Pictures of Holiness, Concluded

 A brief overview on the second Nicene Council can be found here and here. So what? What can we, as Christians, learn from a debate that seems to have been settled a good 1200 years ago?

The Second Council of Nicaea -- Part III of III

“You shall worship the Lord your God in spirit and in truth.” John 4:24 (ESV)

Although the second Nicene Council decided, in 787 A.D, that the veneration of sacred images and relics was orthodox, the debate was far from resolved. Iconoclasts continued to agitate in the Eastern empire for the next hundred years, further weakening the empire's political integrity. And images increased the division between the Eastern and Western churches; although the Eastern Orthodox Church eventually decided in favor of images, they disagreed with the Roman Catholic church's use of carved images.

In Europe, the most outspoken opponents of the Council's decision came from the Frankish, or early French, church. In 790, Frankish bishops writing for Charlemagne published Quattuor Libri Carolini in response to Nicaea II's decision. Any form of devotion or reverence directed toward images, the Quattuor Libri claimed, was superstitious and idolatrous. Unlike earlier iconoclasts, however, Charlemagne's book admitted a legitimate place for images, as “adornment” in churches and to instruct or recall Christian history.

By the late Middle Ages, however, the Roman Catholic church had entirely embraced Nicaea II's reverence of images. As devotion to saints and to Mary increased, so did devotion to relics and images; just as the iconoclasts feared, many images came to be viewed as sacred or imbued with power in themselves.

This worship of saints and images deeply offended more radical Reformers, including Ulrich Zwingli, John Calvin, and John Knox. In fact, in 1549 Jean du Tillet – a French bishop and friend of Calvin – returned to the debate when he published the first printed edition of Quattuor Libri Carolini.

The Roman Catholic Church reaffirmed its injunction to worship saints and their relics and images in the 1563 Council of Trent, stating that the

“images of Christ, of the Virgin Mother of God, and of the other saints, are to be had and retained . . . and due honor and veneration are to be given them; not that any divinity, or virtue, is believed to be in them; or that anything is to be asked of them; or that trust is to be reposed in images, as was of old done by the Gentiles, who placed their hope in idols; but because the honor which is shown them is referred to the prototypes which those images represent; in such wise that by the images which we kiss, and before which we uncover the head, and prostrate ourselves, we adore Christ, and we venerate the saints, whose similitude they bear; as by the decrees of Councils, and especially of the second Synod of Nicaea, has been defined against the opponents of images.”

The Reformers stoutly maintained Christ alone was to be adored, and His intercession was alone sufficient for believers. Calvin addressed the issue at length in his Institutes of the Christian Religion. Calvin used Scripture to argue that God forbids human beings to create images of Himself, sculptural or otherwise, because He would thus necessarily be “represented falsely and with an insult to His majesty” (Vol I., xi.4).

Furthermore, Calvin argued, the human mind is so permeated with sin that it is naturally inclined to create an idol out of any representation of God or a god. The golden calf of the Israelites and the statues of the pagan nations all evidence man's disinclination to trust in the presence and providence of an invisible, all-powerful God. Idolatry is man's attempt to make a god “in his own image.”

Calvin did see a place for painting and sculpture to create instructive, morally uplifting images. However, he saw no place for them in worship. Using images to instruct the mind or emotions about God, as Nicaea II had directed, would yield a false understanding of God's nature.

“I confess, as the matter stands, that today there are not a few who are unable to do without such (images to teach them),” Calvin admitted. “But,” he continued, the unlearned believers' dependence on images is “because they are defrauded of that doctrine which alone was fit to instruct them.”

Calvin contended that we truly see Christ and His work not in pictures or statues, but “by the true preaching of the gospel” (I.xi.9). This was the heart of the Reformation – the “true preaching of the gospel,” making the word of God accessible to every Christian.

The Reformation put God's own representation of Himself in the hands of believers, in their own language. The glorious story of redemption needed no physical images to captivate their thoughts, seize their imaginations, and overwhelm their emotions with response to God's holiness and astonishing love.

For most Protestant denominations, the question of sacred images was decided during the Reformation. The issues informing that old debate, however, are very relevant, and we encourage readers to ponder a few thoughts after considering the decision of the second Council of Nicaea.

First of all, our knowledge of God must come from Scripture. We cannot rely on the thoughts that we “feel” must be true about God – we must first of all trust what He says about Himself.

Secondly, it is not appropriate to worship God in any way that “feels right” or moves our emotions in a positive way. As Calvin pointed out, sin makes even our best intentions an occasion for idolatry. Our worship, too, much be directed by what God Himself, through Scripture, tells us is acceptable. This principle is difficult but vital to apply. Our God is not “like us,” a being able to be contained or explained by anything human beings create, and to misrepresent Him is a fearful thing.

Finally, Christ's sacrifice is always acceptable. We can always approach God, in “fear and trembling” of His holiness, but also in confidence, knowing that we need no other access, no other mediation. God Himself, in the person of Christ, intercedes for us.

Pictures of Holiness, Part II

 The first part can be found here.

