How'd I get so arrogant as to have once believed I understood God anyway?

Sometimes I think that I won’t ever be amazed again. That in my jaded little world I have seen enough to no longer be surprised. But, when I least expect it, God still surprises me.

I thought I was getting close to the end of my faith. I don’t doubt that God is real and “out there, somewhere.” I just wasn’t sure that God was knowable, and thus questioned how I could ever trust an unknowable God to really be good. I mean, let’s be honest, even if you trust that God as described in the Bible is the one running things, well, that God’s a little schizophrenic. Does he commanded the deaths of thousands of people for their sins or does he sacrifice himself for all people forever? How do you reconcile “God is love, in him there is no darkness” with “’vengeance is mine,’ thus saith the Lord”?

And to be honest, anyone who is a believer and reads honestly the Bible should struggle to hold these things in tension.

So, when I was trying for ten months to understand how to hold these things in tension and reconcile them into some sort of understanding about who God is, I felt like my ‘faith’ was falling apart. Do I believe in God? Yes. Do I know what I believe about God? Eh, not so much.

Then one of my best friends went into the hospital with a pulmonary embolism at 29. I stopped caring whether I knew who God was. If someone was out there with the ability to influence the situation, I was willing to try talking to them.

And to be frank, I had decided I was going to bug the hell out of this being, until they gave me what I wanted. (Still haven’t given up on that. Squeaky wheel gets the grease, right? Or the obnoxious widow gets her justice, so the judge can sleep. Whatever your metaphor, I’m still determined to bug the hell out of the deity, until I get what I want.)

The biggest question in my life went from ‘who is God’ to ‘why the hell has my 29 year old friend got a pulmonary embolism.’

As the doctors eliminated options we began to hold our breath. Lymphatic cancer or lupus. Both options honestly suck. They are both very serious and scary. But ultimately lupus is far less likely to kill you. We hoped it was lupus.

Do you know how much it sucks to hope your friend has lupus? Do a little research on lupus.

But after weeks of waiting for tests and test results, we were informed that, yes, it was lupus. It was not cancer.

And as the truth of that set in, I felt… I don’t really even know if I can describe it. I’m still in the middle of that. But the truth of it has made me pray. I don’t care if the deity is benign or indifferent. I fully intend to bug the hell out of that being until they listen to me.

Which means that I pray. I pray a lot. I find myself praying for other concerns as well. Because apparently the deity and I, we talk. Well, I talk. The deity listens. I assume. I hope.

And this new thing, this grief I feel over my friend, it’s changing me. It’s making me more compassionate and simultaneously, less compassionate.

I am beginning to see how common chronic illnesses are. People with a chronic condition are not easy to live with. How do you help someone just enough, but not too much? How do you let them make decisions for themselves, without commenting when you think there might be a better option? When you love someone, it’s really hard to see them suffer. Everyone knows this. But until you live it, you really don’t know it. And people who want to complain about their condition and ask questions like, "Why is God let this happen to me?" I just want to slap them. You are not the only person who is suffering. Why does God let anyone suffer, if God has the ability to change it? I cannot answer this question. Which is what makes this next thing so odd.

I’m coming to realize that I do believe in the goodness of God. That this should come under such circumstances is, I suppose, what has surprised me the most.

Do I believe this out of necessity? No. I’m too realistic to believe that. I have heard 'no' too many times in my life to believe that my friend will be miraculously healed, unless it is just the 'will of God.' Yet, I continue to pray for this. It is a paradox which I honestly can’t explain.

But in the end I think it comes down to Jesus. Because of Jesus, there is a God who knows what suffering is. Is he the “most moved mover?” I don’t know. I should probably try reading Open Theism again. Maybe I would finally understand what it was about. In any case, Jesus suggests to me that God is moved by suffering and if things are not changed as a result of that, then perhaps more is going on than I understand.

The Season of Darkness

The season of darkness is very nearly upon us. Each morning as I leave my house it's a little darker and it takes just a little longer before the sun comes up. I don't know if I've ever been so aware of the shortening days, but I work very early now and being able to literally see the days grow shorter has made me aware of winter's advent.

I used to love winter because of all the fun that it meant. Snow days, hot chocolate, snowmen and brisk chilly walks that make you appreciate the warmth of home. But some how I lost the pleasure of winter. I think it might have been around the same time that I began to understand that working adults don't get snow days and driving in snow when you have to be somewhere is scary.

The long, cold, endless, winter days eventually lead to Spring becoming my favorite time of year.

But then I began to celebrate Advent.

And slowly winter has become a special time for me again.

I love Advent. You wouldn't think that a time of darkness and waiting would bring an impatient lover of Spring much joy, but it does.

Oh how it does. I think it's because of what I'm waiting for. When the nights grow long and despair for Spring draws nigh, advent helps me cling to hope. I am not the first to wait and to hope. Once long ago a people waited and nearly gave up hope of ever being delivered from oppression. Long ago on a dark night a woman waited in great pain and great hope for a child to be delivered. For so many years a people have waited and hoped for the return of a man in triumph and in glory. These are my people and with great hope I wait with them.

O Come thou Dayspring
Come and Cheer our Spirits by thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
and Death's dark shadows put to flight
Rejoice!
Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee O Israel

Perhaps those stodgy Puritans had some inspiration when they celebrated harvest with a meal to give thanks for provision for the dark, hard months of winter. Undoubtedly the Church was right to practice a time of repentance and vigil to guide us into the Season of Christmas. We need hope. We need the promise of new life, whether that be simply Spring coming and provisions to make it until then, or whether that be the greater promise that death is not the end, but only the gate into a different and new life spent with the Creator.

