go forth and... worship?

When I say, "worship," what comes to your mind? Too often, I'm afraid that the entire answer is caught up in contemporary praise songs that may or may not be more strongly founded in pietistic emotion than in Scripture.

Worship. What do you think? Would you think that forgiveness has a place in worship? How much of worship means being right in your heart with God? How much of your worship means having proper relationships with those around you? Does the word "worship" make you think of social justice? Is worship powerful and active in your mind? Or have you, like me, struggled to see past the traditional divisions about music in the church: from tempo to volume to accompaniment (heaven forbid there be a drum set in a Bible-believing church!)? Is this really what worship is? I propose a refreshing break from the pettiness that has come to be associated with the concept of worship. I present to you a part of my daily Scripture reading, found in Isaiah 58. I hope it not only convicts you, but moves you to live out an active, thoroughly anti-gnostic and thoroughly biblical understanding of worship. I hope it expands your understanding of worship as it did mine, stretching it once more to include every aspect of Christian love and genuine forgiveness. Join me as I go forth and worship.

"Shout it aloud, do not hold back.
Raise your voice like a trumpet.
Declare to my people their rebellion
and to the house of Jacob their sins.
For day after day they seek me out;
they seem eager to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that does what is right
and has not forsaken the commands of its God.
They ask me for just decisions
and seem eager for God to come near them.
'Why have we fasted,' they say,
'and you have not seen it?
Why have we humbled ourselves,
and you have not noticed?'

"Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please
and exploit all your workers.
Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,
and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today
and expect your voice to be heard on high.
Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
only a day for a man to humble himself?
Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed
and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?
Is that what you call a fast,
a day acceptable to the LORD ?

"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

"If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.
The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.
Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

"If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
and the LORD's holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going your own way
and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,
then you will find your joy in the LORD,
and I will cause you to ride on the heights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob."
The mouth of the LORD has spoken.

to ponder:

"I believe that the mind can be permanently profaned by the habit of attending to trivial things, so that all our thoughts shall be tinged with triviality."

-Henry David Thoreau, "Life Without Principle"

something lost-

"We will send word when we may, and some of us may yet meet at times, but I fear that we shall not all be gathered together ever again."
-Gimli, in J.R.R. Tolkein's Return of the King

I received a 5-page letter yesterday from the dearest of friends. As I unfolded the handwritten pages, I discovered a small red leaf, pressed and preserved forever in its dying brilliance. My friend had plucked it from a tree as she walked across a silent college campus, abandoned and advertised for lease.

In the past few months, I have been experiencing a time of profound mourning for an era that will never come again. I see a man walking and for a brief instant I believe that he is Tom B., smiling and entering the rehearsal hall to lead the concert choir. I sit in class and suddenly, overwhelmingly, I remember Dr. Williamson. I remember the way he challenged me, both inside and outside of class, to be the best student of history and best follower of Christ that I could possibly be. I recently discovered last season's nameplate which hung above my locker in the locker room. What bitersweet memories! I seem to hear my old roommate's laugh, to recall our expeditions and late-night conversations. I remember curling up in a large chair in Brian's office, hot chocolate in hand, feeling my character grown and molded by his wisdom. I can't decide if this death of a school is like the death of a friend, or more like the death of a part of myself.

"Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do."
-Frodo, in J.R.R. Tolkien's Return of the King

Fortunately, I read the right books as a child.

Back in the day, when one of the good guys died or was kidnapped, I knew it wasn't real. No book worth its salt would let anything happen to the hero.

But pain and tragedy are real, even for the good guys. Sometimes the wrong people die. Sometimes schools close and life plans must change. The lesson of the storybooks is no less real, because it is rooted in the deepest and oldest truths. Things will work out right in the end. It may not be in the way that we expected, as readers, but that only makes the story better. The surprises, the struggles--that is what makes the ultimate happy ending so very powerful and real.

I will never forget C-----, and I am grateful for its place in my story.

the month of maying

At the beginning of this semester, I was a little skeptical of my music appreciation course (yea, even unto the point of calling it a frou-frou class). It is required for all sophomores, and I was impatient at its interference with my taking of important courses.

I repent.

On Tuesday morning we discussed Renaissance music and musical culture. Back in the day, people would come to a party and would actually just gather around and sing songs. For fun.
Oops, I'm sorry. I think I just drooled on your shoes.

I love to sing. I sing to my sisters. I sing while walking to class. I sing to my friends. I sing while cleaning. I sing to myself. I sing while doing homework. I sing to the Lord. I am tortured by not being in the concert choir this semester, and a party like that would just be heaven for me. As we listened to some of those party songs in class, I nearly cried. It made me desperate to buy a lute, surround myself with Renaissance-costumed people, and just sing these songs for the joy of singing.

Laugh all you want.



Here is a sample of an old melody that we listened to in class. I get to write a paper this weekend on dozens of songs like these, and I am just tickled.

I defy you to be gloomy when listening to these men sing. The song is, in its very nature, joyful. It is one of my new favorites, not least of all because my face just twists itself into the goofiest, giddiest grin every time I hear it.



N.B. For those who are interested, this is a link to a very different sort of Renaissance era piece that my choir performed last semester. It literally gave me chills every time we performed it. I recommend not following the music, but simply closing your eyes and listening.

a lunchtime sabbath

September is almost over. It has been a hard month. My volleyball season has demanded much of me, with daily 2-3 hour practices and a grueling schedule of away games which often saw us driving "home" in the wee hours of the morning. Classes are also a constant source of work (as they should be). Though most of my courses are not difficult, they still require a good bit of effort. All of these factors (as well as the half-starved social life that I have lately been keeping alive with stale bread crusts and lukewarm water) have unfortunately led to a necessary encroachment on my regular weekly day of rest. I have not been able to take my customary Sunday completely off for most of this month, and that has been wearing on me. So today, as I walked into the crowded and noisy cafeteria for lunch, thinking anxiously about my afternoon homework and tonight's big game, I decided to take a break immediately.

I made myself a colorful wrap, complete with red tomatoes, white chicken, yellow peppers, green lettuce, and black olives. A colorful meal always makes me happy. I left the stuffy cafeteria behind and went to the sunny courtyard, where I was, surprisingly, left completely alone to revel in the beauty of fall. It was a glorious autumn day, with a brilliant blue sky and a bright sun that consented to warm me if I sat still and simply enjoyed her. The trees were turning yellow and red and orange, and leaves were starting to cover the grass. Acorns were falling on the sidewalks, and I tried to make a point of stepping on them when I walked. I liked the way that they popped underfoot.

I sat there in that bright courtyard for almost half an hour, reading a good book, enjoying my wrap, cold glass of water, and apple for dessert. I greeted people that walked past. I watched a squirrel bury something in the ground. I savored the fall sun, so different from the sun of spring or winter or summer, and thus so amazing. The air was chilly, reminding me of warm, pumpkin-colored sweaters and squealing children romping in fallen leaves. What a refreshing break in my demanding routine, a moment to simply sit and savor this, my favorite of seasons. For half of an hour, I simply observed God's play. I watched a scene starring the squirrel, with a backdrop that actually smelled like ripened leaves and felt like an autumn sun. (Pardon me while I take Wilson's masterpiece of thought and mimic it with muddy-colored fingerpaint on the back of an envelope.)

I challenge you all to take an extra moment today (before it snows tomorrow back at home...) to savor the wild beauty of autumn, to step for a minute outside the confines of your daily routine and to simply breathe in God's living masterpiece. Do it.

i live in a puddle.

I know I already posted something today, but I just have to share this testimony to the amazing goodness of God.

