30 Best Papers, pt. 3

1.      Fear

There are three types of fearing God: doing right out the fear of punishment, out of the fear of losing reward, and out of the fear of broken relationship. The closer you are to God, the less you will do right out of the motivation of the fear punishment or of loss of reward. When what you value most is the relationship, the more you will seek to do right out of the fear of breaking that relationship because of sin.

Fear of Punishment: “Dear God, don’t let me go there. Amen.”

Fire insurance. That is what being a Christian was for me at age 8. I liked Jesus, God, and all of the stories, but the push over the edge was hell. I will be honest: I lay in bed, scared out of my wits that I didn’t do it right. I re-prayed the sinner’s prayer every night, just in case I didn’t wake up. Because it didn’t hurt to make sure. And it would hurt if I’d messed up.

“No one likes the idea of hell.” My pastor said, “I mean, who sits around going ‘hell—yeah, that is my kind of idea!’ Maybe some sickos, but that is something else. If it were about picking and choosing what we wanted from the Bible, we wouldn’t throw out “God loves you” and keep the idea of hell. I wouldn’t.”

Most of my theological discussions, including those about hell, involve references to the Narnia book series or something C.S. Lewis wrote, like “The Great Divorce.” He doesn’t say it is truth, he just says it is a story of how it might be. Of how he is trying to wrap his head around things. And I want it. I want it to be right so badly. “I don’t think it is true.” My sister told me, “They are beautiful ideas and it made me, for the first time, stop and really think that maybe everything could be ok. But I don’t think that is what the Bible is talking about.”

To which I politely thought “Shit.” And I don’t think dirty words often. I don’t like them.  Out loud I said “That is really honest. I don’t think I am ready to be that honest yet.” I didn’t want to travel my thoughts about hell down the rabbit hole. Because it is dark down there. I like forgetting how much I don’t know about everything. Because once I think about it I come to some conclusion and you are accountable for your conclusions.

A current theological hot spot is what you think about hell, and how that fits in with a loving God. Rob Bell brought the discussion out of the closet with his book “Love Wins.” I don’t think he got everything right. I don’t think C. S. Lewis did either. And I know I don’t have it all right. But we are looking.  I can’t explain away all the references to hell the way Rob Bell did, just like I couldn’t with homosexuality. Trust me, I tried. And while I think very differently about homosexuality today than I did in the past, I still know that it is wrong. I just don’t have all the answers. And that doesn’t make me happy.

Fear of Loss of Reward: Is it worth it?

Growing up, I realized if Christianity was just about heaven and hell it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t feeling suicidal, so I still had this life to deal with. If Christianity didn’t work now, I wasn’t ready to step out and believe it would work after death. On the garage, A friend and I graffited the question “Is there life before death?” I am a child of my generation with an uncanny ability to piece together what makes sense into a web of semi-solid information that I feel comfortable living with, but is that enough when it comes to eternity?

 “Our eschatology shapes our ethics. Eschatology is about last things. Ethics are about how you live. What you believe about the future shapes, informs, and determines how you live now…so when people ask: “What will we do in heaven?” one possible answer is to simply ask: “What do you love to do now that will go on in the world to come?” What makes you think “I could do this forever?” What is it that makes you think, “I was made for this?” Imagine being a racist in heaven-on-earth, sitting down at the great feast and realizing that you’re sitting next to THEM. THOSE people. The ones you’ve despised for years. Your racist attitude would simply not survive…Paul makes it very clear that we will have our true selves revealed and that once the sins and habits and bigotry and pride and petty jealousies are prohibited and removed, for some there simply won’t be much left. Jesus is interested in our hearts being transformed, so that we can actually handle heaven.” –Rob Bell

Some people use hell to scare people. They must not think church is worth it without the fire and brimstone. Some people use the idea of no hell to think they can do whatever they want. That is no better. Trying to evade responsibility isn’t going to help you in this life or the next, whether you add the label “Christian” or not. I know life is better with Jesus, now and forever. I know this because of my own life. So I want everyone I love to know Jesus. Because I want them to have a better life, with a hope and a future. Not because of hell.

Fear of Breaking Relationship: “Your love is better than life.” Psalm 63:3

Rob Bell discusses when someone commented that Gandhi was in hell: “Somebody knows this? Without a doubt? And that somebody decided to take on the responsibility of letting the rest of us know?” Were his questions. Is Gandhi in hell? I don’t know. I don’t know Gandhi. What sends someone to hell? What sends someone to heaven? Are there certain words that need to be prayed to be saved? How do you know they meant it for real? That they believed it?

 

What about a chance to accept Jesus after people die? Like in The Last Battle and they enter through the door and look Aslan in the face? Great idea, I think. True? I don’t know. It doesn’t say it in the Bible. What about more than one chance? Like in The Great Divorce where they could go at any time to heaven from hell, riding a bus? Great idea, I think. True? I don’t know. It doesn’t say it in the Bible.

