Now that I'm married...

I've heard a lot of fascinating things happen when you get married: life starts making sense, you realize all your spouse's faults, you feel more confident, and you start learning all sorts of stuff about God.

Maybe I'm just an idiot, or Amy and I have been doing something wrong, but none of those things really jump out at me from two weeks later. I like being married a lot, prefer it, even, but I don't really feel like co-habitation and all that goes with it (that is, the practical side of marriage) has really given me any new wisdom. I'm just trying to love Amy's all, and I just have more opportunities now.

We were talking about sacrificing the other day, because we both have heard that it's pretty essential to marriage, and we've done our share of it in dating, and some in our short time of matrimony. Anyway, we were talking about how sacrifice and forgiveness are sort of the ultimate sides of selfless love, and I thought I'd mention somebody who really inspires me.

My friend Kyle is one of the most mercurial people I've ever met, but that doesn't mean I find much in him to dislike. He's had some tough times with his family, and that's really where I've been able to observe the most Christ-like love I've ever seen. I was sitting with Kyle and two other friends on the back of his houseboat at Easter, and we were discussing the "greatest things we'd ever done." None of us could really think of anything great we'd done, but Kyle, after a long silence which I thought meant he assumed the question was kind of dumb, spoke up with, "The greatest thing I've ever done is forgiving my Dad."

And it was the hardest thing he'd ever done. It's a scary hope, but I hope that I can, someday, love like Kyle has loved. He's getting married tomorrow, and I can't think of a luckier girl than his bride. Congratulations, guys.

Moaning Over the Nativity

Friday morning on my way to lunch, I was getting thoroughly annoyed with the constant sound of commercials coming from the radio, so I flipped to the classical station, where the songs are so long that the odds are against tuning into a commercial.  I had just enough time to hear "And this is his Nativity Overture" before the music began.

The first few notes sounded from the strings section, low and ominous.  A sad, slow air came from the flutes, and the rest of the orchestra eventually mourned along.  I was feeling sufficiently somber, and then I remembered that the song was called "The Nativity."  I thought, "Wait a second!  This is no ordinary carol.  Not a whole lot of good Christian men rejoicing here."  I had to consider why the Nativity would be such a sad song.

The normal scandal of being born in a stable hit me, and that was sad enough, I guess.  But I think there is a definite scandal to the whole Incarnation, even without the Crucifixion and torture and hate.  I'm thinking about the Light being dimmed so it can be seen by all men.  I'm considering what it means for the Son of God to be contained.  No wonder the gnostics couldn't handle the idea of the Word becoming flesh.  He reigns supreme over the Cosmos, and yet He made his dwelling with us.

I don't think the sadness is a result of these things alone, though.  Whenever someone is obviously humble, it produces a sort of tension between jaw-dropping and mouth-shutting.  I think when we look at a major step in the Greatest Humility we should feel a sort of sadness.

But I still can't help admiring the Joy brought To The World.

Out of Focus

A friend was saying the other day how common it is for people, particularly Christians to go "out on the range, just looking for a fence to be on one side of."  I think people just focus on the wrong things.  In this illustration, people are focusing on theology rather than God.

I really believe that focusing on anything rather than the Person(s) of the Trinitarian God leads us to get some pretty screwy ideas.  What's the problem with the cults?  They focus too much on the unity of God or the mission of the church and forget about the Person of Christ.  Or Christian groups will forget put evangelism before love.  And it really gets messed up when people start thinking they have this "key idea."

I love thinking about stuff that's philosophical and theological.  It's not only a good way to recognize God, but it makes me feel smart and cool.  I just get so mixed up in the ideas (even the good ones) sometimes that I just think of God as an idea, as opposed to the Ultimate Reality.  I love the reason so much that I forget the fact that it's existential.

I Have Scorned The Deeper Dealings

This is a poem I wrote about self-denial.

