Did you know Jan has a blog? Jan is Elizabeth's friend from Asbury/ Junaleska, and they both came to K.C. recently to visit IHOP and ME (yay!). Anyway, Jan has a blog, and she wrote about the trip, if you're interested. http://jnstar517.blogspot.com/
She posted a picture of one of the few decorations in the prayer room; it's a sculpture of different postures before the cross. Very nice.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
prodigal
A Prodigal
- Elizabeth Bishop
The brown enormous odor he lived by
was too close, with its breathing and thick hair,
for him to judge. The floor was rotten; the sty
was plastered halfway up with glass-smooth dung.
Light-lashed, self-righteous, above moving snouts,
the pigs' eyes followed him, a cheerful stare--
even to the sow that always ate her young--
till, sickening, he leaned to scratch her head.
But sometimes mornings after drinking bouts
(he hid the pints behind the two-by-fours),
the sunrise glazed the barnyard mud with red
the burning puddles seemed to reassure.
And then he thought he almost might endure
his exile yet another year or more.
But evenings the first star came to warn.
The farmer whom he worked for came at dark
to shut the cows and horses in the barn
beneath their overhanging clouds of hay,
with pitchforks, faint forked lightnings, catching light,
safe and companionable as in the Ark.
The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored.
The lantern--like the sun, going away--
laid on the mud a pacing aureole.
Carrying a bucket along a slimy board,
he felt the bats' uncertain staggering flight,
his shuddering insights, beyond his control,
touching him. But it took him a long time
finally to make up his mind to go home.
- Elizabeth Bishop
The brown enormous odor he lived by
was too close, with its breathing and thick hair,
for him to judge. The floor was rotten; the sty
was plastered halfway up with glass-smooth dung.
Light-lashed, self-righteous, above moving snouts,
the pigs' eyes followed him, a cheerful stare--
even to the sow that always ate her young--
till, sickening, he leaned to scratch her head.
But sometimes mornings after drinking bouts
(he hid the pints behind the two-by-fours),
the sunrise glazed the barnyard mud with red
the burning puddles seemed to reassure.
And then he thought he almost might endure
his exile yet another year or more.
But evenings the first star came to warn.
The farmer whom he worked for came at dark
to shut the cows and horses in the barn
beneath their overhanging clouds of hay,
with pitchforks, faint forked lightnings, catching light,
safe and companionable as in the Ark.
The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored.
The lantern--like the sun, going away--
laid on the mud a pacing aureole.
Carrying a bucket along a slimy board,
he felt the bats' uncertain staggering flight,
his shuddering insights, beyond his control,
touching him. But it took him a long time
finally to make up his mind to go home.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
why i pray
And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints. (Ephesians 6:18)
It has taken me so long to write this because it's a public forum,and this is kind of a private conversation. If I were sitting face to face (say, in a coffee shop) with any of you, we would probably talk about prayer in different ways. Mary and I would talk about the sovereignty of God, Heather and I would talk about spiritual warfare, Mikkee and I would talk about the experience of prayer, Carrie and I would swap stories, etc. So here is my public attempt at a private conversation. Be patient with me.
Basically, I pray because I can't help myself.
There are different kinds of prayer for different moments and seasons. If I am going to be honest, there are moments when I'm only praying to feel better. "God, please let me have enough gas to get to work." "God, please don't let the toddlers wake up from their nap early." "God, don't let the cop behind me pull me over." And, the most earnest of all, "God, please don't let me throw up." But that's only part of the time.
I believe that God uses prayer to bring his will to earth. Jesus tells us to pray for God's kingdom to come, and God's will to be done. I don't think Jesus was just trying to get us to talk to God; I don't think He set up a series of religious exercises for us. If He told us to do something, it was for a reason. He also talks about the harvest being ready, but the workers are few. The teaching is not to go into the field ourselves, but to ASK the Lord of the harvest to send workers. I think that we can try to do good things our entire lives, but if God's Spirit is not on it, we are just beating our heads against a wall. I believe that one of our primary responsibilities as believers is to invite the Spirit to be active in our lives and in the world.
A couple of years ago, God started teaching me how to pray. I'd always prayed, but I don't think I actually believed it mattered. I think I was praying because I didn't know what else to do. One of the first things I learned was that I don't automatically know what to pray for, or what God's will in a situation is. When I pray for a person, the first thing I do is confess that I don't know what God wants to do, and I ask the Holy Spirit to show me what to pray for. Sometimes there's silence on the other end of the line, but sometimes there isn't. As I've learned how to follow the prompting of the Holy Spirit, I have seen some supernatural things happen through prayer. Is that me? Of course not. Is it God using me to bring his will to earth? I think so.
So I believe prayer works. Not just that it helps me feel better, but that it is essential, and we really can't survive in an evil world without it. Sometimes God answers supernaturally, through mysterious checks in the mail, text messages from God, dreams, visions, the audible voice of the Lord. Sometimes He uses more common methods - an unusual phone call, a verse in Scripture, having just enough money to get through the month, someone mailing the clothes you're going to need the day before yours are stolen at the laundromat. Sometimes God answers with a new insight, a thought that makes you angry one day bringing peace the next. But He always answers.
