not getting carded at Total Wine. I've always been told I look really young for my age (I'm 27.) When I don't get carded buying wine I feel like I must be looking really haggard. The employees at Total Wine are hardcore about checking IDs. William and I were browsing around and sipping samples at the promo table when the man behind the counter carded a girl that I thought looked older than me. On the way out, I told William I must look really awful today. Trying to be helpful, he told me that the man was just trying to flirt with the girl. So to me that meant, I looked positively over 30 and not nice enough to flirt with! William, rolling his eyes, told me I was obviously with him, so why would the man bother? True enough, but still... a small blow to the old pride.
So I am sitting here, sipping the chardonnay we bought, wondering why I'm so concerned about how old people think I am. It used to annoy the crud out of me when, in my young 20's, people mistook me for a teenager. My students' parents still often tell me I blend in with my students when I'm out in the hall with them before school. Now I find it kind of flattering even though sometimes I don't mind when I look my age. But other times, like today, it ticks me right off. As with most conundrums, I have to ask myself, why in the world does it bother me when people recognize me as being definitely over 21?
Our assistant pastor has been praying almost every Sunday from the pulpit that we would not be a people who worship and seek after youthfulness and health as an end in itself. Our culture idolizes youth and health. Ads in magazines tout various creams and potions to fight aging, or the appearance thereof. Fitness is hawked as another way to live longer and look younger. Why is aging looked upon so badly, and why does the world hate it so much? I think a large part of it is the worldview that this is all there is, so you might as well look your best, feel your best, do your best, you you you. It always comes back to the individual experience, the life you "deserve." Someone once said that this world is the closest to heaven the lost will ever get, and the closest to hell that Christians will ever get. Perhaps it's a sense, and a fear, of eternity that makes the world want to hold on to whatever ties them to this earth and prolong their days. It's the best they're going to get. The truth, for Christians, is that each day that goes by is one less we have to wait to see our Savior. To be remade perfectly, to never age, to have no capacity to sin, to be able to love Jesus perfectly. WHY would I want to slow that down?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Everything old is new again.
When I was going through my purses yesterday I had to sort through a lot of junk I had never taken out of them. (It was like a little micro-cosm of my grander purpose.) There were lots of old papers, receipts, notes to myself, shopping lists, lip gloss, pens, pencils, and even a spoon. (Yeah... I don't know either.) I also found my earrings from my wedding day, my ICS office key, and an old journal from when I was on a women's retreat with my old church. In the journal, I found a poem I had written, inspired by a statue of Jesus the retreat grounds had. Here it is, in its unrevised state.
A Violent Love
Christ the Lord lifts up His face
Father, Father, why dost thou forsake?
No sin have I committed
Yet You have permitted
my pierced flesh, my bloody brow,
this circle of thorns to make my crown.
Satan scoffs, the crowd mocks.
And as I reach my final hour
the cup of judgment begins to pour.
Bitter, shameful agony, but oh, my sheep!
This is the extent I love thee.
Your sins are written above my head.
You were doomed without my blood.
Lord, is Thy wrath now satisfied?
My work here is done.
I raise My hands to You, My Father.
Make My enemies a footstool for My feet.
Redeem Your loved ones, their sins
with My wounds wipe clean.
Into Your hands My spirit
I commit. Death cannot hold Me,
its power is forfeit. Place the iron
scepter in My nail-scarred hand.
(It is finished.)
A Violent Love
Christ the Lord lifts up His face
Father, Father, why dost thou forsake?
No sin have I committed
Yet You have permitted
my pierced flesh, my bloody brow,
this circle of thorns to make my crown.
Satan scoffs, the crowd mocks.
And as I reach my final hour
the cup of judgment begins to pour.
Bitter, shameful agony, but oh, my sheep!
This is the extent I love thee.
Your sins are written above my head.
You were doomed without my blood.
Lord, is Thy wrath now satisfied?
My work here is done.
I raise My hands to You, My Father.
Make My enemies a footstool for My feet.
Redeem Your loved ones, their sins
with My wounds wipe clean.