Like I said, I live in a puddle. My primary puddle of residence is basement south: the termination of choice for all the building's rain gutters. The past several days have been cold and rainy, and I definitely see the results in my wing.

My secondary puddle home is known as the Midwest. This is where most of the rain from my elevated home state runs. Down. The streets here are flooded, the sidewalks are soggy, and my walk to class is made dangerous by puddles flung by fast cars.

A puddle is cold, wet, and muddy. A puddle is not cheerful. Hence, after many days of cold grey rain and rigorous practices and, above all, feeling in between my old (faraway) friends and the friends here that I have yet to meet, I have been just a little down. I prayed yesterday that God would give me strength and some source of encouragement.

Let me give you a list of His answers:

1) I received a letter from a very dear friend and sister in Christ, which made me so grateful for her spiritual strength.
2) I received a card from my pastor and his wife, which reminded me of my community of faith.
3) I was greatly blessed by campus devo last night, which lifted my soul.
4) I received an email from my dad, which made me feel taken care of.
5) I received a phone call from a good friend, which made me smile. Big.
6) I received a card from my grandma, which warmed my heart.
7) I had a good practice and was encouraged by my amazing coach.
8) I received an uplifting e-card from my mom, which made me feel loved.

The goodness of God has made this puddle glorious. I praise Him for his continual care and thank Him for each and every one of you who has encouraged me in this transition.

ode to the uncomfortable

Never before have I heard so many voices raised, cursing the god of technology. I arrived on campus three weeks ago, and the internet consisted of one sketchy wireless connection in the lobby of the freshman/sophomore dorms. One could never walk through that spacious lobby without stepping over the legs of laptop users. It was an incredibly good way to meet many of the athletes in my dorm--peering over the blue hazy light of my screen to another smiling face in its own patch of blue light--bonded by the shared quest for the internet. As freshmen arrived on campus for orientation, the internet connection grew sketchier, and the muttered blasphemies became ever so slightly more audible. Now the internet-seeking group in the lobby was larger. Often the girls gave up on the unreliable connection and talked or watched a movie together instead.

Soon all the returning students arrived on campus. The internet became elusive. One evening my teammate and I wandered around campus hunting for someplace, anyplace where we could find a wireless connection. We heard a rumor that a new router had been installed in the music building. We stuck to the trees and bushes and patches of shade as we walked that direction. After dashing across the lawn and leaping through the door, we opened laptop lids and waited. A grin and a high five. Success! We were the queens of the internet hill. But then came a group of boys. Apparently they had heard the rumor too. They found us huddled sneakily behind the ficus tree--perhaps the glowing blue light gave us away. But what times we had! The five of us chatted and joked behind the artificial ficus--all brought together by the thrill of the chase, and made friendly by the warmth of success.

Then came the day that the internet failed all together. For a week, there was no wireless to be found. Not in the broken elevator (holding the left ear between two fingers and extending the elbow to the southeast). Not behind a ficus tree in the music building. Not under the table in the cafeteria. Not inside a rack of sweaters in the bookstore. The wireless connection had left us for good. This is when the curses against the god of technology grew louder. Students clamored. We rallied. We prepared to sacrifice our IT guys on a specially prepared table in the weight room. We had set up our own ipod touch app that would do the job nicely. Just as we all gathered round, ipods extended, ready to appease the technology god, the internet flickered on. There were mixed cheers and murmurs of disappointment. We untied the two men and let them go. We facebooked, we emailed, we myspaced, we IMed. We reconnected to the virtual world which has become so essential to our existence.

Today, there are no internet hunting parties roaming around campus. The lobby is usually empty. There are no jokes shared behind the artificial shrubbery. Everything is back to normal, and I'm not sure that I like it. There is nothing unexpected--we are not forced out of our comfort zone. Now there is internet surfing at the dinner table (via our new ipod touches) and games and music to entertain in every dull moment. Few people walk to class without some sort of gadget in their hand or ear. It saddens me that they are again too caught up in the artificial noises of their ipods and their impersonal pseudo-interactions to breathe deeply of the energy of autumn, even to start a conversation with the person walking next to them. In many senses, I lament the re-establishment of handy technology.

my new life in the midwest

Early this week I left home for the second year of my time at college. This time my family and I began our trip in the mountains, descended into hundreds of miles of flat sagebrush with scattered cows, and finally finished in a place surrounded with thousands of acres of corn and soybean fields. And here I am, in a place completely different from anywhere I have ever lived before. I have moved into my spacious dorm room, which I will have all to myself this year. I had become rather accustomed to sharing my room, so this is a little weird for me, but I am sure it will be nice to have one place on campus that is all my own.

I spent my weekend with the mens and womens soccer teams, as well as my new volleyball team. We all went to a youth camp (which has finished with its summer camps) where we worked out constantly. The heat and humidity are really new for me, and I can't say they are my favorite. There is nothing quite like conditioning sessions in sand when the bugs and the sweat and the heat and the physical exertion all come together to leave you a disgusting, sandy, sticky mess. I looked like a monster most of the weekend. Overall, though, the time was good. I am excited for this coming season.

Meanwhile, we embark on a week of three-a-days. This entails an hour of conditioning in the morning, followed by a quick breakfast then two hours of practice, then a break for lunch and another practice in the afternoon. Late this week, orientation will begin and we will be down to two-a-day practices. Next week brings the start of classes as well as our first game.

The school year is already off to a rousing beginning. I only hope my weary muscles will carry me through this week... starting with two miles of running hills in the morning.

and then there's me...

Celebrities: I've never followed them, which is why I was rather surprised to find myself having a conversation about them earlier this week. As I pulled some knowledge of the stars from the clutter of facts in my brain, I began to realize how truly inconsequential these people truly are and how very little I care about them.

On the same note, I love to listen to music. The genre doesn't really matter, I enjoy listening to and critiquing and savoring all kinds of music. Earlier this week I was on one of my frequent sibling chauffeur runs (and of course sampling some music) when I switched between radio stations. I went from yet another break-up song to one of my favorite praise songs. I was struck by the contrast. Sure, I suppose breaking up is a big deal, but it is absolutely nothing when compared with the greatness of the God that demands all our strength, mind, love, and worship.

I live in a culture that is contently obsessed with the unimportant.

This morning I finished my devotions and picked up a book by John Piper, Don't Waste Your Life. I often find that nearly everything I read or hear relates in some way to the issue I happen to be pondering at the time. Today was no exception. Piper was discussing television, but really his message applies to most of today's popular culture. His references to TV can easily be replaced with music, fashion, and celebrity gossip.

"A mind fed daily on TV diminishes. Your mind was made to know and love God. Its facility for this great calling is ruined by excessive TV. The content is so trivial and so shallow that the capacity of the mind to think worthy thoughts withers, and the capacity of the heart to feel deep emotions shrivels... We have become almost incapable of handling any great truth reverently and deeply."

Piper then quotes Neil Postman, who says, "Television disdains exposition, which is serious, sequential, rational, and complex. It offers instead a mode of discourse in which everything is accessible, simplistic, concrete, and above all, entertaining. As a result, America is the world's first culture in jeopardy of amusing itself to death."

Next, Piper quotes David Wells: "It is one of the defining marks of Our Time that God is now weightless. I do not mean by this that he is ethereal but rather that he has become unimportant. He rests upon the world so inconsequentially as not to be noticeable. He has lost his saliency for human life. Those who assure the pollsters of their belief in God's existence may nonetheless consider him less interesting than television, his commands less authoritative than their appetites for affluence and influence, his judgment no more awe-inspiring than the evening news, and his truth less compelling than the advertisers' sweet fog of flattery and lies. That is weightlessness. It is a condition we have assigned him after having nudged him out to the periphery of our secularized life."