Except when He doesn't, that is. See previous post for more details.
It has taken me so long to write this because it's a public forum,and this is kind of a private conversation. If I were sitting face to face (say, in a coffee shop) with any of you, we would probably talk about prayer in different ways. Mary and I would talk about the sovereignty of God, Heather and I would talk about spiritual warfare, Mikkee and I would talk about the experience of prayer, Carrie and I would swap stories, etc. So here is my public attempt at a private conversation. Be patient with me.
Basically, I pray because I can't help myself.
There are different kinds of prayer for different moments and seasons. If I am going to be honest, there are moments when I'm only praying to feel better. "God, please let me have enough gas to get to work." "God, please don't let the toddlers wake up from their nap early." "God, don't let the cop behind me pull me over." And, the most earnest of all, "God, please don't let me throw up." But that's only part of the time.
I believe that God uses prayer to bring his will to earth. Jesus tells us to pray for God's kingdom to come, and God's will to be done. I don't think Jesus was just trying to get us to talk to God; I don't think He set up a series of religious exercises for us. If He told us to do something, it was for a reason. He also talks about the harvest being ready, but the workers are few. The teaching is not to go into the field ourselves, but to ASK the Lord of the harvest to send workers. I think that we can try to do good things our entire lives, but if God's Spirit is not on it, we are just beating our heads against a wall. I believe that one of our primary responsibilities as believers is to invite the Spirit to be active in our lives and in the world.
A couple of years ago, God started teaching me how to pray. I'd always prayed, but I don't think I actually believed it mattered. I think I was praying because I didn't know what else to do. One of the first things I learned was that I don't automatically know what to pray for, or what God's will in a situation is. When I pray for a person, the first thing I do is confess that I don't know what God wants to do, and I ask the Holy Spirit to show me what to pray for. Sometimes there's silence on the other end of the line, but sometimes there isn't. As I've learned how to follow the prompting of the Holy Spirit, I have seen some supernatural things happen through prayer. Is that me? Of course not. Is it God using me to bring his will to earth? I think so.
So I believe prayer works. Not just that it helps me feel better, but that it is essential, and we really can't survive in an evil world without it. Sometimes God answers supernaturally, through mysterious checks in the mail, text messages from God, dreams, visions, the audible voice of the Lord. Sometimes He uses more common methods - an unusual phone call, a verse in Scripture, having just enough money to get through the month, someone mailing the clothes you're going to need the day before yours are stolen at the laundromat. Sometimes God answers with a new insight, a thought that makes you angry one day bringing peace the next. But He always answers.
Except when He doesn't, that is. See previous post for more details.
Monday, January 23, 2006
A few thoughts on life in a coffee shop
1. It's just COFFEE. For Pete's sake.
2. People spill their guts over their lattes. I've done it too, but - wow - I bet once a day I see someone crying in the cafe. I've also overheard a few deep dark secrets while cleaning the condiment bar. Yikes.
3. Good shoes are a necessary part of life if one intends to stand up for the majority of one's waking hours.
4. I helped a kid buy a gift for a girl yesterday (he was probably 8). He had $2.92 and he wanted to buy something GOOD but he also wanted to have some money left for Wal-mart. He settled on chewing gum and then put his Wal-mart money in the tip jar. It made my day.
5. If you're going through a drive-thru, do not A. scream at anyone in your car; B. sing; C. talk on your cell phone; D. CUT in line (see #1). And yes, the people behind the microphone ARE laughing at you.
6. Overall, I really like my job. I like the structure, I like learning something new (even if it is just coffee). I like being a part of the work force again. The worst part: I spend a lot of my day staring at the register looking for a particular obscure button (like organic milk - how you gonna come to a coffee shop and spend a mint on high priced junk food and then worry about the quality of your milk?). The best part: I love the smells of all of that high priced junk food early in the morning.
Feel free to keep talking about prayer. I'm still working out my thoughts ... I think I've bitten off more than I can chew with this conversation.
Love to you all. Especially the lurkers - Margaret, Cindy, Mikkee, etc. Glad to know you're out there.
Good night,
ssg
2. People spill their guts over their lattes. I've done it too, but - wow - I bet once a day I see someone crying in the cafe. I've also overheard a few deep dark secrets while cleaning the condiment bar. Yikes.
3. Good shoes are a necessary part of life if one intends to stand up for the majority of one's waking hours.
4. I helped a kid buy a gift for a girl yesterday (he was probably 8). He had $2.92 and he wanted to buy something GOOD but he also wanted to have some money left for Wal-mart. He settled on chewing gum and then put his Wal-mart money in the tip jar. It made my day.
5. If you're going through a drive-thru, do not A. scream at anyone in your car; B. sing; C. talk on your cell phone; D. CUT in line (see #1). And yes, the people behind the microphone ARE laughing at you.
6. Overall, I really like my job. I like the structure, I like learning something new (even if it is just coffee). I like being a part of the work force again. The worst part: I spend a lot of my day staring at the register looking for a particular obscure button (like organic milk - how you gonna come to a coffee shop and spend a mint on high priced junk food and then worry about the quality of your milk?). The best part: I love the smells of all of that high priced junk food early in the morning.
