Reminiscing Pre-Socratic

Last Christmas, I read Philosophy books. It's not weird. Even if it is, I refuse to believe that.
Yet, flipping through an old notebook, I'm excited by the quotes I kept. So, for the sake of no one but me, let me share them.

Heraclitus:  "Good and bad are the same... upward, downward, the way is one and the same."
    
One cool thing he said though was that there is no being, only becoming. Nothing is actualized to use Aristotelean language. Is that not the Christian journey on earth? We are always becoming more like Christ, but we are never like Christ. Somehow, I find that reassuring.

However, I have one last beautiful thought. Apparently, as this textbook stated, Thessalonians were famous for wisdom (how does that affect our reading of Scripture?), especially in the city of Larisa.  My namesake. I guess I have a high standard to live up to.

Redeeming Eve

Let's blame it on the class on the Theology of Women in Ministry class. Or we could blame it on my fascination with Dr. Sarah Sumner's book Men and Women in the Church and my recent pseudo-theological musings on Eve's body and my own.  Or, we could even say that it's Prof. Becker's heavy emphasis on the start of Genesis in our class.

Or we could be honest: I'm fighting everything I know. At first it was Arminianism. Then, it was slow willingness to give into the Reformers, and revoke my Catholic ideologies. And now, its my understanding of headship.

And it's funny. I didn't even know what headship meant 2 years ago. I didn't accept it until a year ago, sitting in class, I decided I liked the idea of guys being charge — as long as my input was included. Yet, I spend the last few moments of my free time reading Genesis 1-3, debating if I could believe anything either side fed me.

At one point, I was going to wax eloquently about my findings. About real complementariness in men and women while pointing out that we are so skewed in what we're thought from liberals and conservatives. But eloquence is something that quickly fades when sleep deprivation kicks in, so forgive me for being crass, but I'm bullet pointing it.