Finally, Piper draws a passage from Douglas Groothuis, which reads, "The triumph of the televised image over the word contributes to the depthlessness of postmodern sensibilities.... One cannot muse over a television program the way one ponders a character in William Shakespeare or C.S. Lewis, or a Blaise Pascal parable, or a line from a T.S. Eliot poem, such as 'But our lot crawls between dry ribs / to keep its metaphysics warm.' No one on television could utter such a line seriously. It would be 'bad television'--too abstract, too poetic, too deep, just not entertaining."

While my stance is a little different from these men, I do think that they have clearly outlined one of the problems of our modern culture. While I shake my head at the insignificance of the world's passions, the world is shaking its head at the irrelevance of my God. The continual pursuit of pleasure and ease has led to desires that are now satisfied by triviality. I pity a people that craves what popular culture gives. I find it funny that right now, within arm's reach, I have a Bible, a volume of Calvin's Institutes, and all of Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. These are the substance with which I fill my mind and soul. I wouldn't want it any other way.

the past few weeks

Recently I have taken the time to cherish my unemployment. I have a very open schedule this summer, perhaps for the last time ever, and I have been making the most of it. For one, I have been working out like nobody's business in preparation for volleyball this fall. Every morning I'm up and running or jumping or doing drills. Sometimes I do all three. At the same time. I've also taken plenty of time to read some fabulous novels. Recently I've been savoring works of fiction that are, rather ironically, filled with truths that are truer than life itself. I've finished my rereading of the Lord of the Rings trilogy and am currently enjoying the Chronicles of Narnia. Of course, I've also spent a good portion of time doing household chores like... washing dishes (who knew my family used so many dishes?!), yardwork, housecleaning, and (for the first time) cooking. That has been an incredible adventure. My dad calls me the mad chef. Enough said. In addition to all this, I've also found more than enough time to build up and enjoy some close friendships. I'm having an awesome summer.

Now it's time for some stories. I'll start with this morning.

I find incredible humor in the person whose mind takes a while to wake up. Fortunately, I am one of those people, so I am continually entertained. This morning, shortly after 3am, I was awakened from a sound sleep by some strange noises. As I was waking, I could think of only two concepts. They were "octogenarian" and "dodecahedron." I have no idea where those words came from. They are certainly not ones that I have used recently, if ever. I shuffled across my bedroom, amused at the misfirings between my ears. When I pulled up the blinds, I found neither octogenarians nor dodecahedrons. In fact, I found not one, not two, but three raccoons waddling around inside my window well. I sighed. This is the second time in two weeks that those critters have stumbled into my window well at 3am. I looked up and saw, profiled against the beautiful starry sky, three more raccoons. I had six confused rodents on my hands. One was digging its way out (the sound that had awakened me), another was trying to climb up my window screen, and another had its paw up on the window and was looking at me intently. I thought of lowering a two by four so that they could climb up, but frankly I was put out with them and didn't want to give them any help. That, and I didn't want to try to find a board in the dark and then chance getting attacked by six nervous coons. So I went back to bed. I hoped the crazy things were stuck until morning. As long as they didn't start their chirruping, I didn't mind them there. Raccoons are incredible little animals, though, and they were gone shortly. All six of them. =P

And now for yesterday...

Yesterday afternoon I felt remarkably caged in. I was stuck in the valley. The mountains were so tantalizingly close, and they had been calling me for several days, and yet I wasn't in them! It had been a full week since I had been up in the mountains, and I was going stir crazy. And so my mother and I packed some sandwiches for dinner and headed up into the mountains to do a little hiking. We drove up the most ridiculous road I have ever driven in my life. Of course it was narrow, not wide enough for two cars to pass. When we met a car, I pulled off near the edge of a ravine and they pulled off next to a bluff and we held our breaths as we inched past each other. But wait, it only gets better! After a while, we hit a truly awful old logging road. All the dirt had long since been washed away by the spring runoff, and the road was nothing more than a car-sized track of uneven and enormous rocks. We rattled along at 5-10mph until we finally reached the trailhead. The trail was pretty easy,


the wildflowers were breathtakingly beautiful,

and the temperature was perfect. We hiked back to some lakes and ate our dinner, then headed out. But of course, no hike is complete without sustaining some sort of injury. At least, that is how my hikes always seem to go. You would think I would start carrying bandaids, but no. This time, my doom came when I jumped out of a tree I had been climbing. A broken branch was sticking sneakily out of a bush, and as I neared the ground, my shin scraped nicely against the jagged end. I did some hollering, then we continued our hike. I don't know about you, but for me there is something immensely satisfying about emerging from the woods with a branch sticking out of your leg and sporting a tasteful amount of blood. Of course, after the branch has been discarded and the scrape washed up, you never feel quite so intrepid.

And that has been some of my summer. =)

the finish line

This summer I have been struggling through a challenging physical training regimen in preparation for volleyball season in the fall. I do conditioning four times a week, weightlifting three times a week, and core strength building four times a week. Today was a daunting but fairly easy conditioning session with a handful of various sprints to complete, each in a given number of seconds. I made it through that one alright. Next week I face a considerably harder workout, which begins with a 2:50 800m sprint, followed by some more hideous tasks, and culminated by 4 500m sprints each to be completed in under 95 seconds, with 90 seconds of rest between each one. GAH! These longer sprints are rigorous, mentally and physically. I often find that right around 300m my breathing becomes more labored and my legs begin to get heavier. It takes a tremendous effort of body and will to press on. Without fail, as I run I look up toward the finish line and fix my gaze on it. With the end result in sight it becomes infinitely easier to power through the weakness and ultimately leap (or stagger, as is more often the case) over that blessed finish line.

Though this training is yielding physical and mental strength and endurance, there is also a direct parallel to my spiritual life. Life just isn't easy. Sometimes it feels like you've hit that 300m mark--you are weary and struggling and don't want to go on. Hmmmm... would a focus help? Perhaps a glimpse of the finish line? I found this tremendous passage a few nights ago in my devotions. Fix the eyes of your soul upon this glorious prospect, found in Isaiah 25:6-9.

"On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare
a feast of rich food for all peoples,
a banquet of aged wine--
the best of meats and the finest of wines.

On this mountain he will destroy
the shroud that enfolds all peoples,
the sheet that covers all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.

The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears
from all faces;
he will remove the disgrace of his people
from all the earth.
The Lord has spoken.

In that day they will say,
'Surely this is our God;
we trusted in him, and he saved us.
This is the Lord, we trusted in him;
let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.'"

Ladies and gentlemen, the finish line of faith. Isn't it a beautiful thing?

news, anybody?

Last night I was online for my daily BBC fix, when a bizarre headline caught my eye: "Stoned Wallabies Make Crop Circles." No joke. This article is taken directly from the BBC website.

"Australian wallabies are eating opium poppies and creating crop circles as they hop around 'as high as a kite', a government official has said.

"Lara Giddings, the attorney general for the island state of Tasmania, said the kangaroo-like marsupials were getting into poppy fields grown for medicine. She was reporting to a parliamentary hearing on security for poppy crops.

"Australia supplies about 50% of the world's legally-grown opium used to make morphine and other painkillers.

"'The one interesting bit that I found recently in one of my briefs on the poppy industry was that we have a problem with wallabies entering poppy fields, getting as high as a kite and going around in circles,' Lara Giddings told the hearing. 'Then they crash,' she added. 'We see crop circles in the poppy industry from wallabies that are high.'

