In a poetic mood.

Whatever that means.

Sometimes the mood strikes me to write a poem. And sometimes I do, and it's awful, and sometimes I do, and it's "fair to middlin'" as my father would say, and sometimes it's just what I wanted. Sometimes I hit all those perfect authorial high notes -- lean, vivid, evocative, just the right combination of wit and punch.

I guess I have to realize that all my writing is like that -- that hitting "publish" on this blog is going to mean that I put a lot of things out there that I'm not satisfied with, that I go back and read months later and cringe at. I'm no "First-Draft" Lewis, and I never will be (alas?). And I realize that part of the discipline of being a writer is just continuing to hit "publish" week after week even when I don't have anything profound at the front of my mind. Because sometimes when I write a poem, it starts out as a sloppy ramble and ends up quite nicely summing up a thought filed away back in my brain. I reckon writing here won't be any different.

Lent, Day 29? Or something? Maybe?

Thoughts on blogging through Lent, in no particular order:

It was SUCH a mistake to put numbers in the titles of these Lent posts. Yikes.

I don't know why I ever thought I could be a journalist. I can barely manage to hit "publish" my own dang blog every day (by which I mean "most days"), much less deal with an external writing deadline, with content that matters AND has to be coherent and factual, day in and day out. Thinking about it kind of makes my blood pressure go up.

This spring has been a tough one. Usually by this point in the year, I'm feeling basically free of the winter funk, and I'm busy, rested, and motivated. This year? Let's just say that the winter funk is persisting.

Not-unrelatedly, a friend and I are reading Russ Moore's new book Tempted and Tried: Temptation and the Triumph of Christ.

I'm working on writing up each chapter as I read it. So far the verdict is possibly least-surprisingly-awesome book I've ever read. By which I mean, Dr. Moore's stuff is almost entirely fantastic -- convicting, encouraging, focused on Jesus -- and this, being no exception, did not catch me off guard with its amazingness. I highly recommend it, not only for the practical theology content, but for the strength of Dr. Moore's authorial voice. Reading this book is just like being in class with him. He's funny, relatable, a bit provocative, really, really Southern (in that genteel, coastal South way, not a redneck or hillbilly way), and whip-smart. Oh, and he loves Johnny Cash.

What I Learned When I Gave Up Facebook For Lent

(Not much organization here, peeps -- just a collection of musings.)

I think, worry, and obsess way too much about what other people think of me.  In the first several days of my Facebook-free Lent I had far too many moments of, "Oh, man, I wish I could use that as my status update.  Bummer."  Which of course is all about pride -- wanting people to think I'm smart and clever and funny.

My first impulse in too many situations is to cling to other people rather than looking to Jesus.  I mentioned early on in this little experiment that I was learning to pray first rather than write on someone's wall or even pick up the phone.

That surprised me a little -- that the stuff I was learning by giving up Facebook weren't just impacting my online relationships.  I talked with my best friend Kelsey a few days ago about the fact that it's unloving for me to depend on her more than I depend on my loving Father.  Picking up the phone to call her (or my mom, or a friend, or whoever) ten seconds after I experience a moment of sadness or anxiety or fear -- that's giving too much weight to my deceptive, fickle emotions, and not giving enough credit to my Father, who has told me to cast all my cares on him.

Now that's not to say that I don't value and cherish the friendships the Lord has given me.  I do.  I believe that the folks in my community group and my precious family and my dear friends both near and far are gifts from the Lord.  They can be Jesus to me when I'm hurting or anxious or confused.  But I find myself far too quick to dump my "issues" on other people instead of dealing with them before the Lord.

I'll talk a bit later on about how my online time looks different now after this little adventure.  Lord willing, it'll be a permanent change for the better.

Lovelessness

Terry's blog, Breathing Grace, has encouraged me so many times I can't even tell y'all.  In the midst of a discussion on women's roles and responsibilities, she said something that CUT ME UP.

"If I homeschool using Charlotte Mason, wear a dress I sewed myself that grazes the floor, cook a gourmet meal every night and melt in your mouth biscuits every morning and have not love, it profits me nothing."

Ouch.


I'm not a wife or mother, I don't buy the whole "there's no such thing as women's pants" thing, I for sure don't cook a gourmet meal every night, and if I baked biscuits every morning I would weigh 800 pounds.  But what about all the other externals by which I choose to measure my godliness?


"If I do my morning devotions in the Greek New Testament, have bookshelves full of Puritan writings, can quote big chunks of the Bible from memory, and have not love, it profits me nothing."


"If I grow my own food, eat only natural, locally-raised meat, make my own cleaning supplies, and bake all my bread from scratch, and have not love, it profits me nothing."


"If I write insightfully on profound topics, teach classics and languages with theological overtones, read obscure and difficult books, and have not love, it profits me nothing."


Also, this is my 300th post.  That's a lot of words.

How Does She Do It?

I do a lot of my writing on the weekends and schedule the posts to publish automatically during the week.  And I'm trying to be more intentional about just writing reflectively without having to draw big important conclusions.  I get really anxious about making my writing perfect, and especially about impressing people with my insight, and that's stupid.  Whether or not y'all think I'm smart doesn't have any impact on my identity in Christ.  That realization has been a long time coming.

