Procrastination and Me

The beauty (and horror) of procrastination lies in the fact that an onerous task or project, if delayed long enough, will no longer be possible to complete, at least with any reasonable hope of success. With rationalization and excuses as my close companions, I continually deferred the work necessary to prepare for graduate school to some later time. While I achieved an A+ in my first course in introductory Greek, I give myself a D for my lacklustre efforts in planning school for next year. As a student, I generally succeeded in the battle against procrastination, at least in the realm of academics. But as I consider my poor performance in this area, I am gaining new insight into myself.
Why is it that I have always had an easier time accepting Jesus' words "Without me you can do nothing", than appropriating Paul's assertion "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me"? Why is it I can be relatively content in repetitive, mind-numbing work, and fear any venture into the unknown? Can it be I really did not want to succeed in my efforts at planning and applications, and really I wanted to try and ultimately fail, proving to myself that this endeavour was not for me? Because I am afraid, afraid of the unknown, afraid of failure, afraid that I don't have what it takes. I am afraid of being far from home, afraid of illness, of debt, and ultimate futility. I am afraid that I can't even succeed at what God is calling me to in my life, whatever that may be.
At one point in my life, I began to narrow the area where I demanded competency and excellence from myself. Many things I haven't even attempted to do. My mother was frustrated at my attempts to prove that I could not sew a button onto my pants. But I see this as a picture of the many skills I have decided I can't master. My area where I demanded mastery, competence, and excellence was the realm of academic achievement, but other endeavours, for example, in the realm of friendships and social life, I accepted, even expected, failure. In all honesty, I can understand the servant in the parable who buried his talent in the ground.
I need to find out what God is calling me to do with the gifts and interests he has given to me, my area of service and my specific vocation (which may or may not be connected to a specific career). I need to realize that I can do whatever God has called me to, the "all things" Paul speaks of, and I can succeed at many other life skills as well. I need to replace my fears with faith and confidence in Christ who strengthens me, and I need to work hard at any true vision God gives me for my life. I need to realize the true failure is not trying, is burying the gold talent deep in the ground, of living a life of safe and shallow selfishness. And with all this emphasis on doing, maybe I need to balance that with a realization of being, my identity in Christ as a child of God, who I am created and redeemed to be.

Meeting My Nephew Owen

Here is a picture of me with my nephew Owen who I met for the first time last week. I just took it from my sister's blog where there are more pictures of this adorable child with his many doting relatives, but I wanted something on my blog to commemorate the joy of meeting Owen. Owen is the little son of my sister Karen and brother-in-law Clint, a definite answer to prayer. He was born on October 17, 2006, so he is nearly three months old. The first time I held Owen, he screamed in protest and I couldn't calm him, but later I got to hold him when he was content and smiling. He has the sweetest smile, so big and all gums. I especially liked to see him smile at my sister and calm right down in her arms. He is happiest after his feeding and unhappiest when he is tired or when held or passed in a way he doesn't like. Owen is now on his way to Ottawa on the train with his parents and then will be returning to Saskatchewan Tuesday on a four hour flight that will first go to Calgary. Prayers for the flight home would be appreciated as Owen generally needs a car seat or a bed to sleep and doesn't sleep in people's arms very often. The time with Owen was too brief and I hope I can visit Saskatchewan sometime before he starts walking. It was so good to see Karen and Clint again, but seeing Owen was extra special.

My Education in Hindsight

My friend laughed at me recently when I told her that while I had appreciated the book she had lent to me and been moved to tears numerous times and had recognized the profundity of the truths so clearly laid out, I had resisted the way they were quoting Scriptures without references to original context. I explained that there were several steps to take before applying the passage to women in the church today, since the passage was using feminine imagery to speak of the nation of Israel. "Yes, she said, "But what is said of Israel applies to the church today and so to women in the church." I insisted that the original context and these steps in between should be acknowledged by the authors, as responsible biblical interpretation. I could make the leap, I knew the original context and the steps in between (moving from Israel to the church to women today) but what about other readers? I still think this is a valid point, although it would have interrupted the flow of the argument quite a bit and diminished the beauty of the book. But I got to thinking that along with the knowledge I gleaned from my professors, I also picked up quite a few prejudices. Some of them may be more like convictions, but others are definite prejudices. I picked them up because I respect my professors and their opinions. From my upper level seminar course in Christian worship, taught by a long-time Doctor in Music, I picked up a complete aversion and disgust with the name for God Jehovah. He explained that this was an ignorant translation from the Hebrew name YHWH (written ofcourse in Hebrew characters without vowels). This name was not even pronounced by the Jews, it was so sacred and holy. So this name was badly phonetically mangled with vowels placed in and became the name Jehovah. Now any song, whether contemporary or an old version of a hymn, that uses the name Jehovah, sets my teeth on edge, even if I like the other words or messages in the song.
A short list of some other prejudices (or perhaps convictions, as some may be valid) some gleaned from my Church History classes and others from my Philosophy of Religion course include:
1) A firm belief that the national anthem should not be sung in a church service unless it follows the benediction, hence technically not being in the service.
2) A belief Canada's, the United State's, and/or Israel's flag should not be in a church sanctuary. A grudging permission for the nations of the world's flags to be all displayed.
3) A sense of anger at the sight of Canada's flag drapped over the cross, all but obscuring the religious symbol. A vague feeling these symbols should not mix.
4) A belief that baptism should only happen once. I have since let this one go a little. Most in my immediate family have been rebaptized. When pressured by a pastor as a young adult, I refused on the principle that my baptism as an infant was equally valid, I had professed my faith already, and no other baptism was needed.
5) A sense that worship, if not completely orderly, should at least be dignified. I guess I wouldn't get along with King David too well.