Into Your hands My spirit
I commit. Death cannot hold Me,
its power is forfeit. Place the iron
scepter in My nail-scarred hand.
(It is finished.)
Rubber meets road; or; death to my inner hypocrite.
This morning I was tagging along with my sister-in-law Emily while she ran some errands, and I was filling her in on my latest musings. We talked about how hard it is to get rid of "stuff", and how hard it can be not to buy it in the first place. I told her how I was feeling about the magazine articles, and how I want to be someone who practices what they preach. She very wisely reminded me that it's when we have these epiphanies about life that God asks us, "what are you doing to do about it?"
For someone who does not believe, philosophically or whatever you want to call it, in holding onto a lot of "stuff", I sure I have a lot of junk crammed into my closets. It's been my summer project to clean out my closets, pass on some clothes that are still in fashion and serviceable to my friends, and I've been figuring out what else to do with the ever-growing pile of clothes/bags/shoes that I didn't want/need anymore. I'd been holding on to a lot of it with vague ideas of having a garage sale or taking it to a consignment shop to try to get some money back from it. Every time I had that idea, there came that still small voice asking me "why?" If I really was worried about money I wouldn't be buying this much in the first place. I should just drop it off at a charity organization. But there came my fleshly inner struggle. I could make some money, but why? To buy more stuff? To fill that space right back up with things I don't really need, and that I know in my heart of hearts don't matter? It might sound kind of odd but the eternal perspective we are supposed to have as Christians was being tested with my decision about what to do with my stuff. I know that God has been nudging me to just let it go; drop it off so people who need it more can have it without a second glance or thought from me. But, like with so many things, I wanted to hold on to it.
God gives us small things to be obedient and faithful with as practice for when we are faced with larger things. I told one of my classes last year that being a student, being faithful to work hard and do your best on homework even when you don't want to, is both doable and required by God. We all need to practice now being faithful with "every-day" things so that when God brings bigger challenges into our lives, we are used to listening to His voice and following His path. Like everybody, I've had both successes and miserable failures in this area, and here I was today, this week, this summer... not doing what I've been telling my students to do.
Now, to make my struggle a little more clear, I don't think there is anything wrong with selling your old stuff to make some cash. My struggle was with my ugly heart and what I knew God was asking me to do. It was knowing that God was asking me to be faithful to Him in this very small issue and I have been dragging my feet, instead of plunging right in with an enthusiastic, "Yes Lord, whatever you want me to do, I'll do it!"
When I got back from running around with Emily, and talking to her about these issues, I thought about what she had said. She had reminded me that my options were simple: Do something, or do nothing. I decided to put to death, for today anyway, my inner hypocrite. Now, not to be exceedingly corny, but this process of putting to death the old nature can be very much like a dramatic death scene from the Twilight books. If you've read these, you'll know what I'm talking about. If you haven't... please don't dismiss me for being silly. One of the heroes kills an evil vampire, and the only way to do that is to pull it apart limb by limb, burning all the pieces, because until it is nothing but ash, the vampire still has strength to do evil. My inner hypocrite is like the vampire. I need to pull that sucker limb from limb and burn the pieces. I started that today by pulling even more articles of clothing from my closet, pulling all my purses down onto the floor, and then ruthlessly tossing things I rarely use and didn't even know I still had in some cases into the give-away pile. Then I did it a second and third time. I piled it all into garbage bags, and William helped me load it in his car. We dropped it off at the Salvation Army today. It's gone.
Jeremiah 17:9-12 says "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? 'I the LORD search the heart and test the mind, to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds.' Like the partridge that gathers a brood that she did not hatch, so is he who gets riches but not by justice; in the midst of his days they will leave him, and at his end he will be a fool. A glorious throne set on high from the beginning is the place of our sanctuary."
The LORD searched my heart today. My sick and deceitful heart. Why would I hold on to these earthly things when our real sanctuary, our comfort and hope, has been set since before the beginning of time? Thank HIM that in another passage, He tells us, "I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh that they may walk in my statutes and keep my rules and obey them... " (Ezekiel 11:19b,ff.)