Feel free to keep talking about prayer. I'm still working out my thoughts ... I think I've bitten off more than I can chew with this conversation.
Love to you all. Especially the lurkers - Margaret, Cindy, Mikkee, etc. Glad to know you're out there.
Good night,
ssg
Thursday, January 19, 2006
When God is Silent
And this, dear friends, is the beauty of the Internet. That Laurie and Janet and Linda and Mary and Heather can all sit in the same imaginary room and have a conversation about prayer. Look at that.
So, what I'm hearing you say is that God doesn't disappoint you, because you weren't expecting much to begin with. That you weren't praying for something to actually happen, you were praying just to talk to God. If that's true, then you aren't you agreeing that praying makes people feel better, but it doesn't really do anything?
I disagree.
There are two questions here: does it matter if we pray? And, if you think it does, how do you remain faithful when God is silent or says no? For whatever reason, I feel a little more prepared to answer the second question than the first. So I'm going to work backwards. Assuming you do think it matters if you pray, then how do you respond when God is silent?
I have tried and tried to answer this question. I've been working on this for a few days, (not to mention the,what, three years we've been having this conversation?) but I keep writing and deleting and writing the same thing again, and then deleting it again. The truth is that I don't know. Faithful people throughout the Scriptures were beheaded, crucified, stoned, hounded by their enemies. Their daughters were raped, their babies died. Why did those things have to happen? Why didn't God stop them? We can all agree that He could have, and that it was right and logical for faithful people to assume that a loving God would want to. So why didn't he?
Here's how Jesus responded to that question, when John the Baptist presented it to him. In short, Herod was so turned on by his stepdaughter that he promised to give her whatever she wanted, and John's head on a platter is (literally) what she asked for. John, Jesus' cousin and close friend, who devoted his life to preparing the way for the Messiah, is in prison, and will soon be executed. He knows that Jesus is in the area, but Jesus isn't doing anything to help him. He's healing the masses and ignoring the needs of his friend.
So John sends someone to ask, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we wait for another?" When I read that, I hear John saying, what the heck are you doing? Are you really who you say you are? Jesus' response: "Go back and report to John what you see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me."
Jesus is quoting Isaiah. In doing so, He confirms that He is the Messiah and tells John "no" in the same breath. And with the "no" came a promise: "Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me." Jesus never saved John; he died soon after. But Jesus encouraged John and affirmed his significance to God publicly. He turned and said to the crowd, " Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist."
It means a lot to me that Jesus did not criticize John for wondering why, when he needed him the most, Jesus wasn't responding. John had done nothing wrong before God to merit going to prison, nor was he wrong in questioning Jesus. Instead, Jesus said John was blessed if he could accept this, if he did not fall away because of Jesus' silence.
It's hard to accept it, and the living of it sucks. I'm doing it right now, watching every teenager I know get pregnant (no kidding) and wondering what the heck God is doing. But I wasn't promised an easy road, and the reality is that Jesus is hard to follow. While his burden is light, he also demands that we lay down our lives and trust him, even when it is irrational. God is easier - most people believe in the existence of some sort of higher power - but Jesus is hard. This isn't the answer I want, but it's the only one I know. God's ways are not ours. Evil continues to thrive, the rains fall on the righteous and the unrighteous alike, and although it appears that God is not responding, He will not be silent forever. The original question was, "When is God held responsible?" I don't think God owes us an explanation, but I do think people will be held responsible before God one day. There will be justice. Just not yet.
Sometimes Jesus is silent. It isn't fair, and faithful people suffer as a result. Yet we're told to believe God is good anyway, to trust that He takes care of us anyway. It's an issue of faith; it can't be reasoned out, because it just isn't all that rational. Job said, "Though He slay me, yet I will hope in him." Almost every Psalm says the same sentiment - though I am drowning, I will trust God. It isn't logical. Faith never is.
Blessed is the woman who does not fall away on account of Jesus.
So, what I'm hearing you say is that God doesn't disappoint you, because you weren't expecting much to begin with. That you weren't praying for something to actually happen, you were praying just to talk to God. If that's true, then you aren't you agreeing that praying makes people feel better, but it doesn't really do anything?
I disagree.
There are two questions here: does it matter if we pray? And, if you think it does, how do you remain faithful when God is silent or says no? For whatever reason, I feel a little more prepared to answer the second question than the first. So I'm going to work backwards. Assuming you do think it matters if you pray, then how do you respond when God is silent?
I have tried and tried to answer this question. I've been working on this for a few days, (not to mention the,what, three years we've been having this conversation?) but I keep writing and deleting and writing the same thing again, and then deleting it again. The truth is that I don't know. Faithful people throughout the Scriptures were beheaded, crucified, stoned, hounded by their enemies. Their daughters were raped, their babies died. Why did those things have to happen? Why didn't God stop them? We can all agree that He could have, and that it was right and logical for faithful people to assume that a loving God would want to. So why didn't he?