I recognize that most of these are minor things, not worth getting upset over and really it would be better to not let these things annoy me, particularly if it hinders my unity with other brothers and sisters in Christ. None of them are things I would nail on a church door to demand reformation. What is important is a heart of worship, to worship in spirit and in truth, and this can be done in a sanctuary with a flag of Canada or the US in it as well as in a church bare of national symbols.

One belief, held by some of my professors, that women should not be ordained, I never did pick up. Some may call it rebellion, which is probably one of the reasons I said as a young girl that I would some day like to be a pastor (an ordained one). (This was not then possible in my denomination, hence its attraction.) Now I think a lot of it is simply respect for some women who I know through personal connections or by books or magazines I've read or speakers I've heard, who personally feel a call to pastoral or preaching ministry. Anne Graham Lotz at a conference I recently attended something like that if people have a problem with a women (in preaching or pastoral role or spiritual leadership role), then they need to take it up with Jesus, because he called them. At university I did a paper on the difficult passage in II Timothy, often cited as evidence of a universal prohibitation against women teaching or having authority over a man in the church. At the time I concluded that I hadn't found compelling evidence in the sources I had come across that the passage could be responsibly interpreted in a way to support my rather faint belief that some women are called to spiritual authority in a church along with men, though all Christians are called to both submission to the spiritual authorities God has placed over them and to mutual submission as believers. In my mind, the spiritual headship of a husband, clearly taught in the Bible, was distinct from the relationship of men and women in the church; that is simply because a person was male he was not qualified to command and control a woman in the church; he needed to be in a position of authority himself and that authority should never be exercised in a domineering way regardless of anyone's gender. My friend recently wrote a paper on the same topic, and found different, more scholarly and convincing sources, and came to the conclusion that this could be responsibly and faithfully argued.

I also lost some prejudices, most notably my sense of outrage at the apostle Paul who I was convinced was a sexist apostle, rather full of himself even. I based this on three passages in particular that angered me. I guess they angered me more because of how they have been used and interpreted by others. My Church History and History of Eastern Orthodoxy courses took away a lot of my prejudices, opened my eyes to the beauty of other traditions and the wisdom of the Church Fathers, and instilled in me a passion for ecumenicalism and unity among brothers and sisters in Christ from all traditions and varieties holding to the essential creeds we share. Thanks to my church history professor, I started distrusting the NIV slightly, though I have always enjoyed its beautiful cadences and clear translation, and have since decided that in some cases the translators were hindered by evangelical or male prejudice that coloured their translation. In fact any translation must necessarily be an interpretation as well, because often the ambiguity that may be in the Greek cannot remain in the English translation.

She imagined serving tea to her friend in her tidy, cozy apartment with carefully swept floor and gleaming countertop. She would offer her friend a small square served on an elegant plate, laugh brightly and speak companionably, sharing her recent insights and offering a listening ear.

