Sonnet 74 by John Donne

Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp’d town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
–John Donne

Patience, Pruning, and the End of the Rope: Part 2

(8/25/09)This follow-up is taking a long time to come out. It was easy enough to write out the appearance of things–well do I know that in the eyes of the world I am on a downward spiral.

(9/2)Actually, more than a downward spiral: simply by taking the Bible literally on what it says about riches and poorness and how we are to spend our lives, to those concerned lookers-on of my life, it must look very much like I’ve taken a deathly plunge from all that is secure and realistic: with no thought of the future (we aren’t supposed to concern ourselves with our future security, though–He says so,) I’ve leapt off the precipice we, in general, stay sensibly atop of with an invisible parachute.  And I know there are those terrified of the crunch and splatter they expect I’ll make when it turns out I was wrong.

(9/3)Anyway, yes. Easy enough to describe appearances. What’s really going on, though, is such an unfolding work that it’s hard to comprehend. I can see the path behind me when I glance over my shoulder, but to piece together the present steps when I can hardly see where I’m going is somewhat of a different story. Like this quote from Oswald Chambers in tonight’s teaching: “Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading.” And yet, I want to make sense of things, if only for the benefit of the folks dreading the splatter.

I get such wonderful glimpses of what’s going on. I am praying for the Lord to prune this branch so that it bears abundant fruit–yet unlike the insensible branch that feels the effect of the blade yet can neither see the gardener that wields it nor the purpose in mind, I’ve been praying to see the gardener–to be able to understand a little bit of what’s going on. And so, these glimpses.

I’ve already recorded how all my job applications and resume-sending forays always seem to come to nothing. I sometimes feel pretty small for making as little money as I do. And yet–it is enough for me to live on at this stage of life. The Lord has undoubtedly provided–and I have enough left over to give abundantly.  I think I am being kept poor so that I must trust and rely.

I’ve struggled with being a college dropout. Almost the first question anyone asks you when you’re this age is, “So are you going to school?” And sometimes when I answer that no, I’m not, I feel like a peculiar mixture of Fail and grey-green sludge. Yet why did I drop out? I attended for three semesters as an English major. I would have probably have ended up a college professor if I kept on in that direction. Maybe I would even have made a name for myself–I was said to have considerable talent and effortless skill. Yet how self-serving. Academia began to disgust me. Of what use or goodness is academic going-around-in-circles and quibbling when people are dying? Does it help a single soul to write thirty-page papers on dichotomies in Shakespeare?? I dropped out because it wasn’t right. It was too self-serving and useless.

But I didn’t know how to serve. I still don’t know how, or what my purpose is aside from the general commands to worship God and love as He first loved us. But I’m learning. I may not be in school, but I have a better Teacher than my money could buy at a 4-year university. He is teaching me to serve. He is teaching me to be the least and lowest and not to mind or even notice.

This is a season of waiting and learning and practice for me. I don’t know how long it’s going to last, but so much work is being done that I eagerly await the beginning of the harvest.

A few quotes found in Amy Carmichael’s Gold Chord:

“Why should I start at the plough of my Lord, that maketh deep furrows on my soul? He purposeth a crop.”–Samuel Rutherford

“This sacred work demands, not lukewarm, selfish, slack souls, but hearts more finely tempered than steel, wills purer and harder than the diamond.”–Pere Didion

Sometimes I’m impatient. It can feel like, “Come on, Father, can’t we skip all this and get to the good part already?”‘ I know I’m not ready yet. I have still a stubborn independence and self-reliant streak. I know I need to get to the absolute end of my rope and fully realize the misery of trying to go it on my own so that I might give up on myself entirely and give ALL unmitigatedly to the Lord–it just hasn’t sunk in yet. Knowing it must be so doesn’t make it so. And so I’m impatient, and pray to reach the end of that rope soon, no matter what the anguish–not because I’m a glutton for pain, but because I yearn to be useful, to have a specific call and to get on with it.

But truly, there is no skipping to the good part; this is a good part, too.  I was thinking about the famous Psalm the other day–”He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.” The word maketh is interesting. I think sometimes He makes us lie down in green pastures whether we like it or not. And exploring the shepherd metaphor (once an English major, always an English major, huh?) I have to remember that it isn’t the sheep deciding where and when to go–they must simply follow the shepherd. And this is good, because let’s face it: sheep are dumb.