Here's how Jesus responded to that question, when John the Baptist presented it to him. In short, Herod was so turned on by his stepdaughter that he promised to give her whatever she wanted, and John's head on a platter is (literally) what she asked for. John, Jesus' cousin and close friend, who devoted his life to preparing the way for the Messiah, is in prison, and will soon be executed. He knows that Jesus is in the area, but Jesus isn't doing anything to help him. He's healing the masses and ignoring the needs of his friend.
So John sends someone to ask, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we wait for another?" When I read that, I hear John saying, what the heck are you doing? Are you really who you say you are? Jesus' response: "Go back and report to John what you see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me."
Jesus is quoting Isaiah. In doing so, He confirms that He is the Messiah and tells John "no" in the same breath. And with the "no" came a promise: "Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me." Jesus never saved John; he died soon after. But Jesus encouraged John and affirmed his significance to God publicly. He turned and said to the crowd, " Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist."
It means a lot to me that Jesus did not criticize John for wondering why, when he needed him the most, Jesus wasn't responding. John had done nothing wrong before God to merit going to prison, nor was he wrong in questioning Jesus. Instead, Jesus said John was blessed if he could accept this, if he did not fall away because of Jesus' silence.
It's hard to accept it, and the living of it sucks. I'm doing it right now, watching every teenager I know get pregnant (no kidding) and wondering what the heck God is doing. But I wasn't promised an easy road, and the reality is that Jesus is hard to follow. While his burden is light, he also demands that we lay down our lives and trust him, even when it is irrational. God is easier - most people believe in the existence of some sort of higher power - but Jesus is hard. This isn't the answer I want, but it's the only one I know. God's ways are not ours. Evil continues to thrive, the rains fall on the righteous and the unrighteous alike, and although it appears that God is not responding, He will not be silent forever. The original question was, "When is God held responsible?" I don't think God owes us an explanation, but I do think people will be held responsible before God one day. There will be justice. Just not yet.
Sometimes Jesus is silent. It isn't fair, and faithful people suffer as a result. Yet we're told to believe God is good anyway, to trust that He takes care of us anyway. It's an issue of faith; it can't be reasoned out, because it just isn't all that rational. Job said, "Though He slay me, yet I will hope in him." Almost every Psalm says the same sentiment - though I am drowning, I will trust God. It isn't logical. Faith never is.
Blessed is the woman who does not fall away on account of Jesus.
The flogging will continue until morale improves.
SOMEBODY STOLE MY CLOTHES FOR WORK OUT OF THE WASHING MACHINE AT THE LAUNDROMAT. Why my work clothes were in the laundromat instead of in the washing machine at the Searcys is a ridiculously complicated story, so suffice to say that SOMEBODY STOLE MY CLOTHES. My ONLY work clothes.
And? I've learned something very important about myself this week. It is not good for me to spend too much time with people who, like me, put a lot of pressure on themselves to do everything right. It brings out every neurotic tendency that I have - it's the long division feeling, the feeling of trying really really hard to get something right and not being able to and knowing that it's frustrating someone around you and STILL not being able to do it right (long division always produced this kind of anxiety in me). I want to bite my fingernails just thinking about it ...
The flogging will continue until morale improves.
But let's stick with the conversation about prayer.
And? I've learned something very important about myself this week. It is not good for me to spend too much time with people who, like me, put a lot of pressure on themselves to do everything right. It brings out every neurotic tendency that I have - it's the long division feeling, the feeling of trying really really hard to get something right and not being able to and knowing that it's frustrating someone around you and STILL not being able to do it right (long division always produced this kind of anxiety in me). I want to bite my fingernails just thinking about it ...
The flogging will continue until morale improves.
But let's stick with the conversation about prayer.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
believing again
Here is your challenge:
"Praying is a fixed gig. In case you missed Sunday School, here's how it goes.
-Pray to God for something and you'll get it.
-If not, it's in his plan.
Can you see how this could be wrong? When is it God's responsibility to answer?
(referring to someone else) She's never had to be disappointed in God....or wonder is he real or does he just not care? Because you're drowning and every thought in your head is a cry to him and nothing is changing. Things have never really been bad (for her) ... so when could God prove her wrong?"
Here is the question presented to me: Either God doesn't exist, or He's going to do whatever He wants anyway, so what's the point in praying? And if you aren't going to pray, then what's the point in believing?
So I am presenting it to fellow believers: How do you reconcile your faith with the fact that sometimes God doesn't answer the way that we think he should? I'm not talking about when you wanted a puppy and your mom wouldn't let you have one - I'm talking about real stuff. Things that seem clear what the right answer should be - situations that you know a loving God could not want for anyone - that are never resolved. How, after that happens, do you pray again? And why WOULD you pray again? Think about it. Answer on your own blog, if you'd like, and post a link in the comments section. Or take up as much space in the comments as you'd like... I don't mind. Think about your answer, and I'll work on mine, too. We'll see where it takes us.
"Praying is a fixed gig. In case you missed Sunday School, here's how it goes.
-Pray to God for something and you'll get it.
-If not, it's in his plan.
Can you see how this could be wrong? When is it God's responsibility to answer?