Now her friend sat across from her in an apartment reflecting the disorder of her own mind. Articles of clothing were strewn about and a small, pathetic assortment of unwrapped presents scattered on her couch. The kitchen countertop was cluttered with dishes and the table top was scattered with papers. She poured the tea shakily and then she told her friend painful, secret things, things she hadn't even admitted to herself. She wept and was ashamed, but she knew that this was herself as she truly was, the real person, more than the brave face she showed to the rest of the world.
And she knew that she was broken, and that she needed God. Suddenly she saw she had spoken about the will of God, more than she had sought it. That she had spoken about God, more than she had spoken to him. And that perhaps she had more in common with Job's friends than she had ever suspected. And she saw that she had searched for a dream, something big that everyone could recognize as great, some grand purpose that could swallow up all her pain. She saw she had misinterpreted, missed the mark, that she had wanted some guarantee from God of a bright, shining future. She realized this desire was the opposite of faith. She realized now what God did promise, and what he did not promise. She saw she needed to serve God now, not after he met her demands, that she needed to worship him even if healing never came in the way she wanted. She saw she needed to entrust him with her life, to offer him her wounded heart.
And in the midst of the overthrow of pretensions and the laying bare, in the turmoil of the collapse of her carefully contructed cardboard castles, she knew one thing could not be shaken, but stood firm. And this knowledge was enough. She knew God had never changed, and that he loved her as she was now. And as the lies, false assumptions, and half truths fled, the truth gradually came flooding in. By looking back she could see the choices she had made, the sin that had enslaved her. And she knew how it had happened, how her life had hovered on the brink of destruction. She saw the strategy that had kept her in bondage so long, a willing prisoner to fear and anger, sin and shame; she saw the wasted years of her life, when she hadn't lived at all, when she had been a shell of who she was created to be. And she knew that the truth would set her free, that she was forgiven and that beyond this bleak winter was the promise of a new spring when her fragile hope would again blossom and her shattered strength be renewed.

On Growth

It's almost been a month since I last posted. How I feel about this blog really has changed and I am much more self-conscious. I didn't even post anything and then delete it as I so often do, although I did have a couple of ideas for entries. I have been kind of busy with Greek and an application to graduate school. My definition of busyness is probably different from many other people and I tend to focus on just one thing at a time, instead of keeping many balls in the air.

Usually growth is so gradual that it is barely perceptible and regular measuring on a growth chart is the only way to notice the change. Looking back over the past year, I think I have grown in many ways, not always for the reasons I expected. My 40 days of purpose this summer and fall were more a meandering sixty day journey, rather unfocused and after the first fourteen days completely undocumented. The Alpha course I took this fall caused me to grow in ways I didn't expect. I thought a basic course in Christianity wouldn't teach me anything new, but the video presentations by Nicky Gumbel and the fellowship and sharing with people all at different points in their spiritual journey were both absolutely phenomenonal. I am sure with all that great food on Monday nights, I must have grown in other, less welcome, ways. A highlight for me was the Holy Spirit weekend, the weekend before Reformation day, which I spent at St. Thomas the Apostle, a Catholic church where I sensed the unity Christ prayed that we would have and learned from believers of another Christian tradition, as well experienced and learned about the Holy Spirit. We were together with another Alpha group, the first at St. Thomas the Apostle, lead by a woman who had attended Alpha at Immanuel the previous year and whose husband was in our group. I am so sad Alpha is now done, but another group A Life Worth Living will be starting up. I also enjoy the fellowship of my small group but we haven't met as often this year as I would like.
A couple of months ago I was so sure I was going to get another encouraging, uplifting message at a special service, something that would confirm the direction I am taking. I had a life-altering affirmation a year previous by someone who was visiting my parent's church from Elim Ministries. However I was disappointed this time to hear a message that was not relevant for my current life. It made me think about where I am getting my direction from, and I realized I need to seek guidance from God. God has promised to guide those who ask him for wisdom, and Christ has sent the Holy Spirit, so while another person may confirm my direction if that is in God's plan, I need to hear from God myself and follow the Spirit's leading. So now I wait and make plans, but I trust God to direct my steps.
I have been reading through the Message paraphrase of the Bible, which can be very jarring to read after years of solely reading the New International Version. The references to things anarchonistic to biblical times were particularly jarring, but I did really think about what the Bible was saying. The Bible reading plan I choose had its positive things and its pitfalls, and now I am nearly done, I think I will be reading through the Bible more slowly to get out morsels I couldn't really take the time to chew this past year, because I was rushing through the readings. I love God's Word so much and the difficult passages only make it more fascinating, although I never am excited to read Leviticus, and Jeremiah and Ezekiel and even Isaiah seem so long when you are trying to get through them. Reading Hebrews helps to understand Leviticus and sometimes a passage will leap out at you in the prophets and you wonder how you could have missed it.
This time last year I certainly wouldn't have expected I would now be living on my own for the past three months, taking a class in New Testament Greek and contemplating grad school for next year. I do see the hand of God and provision of God in this and I think this living on my own has been a maturing process. I see many more areas for growth, I'd like to display the fruits of the Spirit all the time, even in traffic, to live less by emotion and more by faith and obedience, to be more focused on God and others and less on myself, and I really need to learn how to speak wisely and be silent when necessary. I am growing in the gift of using words to encourage and to express and to speak of truth, but I think I need to examine the proverbs about the tongue. Sometimes you need to speak, but sometimes it is wiser to remain silent. At least your own foolishness will not be as readily apparent.
When God told Abraham to leave his people and go to a distant country, he obeyed and he didn't even really know where he was going. I don't think I would be like that at all, I'd want a road map and a detailed intinerary, and first I would wonder if it really was God speaking to me and who he really was. I think I'd need a few signs, perhaps a fleece-like test like Gideon was granted or the more impressive shadows moving back steps like Hezekiah was given. Abram was told he would be the father of a great nation, but he was old, his wife was barren and past the age of childbearing anyways, and he had not one child. Abraham believed God and he even was willing to give up his own son, the child of promise who came years of soujourning later, and in obedience he was about to sacrifice him, confident God could raise him to life if necessary. The apostle Paul said believers in Christ are children of Abraham and heirs to the promise God gave him. What great faith and how little Abraham had to go on, compared to believers today.