Once I asked God why he wouldn’t show me more than six months of my life at a time. He said because then I wouldn’t have to trust him.  He is right. I wouldn’t. I would get started on my life like a “To do” post-it note list. Maybe all of these things about the afterlife aren’t written in the Bible because God knew that then we wouldn’t find how great He was while we were here on earth. I don’t know. For some reason, He left out A LOT of stuff. Stuff that worries me. Stuff that makes me trust Him instead of being able to write out my beliefs in bullet point form.

 “Religions should not surprise us. We crave meaning and order and explanation. We’re desperate for connection with something or somebody greater than ourselves. This has not caught Jesus off guard. Jesus insisted in the midst of this massive array of belief and practice that God was doing something new in human history, something through him, something that involved everybody (John 14:6).”  --Rob Bell

Christendom has given me a vague but general outline of what it means to be saved. Believing in Jesus, accepting Christ, giving God your life…those are some of the words I try to describe it as. But really—most of it I have never found words for. In the end I mostly shrug my shoulders and say it is a personal relationship with Jesus. Which, when you think about it, sounds absolutely ridiculous. You know Jesus? God? Creator? HIM? How? When did you talk to Him? What did he sound like? What did He say? Do you laugh together? Argue? I give another shrug, and a “yes.”

Boil down the issue of hell and you come face to face with God. Who is He? Do I have the right God? Have I warped my image of Him with the same manipulation that I do in other areas of my life? Is my Jesus just an idol hodge-podge of what is convenient to me? Of what sounds right? Of what feels right? Can I trust Him?

Yes. God is big enough not to let me screw it all up. I’ll keep learning. And probably rewrite this in ten years. When I finally got up the courage to question God, I hurled all my questions to a big black starless sky. I yelled really loudly. I scared the neighbors. He didn’t answer a single one. But at the end of the night, I knew He loved me.

I sat inside my bedroom, curled up behind the door with tears falling. A close friend had just committed suicide. Why? I asked God. No answer, but I knew He was crying too. He loved her more than I did. And from those and other experiences, I figured I didn’t know the answers, but if God loved me, and if He loved everyone else as much as He loved me, then the rest could be figured out later.

I believe there is a hell. I wish I didn’t. I believe there is a lot about hell I don’t know. I also know that God is just. And each person will be judged, punished, and rewarded. Justly. Perfectly. The exact right amount. The exact right amount of time. Yeah, that is scary. And not just for people who don’t call themselves Christians. For all of us. I want the people I love—and that should be everyone—to be happy. It is my default position. And I know the way they can be happiest is with Jesus. So I tell them about Jesus. Because it works. Now. Later. In between.

 

2.      Frankenstein

“Don’t reinvent the wheel, just realign it.” –Anthony D’Angelo

Great thinkers throughout time have put forth a lot of effort to produce their utopias. I take the Frankenstein approach—a little from here, a little from there—to create my new monster.

For a utopia, outwardly, everyone’s needs must be met, and inwardly, it must be realized that those needs are being met. Repression (dealing with the balance of freedom and equality) and human nature (so the inner change can be realized and actualized) are important parts of making this change or leap into utopia. It only takes one thing out of place or in disharmony, and utopia has turned into dystopia. Either people are somehow transformed to not be able to be imperfect (or create dystopia), or they continue in imperfection, and the disharmony/imperfection is somehow repressed/controlled.

I don’t think we will ever achieve the “desire-less” human nature, so my utopia would have a uniting drive in human nature (a positive objective), and use repression as a personal, sacrificial decision made to balance freedom and equality. A willingness to repress some of my own individuality may be needed to maintain the change toward utopia. Since each person’s utopia looks different, if my utopia involves working because it brings me pleasure, and for John Doe it does not involve work because work is enslavement, a collective utopia would, in some form, involve repression to some extent, since our ideas are incompatible. This “giving in” of some of my personal freedom is what creates the balance of freedom and common good for all.

We should never underestimate the creativity of human nature: when one set of problems are removed, we are sure to find another. Utopia is a continual work. Where we should be moving up Maslow’ hierarchy of needs, we instead create a new bottom level once we have climbed up the previous one.  My utopia builds upon what is learned from the real life example of the utopian project of the Kibbutz.

Spiro points out three things that happened to create something different (collectivism) that lead to the beginning of the kibbutz and utopian living: distance from the past, powerful unifying experiences, and a strong belief system.

My utopia is distanced through time (set in the future, not too close yet not too far), and is a non-violent progression. Not all rebellions or revolutions need to involve violence: perhaps just a (violent) change in consciousness. Marcuse’s idea (1967) was that to break with present realities and move toward utopia requires “the simple refusal to take part in the blessings of the “affluent society.”

Refusing the affluence that could easily be theirs led to positive change. Looking at great men and women who made a difference in history, there is a commonality among them: they turned down, or repressed their personal desires for many other things. They were focused, driven, and would not be distracted by other options to complete their goals. This is what it would take to create my utopia.

