Few things in this life fill me with such overwhelming emotion as baptism. No matter where I am, no matter who it is, no matter what else is happening in my own life, I am struck with the beauty of it.
However, I can't tell you why.
Sure, I could explore the theological, sacramental, liturgical significance for you. I could give you a list of ways that baptism has been important in the history of the local and global church. I have fairly strong opinions on whether or not baptism should occur as a sign of church membership or the beginning of discipleship. I could tell you a lot about what a church believes to be true about baptism based on where their baptismal is located. I could tell you heartwarming stories about the baptisms of people I love.
But none of it really reaches the heart of my response. All of the things above are real and true, and at the same time I know none of them are the reason that baptism, without exception, brings me to tears. And I don't mean "It's just so touching I could cry." I have that emotion daily. I mean passionate, unstoppable response - the kind of tears that refuse to be swallowed and beg to be celebrated with shouts of joy. That painful, otherworldly, irresistible reaction to something so much Greater, that is the source of my tears.
That's it, I suppose. Greater. My faith is personal and intimate, but it is also logical. I thrive in the intellectual realm of faith, the theology, the discussion, the debate, the reality that He is so much more that I could spend my whole life studying and never know Him fully - He is the great and immeasurable God who has deemed to make Himself known to us. This fact leaves me in awe, but it is just that. A fact. Often I lose myself in the facts and theories and explanations of faith - with great joy, I must add. But few things still awaken the passion that begs to be screamed, to be wept, to be danced.
Baptism does. It is the sign of something Greater. Something I will never study enough to grasp in its fullness. That kingdom of already and not yet. Our God is so faithful to be so present in the realms of both logic and emotion.
orphic
adj. mysterious and entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
5798/7246
This reading list situation is becoming absurd.
Also, what is it that makes it so I devour six books over a long weekend, and yet struggle through the required reading I've been trying to finish for months now?
Either of those sentences aside, I have started this weird journey of sorts, and I'll keep documenting it, even though no one but myself finds it interesting.
My host family finally had their baby (hurray!) which meant I got called home from work early on Thursday. In the shuffle to get out of the office as quickly as I could, I forgot my laptop cord on my desk. So over a four day weekend, I did a lot of reading. That, plus the bits of reading I've done over the past few weeks means my number of pages has jumped quite considerably. Onward with the review!
Warrior, by Francine Rivers: A random pick from Salvation Army while I was home on vacation. Francine Rivers wrote one of the most influential books of my adolescence, (small promotion for Redeeming Love here - read it, it's emotional, just do it) so I figured that was recommendation enough. Christian authors have tried time and time again to write novelizations of the lives of biblical characters, with varying degrees of success. I'd say Francine did well. She took a story that spanned a lifetime, broke it into understandable chunks, and aligned it with Scripture without compromising character growth and development. She personalized an Old Testament character without compromising his Jewish faith. She told his story within the context of his time and place and culture, and yet gave his faith a very real intimacy and weight. I'll never read the story of Caleb quite the same.
Merlin, by TA Barron: I have always been a fan of King Arthur stories. Really, what self respecting fantasy reader isn't? The BBC show Merlin captivated me and my roommate multiple times. And for these reasons, I didn't love this book. Origin stories are hard, especially with characters as beloved as those in the world of King Arthur. I found myself frustrated by Merlin. He made such reckless choices. The author starts out with bold insinuations about the plot, but later backtracks on them. Merlin's relationship with his mother proves predictable, rather than complex and weighty as the beginning promises. All in all, I was annoyed and bored. Sorry TA, I know its a classic of the genre, but I couldn't get on board.
Wither, by Lauren DeStefano: I've read this one before, but it's been years, and I'd hoped it'd be better the second time around. It wasn't worse. I think it might be best if I reserve passing complete judgement until I get my hands on the following books in this trilogy, because it felt like maybe she was setting the story up for something it hasn't quite reached yet. Overall, it had a lot of qualities I quite liked. It was a little creepy, a little mysterious, a little glamorous. It had all the good qualities YA dystopian novels thrive on - teenagers in situations they aren't equipped for, love triangles (or in this case a love quadrilateral maybe?), unexplained science, and bizarre world ending scenarios. The heroine's character development falls a little flat, but several of the supporting characters are well explored. Not a terrible way to distract myself when the kids were napping!