Today, there was obedience. But it wasn't from me, it was only because God has enabled my heart to love and follow Him. It's still able not to, though. That's the danger. For today, the battle is over. Tomorrow though... I might have to put that hypocrite to death. Again.
For someone who does not believe, philosophically or whatever you want to call it, in holding onto a lot of "stuff", I sure I have a lot of junk crammed into my closets. It's been my summer project to clean out my closets, pass on some clothes that are still in fashion and serviceable to my friends, and I've been figuring out what else to do with the ever-growing pile of clothes/bags/shoes that I didn't want/need anymore. I'd been holding on to a lot of it with vague ideas of having a garage sale or taking it to a consignment shop to try to get some money back from it. Every time I had that idea, there came that still small voice asking me "why?" If I really was worried about money I wouldn't be buying this much in the first place. I should just drop it off at a charity organization. But there came my fleshly inner struggle. I could make some money, but why? To buy more stuff? To fill that space right back up with things I don't really need, and that I know in my heart of hearts don't matter? It might sound kind of odd but the eternal perspective we are supposed to have as Christians was being tested with my decision about what to do with my stuff. I know that God has been nudging me to just let it go; drop it off so people who need it more can have it without a second glance or thought from me. But, like with so many things, I wanted to hold on to it.
God gives us small things to be obedient and faithful with as practice for when we are faced with larger things. I told one of my classes last year that being a student, being faithful to work hard and do your best on homework even when you don't want to, is both doable and required by God. We all need to practice now being faithful with "every-day" things so that when God brings bigger challenges into our lives, we are used to listening to His voice and following His path. Like everybody, I've had both successes and miserable failures in this area, and here I was today, this week, this summer... not doing what I've been telling my students to do.
Now, to make my struggle a little more clear, I don't think there is anything wrong with selling your old stuff to make some cash. My struggle was with my ugly heart and what I knew God was asking me to do. It was knowing that God was asking me to be faithful to Him in this very small issue and I have been dragging my feet, instead of plunging right in with an enthusiastic, "Yes Lord, whatever you want me to do, I'll do it!"
When I got back from running around with Emily, and talking to her about these issues, I thought about what she had said. She had reminded me that my options were simple: Do something, or do nothing. I decided to put to death, for today anyway, my inner hypocrite. Now, not to be exceedingly corny, but this process of putting to death the old nature can be very much like a dramatic death scene from the Twilight books. If you've read these, you'll know what I'm talking about. If you haven't... please don't dismiss me for being silly. One of the heroes kills an evil vampire, and the only way to do that is to pull it apart limb by limb, burning all the pieces, because until it is nothing but ash, the vampire still has strength to do evil. My inner hypocrite is like the vampire. I need to pull that sucker limb from limb and burn the pieces. I started that today by pulling even more articles of clothing from my closet, pulling all my purses down onto the floor, and then ruthlessly tossing things I rarely use and didn't even know I still had in some cases into the give-away pile. Then I did it a second and third time. I piled it all into garbage bags, and William helped me load it in his car. We dropped it off at the Salvation Army today. It's gone.
Jeremiah 17:9-12 says "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? 'I the LORD search the heart and test the mind, to give every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his deeds.' Like the partridge that gathers a brood that she did not hatch, so is he who gets riches but not by justice; in the midst of his days they will leave him, and at his end he will be a fool. A glorious throne set on high from the beginning is the place of our sanctuary."
The LORD searched my heart today. My sick and deceitful heart. Why would I hold on to these earthly things when our real sanctuary, our comfort and hope, has been set since before the beginning of time? Thank HIM that in another passage, He tells us, "I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a heart of flesh that they may walk in my statutes and keep my rules and obey them... " (Ezekiel 11:19b,ff.)
Today, there was obedience. But it wasn't from me, it was only because God has enabled my heart to love and follow Him. It's still able not to, though. That's the danger. For today, the battle is over. Tomorrow though... I might have to put that hypocrite to death. Again.
