Five Things I Loved in November

Note: I feel slightly ridiculous posting this since we are now a third of the way through December...but oh well.

Portland

What can I say? After reading several books earlier this year that were either set in Portland and/or written by authors who live in the Portland area (as well as seeing a movie based on one of those books, which was filmed in Portland), I decided I'd like to visit the city some day. The opportunity arose to do so this fall, and I went and was not disappointed. I have good friends who used to live in Portland whose love for the city has made me feel as though it was an old friend, a fascinating character that I wanted to get to know myself. We had two days there and I loved it. Portland somehow has a "thinking" vibe to it, which suits my near inability to ever turn my brain off. I nearly cried the morning we left as we drove through the city on our way out of town, because I felt like there was so much about the city that I hadn't gotten to know yet. I don't know when, but I will return some day.

Rainy Days

I honestly didn't know how I was going to feel about Portland's abundance of rain, but I actually loved it. Somehow the gray, rainy weather just seems to fit Portland, and I actually came back to usually-sunny Reno missing it. Incredibly, we have had an unusual number of rainy days in Reno since I came home from Portland, and I must say, I have loved every single one of them. The rain makes me want to read. And think. And I love that.

Searching for God Knows What

I bought a used copy of this book at Powell's while I was in Portland, and it might be my new favorite piece of Don Miller's work. I won't bother reviewing it here since I already did so on Goodreads. Suffice it to say, I loved this book and think it is absolutely worth reading. I also love that it came from Powell's, in Portland, on a trip I probably never would have taken were it not for Miller's book Blue Like Jazz; and I loved reading about several places we saw during our trip in the book in the days immediately following the trip.

"Argo"

Oddly enough, I got to enjoy this and the previous two items on my list all in one day a few weekends ago. I spent a couple of hours at one of my favorite local coffee shops on a Saturday afternoon, reading my book and enjoying the rain, before meeting up with Judy to see "Argo" for her birthday. I'd read a great article about the movie prior to seeing it that gave it extra meaning for me, and I loved the movie so much I've been to see it two more times since I saw it with Judy. (I also bought the soundtrack. It never ceases to amaze me how much a good soundtrack enriches a good film. Such is the case here.) This is an excellent story.

Thanksgiving Weekend

Our young adults group hosted the first annual "Turkey Bowl" for our church. Several families and individuals got together at the church for a flag football game followed by a potluck Thanksgiving dinner. After our meal, several of us went to see "Lincoln" (which is another great movie, by the way). Then I spent the night at Cassidy and Erin's so they could go Black Friday shopping while I stayed home with Caleb. Throughout the remainder of the weekend I also got to enjoy a lazy movie day at Cassidy and Erin's, the first of three Friday evening "Lord of the Rings" viewing parties with some friends, a productive day at home, an encouraging morning at church, and my second viewing of "Argo" (this time with my parents, who also loved it). It was a great combination of activities that made for a really ideal long weekend.

November was a good month.

paddling in place

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"It's like this when you live a story: The first part happens fast. You throw yourself into the narrative, and you're finally out in the water; the shore is pushing off behind you and the trees are getting smaller. The distant shore doesn't seem so far, and you can feel the resolution coming, the feeling of getting out of your boat and walking the distant beach. You think the thing is going to happen fast, that you'll paddle for a bit and arrive on the other side by lunch. But the truth is, it isn't going to be over soon.

The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be, and the work is harder than you imagined. The point of a story is never about the ending, remember. It's about your character getting molded in the hard work of the middle. At some point the shore behind you stops getting smaller, and you paddle and wonder why the same strokes that used to move you now only rock the boat...the far shore doesn't get closer no matter how hard you paddle.

The shore you left is just as distant, and there is no going back; there is only the decision to paddle in place or stop, slide out of the hatch, and sink into the sea. Maybe there's another story at the bottom of the sea. Maybe you don't have to be in this story anymore.

It's been like this with all my crossings. I have a couple of boats, and every couple of years I take them to Orcas Island and make the crossing from Orcas to Sucia, and it's always the same about leaving the shore so fast and getting to the middle and paddling for hours...

I think this is when most people give up on their stories. They come out of college wanting to change the world, wanting to get married, wanting to have kids and change the way people buy office supplies. But they get into the middle and discover it was harder than they thought. They can't see the distant shore anymore, and they wonder if their paddling is moving them forward. None of the trees behind them are getting smaller and none of the trees ahead are getting bigger...they go looking for an easier story...

