Quotable Friday Vol. 32 (Monday Edition) August 24, 2009

Ask for the Morning Star and take (thrown in)

your earthy love…

C.S. Lewis, “Five Sonnets”

Oh man, how much does that one line make you want to read C.S. Lewis’s book of poetry (aptly titled Poems)?  I’m re-reading The Great Divorce right now.  The last time I read it I was fresh out of high school…I’m interested to see how I react to it this time around, being 7 years older and with much more life experience to speak of.

It’s weird: as much as I love C.S. Lewis, I kind of can’t stand the thought of books written about his work.  I mean, yawnsville, right?  Case in point: The Way Into Narnia, A Reader’s Guide.  Seriously?  I think that robs the reader the experience of discovering the land of Narnia on her own; it’s like writing a book on how to enjoy your birthday or something.  I’d so much rather figure it out alonethan have someone spoonfeed me his opinions of what C.S. Lewis meant in the third paragraph of the fourth chapter of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, you know?

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.

Quotable Friday, Vol. 31, Monday Mash-up Edition February 16, 2009

“Why am I afraid to dance, I who love music and rhythm and grace and song and laughter? Why am I afraid to live, I who love life and the beauty of flesh and the living colors of the earth and sky and sea? Why am I afraid to love, I who love love?”

— Eugene O’Neill

The Great God Brown

This quote made me think of my New Year’s resolution for 2009, which I foolishly documented here.  I say foolish because, like most February reflections on New Year’s resolutions, mine carry a faint scent of shame.

After proclaiming that I wanted to “open my arms to life” in 2009, I set off on an adventure to Germany – the two month outreach phase of the DTS I’m staffing.  And guess what?  Yep, having trouble savoring life here, too.  Contentment sliding out of my grasp like a bar of soap, loneliness always hovering over my shoulder, moodiness and selfishness my constant companions.

But.  If there is one thing I’ve learned during my year in Europe, it’s that change is not an event, it’s a process.  Wait, I know what you’re thinking: duh.  (Or you would be, if people still said “duh”).  The thing is I’m not sure if I was unaware of this fact of reality or if I was just stubbornly unwilling to accept it.  I’m reminded of Donald Miller quoting his friend in Searching for God Knows What: “Reality is like fine wine.  It will not appeal to children.”  My childish need for instant gratification tends to make bold statements about changing myself, and then stamps its foot and pouts when that change takes more than a good night’s sleep.

So I’m beginning to accept that major personality and lifestyle transformation takes a few more moons than I want.  But way better than that lesson is the one I’ve learned about how Jesus sees our change.  I always pictured Him rolling His eyes and sighing loudly as I fall and pick myself up and say, “Now, this time I’ll really do it!”  In this case, reality is sweeter than fine wine, it’s more like honey.  The reality is that Jesus delights in the process of change.  He doesn’t get exasperated and He doesn’t scoff when we make optimistic resolutions. 

Anne Lamott (yes, her again) describes this beautifully in an essay about learning to forgive her dead mother.  At the end of the essay, Lamott takes a small step toward forgiveness by moving her mother’s ashes from the back of her closet to the mantel in her living room.  She says of Jesus, “I don’t think much surprises him: this is how we make important changes—barely, poorly, slowly.  And still, he raises his fist in triumph.”

It’s just another way we’re totally different, Jesus and I.  But I hope to learn to enjoy the journey of change with Him, to delight in the burning in our calves as we scale inclines, to love the wind in my hair when we run down hillsides with ease, to stretch out and rest in the valleys and be refreshed by the fine wine of reality with Him.

**Note: The above picture was taken on from a hilltop in the Beaujolais wine region of France, where I picnicked on Brie, baguettes, and wine and loved every minute of it.  I thought it was a good accompaniment to a quote about savoring life…

Quotable Friday, Vol. 30 November 28, 2008

From Surprised By Joy by C.S. Lewis:

“[...] the very nature of Joy makes nonsense of our common distinction between having and wanting.  There, to have is to want and to want is to have.  Thus, the very moment when I longed to be so stabbed again, was itself again such a stabbing.”

And when God and His Joy didn’t show up the way Lewis expected:

“[...] being an idolator and a formalist, I insisted that He ought to appear in the temple I had built Him, not knowing that He cares only for temples building and not at all for temples built.”

How often do I do this?  God does something, draws near in a certain way, and…Joy!  But almost immediately I begin to build a temple for the experience, desperately wanting it to come again, in just the same way (but maybe stronger).  I often make the “first and deadly error”, as Lewis puts it, of turning from the object to the state of mind that the object brings; from God to the thrill of His nearness.  I try to build an ark or a tabernacle so He will stay there, so I can somehow tether his presence like a kite, anchor it like a ship.