On Surrender

Then Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light."

I came to church very burdened and very hurt. I didn't want to be there and I felt I couldn't praise God. As I sat there I was reminded of how Jesus has set me free, in order to live, how he has made me right with God through his death. Then a wise person reminded me of these words of Jesus. I need to give my burden to him, to surrender what is eating away at me to him. He will give me rest. Sometimes you come to a place where there is nothing you can do, nothing you can say that will help, though it may cause further hurt or pain or division. I was reminded that God is in control, that I can give this situation to him and that I don't have to be burdened or weighed down anymore. Ultimately he will bring healing, redemption, reconciliation, true forgiveness, and he will reveal the truth, not the limited one I know, but his truth.
When I praise him for who he is, what he has done, and what he is doing, the worries and concerns and day to day struggles can fall to the side. Christ is the judge, it is not I, and he is the Truth. I can trust my Father, because he knows what is best for his children. Realizing there is nothing I can do with this mess I am a part of, helps me surrender everything in my life to God. There is so much in my life that needs to change and the Holy Spirit will help me, Jesus will teach me, and his burden, which I take to mean the burden to share his good news with others, is light, not like the burden that I took upon myself. May my words not hurt, not cause division or pain, not build walls, not set me in place as judge. May I be silent when I shouldn't speak, may I live what I confess, and may God's message shine through and may he be glorified.

The Greek Chorus
by Jo-Ann Badley
[with thanks to Jo-Ann Badley and apologies to the late Dr. Seuss]
I do not wish to study Greek
I do not want to be a Geek.
Would you study in your room?
And there prepare to meet your doom?
Would you study at a table?
Would you, could you, were you able?
Would you study on the train?
There, perchance, to strain your brain?
Would you, could you, on term break?
Do it for the gospel's sake?
I will not do it on term break
Not even for the gospel's sake;
I do not like to memorize:
Those funny letters hurt my eyes.
Not in a train, not with my brain,
Not at a table, though I'm able,
Not in my room to meet my doom:
Not here or there or anywhere...
I do not wish to study Greek
I do not want to be a Geek.
Take Greek this term without apology,
Drop anthro- theo- missiology!
Switch to Greek from other classes
It matters not if no-one passes...
Perhaps for you, but not for me:
Greek isn't practical, you see,
I'd rather learn to fix transmissions
I'm a candidate for missions.
Would you take in the summer?
Six weeks of verbs won't make you dumber
You might like the paradigms:
Repeat those lists five thousand times.
I would not, could not, in the summer
For six whole weeks a real bummer!
I will not study Greek at all
Not in summer, not in fall.
Greek is really for the birds
Greek is really just for nerds
I do not wish to study Greek
I do not want to be a Geek.
You do not like it, so you say
Try it, try it, and you may
Try it and you may, I say:
lego, legeis, and legei...
lego, legeis... now I've got it
Whatever it means, I needn't stop it.
This learning Greek is so much fun
A few more weeks and I'll be done.
Now I'll learn those paradigms,
Repeat vocab a million times.
In the summer, in the fall,
I'll do it any time at all.
I'll swap my Greek for other classes,
I won't mind if no one passes.
I will study in a tree,
Now I know that Greek's for me:
I will do a Ph.D.
I will study on term break;
Greek will be a piece of cake.
I will study on a train,
Let conjugations fill my brain.
I will study at a table;
Learn the aorist since I'm able.
I will study in my room,
Morning, night, and afternoon.
I will study here and there:
I will study anywhere!
I do so love to study Greek:
I really want to be a Geek.


My New Testament Greek professor had this poem read in our class and then emailed it to us. This poem is supposed to have Greek letters for "lego, legeis, legei" but those won't publish in blogger.
I love learning Greek; I just hope I can keep it up long enough for it to remain with me and not disappear as French did after highschool. I hope I can use it in biblical scholarship in an academic setting, but even just learning the original language of the New Testament is a valuable thing. I will get a copy of the Greek New Testament next semester from the Bible Society. The second year of Greek is exegesis. And then there is Hebrew, which I really want to learn too, so I can read the Old Testament in its original language. Not everyone understands my attraction to taking this class or recognizes the value of reading the New Testament in its original language, but it is fascinating to me and it will be essential if I am going to be a biblical scholar in post-graduate studies. Ofcourse I am only starting to learn it, but so far it is going well. Too bad I never took it at Redeemer where I studied English and Religion. My brother took it as an elective.