The Second Council of Nicaea - Part II of III

He (Christ) is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature 

(Hebrews 1:3, ESV)

    It was late in the year 787. The seventh great ecumenical council, called by the Byzantine empress Irene to address the legitimacy of sacred images in worship, was holding its fourth session. Attending were officials from the Western church, bearing the support of Pope Hadrian, as well as over 350 Eastern Orthodox bishops. Several bishops who had earlier participated in the iconoclastic Council of Constantinople, thirty years before, recanted their iconoclastic beliefs; they affirmed their support of the veneration of images and appealed to the forgiveness of Christ and the intercession of Mary and the saints.
      So far all attendees had been unanimous in their support of the images; today, the Council turned its attention to arguments against images. In the fourth session, they read aloud the determinations published by the Council of Constantinople. According to the iconoclastic Council, “the unlawful art of painting living creatures blasphemed the fundamental doctrine of our salvation – namely the Incarnation of Christ.”  Creating or venerating images of Christ was a wordless profession of the heresies of Nestorius and Arius, always a misrepresentation of His divine and human nature. More than that, venerating images of Mary or the saints was “a perpetuation of pagan idolatry.” 
      The iconoclastic Council cited numerous Scriptures, including Exodus 20:2-6, numerous Old Testament passages against idolatry, and God's decree that His worshipers “worship ... in spirit and in truth” (John 4:24). The Nicaean Council responded by referencing the images God commanded to be placed in the Jewish temple, especially the carved cherubim (e.g. Exodus 25). Images in themselves were not heretical, they argued: it was false worship that was anathema. The Council agreed that images of Christ in particular were the most perfect depiction of “the profundity of the abasement of the incarnate God for our sakes.”
      In fact, the Council argued less from Scripture than from the images' undeniable emotional force. They appealed to the support of early Church fathers, including a sermon in which St. Gregory Nyssen described a painting of the sacrifice of Isaac he could never view “without tears.” John, a representative of the Eastern church, pointed out that if an image could move an educated divine so powerfully, how much more useful it would be to instruct and move “ignorant and simple” believers. Most Christians in the ninth century were illiterate, unable to read the Scriptures or even, in Europe, able to understand the Latin preaching of their shepherds.
      Like previous councils, Nicaea II was concerned at its heart with defending the true nature and worship of Christ. Images themselves were never to be worshiped; instead, honoring images provided a priceless aid to the knowledge and emotions of believers. One by one, attendant bishops affirmed their faith with the words of the Nicene Creed, saluting Christ as the only savior of His people from the worship of false gods. Only “the incarnate God . . . went in and out among us, and cast out the names of idols from the earth, as it was written. But we salute the voices of the Lord and of his Apostles through which we have been taught to honor in the first place her who is properly and truly the Mother of God and exalted above all the heavenly powers; also the holy and angelic powers; and the blessed and altogether lauded Apostles, and the glorious Prophets and the triumphant Martyrs which fought for Christ, . . . and all holy men; and to seek for their intercessions . . .
      “Moreover,” the Council concluded, “we salute the image of the life-giving Cross, and the holy relics of the Saints; and we receive the holy and venerable images: and we salute them, and we embrace them, according to the ancient traditions of the holy Catholic Church of God. . . . Likewise also the images of the holy and incorporeal Angels, who as men appeared to the just. Likewise also the figures and effigies of the divine and all-lauded Apostles, also of the God-speaking Prophets and of the struggling Martyrs and of holy men. So that through their representations we may be able to be led back in memory and recollection to the prototype, and have a share in the holiness of some one of them.”
      Veneration of images continued to spread both in the Eastern and Western churches. The debate was not finished, however: there continued to be opposition to the images from within the church. Join us next week as we look at the Reformation's response to the use of images in worship.

Pictures of Holiness

For lack of anything else to post, here is the first of three articles i'm working on for our local paper. Our church in Troy has been running a series of articles on church history, specifically the history of the great ecumenical Councils that hammered out the nature of Christ and other essential Christian doctrines. Why even bother to inform yourself? The first article, by R.B. Tolar, addresses that very question. The entire "Soli Deo Gloria" series is archived here. 

The seventh ecumenical Council, the second Council held in Nicaea, was convened in 787 AD to address the question of sacred images--two- and three-dimensional depictions of Christ, Mary, the saints and early martyrs--and their place in worship.

Y'all, it is HARD to write a 500word paper that says much of anything.

The Second Council of Nicaea: Part 1 of 3

      

      “I am the LORD your God ... You shall have no other gods before Me. You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the LORD your God am a jealous God ...” (Exodus 20:2-6, ESV)

       

       As the history of the Church progressed, images of Christ, Mary, and early saints and martyrs became more and more important in Christian worship. Paintings and sculptures became tools to teach unlettered believers – in the vast majority! – to remind them of saints' and martyrs' faith, and to rouse emotions to increase their faith and devotion. Christians in Western Europe and in the East prayed in front of images, kissed them, and lit candles in front of them. Through images, believers could encounter holiness in a form they could see and touch. Just like the relics of the saints, local churches cherished certain images, looking to them for protection, healing, and blessing.

      Church “doctors” were careful to point out that sacred images were aids to devotion; those who honored them were not worshiping or praying to the images themselves, but to Christ or the saints whom they could not see in the flesh. Practically, however, many less-educated worshipers drew no distinction between worship inspired by images and worship of images. Opponents of images, called iconoclasts – Greek for “image-breakers” – called the growing devotion to images nothing less than “idolatry under the appearance of Christianity” (Council of Constantinople, AD 754).

      The iconoclasts and the image-lovers both accepted the six great Councils' declarations about Christ's nature and about the different kinds of reverence due to God, Mary, and the saints. What divided them was a violent difference about how it was appropriate to experience holiness. One of the great defenders of images, the hymn-writer John of Damascus, defended images of Christ as the most immediate and moving way to appreciate the both the fact and the implications of the Incarnation. Iconoclasts adopted a stringent interpretation of the commandment against images, viewing any attempt to depict divine nature as blasphemy. They pointed to Muslim military victories in the Holy Land as proof that God supported Islam's strict prohibition of representational art: Christian cities were defeated because God was judging the Church for idolatry.

      Rulers' personal beliefs led to the ascendancy of iconoclastic laws in the Byzantine empire. In AD 754, Emperor Leo III called a council in Constantinople to establish firm doctrine about sacred images. Around 350 church leaders met to discuss Scriptures and apostolic tradition. They unanimously agreed that “the unlawful art of painting living creatures blasphemed the fundamental doctrine of our salvation – namely the Incarnation of Christ.” Any image depicting Christ was blasphemy, bound to misrepresent His divine and human natures; any image of Mary or the saints was no different than pagan idolatry. Only the Lord's Supper, instituted by Christ Himself, was an acceptable representation of His nature.