We fall so easily into despair. Darkness and cold. Dead flowers, dormant trees. Winter can seem so hopeless. It draws into focus the hard things about life. Which is why we need the Advent season so very much. I appreciate the chance to think of and name all that I'm thankful for.

I look forward to the dark season where I name with my community the hope I have that the darkness and despair do not last forever; that my savior is coming again. I look forward to the day when the Messiah comes.

Ordinary time is coming to an end. Next week is the Feast of Christ the King, then Advent is upon us.

The season of waiting is coming. The season of hope and faith draws near.

Punched in the Gut Or Being Alone Sucks

It's probably overreaction, but after 'letting' a friend sign me up on a dating site and looking at the site and my 'matches' for several days, I just feel unbearably sad.

Before I did this, I could pretend that there was someone out there and I just hadn't met him yet, but this 'dating site' has brought to the forefront for me how unbearably hard it is to find someone and how rare it is the older you get that you will actually get married.

I think I have gone about dating completely wrong my entire life and now at 29 I'm beginning to honestly believe there just isn't someone out there with whom I could and would want to spend my life.

I'm not single for a season. I'm single for a reason.

I'm simply not the kind of person who other people want to marry. I'm outspoken and opinionated. I'm really very religious, but not in a conservative way. I'm female and highly educated. I'm overweight and under-motivated. I correct people's grammar and read Ancient Greek. Unless the Doctor is looking for a new companion, I'm pretty much doomed to walk the earth alone.

I've been saying that this was a seriously possibility to everyone else for a while now, so why do I feel like I just got punched in the gut?

Pitful whining and general self-sorryness OR Learning a valuable lesson

Today I was not invited to a party. Yes, you read that right. I wasn't invited to a party. It was a birthday party for a friend of mine that several of my friends asked me if I was going to--their assumption being that I was invited.

As already stated, I wasn't.

Now there are numerous events which I have not been invited to attend. This rarely bothers me. Are you having a party? Are we friends? No? Then who cares? Hope your party is fun. Sincerely.

But if we are friends and I'm not invited? Ouch.

That hurts.

However, valuable lesson here: Everyone feels like that at some point. It really sucks to think you are good friends with someone and find out that really you aren't. At least not from their point of view.

Remind me to invite everyone to my parties in the future...

A Pot of Tea and a Hot Bath

There are a lot of things that people turn to after a bad day. For some people it's their spouse. Others turn to alcohol. Some run or do some other form of exercise to burn off the demon of a lousy day. I've done all of these (well, not the spouse, but certainly my roommates or a friend), but lately all I want is a pot of tea and a hot bath.

In fact, I don't even have to have a bad day to want a pot of tea. Or a bath. I just happen to love both and find them infinitely relaxing.

The bath probably comes down to the simple warmth of the water and the supine position. It makes sense.

The pot of tea? I blame BBC.

That's right. I blame BBC. If they didn't produce such great television then I would not watch copious amounts of British programming and would never have been exposed to the love affair that is between the British and their tea.

And no one will ever convince me that there is not power in suggestion because I only have to think about Doctor Who and I start wanting a cup of tea. After all, tea will fix anything, even a broken TARDIS.

At this point any time I sit down to watch tv I want tea. We've been watching Saving Grace (just finished it in fact) and the act of pointing the remote at the screen triggers an instant desire for a cuppa. Saving Grace isn't even British. It's set in Oklahoma City. Just about as American as you can get. They never drink tea on Saving Grace. It's a good thing I haven't developed a desire to drink anything I see on television, because I would be a alcoholic after watching 3 seasons of that show.

No. It's not gin or whiskey that I want when Grace is pulling her stunts, busting bad guys or boffing her men. It's tea.

Good grief. Apparently the British invasion never ended.

The Library

I love the Library. All libraries. They are an universe. A million worlds waiting to be explored. I love to explore the stacks. To climb aboard my ship and fly to strange new places. To read other's thoughts. To be someone else for awhile, if only for a while.

Books open your mind to new thoughts like traveling does. Some reveal landscapes that other know as well as their selves. Others reveal lands that others know only inside themselves. And when I read, those lands become inside of me as well.

In books, we are gods. We create and we rule. We bring order and chaos. We know all but choose how much to reveal. We explore mystery, creating and destroying it at will. In writing, we know God and in reading, we know other gods.

And in a library we have a universe, and spaceship to take us to any land we wish at all.

For two weeks, plus two renewals.

Really shouldn't give advice to strangers...

No, really.

But when people post things about Christianity, or being a Christian, etc, etc... It's like I can't resist. Am I just the most opinionated person on Earth? Eh. Maybe I think I have all the answers? HA. Definitely not that one...

Maybe it's just that, well, I've been there. Who doesn't have guilt over past mistakes? Who doesn't have regret that they didn't "do the right thing"? I know some people say that they have no regrets in life. I can't say that. I haven't always loved God with my whole heart. Sometimes I'm lucky to remember God at all. But, I have this day to serve God. I can't change the things I did in the past. I can only ask for forgiveness, learn from my mistakes and move forward. I have this day, right? And we don't know when our last day will be, but I hope that I can say on my last day, "I served you today with my whole heart."

Heavy, right? And now I "get to" go to my preaching class. Ugh. I should see this as an opportunity to serve God, but all I see are the many, many ways to make a fool of myself. And perhaps I wouldn't even mind that so much if I didn't truly think that NO ONE is helped by my preaching.

But perhaps this is a lack of faith in God. After all, does it not say, "we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose"? Surely this includes my bad preaching.