Something that lifted me up yesterday, also found in Gold Chord:

“When a soul sets out to find God it does not know whither it will come and by what path it will be led; but those who catch the vision are ready to follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth, regardless of what that following may involve for them. And it is as they follow, obedient to what they have seen, in this spirit of joyful adventure, that their path becomes clear before them, and they are given the power to fulfill their high calling. They are those who have the courage to break through conventionalities, who care not at all what the world thinks of them, because they are entirely taken up with the tremendous realities of the soul and God.”

Joyful adventure, indeed. I love it. In these past few days especially, I have tasted so much of the love and wonder of our Lord.

I know it looks crazy, I know. But please don’t worry about me–I’m taken care of.

Patience, Pruning, and the End of the Rope: Part 1

Everybody has a plan. They want to go to this school, pursue that career, climb Mt. Everest, write a novel, learn to dance, retire at 55 to take up painting, and/or collect all of the state quarters.

I don’t. I don’t have a single plan. When I look into the future, it’s one vast, substantial–Void. It’s not that the road is twisty and turny or obscured: there simply isn’t one. At all. I can turn all around and see a limitless horizon, yet who’s to say which compass point is for me? I have less of an idea than ever of what I want to be when I grow up.  I just don’t know what my purpose is or where I’m going.

While I’m waiting, I’m working at an ice cream shop, doing a job I got not by my own merits, but by virtue of who my roommates are. Whenever I try to endeavor something else on my own, my efforts are entirely fruitless. And a lot of the time, I can start to feel pretty insecure and useless when I see everyone I love getting more and more busy, heading off to slay their own personal dragons, getting more deeply involved with things that Matter with a capital M, and working towards the things they know they want to do. What do I do? Well. I scoop ice cream and appear to be sitting around waiting for divine enlightenment. Yeah.

This sounds Very Bad. And there are a lot of people who could and probably do think I’m crazy. What am I doing?? I was an effortlessly brainy 4.0 student! A gifted writer! I used even to be working at a sensible customer service job where there was room for advancement and pay raises. In fact, I turned down a pretty darn big one when I quit. And now I’ve dropped out of college and am scooping ice cream. Whaaaat???

But except for brief moments of panic and uncertainty, I have a feeling this is just as it’s supposed to be for the time.

I’ve been working on writing this out since last night, and it’s very slow going. I have to go to work this afternoon, though, so I think I’m going to divide this up and make this Part One and post it as-is. More later.

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More Dietrich Bonhoeffer

We have been silent witnesses of evil deeds; we have been drenched by many storms; we have learnt the arts of equivocation and pretence; experience has made us suspicious of others and kept us from being truthful and open; intolerable conflicts have worn us down and even made us cynical. Are we still of any use [to our God]? What we shall need is not geniuses, or cynics, or misanthropes, or clever tacticians, but plain, honest, straightforward men. Will our inward power of resistance be strong enough, and our honesty with ourselves remorseless enough, for us to find our way back to simplicity and straightfowardness?”

from “Life Together” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Spiritual love proves itself in that everything it says and does commends Christ. It will not seek to move others by all too personal, direct influence, by impure interference in the life of another. . .It will rather meet the other person with the clear Word of God and be ready to leave him alone with this Word for a long time, willing to release him again in order that Christ may deal with him.  . .Thus, this spiritual love will speak to Christ about a brother more than to a brother about Christ. It knows that the most direct way to others is always through prayer to Christ.”

It is true, of course, that what is an unspeakable gift of God for the lonely individual is easily disregarded and trodden underfoot by those who have the gift every day. It is easily forgotten that the fellowship of Christian brethren is a gift of grace, a gift from the Kingdom of God that any day may be taken from us, that the time that separates us from utter loneliness may be brief indeed. Therefore, let him who until now has had the privilege of living a common Christian life with other Christians praise God’s grace from the bottom of his heart.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote Life Together about communities of faith. It was such a good thing to read, for I find myself in just such a community right now, and know that every day I cannot thank our Father enough.

