Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Than leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
"But we who would be born again indeed, must wake our souls unnumbered times a day."
by George MacDonald in Diary of An Old Soul
"If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world."
--C.S. Lewis
These past few days I've been tossing thoughts in my head, hoping they would ricochet around and somehow descend upon my heart. Beauty and Affliction seem so closely knit. Grief and Joy hold hands in that interdigitized way of lovers. Many of my experiences are a breath (or a breath being knocked out of me) that awakens me to the depths of Alive, followed by hollow moments and more hollow moments of existence. But when I am feeling, when I am most alive, I find there the promise of beauty mixed inseparably with the soul sting of affliction. Our truest relationships prove this... where we are known and loved and most desperately vulnerable.
As I consider, my most precious rememberences are the moments that caught me off guard-- like stones skipping across a lake-- these are the points of contact, the moments that make me know that I'm alive. Both in beauty and in affliction. in joy and in grief. Like returning from an impoverished country to a Thanksgiving meal, surrounded by familiar and abundance. How does the heart hold such contrast? Like standing over the grave of a dear friend. It wouldn't hurt so deep in death if it hadn't been so true in life. Like a gentle and passionate kiss. The world and all it's demands and details are completely forgotten. Like the sting of frigid air on the cheeks, refreshing the lungs and quickening the legs! Like the attentive discipline of a parent. Like birth. Like old hymns lifted on our lips in the congregation on Easter Sunday. In faith we are grateful, and yet we wait.
The quotes of MacDonald, Frost, and Lewis each touch me right now. Men who have gone before, calling back over their shoulders that they have been Alive and have also found life to be wanting.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Unedited Thoughts: An American Christian Growing Up
A few weeks ago I got tired of talking to God. Recently, our conversation was been this: me—“God, I want to grow up. Help”. God—“become like a child. Humble”. Like someone on the fringe of sanity, I ignored the answer and repeated the question—hoping for a new reply—something more in line with responsibility and “maturity” and effort, something heroic, something concrete.
What is grown up in America? Someone who has started a family, is working a job, is loyal to a church—if that’s his/her cup of tea, someone with hobbies, a house, and functioning friendships. Not very childlike. And not really me right now. Maybe that’s the rub with God. So, I grew tired of asking for something that resembled the hierarchy of my culture. And I finally asked a useful question: Lord, show me my idols.
Does a woman say to her husband of 15 years “Honey, be honest with me, in what ways do I not live up to the vows I promised to you at the altar?” “What do I put before you in our lives?” “Is there anything I love more than you?” That is the question I asked the One with greater capacity for romance than we could ever imagine. How far short I fall can’t even possibly be a question.
I anticipated a new conversation unfolding, more pointed than the round and round we had in weeks past. Happily, I distracted myself with thoughts of the American church and our insidious idols. These are my unedited thoughts from that brief journal entry:
“Many Christians take pride in prosperity as evidence that You’ve blessed them. Many take pride in poverty as evidence of a holy life—pleasing to You. Many take pride in their families as a mark of Your good favor. Many take pride in their chastity as a mark of pure devotion to You. Many Christians take pride in their ministries—proof of a life that has served You well. Many take pride in their distinctiveness, either as a life set apart from the world, or as a life who has earned the trust of the world. Many Christians take pride in their traditions, of standing on a foundation we call our own. Many take pride in being radical, of forsaking the errors that are our own. Many take pride in their traumas—evidence that you’ve trusted them with suffering. Many take pride in their innocence—evidence that you’ve protected them from evil. Many are fundamentalist—claiming a hatred of the enticements pursued in pleasure. Many are hedonist—claiming a life enlivened by pursuits of pleasure.
“Lord, we are fools. We forget that we cannot cause Salvation for ourselves. Our only boast is in Christ! May our Savior’s extreme love for us again stir our affections aright!”
We want heroic... something concrete. Well, I do anyway. But I'm learning (again) that "grown up" isn't something I can forge in my own strength. And it isn't a destination I can arrive at by causing myself to be there. He wants childlike... something of simple believing that we are-- and that I am-- truly caught up in a crazy-indescribable romance. Insidious idols aren't welcomed here, for they aren't very grown up at all.
What is grown up in America? Someone who has started a family, is working a job, is loyal to a church—if that’s his/her cup of tea, someone with hobbies, a house, and functioning friendships. Not very childlike. And not really me right now. Maybe that’s the rub with God. So, I grew tired of asking for something that resembled the hierarchy of my culture. And I finally asked a useful question: Lord, show me my idols.
Does a woman say to her husband of 15 years “Honey, be honest with me, in what ways do I not live up to the vows I promised to you at the altar?” “What do I put before you in our lives?” “Is there anything I love more than you?” That is the question I asked the One with greater capacity for romance than we could ever imagine. How far short I fall can’t even possibly be a question.