"Rick Rockliff, a spokesman for poppy producer Tasmanian Alkaloids, said the wallaby incursions were not very common, but other animals had also been spotted in the poppy fields acting unusually. 'There have been many stories about sheep that have eaten some of the poppies after harvesting and they all walk around in circles,' he added.

"Retired Tasmanian poppy farmer Lyndley Chopping also said he had seen strange behaviour from wallabies in his fields. 'They would just come and eat some poppies and they would go away,' he told ABC News. 'They'd come back again and they would do their circle work in the paddock.'

"Some people believe the mysterious circles that appear in fields in a number of countries are created by aliens. Others put them down to a human hoax."

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better (I mean, it isn't every day that you see an article that includes both wallabies and crop circles...), I looked at some of the comments left by readers. Here are a few:

"I have seen a stoned wallaby but I don't know about them making crop circles. The one I saw was slurring his words and asking me for a dollar as he was trying to get the boat to see his brother in New Zealand - he looked in no mood to be formulating a series of complex agricultural design patterns."
Dijon, Hobart, Tasmania

"I resent this report that we are high as a kite and making crop circles! I haven't been stoned since 1971. A few young hoppers eat the wrong plant and you trash our species in the news. What's this world coming to!"
Wally Baby, Australia Bush

"The question should be whether or not those law breaking wallabies should be brought to justice for indulging in illegal substances. The law makes no exceptions for no-one no matter what their excuse is or even what species they may be. They are not setting an example for their joeys nor for any other marsupials and I fear this could become an epidemic of outback size proportions."
Phil, Edinburgh

"I've lived in Tasmania for many years. Not only do wallabies congregate in poppy fields, but also on the local golf courses. They do this mainly at night and I can only assume they're playing several rounds of golf while avoiding greens fees. You only need to be really worried when one of the stoned wallabies gets into a golf buggy."
John Larson, Launceston, Tasmania, Australia

a good quote and a great insult:

The following humorous observation is made by the protagonist of the novel, who happens to be hiding up a tree. He had painstakingly covered his tracks and climbed from the branch of one tree to the branch of another, only to be discovered quite on accident by one of his pursuers:

"I was obliged to admire my cuteness in foreseeing this very thing and swapping trees to beat it. But, don't you know, there are some things that can beat smartness and foresight? Awkwardness and stupidity can. The best swordsman in the world doesn't need to fear the second best swordsman in the world; no, the person for him to be afraid of is some ignorant antagonist who has never had a sword in his hand before; he doesn't do the thing he ought to do, and so the expert isn't prepared for him; he does the thing he ought not to do, and often it catches the expert out and ends him on the spot. Well, how could I, with all my gifts, make any valuable preparation against a near-sighted, cross-eyed, pudding-headed clown who would aim himself at the wrong tree and hit the right one? And that is what he did. He went for the wrong tree, which was, of course, the right one by mistake, and up he started."
-Mark Twain, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

one to add to your reading list

"And then, last but the reverse of least, there plunged in all the people who think they can solve a problem they cannot understand by abolishing everything that has contributed to it. We all know these people. If a barber has cut his customer's throat because the girl has changed her partner for a dance or donkey ride on Hampstead Heath, there are always people to protest against the mere institutions that led up to it. This would not have happened if barbers were abolished, or if cutlery were abolished, or if the objection felt by girls to imperfectly grown beards were abolished, or if the girls were abolished, or if heaths were abolished, or if dancing were abolished, or if donkeys were abolished. But donkeys, I fear, will never be abolished.

"There were plenty of such donkeys in the common land of this particular controversy. Some made it an argument against democracy, because poor Garge was a carpenter. Some made in an argument against Alien Immigration, because Misysra Ammon was a Turk. Some proposed that ladies should no longer be admitted to any lectures anywhere, because they had constituted a slight and temporary difficulty at this one, without the faintest fault of their own. Some urged that all holiday resorts should be abolished; some urged that all holidays should be abolished. Some vaguely denounced the seaside; some, still more vaguely, proposed to remove the sea. All said that if this or that, stones or sea-weed or strange visitors or bad weather or bathing machines were swept away with a strong hand, this which had happened would not have happened."
-G.K. Chesterton, The Flying Inn

musings about heaven

During the school year I was blessed to have a very wise pastor and professor as my mentor. Through the course of the year he nurtured me and challenged me spiritually and mentally, talking me through the closure of my school and my hopes and dreams and visions for the future, as well as all the happenings of everyday. God used him mightily in my life this year.

Near the beginning of the year my mentor asked me this question: "In heaven, what memories will we retain? Will we keep only our good memories, leaving the painful and sin-tainted memories behind? Or will we remember everything about our time on earth--including the painful and 'bad' memories?"

Wow. Talk about a deep question. I have been pondering the mysteries of heaven for about a year now, and though I won't really reach a full knowledge in this life, I have finally formulated a bit of an answer, and I'd like to throw it out there. I'd even like to know what you think of my theory.

First of all, I don't think that heaven will be Edenic. In fact, I believe that it will be better than Eden, and like Lewis, I believe that heaven will become increasingly better each "day" (or however it is that we measure time in heaven). We will not be like Adam and Eve. We will be better, and ever improving. And here is why--it is because of pain. Good is rendered much richer because of the bad that is in this world. In Eden, there was life. In our world, we have death, but it is only because of death that we experience the glories of resurrection! Because of the evil that is in the world, the good grows ever stronger. This effect of evil upon good is so engraved upon us that I cannot imagine a world where there is good without evil. How can there be a consummate good without some triumph over a consummate wickedness? How can there be paradise without tears which are first wiped from our eyes? This is the result of our fortunate fall. In Eden there was life. In heaven there is resurrection.

So the answer to the question on which I have been gnawing is this: we will retain all of our memories of the evil and brokenness of this world, but these memories will be of a wickedness that no longer has any power. Our memories of death and sorrow will serve only to enhance the richness of our eternal joy. It is the truest and highest story of divine comedy, one that is echoed and reechoed in this world today. Heaven will be the fulfillment of all that this world was meant to be, and its beauty will only be magnified by the evil that was once but has since been vanquished.

In heaven there will be the memory of pain. However, that memory will have no power to mar, but only to enhance the glory of paradise.

goin' back east! (part 2)

This is the continuation of my first spring break account, for those of you who missed that one. I realize this is really long and you may not care, so feel free to skim or to only look at the pictures. Here it goes:

Our fourth day of the trip was epic. It started, for me, with an epic breakfast of granola, followed by an epically hair-raising trip through morning traffic with our caravan of three courageous minivans. Soon, however we were safely arrived in downtown Philadelphia. That was epic.

We visited several places that are just good places to visit. For example, Independence Hall...





The Liberty Bell (Independence Hall is in the background):



...and the original courthouse/meeting place of congress. Those were pretty sweet. If you get a chance to see them, do it. They're awesome, and very inspiring for the imagination.

After a few more stops, we were once more set free on some purposeful, planned wandering. That was a lot of fun. We looked at Alexander Hamilton's first and second national bank and mailed some postcards from Benjamin Franklin's original post office. We also stopped and bought some philly cheese steaks, which was probably almost my favorite part. If Independence Hall was glorious for the mind and imagination, those sandwiches were glorious for the stomach. It was amazing. On the way to one destination we passed this amusing little shop:


I want a hoopskirt.

We also stopped at another cemetery, this time one that contained the graves of Benjamin Franklin and Benjamin Rush. Like most of the older cemeteries, the headstones were close together, often plain and thin, and sometimes ornate and beautiful.