Evangelism and the Single Girl

I stink at evangelism. Really. I can't remember the last time I shared the Gospel, or even had a spiritual conversation, with an unbeliever who wasn't a) related to me and under age ten or b) my student. No, I can, it was probably with one of my neighbors in the apartment complex I lived in two and a half years ago. The only reason I knew my downstairs neighbor, Jasmine, is because she liked to listen to hip-hop while studying at 1 a.m., and the only reason I knew my across-the-hall neighbor is because he was completely insane, not unlike several of the other people who lived there. I don't think I ever told you about the time that one of the downstairs residents kidnapped (catnapped?) my next-door neighbor's cat and refused to return it.

Anyway, I digress.

I live by myself in my condo, which I totally love about 75% of the time, particularly when I don't feel like cleaning. The other 25% of the time, I feel either like a cloistered nun (who, uh, is on Facebook) or a weird recluse. Good thing I don't have any cats. I've met a few of my neighbors, and they're nice people, but I haven't felt comfortable going door-to-door and introducing myself or trying to form relationships with them. And herein lies my problem.

I totally believe that God has put me in this place for this time. It's not an accident that I live here, or that I have the neighbors I have. But what's a single girl to do? This is a pretty good-size metropolitan area I live in, and while it's quite a safe neighborhood, you just never know. I honestly don't feel right about going out by myself to knock on doors -- apart from the safety issues, what do you do with the propriety issues that arise, like finding yourself on the front steps of a house full of college-age boys? But how else besides meeting my neighbors am I supposed to even be in contact with adult non-Christians?

It's a very angsty issue for me, really. I want to be wise and safe, but I must be obedient.

I don't have any concluding thoughts, because I haven't concluded my thinking on this subject. If anyone has any suggestions, insights, or practical considerations, I'm all ears. Or whatever the online equivalent of ears is.

The Best Sermon I've Ever Heard Driscoll Preach

Some of you might know about the latest sermon series at Mars Hill Church, nine sermons in response to the top nine questions on Mark's "Ask Anything" website. Timmy Brister, who is a blog acquaintance, asked a question about the Regulative Principle of Worship, and, through his constant efforts at defending the importance of the question, it rose to number one at the last minute! This week was the last sermon in the series, and so addressed the number one question.

I watched two of the other sermons, and found them to be outstanding (especially the dating one, which I would seriously like my pastor to require for every single man at Sojourn), but this one was exceptional, not just because of the content of the sermon (though that was great!). The last fifteen minutes, I think, are a turning point in Mark's ministry. This past week, during the Acts 29 pastor's conference, both John Piper and C.J. Mahaney sat down with Driscoll, separately, and gave him encouragement and rebuke about some issues with his ministry and his character. Driscoll repented and asked for forgiveness from the pulpit for some of those very issues.

I strongly encourage you to check it out here, and then let me know what you thought.

...even though for a time it may appear very small, as though it were snuffed out...

We believe and confess one universal church— a holy congregation and gathering of true Christian believers, awaiting their entire salvation in Jesus Christ, being washed by his blood and sanctified and sealed by the Holy Spirit. This church has existed from the beginning of the world and will last until the end, as appears from the fact that Christ is eternal King who cannot be without subjects. And this holy church is preserved by God against the rage of the whole world, even though for a time it may appear very small, as though it were snuffed out. For example, during the very dangerous time of Ahab the Lord preserved for himself seven thousand men who did not bend their knees to Baal. And so this holy church is not confined, bound, or limited to a certain place or certain persons. But it is spread and dispersed throughout the entire world, though still joined and united in heart and will, in one and the same Spirit, by the power of faith.

—from Belgic Confession, Art. 27

The Chief of Sinners

Dave Harvey, author of the acclaimed book, When Sinners Say "I DO," gives this beautiful perspective on the sinfulness of our hearts, in a July 2007 interview with Discerning Reader.

I actually borrowed [this phrase] from the apostle Paul in his words to Timothy (1 Timothy 1:15). But it applies to all of us. Yes, really.

Paul didn’t say ‘I was.’ He said ‘I am’—the ‘present-tense’ apostle Paul saw himself as the chief of sinners. [...] And I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that he knew he was capable—given the right circumstances—of the worst of sins and the vilest of motives. Paul was a realist. He wanted to see God and himself truly. No hiding behind a facade of pleasantness or religiosity for him. It’s almost as if Paul is saying, “Look, I know my sin. And what I’ve seen in my own heart is darker and more awful; it’s more proud, selfish, and self-exalting; and it’s more consistently and regularly in rebellion against You than anything I have glimpsed in the heart of anyone else. As far as I can see, the biggest sinner I know is me.”

But in the very next verse Paul says, “But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life.”

With the passing of each day, two things grew larger for Paul: his sinfulness in light of the holiness of God, and God’s mercy in the face of it. Knowing both God and himself accurately was not at all discouraging or depressing. Rather, it deepened his gratitude for the vastness of God’s mercy in redeeming him, and the patience of Christ in continuing to love and identify with him in his daily struggle against sin.

