King Solomon concluded: “When I applied my mind to know wisdom and to observe man’s labor on earth—his eyes not seeing sleep day or night—then I saw all that God has done. No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all his efforts to search it out, man cannot discover its meaning. Even if a wise man claims he knows, he cannot really comprehend it. So I reflected on all this and concluded that the righteous and the wise and what they do are in God’s hands, but no man knows whether love or hate awaits him. All share a common destiny—the righteous and the wicked, the good and the bad, the clean and the unclean, those who offer sacrifices and those who do not.” And even while Jesus contradicted the Pharisees’ theories that suffering comes to those who deserve it, He still avoided directly answering the questions for the cause.

Man’s Search For Meaning [Victor Frankl] caused me to revisit a few other great men who pursued the meaning of suffering—the first being Henri Nouwen. The celibate homosexual priest wrote in Making All Things New, “Poverty, pain, struggle, anguish, agony, and even inner darkness may continue to be part of our experience. They may even be God’s way of purifying us. But life is no longer boring, resentful, depressing, or lonely because we have come to know that everything that happens is part of our way to the house of the Father."

The second—John Donne, of whom Philip Yancey writes in his book Soul Survivor:
"As Donne began to reexamine his life, surprises came to light. 'I am the man that hath seen affliction,' Donne had told the congregation at his wife's funeral. It now seemed clear, though, that those times of affliction, the circumstances he most resented at the time, turned out to be the very occasions of spiritual growth. Trials had purged sin and developed character; poverty had taught him dependence on God and cleansed him of greed; failure and public disgrace had helped cure pride and ambition. Perhaps God's own hand had blocked his career--a devastating disappointment at the time—in order to prepare him for the ministry? A definite pattern emerged: pain could be transformed, even redeemed, and apparent evil sometimes results in actual good. Suffering not removed may serve as God's tool…In a word, Donne realized he was not 'in-valid.' He directed his energy toward spiritual disciplines: prayer, confession of sins, keeping a journal (which became Devotions). He got his mind off himself and onto others. The Devotions thus record a crucial shift in Donne's attitude toward pain. He began with prayers that the pain be removed; he ends with prayers that the pain be redeemed, that he be 'catechized by affliction.' Such redemption might take the form of miraculous cure--he still hoped so--but even if it did not, God could take a crude lump and through the refiner's fire of suffering make of it pure gold."

Here's my encouragement: seek Him where Job sought Him, and found Him. Seek Him in a humble, broken, believing heart. Go on seeking Him in a still more, and a still more, humble, broken, believing heart. Seek Him deep enough, and long enough: seek Him with your whole heart; and sooner, or later, you will find Him.

I admire one of Frankl’s greatest conclusions regarding the question of what to do with the journey of suffering and life figuratively expressed:
“The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? ‘No, thank you,’ he will think. ‘Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.’”

Much the same, G.K. Chesterton wrote, “The modern age is characterized by a sadness that calls for a new kind of prophet, not like the prophets of old who reminded people that they were going to die, but someone who would remind them they are not dead yet.” These great observers are again reminiscent of King Solomon and his conclusions regarding his own experiences and search for meaning: “So I commend the enjoyment of life, because nothing is better for a man under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany him in his work all the days of the life God has given him under the sun.”

Viktor decided, “The crowning experience of all, for the homecoming man, is the wonderful feeling that, after all he has suffered, there is nothing he need fear any more—except his God.” How very eloquently put in regards to one leaving the concentration camp for his desired “home” in the present tense. Even more so for the believer in the sense that “home” will mean to be one day present with the Lord God Almighty after enduring our call in this world for a time. The last and true “homecoming” means to be received home to the arms of our all-loving Savior – here, there, or in the air.

giving you something to read

my friend wrote this awhile back: "i have heard that you are not suppose to go shopping when you are hungry because you will end up buying everything that you never really needed or wanted. i have decided that this is a basic rule when dealing with the opposite sex. don't go shopping when you are hungry because at some point you are going to come home and say 'how the heck did i end up with this.' make sure that you are full folks so you don't come home with crap."