That evening we stopped at Valley Forge. The miserable cabins were small with cramped bunks and drafty walls. Those camps were so awful--it was obvious why so many men died of exposure that winter.

On the way out we looked at the chapel of Valley Forge. It was exquisitely beautiful in that evening light.









The next day began pretty early, with all of us actually driving down the road at 6:30am. I was the navigator for the lead van, and I handled the responsibility pretty well I think. The stress of the position didn't keep me from catching up on my sleep, at any rate. Despite the blaring bluegrass and my professor's attempts at serious conversation, I continually nodded off, awoke and gave some directions from the mapquest sheet that had fallen to the floor from my lap, then repeated the process until we finally reached Mount Vernon--the home of George Washington and the destination of thousands of shouting middle-schoolers.




At Mount Vernon, we were immediately on our own. I spent my day wandering throughout that enormous and beautiful estate--mostly alone, sometimes with a favorite professor--simply enjoying the beauty and solitude of that gorgeous place. The home itself was beautiful, with its decorated rooms, and a giant, peaceful back porch facing the Potomac River. The dining room was painted a sickening yellow, because Washington believed that the color aided digestion. Who knew? But the grounds!! The estate was complete with gardens and orchards and stables and threshing floors and a shoe shop and smokehouse and gardener's home and small costumed women...


The estate was completely autonomous. Everything that Washington could have needed was there on the plantation. The same was the case with Thomas Jefferson's home, Monticello, which we visited the next day.


You really can tell a lot about a person from visiting their home. I truly understand far better who these founders are that we hear so much about.

Our final two days were spent in Washington D.C., somewhere I had never been but always planned on going someday. While there we looked at the big things like the capitol building:


The National Archives (where the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution are kept) and the Library of Congress (where the Gutenberg Bible was on display). We went to the Lincoln, Washington, and Jefferson Memorials, the Holocaust Museum, various Smithsonian buildings, the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial,


Ford's Theater (where we watched a wonderful musical), and Arlington National Cemetery (where we watched the changing of the guards at the tomb of the unknown soldier).




My crew almost missed our plane out of DC because we didn't really have time to visit Arlington, and to top it off I failed my security screening and had to be patted down and thoroughly checked. I really did almost miss my flight. That would have been a cool story, eh? Haha... ah.

All in all, it was a pretty sweet trip (far more fun to actually go on than to blog about, though). I think the only downside was the fact that my feet were suicidal by the end of the trip--Chucks are not the best shoes for that much walking. I have so many awesome stories and random facts and thoughts about the founders that I would love to share, but I have not the patience to blog them out. So you'll just have to start a conversation with me if you're really interested (I add that caveat because my sister often isn't interested and she gets the full-length speeches anyway. Consider yourself warned.)

That's all for my Founding Era trip. Thanks for your patience, I hope you enjoyed reading (or skimming, as the case may be) my account. Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.

goin' back east!

Over my spring break, as many of you know, I had the opportunity to do a history "field study," which is basically a glorified field trip--just way cooler. My America's Founding Era class (about 21 people... actually, just 21 people for sure.) headed to the east coast to visit all the places we had been talking about in class. It was glorious. I have decided that I absolutely have to split this account up into a few posts, because I simply have far too many things to say. I understand that there are some people who are interested in this post and will want to read the whole thing, while others frankly don't really care. Feel free to skim; I won't be offended. In fact, I even included pictures so you can skip the words altogether.

Our trip started on a Friday night with a bus trip to a nearby airport and a red-eye flight to the East Coast. It was my first official all-nighter, and I handled it pretty well, I think. After trying every conceivable (and inconceivable) physical distortion without finding a comfortable napping position, I spent most of the wee hours before sunrise talking quietly with the classmate next to me. We probably annoyed the people sleeping around us, but they looked really funny trying to sleep in those tiny seats anyway, so it's all okay. I think that our conversation warded off my usual sleep-deprived grumpiness. Either that or God was watching out for my fellow travelers and decided to protect them from the tired Kimberlee. At any rate, we finally arrived in cold, windy Boston and hit the ground running. We saw lots of things. More specifically, we visited Bunker Hill, Paul Revere's home, the Old North Church (where Revere place the lantern signals), and the USS Constitution ("Old Ironsides"). Cool fact about the USS Constitution: the gun deck of this ship (which is still operable, by the way) has lots of cannons on it. Each cannon, managed by 19 sailors, weighed almost three tons, and shot a 24-pound cannon ball about 1,200 yards. When it shot, the cannon recoiled backwards at 35-40mph, traveling about 9 feet. That is just insane to me. Can you imagine being on that deck in a naval battle? Crazy.


After all our formal sightseeing, we students were handed a subway map and set loose to do whatever we wanted. Since I was so close, I hopped on the subway with a couple other girls and went to Harvard to do some studying. No big deal, you know, just studying at Harvard. But wow, was the architecture beautiful! I have a thing for brick buildings, and I felt like I had died and gone to brick building heaven. Pictures really don't do that place justice (and I only took one picture), so I'll just show you a picture of one residence hall.

Wow. I could handle those dorms. After a few more afternoon adventures, I was finally able, after 47 hours without sleep, to get some rest. It was fabulous.

The next morning, Sunday, we all attended a church service together before visiting Lexington and Concord and Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, where Thoreau, Hawthorne, Alcott and Emerson were buried. It was a beautiful cemetery, and, well, those authors are buried there.






Cool stuff. But next--oh that glorious next--we visited Walden Pond. It too, was just amazing. It was probably my imagination, but one could almost feel the creative inspiration seeping from the secluded land and water.



I've been there. It rocked.

The next day we visited the home of John Adams, which didn't technically open to tourists for another month. They opened it just for us, however, and we got a 2-hour private tour of his home and... library. Adams' library was the telos of libraries the world over. That fireproof building of bricks, slate, and granite holds 12,000 volumes in 13 different languages. The room was just books, floor to ceiling, all the way around the room. The shelves, we were told, were even stacked 2-3 books deep. It was intense. Here is one wall:


It has been said that Adams was a very critical reader, and made avid use of his margin space. Sometimes, our guide told us, the impassioned Adams scrawled the word "FOOL" across the pages of his books. Many of the books in this library bear his extensive marginalia.

The library rests in the middle of a beautiful garden full of trees and flowers and roses. In the summer, we were told, the windows can be opened to admit a cool ocean breeze and the scent of flowers. Ah, I could have died there. Or lived there. Either one works. Of course, the house and the stories and the tour were also cool. For example, the bells that summoned the servants--one for each person in the house.


Also, the crazy heavy-looking irons, which were heated by the stove:


Note also the Adams' washing machine (behind the stove pipe):


That concludes the third day of our trip. All the best really is yet to come. I may or may not tell you about it, depending on my level of motivation. Travel posts are just hard work.

novels and women

This past weekend I arose at 3:30am, ate an apple, and saw a raccoon.

After that, three good friends and I drove to a nearby mountain to climb 2.5 miles essentially straight up to the peak. The intention was to watch the sunrise from the crest, to enjoy the view of three prominent mountains and the ocean at dawn. However, after pantingly booking it up the side of the mountain, we found ourselves inside a blustering, foggering, freezing cloud. We sat at the top of the mountian, split a power bar four ways, and looked at the ice-coated landscape... that is, about ten feet of the landscape, before it disappeared into the cloud. Needless to say, we couldn't really tell that the sun had risen, and all of our exposed skin was turning numb, so we skidded back down the mountain face and into the shelter of the forest below. It was really a fantastic hike. I could not have picked more awesome people to hike with, the morning was invigorating, we saw a grouse (?) doing his little mating dance/song, and we stopped at a logging camp for breakfast and ate cinnamon rolls the size of our faces. Literally. On the way up, however, at around 4:15am, our conversation was scintillating, and I made a really astounding connection quite eloquently. My comment may have just seemed profound because it was uttered at such an ungodly hour, but I think it is worthy of a blog post.