Paul’s confession to Timothy presents us with a stunning example of moral honesty and theological maturity: Paul’s acute, even painful awareness of his own sinfulness caused him to magnify the glory of the Savior!

As I’ve studied Paul’s example, I’ve found it to be true in my own life as well.

(ht: Pure Church)

Solitude (Or, "Wow, I'm really being honest to the point of over-sharing today.")

I read a beautiful article on the art of solitude yesterday, and was reminded of the sweet hours I once spent sitting on the porch of the conference center of the camp I attended, tea steaming, swallows dancing on the dawn-gray air, Bible open on my lap. Mornings in a cabin full of girls were not peaceful, nor conducive to my patience or joy as their cabin leader, so I would rise in the dark, get ready quietly, and wake the most responsible girl in the cabin before I headed out the door and over the hill. The woods were just waking up as I walked to the conference center, the light changing to pink as I sipped my tea and looked out over the field and the pond and the distant mountains.

The mornings are cold in the Rockies, even in midsummer. Many days, I could see my breath coming in short puffs as I hiked up the steep hill from Cabin 5, the crunch of my shoes on the gravel road the only sound to be heard. The dew that fell occasionally when the temperature dropped into the 40s encouraged the mule deer out into the thickets of tall grass and brambles that marked the edge of the hill down to the pond. Early summer meant fawns, still spotted and tenuous, staying close to their serene, unhurried mothers; the adults were used to seeing us, and only ran if we hurried close to them.

Those mornings, I practiced solitude out of necessity, and loved each quiet moment with the Lord in the chill morning air. Now, too often, I fear it. I fear the silence of my room. I fear my upcoming 26th birthday -- an acute reminder of just how many evenings I have spent alone, and how many more I fear will be spent alone. I have failed to differentiate between solitude and loneliness. Pray for me, friends, as I work out what it means to be still in the presence of God, to think His thoughts after Him in the quiet of the end of the day.

Sorry, sorry...

It's been such a long time since I posted anything of substance. I could cite work-busyness, dad being in town this week, community group and gospel classes starting back up but it's really all an excuse.

I have been pondering the (infant vs. believer's) baptism issue for a week or so, ever since several of us (including the thoughtful and brilliant Jamie Barnes, my favorite musician of all time) debated it this past Sunday, but I don't know if I'll write anything about it NOW. NOW it'll just look like I'm trying to ride Craig's coattails, dagnabbit!

While I make up my mind, head over to Mike's blog and pray for people to be generous in their support of his ministry. Or better yet, send him some money!

A Long Road to Recovery: the Wounds of a Friend

Two of my friends were recently in a car accident. They both lived to tell about it, but the car is totaled, and they both will have to spend quite a while getting better. One friend, especially, is now looking forward to weeks, maybe even months, of physical therapy to get her spine back in alignment. It's going to hurt. A lot. And, since it's her spine that was most affected, there are a lot of things she won't be able to do until she's completely healed -- things that wouldn't be a problem ordinarily.

That got me thinking.

I'm a sinner, "wrecked" by sin, if you'll pardon the bad pun, "lost and ruined by the Fall," as the song goes. I know from experience that if my back goes out, or I sleep the wrong way on my neck, or get too tense, my whole body feels it -- not just the parts that are directly involved, but everywhere, and the longer it goes on unaddressed, the worse it gets. The same is true of our sin: even something that seems small and insignificant can start to take over our lives.

A couple of months ago, two of my dear community group sisters saw one of those kinds of sin in me. As I stood in front of them crying, they lovingly and gently called the sins of my heart to my attention. They showed me where I was deceived, where I was sinning, where I had erected idols, and they pointed me to the truth. They humbly admitted their own similar failings and told me of the Lord's work in their lives as they had submitted to His correction.

It hurt.

But, thanks only to the grace of God in restraining me, I kept my big mouth shut. What I wanted when I poured my heart out to these wonderful, compassionate women was a band-aid. I wanted them to say, "Oh, there there, it's all right, you're just so sweet and we can't understand why something like this would be happening! Shame on those other people!" I wanted them to pat my shoulder and give me comfort, not point out my sin! But Proverbs 27:6 says, "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful are the kisses of an enemy."

My friend's physical therapy is going to take a long time. But wouldn't it be foolish of her not to go through with it simply because she knows it's going to be unpleasant? The fact is, she's already injured, and she'll take the only wise course of action over the next few months as she recovers -- she'll obey the instructions of her doctors and keep working at it, no matter how difficult or interminable it seems.

And that's true for us as well. We've already lived with the grave and deadly injury of sin, but God by His grace has placed us in a community founded on the Healer, Christ, and imbued with the Holy Spirit, that great diagnostician. And when a believing friend loves us enough to obey God's command that we "exhort one another every day, as long as it is still called today, that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin" (Hebrews 3:13), shouldn't we humbly listen to their exhortation, before it's too late -- before our hearts are hardened?