- Gen 1:27: Man and Woman were both created. Mankind was created in God's image. It doesn't say man and woman each were created in God's image, and it certainly doesn't say that men only are the image of God. It says mankind. It speaks to our non-gender specific qualities, i.e., not biology and hormones.
- Gen 1:28–30: God lays out everything before Adam AND Eve and gives THEM authority. The commissions are, once again, to mankind and not a man. They are asked to make babies and have authority over the earth. Eve was not asked to raise children why her husband brought home a paycheck, but they, together, were commanded to have a family and be in leadership over creation. It says nothing about the dynamic of their relationship, only that they both held responsibility for it.
-Gen 2:15–17: Adam was given the commands about the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Not Eve. Just Adam. Why does that matter? Well, we don't know how Eve knows. Either her husband informed her or God did. The text doesn't tell us, and anything that says otherwise is speculation.
-Gen 2:23: Adam valued Eve. He loved her. He saw worth in her. He saw intimate connection between them. He took credit for her. He claimed her as her own.
   Side note: Do we treat other human beings like that? It's not that he was man and she was woman that created this kind of bond, it was their joint humanity. I share humanity with... what you know, all other humans. Do I see intrinsic value in them?  I should. Everyone is worthy of not only God's love, but mine. Granted the first is a lot better and a lot more consistent, but everyone deserves love from everyone else.
-Gen 2:24: This passage doesn't say that woman gives up everything she has in fulfillment of God's will for her husband. It says men leave their families and CLING to their wives. At the very least, we have to say that the Bible doesn't make Eve a helpless husband hunter. Women aren't told at all in Scripture that their lifelong fulfillment is to find a husband. Who's "holding fast" in the passage?  Don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that women aren't called to give up things or that they can be loose with their husbands. All I am saying is that the onus in this passage is on what the man does.
Gen 2:24b: One flesh. Can I just point out something here that we skip? One flesh is not one person being better than the other. One flesh isn't equality with each other either. One flesh is one flesh.
   Story time: I went to a wedding once where the unity candle wouldn't light. I thought it was hilarious. The couple stood on stage a little nervous and flustered that everything wasn't going smoothly. This candle would not light. So the groom, in an attempt to keep things going, moved his candle into the center, allowing his candle to be their candle. The bride proceeded to push his candle out, place hers in the middle, smile and blow his out.
  Moral of the Story: That's how we view 'one flesh.' Its like Battle Royale between man and wife over who has authority and power. That's not biblical. Biblical marriage: one flesh. Husband and wife are united so that they, together, are one entity. I'm not sure how that works in light of 2 people's obviously distinct persons, but I know that one flesh means one. Not one, and a lower one. It means one! How is Christ both fully human and fully God? I don't know. It doesn't make any sense, but I know its true. How can husband and wife be one flesh when they are two people? I don't know, but I do know it means that the question isn't about power and authority.
Gen 3:1: I have quite the commentary going here. Sorry, world that isn't reading this. I need to say it for my own sanity's sake. The serpent was crafty. He knew how to pry on weakness. Thus, he knew that Adam heard from God the command not to eat of the tree. At the very least, he knew Adam heard it first. So he talks to Eve. He could have talked to Adam. But he didn't. I'm not sure the full ramifications of that thought, but its a fact. The serpent chose Eve.
Gen 3:2: Eve corrects, from a seemingly neutral posture, that the serpent got it wrong. They can eat from most trees. He said none.
Gen 3:3: She adds a phrase. Was Eve lying? Not necessarily. We don't know if she knew it right. We don't know. That's all we've got. We can't blame her with information we don't have. All we know, is that she answered him incorrectly.
  And here's a big cavaet: Eve had never dealt with deception before. How was she to know the intention of the serpent? Maybe he was just curious? Maybe it was all really weird to her. Maybe, she frequently told the animals about God. Who knows. We don't. What we know is the facts. Eve did not blankly accept his statement, and she didn't read it as deceptive. She corrected him, but got some facts wrong. Maybe she was just like the Pharisees and adding a protective bubble around truth. Maybe she honestly thought she couldn't touch the tree. (Maybe she really couldn't). Or, maybe she added it. We don't know.
Gen 3:6a: Eve did three things. She thought about her stomach, her senses. She thought about beauty. She thought about her intellect. Eve thought about herself. She didn't think about God. Sin happens when we start thinking about bettering ourselves more than following God. I'm sorry, Eve, but redeeming you doesn't mean denying your sin. You knew you couldn't have it, and you did. You sinned.  My job isn't to make it so you didn't sin, but to give you credit along the way. You're not as bad as Tertullian said.
Gen 3:6b: Well, Eve shared! Maybe give a point for not being so greedy that she only wanted to have all the wisdom. Maybe Eve understood being one flesh meant that they both deserved all the good things she saw in the fruit. Just a thought about one flesh really quickly.
Gen 3:6b: This is a big point. Adam was there! He was with her. Maybe, and totally possible with my ridiculously crass exegesis of this, with means something other than right next to. But, Im rolling with this. Adam was with her. He didn't speak up. He didn't say, "Lovely wife, but I think you're misquoting God." He doesn't say, "No thanks, God told me not to eat that fruit." He is passive. I think if we read this passage and say Eve usurped power and that was their sin, I think you're wrong. The problem was Adam's passivity, and not because he was male. No one, not even a submissive wife, is allowed to let sin happen to them knowingly. He was still responsible for himself. If he was right there, he should have spoken up for both of them for the sake of avoiding sin. He wasn't right there, he at least could have rejected the fruit. Instead, Adam was passive.

So what does that have to do with headship? To be honest, I don't know. Men and women were created different, and they are, in fact, different. But how much of Genesis 1-3 is about headship and how much of it is about humanity?
And I know I'm talking like an egalitarian and it horrifies me, because I refuse to be that. But, if I'm really honest with you, I don't think Eve was any less than Adam. I don't think she was given any less responsibility in the Garden. I don't think she had to submit to Adam any more than he submitted to her. I just don't see it.
Men and women are different. Physically, we complement each other. My guess is, we do so emotionally and spiritually as well. But we're equal. We all have different ways of life and things that we are called to do. Do those things follow gender lines? I don't know. Am I allowed to be intelligent and strong as a woman? Yes. At the very least, I'm happy to try to be a Proverbs 31 woman. But before you say I've gone fundamentalist on you, let me remind you that she lifted weights. She made business deals. I'm okay on with doing that.
So, Eve, here's my redemption for you: God loved you. So did Adam. God trusted you to be in leadership over all the earth... just like he did for your husband. You are worth more than doing laundry.