(referring to someone else) She's never had to be disappointed in God....or wonder is he real or does he just not care? Because you're drowning and every thought in your head is a cry to him and nothing is changing. Things have never really been bad (for her) ... so when could God prove her wrong?"
Here is the question presented to me: Either God doesn't exist, or He's going to do whatever He wants anyway, so what's the point in praying? And if you aren't going to pray, then what's the point in believing?
So I am presenting it to fellow believers: How do you reconcile your faith with the fact that sometimes God doesn't answer the way that we think he should? I'm not talking about when you wanted a puppy and your mom wouldn't let you have one - I'm talking about real stuff. Things that seem clear what the right answer should be - situations that you know a loving God could not want for anyone - that are never resolved. How, after that happens, do you pray again? And why WOULD you pray again? Think about it. Answer on your own blog, if you'd like, and post a link in the comments section. Or take up as much space in the comments as you'd like... I don't mind. Think about your answer, and I'll work on mine, too. We'll see where it takes us.
Thank you for your patience. A representative will be with you shortly.
I have all of these important things to say. I do! But, lately, I have time obligations that don't allow me to sit indefinitely in front of a computer. Also, silence is the MOST precious commodity in my life right now. I am not so good at writing when children are playing Army Man on my ceiling. So, I offer a poem for the in-between. It's the blog version of Muzak while you hold. Enjoy.
Living in Sin
She had thought the studio would keep itself;
no dust upon the furniture of love.
Half heresy, to wish the taps less vocal,
the panes relieved of grime. A plate of pears,
a piano with a Persian shawl, a cat
stalking the picturesque amusing mouse
had risen at his urging.
Not that at five each separate stair would writhe
under the milkman's tramp; that morning light
so coldly would delineate the scraps
of last night's cheese and three sepulchral bottles;
that on the kitchen shelf among the saucers
a pair of beetle-eyes would fix her own---
envoy from some village in the moldings . . .
Meanwhile, he, with a yawn,
sounded a dozen notes upon the keyboard,
declared it out of tune, shrugged at the mirror,
rubbed at his beard, went out for cigarettes;
while she, jeered by the minor demons,
pulled back the sheets and made the bed and found
a towel to dust the table-top,
and let the coffee-pot boil over on the stove.
By evening she was back in love again,
though not so wholly but throughout the night
she woke sometimes to feel the daylight coming
like a relentless milkman up the stairs.
Adrienne Rich
Living in Sin
She had thought the studio would keep itself;
no dust upon the furniture of love.
Half heresy, to wish the taps less vocal,
the panes relieved of grime. A plate of pears,
a piano with a Persian shawl, a cat
stalking the picturesque amusing mouse
had risen at his urging.
Not that at five each separate stair would writhe
under the milkman's tramp; that morning light
so coldly would delineate the scraps
of last night's cheese and three sepulchral bottles;
that on the kitchen shelf among the saucers
a pair of beetle-eyes would fix her own---
envoy from some village in the moldings . . .
Meanwhile, he, with a yawn,
sounded a dozen notes upon the keyboard,
declared it out of tune, shrugged at the mirror,
rubbed at his beard, went out for cigarettes;
while she, jeered by the minor demons,
pulled back the sheets and made the bed and found
a towel to dust the table-top,
and let the coffee-pot boil over on the stove.
By evening she was back in love again,
though not so wholly but throughout the night
she woke sometimes to feel the daylight coming
like a relentless milkman up the stairs.
Adrienne Rich
Monday, January 09, 2006
Employed
So, both the Shehane sisters and their respective husbands have all started new jobs. Three out of four of us started work today. How about that ... My sister is working for a law firm, I'm working at everyone's favorite coffee shop, Brian is serving tables, and David is making copies. And our parents can sleep again, knowing that all their chil'ren are gainfully employed.
My dad, by the way, retired last week after THIRTY NINE YEARS of work. By the time he was my age, he'd already been to war and back and had been working in his chosen profession for 8 years. It's hard to imagine that anyone in our generation is going to be able to say the same.
Sleep tight,
ssg
My dad, by the way, retired last week after THIRTY NINE YEARS of work. By the time he was my age, he'd already been to war and back and had been working in his chosen profession for 8 years. It's hard to imagine that anyone in our generation is going to be able to say the same.
Sleep tight,
ssg
Friday, January 06, 2006
books
Lane - who has a new website, very nice - commented recently that it is cheesy to say a book changed his life. It occurs to me that there are several books that have changed me - maybe they haven't changed the course of my life, but they had a significant impact on the way I think or relate to people. So, I offer three categories: 1. Books that changed me, 2. Books that I love, but didn't change me, and 3. Books that wanted to change me, but didn't. But first, a disclaimer - I read a LOT of books. I might write this list today, and write a completely different (and equally accurate) one next week. I reserve the right to add to and/or change my mind at any time. Enjoy.
1. Books that Changed Me
Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry, by Mildred Taylor
My 7th grade English teacher had a shelf from which we had to pick a book and write a report. I chose this one; I still have my teacher's copy. The book is about racism in the Deep South during the Jim Crow era. I read it when I was twelve, and the main character of the book is a girl about the same age. I remember sitting in my prepubescent bedroom one night and looking in the mirror. I tried very hard to imagine what I would look like if I was black, like the girl in my book. I thought about where our house would be, who my friends would be, if I would go to college … and I got angry. As I finished the book, I kept saying out loud, "That's not fair!" It was the first time I saw racism in my little Alabama life for what it was.