      Leo III implemented the Council's decision immediately and violently. Images were seized from churches and abbeys and destroyed; mosaics were painted over and replaced with blank walls or a simple cross. While the rulers of the Empire and their soldiers supported the Council's attitude toward images, however, most common worshipers and the lower ranks of the clergy grew to love the sacred images even more strongly.

      Throughout the eighth century the debate continued. When Leo III's son, Leo IV, died, his widow Irene assumed the regency for her son Constantine. The Empress Irene was an ambitious, ruthless ruler who did everything possible to increase her power—including an attempt to blind her own son when he grew older. Her support of icons was probably informed by political factors. Whatever her reasons, Irene called another ecumenical Council to reexamine the question of images. Iconoclastic forces broke up a meeting in Constantinople; the following year, AD 787, she called for a meeting in Nicaea. 350 bishops – including many who had participated in the earlier iconoclastic Council, as well as representatives from Pope Hadrian – assembled to denounce iconoclasticism and the Council of Constantinople, and to issue a ruling to define and support the use of images in Christian worship.

     Next week: the second Council of Nicaea, its discussions and its conclusions.

Some thoughts on the Trinity

 (prompted by a Sunday morning discussion)

Three persons, all one holy, eternal God. Yet each distinct - not merely a way to describe different roles or functions of a single person.

This is the orthodox definition of the Trinity, hammered out by the Church over centuries of studying the Bible.

 Kevin DeYoung calls this "the most important doctrine you never think about." Our understanding of God is foundational to our faith - to how we relate to Him as we live as Christians. Why is the Trinity important?

I think the most basic implication of the Trinity is that it completely blows out of the water any idea that God needs us. Within the trinity, God has a knowledge of and a love for Himself that is perfect and complete. He did not create mankind because He needed someone to know and love Him. He is secure in Himself forever. More than that, God saves us Himself - it is all His work. Only God Himself could satisfy His need for justice. Christ is not a good man who worked his way to righteousness with God - He is God Himself in skin among us.

At the same time, the relationship within the Trinity also informs the way we relate to others. God is love, and learning love from Him, we are called to live with one another in love.

DeYoung points out that Christianity, seeking to reflect a God who is a unity of diverse Persons, contrasts beautifully with two worldviews that compete with it today across the world: postmodernism (which allows for a diversity which is meaningless and irreconcilable) and Islam (which prescribes unity of language, culture, and thought).

There's more -- a lot more. I leave you with a link to an essay on the Trinity by Jonathan Edwards. Go, read - it's short, i promise! But since it is Jonathan Edwards, here's a brilliant summary by J.K. Jones:

The Father's idea of Himself is so perfect that it has being as a Person. This is the Son, eternally begotten of the Father. The Father and the Son have a love for each other so perfect that it has being as a Person. This is the Holy Spirit.

If that doesn't spark your brain, i don't know what will.


So what do you think? What do you believe about the Trinity? Does it even matter?

OMG, Leviticus

The joke in my family is that every plan to read the whole Bible always falls apart right around the middle of Leviticus. One long book of complicated descriptions of sacrifices, rituals, cultural rules that don't really seem applicable. I know "ALL of Scripture is God-breathed, useful ... " etc, but that doesn't make Leviticus any less boring.

Guess what book i've reached in my "read through the Bible in a year" plan?

I spent this morning reading my Bible's introduction to Leviticus. Possibly this was just a strategy on my part to put off actually reading Leviticus.

But guess what? The Reformation Study Bible actually has me looking forward to reading the book. Well, convinced that it's worthwhile, anyway, and committed to getting through it all again. On the off chance that some of y'all don't have the RSB (the translation is accurate and flowing, the contextual and theological notes are awesome, it weighs 422 pounds, you should get one), here's why i actually want to read Leviticus.

All the cultural prescriptions in Leviticus reflect the concepts and values that are foundational to God's people, Israel. These same ideas inform New Testament writers - especially their understanding of sin, sacrifice, and atonement. Leviticus teaches us to appreciate Christ's work of atonement.

As i read, i'm going to be looking for these main themes:

God's presence among His people. This is what Christ secured for us perfectly - the amazing gift of being able to enjoy God's presence.

Holiness. We are called to bear God's image in everything we do. "You shall be holy, as I am holy" (Lev. 11:45)

Atonement through Sacrifice. If God is holy, and we are not, we're in trouble. Yet God sacrificed his Son to satisfy his holiness and secure us into a relationship with himself. Leviticus should be a great place to see God's character, and his relationship with unholy people, depicted.

I'll let you know how it goes!

Throwing Inkwells

This week I had the great privilege to pray with a friend who shared a prayer from Beth Moore's book, So Long Insecurity. I haven't read the book, but that prayer was intense. We were there before God's throne, confessing our deepest fears -- the secret failures to believe His promises to us.

Where does insecurity come from? Why do I protect myself from relationships? Why am I afraid to be known? Why am I so afraid of conflict?

Satan sitting on my shoulder with a pocket mirror, showing me my own face. I know who I am. I don't deserve to be loved. I don't deserve to be happy.

Thomas Merton writes, "The beginning of the fight against hatred, the basic Christian answer to hatred, is not the commandment to love, but what must necessarily come before in order to make the commandment bearable and comprehensible. It is a prior commandment, to believe. The root of Christian love is not the will to love, but the faith that one is loved. The faith that one is loved by God. That faith that one is loved by God although unworthy--or rather, irrespective of one's worth!

"In the true Christian vision of God's love, the idea of worthiness loses its significance. Revelation of the mercy of God makes the whole problem of worthiness something almost laughable: the discovery that worthiness is of no special consequence (since no one could ever, by himself, be worthy to be loved with such a love) is a true liberation of spirit. And until this discovery is made, until this liberation has been brought about by the divine mercy, man is imprisoned in hate.