Harry Potter and the Socerer's Stone, by JK Rowling: Need I say more?
A Child Called It, by David Pelzer: Heartbreaking. A true story of one of the worst child abuse cases in recorded history, told from the perspective of the child himself. I was thankful the book began by telling readers that David does in fact escape, because otherwise, I don't know if I could have stomached it. It was exhausting to read, and I got to end desperately wishing I had the next book not because I really wanted to keep reading, but because I wanted more assurance that he was alright. It was an important reminder that there are hidden cases of extreme terror and abuse happening where we don't expect them, and it's important for adults and children alike to know the signs, to know when to alert authorities.
As Nature Made Him, by John Colapinto: I struggle to put the experience of this book into words. It's the story of a boy, raised as a girl at the recommendation of a sexologist after a botched circumcision, alongside his twin brother. There are two stories told here, really: the story of David who was born as Bruce and raised as Brenda until he was 14, an incredible argument for the impact of nature over nurture in regards to gender and sex; and the story of sexologist John Money, who used the twins' case as substantive proof that all it takes to determine the gender of a child is surgery and hormone replacement, under the care of parents who guide the child to their assigned gender. David is now a healthy, functioning adult, married, with adopted children. At the end of the book, David makes comments I found extremely important (I would quote them directly, but I don't have the book on hand as I'm writing. Maybe I'll find it and edit it in later): after his accident, it was decided for him that life without the functioning organ would make his life unlivable. It was assumed that he would not be able to function in society, that he would be an outcast, an "other" that would be unable to develop properly. As an adult, David finds this extremely demoralizing. He felt as though he was told that without that organ, it wasn't just that he wasn't normal, he wasn't a person at all. David speaks as a voice for the numerous children who were operated on in the fifties, sixties, and seventies particularly as a result of Dr. Money's supposed "research", and suffered extreme emotional and psychological wounds as a result. I didn't agree with every opinion and generalization made by Colapinto, the journalist who tells David's story, but nonetheless, I think this is a very important book.
Art for God's Sake, by Philip Graham Ryken: a little 60 page booklet I read as research for a class my mentor is teaching next month, which summarizes well the position of art and the artist in relation to God, the church, and culture. I'll summarize with a quote: "God wants all of the arts to flourish in all the fullness of their artistic potential, so that we may discover the inherent possibilities of creation and therefore come to a deeper knowledge of our Creator."
The Dangerous Act of Worship, by Mark Labberton: Look, a book I was actually supposed to read! I decided one slow day in the office to knock out a whole book for school. I'd hoped to kill the paper too, but that didn't quite get done. Labberton makes many excellent points in this wonderful book, but I'll focus on just one. One of the most profound and unique things about this book is that it presses for a response with grace. Labberton never shames the reader into action, like so many other books that despair in the inaction of the North American in response to global issues. He does an excellent job of addressing the common feeling of futility that so many North American Christians have faced when they become aware of the evil and cruelty of the world. No matter how much the individual strives to do to heal the injustice of global poverty, sex trafficking, disease, famine, and war, it all feels like a meaningless drop in an ever expanding ocean. Labberton acknowledges this frustration and gives real ways to respond in Gospel-centered movement. It is true, we can look at the suffering of the world and feel hopeless. Even in that hopelessness, however, we can serve the suffering by identifying with them. The hopelessness we feel in response to their pain is an echo of the hopelessness they themselves feel. The good news of Christ is that he rescues all of us from hopelessness and despair. Only Christ truly rescues. Apart from him, all of our striving to improve the world is in fact for nothing. But with him, we can shoulder the suffering of the world, knowing we cannot change everything, but we can change something, no matter how small.