But Lewis points out that this is in vain; He’s only interested in the “temple building.”  He’s moved on again, so quickly, leaped over to the next cold statue to breathe life into it.  Staying behind and trying to find Him where He was is fruitless – it’s attempting to find warmth from a fire that is now merely ashes.  Once He leaves and moves on, there is no longer anything special about that place; it’s cold and dead.  Lewis compares it to the women seeking the risen Jesus at the tomb.  The angel says to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?  He is not here, He is risen.”  And that’s how it is with God – we have to keep chasing Him, moving where and when He moves.  It’s like the Israelites in the wilderness, always at the ready to break up camp the moment Yahweh advanced.  We must realize that He doesn’t fly on to the next place without us or to get away from us, but to keep us moving…there’s so much to do and so much to see; we’re always going further up and further in!

Quotable Friday, Vol. 29 (Road Trip Ed.) November 4, 2008

“The challenge to the missionary does not come on the line that people are difficult to get saved, that backsliders are difficult to reclaim, that there is a wedge of callous indifference; but along the line of his own personal relationship to Jesus Christ.  ‘Believe ye that I am able to do this?’ Our Lord puts that question steadily, it faces us in every individual case we meet.  The one great challenge is – do I know the power of His indwelling Spirit?  Am I wise enough in God’s sight, and foolish enough according tot he world, to bank on what Jesus Christ has said [...], which is the only call for a missionary, [namely], boundless confidence in Christ Jesus?”

Oswald Chambers,

My Utmost For His Highest

It’s amazing how quickly one loses perspective in this race we’re running.  This week, I’m leading an outreach for a week on the West coast of Norway.  Today I was confronted with my own fear of what people will think when we get home if we don’t have an exultant success story from the week’s outreach.  Because that puts a LOT of pressure on my shoulders, as the leader.  It’s funny, because all I really need to do is believe that Jesus can do what He says He can – that God is who He says He is.  And that’s where the last part of this quote comes in and really rings true…because if I really believe these things, my thoughts behavior will naturally and gradually change, leading to more reckless gambling of my life on the promises He’s made, and inevitably, more foolishness in the world’s sight.

With that in mind, we’ll see how our last two days of outreach go…

Quotable Friday, Vol. 28 (Saturday Welcome Back Ed.) October 4, 2008

“When I write, I feel like an armless legless man with a crayon in his mouth.”  

Kurt Vonnegut

Maybe that’s why I just sat in front of my computer for an hour trying to write two different blog entries, and ending up with two long-winded, self-interested, boring pieces of crap.

Too bad I’m not like Kurt Vonnegut and actually an effing genius.

Quotable Friday, Vol. 27 (Monday Edition) August 4, 2008

“Those who grow, grow through either a crisis or a quest.”

Tom Hughes,

“Hallowed Be Thy Name(s) Part 1″

Christian Assembly, 8/3/08

Tom was talking about people who grow in their faith, grow in intimacy with God.  Last night, after saying the above words, he went on to point out how crisis sometimes pushes a person to seek God harder, to cling to Him tighter.  Sometimes it severs the last frayed rope tying them to the dock, letting them drift unmoored into the storm that’s raging.

But what I was thinking was that I’m glad these past couple years have been a series of quests, instead of crises.  

Quotable Friday, Vo. 26 July 25, 2008

Anne Lamott on perfectionism:

“I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping stone just right, you won’t have to die.  The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they’re doing it.”

Bird By Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

It’s embarrassing how much this quote describes me; how many times I’ve wobbled on each of those stepping stones, my arms flailing like a spastic flamingo, proud that I stepped squarely in the center, ashamed that it’s so damn hard for me while it looks so easy for everyone else (or at least, why I care so much when everyone else couldn’t care less).  

Quotable Friday, Vol. 25 July 18, 2008

“I am not the only person to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.”

Jhumpa Lahiri

“The Third and Final Continent”

Interpreter of Maladies

I can’t say much to go along with this quote, except that I deeply identify with it.  The “fortune” I have sought far from home does not align with the traditional connotation of the word; piles of cash or vaults full of gold or even stacks of accomplishments.  But in my short few years of travel I have become rich with experiences, interactions, sensations, and insights that these foreign places have lavished on me.  It is bewildering, at times, and even more so when I speculate about how my riches will multiply when I’ve been traveling for 6 years instead of 3, 20 instead of 6, 50 instead of 20.

Quotable Friday, Vol. 24 May 30, 2008

“Nothing provokes speculation more than the sight of a woman enjoying herself.”

–Marmee,

Little Women

I want to be that woman.  I think, in rare shining moments, I have been.  Can I just say that I love the movie Little Women (I love the book even more), and I watched it last week when I was home alone and very emotional and ended up crying a little and coming away with a ton of profound quotes and a noble sense of worth as an intelligent woman of depth.  It’s like Marmee says, “If you feel your value lies only in being merely decorative, I fear that someday you might find yourself believing that’s all you really are. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of your mind.”  She may have taken her wisdom from 1 Peter, where Peter writes, “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.”  Such beautiful concepts, but so difficult to apply to one’s life in Los Angeles!