Magazines and their unrealistic view of the world.
This evening I was indulging in what I consider giving my brain a break and reading some magazines. Over the past couple weeks my reading material has been comprised of all the books I will be teaching this school year that I hadn't read recently, which includes The Screwtape Letters, a rather oddly cleaned-up version of the King Arthur tales, a collection of various poems and short stories, and also the not as fun textbooks I need to be familiar with before August 18. I also, over the past few days, read the first 3 books of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. After the heady few thousand pages, I needed some brain fluff.
The first magazine was a fashion mag, and it was a title I don't usually buy. (I don't expect fashion magazines to do anything other than make me chuckle or give me ideas about how to combine clothes I already own. Any actual usefulness they give me is bonus. If I'm actually looking for fashion advice I talk to Benita.) I actually thought the cover story/interview might be interesting. Well that didn't work out so well, but what did make my noggin start whirling was a photo spread on the new "weekend" look. (For full disclosure: to me that means pajamas, unless I'm going to a friends' house. Then, jeans and t-shirt.) Instead of whatever people were wearing before as their weekend clothes, this new idea was some rigmarole about hanging tough in hardworking denim. Being a jeans girl, it's not like that doesn't appeal to me. What I found hard to swallow, though, was their idea of what that looks like. The photos are of models so skinny I am sure I could snap them in half, but that's nothing new. It's that whoever designed the shoot had it set in a factory/workshop/car shop setting and these ridiculous looking women dressed up in everything from socks that cost $14 to a jacket that cost $1155. One of the girls looks like she is sitting at my mechanic's desk, with his car parts reference book open. She's holding a phone and a mug, presumably of coffee to keep her going through her hard, hard day. One is standing on a small ledge with a wrench in her hands, holding it straight above her eyes on a pipe that looks like it would blast something horrible into her face if she actually had the strength to move the bolt. The models all have something shiny smoothed down their arms to approximate sweat. I'm not sure who these ads are trying to appeal to. Actual people who need hardworking jeans can't afford to spend $1155 jackets to get dirty in. Actual people who work hard with their hands get sweat rings around their necks and armpits. People who can afford those kinds of get-ups don't do those kinds of sweaty jobs. I'm actually still not sure why this spread annoys me so much. I think it's because I found it unusually condescending. As if these people have any idea what it means to work hard at something, rather than get made up to look as if they were working.
The other magazine I was looking through is one that promises to make my life easier. (Again, I have no expectations for anything other than amusement, and surprise at actual help.) They had a section on how to arrange bookshelves, whether you have a few books, a moderate amount, or a large collection. I flipped to the "large" collection picture, curious for some home-beautifying ideas. Their concept of a large collection of books made me wonder if they think their audience is illiterate. They promise help in arranging "a university's worth of reading material." The coinciding picture has maybe 75 books on the shelf, with mostly empty space and knick-knacks. A UNIVERSITY'S WORTH? If my mom wasn't probably reading this (hi mom) I'd write what is actually in my head in reaction to that. Those people should come look at my bookshelves. Or maybe go look at an actual university's collection before making such a stupid description.
Now that I have ranted, I think I'm figuring out what is annoying me. It relates to why I liked the Twilight books so much (which will be in a different post, eventually), past the cursory inner fangirl in me, and why I love to teach. Everything I've read over that past couple weeks up until this evening had some kind of significance, eternal and/or personal. I'm gearing up to teach around 120 young people this school year, hoping to impart knowledge and life skills all the while demonstrating the transformative power of Christ in my life. No biggie, right? And the Twilight books, which I'll elaborate on later, actually gave me some epiphanies/insights into my past character (it wasn't pretty.) All that made me want a break from reality for a bit. Well I got that, and more. It made me angry. Angry that people who don't know better will read these magazines and look at the pictures and think that is what real life looks like and hold themselves to a standard that is meant to tell them that they don't measure up and they need to buy things to make themselves matter. Angry that the young men and women who God gives me for a time, to try and influence them, might fall into that trap. I think I have a new vision for the school year. I want my kids to know that real life is messy. You get sweat stains. You cram all your books into whatever space you have. You make do with what is given you. You hold on dearly to what is real: Jesus, family, friends. Relationships are the only thing that are going to last. We take ourselves into the next world; nothing else. Nothing else matters.