“If it is the future you seek, then I tell you that you must come to it with empty hands. You must come to it alone, and naked, as a child comes into the world, into his future, without any past, without any property, wholly dependent on other people for his life. You cannot take what you have not given, and you must give yourself. You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.” (LeGuin, 1974, p.301)

The second point made in the study of the Kibbutzim was that they were united by experiences together. It is very rare for more than one generation to have the same driving force (as circumstances change, and the people themselves change) which is why very few utopias can last more than one generation.

I do not expect my utopia to continue, for their children will need to take into their own hands their future and the kind of utopia it becomes. By definition, an education in a utopia must create this. By letting go, I release them to have the power to succeed or fail, while hoping to God they fare well, and learn from any mistakes along the way.  

While fear is a very powerful uniting experience, and useful in creating utopias (for example, the graphic novel, Watchman), it is not the basis that I want driving my utopia. Suffering is also a powerful unifying experience, bringing us together in a much deeper unity than fear—fear is grasping at straws, whereas suffering together creates a brotherhood that is difficult to break. But I would not wish suffering on anyone for a utopia, even if it brings about good results.

 “It is our suffering that brings us together. It is not love. Love does not obey the mind, and turns to hate when forced. The bond that binds us is beyond choice. We are brothers. In pain, which each of us must suffer alone, in hunger, in poverty, I hope, we know our brotherhood. You have nothing, you possess nothing, you own nothing. You are free. All you have is what you are and what you give.” (LeGuin, 2003, p. 300)

Suffering as a motive is very closely related to brotherhood, a “twin” of what will be my utopia’s driving force. Brotherhood is the most well-known and common driving force for utopias—it was foundational in the beginning of our own nation. It is the picture of moving forward, hand-in-hand, toward a utopia.

In the article on the Kibbutz, it describes brotherhood as passion for community, or “Communitas.” Communitas produces this passion, and is "an emotionally powerful social experience consisting of primordial and reciprocal identifications among the members of a small social group…A family-type community, between twelve and seventeen young men and women would sit together every evening after work...and exchange impressions and opinions...longing of each for his neighbor, a desire to sit together until late at night." (Spiro, 2004, p. 564-5) This is what I want in my utopia.

But brotherhood alone often forgets the personal sacrifice required to make any community, let alone a utopia, work. Therefore, in my utopia, the “twin” of brotherhood is motherhood. The picture for this driving force is of a mother carrying her child into utopia. The suffering component comes in the sacrifice that is given for the betterment of the next generation.

This final part noted in the Kibbutz article is the “how” of the day-to-day running a utopia. http://www.lovolution.net/MainPages/artWorks/DesignUtopia/DesignUtopia.htm has a great list of questions to ask if you would like to create your own utopia, including the basic structure, goals and values, education, politics, relationships, religion, and jails.

While smaller utopias are easier, for it to be a true utopia, I believe it has to be for everyone. My utopia would be global, for how can you call someone your brother if you allow for one to receive benefits, and the next one not to. The basic physical structure of my utopia is similar to the garden-like state of Herland, which was carefully cultivated with lots of fruit trees and nuts growing everywhere, making the best use of the space. They were vegetarian because it made the best use of what they had, but I will not force my ideas on everyone, anyone is free to have meat—as long as they raise it themselves, taking complete responsibility from start to finish.

The duty of each member within this utopia is to pull their own share. This does not mean that each person is required to produce the same amount, but that each gives the full amount of effort. This takes the pressure off performance and doing and allows one to focus on character and being. “The worker is not a citizen because he works, but works because he is a citizen.” (Bellamy, 2003, p.122).

The goal is utopia—the perfect place for everyone. Hopefully everyone has bought into this goal. If not, and it gets really bad, you can skip to the “jail” section to see what happens. The values already noted are motherhood and brotherhood, but specifically, integrity (being real and trustworthy), commitment (diligent, consistent, finishing what you start), kindness (compassion, putting others first, helping, friendly), excellence (doing your best no matter who is looking or how “small” the job), being passionate (know what you want and go after it), curiosity (desire to learn and know more), and generosity (using money/ time wisely to give it away wisely).

The amount of children a family had would not be limited by rules in my utopia, because (hopefully) through the education each individual would take responsibility for the children they bore. Children would go into the woods and learn naturally, at home they would “See books lying about, manage to read by the time they are four years old” (Morris, 2004, p.25), and pick up languages naturally from their foreign peers. This is idealistic, but I like the more natural approach. 

I also liked the idea of education divided into ages, by Robert Owen in “The Book of the New Moral World.” He has 0-5 year olds getting good food and “ training to think, speak, and act rationally,” 5-10 year olds in “exercises that consist in that which will be permanently useful…characters formed physically, intellectually, morally, and practically.” From 10-15, 10-12 year olds are helping the younger class, and 13-15 year olds are “engaged in acquiring a knowledge of principles and practices of the more advanced useful arts of life…to produce, prepare, and execute whatever society requires.”

By 15-20, they can tell what each person is best at/likes to do, and so it is “training and educating to have all his faculties and powers cultivated.” From 20-25, is “the highest and most experienced class of producers and instructors.” After 25 years of age, they only work if they want to. From 25-30 they are basically just preserving the work, and then doing what they find enjoyable to do.

