Mo Money Mo Problems July 8, 2009

I’ve wanted to read the book A Severe Mercy for a long time.  Okay, maybe like 2 months.  But I really wanted to read it.  It’s kind of random, but the book seems to be a modern classic.  C.S. Lewis is loosely connected…are you surprised I was interested?  But actually, he’s not the reason.  Anyway, on the back of my copy it says that A Severe Mercy is about “Sheldon ‘Van’ Vanauken and Jean ‘Davy’ Vanauken [who] were lucky enough to discover that radiant love so often written of in books, so seldom found in real life.”

This is the first of at least a few posts that I will surely publish as I read and reflect on this book, but man, this couple is…unique. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about money lately.  Probably because I don’t have much of it.  Now that I’m paying rent (and wondering how I’ll pay for grad school in the Fall) I’ve gotten serious about budgeting.  I’m naturally frugal, but now I’m taking out cash right after I get my paycheck and allotting a specific amount to every area of spending.  Like a real live grown-up!  But not having money means not having things, and not having things makes you think about how much you really need them, and whether you need them at all.

And that’s where A Severe Mercy comes in.  One night, early in their relationship, they are discussing (in an interlude during a makeout session, mind you) what might divide lovers and conquer love.  They decided that stuff can get in the way; possessions.  At such a young age, they were wise enough to see that when you over-value what you own, it ends up owning you.  They vowed to live free of such burdens, thus buying cheap stuff that they won’t mind seeing broken or stolen or scratched.  The funny thing is, they really followed through with this idea.  Van recalls the time when they got their first brand new car, which they proceeded to pound “severely with a hammer to make it comfortably dented.”  What!?  My first thought was, I do not know anybody who would do such a thing.  My next thought was, I wish I were that free.  Not just free from possessions, but free from conformity to the thought patterns of this world, that say, “You must have many possessions, and you must guard them with your life, and you must mourn greatly if something happens to them!”

Maybe reading this book will help me as I try to shake loose the desire for more more more in the midst of the more culture in L.A.  But it also might help me daydream too much about an idyllic relationship spent cavorting around islands on a yacht.  Omitting, of course, the tragic ending.

Born on the Fourth of July July 7, 2009

Okay, I wasn’t really.  I was actually born on the 3rd of July.  But (Mom, correct me if I’m wrong) the story goes that my due date was July 4th and the doctor didn’t want to do a c-section on the holiday, so my mom had the option of picking the 3rd or the 5th.  How special!  I’m glad she chose the 3rd, though, because otherwise it wouldn’t be so crazy that my license plate has the numbers 7 3 84 in it.  Woah.

Anyway, I turned 25 on Friday, and one thing I can say about my 25 years on this earth: I finally got smart about parties.  See, I love throwing parties.  The more the merrier.  I hosted a couple of epic parties back in college (epic being a relative term when you go to a Bible college where everyone’s signed contracts that they won’t touch alcohol).  The best was at the end of my senior year, when I threw a Peter Pan themed party – fairies, lost boys, pirates, and Indians everywhere.  I was Tiger Lily and got a wicked spray tan.  A bunch of us ended up dancing in the backyard like the lemurs in Madagascar.  Sweet.

Back to my party anxiety.  The during is usually great.  But my freak outs always happen in the moments before, when I’m waiting for the first guests to arrive and wondering if anyone will even show, if anyone at all in the world actually loves me.  Birthdays are the worst, because so many people go out of town for the Fourth, so my guest list is usually pitifully small.  So this year, I wised up.  I decided that a) I didn’t want to worry about who loves me and who doesn’t on my 25th birthday, fully aware that I might already be dealing with monstrous emotions of a quarter-life crisis; and b) I didn’t want a diminished guest list due to the Fourth and also about half of my friends leaving for other countries the first week of July.

So what did I do?  I had two parties, silly!  The Saturday before my birthday I had a bunch of friends meet me at my new (to me) apartment in Pasadena where we had some drinks and some appetizers before heading out to The Cat and Fiddle in Hollywood.  Inside, the Cat was pretty dead, but their courtyard was hopping.  Lots of ivy and twinkle lights and wrought iron made it a good place to chill, although not worth the traffic we had to fight to get there!  Good times with fun friends.

Then on Friday, my actual birthday, I had a little barbeque with just my family and my “other family”, the Rays.  It was so fun because I was totally relaxed.  I didn’t have to worry about how I looked or who came or how much food we had.  It was so good to spend quality time with people I love and who love me.  So, it’s good to know that while I am older, I’m a bit wiser too.