The first magazine was a fashion mag, and it was a title I don't usually buy. (I don't expect fashion magazines to do anything other than make me chuckle or give me ideas about how to combine clothes I already own. Any actual usefulness they give me is bonus. If I'm actually looking for fashion advice I talk to Benita.) I actually thought the cover story/interview might be interesting. Well that didn't work out so well, but what did make my noggin start whirling was a photo spread on the new "weekend" look. (For full disclosure: to me that means pajamas, unless I'm going to a friends' house. Then, jeans and t-shirt.) Instead of whatever people were wearing before as their weekend clothes, this new idea was some rigmarole about hanging tough in hardworking denim. Being a jeans girl, it's not like that doesn't appeal to me. What I found hard to swallow, though, was their idea of what that looks like. The photos are of models so skinny I am sure I could snap them in half, but that's nothing new. It's that whoever designed the shoot had it set in a factory/workshop/car shop setting and these ridiculous looking women dressed up in everything from socks that cost $14 to a jacket that cost $1155. One of the girls looks like she is sitting at my mechanic's desk, with his car parts reference book open. She's holding a phone and a mug, presumably of coffee to keep her going through her hard, hard day. One is standing on a small ledge with a wrench in her hands, holding it straight above her eyes on a pipe that looks like it would blast something horrible into her face if she actually had the strength to move the bolt. The models all have something shiny smoothed down their arms to approximate sweat. I'm not sure who these ads are trying to appeal to. Actual people who need hardworking jeans can't afford to spend $1155 jackets to get dirty in. Actual people who work hard with their hands get sweat rings around their necks and armpits. People who can afford those kinds of get-ups don't do those kinds of sweaty jobs. I'm actually still not sure why this spread annoys me so much. I think it's because I found it unusually condescending. As if these people have any idea what it means to work hard at something, rather than get made up to look as if they were working.
The other magazine I was looking through is one that promises to make my life easier. (Again, I have no expectations for anything other than amusement, and surprise at actual help.) They had a section on how to arrange bookshelves, whether you have a few books, a moderate amount, or a large collection. I flipped to the "large" collection picture, curious for some home-beautifying ideas. Their concept of a large collection of books made me wonder if they think their audience is illiterate. They promise help in arranging "a university's worth of reading material." The coinciding picture has maybe 75 books on the shelf, with mostly empty space and knick-knacks. A UNIVERSITY'S WORTH? If my mom wasn't probably reading this (hi mom) I'd write what is actually in my head in reaction to that. Those people should come look at my bookshelves. Or maybe go look at an actual university's collection before making such a stupid description.
Now that I have ranted, I think I'm figuring out what is annoying me. It relates to why I liked the Twilight books so much (which will be in a different post, eventually), past the cursory inner fangirl in me, and why I love to teach. Everything I've read over that past couple weeks up until this evening had some kind of significance, eternal and/or personal. I'm gearing up to teach around 120 young people this school year, hoping to impart knowledge and life skills all the while demonstrating the transformative power of Christ in my life. No biggie, right? And the Twilight books, which I'll elaborate on later, actually gave me some epiphanies/insights into my past character (it wasn't pretty.) All that made me want a break from reality for a bit. Well I got that, and more. It made me angry. Angry that people who don't know better will read these magazines and look at the pictures and think that is what real life looks like and hold themselves to a standard that is meant to tell them that they don't measure up and they need to buy things to make themselves matter. Angry that the young men and women who God gives me for a time, to try and influence them, might fall into that trap. I think I have a new vision for the school year. I want my kids to know that real life is messy. You get sweat stains. You cram all your books into whatever space you have. You make do with what is given you. You hold on dearly to what is real: Jesus, family, friends. Relationships are the only thing that are going to last. We take ourselves into the next world; nothing else. Nothing else matters.
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