False Hopes for Failure

I like to feel like a failure. I have a wonderful routine for those days of self-pity where I sit in pajamas I have owned since I was fifteen, drinking coffee despite the late hour. I scroll through other's music, noting the lack of my own collection, trying to find the perfect series of songs that will resonate with my hatred of self; reminding me that I really am not worth as much as I claim. A reminder that someone else feels just as useless.

And sitting on my little sofa, in the box I call my room, I sing along to a tune from the alcoholic days of an apostate guitarist rambling on about how God has forsaken him, or at least never shown up, leaving his still totally depraved but without an ounce of hope left.

And its easy. Life is easy when you have no ambition. When you feel like you've crumbled. Its at that point that you stop trying. That you rest in your brokenness and rejoice in the loss of all goals and desires.

I was stuck in an ice storm in Indianapolis one Christmas Eve. After breaking an axle when my car merged with curb, I was sure that my future was doomed to be lived in an isolated hotel room. I would never leave, I thought, devolving into an unintelligible brute, living on Cheetos and cheap hotel coffee. Clearly, one night in ice must produce a life of failure and confinement in a hotel in a city so close to home.

You see, I like to think the worst. I call it optimistic pessimism: if you always think everything is going to fall apart, you will never be disappointed.

Yet, somewhere near the fifth repeat of "In Stitches" by David Bazan, I realize my error. I am not failure; I am a child of God. I am redeemed, and restored to right relationship with God. I will stumble a thousand times, but I will always have Christ to lift me back up, dust the dirt off my shoulders and lead me back in the way of righteousness.

I spent about a week crying about my depravity. I told my best friends and bosses that I felt like my life was falling apart. I was full of pride. My family was as dysfunctional as always. I was getting sick. The girls on my floor didn't love me. And certainly, no man ever would. Nothing was the way I dreamed it would be when I was 15.  I thought I would be married by 20, have children at 23 and a Ph.D. by 30. Yet, I couldn't even accomplish getting a coffee date with a girl on my floor, let alone a date with someone of the opposite gender. I was useless. A bad leader. A worse Christian.

I was like Bono, calling myself a crap disciple, forgetting that in God's eyes, we're all equally awful and bad at this life of discipleship.

Then the notes started to come in. A post-it on my door. A letter in my CPO. A note slipped under my door. Little reminders that while I have a lot of growing to do, I wasn't a complete failure. I shouldn't need letters to know that's the truth, but I appreciate them nonetheless.

Today, I listen to Christmas music. Granted, it's Sufjan, and sounds way more emotionally devastating than the average Christmas hymn, but I like. Today, I jump on the birthday celebration early. Reminding myself that Christ was born so that he could carry my burden. He could give hope when all else seemed doomed. And today, I'm going to live in that truth. Not with regrets and old pajamas, but with prayer and sunshine.