Withdrawal Symptoms (from Friends)

"I was feeling lazy," she said, moseying up to the sink, rinsing the stale water from the dishes, "so I made spaghetti pie. Remember when Mom used to make that? Of course, I didn't use cottage cheese."

"Sisterly solidarity," she said, laughing a little, lilting-like, with her head, tilting-like, going up to kiss the ceiling, "My spinach has been past the due date for a week now, and I'm still eating it."

"Oh, I started sliding a little today--in the rain," she said, sighing, like golden leaves would sigh if they did, "I think I need new tires. Someone said I should just change my front tires with my back tires. Of course, I wouldn't really know how to do that. And when I changed the back ones, the whole front might just roll away."

"She bought her wedding dress," she said, pausing, thoughtfully, with the dish towel limp in her hand. "She described it to me; but you know how sometimes you just can't see it in your mind--what it is that they're describing? I'll have to see it sometime, though."

"Mm hm," I said, typing furiously.

reed elamef a

the thing was so softly spoken,

i couldn't hear--quite,

couldn't make out--quite,

what it was he was saying, what it was

that he so much wanted me to hear

in the grey room with the phone curled, nestled

and sweaty between my ear and shoulder

and we breathing apart, so tired of the voices and stories that we only whispered things,

soft things,

that couldn't really be heard, or even

proven to exist

exegesis

She would walk around, stepping lightly from tile to tile. And she knew she stepped only once on each ceramic plate, because she was always looking down. And this didn't have to be a negative thing, necessarily. It was only when one looked down that one could see foundations of people, feet, and the twisting of the earth, how it grew from the depths upwards and exploded in green things, and buds. She knew this. She liked to look at carpet, too. Carpet could be lush, and purple, or it could be worn, and where there had been uniformity, there were now patches of stark fibres, because no one had tread this part. One could tell a lot about a person by her feet, or his carpet. She knew this. Sometimes it her hurt her eyes to look upward too directly. Sometimes the sky was too blue, and the flames were too orange, and she would blink, startled, and look down again.

thursday night at suzanne's apartment

A small grey turtle on a gnarled log.
Spiked coffee.
I feel...
Awakened.
Then, the macadamia nut cookie cometh.
Minks are mean.
Now...
Let's go bowling.

A Journey of (a metaphorical) 40 Days

In late August I began a rereading of "A Purpose Driven Life". The plan was that I would take the next forty days to read, reflect, and journal the insights I gained and steps I should take. I started off well, reading each section on the appointed day and journaling almost daily. However soon I was writing once a week and then not at all, and finally I wasn't even reading daily. The Forty Days of Purpose stretched into a sixty-five day period that was not entirely purposeful. This time around I learned much and was challenged with ways my life and focus has to change. From the first reading on "it's not about me" (I don't think that insight has fully sunk in yet), I was challenged about purposeful living working out in practical ways of service and obedience.

Sometimes I felt discouraged and doubted I would ever be a world class Christian such as Rick Warren describes or even someone who would share my faith with those who do not know Christ, but I realized that a journey takes time and growth takes time. I am not naturally a servant and I am naturally very self-absorbed so I think it will take some time to grow in these areas. I trust that God will work in me as I work out my faith.

At the same time I was taking an Alpha course and a couple weeks ago spent a wonderful weekend at a Catholic church learning about the Holy Spirit. Our Alpha group combined with another Alpha group and it was wonderful to experience the unity of brothers and sisters in Christ, learning from one another. I am very passionate about ecumenicalism and I love it when different church traditions and denominations can come together in unity, focusing on the essential matters that we have in common. I want to recognize my brothers and sisters in Christ from whatever denomination or tradition.

I'm an aunt!

I have been an aunt for more than twelve hours already. Owen Nicholas Langelaar was born a little after 8 am today. Mother Karen and baby Owen are both doing well. Clint sounded very happy on the message I got after I arrived home from work. Owen weighed 6 pounds and 5 ounces. That's all the detail I know. My Mom is now an Oma, since my Dad really wanted to be called Opa. My sisters have voluntarily taken on the title of Tante Rachel and Christina, but I think I'll just be known as Aunt Suzanne, although I doubt Owen will be able to pronounce my name correctly for quite some time. None of my younger siblings ever got it right. I was Zan and San, when they started talking. I am curious if Owen has reddish blond hair or not, like Karen did when she was born. I suppose I will see pictures posted on their blog within a few days. I will see Owen in person in January, when Karen and Clint are coming to Ontario for a visit.