Now on to the juicy stuff…I know you’re dying to ask if I am going through a quarter-life crisis.  As dumb as that sounds…I kind of am.  I think.  I don’t know.  I do know that I’ve been having a lot of feelings lately – such strong emotions that I don’t know how to deal with so I tend to just try to shut them off or drown them out.  Healthy, right?  Oh, and every time I see a baby now, my womb hurts.  Hee.  Totally kidding about that one.  Although, I am way more aware now of my utter singleness.  I never thought I would be 25 and not even dating anyone.  I know that there’s people reading this thinking, “Why, she’s just a baby!” and others thinking, “Yeesh, 25?  She should join eHarmony or something.”  I remember being 20 and seeing 25 year old friends get married, thinking that they found love “later in life.”  Oh ho, how foolish I was.

To round out these ramblings I thought I would share a quote I read on Greg Boyd’s blog that goes along with the Fourth of July theme and made me think:

Greg Boyd, on Steven Russell’s Overcoming Evil

He [Russell] notes that empires rise and fall with remarkable speed, even those such as Assyria and Babylon who, at the height of their power, seemed utterly invincible. Babylon’s mighty reign lasted less than a century, as did the empire of modern day communist Russia. We Americans are now the reigning empire, and, as with all previous empires, we trust in our power and wealth to keep us secure. (In fact, as with all previous empires, we interpret our power and wealth as a blessing from God/the gods). We must remember that this has been the arrogant mindset of all empires just prior to their falls from power.

In this light, Russell concludes, “Who imagined the fall of the Soviet Union would come a short seven decades after its founding and rapid rise in power? And who among us knows what God has in store for our nation or any other? But His purpose is good, and if we choose to become part of His plan, even our deaths will be victorious” (72-73).

Wise words. I encourage you to put no trust in the power and wealth of America (or whatever country you happen to live in). The only real security is in Yaweh and living his way, as revealed in Jesus Christ.

Even if it means you die.

Okay, maybe not terribly cheery or patriotic, but these are wise words.  Often in Europe I thought about what it would be like to be one of those smaller, albeit developed and thriving, countries.  Prior to the election, Norwegians would eagerly ask my opinion on the race, declaring that “America’s president is our president.”  How crazy will it be when America is in that position with another nation overshadowing her?

It’s Only Awkward If You Make It Awkward July 2, 2009

 

On my DTS in Australia, one of our favorite sayings was, “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward!”

Well, I was reading Mark 14 yesterday, when the woman comes into Simon’s home and anoints Jesus by breaking an alabaster jar of perfume all over his head.  I tried to imagine this happening, and realized that it was a super awkward moment.  Jesus is reclining at a table at a dinner party, when this random woman walks in unanounced and uninvited.  Apparently without speaking and without ceremony, she stands over Jesus, breaks the vial, and dumps perfume all over His head.  Now, anyone else would probably be stunned by this event, but I assume Jesus wasn’t.  I think He naturally and smoothly shifted gears, opened Himself up to the moment, and received the anointing.  I imagine it was a very intimate experience; so intimate that it was awkward for onlookers.  But I love, love, love how Jesus defended the woman when people ridiculed her.  He not only defended her, He honored her by saying that wherever the gospel is preached, they’ll tell her story, too.  It’s so good to know that when we step out in obedience to his call for utter, soul to soul intimacy with Him, to the point of looking awkward or attracting criticism, Jesus doesn’t leave us exposed and alone.  He enters into the moment and lets us pour our broken selves and our broken love all over Him;  He defends us before our accusers, and He honors us.

Revisiting Stuff White People Like July 2, 2009

About a year ago, I was totally into this site for like 5 minutes and then I got bored. 

Today I stumbled on it again and there were some pretty hilarious posts just on the first page.  If you’re looking for a leg up out of your ethnocentrism (if you’re white), and want a quick and cheap laugh (mostly at yourself) hit up Stuff White People Like.  The Vespa, Hating People Who Wear Ed Hardy, and Taking a Year Off posts were my faves.

Holding Things Loosely June 29, 2009

So, the most awful thing happened to me the other day.  The hard drive on my Macbook crashed.  My great little black badass of a Macbook, that’s been a trooper as I’ve carted him all over the world the past two and a half years.  It was terrible when I realized that I had lost everything – my poems and articles and free writing pieces; my resources from my time with YWAM; and all my pictures.  Hundreds and hundreds of photos from over 15 countries and a thousand faces and a million experiences.  Even typing this now makes my heart hurt a little bit.