This past week I finished a research paper that is worth an incredibly large part of my final grade. My topic was education--more specifically, the sort of education that the founders thought was proper for America. During the course of my research, I discovered that Benjamin Rush and Thomas Jefferson both clearly believed women should not read novels. They observed that women would read novels and become so caught up in the epic worlds of which they read that they would find no beauty or joy in the real world. In other words, women would be unable to feel at all unless moved by the impossibly great things of which they read. I found this very interesting. I was taught literature from the completely opposite view. To borrow shamelessly from another's blog post,

"Tolkien and Lewis believed that poetry restores reality to its mythic proportions, that we are living an epic, a lyric truth, a narrative where every action has vast consequence. Reading a myth or a poem causes the enchantment of the daily to come forth, making us conscious of it anew.”
-Christine Perrin

Literature, to me, brings out the greatness of the seemingly mundane. I personally have consistently found the above principle to be true. However, I can certainly see the founders' point. For example...
The Twilight series irritates me considerably. Partly because I can no longer use the beautiful word twilight in normal conversation, but mostly because it has raised up a generation of embarrassing female fanatics. Girls idolize Edward Cullen. They complain that real men are not good enough, because no man can meet the impossibly high standards that girls take from this fictional character. I have seen far too many young women become so enamored with a sparkling vampire that they overlook the goodness and beauty and powerful chivalry that can be found in the character of real human men. This repulsive breed of Twilighters is exactly what Rush and Jefferson feared. Their fear was certainly justified, but I don't think that they addressed it appropriately. I propose (though really it is my excellent literary training proposing through me) that women should read, and read extensively. However, they should approach literature with the correct mindset. My mindset. Actually, the mindset of Lewis and Tolkien, outlined above. They are far more weighty personalities than I am. Without using literature as a tool to bring out the epic in everyday life, thousands of girls will become blind to what is real because they see only the epic as something detached from real life. They will reject a man because he is not Edward, rather than using the Edward to see the good in a man.

and then they came...

...the shuddering sobs of a little girl, her face pressed to her daddy's chest, her hands squeezing the wrinkles in his shirt. Her little body shook. Her heart was breaking, but she felt the arms of her daddy holding her tight, wrapped all the way around her, and knew that he was big enough to fix any problem that was too big for her.

I was that little girl. I remember that feeling that all was wrong with the world. But I also remember knowing that everything would be okay as long as my dad was there. He could do anything. He was my dad.

But as I grew older, I began to realize that there were some problems that couldn't be fixed. Not even by my dad. There were some things out of his control, but it was still good to have him around. I remember the day before I left for college, with all my boxes packed, all my spaces in my house empty. I ran to my dad when he got home from work and he just held me while I cried.

Today as I sit here I face so many things that I wish my dad could just fix. I wish I didn't have to worry about finding a job this summer. I wish I didn't have to say goodbye to all my dear friends. I wish I knew what campus I would be stepping onto in a few months. Right now, I wish I could just cling to my dad and know that everything would be alright.

the goodbye is coming

As I draw near the end of my school year, I should be extremely overwhelmed with all the projects that are rapidly coming due. I have five papers due in the next two weeks, which is incredibly stressful. As these deadlines approach, however, I am not really focusing on the schoolwork, but on the abrupt end that will follow all these due dates. I have entered a phase of sad, sweet mourning for my school.

Today I was thinking... how can I possibly explain this school to an outsider, to someone who has never experienced its unique culture? There is really no way to describe the incredible sense of being a part of this family. In one walk across campus (unless you have been here, you have no idea how short that walk really is), you are sure to be greeted by about ten people and hugged by six. Professors' doors are always, always open. Students enter those offices far less to discuss academics than they do to simply talk about life. I have done my fair share of talking to professors about life, and I have become a much better person for it. The professors are warm and loving, and it truly shows.

This afternoon I spent several hours just working outside in the sun. I talked to many students walking between classes or just wandering around campus, then worked for an hour with a friend who is also on the maintenance crew. I actually sincerely enjoyed work today because I could just talk and laugh and savor my friendships with all the people on campus.

At dinner immediately following, I sat alone to finish some overlooked reading before my 6pm class. Within 10 minutes, I was joined by 8 people carrying plates of food--some close friends, some average acquaintances. I didn't finish the reading, but I don't regret it. The time spent bonding and laughing was worth the quiz points I might lose. The spirit of this school is so alive and dynamic and... amazing. I can't begin to tell you what makes up our unique culture, what has led to all the deep friendships I have developed, and how very much I love everyone on this campus. There is no real division between the in and out groups, no barrier to communication between professors and students--there is just us, the collective body of this college.

As a side note, for those of you who are concerned, I am studying and learning at this school (remember the five papers part of this post?), but the education is so very much richer because it occurs in the context of such powerful relationships.

In a few weeks this spirit will be snuffed. The amazing people I have grown to love will be scattered to the four winds. Knowing that my time here is so limited makes my last weeks so meaningful and yet so sad. Here is to joy in the midst of pain; to those realizing that death is surely coming, but that resurrection must just as surely follow.

and this is art.

This year I have really taken to international news, for some reason. These days, every night before I go to sleep I listen to an hour of news. It was during my daily BBC session that I heard this interesting story that I am about to share.

This story actually comes out of the Netherlands, which doesn't surprise me, because some very strange things come from that country (present company excepted, of course). A Dutch artist named Johan van der Dong has set up this project in an art show which he calls "God's Hotline." For the next six months, anyone can call the cell phone number 0031-644244901 and hear this voicemail: "This is the voice of God. I am not able to speak to you at the moment, but please leave a message." Do it. Then tell me about it, please. I find it ironic that he chose a cell number to show that God was available anywhere, at any time, and yet you always get the answering machine. Unless, of course, God is in on this and really answers the phone. That is yet another reason to do this. And then tell me about it.

Johan says that he isn't trying to mock or offend anyone, but simply to spark some debate about the perception of religion in the modern world. Already well over a thousand messages have been left. However, no one is going to listen to these messages, because they are between the caller and God. Fortunately, plenty of people have commented on the news story on the BBC website, so we can all get a feel for the public reaction. I looked at a few of the comments, because I was curious.
They ranged from atheistic:

"I don't believe in you."

...to agnostic:

"Hey there God, I'm not at all sure you exist... but I'm leaving a message, in case you do."

...to sincere cries from the heart, though these were by far the minority:

"Please God, have mercy on the Palestinians and free them from Jewish oppression in Israel"

"My dearest Elohim, You alone are God, you have made the heavens and the earth, I marvel always at your creative genius, your limitless power. You have predestined me to bear witness of your majesty and glory, to that calling I will always be true. You truly do love me inspite of my sin. You have embraced me tenderly and led me to eternity."

...to questioning:

"If God really did exist and was intelligent, would he keep the world strung along as long as he has giving no clues, no visible signs or proof that he is real? In the mean time people are still clinging to some hope passed down through ever changing stories about the greatest story ever told. I suggest it's the greatest lie ever told. If you do exist, Mr. God, then you are one cruel and mean old man in light of the terrors going on in this world. You leave us all confused with a bunch of lies."

"Are you straight or gay?"