Answer to Prayer

For those who haven't already heard, I wanted share briefly about a wonderful answer to prayer that I received on Wednesday. I start a new job tomorrow, an office position in Burlington. Very providentially, my new employer was willing to accomodate the class I am taking Tuesday and Thursday morning so I will be working the equivalent of four days a week over five week days. I view this as a blessing from God. I know a number of people were praying for me to find employment as I recently moved out on my own and definitely needed work soon. Now I need grace and confidence as I start the position, but I know I will be given what I need.

Psalm 139 (New International Version)
For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.
1 O LORD, you have searched me
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.

3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.

4 Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.

5 You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.

6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,

10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"

12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

16 your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

17 How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!

18 Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you.

19 If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!

20 They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.

21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD,
and abhor those who rise up against you?

22 I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.

24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Last Sunday morning, exhausted after several nights of poor sleep, worried about my mental state, and stressed out by the move and all the other change in my life, I sat and read this psalm and each word had special significance. I wept, but I felt comforted and I knew this psalm that David had written centuries before was God's word for me for right now. I was given this psalm during a recent time of prayer ministry and it was also a text referred to by an article about confidence and faith vs. self-doubt and fear that spoke directly into my situation. I wasn't at church, but that article was like a sermon written for me. That God knows me intimately, yet loves me is an astounding thought. Sometimes I don't love myself, but God loves me enough to send his Son to die for me. He knows all my negative, anxious, and fearful thoughts, yet he gives me the gift of faith and the ability to make a conscious choice to believe him and his promises. He is there to guide me and his hand is upon me and he is directing my steps. He knows what I will say next and what I am thinking at every moment.

I am not an accident of biology and chance, I am a deliberate creation of a loving God who planned my life before I was ever conceived, who saw me in my mother's womb when she was jumping down sandhills, who, in fact, chose me before the creation of the world to be his child. I asked him if he planned the day I was admitted to the hospital when I could not speak and no longer saw reality, and the nurses seized me and gave me an injection against my will. But I knew that he had been there in the darkness and that he had brought me out of it and had shaped me by it. He wept too and he bore my pain and carried my sorrows and paid for my redemption and healing. To think the God of the universe, the creator of the cosmos, has thoughts of me and cares about the details of my life is hard to wrap my mind around, but it is a truth that I am realizing more and more.

David's interjection about his enemies seems out of place in the psalm and those words did not seem applicable or explicable on that Sunday morning, but his prayer, for God to search him and know his heart, and to test him and know his anxious thoughts, to see if there is any offensive way in him, and to lead him in the way everlasting, became my prayer too.

On Beginnings and Endings

Today I celebrate another birthday. I'm at the age that you stop mentioning your exact age, and I think I could pass for younger than I am. At seventeen someone thought I was thirteen, and people often think my younger brother is older than me. It may be he just looks mature and is taller than me and married. This year will be a big year of change. I quit my unsatisfactory receptionist position a couple of weeks ago, so I am looking for employment. I am in the process of applying to take a course at McMaster University in New Testament Greek with a plan to go back to school in the fall semester of 2007. The class is during the day, so I will need a flexible job or afternoon shift general labour-type job. I'll be moving into my own apartment September 1st, so I finally will be launching out on my own. I have lived three years on campus at Redeemer, but I always came home in the summers and many times during the school year as well. In the midst of all this change and with my unsettled future, I feel remarkably at peace. I guess even though I don't have a job yet and I am moving out on my own, I feel that God is directing my steps and that he will take care of me even if I mistakenly go in the wrong direction. Having said that, I would appreciate your prayers during this time of job searching and launching out, because job searching and uncertainty definitely aren't my favourite things. And if you hear of any suitable job openings in the general Hamilton area I hope you will pass some information my way. I feel very positive about leaving my old job, and I expect that the Giver of all good gifts has something appropriate for me. And when I "consider the lilies" I am reminded not to worry about what I should eat or drink or wear (or about how I will earn my bread and save for the future), because my Heavenly Father knows that I need all these things. I am reminded to seek first his kingdom and all these things will be added unto me as well. My mother and father are also willing to help me if I need it and they are such a blessing with their encouragement, generousity, and support. I have been the longest at home of any of their children and perhaps the slowest to mature, so their patience has been remarkable. Now that I am moving out, they will only remember my good points fondly and forget all the rest.
I was going to post a birthday picture, but that will have to wait. I do plan on changing my picture soon, because I never really liked it. I better go see if everyone is ready to watch the movie I selected.