This has nothing to do with my current situation mind you. I just ran across it again and thought it incredibly wise, not to mention ever-so elegantly written. ;)

My own piece of wisdom came to me yesterday while trampolining at the new Jump-Street in Littleton. the trampolines were a little different than the original Jump-Street - something I wasn't fond of in the moment. I had to work harder to bounce higher and I admitted that it wasn't as fun and sucked up some of my motivation to try new tricks. So my processing thought wondered "maybe the extra work will be more beneficial in the end for my betterment?" Perhaps I got a better cardio workout because I had to work a little harder even though I didn't have as much fun? Either way, there can be benefits to any situation - I just have to be aware of their possibilities. And, I practically broke my neck on the "springy-er" tramps...

Being Naked

Forgive me for not having much time recently for originality, but I think you should read some deep thoughts about being naked from Stuff Christians Like:

I don't want to brag, but I'm pretty awesome at applying band-aids. And make no mistake, there is an art. Because if you go too quickly and unpeel them the wrong way, they stick to themselves and you end up with a wadded up useless mess instead of the Little Mermaid festooned bandage your daughter so desperately wants to apply to a boo boo that may in fact be 100% fictional.

Half of the injuries I treat at the Acuff house are invisible or simply wounds of sympathy. My oldest daughter will scrape her knee and my 3-year old, realizing the band aid box is open will say, "Yo dad, I'd like to get in on that too. What do you say we put one on, I don't know, my ankle. Yeah, my ankle, let's pretend that's hurt."

But sometimes the cuts are real, like the day my 5-year old got a scrape on her face playing in the front yard. I rushed in the house and returned with a princess bandage. As I bent down to apply it to her forehead, her eyes filled up with tears and she shrunk back from me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't want to wear that band-aid." She replied.

"Why? You have a cut, you need a band-aid." I said.

"I'll look silly." She answered.

Other than her sister and her mom, there was no one else in the yard. None of her friends were over, cars were not streaming passed our house and watching us play, the world was pretty empty at that moment. But for the first time I can remember, she felt shame. She had discovered shame. Somewhere, some how, this little 5 year old had learned to be afraid of looking silly. If I was smarter, if I had been better prepared for the transition from little toddler to little girl, I might have asked her this:

"Who told you that you were silly?"

I didn't though. That question didn't bloom in my head until much later and I didn't understand it until I saw God ask a similar question in Genesis 3:11. To me, this is one of the saddest and most profoundly beautiful verses in the entire Bible. Adam and Eve have fallen. The apple is a core. The snake has spoken. The dream appears crushed. As they hide from God under clothes they've hastily sewn together, He appears and asks them a simple question:

"Who told you that you were naked?"

There is hurt in God's voice as He asks this question, but there is also a deep sadness, the sense of a father holding a daughter that has for the first time ever, wrapped herself in shame.

Who told you that you were not enough?

Who told you that I didn't love you?

Who told you that there was something outside of me you needed?

Who told you that you were ugly?

Who told you that your dream was foolish?

Who told you that you would never have a child?

Who told you that you would never be a father?

Who told you that you weren't a good mother?

Who told you that without a job you aren't worth anything?

Who told you that you'll never know love again?

Who told you that this was all there is?

Who told you that you were naked?

I don't know when you discovered shame. I don’t know when you discovered that there were
people that might think you are silly or dumb or not a good writer or a husband or a friend. I don't know what lies you've been told by other people or maybe even by yourself.

But in response to what you are hearing from everyone else, God is still asking the question, "Who told you that you were naked?"

And He's still asking us that question because we are not.

In Christ we are not worthless.

In Christ we are not hopeless.

In Christ we are not dumb or ugly or forgotten.

In Christ we are not naked.

Isaiah 61:10 it says:
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.

The world may try to tell you a thousand different things today. You might close this post and hear a million declarations of what you are or who you'll always be, but know this.

As unbelievable as it sounds and as much as I never expected to type this sentence on this blog:

You are not naked.

want your brain to hurt?

Want your brain to hurt? Why'd God create that blasted tree?

Joel, i mean the tree in the garden of Eden. Yes, libertarian freedom vs. exhaustive divine foreknowledge. I stayed away from the apple tree, because it might not have been an apple tree!