White Oleander, by Janet Fitch
It's a beautiful book, it really is. Have all of you read it? There are things that I love about it - it reads like poetry, and I always love the rhythm of words - but that isn't what affected me. When I read this, I understood for the first time that people do the best they can with what they have. That there is always a reason why people do the things they do, and if I don't understand their decisions, then I probably don't know them well enough to see their perspective. It opened my eyes, and still affects the way I relate to people who are different from me.
The Gospels, by God (and some people)
A few years ago, I came to a disturbing realization about my faith: I knew more about Paul than Jesus, and more about morality than trust. So I set out to know the man Jesus better than I knew anyone else. I wanted to be as well-versed in what Jesus said as I was in the Epistles. It took a little while, but the more I read, the more I began to see Jesus as a radical, a man who would not have cared for my religious paraphernalia. I loved reading about Jesus' relationships - how he approached people, what he tolerated and what he didn't, what he loved and hated. It profoundly affected my faith.
The Signature of Jesus, by Brennen Manning
It was our call to radical discipleship, and marked the beginning of a new way of looking at our lives and our future. I can't even say that I loved the book so much as God just spoke to us through it. "All that is not the love of God is meaningless to me" has been my prayer since reading this book.
Honorable Mention:
The Psalms, by God (and David, and Solomon, etc). It took me a while to get into them, but once I could hear the rhythm, I couldn't get enough.
Boundaries, by Cloud and Townsend. Since I have been accused of being a Boundaries Nazi, I won't say anything else about this book.
2. Books that I love, but didn't change me.
Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver (really, anything by Barbara Kingsolver, but I'll use Prodigal Summer for arguments' sake).
I'm convinced that Ms. Kingsolver is a believer. Like Flannery O'Conner, all of her stories ultimately are about redemption. This book is full of life, and I read it during a really happy and hopeful time in my life. My sister was pregnant, we'd just moved into a cute little duplex in Mikkee's neighborhood in Nashville, Elizabeth was my roommate for a summer, and in general, life was good. Prodigal Summer will always remind me of that time, that hopefulness.
Paradise, by Toni Morrison
I can't find anyone (except Valerie, but Valerie has such an inordinate love for books that I can hardly be surprised) to agree with me about this, but I LOVED Paradise. I loved the symbolism about death and life and the magic embodied in healing … I just loved it. Since I read it, I've probably recommended this book a dozen times, and no one else has enjoyed it the way I did. Go figure.
Honorable Mention:
The Collected Stories of Flannery O'Conner (especially "The River"), In the Wake of Home, by Adrienne Rich (which is actually a poem and not a book), "The Open Boat," by Stephen Crane, "Barn Burning," by William Faulkner, "A Jury of Her Peers," by Kate Chopin (all stories, not books - by the way, "A Jury of Her Peers" is a great read for my feminist friends. And doesn't this paragraph remind you of a test on punctuation from high school? But I digress), The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen, Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck, The Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling, and The Hours, by Michael Cunningham.
3. Books that wanted to change me, but didn't.
Passion and Purity, by Elisabeth Elliot. A close second would be I Kissed Dating Good-bye, by Joshua Harris.
When I was in college - and starting to hang out with Brian - dating was out, and "courting" was in. I was more legalistic back then, and when I read Passion and Purity, I started feeling like I was doing something wrong when Brian held my hand. I didn't like that. I also didn't like all of the self-inflicted rules proposed by these types of books. So, um, I kissed the books good-bye, and kissed my boyfriend instead. It worked out okay for me.
The Purpose-Driven Life/Church, by Rick Warren
This guy takes fundamental Christian principles and markets them as though they are the deep truths of God. I don't know who should be more embarrassed - him, for acting as though "God has a plan" is a radical concept, or us, for agreeing with him. I tried to read both books, and couldn't get past the first section.
Every Man's Battle, by Stephen Arterburn and Fred Stoeker
Good Word. I read the first chapter and felt sick. If what I read is true, please don't tell me about it. I don't want to know.
The For Dummies books:
I read one a few years ago. It didn't make me less dumb on that particular topic.
Honorable Mention:
Middlesex, by Jeffry Eugenides
It's incredibly well-written, but it's too graphic for me. Do I really need to know the complete sexual history of three generations of a family? Although I do enjoy the fact that one character is named "The Object" because of her relationship to the main character … nice. But overall, it was too much for me. At the author's defense, I'm not sure it was his goal to change me. So maybe this doesn't really belong in this category. It needs its own - Books I wanted to like, but didn't.
This list kind of exposes my lack of dignity in book choices. My mom is a book snob (and so are some of you, although it pays off for the rest of us that you are so picky. You usually recommend good books), and while I appreciate that logic, I also appreciate a good Oprah book every now and then. Such is life.