1. One book that changed your life: The Purpose Driven Life (The Bible has made the most significant impact on my life by far, but Rick Warren's book also changed me and gave me hope for my future. I am going to read it again this September.)
2. One book that you’ve read more than once: Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien
3. One book you’d want on a desert island: The Bible in a Greek, Hebrew, and English edition (not the NIV since I know that version well.)
4. One book that made you laugh: The Indispensible Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Waterson
5. One book that made you cry: The Boys or Waiting for the Electrician's Daughter by John Terpstra
6. One book that you wish had been written: I've thought of a few books I wish had been written like a step by step guide to my bright future or a book showing the way to a healthy medication-free life, but I think I will go with a wish that Jane Austen had written an eighth novel.
7. One book that you wish had never been written: Left Behind by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. In truth, I would have been content if they had stopped after the first book, but even better would have been that the first book was never even conceived of.
8. One book you’re currently reading: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, a book I've already read three times and now have three copies of, since I just purchased Selected Works of the Bronte Sisters.
9. One book you’ve been meaning to read: "To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf
10. Now tag five people: I retag Rachel and Christina and tag Andrea Hensen. I won't tag anyone else.

The Dreamer

I am sure he could have given up, angry at God,
embittered by life. Because after the dreams—dreams
of twelve sheaves of grain and twelve stars, sun and
moon with eleven of the sheaves and thirteen heavenly
orbs–everyone in his large, contentious family in
fact–all bowing before him, the upright sheave and
brightest star—not long after these rapturous visions
came the thirty pieces of silver paid to his jealous
brothers and the bending of his proud neck to slavery
in a foreign land. And after rising to the top of the
household of Potiphar, captain of the palace guard, and
after losing his cloak rather than his virtue to
Potiphar’s lascivious wife came tearful, strident,
and false accusations and incarceration in a dank
prison cell.

(This is when I would have given up, if not before,
holding tight to anger, but relinquishing all belief
in prophetic dreams. I would stare at the prison walls
with stinging tears tracking the dirt on my face, but
I wouldn't stir to high acts of service, let alone
impressive feats of prison organization.)

But the one his rough-edged shepherd brothers mockingly
called "the Dreamer" worked so diligently he was soon
put in charge of all the prisoners. He even interpreted
the prophetic dreams of Pharaoh’s disgraced cupbearer
and baker (you would think he would be sick of dreams),
and his interpretations came true—the painful public
death of the one and the restoration to service of
the other. But his plea to the soon-to-be restored
cupbearer for advocation for his own release from
an unjust imprisonment were forgotten along with the
bad memories of a disgraceful incarceration, eagerly
discarded like soiled prison garb tossed in trash
heap. More years passed in prison, long years of
chaffing bondage. Did any ember of hope remain?

Was he surprised when he was summoned to interpret
Pharaoh’s troubling dreams? Was he staggered when
he was used to save Egypt (and the seed of the
Promise) in a time of severe famine? How did it
feel when, as second highest ruler of the land,
he received the abject bows of the brothers who
had sold him into slavery? Did he then gasp at
the unlikely route of God’s unfolding plan—its
unveiled, once inscrutable purpose?

Moving Out

I am moving to my own apartment in September. It is a bachelor apartment in the basement of a house, quite tiny but adequate provided I minimize my possessions and keep it tidy. It has only a microwave and a hot-plate, but I will buy a high-end toaster oven. The fridge is small and so is the counter-top but there is a lot of cupboard space. The apartment is already furnished, but I will use some of it and bring in some of my own. I am stealing my sister's upper bunk from her room and taking my brother's old futon, so I will have room and a place to sit and an extra bed when needed. There is cable tv (but I don't have a tv yet) and high-speed internet (I just bought a lap-top). I think that these things are included in the very affordable rent. The apartment already looks very nice, but once I decorate it and move my stuff in it will seem more home-y. I am excited to move out on my own, but I will need to get out a lot and do things with friends and volunteer in the evenings or I will feel lonely and cramped. My parents are delighted I'm moving out, although they do suggest I visit fairly regularly. My sister Christina will be moving into my old room, which will be nice for her as her room now is very small. Pictures to follow- they are still on my Mom's camera and not on the computer.

Disjointed Musings of the Sleep-Deprived or Reflections on Insularity Vs. Ecumenicalism

I have a tendency to write blog entries in my head when I am trying to fall asleep. It is very annoying, like an endless song going through your head that you can't turn off and that keeps you awake much longer than your neighbour's outdoor oldies drifting over your backyard pool would. On Tuesday night I stayed up too late writing a card to a friend, winding me up enough to guarantee that after my prayers I would begin writing a blog entry. Why I cannot stop myself I don't know and since Wednesday night I was going to be seeing Pirates of the Caribbean Dead Man's Chest, I knew I wouldn't be able to write a real blog entry for at least one more night, putting me at risk for another late-night session of blog revising and editing combined with movie impressions and images and snippets of repetitive movie music. Not a good combination for sleep. Now I have a chance to write the actual blog and I cannot begin it. In my mind, believe me, it was a masterpiece unparalleled in the postings of this blog....