"Humanistic love will not serve. As long as we believe that we hate no one, that we are merciful, that we are kind by our very nature, we deceive ourselves; our hatred is merely smoldering under the gray ashes of complacent optimism. We are apparently at peace with everyone because we think we are worthy. That is to say we have lost the capacity to face the question of unworthiness at all. But when we are delivered by the mercy of God the question no longer has a meaning." (New Seeds of Contemplation)

Or to put it more simply, "We love because He first loved us."

Who do I listen to? The devil showing me what i deserve? Or the God who tells me i am His precious possession forever?

If God has called me beloved, who am i to disbelieve Him?

Lord, grant me the trust in Your love to go forth boldly. To live boldly, to love freely, to serve without fear. To live every moment delighting in the relationship You have brought me into.

Hidden

Fear not, stand firm

Since the beginning of January, I've been trying to follow a schedule of readings that will take me through the whole Bible in a year. I have to admit, three chapters of Exodus can be a tough chunk to get through in a morning. Especially before I've finished that vital second cup of coffee.

For every sloggy day, though, God laces a verse into my life like sweet water, and I see sinblind ideas rinse away like so much sediment. Like a few mornings ago. I was camped out in Exodus 14 with the Israelites:

"When Pharoah drew near, the people of Israel lifted up their eyes, and behold, the Egyptians were marching after them, and they feared greatly. And the people of Israel cried out to the LORD. They said to Moses, 'Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us in bringing us out of Egypt? Is this not what we said to you in Egypt: 'Leave us alone that we may serve the Egyptians'? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.'
"And Moses said to the people, 

 'Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which He will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.'" 

(Exodus 14:10-14, English Standard Version)

There I am, scared of the "disorder" (fanged chaos!) behind me, trying not to panic at the task that is if anything more horrible, impassible in front of me. And God says He's going to fight the battle for me. 

Here I am, so afraid that I'll fail at the struggle ahead of me. Thinking defeat is so certain I might as well go back to Egypt. And He reminds me that it's not my struggle. It's His. And He's already won. I know Him, His love, His power, His trustworthiness. It doesn't matter that I can't win. I can -- I have the incomparable gift of being able to "delight myself in the Lord," and trust Him to bring me where He wants me to be, in His time.

"For freedom Christ has set you free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery," Paul writes (Galatians 5:21).

 ***

And now for proof that God does, indeed, have a sense of humor. When I looked for pictures related to "Red Sea crossing," I thought I might find a classical painting of the Biblical scene I could link to. Guess what I found instead?

Apparently there is an underwater restaurant in the Red Sea.

Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for another high-calorie snack (^_^)

Praying the End of the Story

"My God -- my God! why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me? ... Oh my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest."

In Sunday School at my church here, we've been going through a series on prayer in the Bible. Last week, we studied Christ's prayer from the cross -- the gospel accounts of Christ's prayer all quote from Psalm 22. King David first wrote the words of Psalm 22, but they point unmistakeably to the Cross.

There is so much to learn, so much for which to be grateful in these few verses. Every time I read the passage, I am struck anew at how shocking, how grievous is my Christ's sacrifice on my behalf.
Because of his sacrifice, I can be confident that God will listen to my prayers with the loving attitude of a parent. For me, this means not being ashamed at my weak faith. It means coming boldly to God in all my imperfections -- and asking Him to make up for them. And believing that He wants to.

Look, too, at the way Jesus prays. The prayer divides into two distinct sections. The first section is a prayer of lamentation -- a cry of deep spiritual and physical anguish. "Oh my God, I cry by day ... and by night ... but I find no rest. ...Trouble is near, and there is none to help ... I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint ... you lay me in the dust of earth ... I can count all my bones." Even while he cries out in agony, though, the writer of Psalm 22 affirms what he knows about God: Even though I am in anguish, "Yet You are holy" (v 3). He appeals to the covenant relationship He has with God (9-10). He remembers past times when God has delivered him (21).

David/Christ's knowledge of Who God Is shapes the second part of his prayer. From verse 22, the psalm shifts from a present-tense cry for help to a future-tense certainty of God's goodness. Praise our great and worthy God, he says, even while he suffers (22-24).

We don't see how the psalmist's particular situation turns out -- whether he escapes persecution and suffering. What we do see is that his hope is that God hears the suffering of His servants. "The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied; those who seek him shall praise the Lord! May your hearts live forever." (26) What we see is the psalmist rejoicing that God will be worshiped as triumphant King (27-31).

Especially when I'm confused and scared, my prayers tend to sound like "Oh God, oh God, oh God, help me! What can I do? I can't handle this, God, oh God!" stuck in the stormy now, full of fear for the future.

So I've been trying to pray more like David, more like Christ. Say, "Oh God, hear me! I'm angry, I'm scared, I'm sad, I'm at the mercy of my emotions and my fears. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for getting me through this difficult time. Thank you for using this situation to make Your goodness known."

Just saying out loud those things I know are true -- that the present I hate and the future I can't see are in God's good and mighty hand -- helps me to persevere.

Y'all probably all figured that out a long time ago, but for what it's worth.

Jesus didn't die to save the person I wish I was

Who do you want to be?

Since I was young, I was told that I was brilliant. For a while I believed it. This is who I wanted to be, the creator of astonishing beauty. This is much of what drove my efforts in artwork, music, words. 


I wanted, also, to be a good person. To be self-sacrificing, honourable, strong.

It's hard to confront the fact that the person I thought I was doesn't really exist. That I am a lover of beauty, but not a creator. That I am much more selfish and frightened and weak than I wanted.

How much of my life has been running away from that confrontation? I've poured so much energy into staying thin enough to "feel like myself." Does looking at my thin or not-thin self in the mirror keep me busy enough not to have to look at my character, my true self?