...to comic:

"FINAL NOTICE: this universe has been parked illegally in this continuum. It will be towed without further notice at your expense. After 2000 years impounded universe will be deemed abandoned and will be disposed of."

"You should really do your work better. I am giving you a very low customer satisfaction score."

...to antagonistic:

"You're a complete charlatan and we shouldn't even mention your name in the same sentence as 'love' and 'caring.' You're totally evil."

Was this the reaction you expected? What would you say if you left a message for God?

another one bites the dust

This week is one of those weeks where you just take a shoehorn to your planner and try to get as much done as possible every day, and never feel like you have done enough (hence the shameful lack of blog posts). I have a feeling that the rest of my semester is going to be much like this week. I found myself, Sunday night, wearily closing my planner and sighing, "no crisis can happen this week, my schedule is far too full." Well, wouldn't you know it...

This morning I woke up at seven so I could do my homework all morning until I had to work. After a night of terrible sleep, I woke with a high fever and a splitting headache and a horrible hacking cough and other pleasant symptoms like that. My day has been miserable, but I have to say that I have never felt so blessed as I do tonight. While I was absolutely knocked out in a nap, my mom called and offered the comfort that only a mother can give to a sick child. I felt so loved when I listened to that message. My manager gave me today and tomorrow off work without hesitation. And when I backed out of plans to work out with a friend, she showed up at my door with my favorite food on earth--an amazing smoothie. How did she remember that I love smoothies so much, especially when I'm sick and can't eat anything else? I don't know, but... wow.

God has just blessed me so incredibly much. Of course, having something that feels like the Black Death and pneumonia and the Bubonic Plague and who knows what all else is not very enjoyable, but God gave me the focus to finish my homework today and incredible caring people everywhere I look.

Please pray that I get well soon because next week is my midterm for my disgustingly hard senior history class, and I'd definitely like to do well. For now, I'll just get some good, wholesome sleep, and hope I feel better for my 8am test. =P

rockstar slash mountain man...

Sometimes it's just good to take a break. To get out of the city and kick off those shoes and splash around in a creek, just because it is sunny. And February (of course). This past weekend, after a stressful week and college visit slash volleyball tryout, I was able to spend my winter break by heading home with two dear friends of mine. I spent four days with them and their parents, and I definitely had a blast. In those four days we girls just took a break from the stress of school life. We hiked, we slipped in the mud,and we clambered behind a waterfall. We crossed creeks by jumping from stone to stone, wading, pole vaulting, and balancing on fallen trees. We laughed, we played games, we ate good food, we watched movies, we hiked some more, we played frisbee golf, we talked, we had a bonfire near their house and roasted marshmallows, we took a walk in the rain... In short, it was just a fabulous weekend with wonderful friends. I definitely praise God for his beautiful creation that I got to enjoy this weekend, and the wonderful people that I know. God's blessings are awesome.

the sixburgh steelers

This past Sunday I had the opportunity to sit down with a group of friends and watch the Superbowl for the first time in my life. Sad, I know, but now I am a true American. And what a game! Wow. You probably all heard that the mayor of Pittsburgh officially renamed the city for one day. For twenty-four hours, Pittsburgh became Sixburgh, in honor of the unprecedented six-time Superbowl champions, the Steelers. One does wonder if the political powers that be don't have better things to do.

I wanted to wish you a happy Friday by sharing with you one of my favorite ads of the entire game. It is memorable in its ridiculosity.



Have a great weekend everyone!

a scientific era

"To Science"
Science! True daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
-Edgar Allen Poe

I love this poem. I first read it in class a few years ago, but I didn't think it anything special then. Since that time, however, I have really come to appreciate it. I might even count it as one of my favorites.

Poe is, through his poem, lamenting the constant advance of science. This march of cold facts and reason has wrought irreparable havoc on the world of fantasy and imagination. Forests are now viewed in terms of soil nutrients and photosynthesis, when they were once viewed as the homes of naiads and dryads. Fairies have been debunked as archaic myth, and the mystery and awe of dragons has been confined to the study of dinosaurs and bone structures. I definitely agree with Poe that science and enlightenment influence has deprived our world of much of its beauty. I still think in terms of fairies and dragons and dryads.

I am finding the same sickening onslaught of science in my study of psychology. Take, for example this quote from my textbook.
"You, your joys and sorrows, your memories and your ambitions, your sense of personal identity and free will, are in fact no more than the behavior of a vast assembly of nerve cells and their associated molecules. As Lewis Carroll's Alice might have phrased it, 'You're nothing but a pack of neurons.'"
-Geneticist Sir Francis Crick

Pardon me while I gag, then go off and have a good cry. This absolutely disgusts and saddens me!! Science has no room for souls. It cannot explain hopes and dreams and things like true love. It therefore reduces everything to chemical interactions between brain cells. Honestly, what is this world coming to? I'll take true love and naiads over hormones and chemical/electrical impulses any day. Care to join me in my outdated world?

hopes and dreams and plans

Over the past few months, I have applied to four colleges. As of right now, I have been accepted to three, and the fourth acceptance depends on my transcripts from my first semester, which are in the mail as I type. The odd thing is, I have been recruited by five colleges for volleyball, two of which I never even applied to! The next message I get on my phone from an interested college, I am going to throw a shoe at my coach. Thanks, coach, for making this decision easy for me. =P
Earlier this week I sat down with my mentor here at college and had a long talk about my academic and spiritual goals, my career goals, my dreams and hopes, God's leading in my life, and how to best follow it. That really helped me with thinking out my plans for next year, but still at the back of my head was that nagging worry... What am I going to do after this year? This is a big decision, how do I know that I'm making the right one? How do I make sure that my choice of a college is the best one? And then tonight, after a long, long week, I sat down for some Jesus time, and I read this familiar passage. It's always a good one, but it really spoke to me tonight. I'm thinking it will speak especially to some of you as well, so I'm going to share it now.

Luke 12:22-31
Then Jesus said to his disciples: "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds! Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?
"Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.

God is looking out for me, the worrier, the one of little faith. That is pretty cool! It doesn't mean that I'm just going to sit back and let things happen, though. I'm still going to research and consult and all that good stuff, but I am definitely resting in God and his plan for my life. He knows where I'm going, he knows what's best for me, and by lots of prayer and listening to his leading I'm hoping to make those two the same place. I would appreciate your prayers as I try to work out my college home for the next three or more years. Thanks all! =)

it's that time again, is it?

This past week I have done nothing, thought nothing, and read nothing. Hence, I have absolutely nothing to share with you today on my blog.

Actually, that isn't strictly true. If we are talking about complete honesty here, the truth is that I have expended so much effort on other things this week (such as classes, reading, writing papers, doing devotions, helping girls learn their choir parts, working, talking to friends, talking to myself, planning my school's winter formal, trying to decide whether or not, since I am required to be there anyway, I should go to formal with someone--yea, even a (gasp!) boy, talking to colleges, praying about colleges, talking to people about colleges, helping plan service projects etc.) that I have nothing left to devote to my blog. I am sure I have at least one original or inspiring thought somewhere inside that red head of mine, but it has declined comment for an indefinite period of time, leaving me with... nothing. Sigh. So what do I do? Tell jokes? Post a funny picture? Play the bagpipes? Talk endlessly about what I should or should not do? Heavens forfend!

I am afraid I have taken on a lot this semester (fortunately my parents aren't the "I told you so" type), so I'm not sure I'll be posting something every week. I will try hard not to neglect you all, but we'll just see what happens. In the meantime, if you desperately want to hear my voice of brilliance and wisdom, call me. It may be more reliable than my blog. =)

Read Psalm 71:14-24. It's pretty amazing. That's all.

what were you thinking?!