Learning Biblical Submission

I don't like the word 'submision'. It's a dirty word in my book, up there with 'feminism' 'chauvinism' and 'the White Sox.'
I was raised to believe that there were an evil group of pretend Christians who told women they needed to submit to their husbands, and live passive lives. I was told they called themselves "Calvinists."
In case you didn't know, I grew up Wesleyan. That's right all of you Moody-ites, I grew up believing that salvation is a free gift given to everyone, that you can lose your salvation and that men and women are complete equals.
And then I came to Moody. Some would say I found truth. Others would say I went to the dark side. Either way, as anyone could tell you, I would never be a quiet and meek wife.
I am loud. I am opinionated. I am well-educated and plan on becoming better educated. I do not back down easily, I make my own decisions and above all, I stand up for myself. I am the archetype for the independent woman.
Therefore, something seems terribly amiss. Either my theology is wrong or I am terribly in sin.
Yet, God has been teaching me something about humility and submissiveness, and I'm learning that both are good things at which I am not very good. As defined by the wonderful Pamela MacRae (or more aptly, as quoted by the wonderful MacRae), submission is "the opposite of self-assertion. It is the desire to get along with one another, being satisfied with less than one's due, a sweet reasonableness of attitude." Or as Danica put it, a peacemaker.
Being submissive is not about obeying someone else. It is not about giving up your hopes and dreams for someone else's. Submission is about humility. It means honoring others as better than yourself. It means striving for peace in all circumstances. It means being reasonable. In other words, it's the Christian duty.
I am not submissive. I am often selfish, unwilling to compromise. I value myself highly, and frequently place my own needs above the needs of others. I have a sin issue with pride that I'm working on through the strength of God.
On Thursday, I sat in my Greek class with a sheet of sentences moderately well translated. I sat in the second row (my usual spot) listening to my professor walk us through the translations. We came to sentence 4, with only a few minutes left in class. He gave us the translation, and I instantaneously caught a seeming error. I had to confront this error, so, without raising my hand, I burst out the appropriate translation, only to be told I was wrong.
For the next 3 minutes, I restated my case, explaining why I was right and the professor was wrong. He dismissed class, and I continued, this time pulling a few students to side with me. The issue was no longer understanding Greek. This battle was now about who was right, and I was determined it had to be me.
I was wrong. The second I began acting in arrogance was the moment I stepped outside the desires of God. God calls me to be in submission to others. Not just my husband, but the Christian community. He calls me to respect my elders and learn quietly.  I am called to do this not because I'm not worthy of talking, but because in quietness is how we learn.
I decided on Friday that I needed to apologize to my professor. I did not send the e-mail until today. Its funny how hard it is to be humble. I was amazed at how hard those three sentences were to type, how hard it was for me to say "I'm sorry" and "I was wrong."  I have a long way to go on this road to godliness. Yet, I am grateful that God does not rate me on my performance, but loves me in Christ, who has already paid the price for each and every sin I commit, day by day.
For his glory and honor, I will keep limping along, knowing that he has given me strength

Pride in my Brokenness

I have been thinking a lot about my depravity. Somehow, the crushing of my ego becomes rejuvenating, and I ruminate in my horrendous existence. Yet, I'm realizing that I like being in pieces. I like being cracked and wearied, and feeling unworthy of any love.

I think something is terribly wrong with me.

I talk a lot about being seen like Christ. I marvel in this idea that we are united with the Son, and in that, we are viewed as righteous. We are worthy of being called children of God because Christ has redeemed us and taken all our depravity and covered it in his perfect and holy blood. I like that a lot.

And I think its healthy. I think we should be made increasingly aware of how unable we are to merit God's favor. To see clearly, that we are not the sum of our actions before Christ: we are simply his.

I nanny two precious boys: Tyler, 4,  and Sean, 2. Everything they do is perfect. Sean spins in circles and touches the ground to a FloRida song, and suddenly he's a choreographer. Tyler counts to 24, and suddenly he's a math wizard. I am like Grandma, whose reality extends only to the existence of these two children; therefore their every move is glorious and wonderful.

Sometimes, I'm not so pleased. Like the time, Tyler shoved his brother off the front porch. Or the time, Sean kicked and screamed furiously because I held Tyler's hand to cross the road. But I don't love those boys because their good moments outnumber their bad. I love them, because they're my children. They are the kids I identify with; the ones that I feel personally responsible for. I take joy in their being, and even when they hurt me, I love them. I forgive them, because I know their youth and the foolishness that goes along with it.

God is kind of like that with us. He rests in heaven, watching us be children. He watches our nonsensical mistakes and he hates our sin, but he sees it through the lens of our foolishness, and knows one day we will be more sanctified than we are now. He knows multivariable calculus, but he celebrates when we get 2 + 2 right on only the third try.

But somewhere, in my love of brokenness and depravity, I've lost touch with reality. Being broken and hating oneself is not the same as making silly mistakes. Its blatant sin. If God loves us, who are we not to love ourselves?

