I am sitting in my favorite cafe in the world, which also happens to be the one that I work at when I'm not in school or far away from Lancaster. Moments ago, the two people who were sitting next to me left for whatever they're doing, but for some forty-five minutes I have had the privilege of shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. It's pathetic, really, but rather enlightening. One of them attends Messiah and was described by a friend as sort of "eh, yeah, she's a Christian," the other goes to American and... probably isn't. When discussing his relationship with his girlfriend, the girl asked him how far he had gone sexually with her. He was initially embarrassed, but proceeded to be quite honest (oh hurray... that's what I get for eavesdropping). Honesty is all well and good, but I got the sense that the dynamics of their conversation shifted at that point. In his honesty, he was almost challenging her to defy him, to say that he had done wrong. And she bowed to the pressure. She played along, asked him whether he liked it, laughed at an anecdote that wasn't really humorous.
Part two of the conversation that piqued my interest was a moment when he stated, "I am selfish." When she, perhaps somewhat surprised, asked if that ever bothered him, he replied that no, it didn't really, and that was okay with him.
This morning, I was sitting in the parking lot at the library waiting for it to open, and I decided it was high time I had some devotional time. Strange place, but no time like the present. I was reluctant to choose my reading because, as I reminded myself, practically anything I read would probably end up convicting me. These past few days have not been my best and I was fresh out of a conversation with some friends that did not really glorify God in any way. And yeah, I was right. 1 Corinthians, where I left off, but I reread the first few chapters to refresh my memory. Chapter one, verse two, "I am writing to God's church in Corinth, to you who have been called by God to be his own holy people. He made you holy by means of Christ Jesus, just as he did for all people everywhere who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours."
These past few days have not been a question of failing to do something. In the things that I have done, said, and even "simply" allowed, I have been violating who I am as God made me, so not a matter of doing so much as being. God made me holy, and as Dr. Whitlock so aptly put it, as Christians, we are "able not to sin" where once we were "not able not to sin."
I was disturbed by this fellow's frank, unapologetic admission of selfishness, but at least he had the insight to recognize it. Certainly, he could use some work on his attitude, but he sees in himself what most people don't even begin to notice. My selfishness is more subtle, manifesting itself in my tacit refusal to engage him in conversation despite the fact that such a possibility was not out of the question. Sometimes it is petty, as when I am tempted to get water from the second bottle so I don't have to replace the nearly empty first. Sometimes my selfishness is a failure to care about what someone else has to say because I want to be heard. It is insidious and it is ugly, yet I often manage to completely ignore it.
The command is repeated several times in Leviticus: "Be holy as I AM holy." There are no second chances. There is only living a life of holiness now and praying that in the future, He will somehow repair the damages of the past.
28.11.09
20.11.09
The Devil is in the [Distraction]
Occasionally I think back to IMPACT's mission statement which was hammered into our heads during orientation week. "To equip young adults to become Christ-centered servant leaders." And what I always come back to is that little blip of two words: "Christ-centered." Recently, we've had the delirious joy of the inevitable(?) coupling off. I question my own choice of words because I don't think that it has to be inevitable, but at the same time I really understand the emotions that are tied into those situations and how difficult it can be to follow one's head over heart.
We were warned during orientation week to think of one another as brothers and sisters because spending nine months with a lot of godly persons of the opposite gender can be very confuddling in terms of guarding our hearts. And God knows (because I've told Him about this occasionally), I am not immune to those struggles. But I keep coming back to the thought that I can't give in to those feelings because they are not the point. IMPACT is heaven brought to earth in the form of genuine Christian community, but it is also a training ground for the future. We are leaders who, because of our experiences here, will be incredibly well-equipped to begin and contribute to similar communities around the world. 26 + 19 + 13 + however many people were in the first class and it's only growing from there.
And the devil is in the distraction. It's a balancing act, no doubt about that. How do you have this incredible fellowship between young men and young women without any romantic interest, especially in a culture where we are conditioned to think that all close relationships between genders are destined to have some element of eros to them. It's hard to hold on to phileos when people at home are nicely but frustratingly asking, "So have you met anyone there?" Well gee, folks, yes, I have met plenty of people here. If you're insinuating anything other than formal introduction, obviously I need to refresh your memory about what we are seeking here. Keyword: what. Or if not what, still also not who, but Who.
When Meredith, Grace, and I slept in Liberia that second night at SIFAT, we ended up talking about relationships, and I mentioned my present stance. If I am going to love anyone, let it be God. Let Him be my lover, my husband, as the Hosea passage I mentioned in my last post says. That is the perfect romance. If He has anything more for me, my deepest thanks to Him. But it will be in His time, and I find it hard to believe that here at IMPACT in a learning community is His time.
Let us get to know each other deeply and well, but not as potential lovers. As brothers and sisters who have each other's best interests at heart, and with the understanding that the best we have to offer is not ourselves but Christ in us. As the song goes, "How good and pleasant it is / When we dwell together in unity / And praise the Lord."
We were warned during orientation week to think of one another as brothers and sisters because spending nine months with a lot of godly persons of the opposite gender can be very confuddling in terms of guarding our hearts. And God knows (because I've told Him about this occasionally), I am not immune to those struggles. But I keep coming back to the thought that I can't give in to those feelings because they are not the point. IMPACT is heaven brought to earth in the form of genuine Christian community, but it is also a training ground for the future. We are leaders who, because of our experiences here, will be incredibly well-equipped to begin and contribute to similar communities around the world. 26 + 19 + 13 + however many people were in the first class and it's only growing from there.