God tells us throughout His word that we are created to show forth His glory. He made me to reflect Himself.

Thomas Merton writes,

     "Every one of us is shadowed by an illusory person: a false self. This is the man that I want myself to be but who cannot exist, because God does not know anything about him. ... My false and private self is the one who wants to exist outside the reach of God's will and God's love--outside of reality and outside of life. And such a self cannot help but be an illusion. 
     We are not very good at recognizing illusions, least of all the ones we cherish about ourselves--the ones we are born with and which feed the roots of sin. For most of the people in the world, there is no greater subjective reality than this false self of theirs, which cannot exist. A life devoted to the cult of this shadow is what is called a life of sin. 
     All sin starts from the assumption that my false self, the self that exists only in my own egocentric desires, is the fundamental reality of life to which everything else in the universe is ordered. Thus I use up my life in the desire for pleasures and the thirst for experiences, for power, honour, knowledge and love, to clothe this false self and construct its nothingness into something objectively real. And I wind experiences around myself and cover myself with pleasures and glory like bandages in order to make myself perceptible to myself and to the world, as if I were an invisible body that could only become visible when something visible covered its surface.
     But there is no substance under the things with which I am clothed. I am hollow, and my structure of pleasures and ambitions has no foundation. I am objectified in them. But they are all destined by their very contingency to be destroyed. And when they are gone there will be nothing left of me but my own nakedness and emptiness and hollowness, to tell me that I am my own mistake.


     "The secret of my identity is hidden in the love and mercy of God. ... Ultimately the only way that I can be myself is to become identified with Him in Whom is hidden the reason and fulfillment of my existence.
Therefore there is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace and my happiness depend: to discover myself in discovering God. If I find Him I will find myself and if I find my true self I will find Him."  (New Seeds of Contemplation, 31-36)


"In order to become myself I must cease to be what I always thought I wanted to be, and in order to find myself I must go out of myself, and in order to live I have to die. The reason for this is that I am born in selfishness and therefore my natural efforts to make myself more real and more myself, make me less real and less myself, because they revolve around a lie." (47)

After regeneration, Merton says, "life becomes a series of choices between the fiction of our false self, whom we feed with the illusions of passion and selfish appetite, and our loving consent to the purely gratuitous mercy of God." (41)

Christ didn't die to save the beautiful person I want to be.

He came to save the person that I am. He looked at me -- me -- and called me His beloved bride.

So do I keep trying to believe I am the person who I want to be, the sad and shining heroine of my own lifestory? Do I distract myself from existence entirely?


Or do I take what I am -- what I really am, so much less than I desire -- and bring it to God? Humbly, gratefully, forget my own desires and seek only to know Him? Forget about the genius I wanted, and take up the small talents He gave me, and say, "Here am I for Your service"?

Me, Darth Maul, and Other Fugitives (Long)

Sleeping in, dates at Starbucks, and just plain going grocery shopping together. I am loving DH’s spring break! My admirable husband is keeping up with his studies, but we're still taking advantage of the extra free time. We've even started re-viewing the Star Wars hexology. Yes, all six movies. Even Episode I. (What WAS George Lucas thinking? Then again, I can see how the brain that came up with Ewoks, after several years' slow decline into senility, might think that Jar Jar Binks was actually a hilarious idea.)

Regardless of its strengths or weaknesses as a movie, I have a secret fondness for Episode I. You see, it features two of my favourite characters. My fondness for these two has nothing to do with their role in the story or the skill with which their actors portray them.

I like Queen Amidala. Not Padme, the emotive "handmaiden"; not the sensual, inexplicably older-but-apparently-grown-completely-STUPID Senator of Episode II, but the padded and painted Queen. I like her because of her outrageously voluminous, outrageously numerous ceremonial costumes. You could stick Jabba the Hutt in those gorgeous robes, paint his face, and tie on a thirty-pound headdress, and call him Queen Amidala, and as long as he spoke in an emotionless monotone no one would be able to tell the difference.

And I like Darth Maul. You see, he's got a full set of armor, tattooed in red and black stripes across his face. He could be giggling uncontrollably, grimacing in fear, or weeping with the tortuous weight of guilt he's accumulated from his years of Sithly deeds. And all anyone would be able to see would be Tattooed Scary Evil Guy.

Why do I like those characters? Because they're safe. Nobody can see anything but the functional role they have assumed. Padme's heart can be broken (although really - Hayden Whatsisname acting like a thirteen-year-old Artistic Soul?) -- Queen Amidala's heart is invisible. Unassailable. All that is there is the even performance of her function as Queen.

Kind of a long and nerdy intro, I know. I've been reading this book, by Ed Welch. As the title suggests, it's about what's up when other people become more important to a person (viz, me) than God. When other people become the focus of idolatry.

Do I define myself by who I am in Christ?

Or do I feel insecure when I can't compete with or measure up to others? Am I afraid of being laughed at? Of not being liked? Am I unable to say "no" when people ask me for commitments? Do I feel responsible for helping others and fixing their problems? Do I tell "little white lies" to smooth over difficult situations? To avoid offending people? Do I need to prove my independence from others? Do I avoid people? Do I feel that my "low self-esteem" is holding me back?

Do I fear God, or do I fear people?

This is a scary, scary book. It is a book that is not afraid to shine the light of truth into the scariest corners of our hearts. Reading it, I am confronted with my heart. It's not fun. I feel exactly like Eustace. Like God is peeling off all my makeup. And then my clothes. And then my skin.

My heart wants to be like Queen Amidala or Darth Maul. No, I don't want to rule the galaxy via the Dark Side of the Force. But, almost more than anything, I want to be functional -- unassailable -- in the ways those characters are. I want "people" to perceive me as someone who fulfills her role. Smoothly. I don't want them to see the inadequacies, the fears, the petty self-indulgences. I want a mask in the shape of my own face -- a mask that doesn't let through pouts or tears.

