Our first response when we truly encounter God in all his holiness and ourselves in our essence is not a sense of delight but a sense of utter ruin. - JD Greer (paraphrased by me)
So this morning, I pulled out my handy dandy "Discovering the Enneagram" (Richard Rohr) book to re-evaluate, study, and attempt to continue a process of growing through, against, and into holier places in my personality, character, and core tendencies. For those of you not familiar with the Enneagram, it's well worth checking out... think improved MBTI, with hope for growth and change.
At any rate, the older I get, the more I am persuaded that I fall into one particular category... partially because I read through it and simultaneously identify with and loathe it. At once, my sin is identified, my weakness highlighted, and my battle laid forth. The lie that I believe is:
I produce, I achieve, therefore I am.
It is devastating. It's like looking in the mirror and seeing that huge zit that you knew was there but were adamantly pretending wasn't. Confrontation of reality. Yes, this is who I am. Yes, these are my core tendencies. And I'm good at it. And I'm comfortable with it.
When you look your sin in the face; when you see how far you are from holiness, the result is this sense of ruin. Utter and complete. I know it is lie. But woe is me, I still operate under these guiding principles. I am undone.
But fortunately for me, that is not the end of the story...
[They] "... long, sometimes without knowing it themselves, not only for praise and recognition, but for real love. They get so much applause for their successes that in the end they think that's all they want. It takes a long time before they understand that there is more than deserved recognition: unmerited, unconditional love." [Discovering the Enneagram, Richard Rohr]
And the beautiful part for me, is that as I look back over the last year, I can see how God has begun to write that redeemed narrative for me, where I am not defined by what I do, how much I succeed, what I can achieve, the applause of the multitudes, but by something far deeper. A type of love which is entirely unmerited, based not on what I can do, but completely unconditional. And to experience that is to long for it...
It is the freedom to fail.
It is the freedom to take risk.
It is the freedom to not be guarded, not pretend to be something that I am not.
It is the freedom to give and receive love freely.
I'm still on a journey. I'm still learning. I'm still growing. But I am not where I was a year ago... or even 6 months ago... and that's a good thing!
Here's to celebrating the little things...
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
In Gratitude
I started another blog post, complaining about something that I had seen-- an injustice committed, a human error left uncorrected-- but in the midst of it, I was struck by how entirely often I complain when I should be grateful. I point out wrongs when I should applaud qualities that are truly God-given. And I am critical when I should praise God for the good things that he is and will be doing through the situation, person, activity, or task.
Have mercy.
So, in light of that realization... and as a spiritual discipline...
Tonight, I am grateful for:
Have mercy.
So, in light of that realization... and as a spiritual discipline...
Tonight, I am grateful for:
- ... student leaders who get the mission and are 110% partners on campus
- ... students who are generous and quick to repent, who are faithful and eager to serve
- ... a boyfriend who is way wicked sweet and generous in unexpected ways
- ... a small group that has quickly moved from strangers to friends
- ... roommates who generate random giggles
- ... Tostito hint of lime potato chips
- ... working internet
- ... friends who both celebrate and cry with me (and invite me to both cry and laugh!)
- ... a job and bosses that care about how I'm doing spiritually and emotionally
- ... donors who have supported me to 91% of budget and pray for me faithfully
- ... living in a city with public transportation
- ... a sister who answers my phone calls, no matter how long it's been since I last called
- ... hot water
- ... cold weather and seeing my breathe in the air
- ... soft toilet paper
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Grab bag: of mice, sleep-deprived zombies, and the Phillies
It's been a while...
I have a few serious posts that I've been thinking about, but no time to actually write them, so that will have to wait for another rainy day. In the meantime, just a few things I've been thinking about lately.
- Mice match their environment. The mice that run around in the grime of the T tracks are different in color from those that run around in my apartment, as a result of their environment. I wonder if that's true for humans as well: our hues and personalities are colored by our surroundings.
- On cold days, people in the city tend to be less friendly that usual when outside, and more friendly that usual when inside.
- It is astonishing to me how many people in Boston are rooting for the Phillies in this World Series. It seems that hatred of one thing unites people to another thing. I wonder if this is also true in other areas of life. And I wonder if this is a good thing... or not.
- October is the month in which students decide that their lives are over, fear of failure sets in, sleep deprivation sets in, tests become more frequent, sickness more prevalent, and grouchy sick zombies start to walk the campus. By December, life returns to normal. This happens every October. I wonder how things would change, if we could hold perspective by remembering from the year prior? I wonder, on a larger scale, how much more hope we would have, if we held longer term memory in general...
I have a few serious posts that I've been thinking about, but no time to actually write them, so that will have to wait for another rainy day. In the meantime, just a few things I've been thinking about lately.
- Mice match their environment. The mice that run around in the grime of the T tracks are different in color from those that run around in my apartment, as a result of their environment. I wonder if that's true for humans as well: our hues and personalities are colored by our surroundings.
- On cold days, people in the city tend to be less friendly that usual when outside, and more friendly that usual when inside.
- It is astonishing to me how many people in Boston are rooting for the Phillies in this World Series. It seems that hatred of one thing unites people to another thing. I wonder if this is also true in other areas of life. And I wonder if this is a good thing... or not.