From ages 30-40, they “govern the home department, and 40-60 year olds are in charge of external or foreign arrangements…attending to visitors from other establishments…circumscribe the world in their travels.” (Utopia Reader, 1999, p. 207-219) Owen tried out his experiment in the New Harmony community in Indiana. This is lifelong learning and responsibility, which are two very important pieces of my utopia.

One utopia I read had a progression from capitalism into socialism. Socialism in history has not worked, often because it does not reward responsibility or character, and those lessons from history must be dually noted and brought into the equation, but I like the idea in general.

In Looking Backward, the work is done by whoever wants to do it. If there is a job that no one wants to do, then fewer hours are needed. They make all jobs equally attractive by increasing/decreasing the hours and benefits. For example, if everyone wanted to be a doctor, then the normal doctor working day would be 8 hours. But if no one wanted to be a lawyer, then you would only need to work 4 hours a day at the lawyer job, making it more desirable.

Jobs are like serving in the military: everyone does it from 21-45. From 21-24 they do the “common labor,” first of all, to get the experience, and second of all, because someone has to do it. This teaches them discipline, and then between 24-30 they can specialize if they would like to, finishing up when they are 45, and then only working if they chose to, or for the good of the community.

Technology makes sure to consider environment and lasting effects of the decisions made in science and technology. For example, Red Mars has the situation where the longevity “treatment” is available, but only to a few. Any technology must be beneficial and available for all. If the utopian world cannot sustain everyone having it, then they should not introduce it, for it creates disunity. This would be a question of the “few” repressing, or sacrificing their ability/freedom for the sake of equality and community.

Most utopias are anti-marriage because marriage is exclusive and into the realm of “mine” and “not mine.” Part of what makes love as powerful as it is, is the exclusivity that it holds. Hopefully the value of commitment would hold together relationships during difficulties where it often seems easier to just leave, rather than having a complex set of rules.

Religion in the utopia is what pragmatically works, and thus freely chosen. There is still the question of what to do with those who just won’t listen—the real proof in any utopia is in how they treat the resistors. Instead of jail, In my utopia, the focus is rehabilitation balanced with restitution, where they need to make right what they did wrong, working with the community to come to the conclusion of rehabilitation naturally. Taking personal responsibility is part of the education of anyone, criminal or not. This takes a lot more work, but brings about the most amount of closure. If this help is refused, then isolation for the protection of the general populous might be a last resort. How depressing to include that in an utopia.

Utopia requires an outward and inward change from the present—happening simultaneously—balancing personal freedom and equality as they distance themselves from the past, are united in motherhood/brotherhood, and find pragmatic solutions. Like Frankenstein, this utopia is unpolished and contains many gaps, but is full of heart, desire, and hope for something better. “But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” –W.B.Yeats

 

3.      God-Sized Whole

You have a God-hole inside you. This capacity that is so beautiful and deep that it makes me cry to think it isn’t being used. I shouldn’t play favorites, but I have. And you are mine. Many of my arguments with God have been about you. Why couldn’t He touch you and make everything fit? And I was mad at you too. Why can’t you just turn and look on His beautiful face? Lay it all down and walk away. Walk away and into the Greatness.

I don’t know what is going on in your life. But I know that when things click with you and God, everyone will see it. The blast will shoot out in all directions and people will stop and look at the light and wonder. And I will see you glow in His brilliance and in His glory. I will see His face shine out from your eyes. I don’t know how this will happen, but I know it won’t be because of me. And though I would gladly spend my whole life trying, there are some places that only you and God can tread, and I am left behind.

I made many deals with God…that I would never question Him as long as He promised that one day you see. But God doesn’t make deals. Sometimes He is the most silent on the things that are closest to our hearts. But I know that one day, I will hear from a friend of a friend a story about you. And I will know it has happened. And I will be happy.

 

I asked God how He could let me love you so deeply, when He knew we couldn’t be together. He said that love was never wasted. Maybe all of my love for you was nothing more than to show you a little bit of how much God loves you. I haven’t been a very faithful reflection of God’s love, but I know you have seen pieces of Him through me, and I pray you will see more and more of Him until the memory of me is shattered and all that is left is Him and His consuming love for you.

 

4.      Homosexuality

I was 12 years old, sitting in the back of the church van when I overheard the conversation: ”Well, you know they are gay—and I don’t mean happy.” Something hit my heart and I realized there was a world that I didn’t know existed. My knowledge of homosexuality grew over the next couple of years, mostly through conversations overheard, and mean-spirited jokes. Then the rumor that a neighbor was gay. A friend of a friend. Then my friend.

I was thrown into confusion. What should I do? What was my responsibility? How could I help? I just wanted to give him a hug and let him let it out. While I listened to a friend share her struggle, thoughts scrambled around my head: “How could this be? How did she allow this to get like it is? It is wrong—I need to say it is wrong! But she know, she knows.” But as I sat and listened, those thoughts got more distant.