If it weren't for the other guys on the trip, I would have quit that night. We'd gotten up before sunrise, spent the day at Bob's, and were paddling now nearly twenty-four hours later. If it weren't for the other guys, I would have lay down in my hatch and slept and drifted out with the tide. But hours after I thought we'd arrive, I made out the gray wall of the cliff face on my right. We were close to it before we saw it, and it was like the walls of an ancient cathedral; our sounds were coming back at us off the rock. We had to follow the cliff to another, smaller crossing where there was a beach we'd made camp at on the way to the back of the inlet.

Then one of the guides pointed out bioluminescence was happening. He dropped his paddle into the water, and what looked like sparks splashed, and some of them floated like embers on top of the water. We all looked at our paddles and stirred them around in the water, and there in the darkness the oceans glowed. The farther we paddled into the opening, the darker the water got and the brighter the bioluminescence became. We could see each other now because there were comet trails behind our boats and there were sparks flying off our bows and onto our spray skirts, so bright you thought you needed to wipe them away for fear they would burn the fabric.

{photo source}

It was four in the morning, but we were energized by the ocean. As we got closer to the other shore, there were a million fish swimming beneath our boats, each leaving a trail, and the ocean was flashing from beneath us as though fireworks were going off in the water. "I've never seen it like this," one of our guides said. He said he'd seen the ocean glow when you splashed your paddle, but he'd never seen the fish light up the water from underneath. When we were a hundred yards from shore and paddling into the lagoon, the whole ocean glowed like a swimming pool. None of us wanted to get out of our boats. I paddled around in circles in the lagoon, watching the fish streak beneath me like a meteor shower.

It's like this with every crossing, and with nearly every story too. You paddle until you no longer believe you can go any farther. And then suddenly, well after you thought it would happen, the other shore starts to grow, and it grows fast. The trees get taller and you can make out the crags in the cliffs, and then the shore reaches out to you, to welcome you home, almost pulling your boat onto the sand."

-Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

For whatever reason, God has given me a story in which my only real dream in life has been deferred for much longer than I ever would have imagined. My story currently has me paddling, waiting for the other shore to start growing, hoping against hope that once it begins, it will indeed grow fast, welcoming me home. By and large, I deeply enjoy the journey God has me on even though it's been a much longer one than I'd have ever chosen. My journey has been richly blessed, with some amazing experiences and most greatly by the companionship of so many dear friends and family. But this is one of those days where I long to see the shoreline of my dream approaching, so rapidly that I actually feel bittersweet about this part of my journey is coming to an end. Until then, I just keep paddling...

Living a Good Story

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In two days (weather permitting) I'll be heading north to spend a long weekend in Oregon. I read several books earlier this year that were, coincidentally, all set in Portland, and I also saw a movie based on one of those books which gave me some visuals to go along with what I'd read, and after reading about the city and seeing it on the big screen, I decided that I'd like to visit it myself as soon as I could. Two friends and I made plans to visit a mutual friend in Salem this weekend before spending a couple of days in Portland. In anticipation of our trip, I began rereading one of those set-in-Portland books last weekend, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I don't think it's an accident that I'm reading it again right now. This book is all about recognizing that our lives are telling a story and learning to make choices that contribute to a story that is compelling -- living in such a way that, if put on paper, our stories would actually be worth reading.

Unless you're new to my blog, you've probably picked up on the fact that this year has been pretty revolutionary for me as a follower of Jesus. The best way I can describe it is to borrow the words of the apostle Paul and say that God has been leading me through a process of "being transformed by the renewing of my mind." My brother likes to call this process "worldview transformation." Essentially this means that the way I look at all of life has changed, and as a result, so has the way I interact with the world around me. There are so many elements that have created the framework that now comprises my worldview, many of which I've written about in previous posts (in particular, much clearer understandings of God's grace, the Gospel, and the Kingdom of God; Christ's call to live a life of humility by dying to self; God's design for the Christian life to be lived in community and His heart for unity within the Church; and clearer understandings of spiritual gifts and personality types, among other things). ALL of these facets of my worldview have led to shifts in attitudes and actions, in how I live my life.

When I read A Million Miles back in the spring, I think I was vaguely aware that God was doing something new and significant in my life, but there was no way I could have known at that time what a deep impact this new work was going to have. What I'm noticing as I read the book this time around is that the way God has transformed my thinking this year has led me to live a better story, just as the book had suggested months ago. I think learning to embrace the call to die to self has been particularly important, because I can think of multiple decisions I've made -- primarily about how to spend portions of my time -- by running my options through the filter of dying to self that would have played out differently before God began this season of transformation in my life. Dying to self is what has led me to:

• go downtown (alone!) to watch a friend's dance performance after youth group instead of going straight home and crashing for the night
• message someone who had unfriended me on Facebook to see if there was an offense I needed to make right instead of becoming self-righteous and indignant
• commit an entire Saturday to gather with a handful of friends to fast and pray for our church
• attend a barbecue with a houseful of people outside of my usual social circle (quite a challenge for an introvert) in an effort to build community and promote unity in my church family
• drive all the way across town on a Saturday evening to watch someone perform at an open mic night instead of staying planted on my futon watching old episodes of "Arrested Development"

Now PLEASE understand, I am in no way trying to give myself a pat on the back for doing any of these things. I fear some may infer, not only from this brief list of life examples but also from my frequent & enthusiastic sharing of what God is teaching me (whether that's here or on Facebook), that I'm seeking the praise of man, but that is not my goal at all. I am not so deluded as to think I've somehow arrived, and I am fully aware that I have plenty of room to continue learning and growing for the duration of my time here on earth! But at the same time, praise God, by His grace there HAS been progress in my life this year in areas I previously withheld from Him, and I've discovered that when you start surrendering to Him and begin to taste life as I believe He really intended it to be, your natural response is simply to share it because it is SO GOOD! I only share some specific examples of ways I've chosen to die to self this year because I am suddenly realizing each of those instances has contributed to a better story being told through my life than if I'd acted from a more natural [read: selfish] response, and that brings joy to my heart.

Here's the truth about telling stories with your life. It's going to sound like a great idea, and you are going to get excited about it, and then when it comes time to do the work, you're not going to want to do it...People love to have lived a great story, but few people like the work it takes to make it happen. But joy costs pain.
-Donald Miller

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A few days ago I was wrestling with frustration over some of the meaningless stories that are being lived out in this world, but as I was pouring out my frustration to God, He began speaking to my heart and shifting my perspective to how I myself can continue to seek ways to live a better story with my own life. As I began to consider how I can improve the story my life is telling, my frustration began to fade. I can't always affect the story someone else is telling, but when I'm in a funk, there is almost always something I can do to make my own story a better one. It's rarely easy, but it's ALWAYS worth it.

I HOPE that I am increasingly living my life in a way that reflects the story of Jesus to the people around me and draws them closer to His Kingdom. I hope that the smaller stories I live within the larger story of my life, which is only a drop in the ocean of the grand story of God's work in the world, are telling a story of irrepressible hope and joy that flows from my belief that God is in the business of restoring His original good design for mankind. I believe He created us in His image to live beautifully in right relationships -- with Him and with others and with our environment -- and to be conduits of love and creativity and justice and mercy in this world. And although we are surrounded by brokenness and are broken ourselves, and although we have all rebelled against God, because of Jesus' death and resurrection, I believe redemption is possible. As we learn to die to self and embrace Christ's lordship, submitting to Him as our just and merciful King, He transforms us so that we increasingly reflect His image and His Kingdom to the world around us. And nothing reflects His Kingdom more than our reconciled relationships -- with God, fellow believers, family, those who don't share our faith, friends, enemies, possessions, creation, self, etc.

This is the story of restoration, and I hope that it is the story my life is telling, because there is no greater story to tell!

A Cry for the Gospel

It.............has been a while.

Haha. I've actually had several blog ideas in mind for quite some time; I just haven't taken the time to sit down and compose them. I'm hoping to do that over the next few days. For today, my thoughts are fairly simple.

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Saturday morning I was listening to Mumford and Sons' "Sigh No More" album while getting ready for the day, and although I've enjoyed the title track more than 30 times (according to my itunes play count) and even blogged about it once before, the last few lines of the song suddenly captured my attention in a way they never had before:

Love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be 

There is a design, an alignment, a cry of my heart to see
The beauty of love as it was made to be

After spending vast amounts of time this year pondering the Gospel as told in its entirety through the simple elements of Creation, Fall, Redemption, and Restoration, it finally occurred to me that these final lines of "Sigh No More" seem as though they could portray a cry for the Gospel.

Only in Christ can we find a love that does not betray, dismay, or enslave us but rather truly sets us free and makes us more like the people we were made to be. Or to put it in different terms, Christ's love is the sole thing that can transform us as human beings and restore us to God's original design -- that which only Adam and Eve ever experienced after God created them, before they rebelled and sin marred (not erased, but marred) the image of God in humanity for the rest of history.

In the final lines I'm reminded of the longing all mankind has for transcendence, for something greater than what we experience in our current reality. I believe God has designed us this way, giving us an intrinsic desire to experience love the way it was meant to be, which we somehow know is not the sort of human love we experience now -- even the very best of human love. It is this longing that only the Gospel can fill.