I anticipated a new conversation unfolding, more pointed than the round and round we had in weeks past. Happily, I distracted myself with thoughts of the American church and our insidious idols. These are my unedited thoughts from that brief journal entry:
“Many Christians take pride in prosperity as evidence that You’ve blessed them. Many take pride in poverty as evidence of a holy life—pleasing to You. Many take pride in their families as a mark of Your good favor. Many take pride in their chastity as a mark of pure devotion to You. Many Christians take pride in their ministries—proof of a life that has served You well. Many take pride in their distinctiveness, either as a life set apart from the world, or as a life who has earned the trust of the world. Many Christians take pride in their traditions, of standing on a foundation we call our own. Many take pride in being radical, of forsaking the errors that are our own. Many take pride in their traumas—evidence that you’ve trusted them with suffering. Many take pride in their innocence—evidence that you’ve protected them from evil. Many are fundamentalist—claiming a hatred of the enticements pursued in pleasure. Many are hedonist—claiming a life enlivened by pursuits of pleasure.
“Lord, we are fools. We forget that we cannot cause Salvation for ourselves. Our only boast is in Christ! May our Savior’s extreme love for us again stir our affections aright!”
We want heroic... something concrete. Well, I do anyway. But I'm learning (again) that "grown up" isn't something I can forge in my own strength. And it isn't a destination I can arrive at by causing myself to be there. He wants childlike... something of simple believing that we are-- and that I am-- truly caught up in a crazy-indescribable romance. Insidious idols aren't welcomed here, for they aren't very grown up at all.
Jade is Dead
I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it!
Jade is dead.
I'm still in shock as the day's events have unfolded. I knew she wasn't well the past few days, she had been turning black and drooping a bit. But I wasn't prepared for what I found this morning when I awoke. She seems to have just given up. So, as I considered her plight and as I packed today (for Christmas in Arizona and then the next 5 months in the Caribbean on assignment), I had to make a difficult decision....
We've had such a wonderful roommate relationship these past 5 months... she seemed perky, she seemed full. Was it all a lie? She would sit on the counter sometimes when I cooked-- as we together anticipated company arriving for a meal. I would sing and know that she was listening, dance and hope she wasn't too traumatized by the motion. She went too soon... I wasn't ready to say goodbye. Our relationship as roommates was so short-lived. There was so much potential for us, for Jade to grow big and strong and for us to share so many many years together. I wanted to entrust her to someone... you know... just for when I was gone. I wanted to return to her and know that she was happy. But she hasn't been well. And she wasn't getting better. So, I let her go today. Jade, my Succulent Jade houseplant, is gone. And all I have left is the shell that she once lived in... the glazed blue 4" pot. Sigh. It's difficult, she goes in the way of houseplants I've cared for in the past: the cactus, the African Violet, the Ivy-type plant. All gone too soon, withered under my love. And so, too, has Jade.
Here's a picture we took together just this morning, as we shared our final moments together. I was so sad!
Jade is dead.
I'm still in shock as the day's events have unfolded. I knew she wasn't well the past few days, she had been turning black and drooping a bit. But I wasn't prepared for what I found this morning when I awoke. She seems to have just given up. So, as I considered her plight and as I packed today (for Christmas in Arizona and then the next 5 months in the Caribbean on assignment), I had to make a difficult decision....
We've had such a wonderful roommate relationship these past 5 months... she seemed perky, she seemed full. Was it all a lie? She would sit on the counter sometimes when I cooked-- as we together anticipated company arriving for a meal. I would sing and know that she was listening, dance and hope she wasn't too traumatized by the motion. She went too soon... I wasn't ready to say goodbye. Our relationship as roommates was so short-lived. There was so much potential for us, for Jade to grow big and strong and for us to share so many many years together. I wanted to entrust her to someone... you know... just for when I was gone. I wanted to return to her and know that she was happy. But she hasn't been well. And she wasn't getting better. So, I let her go today. Jade, my Succulent Jade houseplant, is gone. And all I have left is the shell that she once lived in... the glazed blue 4" pot. Sigh. It's difficult, she goes in the way of houseplants I've cared for in the past: the cactus, the African Violet, the Ivy-type plant. All gone too soon, withered under my love. And so, too, has Jade.
Here's a picture we took together just this morning, as we shared our final moments together. I was so sad!
Thanksgiving Funness!
Amanda and I spent Thanksgiving together in her dorm!!! We prepared a full meal with limited utensils: testing our ability to be resourceful, playing a fierce game of Slamwich and watching "The Devil Wears Prada" while preparing the food. We planned to dress up pretty, but forgot... distracted by our tasty turkey and Amanda mourning that "the Office" didn't air that day! Thanks for the great day, Sis.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Ukraine's Got Talent
Kseniya Simonova is a Ukrainian artist who just won Ukraine's version of "America's Got Talent." She uses a giant light box, dramatic music, imagination and "sand painting" skills to interpret Germany's invasion and occupation of Ukraine during WWII. Her talent is unique and powerful... it's an inspiring 8min33second watch:
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