...It all began with reflections on the wrongness of Christian groups, some of them cults, some of them insular conservative denominations, some of them less isolated but never-the-less prideful denominations, who decide they are where it is at, and those Christians outside their community are either not true Christians whose salvation is in doubt or less enlightened or less worthy or less right than their group, people with whom it wouldn't do to commune with at the Lord's table because their theology isn't right and besides they don't even concurr with the correct explanation of the Eucharist.These late-night musings were once again provoked in part by Michener's The Covenant (see my last post) in which we see an extreme example of this attitude. In this historical epic about South Africa, a Calvinist Africaner honestly believes that God did not make a covenant with the English as he did with the Dutch and each layer of society should remain separate like stacked layers of coloured jello (with the lemon Africaner layer on top ofcourse). In Michener's portrayal, speculation about the salvation of nations as a whole leaves many Africaners certain that while some individuals in certain nations may be saved, it is likely most of the Bantu and a good portion of the English nation are not as the English are not Calvinist and the Bantu are sons of Ham. I was just reading today an apartheid reading of the New Testament and the way they were using certain passages was wrong and disturbing, yet laughable and oddly fascinating at the same time. How the Pentecost account of different peoples hearing Christ's followers speak the gospel message each in their own tongues could morph into a racial theory that each people should remain distinct and separate in each language and culture is strangely disturbing and completely unexpected, and that is only the beginning.
I think any Christian group that starts to speculate, even if not openly, on how many of another Christian group are likely to be saved, is in serious trouble. To think your group has an unique handle on God's truth is arrogant and, while it may be true that you have a more correct view on a certain doctrine, it does not follow that you are a more shining example of what it means to be Christ-like. The things that are held in common with our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ are much more important than the differences that divide. In my view, no one knows an individual's heart, but anyone who holds to the Apostle's Creed and is attempting to follow Christ in their life should be considered a Christian. Maybe they are not and certain things can clearly disqualify them from an inheritance in the kingdom of God, but it is possible to have all the correct theological and doctrinal views and still miss out on following Christ. When the correct Christian worldview becomes more important than a life of discipleship, there is something seriously out of balance. Yes ideas are important and correct Biblical interpretation is important and a well considered worldview is important, but more important is living out what you believe and becoming more and more like Christ. (I am often guilty myself of being rich in ideas and theories, but impoverished in my practice of my faith and my discipleship.) And yes the three forms of unity contain much carefully reasoned theology, but any Spirit-filled believer who reads the Bible will recognize the difference between systematic doctrine, carefully demarcated from other Christian traditions of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the God-breathed inspired Word of God. So let's not make the lack of the three forms of unity a cause for division and separation. Or beliefs about adult and infant baptism for that matter. Or the use of icons in Orthodox churches. It's okay to cherish your denomination's particular traditions and understandings, but don't fail to recognize how God is working in another denomination or church tradition just because you don't agree with a particular belief or practice.
I think often God works within our frameworks of belief. So an Eastern Orthodox believer might be drawn close to God, gain an immediate sense of his presence and love as she prays with her heart and her whole self by the discipline of "The Jesus Prayer" while a charismatic believer might be able to pray to God with her spirit, enhance her relationship to Christ and service and witness to him, and enter a new dimension of praise by the use of tongues. God is working in each case to accomplish a similar result, the enhancement of prayer from prayer merely of the mind to prayer of the whole self, but the Eastern Orthodox believer would likely be hesitant about using tongues and disagree with the charismatic's teaching about them and the charismatic believer would likely lack the discipline to master the Jesus prayer so it becomes a prayer of the heart and the prayer of Christ in her. I have noticed that God works in ways we are open to and that we have faith for. He works with our limitations and around our hang-ups. Our understandings also shape our awareness of how he is working.
Some may think I am too inclusive and lack discernment ("don't you think the Reformation was necessary?" they might well ask or "aren't prayers to Mary and the saints just plain wrong?"), but others would consider me much too narrow. I believe Christ's words that he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life and that no one comes to the Father except by him. I do not consider liberal so-called Christians who do not believe in Jesus' physical resurrection genuine Christians, and I do not think other religions are equally valid ways to God, though I can see some truths in other religions. I don't know how it all works out, but it strikes me that who Christ is is the central question that everyone must decide. These claims for Christ may seem incredibly arrogant and offensive, especially in the postmodern world, but I believe they are true.
In the coming kingdom of Christ there will be people from every language, tribe, and people. So we can expect an amazing variety, yet wonderful unity. And there will not be segregration or division at the marriage supper of the Lamb. I'm looking forward to that day, but I think we can already get a foretaste of it here, the oneness Jesus prayed we would have before he went to the cross. God has a task for all of us, of all Christian traditions and personalities, and our very differences can actually enhance the body of Christ and help us to reach more people as we work together to advance the Kingdom.