Why is it so important that others think of me -- not as someone extraordinary -- but as someone "functional"? So much so that, in the vast majority of my relationships, I exchange superficiality for real love and service?

Mr. Welch suggests that my tendency to hide from "people" is an indicator that I want to hide from God. Or perhaps, worded differently, a way to distract myself from the terror of that (inescapable!) Knowing.

Has anyone else read this book? What did you think?

For My Mother

Some verses that remind me that my justification before God is completely secure -- because it is completely in Christ's perfect merit:

From Isaiah 47:

 ¹⁵Truly, you are a God who hides himself,
   O God of Israel, the Savior.
¹⁶All of them are put to shame and confounded;
   the makers of idols go in confusion together.
¹⁷But Israel is saved by the LORD
   with everlasting salvation;
you shall not be put to shame or confounded
   to all eternity.
 ¹⁸For thus says the LORD,who created the heavens
   (he is God!),
who formed the earth and made it
   (he established it;
he did not create it empty,
    he formed it to be inhabited!):
"I am the LORD, and there is no other.
¹⁹ I did not speak in secret,
   in a land of darkness;
I did not say to the offspring of Jacob, 'Seek me in vain.'
I the LORD speak the truth;
   I declare what is right.
 ²⁰"Assemble yourselves and come;
   draw near together,
   you survivors of the nations!
They have no knowledge
   who carry about their wooden idols,
 and keep on praying to a god
   that cannot save.
²¹Declare and present your case;
   let them take counsel together!
Who told this long ago?
   Who declared it of old?
Was it not I, the LORD?
   And there is no other god besides me,
a righteous God and a Savior;
   there is none besides me.
 ²²"Turn to me and be saved,
 all the ends of the earth!
   For I am God, and there is no other.
²³By myself I have sworn;
   from my mouth has gone out in righteousness
   a word that shall not return:
'To me every knee shall bow,
   every tongue shall swear allegiance.'
 ²⁴"Only in the LORD, it shall be said of me,
   are righteousness and strength;
to him shall come and be ashamed
  all who were incensed against him.
²⁵In the LORD all the offspring of Israel
   shall be justified and shall glory."

From Romans 8:

³¹What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?  
³²He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?  
³³Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies.
³⁴Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. 

³⁵Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?

How Do You Pray?

We were in Matthew 14 Sunday -- the passage where Jesus walks out on the water to a boatful of seriously freaked-out disciples. By the time their master approaches them, the disciples are in a bad state. Stormy weather, scary sea, and on top of everything, it's "the fourth watch of the night" -- between 3 and 6 am. It's the darkest part of the night, and the disciples are exhausted from hours of rowing.

It's also, as Pastor Larson pointed out, the time of night right before dawn.

If I were my mom I'd have a Deep, Encouraging Yet Also Somehow Hilarious Message about what the gospel means to the really, really dark times in life. Instead, I'm going to talk about how much I hate winter. Y'all, it is definitely the Fourth Watch of the Winter here. And it is not pretty. I'm holding out hope for spring, because I know it's coming, but meanwhile I crawl around the apartment like a lethargic snake. I avoid looking out the window. And I snarl at my poor, patient husband.

Because I have the soul of a poet (at least I use that as my excuse for being messy), I get depressed pretty easily. I've always prayed a lot. I'm pretty good about praying for the people I love, because I think about them a lot. But this winter, God has really convicted me that WAY too much of my praying is nothing but self-indulgence.

We probably all have a friend who will call and talk for hours about how she's doing, and somehow never gets around to asking what's going on in our life. Well, a lot of the time, that's me talking to God. My days are filled with "Lord, I feel awful, please help me, please remind me of your goodness, please help me trust you and hang on here," et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

That, my friends, is LAME.

So my latest strategy is not just to stand in the living room moaning to Jesus about how unhappy I am, and how awful I feel because I'm such a worthless, ungrateful, whiny human being. Instead, I go into the bedroom, and I take out my current Black Book, and I start by writing a page of things that I am genuinely grateful for. Not things I should be grateful for, things I am grateful for. And then I pray. First I thank God for all his gifts, and then I confess my stinky attitude, and then just talk about whatever I need to.

So I still am mildly depressed a lot of the time, but I find myself with a lot more peace, and so much, much, much gratitude. I know being more deliberate about my prayers is really a no-brainer. This post isn't a How-To -- it's a Thank You.

Because after filling a lot of pages in my Black Book with "grateful lists," I am overwhelmed by the people God has put into my life. Family, friends, church family -- even the people I am only beginning to know. I have been so surrounded by love.

Sure, I'm grateful for all the stuff, but mostly I'm grateful for the people. If you're reading this, that probably means you.

So I just wanted to let you know. Thank you.

God is very good.

Jesus is the Real Chocolate

Happy birthday to my Dear Husband!

Growing up, there was always an index card taped to the door of a kitchen cabinet -- the one my Mom looked at every day as she prepared meals, wiped down the counter, picked up (AGAIN) all the toys and papers and miscellaneous junk that we kids somehow never got around to putting away. Over time the ink on the index card faded until you could hardly read it, but I had seen the card so often that I remembered the words without even looking at them:

"But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ.

"More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ." (Philippians 3:7-8, NASB)

I don't presume to say anything about what these verses meant to my Mom. That is her story. But to me -- let's just say that I am a perfectionist, and a legalist. For a long time I thought that being righteous meant giving things up for God. You saved me -- I owe you -- I don't really have anything I can give you -- but I can suffer loss for you. Everything that I want or enjoy, that I give up, is paying you back a little bit. Somehow, everything that is taken from me adds to my virtue. If you asked me, I could tell you that this mindset was not the truth -- but in my heart, it's what I believed.

That is NOT what God says. That is NOT the Gospel. The Gospel is not about suffering loss, or giving things up -- it is about gaining Christ. And what pleases God is not that I take satisfaction in my own sacrifice or loss, but that I be overwhelmed with delight in the amazing thing I have been given -- that I rejoice with "a joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory."

