On Sadness and Doubt

The sadness of the world is that there is nothing so beautiful that it cannot be marred. No motive so noble that it cannot be tainted. No cause so pure that it cannot be perverted. It is this sadness that makes it so hard to try to live with your eyes open and your heart and mind engaged. Ultimately, it is this sadness that brings me doubt about my faith in it's softest, most beguiling and insidious form.

If Jesus' death and resurrection is more than our ticket to a glorious afterlife; if the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead now lives in us; and if our purpose here on earth is more than persuading people to move themselves from one category of person to another, then... why doesn't it seem to work? Personally and institutionally, Christians mess up at about the same rate as those around us. Our personal lives carry the same self-induced and other-induced pain. Our churches calcify into cultural edifices just like other institutions. Even those of us who look good usually do so by dint of hiding some darkness. The Church has done much good through the years, but it's also done some unspeakable evil (just like everybody else). So... what gives?

What do you think?

Note: in case anybody is worried, this is not a post about how I'm giving up on Christianity. I follow Jesus and will until I die. This is just a really important question for me, and I want to know what you think.

Before the resurrection there is the cross...

I haven't quite unpacked everything in this post, by Jeff Dunn at internetmonk.com yet, but it struck something really... profound for me. Tomorrow we celebrate His resurrection, but it's good to keep in mind that this isn't a strictly chronological event - He died, He rose again, and now we're past all that. In some way, Jesus' death, as well as His resurrection, remains a present reality.

Photo: By Joaquín Martínez Rosado (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Girls and their animals...

Yesterday on All Things Considered I heard this story, "Why do Girls Love Horses, Unicorns, and Dolphins?" (You can follow the link to read a text version, or listen to the story as it aired). I went through a "horse phase," as did so many other girls that I know. I had a cousin who loved all things dolphin. And unicorns... well, I'm still not out of my unicorn phase, and I don't know if I ever will be. I had not, however, thought of these animals as a connected group. But this story made me reconsider that. As the experts posited their opinions, I tried to see if I could come up with my own ideas about why girls love these animals. And I think I know why.

I think I know why. The problem is that I can't really articulate it. When I think about that grouping of animals, and how I feel about them, I can feel what it is that attracts the hearts nd minds of young females. I can feel it, but I don't know if I can explain it. So before I try, why don't you have a crack at it.

If you're a girl:

- does this trio ring some bells for you? Do you remember loving them, or do you now? Can you articulate this better?

And if you're male:

- have you observed girls' love affairs with these animals? Are you confused about it? Do you have any theories?

One final observation: I think that some girls are seriously gypped in their love of unicorns by inferior ideas about what a unicorn is. They all need to read something like "The Last Unicorn" .

*Picture By Yamavu [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-2.5 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

Weather

It's snowing here, on December 1 in central Indiana. A powdered sugar dusting lay on the ground when I took Landon to work before 8:00AM. Now, several hours later, it's still coming down. From the window the flakes look a little bigger, and the wind is blowing them around more.

I'm a little fascinated by weather, and by snow in particular. Walking outside during snowfall or dashing through cold rain always gives me a strange feeling of otherness. It's a feeling of being present in a system that is in no way dependent upon me for it's continued function. Living as I do in the city, I'm surrounded by the changes that we humans have made to the natural landscape in order to be able to survive and thrive on the surface of our planet. Weather is a reminder to me that some things we simply cannot keep out. No matter how many streets and houses and buildings we put up, it is going to snow on them, and rain on them, and the wind will blow around them. Weather gives me a feeling of otherness because it's not part of our system; it just is. This, in turn, reminds me of humanity's true position in relation to this planet, and of the fragility of everything that we have built up to counter our dependence upon it. In the end, we are part of a huge system that will go on no matter what we do. Even a nuclear wasteland will have weather, and even if we never figure out global climate change, and most of the earth becomes uninhabitable to humans, it will still be there. It'll just be different. It's been different before. It can do it again. We're the ones who can't handle it.

Is there anything that reminds you of the otherness of this planet that we occupy parts of? Do you find this thought encouraging, or depressing?

Stabilizers

I wrote this Saturday evening.

I've felt a little embattled and unstable recently. Today I did two things that seem to have helped restore my balance: I sang with the choir at a funeral, and I finished The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley.

The service this morning was in memory and thanksgiving of the life of Reid Nolte, a man who I didn't know at all (but wish I had, having heard and read what others had to say about him), so the effect had nothing to do with personal connection, and everything to do with the liturgy we sang, read, and heard. The hymns and some of the prayers especially pointed to the ultimate stability of our life in Christ. I was reminded that what we see is not all there is, that death – which looks so much like defeat – is really victory, that I am one of a great unity of all those who have ever followed Christ, and that the end of our struggle is already guaranteed. Someday, my sight will be clear and there will be rest and victory.

I have read The Blue Sword at least half-a-dozen times since discovering it in my teens. It is a companion book to The Hero and the Crown, which was written second but stands chronologically first. The Blue Sword tells the tale of Harry (Angharad) Crewe, a twice displaced woman. First – following the death of her parents – her brother relocates her to the military outpost where he is stationed, on the very border of the Homeland empire. Second, and inexplicably, she is kidnapped into the life of the Hillfolk on the other side of that border. At it's root, the story is one of a life snatched from it's expected trajectory and set inexorably on another course, pushed and pulled by an insistent Fate whose guiding mechanisms are persistent but not always clear. Harry eventually makes a sort of peace with the forces using her, her blood, and the Gifts it has given that she didn't ask for, but in the process she spends a lot of time dazed, confused, and resentful. Harry gives me hope because in the middle of her confusion, stubbornness and pride she keeps putting one foot in front of the other. She reminds me that it's all I can do, actually – make the next right choice.

The pattern is much bigger than my life, what I've been given is what I need, and the end is already assured. Today, that was enough.

What reminds you of the stable base to life?