But.  On Saturday, even as I was reeling from my loss, something inside me spoke calmly and firmly: “This is not true loss.”  I was quietly aware of all of the things I still had to be thankful for.  I didn’t want to be some weird Stepford wife Christian robot, mechanically mouthing the words, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord.”  But I truly did feel grateful.  I thought about the fact that I still had a laptop.  That I have a creative mind that will create new pieces and poems.  That even though I don’t have the pictures to prove it, I still have 2 years of God-given adventures that have left their mark on my memory, on my character, and on my future.

Yesterday I read in Oswald Chamber’s My Utmost For His Highest these words, so fitting for my situation:

“Our personal property and possessions are to be a matter of indifference to us, and our hold on these things should be very loose.  If this is not the case, we will have panic, heartache, and distress.”

Sometimes I hate how cold Chambers comes across, but the man’s got it right.  It reminds me of Jesus’ story about the guy that stocks up all his treasure and gets all satisfied with himself and then finds out he’s going to die that very night.  Then what will he do with all of his stuff? 

So, I’m not glad that my hard drive crashed, and I’m not very happy with myself for thinking I’m immune to such things and not backing up my stuff like EVERYONE tells you to.  But I am so thankful that I am not my writing, or my pictures, or my things – those don’t make up me and they don’t make up my life.

So I guess it wasn’t the most awful thing that could have happened to me.  I guess I’m thankful for the chance to learn to hold things more loosely, because it saves me from more heartache down the road.

The Wind in The Willows: A Review June 18, 2009

C.S. Lewis alludes to Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows as casually as if it were the story of Cinderella – as though everyone has read it dozens of times and is familiar with all the characters and even specific scenes.

This made me feel a little dumb when reading C.S. Lewis.  So, I thought what’s good enough for C.S. Lewis is good enough for me, and I checked out the little novel from the library.  It was in the children’s section, and came with illustrations.  But it’s a beautifully written little story, about 4 animals in a wood, and about friendship, and about the misadventures of a conceited toad.  Some of Grahame’s prose is delicately beautiful and heartbreakingly rich, and it’s the kind of book that you should lend a couple of hours to at a time, and finish in two or three sittings (which is not how I did it).

In the Afterword, it is explained that the book is actually 3 in one.  “There is the contemplative, pastoral, sentimental, and nostalgic story of those best of old-fashioned friends Rat and Badger and Mole.  There is the rollicking adventure of the irrepressible and trouble-minded toad.  And there is the mystical, magiccal, even visionary and dreamlike, allegory of Pan with his pipes at the Gates of Dawn.  Some readers prefer the story of friendship; some prefer the fast-paced adventure; some prefer the dream.”

I prefer the dream.  My favorite passages came out of the two dreamlike chapters, which have almost nothing to do with the rest of the story and reflect some of Grahame’s philosophical and spiritual beliefs.  I found these chapters like precious stones in a pile of gold.  They would waken something deep and piercing inside me, almost to the point of discomfort, but a good discomfort.  But some of the scenes in the story of friendship were also quite moving in their own simple, lovely way: they left me with a sweet longing for old friends and for that idyllic, slow lifestyle spent mainly outdoors, picnicking and boating.  I really didn’t care for the hapless shenanigans of Mr. Toad, but to each her own.

I’ll leave you with a couple of my favorite passages (both from the two dreamy chapters).

From The Piper at the Gates of Dawn:

Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious.  He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden.  Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper [...] All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.

‘Rat!’ he found breath to whisper, shaking. ‘Are you afraid?’

‘Afraid?’ murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. ‘Afraid!  Of Him?  O, never, never!  And yet–and yet–O, Mole, I am afraid!’”

I would give you a quote from the chapter “Wayfarers All” but I might save that for its own post.  But I love the part where the Water Rat packs the perfect picnic:

“There he got out the luncheon basket and packed a simple meal, in which, remembering the stranger’s origin and preferences, he took care to include a yard of long French bread, a sausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down and cried, and a long necked straw-covered flask containing bottled sunshine shed and garnered on far Southern slopes.”

Let’s take that with us to the Hollywood Bowl, hey?

Animate June 17, 2009

I keep a little list in my mobile phone of books I want to read.  For almost a year, I had on that list “Greg Boyd – Woodland Hills.”  Andreas, my leader in Norway, raved about Greg Boyd all the time.  He was his disciple in the same way I follow Erwin McManus, reading his books and podcasts and quoting him in conversation.

When I came home to California and started working a job that allowed me to listen to my iPod 7 hours a day, I realized I needed to add a few more podcasts to my repertoire (which basically consisted of Erwin McManus).  So I finally downloaded a bunch of Greg Boyd’s podcasts, and lucky for me, he had just started a series called “Animate.”