I struggled in myself. I saw the pain so strongly. I saw the attempts to do better and the condemning failure and guilt that permanently crippled. I wrestled with questions like “When does the person go from being tempted with homosexual thoughts, to being gay? When does the liar stop being a liar? When he stops lying? So do you stop being gay when you stop gay-ing? Or what about the prostitute? Is she no longer a prostitute when her shift ends? Or when she gets a new job?”

I studied all the Bible verses. I tried to explain them away. I fought with God. In the people I knew, homosexuality was not something they chose. They did not sit down and say “I want to be attracted to the same sex.” On the contrary. It was something they constantly fought and tried to get away from. One friend finally stopped fighting. Then I had more questions “If you say you are gay, does that mean you have given up? You are not going to struggle anymore? You are embracing your sin and saying that that is who you are? Your identity?”

That friend looked me in the eye and said “Do you think I want this? This…thing that that makes me hide who I am from those I love the most? Do you think I would choose something everyone hates—for the heck of it? No, I am doing the best I can with what I have been given.”

It came down to the question of do I believe that God permits temptations/sins that cannot be

overcome? Can I look someone in the face, someone who says they are gay and has gone through more pain and trouble and confusion and struggle than I can imagine, and say that God won't allow sin that cannot be defeated? I don’t know. But I can tell them they can be forgiven and made new. Clean. And for that moment, that is enough.

Really, I was asking God “Who are you?” I wanted to know Him and I wanted to know that He was good. And that no one is doomed. That somewhere, there is always a chance. That there is always an option not to sin. Somewhere. At one church service I finally heard something that helped. And the pastor didn’t quote Judges. Or Exodus, or 1 Corinthians. He simply said “Jesus wasn’t afraid to forgive the prostitute. He also wasn’t afraid to tell her to go and sin no more.” That’s where it’s at.

My friends know what is right and wrong. It doesn’t need to be stated again. But what needs to be remembered is that hope is there, because forgiveness is always there, and is always beautiful. And Someone willing to forgive all the time also gains the power to say what is wrong and needs to be forgiven.

And it doesn’t make the struggle go away. Maybe one day it will, but maybe it won’t. And maybe one day I will understand it more, and maybe I won’t. But I am learning. And I love my friends—gay and straight. All of them. I have my struggles and they have theirs. And we still love each other. Because the Bible tells me so.

I don’t want my little brother to learn about homosexuality through crass jokes made by the boys behind the church. I don’t want him to be one of those making the jokes. I want him to be the one who reaches out to the new boy with the pink shirt. And the one who reaches out to the one with the blue shirt. I want him to know that God forgives, and God loves. I want him to know that “Jesus wasn’t afraid to forgive the prostitute. He also wasn’t afraid to tell her to go and sin no more.”

I want him to know that it is okay to not have all the answers and to not understand everything, but to trust that God is still good. I want him to have gay friends and straight friends and lying friends and stealing friends and friends that sleep around—because that is life, and you cannot hide from it. But I also want him to know God and be broken by the sin and the pain, in his own life and in those around him and desire to be clean and forgiven and to be transformed into the image of Christ. I want him to know that Jesus is the only answer for him, those struggling with homosexuality, and for the world.

 

5.      67% Normal

“You are 67% normal” says the Facebook test.  Apparently, not everyone agrees with me that life as we know it would be better with ice cream.  I laugh when I say this now, but it wasn’t always like that. I used to want to score 100. There was a way that things were supposed to be done, and I was going to follow that plan. And then God laughed.

Most of us have heard of “the plan:” Go to school. Get good grades. Turn 18. Go to college and four years later graduate and feel really good about it being over. It didn’t work that way for me. In fact, it didn’t work that way for most of us. Life happens. You learn things. The plan changes. Whoopi Goldberg said, “Normal is nothing more than a cycle on the washing machine.”

After nine years, five different colleges in two different countries, with various credits in various subjects all over the board, I went to IUPUI to finish. To write a new definition of normal that fit me. A finisher. An achiever of my objectives. A definition that says it is normal for me to attain my goals and celebrate a job well done.

Like all good lessons in life, they are meant to be applied liberally and eaten with ice cream. My journey required learning that being 67% normal was just a number, and that I was in charge of writing my own definition of normal. The challenge for us all is to take the definitions we have written about ourselves, about what our normal is, and bring it into the world with us.

Someone told me that if it is worth doing, it is worth celebrating. We have done it, and so now let us celebrate. Life doesn’t always give us opportunities to stop and enjoy what we have done—it is a decision we have to make to take the time to do. But right now we have our moment with Pomp and Circumstance. Remember it, treasure it, repeat it. Often.

 

6.      Colors

Every time I go to Living Stones I feel like I need just as long afterwards to process everything. Or at least write something down. I am getting used to life in Brazil with a boyfriend in the USA. It isn’t like I’ve ever tried to portray myself as a desperate single girl, but you should see the way most of the people I know congratulate me. You would think I won the lottery rather than got a boyfriend from their smiles, hugs, and words. It is sweet.