I like to think sometimes, that hating myself means I'm not prideful. I like to think that if I am lost in the abyss of my badness, then I won't ever get any worse. I forget that God doesn't call us to be in misery. He calls us to boast with gladness that we are his. That we are in him. That we are transforming from one degree of glory to another. I get stuck in Romans 3:23 and forget verse 24. We are justified (declared righteous) by God's grace through Christ Jesus. There is no doubt that I am totally depraved, and I need to be reminded a bit more frequently of that fact. However, God has already decided that I am good. Not because of anything I do or anything I am, but because he has freely chosen to call me that through the work of his son.

So my brokenness is a good starting stage. When your foundation is shaky, the house must come down. Yet, God doesn't ask for me to be a pile of rumble before him. He calls me to be rooted, built up, and established in the faith. That faith that says that God loves me, and he wants to finish the good work he started in me. He wants me to look more like Christ. Any day I say that I can do it myself, I'm a liar, and I pridefully say I don't need God. But any day I say I can't grow or change, but that God loves me as I am, I deny his good purpose and pretend as if God is not able to do far more than I can comprehend.

I'm not sure where that leaves me today. I still feel like a jigsaw puzzle of a thousand pieces of a clear blue sky, but I know that God is putting me back together, and I will trust my jagged edges in the palm of his hand.

Sunshine, Pride and the Early Morning.

I was giddy about the sunrise. I couldn't see it from my corner of the air mattress, but I was excited. As each ray of light slowly started to peak into the upstairs window, I knew it was nearly time to get up.
There are mornings where I wonder what the rest of the world is sleeping. 7 am, Saturday morning, I am cheerfully jumping out of bed while the other 10 girls on retreat nestle under their covers until at least 9:15.
But morning is here and I am ready to be here as well. Lately, I've been overly concerned about my actions being prideful. As I stumbled out of the room to do my devotions, I wondered if waking up early was something I prided myself on. I wondered if I should lay in bed longer, until it was more appropriate to get out of bed.
That's a silly suggestion. I'm still working on how to balance my pride with my every day life. I am slowly learning that pride seeps into every decision and every conversation, even those about working on pride. I am unable to conquer it alone. I'm slowly learning to put my struggles at the feet of the Cross and come to Jesus as I am.
So this morning, as I wait for the coffee to finish brewing and as I check the weather for the 15th time, I'm coming to God with my pride and my shame. Letting him know that I'm stuck in the balance: not sure of what comes next.
This is a battle I will fight everyday if I'm lucky. Let's just be grateful I'm never fighting it alone.

Drowning in 2 Feet of Water

I'm not sure where I'm headed. I've packed my bag, preparing for the deepest winter and hoping sunshine and 70s will prevail. I've thought, maybe it will be smooth sailing from here on out — more like staying in the penthouse on a luxury cruise ship than smuggled in dark box hidden at the bottom of a cargo ship.

Yet something tells me that I'm not going to look forward to midnight buffets and cable tv. I'm gearing up to go to war, hoping to hold out long enough to reach my goal.

Its been a tough battle with God. He tells me we're on the same side, that its for my own good, but at the moment, the tears pour freely and I'm petrified.

I'm feeling a little like Jonah at the moment. As I'm heading down the path that I see best, I'm being thrown overboard and told its for my own good. 

It's been a day. A hard day in a dark world and I know I have a few more left. Yet, something inside of me keeps saying this is a good place to be. Take the hard moment to soften yourself, to be the girl God created you to be. Something is saying that its not enough to wait it out; I need to obey.

So here's to being a repentant Jonah. One who doesn't curse the tree for not providing for shade and one who does what God asks willingly. Its a lot to hope for, and takes more than I have to give. Luckily, I've learned something in my 2 years of Bible School: I don't do it alone.

So here I sit in this puddle of muck knowing this is not where I want to be and I am not who I want to be, but knowing — or at least hoping — that God really is enough for me. He alone gives us strength. He alone carries us through the chaos and brings us from death to life so that we can glory in all that he is.