1. Books that Changed Me
Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry, by Mildred Taylor
My 7th grade English teacher had a shelf from which we had to pick a book and write a report. I chose this one; I still have my teacher's copy. The book is about racism in the Deep South during the Jim Crow era. I read it when I was twelve, and the main character of the book is a girl about the same age. I remember sitting in my prepubescent bedroom one night and looking in the mirror. I tried very hard to imagine what I would look like if I was black, like the girl in my book. I thought about where our house would be, who my friends would be, if I would go to college … and I got angry. As I finished the book, I kept saying out loud, "That's not fair!" It was the first time I saw racism in my little Alabama life for what it was.
White Oleander, by Janet Fitch
It's a beautiful book, it really is. Have all of you read it? There are things that I love about it - it reads like poetry, and I always love the rhythm of words - but that isn't what affected me. When I read this, I understood for the first time that people do the best they can with what they have. That there is always a reason why people do the things they do, and if I don't understand their decisions, then I probably don't know them well enough to see their perspective. It opened my eyes, and still affects the way I relate to people who are different from me.
The Gospels, by God (and some people)
A few years ago, I came to a disturbing realization about my faith: I knew more about Paul than Jesus, and more about morality than trust. So I set out to know the man Jesus better than I knew anyone else. I wanted to be as well-versed in what Jesus said as I was in the Epistles. It took a little while, but the more I read, the more I began to see Jesus as a radical, a man who would not have cared for my religious paraphernalia. I loved reading about Jesus' relationships - how he approached people, what he tolerated and what he didn't, what he loved and hated. It profoundly affected my faith.
The Signature of Jesus, by Brennen Manning
It was our call to radical discipleship, and marked the beginning of a new way of looking at our lives and our future. I can't even say that I loved the book so much as God just spoke to us through it. "All that is not the love of God is meaningless to me" has been my prayer since reading this book.
Honorable Mention:
The Psalms, by God (and David, and Solomon, etc). It took me a while to get into them, but once I could hear the rhythm, I couldn't get enough.
Boundaries, by Cloud and Townsend. Since I have been accused of being a Boundaries Nazi, I won't say anything else about this book.
2. Books that I love, but didn't change me.
Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver (really, anything by Barbara Kingsolver, but I'll use Prodigal Summer for arguments' sake).
I'm convinced that Ms. Kingsolver is a believer. Like Flannery O'Conner, all of her stories ultimately are about redemption. This book is full of life, and I read it during a really happy and hopeful time in my life. My sister was pregnant, we'd just moved into a cute little duplex in Mikkee's neighborhood in Nashville, Elizabeth was my roommate for a summer, and in general, life was good. Prodigal Summer will always remind me of that time, that hopefulness.
Paradise, by Toni Morrison
I can't find anyone (except Valerie, but Valerie has such an inordinate love for books that I can hardly be surprised) to agree with me about this, but I LOVED Paradise. I loved the symbolism about death and life and the magic embodied in healing … I just loved it. Since I read it, I've probably recommended this book a dozen times, and no one else has enjoyed it the way I did. Go figure.
Honorable Mention:
The Collected Stories of Flannery O'Conner (especially "The River"), In the Wake of Home, by Adrienne Rich (which is actually a poem and not a book), "The Open Boat," by Stephen Crane, "Barn Burning," by William Faulkner, "A Jury of Her Peers," by Kate Chopin (all stories, not books - by the way, "A Jury of Her Peers" is a great read for my feminist friends. And doesn't this paragraph remind you of a test on punctuation from high school? But I digress), The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen, Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck, The Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling, and The Hours, by Michael Cunningham.
3. Books that wanted to change me, but didn't.
Passion and Purity, by Elisabeth Elliot. A close second would be I Kissed Dating Good-bye, by Joshua Harris.
When I was in college - and starting to hang out with Brian - dating was out, and "courting" was in. I was more legalistic back then, and when I read Passion and Purity, I started feeling like I was doing something wrong when Brian held my hand. I didn't like that. I also didn't like all of the self-inflicted rules proposed by these types of books. So, um, I kissed the books good-bye, and kissed my boyfriend instead. It worked out okay for me.
The Purpose-Driven Life/Church, by Rick Warren
This guy takes fundamental Christian principles and markets them as though they are the deep truths of God. I don't know who should be more embarrassed - him, for acting as though "God has a plan" is a radical concept, or us, for agreeing with him. I tried to read both books, and couldn't get past the first section.
Every Man's Battle, by Stephen Arterburn and Fred Stoeker
Good Word. I read the first chapter and felt sick. If what I read is true, please don't tell me about it. I don't want to know.
The For Dummies books:
I read one a few years ago. It didn't make me less dumb on that particular topic.
Honorable Mention:
Middlesex, by Jeffry Eugenides
It's incredibly well-written, but it's too graphic for me. Do I really need to know the complete sexual history of three generations of a family? Although I do enjoy the fact that one character is named "The Object" because of her relationship to the main character … nice. But overall, it was too much for me. At the author's defense, I'm not sure it was his goal to change me. So maybe this doesn't really belong in this category. It needs its own - Books I wanted to like, but didn't.