I have scorned the deeper dealings in dark Amsterdam's dread dens.
I have prated on the prairies; I have fasted in the fens.
Now, still, I seek that fruit where all joy's beginning's end,
And You are here and love and great,
Offering grace in Your mandate.
How can I deny the body unless you snatch me and transcend?

You have loved the deeper dealers in dark Amsterdam's dread dens.
You were broken in the brooks; You were fettered in the fens.
You have offered bread and wine, that my meets its end.
And You are here and love and vision,
Offering grace in Your commission.
I will step into the world, if Your hands my knees will bend.

Wading, Wading

I'm trying to understand what's important, what I need to focus on.  I spend so much of my time looking at things that will affect me for a little while and so little looking at the Cross.

I wonder, often enough, what I'm supposed to be looking toward.  The plot of the Bible seems to be the building of the Kingdom, so I guess that's what Earth's for.  I really hope that my life can be about that too.  If I try to find a plot in my life, it looks more like Kerouac in On The Road, just a guy sort of wandering.  I don't think I'll ever be that immoral, but I do think that if I don't stay focused, I could be like Hemingway in The Snows of Kilimanjaro.  Empty.

But how am I a part of this holy enterprise?  Can I contribute?  I wonder if my greatest contribution will be just getting out of the way.

When we lived in Brush Creek, Dad had this long wall he was building out of rocks.  There were a bunch of them in the area from the old, old days, and he loved them, and so he was building one behind our house.  It helped stop the erosion, too.  Anyway, I remember this one time Cameron and I were out that trying to help, and there was this big rock in the ground the was pointed all the wrong way, and we couldn't lay any stones on top of it.  This was a huge rock, too.  In the end, all we could do was work forever to get it out of the groud so the wall could be built right.  I wonder if some people are like that rock, and their greatest success is being moved.  And it's not their success at all, but the Builder's.

Not exactly an epic role, I know.  But then again, maybe my story shouldn't be epic.  My story should just be a part of His.

Overcome

Blogging's funny. I sort of philosophize about whatever's going on. Well, right now, fear's going on. Paralyzing, unholy fear.

Let me lay down the stats:
3 - hours I spend a day looking for a job
4 - nights in the last week where I've had trouble falling asleep because of worry about getting a job.
3 - Interviewers or resume reviewers who have told me I am unqualified (which I can't blame them for; I am.)
100% - of my recent prayers have ended with me forgetting that I'm praying and continuing to worry. Even if I'm praying about being faithful to God.

I don't know why we do this as humans. I mean, if there's one theme I want to have in this blog, it's that I try to look at things from Eternity's angle. But sometimes I just straight up don't believe in that stuff. I believe strongly in schedules and friends and deadlines and incompetence and very little in God's faithfulness. And that's just unrealistic.

A good view would hold worry as a pathetic and prideful thing, one that seeks to have everything in the person's control yet recognizes the lack of ability to control these things. A good view would recognize the fact that God leads the universe like a conductor a symphony, and the right sound comes out, even though that violinist in the back doesn't have a clue what he's doing.

But still the violinist sits and worries, not about how the band will sound, but about whether or not he'll be able to crescendo at the right time or play all those 32nd notes fast enough.

AND IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER.

All I should do is be faithful to what God of Eternity has given me. Unfortunately, I'm more likely to succumb to the prince of this world.

Death and Divorce

I got this idea today while I was taking out the trash at work -

What if the reason we feel so much pain at people's passing has more to do with the picture of separation than it does with our own hurt?

To go on - the greatness of marriage lies in its picture of Christ and the Church in unity. That's why marriage is so beautiful, why everyone's so happy. Let's face it: John and Jane planning to spend a lot of time together is, in itself, just a very nice gesture on each individual's part. But the picture, that's the real deal.

So what if death is like that. Separation forever. Gone, and that relationship won't exist anymore. Looks a lot like a miniature picture of hell, eh?

That's all.