Last night I looked at my face in the mirror and asked myself just that question. I had recently returned from a meeting, before which I had attended an intense two-and-a-half hour class. This class was taught by three teachers, but the teacher of my discipline is rumored to be the toughest teacher on campus. The name Dr. Williamson usually causes students to either go a bit pale or to express deepest sympathies to those who are enrolled in any of his classes. Now, not only is this class a Williamson class (for me), but it is a senior-level course. WHAT WAS I THINKING? Repeatedly throughout this first class (which opened with a test and included a pop-quiz later) Dr. Williamson stressed that it was going to be a hard class and we needed to do work worthy of a 4000-level course. This is definitely no freshman class. Come to think of it, neither are my other classes.

I am taking seven classes this semester, only two of which are freshman-level courses. First comes my freshman Bible class: Acts--Life of the Early Church. Then comes a senior Bible class in which we read and write about 6 current events each week, discuss them as a group, take tests, and make brilliant connections between the Old Testament and the things happening in our world today. Then, another senior-level course, Marriage and Family Communication. This class is going to be super-awesome. It discusses the dynamics of interactions between family members, which will be not only a lot of fun, but also very helpful to an aspiring biblical counselor. My Comm III Research and Presentation class, sophomore level. This is basically a rhetoric course, with four speeches, some outside projects, some tests, and one biggish (7-10 page) research paper/presentation. And the hilarious professor really rocks my socks off, even though he's already decided to poke fun at me in every other illustration he makes. I think I'm just a make-funnable person. I'm also taking the sophomore level Psychology course, which... is your basic Psych II class. Ah yes, I am involved in the concert choir, both singing and playing piano, which is already quite a lot of fun. All the girls on my hall can probably hear strains of choir songs floating around whenever I take a shower. Poor girls! And finally, America's Founding Era. This is a class that can be taken for Bible, Literature, or History credit. I am taking it for History, from Dr. Williamson. This is the class I had last night, and it is going to be one awesome class! It will definitely be very, very challenging, but very good as well. In addition to all the fabulous primary-source history I get to study, this is a travel course. This March, I get to go to the East Coast! I get to watch a play in Ford's Theater! I get to visit Mount Vernon and John Adams' home! I get to go to DC! These are all things I planned on doing at some point anyway, and I am just thrilled that I get to do them now. Aw yeah!

Well, last semester my only complaint was that my course load was too easy, and not as intellectually challenging as I would have liked. My advisor let me stick my fingers in my schedule this time around, and now I am taking three senior and two sophomore classes. I definitely don't think I'll have the same problem this semester. Truly, I feel like I am back in high school again! How weird is that? =)

a thought for the classical mind:

"We are told that it is proper to begin first with the Latin, and, having acquir'd that, it will be more easy to attain those modern languages which are deriv'd from it. It is true that, if you can clamber and get to the top of a staircase without using the steps, you will more easily gain them in descending; but certainly, if you begin with the lowest you will with more ease ascend to the top; and I would therefore offer to the consideration of those who superintend the education of our youth, whether, since many of those who begin with the Latin quit the same after spending some years without having made any great proficiency, and what they have learnt becomes almost useless, so that their time has been lost, it would not have been better to have begun with the French, proceeding to the Italian, etc.; for, tho', after spending the same time, they should quit the study of languages and never arrive at the Latin, they would, however, have acquired another tongue or two, that, being in modern use, might be serviceable to them in common life."
-Benjamin Franklin, Autobiography

strong faith... with questions

"Sometimes the Bible really ticks me off." One of the things I like about Mr. V is that he isn't afraid to say exactly what he thinks. It was remarkably refreshing to hear that statement come from a devout, if rather crazy, man of God. Sometimes when I read my Bible, those are my thoughts exactly. Lately I have been reading the Bible through the eyes of a skeptic, even more than I usually do. Is it because a skeptical best friend is reading the Bible in an effort to make an honest evaluation of Christianity? Perhaps, but lately any scrap of paper within reach--bookmarks, bulletins, margins of my Bible, receipts from the grocery store, class notes, backs of envelopes--are bearing the marks of my ponderings.

Daniel 4:35 is one verse that gives me a little trouble and brings up a whole slough of questions. Is God above our moral standard? Is God the source of our moral standard? Are our human minds so depraved that we cannot comprehend God's ideal morality? Because God's behaviour sometimes doesn't make sense when evaluated by human standards of morality. How could God predestine or call some to be saved? Is that fair? Is God bound by fairness? Why does he place some people in nations where they almost certainly won't come to believe in Christianity? Is that fair? Shouldn't God give everyone a fair chance at salvation? What about all the children that die? Are they saved (yes, I am still struggling with this difficult question. I compiled a list of verses that talk about the age of accountability, and am pondering and pondering and pondering.)? What was the deal with Gentiles in the Old Testament? Could they be saved? To what extent was Israel God's chosen nation? Just because Gentiles living with the Israelites were required to live under God's law, does that mean that they were equal under the law? Or was that simply a part of a theocratic government?

These questions, and more, are all rattling around in my head, as are all the relevant philosophies and heresies and all that I ever learned in my Bible classes. It is like one of those infuriating triangle puzzles, where all the pieces are triangles. If you match one side of a triangle to the side of another, it changes whether or not all the other pieces will fit together in the end. All the pieces have to be arranged just right for things to fit nicely. I hate those puzzles. I've never been good at them. I wonder if all these related questions are really like that? If I answer yes to one question, I have to sift through what that answer means for all the other questions and it gets exhausting. At least I have something to keep me occupied in dull moments!

And then there is the question of the Bible's inerrancy. I was raised believing the Bible was totally infallible. And then I went to college. My Bible professor, my commentary, my test... all came from the viewpoint that the Bible was inspired, but because it was written through man, it contained numerous inaccuracies. Is it true? What is the importance of this question to Christianity as a whole? How does one explain the inconsistencies between the gospels? How does one explain away what appear to be mistakes? For that matter, why do we even have these 66 books in the canon of the Bible anyway? Actually, I learned that in 10th grade. Nevermind.
There are some inconsistencies which run even deeper, however. In Numbers 23:19, it says, "God is not a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill?" Obviously, these rhetorical questions are supposed to have the answer "no." But how can this be? What about all the times that God just about wipes out the Israelites, but is stopped by Moses? God spoke, promising to destroy that stiff-necked people and instead bless Moses' descendants. Moses, like a good leader, dissuaded God. But wait a minute... he dissuaded GOD!! Isn't that not supposed to happen? Isn't God unchangeable, and slow to anger? He shouldn't technically have gotten so upset with the Israelites so quickly anyway, much less threatened to destroy them, then let a man change His mind! Sometimes the Bible ticks me off.

You know, I really do think that had I only taken Mr. V's Bible classes, I would have been an atheist. I found more reasons to believe in God in the Spiderman movie I watched last night than in any of his classes! Perhaps he played the devil's advocate a little too well at times. However, he, and all of my teachers, gave me the skills to think these things out and to discover what I believed on my own. They gave me the skills to even know how to ask these questions. What a double-edged education, right? Sigh.

Thinking things out is rough, but I see progress. I am figuring out how I can believe in God's foreknowledge and in human free will at the same time. That was a question that bothered me for quite some time. I suppose, as Winnie the Pooh says, "think, think, think." That is what I am doing. These questions are the usually invisible undercurrent of my life. I suppose there will always be things about God that I don't understand. Right now there just seem to be a whole lot of them.