It is interesting to see how the kids respond. For as much as Brazil says it isn’t racist, there is still some thoughts and feelings there. I can feel them. But they haven’t learned how to hide anything in Cajueiro Claro. When I showed them his picture today, someone said, “Why is he so black?” to which the other kid said, “He is the same color as you.”

Edivaldo, the darkest boy, didn’t say anything but gave me an extra hug when we were done. It said something. Something like “hmmm, maybe you really do love us.” Funny how sometimes I feel they still doubt it sometimes. Funny the things that prove my love. Something like “you picked him when you could have picked any color you wanted. Maybe you really do love my color too.” I do. 

How is color such a big deal? Take away the right and wrong of it, and just wonder…how? I understand how beauty and ugly is. Even though I still feel guilty when I notice myself pulling towards the beautiful and away from the ugly. Karine said, “Rachel, if he were fat and white you wouldn’t have dated him.” And this. Is. Probably. true.

*

When did we start calling people colors instead of Nationalities? I am "Proud to be an American," and I know many people have worked long and hard to be called that, but isn't it just lazy? What about where you came from before (except Native Americans)?

Call me German, not white. And if you must call me a color, get a paint swatch to figure out what color I am because I've seen white paper, white shirts, white shoes...and I am not white.

We have forgotten how to be creative. Or maybe, we have forgotten to figure out who we are. I don't relate to being German: beer, chocolate, snow, WW1 and WW2--no thank you please. I don't know much more about Germany than that. And that is a shame. I haven't tried.

I was watching "Lincoln" with my black boyfriend, thinking, "Man, this is so applicable to us." But he isn't black--he is Jamaican. He was born in Jamaica. For him, it was a conscious choice: he came to America when he was 6 and the children laughed at his accent. So he lost it, and embraced all that was called being American. He cried when his sisters told him he was still Jamaican. He turned to me in the movie and said, "This is our history."

He identifies with American culture--he chose it--whereas I have always looked for a way out. I never have culture shock leaving the country: but always have counter-culture shock when returning. So the American-trying-not-to-be and the non-American-trying-to-be find a middle ground and begin to create their own culture. And don't call it gray.

 

7.      Silence

“He who doesn’t understand your silence will probably never understand your words.” Elbert Hubbard

Two hours of silence.  As the time inched closer to begin my experiment, my ears felt they had to consume as much music as possible. Every song sounded sweeter, as I passed the restaurant, the live music made me pause. It is like a hunger, before I’ve even started.

My roommate asked me why I didn’t leave for my experiment. Because I wanted to eat, I told her, and that would require talking, communicating. And people just don’t get my…ideas when I explained them. No music, no movies, no interactions, no texting. Why are you doing this again? My boyfriend asks. Because it was on my bucket list. Because every once in a while, I still envy those nuns and monks away in their towers who have mastered silence. Because I want to know I can.

Thirty hours of silence, one of my goals to do when I am 30. Two hours into it and I laugh (silently) because I don’t feel like I’ve stopped talking—I sure haven’t stopped in my head. Song after song is being sung up there. I wonder how many hours until I am really silent? Is it even possible? I talk to myself a lot. And sing to myself even more. Now I am whispering/mouthing words as I write. Does that count? Silence is for listening. I am not listening yet.

Wikipedia says “Silence is the lack of audible sound, the word silence can also refer to any absence of communication. Silence is also used as total communication, in reference to non-verbal communication and spiritual connection.”

I make noise when I wake up, rolling over and stretching. Noise is startling. I am hungry for noise. In three separate dreams, I spoke and felt the failure: in one was I was sleeping in the trash dump with the children and watching the worms climb back into my matrices, another was getting ready to return to Brazil and needing to say goodbye, and lastly, shopping and having lost my wallet.

I am beginning to wonder if the voices in my head will ever quit. I’m creative enough, full enough to keep feeding them for years, without new material. How long until they wind down? Silence and accomplishment don’t go together. I lay in my bed doing nothing, hoping my thoughts will dry out and leave me alone. I want silence within. How long has it been?

Silence is emptying of sound, thought, activity. Going through your brain and sorting everything into its place until you stop and say—good, it is time to rest. Silence is a part of simplicity, a cleansing return to basics, child-likeness. And I yearn for it. I know my great need for silence, as does God. He made all these rules for the Sabbath. He led by example by resting on the 7^th day—one day of not creating.

I make lists so I can make peace with the nagging voices in my head that say I am going to forget something, I am going to let someone down, I am going to screw something up. I work hard to be organized to give myself space for the silence of simplicity. But often I get stopped on my way. I forget the end result and get tied up in the project. I get overwhelmed without space for silence.

I think a true silent retreat requires leaving, someplace alone and simple. And includes fasting: empty of people, food, things. I once put myself into solitary confinement. It was a point where I was broken, physically, mentally, emotionally. I just didn’t want to go on until I’d heard from God. It was a small room with a bed, chair, and bathroom. I brought paper, pencil, Bible, and change of clothes. I was left completely alone.