So there's where we stand. 5,798 pages read, 1,448 to go!
theList//
Spiritual Leadership: Henry and Richard Blackaby
Reaching Out: Henry Nouwen
Unceasing Worship: Harold Best
The Dangerous Act of Worship: Mark Labberton
Silence: Shucaku Endo
Christ Centered Worship: Bryan Chapell
Rhythms of Grace: Mike Cosper
Mere Christianity: CS Lewis
Art for God's Sake: Philip Graham Ryken
Culture Making: Andy Crouch
Works of Love: Soren Kierkegaard
Awake: Noel Brewer Yeats
Fahrenheit 451: Ray Bradbury
Till We Have Faces: CS Lewis
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn: Betty Smith
Beauty: Robin Mckinley
The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya
Blue Like Jazz: Donald Miller
Click: Various Authors
The Last Little Blue Envelope: Maureen Johnson
Out of the Silent Planet: CS Lewis
Perelandria: CS Lewis
That Hideous Strength: CS Lewis
Warrior: Francine Rivers (240)
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: JK Rowling (309)
A Child Called It: David Pelzer (184)
Wither: Lauren DeStafano (384)
Merlin: TA Barron (352)
As Nature Made Him: John Colapinto (336)
Also, what is it that makes it so I devour six books over a long weekend, and yet struggle through the required reading I've been trying to finish for months now?
Either of those sentences aside, I have started this weird journey of sorts, and I'll keep documenting it, even though no one but myself finds it interesting.
My host family finally had their baby (hurray!) which meant I got called home from work early on Thursday. In the shuffle to get out of the office as quickly as I could, I forgot my laptop cord on my desk. So over a four day weekend, I did a lot of reading. That, plus the bits of reading I've done over the past few weeks means my number of pages has jumped quite considerably. Onward with the review!
Warrior, by Francine Rivers: A random pick from Salvation Army while I was home on vacation. Francine Rivers wrote one of the most influential books of my adolescence, (small promotion for Redeeming Love here - read it, it's emotional, just do it) so I figured that was recommendation enough. Christian authors have tried time and time again to write novelizations of the lives of biblical characters, with varying degrees of success. I'd say Francine did well. She took a story that spanned a lifetime, broke it into understandable chunks, and aligned it with Scripture without compromising character growth and development. She personalized an Old Testament character without compromising his Jewish faith. She told his story within the context of his time and place and culture, and yet gave his faith a very real intimacy and weight. I'll never read the story of Caleb quite the same.
Merlin, by TA Barron: I have always been a fan of King Arthur stories. Really, what self respecting fantasy reader isn't? The BBC show Merlin captivated me and my roommate multiple times. And for these reasons, I didn't love this book. Origin stories are hard, especially with characters as beloved as those in the world of King Arthur. I found myself frustrated by Merlin. He made such reckless choices. The author starts out with bold insinuations about the plot, but later backtracks on them. Merlin's relationship with his mother proves predictable, rather than complex and weighty as the beginning promises. All in all, I was annoyed and bored. Sorry TA, I know its a classic of the genre, but I couldn't get on board.
Wither, by Lauren DeStefano: I've read this one before, but it's been years, and I'd hoped it'd be better the second time around. It wasn't worse. I think it might be best if I reserve passing complete judgement until I get my hands on the following books in this trilogy, because it felt like maybe she was setting the story up for something it hasn't quite reached yet. Overall, it had a lot of qualities I quite liked. It was a little creepy, a little mysterious, a little glamorous. It had all the good qualities YA dystopian novels thrive on - teenagers in situations they aren't equipped for, love triangles (or in this case a love quadrilateral maybe?), unexplained science, and bizarre world ending scenarios. The heroine's character development falls a little flat, but several of the supporting characters are well explored. Not a terrible way to distract myself when the kids were napping!
Harry Potter and the Socerer's Stone, by JK Rowling: Need I say more?
A Child Called It, by David Pelzer: Heartbreaking. A true story of one of the worst child abuse cases in recorded history, told from the perspective of the child himself. I was thankful the book began by telling readers that David does in fact escape, because otherwise, I don't know if I could have stomached it. It was exhausting to read, and I got to end desperately wishing I had the next book not because I really wanted to keep reading, but because I wanted more assurance that he was alright. It was an important reminder that there are hidden cases of extreme terror and abuse happening where we don't expect them, and it's important for adults and children alike to know the signs, to know when to alert authorities.
