Do hard things...

I just watched the movie, Eat, Pray, Love. I certainly had an affinity for the beauty and cultures (read: food!) that she experienced, but I found her answer to life's great question far too easy: "God is within you, as you." How convenient. If God is in me, then all I need to is love myself. Perhaps the case could be made that if God is in me, then I am also obligated to love others, but if I am God, cannot I do whatever I like?

The Scriptures would say, "No," to a degree. God is love, therefore He must love. I, however, am a selfish, weak human who can barely muster the strength to love people that get under my skin. Sure, I may not be mean outright, but if the world could hear the words that my spirit mutters, all would be made plain. If I congratulate myself on an act of charity, honesty prods me to acknowledge that even when I do something loving, there are times when I hold back. I hold back because true selfless love costs me too much. It is inconvenient. Do I clean up after dinner for my 80-year-old mother even if I haven't eaten? Not today. What about the annoying family friend that drops in unexpectedly? Do I listen to them as attentively as I ought? Do I truly love them when they are present? Oftentimes not.

Even as I fail at doing what I ought to do, I am drawn to things that challenge me. I don't like easy answers. I mean, I like 'em, but not really. Easy is easy, so where is the satisfaction in that? I prefer things like, "Turn the other cheek..." or "love your neighbor..." which includes those who aren't so "easy" to love. See a pattern here?

Perhaps the beauty of a title like Eat, Pray, Love is that each one is progressively harder than the last. Eat? Easy. Pray? Possibly. Love? God help me.

My Non-Fiction Life

    I am currently reading two books simultaneously: Timothy Keller’s The Reason for God and Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream by David Platt. Yes, I love non-fiction, and it is only in recent years that I have come to enjoy fiction as much. Perhaps it is because non-fiction books are so helpful and practical and full of good advice, yet very rarely do I find the life and actions of a fictional character worthy of repeating. Jane Eyre, Anne of Green Gables, maybe, but while I love Louise Erdrich’s prose, I wouldn’t say that many of her characters are worth imitating. Non-fiction, on the other hand, I can count on—to enrich my life and challenge me to be a better person; fiction often feels merely like an escape. This begs the question, Who doesn’t like to escape? But it is precisely because life frequently demands escaping that I feel compelled to stay—face it head on—fight the good fight. I would much rather spend my time improving this life than trying to get out of it—that is, until I die.
    The piece of non-fiction that has impacted my life most profoundly is Elisabeth Elliot’s autobiographical book, Loneliness: It can be a Wilderness. It can be a Pathway to God (more recently titled, The Path of Loneliness: Finding Your Way Through the Wilderness to God). I was seventeen years old when my first love decided upon his sophomore year in college that he wanted to date other people. I retreated to this book and found deep consolation in the words of a woman—twice widowed—who was still able to declare amidst all the suffering, “the Lord himself goes at your head; he will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not be discouraged or afraid” (Deut. 31:8). Now, that I can dig.

Roommate Moment #1

Tonight my Mom and I had one.

She was cooking dinner (courtesy of dreamdinners.com) and waiting on the fish of our "Baked Fish and Chips" to finish baking. Meanwhile, she had pulled out the "chips" and squirted some ketchup on the cooling cookie sheet. The next thing you know, we are standing over the stove talking and eating french fries hot out of the oven.

Who knew that 80-year-olds could be so fun and spontaneous?

I do.

I too, can trust Him

From the daily devotional, Streams in the Desert:

"Surrender your very selves to God as living men who have risen from the dead." (Romans 6:13.) (Weymouth.)

I went one night to hear an address on consecration. No special message came to me from it, but as the speaker kneeled to pray, he dropped this sentence: "O Lord, Thou knowest we can trust the Man that died for us." And that was my message. I rose and walked down the street to the train; and as I walked, I pondered deeply all that consecration might mean to my life and--I was afraid. And then, above the noise and clatter of the street traffic came to me the message: "You can trust the Man that died for you."

I got into the train to ride homeward; and as I rode, I thought of the changes, the sacrifices, the disappointments which consecration might mean to me and--I was afraid.

I reached home and sought my room, and there upon my knees I saw my past life. I had been a Christian, an officer in the church, a Sunday-school superintendent, but had never definitely yielded my life to God.

Yet as I thought of the darling plans which might be baffled, of the cherished hopes to be surrendered, and the chosen profession which I might be called upon to abandon--I was afraid.

I did not see the better things God had for me, so my soul was shrinking back; and then for the last time with a swift rush of convicting power, came to my innermost heart that searching message:

"My child, you can trust the Man that died for you. If you cannot trust Him who can you trust?"

That settled it for me, for in a flash I saw that the Man who so loved me as to die for me could be absolutely trusted with all the concerns of the life He had saved.

Friend, you can trust the Man that died for you. You can trust Him to baffle no plan which is not best to be foiled, and to carry out every one which is for God's glory and your highest good. You can trust Him to lead you in the path which is the very best in this world for you.--J. H. McC.

"Just as I am, thy love unknown,
Has broken every barrier down,
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine ALONE,
O Lamb of God, I come!"

Terror and Trust

Tonight I went to a concert to benefit Mission of Hope in Haiti. As watched images of broken people being restored, I thought of how often God uses the evil things of this world for good. On the ride home I heard the following lyric:

I see the faith of our fathers/ Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob/ They never saw what was promised/ But they never once felt forsaken

I realized that perhaps the things I perceive as promises in my life will, like those men in the history of faith, remain unfulfilled for God’s greater purpose. While I would be honored to be such a vessel, it might require emptying myself of many of the dreams I have for my future including marriage and children.

I dare not thwart God’s purposes and plans, and I would rather have what He has for me than what I might choose for myself (as hard as that might be to receive), and I have come to the following conclusion: I trust Him. And I am terrified.

Because of your love

While listening to a song by Phil Wickham today, I began to think of a metaphor for Jesus' sacrifice on the Cross.

Imagine you travel to an Asian country where the punishment for drug possession includes the death penalty. During your stay, you purchase some marijuana for recreational use, but somehow the drugs are discovered by the authorities, and you are sentenced to death.

Now picture a completely innocent man who offers to take your place so that you can go free.

Yeah, it's kinda like that.