First I just slept until I could sleep no more. Time crept by, only noted by the big window that I sat next to and watched because it was the only thing to see. I fell into a routine of sitting, reading, writing, sleeping, praying, and showering. Whenever I got tired of one thing, I’d do another. It was healing. And I was starving. After a little less than 3 full days, I went out for food and returned to life. Sometimes you just need to know when you are broken and need to stop.

Sixteen hours of silence (including a good nights’ sleep) and I am starting to feel it. My mind slowing down. Enjoying the silence. Feeling less anxious and forgetting all the things I should be doing and just being. Silence and simplicity kiss and the whole world is right again.

“Silence is full of noise…but we have become deaf to this thundering silence. But still more difficult than getting rid of that surrounding din is the achievement of inner silence, a silence of the heart which goes beyond every man. It makes you wonder if the diversion we look for in the many things outside us might not be an attempt to avoid a confrontation with what is inside.”

“But whenever you do come upon this silence, it seems as though you have received a gift. The promise of this silence is that new life can be born. Then you realize you can do many things, but it isn’t necessary. It is the silence of the “poor in spirit” where you learn to see your life in its proper perspectives.”

“Deep silence leads us to suspect that, in the first place, prayer is acceptance. A man who prays is a man standing with his hands open to the world. He trusts that the world holds God’s secret within it, and he expects that secret to be shown to him. Praying means being constantly ready to let go of your certainty and to move on further than where you now are. This is why praying demands poverty, that is, the readiness to live a life in which you have nothing to lose so that you always begin afresh.” Henri Nouwen

I am going to sleep after 27 hours of silence. When I wake up, I will get dressed and begin my day as if silence never ruled. The awkward hanging up because I can’t answer my phone. The time I thought something funny and stopped mid-laugh. But I learned what I wanted to know: I can do silence. I can be comfortable in my own skin. And it takes a while to detox, but then things seem clearer and more focused, and I appreciate that. And somehow, silence always seems a little closer to God.

“He who does not know to be silent will not know how to speak.” Ausonius

 

8.      Trees

This Easter season I printed out Ann Voskamp’s “Trail to the Tree” Devotional. It is free on her site www.aholyexperience.com and I highly recommend it. I thought it was going to go through the Bible and point out all the trees until it came to the Good Friday Tree. It didn’t, so I figured I would, since it was such a good idea.

Trees were created on the 3^th day: right after the ground and before the stars. Two trees were so special they got capital names: one was called “Life” and the other “Knowledge of Good and Evil” (rather long, but still). These trees had powers in their fruit. Sounds like the beginning of a good story. Ehh, not so good. You know what happened.

Then trees were used for hiding. Hiding from God, hiding from nakedness. Not used for shade, for sustenance, but for cowardice. Leaves: the first underwear. Wasn’t our finest hour as humans. And so those two trees were guarded by an angel with a big sword, and not for us. But not forever: the tree of life returns…in heaven (Rev. 22:1-2).

Trees are cut and used to make sacrifices. Trees get cut and built into an ark. They were flooded but seeds survived. Then the father of nations, Abraham. He liked trees. Sitting under them, at least. And planting them (Gen. 21:33). I think that is a beautiful part of calling on God. Plant a tree first. Why aren’t there any sermons about that?

Jacob used trees to trick his uncle (Gen. 30:37), and all the trees of Egypt got stripped in the 10 plagues. For the Israelites, there were all kinds of rules regarding the trees when going into the promised land, and, of course, one out of every 10 pieces of fruit went to God. Does sharing with my sister count?

In Judges, a particularly mixed up and ugly part of Israel’s history, a bunch of brothers get killed by a half-brother and there is a parable about trees (Judges 9—I studied all the references for trees. I don’t know this off the top of my head). The first king of Israel also liked sitting under trees, and was then buried under one, after he lost his head (1 Sam. 31:13). King David’s son, Absalom, got his hair stuck in a tree and was dangling until he was stabbed to death (2 Sam. 18:9). Depressing.

Trees were used in decorating the temple Solomon built (1 Kings 6:32—palm trees, specifically), and will also be in the future temple in heaven (Eze. 41:18). Which leads me to the point: God’s favorite tree is the palm tree. So is mine. Palm trees are the specific type of tree mentioned most in the Bible. (Including as a sexual innuendo in Song of Solomon).

Throughout the rest of the Old Testament, trees are used as a symbol and physical reminder of God’s blessing and prosperity (Ps. 37:35), and the lack thereof, or removal of trees as a punishment (2 Kings 3:19). In Proverbs, four things are like a tree of life: wisdom (3:18), results of righteousness (11:30), hope fulfilled (13:12), and a healing tongue (15:4). Nebuchadnezzar had a dream that Daniel explained about a tree. Sad ending: it gets chopped down.

Then the New Testament and Jesus. He compares people to trees and our actions to their fruit (Matt. 7:17). Luke 13 has his story about a man who planted a fig tree: if there are no figs, what will he do? We find out what Jesus did to a non-fig fig tree: withered it (Mt. 21:9). I’d rather have the “move mountains” option rather than “tree withering” if given the choice with my faith.