- October is the month in which students decide that their lives are over, fear of failure sets in, sleep deprivation sets in, tests become more frequent, sickness more prevalent, and grouchy sick zombies start to walk the campus. By December, life returns to normal. This happens every October. I wonder how things would change, if we could hold perspective by remembering from the year prior? I wonder, on a larger scale, how much more hope we would have, if we held longer term memory in general...
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Public Transportation
If you know me, you know that I love public transportation. A lot.
See, I think, in many ways, public transportation is the great equalizer of all people...
Tonight, riding home at rush hour, bodies crammed together without regard for "personal space," I was struck by how many different types people (who would never otherwise coalesce) were literally rubbings shoulders with one another.
Behind me, the two college-aged women, laughing at one another while secretly (but not so secretly) checking themselves out in the windows.
To my right, the woman wearing solely designer clothing, the latest hair styling and coloring, and the Gucci shoes, sitting next to the teenage boy who hadn't had a hair cut in months if not years, wearing thrift shop flannel and sneakers.
To my left, the autistic man, who was repeating "I'm not so awkward" in repetitions of threes and going into fetal position every time the T made a loud noise.
Down the car, the work-men in dust covered boots, standing alongside the business men in their spit polished leather shoes, next to the students in their odd assortment of fashion and "style," across from the tourists of all the world, awkwardly falling into one another as the T lurches and stalls, and the homeless woman, clutching her bags containing all of her possessions.
All breathing the same air and sharing the same space. For the commute of 5 minutes to an hour, all basically on a level playing field. All experiencing the same delays, germs, frustrations and crush of human flesh.
I'm not naive enough to assume that public transportation levels the playing field. In 15 minutes, the doors open and people stream out to their individual lives, many without even noticing, let alone engaging with, their fellow passengers. There are those who cannot afford even the $2.00 fare necessary to ride, and there are those who would never lower themselves enough to ride on public transport. But for a few brief moments, I can dare to dream.
And then the doors will open, and everyone will go their own way, into their own worlds, once more...
See, I think, in many ways, public transportation is the great equalizer of all people...
Tonight, riding home at rush hour, bodies crammed together without regard for "personal space," I was struck by how many different types people (who would never otherwise coalesce) were literally rubbings shoulders with one another.
Behind me, the two college-aged women, laughing at one another while secretly (but not so secretly) checking themselves out in the windows.
To my right, the woman wearing solely designer clothing, the latest hair styling and coloring, and the Gucci shoes, sitting next to the teenage boy who hadn't had a hair cut in months if not years, wearing thrift shop flannel and sneakers.
To my left, the autistic man, who was repeating "I'm not so awkward" in repetitions of threes and going into fetal position every time the T made a loud noise.
Down the car, the work-men in dust covered boots, standing alongside the business men in their spit polished leather shoes, next to the students in their odd assortment of fashion and "style," across from the tourists of all the world, awkwardly falling into one another as the T lurches and stalls, and the homeless woman, clutching her bags containing all of her possessions.
All breathing the same air and sharing the same space. For the commute of 5 minutes to an hour, all basically on a level playing field. All experiencing the same delays, germs, frustrations and crush of human flesh.
I'm not naive enough to assume that public transportation levels the playing field. In 15 minutes, the doors open and people stream out to their individual lives, many without even noticing, let alone engaging with, their fellow passengers. There are those who cannot afford even the $2.00 fare necessary to ride, and there are those who would never lower themselves enough to ride on public transport. But for a few brief moments, I can dare to dream.
And then the doors will open, and everyone will go their own way, into their own worlds, once more...
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Hell of our own making
inside a hell of my own making
sunlight outside,
I see the open door...
but somehow, I remain
inside the prison cell.
not bound by authority or sentence,
but by self-condemnation
and fear.
this has been my home for so long
these lies I believe,
these walls that I have built,
this has been my home for so long
that I do not know how to leave...
and I wonder, at times,
do I even want to?
or have I so acclimated to the darkness,
that I run away from the light?
open door,
still I remain
in the moldy, stark, dank
prison cell.
what is it that keeps you bound,
in a hell of your own making,
hiding from the Light...
sunlight outside,
I see the open door...
but somehow, I remain
inside the prison cell.
not bound by authority or sentence,
but by self-condemnation
and fear.
this has been my home for so long
these lies I believe,
these walls that I have built,
this has been my home for so long
that I do not know how to leave...
and I wonder, at times,
do I even want to?
or have I so acclimated to the darkness,
that I run away from the light?
open door,
still I remain
in the moldy, stark, dank
prison cell.
what is it that keeps you bound,
in a hell of your own making,
hiding from the Light...
Monday, October 5, 2009
Wisdom from Augustine
Shamelessly lifting this quote from one of the blogs that I read regularly:
"If you believe what you like in the gospel, and reject what you don't like, it is not the gospel you believe in, but yourself."
- St. Augustine
I need a bigger God than that... and my guess is that you do too.
"If you believe what you like in the gospel, and reject what you don't like, it is not the gospel you believe in, but yourself."
- St. Augustine
I need a bigger God than that... and my guess is that you do too.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Posts