You guys, this series was unbelievable.  I’m blogging about it because honestly I want every single person I know to listen to this series.  It’s all about using our imagination in our walk with God.  You know how you can go years believing certain truths about God, but then one day you actually believe it, and everything changes?  Some people say that knowledge went from your head to your heart.  For me, I always “knew” that God was my Father.  But, starting in Australia, God took me on a journey over a year and a half until I finally believed that He really is my Father…and a good Father, at that!

Greg says the reason for this head-heart disconnection is that these amazing truths about God and His Kingdom don’t actually feel real to people.  The car wash and the grocery list list, the broken heart they are nursing, the strained relationship with their mom, the flailing economy – these things feel real to people because they experience them.  People who genuinely love Jesus and want to follow Him find themselves trying to believe His truth while everything inside of them and around them says that it’s not real.  They’re sucked into selling out to the values of the culture, even though they are contrary to the values of the kingdom, because that feels real to them while Jesus and the Scriptures and an eternal Kingdom just feel like a set of beliefs.  Greg, in what could be his thesis statement for the series, says,

“You can’t fight concrete, vivid, experiential images in the mind with abstract truths and a list of oughts and shoulds.  It’s time that we recover a flesh and blood theology.” 

His goal in “Animate” is to teach people how to make the abstract concrete, so that we can actually be shaped by it.  He does this by using the imagination.  Richard Foster says that “to believe that God can sanctify and utilize the imagination is simply to take seriously the Christian idea of incarnation.”

Maybe it sounds a bit New Age, a bit mystical?  I don’t know.  If you’ve ever felt that tension I just mentioned, when you want to believe in this Kingdom that starts as a tiny seed, as a pinch of leaven, and ends as something bigger than you dreamed, but you see it (consciously or otherwise) as totally separate from true reality, then give this series a try.  Download it free from iTunes.  Start from the beginning, ride it out till the end.  Try the exercises Greg suggests and leads you through.  Let me know how it goes.

Subversive Acts June 10, 2009

“Rest and laughter are the most spiritual and subversive acts of all.  Laugh, rest, slow down.”

–Anne Lamott

“Let Us Commence”

Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

I know what you’re thinking.  Does Joy have one original thought in her head, or is her mind only occupied by quotes from famous authors,  swirling around like plastic bags and empty coffee cups in an empty lot?  Well, deal with it.  At least until I’ve read everything by Anne Lamott and get over it.

When I first got back from Norway, I mentioned to a friend that I found it difficult to keep a quiet heart while residing here in Los Angeles.  At Grimerud, in the countryside, it was still difficult to get my mind to shut up for a little while so I could have some peace.  But it was easier.  I could take an hour long walk and not see one other person or car.  I could set myself up in one of the living rooms overlooking the lake with provisions of brown cheese, tea, and Jason Upton to aid my quieting process.  But ever since I came back, it’s like there’s a bird flapping around in my head all the time, piercing any attempts at peace with its frantic squawking.  

The problem is, I haven’t been doing what I need to do to quiet my mind, my heart, my soul.  Well, sometimes I do.  I go to Starbucks with my bag full of books: the Bible, my journal, a devotional or two, a Christian book, and a novel.  Oh, and my iPod.  I sit in the shade and drown out the sound of traffic on Valencia Boulevard and wait for the dust to settle.  Usually out of that dust comes Jesus, with some tender words, reassurances, and help for things I didn’t even know I needed help with.  These are times that lift me up, strengthen me, and buoy me for the rest of the day (or sometimes hour).  Andreas, my leader in Norway, once said that a solid affirmation from God can keep him going for weeks.

It’s true, and after these times with Him I always wonder why I waste my time on anything else.  And yet I do.  I putter around my room, I waste endless hours on Facebook, I watch television that doesn’t even entertain me, and I ruminate on anxiety-laden scenarios of the future or rejection-stained moments from the past.

When I’m alone, why don’t I do the things that make me quiet, and make me happy?  Reading good books, writing, spending time outdoors, savoring good food.  I don’t feel like a true American unless I’m busy and caught up on all the latest TV shows.  It’s such a status symbol here: being busy.  That’s why Anne Lamott says it’s subversive to rest.  You’re going against the grain, you’re that lady with cellulite who still wears shorts and refuses to wear the shame others try to pin on her.  I find myself sometimes doing my errands with a flat line for a mouth and a furrowed brow.  That’s when I feel Jesus nudge me with his elbow and say, “Lighten up, Joy.  Why are you so serious?”  