Was this what Mumford and Sons had in mind when the song was written? I highly doubt these were their exact thoughts. I believe most artists prefer to leave interpretation up to the listener, and I happen to greatly respect that, so I would never claim that I've figured out "what they really meant" when they wrote these lyrics. But I do believe I see reflected here a glimpse of the desire God has built into each one of us, the desire that will only ever truly be filled through the Gospel.

to set free those who are oppressed

Wednesday night my parents and I happened to catch the movie "Mississippi Burning" just as it was coming on TV. As we watched, there were points at which I felt deeply troubled by what I was seeing. Even more than the horrific way the whites treated the black community, I was disturbed by the oppression I saw as evidenced by the black community's refusal to speak up about the injustices being committed. It reminded me of what I saw in "The Help," which also deeply troubled me.

A couple of days later I was looking at a worksheet my brother recently created that's intended to help people identify different aspects of God's design for them as individuals. One question on the worksheet asked, "What makes you mad?" I immediately thought of oppression. It's not just the historical racial oppression I see portrayed in movies that angers me, it's also the spiritual oppression I see in the lives of people I know personally. I had already been thinking about this a few weeks ago. I become extremely troubled when I see people I care about, brothers and sisters in Christ, missing out on the full life God intends for them because they're being oppressed by lies that have been fed to them by he who seeks to steal, kill, and destroy. The worst of it for me is to see people who have given up fighting. It is not in my nature to give up, and I feel like my spirit is suffocating when I see that someone I care about has resigned him- or herself to the way things are, no longer seeking change because change has been thwarted so many times in the past.

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As I've found freedom in God's grace and living for His Kingdom over the past few months, I've also experienced a deep desire to see others find that same freedom. Jesus said He was sent "to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, and to set free those who are oppressed." We as believers are to carry on the work He began on earth. And lately it seems as though God has been shaping me with a particular draw to the part about setting free those who are oppressed.

Saturday morning I was praying about this and I thought again of "The Help" (the book version of which landed in my hands less than 24 hours after I watched "Mississippi Burning" and really started thinking about how much I hate oppression...coincidence?). I thought about how writing was the tool Skeeter used to fight the oppression she saw in her community. I've always considered myself a writer (though a slow one) and I suddenly wondered whether writing might be a tool through which God is leading me to fight spiritual oppression. I don't have any big ambition in this regard, I just think perhaps through this blog and through various personal communications part of God's design for me might be to fight spiritual oppression through my writing.

I've been re-watching season 4 of Chuck, and yesterday I was watching an episode in which Chuck has been captured during a time when he does not have the intersect, leaving him defenseless against his enemies. Sarah is bound and determined to find him and heads to the roughest part of Thailand when she gets word that's where he's being held. Once she arrives she agrees to fight someone in order to gain information about his specific whereabouts. (Meanwhile Chuck's mind is being poisoned with a substance that is designed to erase his memory.) This is not the only time we see Sarah kicking some tail on this show, but I couldn't help but notice the passion with which she fights in this scene.

{screen shot from the fight scene}

Sarah's passion resonated with me, because I feel passionate about helping to free people (especially people I already care about) whose minds are being poisoned by satan's lies, whose memories of God's truth and faithfulness are being stripped away, and whose hearts are becoming overwhelmed with such hopelessness and despair that they've stopped fighting for freedom. I wish a few powerful punches and a couple of roundhouse kicks would be effective in my situation (and that I knew how to deliver such to begin with, haha!), because it sure would feel good to release some of the frustration I feel when I witness oppression in people's lives! But as it is, it seems the weapons God has given me to use are those of prayer and pen (or keyboard, as it were). So my hope is that I can pray and write with all the fervor and determination I see in Sarah Walker as she fights physically to set Chuck free.

Last weekend I downloaded Josh Garrels' album "Love and War and the Sea In Between" (which, side note, just might be THE most fantastic album I've ever owned), and one of his songs really reflects my heart in all of this. I'll close with the lyrics, and if you'd like to hear the song you can listen at the bottom of the page.

Rise

I hung my head for the last time in surrender and despair
Before I'm dead, I'll take the last climb up the mountain, face my fears
The time has come to make a choice, use my voice for the love of every man
My mind's made up, never again, never again will I turn 'round

Though they may surround me like lions and crush me on all sides
I may fall, but I will rise
Not by my might or my power or by the strength of swords,
Only through Your love, oh Lord
All that's lost will be restored

Take courage sons, for we must go under the heart of darkness to set them free
But don't lose heart when you see the numbers -- there's no measure for the faith we bring
And it's given us to overcome if we run where the Spirit calls us on
The greatest things are yet to come; with the dawn we will rise

Though they may surround me like lions and crush me on all sides
I may fall, but I will rise
Not by my might or my power or by the strength of swords,
Only through Your love, oh Lord
All that's lost will be restored

Jesus, make me an agent of the restoration that comes only through Your love.