As Nature Made Him, by John Colapinto: I struggle to put the experience of this book into words. It's the story of a boy, raised as a girl at the recommendation of a sexologist after a botched circumcision, alongside his twin brother. There are two stories told here, really: the story of David who was born as Bruce and raised as Brenda until he was 14, an incredible argument for the impact of nature over nurture in regards to gender and sex; and the story of sexologist John Money, who used the twins' case as substantive proof that all it takes to determine the gender of a child is surgery and hormone replacement, under the care of parents who guide the child to their assigned gender. David is now a healthy, functioning adult, married, with adopted children. At the end of the book, David makes comments I found extremely important (I would quote them directly, but I don't have the book on hand as I'm writing. Maybe I'll find it and edit it in later): after his accident, it was decided for him that life without the functioning organ would make his life unlivable. It was assumed that he would not be able to function in society, that he would be an outcast, an "other" that would be unable to develop properly. As an adult, David finds this extremely demoralizing. He felt as though he was told that without that organ, it wasn't just that he wasn't normal, he wasn't a person at all. David speaks as a voice for the numerous children who were operated on in the fifties, sixties, and seventies particularly as a result of Dr. Money's supposed "research", and suffered extreme emotional and psychological wounds as a result. I didn't agree with every opinion and generalization made by Colapinto, the journalist who tells David's story, but nonetheless, I think this is a very important book.
Art for God's Sake, by Philip Graham Ryken: a little 60 page booklet I read as research for a class my mentor is teaching next month, which summarizes well the position of art and the artist in relation to God, the church, and culture. I'll summarize with a quote: "God wants all of the arts to flourish in all the fullness of their artistic potential, so that we may discover the inherent possibilities of creation and therefore come to a deeper knowledge of our Creator."
The Dangerous Act of Worship, by Mark Labberton: Look, a book I was actually supposed to read! I decided one slow day in the office to knock out a whole book for school. I'd hoped to kill the paper too, but that didn't quite get done. Labberton makes many excellent points in this wonderful book, but I'll focus on just one. One of the most profound and unique things about this book is that it presses for a response with grace. Labberton never shames the reader into action, like so many other books that despair in the inaction of the North American in response to global issues. He does an excellent job of addressing the common feeling of futility that so many North American Christians have faced when they become aware of the evil and cruelty of the world. No matter how much the individual strives to do to heal the injustice of global poverty, sex trafficking, disease, famine, and war, it all feels like a meaningless drop in an ever expanding ocean. Labberton acknowledges this frustration and gives real ways to respond in Gospel-centered movement. It is true, we can look at the suffering of the world and feel hopeless. Even in that hopelessness, however, we can serve the suffering by identifying with them. The hopelessness we feel in response to their pain is an echo of the hopelessness they themselves feel. The good news of Christ is that he rescues all of us from hopelessness and despair. Only Christ truly rescues. Apart from him, all of our striving to improve the world is in fact for nothing. But with him, we can shoulder the suffering of the world, knowing we cannot change everything, but we can change something, no matter how small.
So there's where we stand. 5,798 pages read, 1,448 to go!
theList//
Spiritual Leadership: Henry and Richard Blackaby
Reaching Out: Henry Nouwen
Unceasing Worship: Harold Best
Mere Christianity: CS Lewis
Works of Love: Soren Kierkegaard
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn: Betty Smith
Blue Like Jazz: Donald Miller
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Eudaimonia
I have this really awful tendency to use this space to complain. I like to think that the majority of the time it is justified and healthy complaining, but all the same. I'm a mostly positive person, but I'm not sure these writings reflect that well. Upon realizing that, it seemed important to tell the story of this week.
September has begun, and my favorite people have returned to our favorite place. Move-in weekend came and my newsfeeds were overrun with reunion pictures and welcome back posts. I won't sugar coat it - it sucked. I admit, I cried. A few times. I got it in my head though, on Monday, that I wasn't going to dwell in my sadness. I had so much good going on here in Columbus! My 'ephemera' post was part of that, psyching myself up to try and wrench myself out of the dumps. I was ready to soldier on, prepared to face my own battle against the slump.