Instead of being stressed out and irritated and mad at myself for getting lost for the third time this week, can I just laugh at myself?  Can I laugh at the situation I’m in, or the feeling that I’m not what they’re looking for, or at the sight of a dog recklessly hanging his head out the window of a moving car, with the wind in his hair?  This morning on my run, as I was somberly plodding along, I saw a squirrel bounding toward a tree, trampoline-hopping off all four paws at once, barely letting them touch the ground.  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in a quick, spastic laugh.  

Tonight while I ate dinner, instead or watching The Office online or another episode of Gilmore Girls, I read out of The Wind in the Willows and let my heart rest in the burrows and fields and ponds of Kenneth Grahame’s imagination.

Subversive acts usually start on a small scale.

What I Want to Do on My Summer Vacation June 3, 2009

You know how you used to tell the whole class what you did during your summer break?  Well, now that I’m a *cough* grown-up and work full time, thus disqualifying me for a summer vacation, does not mean that I can’t still wish for some things to happen during this season.  In random order, and fully aware of the improbability of a few*, here are my top 13**:

1. See Kings of Leon live.  Preferably outdoors.  And dance like a rockstar to “Use Somebody.”

2. Swim in the ocean.  I know it’s basic, but you’d be surprised how easy it is for summer to pass without this happening.  And once I get in, I always love it.

3. Go to the Hollywood Bowl with either a) cute, funny, and attentive boy, or b) group of fun friends and definitely with c) lots of amazing cheese and wine.

4. Travel to Sweden for Matilda and Rickard’s wedding, and for the Midsummer’s celebration.

5. Hike.  Frequently.

6. Go sailing.  (I’ve never been.  I know!)

7. Griffith Observatory.  This one depends on the company.

8. Watch the sunset over the ocean and have a bonfire, complete with s’mores.  (Oh, and if we do carne asada like the good old LPC days, so much the better).

9. Go to a Dodger game, hopefully on a fireworks night.

10. Go back to Berlin.  And Paris. And Norway.   And London.  ….and pretty much do a whole other European tour.

11. Disneyland.  This must be rounded off with a waffle cone from the ice cream shop on Main Street.

12. Wear a LOT of really cute summer dresses.

13. Have a memorable (in a good way) 25th birthday. *cough* July 3rd

*I have no problem with friends attempting to make some of the items on this list happen.

** This list may get longer.  Deal with it.

The Greatest Rides in Life (Quotable…er, Monday) May 18, 2009

“All the great experiences of life –the freedom to be, our encounters with truth, loving and being loved, daily dying to self, and so forth—are worked out in the quiet turbulence of an impoverished spirit.”

Brennan Manning,

The Wisdom of Tenderness

 

 

The truth of this idea is sobering, profound, and beautiful. The last time I read this book I commented on this paragraph in the margins, writing “What would the world list as the ‘great experiences of life’?”

I have chased after the “worldly” great experiences: the heady pleasures of feeling attractive, desired, important, and envied; the counterfeit freedom of letting loose at parties and clubs; indulging in fine meals and spa pedicures and daily Starbucks.

However, I cannot honestly say I’ve chased Manning’s great experiences. I may have ached for truth and the “freedom to be” without realizing that’s what I was hungering for. I may have performed in a particular way to earn the love I wanted, without admitting that’s what I was doing. I may have craved finding my life, and newness of life, without realizing that it costs losing it first and daily dying to myself.

What is remarkable is that, in Norway, these experiences chased after me. Or rather, God chased after me with these experiences in hand, like a lover pursuing his indifferent beloved with a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t until I turned and let him catch me that I saw just how beautiful these things are.

And when I read Manning’s words, something clicked for me and I realized that is why I had an amazing year in Europe….because it was made up of these “great experiences” and more. At Grimerud, I felt the freedom to be – to be myself, to be sad or joyful or frustrated or broken or silly – like I never have before. Sometimes I could almost literally feel the sensation of growing into myself, like a muffin rising in its pan.

From the moment I opened myself up to truth, I encountered it in breath-taking and mind-stretching ways. My framework was bent and broken so many times until I had the room to lift up my arms and stretch in God’s truth, to dance and delight in it. Being on DTS staff taught me about dying to myself (though I am still pathetically far from this being a daily occurrence), and about loving others and letting myself be loved by them, too. I tasted the exquisite sweetness of pouring myself out for others and then freely drinking when they poured themselves out for me.

But the fact of the matter is, Manning finishes this quote by saying that these experiences “are worked out in the quiet turbulence of an impoverished spirit.” Moving to Norway and feeling disoriented, out of control, and utterly alone slowly moved me into the “poor in spirit” category.” I believe that’s what caused a door in my heart to blow open and on the other side – my first true glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven. And the world’s greatest experiences pale in comparison.