There is the funny story of the trees that walked (Mt. 8:24), that always makes me wonder why Jesus had to heal him twice. In a traditional American folktale called “The Tale of the Three Trees” there are three trees cut down and made into a manger, a fishing boat, and a cross. As pretty as the tale is, the manger was probably made out of stone. But I will give you the other two.

Jesus was a carpenter during that whole “quiet time” of his life from age 12-30. He probably spent more time with trees than with people. Makes me wonder what he was thinking. “I am God…thou art a piece of wood…become a table!”

Galatians 3:13 makes it clear that you aren’t supposed to get yourself crucified. But there was a plan for this tree/hanging/crucifixion since before time began. And while I can’t call this quick review of the 200+ times the word “tree” is used in the Bible “Trail to the Tree,” this is following through to that culminating tree.

I pause, as scenes from “Passion of Christ” come racing through my mind. I want to shut them out and skip to Sunday. But the trail to the tree hasn’t stopped. Jesus died and He rose. He sent His Holy Spirit to live and guide all those who are His, I am grafted into that “tree” (Rom. 11:24). And don’t forget, I’m still looking forward to meeting that tree called “Life.”

 

9.      Love

My roommate said love was choosing to do the things listed in 1 Corinthians 13…patient, kind…loving her students, for example. It might not have any emotion attached to it—sometimes there was, sometimes it followed. But it was choosing to validate someone else and say they were worth it, worth loving. She also told me to quit asking hard questions. My neighbor said love was sacrifice, trust, and respect.

“Love” and “in love” can be two different words. I am thinking about “love” because I feel “in love.” I once made a list of how I knew I was “in love,” like listening to love songs that told my story. Like wanting him to show up and see what a good job I am doing, or carrying on conversations with him in my head. Wanting to share everything with him, and whenever I am out, subconsciously looking for him.

Five things I have learned about love:

1. Everyone thinks of something different when they hear the word "Love." We are constantly growing into and from our definition of love.

2. You can't kill, force, or control love. You can submit it. give it back or let it go. Love always involves letting go of your expectations. Letting go of the person. Letting go of your personal rights and desires.

3. Love is never wasted. It transforms the average into the best.

4. Love is something that both happens to you and you choose. the mixture of which is which that is changing, fluid, and fluctuates.

5. Love is not attached to actions. I don't love BECAUSE of what you do. If I did, then you could do something I didn't like and I could stop loving you. But at the same time, love will lead to actions, because that is what love is. (This nice little paradox is sort of like faith and works in the book of James.)

As soon as I switch my thoughts from being “in love” to “love” I realize what a selfish beast I am. How I make it all about me. “Life is Beautiful” was the best movie portrayal of love I’ve ever seen. After watching it I realized I’ve never really loved. Not really. I asked another friend what love was and he said “sacrifice and altruism.”

Philosophers like Ayn Rand have an egoism theory—that in reality, all we do is some way related to getting something out of it. That there is no such thing as altruism. Even jumping in a lake and saving someone is egocentric because we would have felt bad if we had let them drown, and we wanted to feel good about saving them. Most of my life is lived that way. I think there are 3 times in my life where I did something self-lessly, and I analyzed them so much that it ruined that. My motives are always infected with me-ness.

“The rule for all of us is perfectly simple. Do not waste time bothering whether you ‘love’ your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him. If you injure someone you dislike, you will find yourself disliking him more.” –C.S.Lewis

Moving from emotion to action. Love is doing what is best for the other. Not expecting them to fill me or make me feel special. Not putting them in a place that only God should fill. This is a whole new way to live.

How can one be sure it is love? Perhaps it isn’t. Perhaps I have never really known love. But if I am wrong, it is only because of ignorance of a greater love. I believe it is love because  it is patient. I don't have to tell you about it. And you don't have to love me back. It doesn't have expectations, and it doesn't call attention to itself. It is always present, but it doesn't yell. It doesn't go away, and everything else fades in its presence. It makes other parts of my life beautiful. It is not in a rush--it knows that if this is the real thing, I have a lifetime to discover it. And it doesn't need to be fed. It feeds me and fills me to satisfaction.

 

10.  Abundance

Life is too short to spend it fighting against things. I don’t want to survive, I want to thrive. I want the life more abundantly that Jesus died to give me. Life is too big for me if I only know what I am not—I want to know what I am. I am not anti-poverty. I am pro-abundance. I am not working to end scarcity, I am dancing to prove beauty and plenty.

The poor will always be with us, so let’s introduce ourselves and pull up a chair to listen. Because stories are going to be told and no one will go home the same. For everyone who needs a piece of bread, there is someone who needs to be able to give that piece of bread to them. There is a great big God out there, and He is reflected in a thousand different ways by the thousand different people. Let me see His image in you.

 

11.  I just can’t finish, because I know the best papers are still in my head, waiting to be written…