Then suddenly, I didn't have to try so hard. This week was downright phenomenal. I got to organize my boss' library, which sounds mind numbing but was probably the most fun I'd had in months! Categorizing and color coding and alphabetizing, weighing whether or not the theology of worship books go in the reference stack or the worship one, reading book jackets, recognizing authors and texts from classes - it all had me giggling while I was alone in the office. I made my tea and settled into the task for hours and it felt amazing. This week it felt like every meeting was full of learning material, and I wrote notes like crazy to incorporate it all in my final paper. I got texts from my friends at HU, and somehow they all made me feel like despite the distance, I'm still part of that place and that community, and that there will still be room for me when I return. I had great talks with my coworkers and my host family. I felt busy - a breath of fresh air after the week before when I was trying to stretch out my tasks to fill the day. Our community group met at our house instead of the normal location, and it meant I could take part but still get to bed at a good hour. I stayed late on Wednesday night to attend one of the adult education classes, and I was amazed by the whole experience. I didn't grow up in a church that did a lot of classes for adults, so it was awesome to see how that could be done. Plus, I just missed listening to lectures, and any chance to be in a classroom again is not something I'll pass up. The thought crossed my mind once that I'm running low on funds, but even that couldn't derail the joy God was funneling into my life this week.
All of that, plus the smaller joys of good food and hugs from little ones, leads me to only one conclusion: God knew I needed a hug this week.
He's taught me a lot of lessons this summer. He will teach me so many more before December comes. I was prepared to face this new challenge. But instead of letting the waves bowl me over, he scooped me up and held me safe. I got to rest. I know more troubles will come, but I have found my joy and rest in him, I know he will walk me through.
eudaimonia
n. "human flourishing"; a contented state of being happy and healthy and prosperous.
September has begun, and my favorite people have returned to our favorite place. Move-in weekend came and my newsfeeds were overrun with reunion pictures and welcome back posts. I won't sugar coat it - it sucked. I admit, I cried. A few times. I got it in my head though, on Monday, that I wasn't going to dwell in my sadness. I had so much good going on here in Columbus! My 'ephemera' post was part of that, psyching myself up to try and wrench myself out of the dumps. I was ready to soldier on, prepared to face my own battle against the slump.
Then suddenly, I didn't have to try so hard. This week was downright phenomenal. I got to organize my boss' library, which sounds mind numbing but was probably the most fun I'd had in months! Categorizing and color coding and alphabetizing, weighing whether or not the theology of worship books go in the reference stack or the worship one, reading book jackets, recognizing authors and texts from classes - it all had me giggling while I was alone in the office. I made my tea and settled into the task for hours and it felt amazing. This week it felt like every meeting was full of learning material, and I wrote notes like crazy to incorporate it all in my final paper. I got texts from my friends at HU, and somehow they all made me feel like despite the distance, I'm still part of that place and that community, and that there will still be room for me when I return. I had great talks with my coworkers and my host family. I felt busy - a breath of fresh air after the week before when I was trying to stretch out my tasks to fill the day. Our community group met at our house instead of the normal location, and it meant I could take part but still get to bed at a good hour. I stayed late on Wednesday night to attend one of the adult education classes, and I was amazed by the whole experience. I didn't grow up in a church that did a lot of classes for adults, so it was awesome to see how that could be done. Plus, I just missed listening to lectures, and any chance to be in a classroom again is not something I'll pass up. The thought crossed my mind once that I'm running low on funds, but even that couldn't derail the joy God was funneling into my life this week.
All of that, plus the smaller joys of good food and hugs from little ones, leads me to only one conclusion: God knew I needed a hug this week.
He's taught me a lot of lessons this summer. He will teach me so many more before December comes. I was prepared to face this new challenge. But instead of letting the waves bowl me over, he scooped me up and held me safe. I got to rest. I know more troubles will come, but I have found my joy and rest in him, I know he will walk me through.
eudaimonia
n. "human flourishing"; a contented state of being happy and healthy and prosperous.
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