From the prophecies of Isaiah (read 35, 51, 55), to the angels' message to the shepherds in Bethlehem, to the teachings of Jesus Himself, the message of all the ages of God's interactions with His people is that Christ Himself is our joy. He brings us back into a relationship with the Father. He loves us with an unshakeable love. Christ is how we can adore God as our hearts long to.

When you find a treasure so beautiful it gives you that kind of joy, it isn't loss to sell everything you had before. 

Imagine you spent your whole life craving chocolate. You buy Hersheys kisses and M&Ms. You have one of those instant pudding cup-things after every meal. You drink hot chocolate by the bucketful. You even clip pictures of death-by-chocolate cakes from magazines and tape them to your wall. Somehow, it's never quite good enough.

Then someone gives you a bar of this stuff:

and you realize why none of your magazine pictures or Hershey's milk chocolate ever satisfied you.

Ye fearful saints

I have a text addiction. I read print compulsively. I am the kind of person who not only reads any and all books, magazines, and instruction manuals lying around, but who ALSO is unable to resist reading, for example, the small print on the back of the toothpaste container. Yes, I know it's boring. I read it anyway.

After about two years' worth of overnight visits to my grandparents', I had read all of my Dad's old history books, my Aunt's Harlequin romance novels, my Grammy's Chicken Soup books, and her cookbooks. My uncle's sports books had, strangely,. no attraction to me whatsoever. So I started reading my Grammy's collection of Guideposts magazine. She had issues she had saved from since before I was born!

I have to confess, I was a very arrogant young person. I sneered at the feel-good, I Believe In Angels, But I Try Not to Actually Think About Anything Too Hard kind of theology that a lot of the Guideposts stories exhibited. I especially sneered at the first verse of the poem "God Moves In A Mysterious Way," which appeared in every issue at the head of a short account of some miraculous cure or something.

Then I grew up, and had Issues, and lost some of my superior attitude, and read the whole poem, and the story behind it, and now it is one of my favourite hymns.

You see, the poet who wrote the words, William Cowper (that's COO-per, not COW-per), was a devoted Christian who wrote the words to many hymns. He also struggled with depression throughout his life. He spent a period in a mental institution (not a happy place to be in the 18th century), and attempted suicide at least once. Throughout his life, Cowper struggled with doubts about his own faith and salvation.

And he wrote this hymn:

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform.
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.


Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.


Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take--
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break 
In blessings on your head.


Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace--
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.


His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour.
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow'r.


Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan (interpret) His work in vain.
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

Dear Reader, surely this poem is not about the way God can miraculously cure someone suffering from cancer (although I believe He has done so, more than once). This poem offers encouragement to someone who sees no cure in sight. What a beautiful affirmation! What an encouraging reminder of the truth that it is God who saves us. That we may be overcome by our circumstances or feelings, but that God has a good and beautiful plan that He is accomplishing. We can trust Him, even when we cannot trust ourselves, if that makes sense. God can save someone like Cowper. God can use someone with a faith that seems feeble, at times even inadequate, to encourage hundreds of Christians. To bear witness to His goodness and His faithfulness. I may be tempted by despair, but I know that a good God holds my life in His hand. Even the dark bits of it. Not because of my faithfulness, but because of his faithfulness, "all shall be very well."

And if you haven't read my Mom's latest, do so!

I Always Avoid Posting

when I am not super happy. But since I don't have any thing enormously positive to share, and I don't want to drop off the face of the earth, it's Recipe Time! This is another one I cobbled together from different recipes. It's really good. You could probably modify it to fit the slow cooker as well ... This smells AMAZING, and it's really pretty too!. As always, spice measurements are approximate!

SOUP OF THE WEEK

Serves: 2+
Couple handfuls chickpeas (about 1/2 - 2/3 cup)
1 teaspoon fat (from the chicken broth, or vegetable or olive oil)
1 large carrot, scrubbed and sliced into thick chunks
1/2 onion, chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons minced or grated fresh ginger
1 scant teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon turmeric
Salt and black pepper
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 cups broth -- I used homemade chicken stock
1/2 cup (ish) cooked, chopped chicken (I used leftovers from Saturday's dinner)
If using dried chickpeas, you can quick-soak them by bringing them to a boil in a pot of water, then simmering for an hour or two until they are almost tender. Otherwise, just use canned chickpeas (about 1/2 can, I guess) and skip the soaking part.
When ready to prepare soup, heat oil and saute onion and carrot 5-10 minutes, or till just about tender. Add ginger and spices; cook another minute or so, till fragrant. Stir in tomato paste and broth, then add chickpeas and chicken meat. Reduce heat, cover partway, and let simmer till everything is tender or until time for dinner. If you want more of a stew, use less broth and cook uncovered to thicken.
Really good served over couscous. When I have homemade chicken stock I like to cook the couscous in that instead of in water -- mm!

OK, I changed my mind. I DO have something enormously positive to share. Because even if I am not at a great place right now, God is faithful. We have a sure hope. As my mom says, "All shall be very well."

"How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
    and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O Lord my God--
    Light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
    lest my enemy say "I have prevailed over him,"
    lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.
But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
    because he has dealt bountifully with me."
(Psalm 13)

I Want Gourds and Palm Trees

Another snowstorm today -- outside my window the world is white, the dingy grime of old snowdrifts blanketed by the clean new fall. The sky is so opaque, so pale, that it nearly blends into the fallen snow. It's a beautiful landscape -- all clear lines, blank and pale and very clean looking. Beautiful and bleak.