This list kind of exposes my lack of dignity in book choices. My mom is a book snob (and so are some of you, although it pays off for the rest of us that you are so picky. You usually recommend good books), and while I appreciate that logic, I also appreciate a good Oprah book every now and then. Such is life.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
restoration
This is what has been on my mind lately, as I have become aware of how completely God has restored life to a sweet friend of mine. Restoration is a long work of God, and easily dismissed as a product of time or our own good luck. But last week, I had a moment of clarity, and realized that God has done exactly what He said He would do - He really has repaid her for the years that were lost to fear and hopelessness. Over time, He really has exchanged comfort for mourning and praise for despair. God has done that, and my friend is so different now that I can't even imagine how her life was before. I have heard the stories, but she is so different, they are almost unbelievable. Seeing how God has changed her builds my faith - it gives me a new confidence that God really does what He says he will do. Though it takes longer and is much harder than I want it to be, God is always faithful.
It is very exciting to see, but I can't seem to gather up all of my thoughts about it. Every time I try, I end up rambling ... so I offer instead some quotes about restoration that have been running through my head for the past few days.
I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten -
You will have plenty to eat, until you are full,
and you will praise the name of the Lord your God,
who has worked wonders for you;
never again will my people be shamed.
(from Joel 2)
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion -
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
(from Isaiah 61)
And all this time I thought that she had killed me
And all these years I spent in the graveyard weeping
But I feel blood pouring through these veins after all
And I feel blood washing through these stains after all
And I am coming to life
(from The Normals)
It is very exciting to see, but I can't seem to gather up all of my thoughts about it. Every time I try, I end up rambling ... so I offer instead some quotes about restoration that have been running through my head for the past few days.
I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten -
You will have plenty to eat, until you are full,
and you will praise the name of the Lord your God,
who has worked wonders for you;
never again will my people be shamed.
(from Joel 2)
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion -
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
(from Isaiah 61)
And all this time I thought that she had killed me
And all these years I spent in the graveyard weeping
But I feel blood pouring through these veins after all
And I feel blood washing through these stains after all
And I am coming to life
(from The Normals)
croup and forwards: a short rant
The Searcy children are sick. The two-year-old has croup; the three-, four-, seven-, and ten-year-olds have sore throats, runny noses, and coughs. For those who are keeping count, that is five sick kids out of a possible seven. The infant has (thankfully) stayed well, as has the nine-year-old. Also, the three-year-old DOES NOT WANT TO GO POO-POO IN THE POTTY. And if you think this is no big deal, friend, you've never lived with a three-year-old.
Is everyone out there praying for the Searcys? Because you really should be.
Also. I received an email this morning entitled, "I love Jesus." (It was awfully sneaky to take out the "fwd." Tricky, even.) The first line was, "if you love Jesus, send this to at least ten people." Friends, if you love Jesus, go and be well. Love your enemies, deny yourself, feed the hungry, care for those in prison ... but PLEASE don't send me forwards. Especially not today.
Is everyone out there praying for the Searcys? Because you really should be.
Also. I received an email this morning entitled, "I love Jesus." (It was awfully sneaky to take out the "fwd." Tricky, even.) The first line was, "if you love Jesus, send this to at least ten people." Friends, if you love Jesus, go and be well. Love your enemies, deny yourself, feed the hungry, care for those in prison ... but PLEASE don't send me forwards. Especially not today.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
from The Corrections
"And when the event, the big change in your life, is simply an insight - isn't that a strange thing? That absolutely nothing changes except that you see things differently and you're less fearful and less anxious and generally stronger as a result: isn't it amazing that a completely invisible thing in your head can feel realer than anything you've experienced before? You see things more clearly and you know that you're seeing them more clearly. And it comes to you that this is what it means to love life, this is all anybody who talks seriously about God is ever talking about. Moments like this."
- Jonathan Franzen
(I don't completely agree with the theology here, but I love the quote, anyway.)
- Jonathan Franzen
(I don't completely agree with the theology here, but I love the quote, anyway.)
Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die.
This is what I've been thinking about lately ... sacrifice and following Jesus and looking stupid and being confident even in the moments when I can't rationally answer the question, "So what are you up to?"
More to come ...
ssg
More to come ...
ssg
short update
1. We're back in Kansas. Yay! We had a good December away, but now we're glad to be back in the basement.
2. Being homeless is complicated. Things like dog food - do I buy the big bag? Because if I do, I have to cart the big bag all over the place, but it's cheaper per pound - and driver's licenses - of which I've had three in 2005, thank you Alabama for strange regulations about expiration dates and proof of address - require more thought these days.
3. I no longer have intravaneous internet access, so if you email me, it might take a day or two for me to respond.
Ok, that's all. On to more important thoughts ...
2. Being homeless is complicated. Things like dog food - do I buy the big bag? Because if I do, I have to cart the big bag all over the place, but it's cheaper per pound - and driver's licenses - of which I've had three in 2005, thank you Alabama for strange regulations about expiration dates and proof of address - require more thought these days.
3. I no longer have intravaneous internet access, so if you email me, it might take a day or two for me to respond.
Ok, that's all. On to more important thoughts ...
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