A lighter bill of fare…

• Last night was the night of Weird Dreams.
• Ex.: I dreamt that I was back at my childhood home–the dearest and best beloved spot in the world–and all of its greenness had faded and been bleached by drought. Also, I think I was about twelve years old again. But, defying all reason, the lake was still full and clear and glassy, and I knew the only way the gardens were to be saved was by laboriously carrying water up the hill from the lake. And with mingled desperation and determination, I gathered together as many watering cans as I supposed I could carry full, and put them on a make-shift wagon, and went down to the lake. But on my way there, I was beset by so many distractions! I had the tools, and the purpose, but couldn’t make the two meet. It was a more harrowing dream than I’ve had in a long time, to know that I was the only one who could save that little plot of land that I loved, and that I couldn’t even work up the strength of will and focus to get down to the lake. I was baffled by this dream when I woke up, but it’s all making a good deal of sense now.
• Houseguests are fun. We went to Boulder and had a frivolous day, and I’m feeling like I spent far too much money. But really, I spent no more than was absolutely required by circumstance.
• Also, I could really use a new pair of jeans. I’ve actually worked a hole into the knee of one of my only two pairs–I’ve never worn through the knees of a pair of pants before. But great as the need may be, I don’t feel like spending the money. This, I think, must be a sign that I’m growing up.
• Being a girl, it can be kind of hard at times to realize that though you may have turned a few heads along the way, you’ve never ever turned a heart. Especially when everyone around you seems to gather up so many infatuated young swains that they become a nuisance. I know, I know, you girls who have to beat off admirers and take to wearing middle eastern veils may not be able fathom this–but the ignored girl can’t help but feel that it might be a nice and novel sort of nuisance to have to deal with once in awhile.
• And now I’m off.

Demons Gettin’ You Down?

So Nehemiah re-built the wall of Jerusalem in 52 days.  You who went to the last of Eric Ludy’s discipleship sessions on Thursday night know where this is coming from. Well, with lots of earnest prayer, that night I said, “I’m in, God. Let’s get this wall up. Whether it takes 52 days, or 520, I’m going for it.”

And yesterday, the siege began and all sorts of greater and lesser demons started flooding in. Yeah, day 1 didn’t go so well. Sleep attacked me, for one thing. In the afternoon once I got home from work, I was beset with a positively unnatural sleepiness. I felt like I was drugged. I drove to the bank, feeling like my driving was a little hard to get under control, and sleepily drove about five blocks past the bank before I realized I’d missed it. A little imp of selfishness tried to come in a few times, but having come off a recent conflict with him, I always spied him right away and pushed him back out again. And there were a number of other skirmishes, but it would probably be fair to say that Distractions took the day.

Clean slate this morning, though. (It feels like it isn’t, but I know it is.) And it occurs to me that Nehemiah Juice might have a pretty good market out there.  Demons gettin’ you down? Have you discovered you’re living in a sandcastle and it’s started to rain? Drink some Nehemiah Juice and get your personal architecture problems under control! If only.

But if any amount of prayer is enough to keep them at bay today. . .Oh, boy, today they’re going down.

Rainy Night Thoughts

There are some spiritual giants in my life right now, and if we’re running a race, I don’t know how I’ll ever catch up. And it’s intimidating, and convicting. . .and inspiring.

I grew up in a public school system and supposed myself a feminist, but as time wears on I’m finding that wrong-headedness is a very natural by-product of that kind of system and I’m glad to be escaping it.

Something I’ve been realizing, and that has been corroborated by a lot of my recent reading and experience, is that as women, we are built to love and love and love and love with an overflowing, motherly, sisterly, daughterly heart. I love it. I’ve been praying Amy Carmichael’s prayer: “Lord, do Thou turn me all into love, and all my love into obedience, and let my obedience be without interruption.”

But anybody who knows me in real life will probably be astounded by these last few lines, because I’m afraid it doesn’t show up very well outwardly yet. As a Christian, I have always struggled with feelings of utter failure. I have had such a hard time believing that God has any love for grimy, useless little me. Looking back, even as a little girl, I wanted desperately to be a Christian, but I’ve never felt remotely worthy of any of the Lord’s interest. It’s an ongoing struggle, even now, but I’m beginning to see that “He who hath begun a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion.” Of course, the good work feels very small. If it’s a seed, it sure hasn’t sent up any green leaves yet, and underground are just the first signs of germination. . .

But it’s something. Something that will be a flower eventually. Only, like my green beans, it’s taking awhile to come up.

Mom McC pulled me aside after Bible study the week before last, and encouraged me to speak up more. Easier said than done. Oh, I tried and triiiied this past week to dredge something up! But sometimes. . .It’s like I’m a well. And the rope on the bucket is too short to reach the water in the bottom. . .And until I can take it up and look at it in the light, even I don’t really know what’s down there. I may look placid enough, but let me tell you of the struggle beneath the surface. I’ve let out all the rope, and even untied it from its post and dangled myself as far down the well as I can reach, yet still no water–just the rocky, mossy sides of the well.

Sigh.

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