Last night, DH and I reached I Kings 6 in our reading together. Compared to the blank white in my window, the description of Solomon's temple made a vivid impression on my summer-starved mind. The author spends the whole chapter describing Solomon's construction of the temple in exuberant detail -- the measurements, the materials, and the decorations. This is an astonishing house -- the place where God physically dwells among His people. And the details of that house almost explode with hugeness of the joy of God's presence. Imagine walking into Solomon's temple -- built of costly stone, cedar, and cypress. All over the interior of the house is carved with gorgeous gourds or pomegranates, palm trees, and open flowers. Everything is overlaid with a layer of gleaming gold, and the air is thick with incense.

If we walked into a church and saw what is described in I Kings, we would be shocked at how gaudy it was.  The note in my Bible suggests that the carvings in the temple evoke the Garden of Eden. I was reminded of the rich language of the Song of Songs, the garden images of blooming and ripeness and abundance. Maybe a temple like Solomon's is no longer necessary, or culturally appropriate, but the imagery of the temple still speaks to who He Is. God is with his people like a bridegroom with his bride. In His presence is fullness of joy, an overflowing delight that explodes outward as if in tendrils and green leaves and gorgeous flowers and ripe fruit, filling up the world around it, unfurling into every space.

Solomon's temple reminded me that Christianity is not about my sacrifice or my endurance, although it does include those things. Instead, it is about life and growth where everything was once dead and cold. At the heart of Christianity is an enormous, uncontainable rejoicing in my God and His love.

Think About It

Jesus said:

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.

"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it."

Matthew 13:44-46

More Gratitude

So it hasn't exactly been the best couple of weeks for me. I think it has as much to do with the cold dark early as anything, but I have been WAY too focused on what I can't do, can't have, etc. Which really stinks. Made worse by the fact that I love to indulge myself by sulking.

So I want to share two ways that God encouraged me this week. We were listening to the sermon (which was great, as usual), and the passage closed with the verse where Christ tells his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest" (Matthew 9:37-38). I think this was really God speaking right to me. Among the many don't-do's and can't-do's that oppress me has sprung up the conviction that I am too shy in sharing my faith -- particularly with people whom I know are not Christians. I'm pretty sure that most of my guilt trips are straight from the devil, but I believe that I really and truly do need to be more proactive in speaking about Jesus. What I'm not sure is how to do that. I don't want to walk around banging people over the head with the Gospel, but at the same time, I have been waiting for YEARS, without success, for pagans to walk up to me and say, "Hey, tell me all about this Saviour of yours and why he's so great!" The answer to my dilemma was, of course, freakishly obvious. PRAY ABOUT IT. So that's what I'm doing -- praying for opportunities -- conversations or whatever -- and courage and wisdom to share what I believe most deeply -- and that God would make those glaringly obvious because of my dingbat tendencies. That's one request I know He will bless!


After the sermon, Pastor Larson asked, in the closing prayer, that God would help all of us to be faithful in the work before us, remembering that we are ultimately working for Him, and for His purposes, even in the little things. I wasn't really encouraged by that, because I have been kind of discouraged at work lately and I didn't want anyone telling me to suck it up and do my job. Not even God! I have loved brilliance and hated the hard work that goes into it. Sometimes I feel like I am filing paperwork when I should be learning to write the Great American Novel, or something. I am SO grateful for my job, but it can be frustrating in that it is both very simple and repetitive, and yet so high volume that I often feel inadequate. I KNOW that my "real job" is helping my family, and that God has a reason for the tasks and relationships He's given me at work, but dammit, I want to paint a masterpiece, not sit here drawing circles and circles and circles.

And then I started having stories again, and poems. The kind that buzz in your brain and in your fingers until you get out of bed at midnight to write them. I'm not unselfish enough yet to joyously offer writing as a sacrifice. And right now it seems like God is telling me I don't have to either-or, I can both. It is a small and a deep, deep gift. I'm nowhere near the Great Novel or anything, but writing, I don't worry anymore about What I Should Be Doing.


So maybe it hasn't been the best couple of weeks, but I have a lot to be thankful for.


And God isn't just good to ME, either. My Dear Husband is FINISHED with Biochem! On to the next class, but that is a great one to have out of the way. I am super proud and happy for him.

The Friday Update

If you are wondering where Tuesday's update went to, just scroll down for your by-now-usual Apology By Recipe, in the form of a slow cooker lentil stew recipe. We like lentils around here because they are cheap, healthy, and delicious. And anything with curry powder and lots of spices keeps me happy! If lentils are not your thing ... stay tuned for a FREE EXTRA RECIPE Saturday or Sunday! Yes people, I am that nice!

I have to share what a great experience it was to teach the girls' Sunday School class this week. I am so grateful for the opportunity to do that. The beautiful, vibrant woman who usually teaches the girls has been working through the Creation story. It just so happened that my lesson was the story of the Fall -- a familiar story, but a hard one to teach. The curriculum made a point not just to retell the story, but also to try and emphasize the real, spiritual and physical impact of the Fall. And talking with the girls -- well, it doesn't take much life experience to realise that Stuff Is Not Right. The tricky part is living in a world where so much is bent or shattered, without losing hope. I loved that our lesson really emphasised that creation is still good -- it still reflects God's glory and image, even if that picture is distorted; that there is redemption NOW in Christ; and finally, that creation will be restored. There will be a new Heaven and a new Earth -- all of creation will be able to fulfill its end without being messed up by the effects of sin.

Those are huge ideas, and I hope God used me to communicate them to the girls last week. I know that he was using the lesson to remind me of those truths, as well. My tendency is to live life in an eternal Now -- as a kaleidoscopy of discrete moments and experiences rather than as a progression or a development. In such a mindset, beauty is glorious -- and unbeauty is utterly devastating. Life becomes a matter of survival rather than of progress.

But God says that my life had a beginning, and that it is moving toward an End. Both are in Him, and it is when I am looking outside of my moments to the One who contains them that I am able to move, slowly and painfully and with great joy, closer to Him.

The amount of underlining and scribbling on Hebrews 12 in my Bible shows exactly how difficult it is for me to do this!