And the devil is in the distraction. It's a balancing act, no doubt about that. How do you have this incredible fellowship between young men and young women without any romantic interest, especially in a culture where we are conditioned to think that all close relationships between genders are destined to have some element of eros to them. It's hard to hold on to phileos when people at home are nicely but frustratingly asking, "So have you met anyone there?" Well gee, folks, yes, I have met plenty of people here. If you're insinuating anything other than formal introduction, obviously I need to refresh your memory about what we are seeking here. Keyword: what. Or if not what, still also not who, but Who.
When Meredith, Grace, and I slept in Liberia that second night at SIFAT, we ended up talking about relationships, and I mentioned my present stance. If I am going to love anyone, let it be God. Let Him be my lover, my husband, as the Hosea passage I mentioned in my last post says. That is the perfect romance. If He has anything more for me, my deepest thanks to Him. But it will be in His time, and I find it hard to believe that here at IMPACT in a learning community is His time.
Let us get to know each other deeply and well, but not as potential lovers. As brothers and sisters who have each other's best interests at heart, and with the understanding that the best we have to offer is not ourselves but Christ in us. As the song goes, "How good and pleasant it is / When we dwell together in unity / And praise the Lord."
11.11.09
Miami Beach Rhumba
I'll save Havana for manana
Meanwhile, I have it in my reach.
I found the charm of all Havana
In the rhumba at Miami Beach.
I mostly just like the song for its beat and because it's fun to sing along to, but Miami Beach Rhumba has always struck me as a song about settling. You could have Cuba, but you settle for a mere taste of Cuba. You could have Haiti, but you settle for a mere taste of Haiti. Maybe the rhumba was just so fast paced and fun that it was impossible to resist a turn around the dance floor, and then you discovered that it was a centripetal force, holding you inward less and less against your will as more time passes.
Why do we settle for less? I am convicted by the verse in Hosea 2 when the Lord says of unfaithful Israel, "When she runs after her lovers, / she won't be able to catch them. / She will search for them / but not find them. / Then she will think, / 'I might as well return to my husband, / for I was better off with him than I am now.'"The prostitute sighs and resigns herself to settling for the loving care of her husband, but the irony of her statement is captured in the next verse when He adds, "She doesn't realize it was I who gave her everything she has..." Really, in pursuing her lovers she was settling for less, running away from a husband who held a deep, undeserved love for her. And because of her attitude, even as she does grudgingly return home, she will miss the depth of what is offered to her.
I do that. I look at God and say, "You are not enough for me. I want ... " Finish the sentence with the empty distraction of your choice. But they really are empty. What little about them that can satisfy is only satisfactory because it points back to the ultimate satisfier who, like Hansel & Gretel, is dropping crumbs along the path to lead us back home to him. Sometimes I find the bread crumb trail and I start to follow it, but I get off track because I spot a pretty flower in the woods or the road ahead appears dark and forbidding. But the final reward is greater than anything I can imagine, more strong in its allure than the grip of fear can hold tight against. Because someday, she won't look to her husband as second best. Someday...
"But then I will win her back once again.
I will lead her into the desert
and speak tenderly to her there.
I will return her vineyards to her
and transform the Valley of Trouble into
a gateway of hope.
She will give herself to me there,
as she did long ago when she was young,
when I freed her from her captivity in Egypt.
When that day comes," says the Lord,
"you will call me 'my husband'
instead of 'my master.'"
{Hosea 2:14-16}
Meanwhile, I have it in my reach.
I found the charm of all Havana
In the rhumba at Miami Beach.
I mostly just like the song for its beat and because it's fun to sing along to, but Miami Beach Rhumba has always struck me as a song about settling. You could have Cuba, but you settle for a mere taste of Cuba. You could have Haiti, but you settle for a mere taste of Haiti. Maybe the rhumba was just so fast paced and fun that it was impossible to resist a turn around the dance floor, and then you discovered that it was a centripetal force, holding you inward less and less against your will as more time passes.
Why do we settle for less? I am convicted by the verse in Hosea 2 when the Lord says of unfaithful Israel, "When she runs after her lovers, / she won't be able to catch them. / She will search for them / but not find them. / Then she will think, / 'I might as well return to my husband, / for I was better off with him than I am now.'"The prostitute sighs and resigns herself to settling for the loving care of her husband, but the irony of her statement is captured in the next verse when He adds, "She doesn't realize it was I who gave her everything she has..." Really, in pursuing her lovers she was settling for less, running away from a husband who held a deep, undeserved love for her. And because of her attitude, even as she does grudgingly return home, she will miss the depth of what is offered to her.
I do that. I look at God and say, "You are not enough for me. I want ... " Finish the sentence with the empty distraction of your choice. But they really are empty. What little about them that can satisfy is only satisfactory because it points back to the ultimate satisfier who, like Hansel & Gretel, is dropping crumbs along the path to lead us back home to him. Sometimes I find the bread crumb trail and I start to follow it, but I get off track because I spot a pretty flower in the woods or the road ahead appears dark and forbidding. But the final reward is greater than anything I can imagine, more strong in its allure than the grip of fear can hold tight against. Because someday, she won't look to her husband as second best. Someday...
"But then I will win her back once again.
I will lead her into the desert
and speak tenderly to her there.
I will return her vineyards to her
and transform the Valley of Trouble into
a gateway of hope.
She will give herself to me there,
as she did long ago when she was young,
when I freed her from her captivity in Egypt.
When that day comes," says the Lord,
"you will call me 'my husband'
instead of 'my master.'"
{Hosea 2:14-16}
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