Relaxing vacay reading

I try to sound as basic as possible.

Anyways, having a 2.5 hour flight provides the perfect opportunity to get a head start on the literary endeavor of your choice. In this case, I'm fangirling over Aimee Byrd after catapulting myself into Housewife Theologian on the plane. Just came across this excerpt, which cements a conviction which has been recently growing on my mind. I need to move away from just consuming the wisdom of older people around me and realize that despite my best efforts, I'm acquiring some of my own as well. My life expeiences are much less meaningful if I don't apply them and use them to help others. In other words, SARAH STOP BEING LAZY.

We need to be purposeful in our relationships and reminded of our responsibilities so that we do not fall into sin.

This can be very difficult for the twenty-first century woman. Our American culture is very individualistic. When we read of this duty to admonish the younger women, we do not want to put ourselves in such an imposing, uncomfortable relationship. Many young women today do not want to hear this "advice." I recently attended a wonderful women's workshop on spiritual friendship. One point that enriched my thinking on this matter was the consideration that we are all an older woman to someone, and we are all a younger woman to someone. We share in the responsibility to teach, as well as to be teachable.

Housewife Theologian, p. 140

O come, O come, Emmanuel

Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ. And he came in the Spirit into the temple, and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the Law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,

“Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,

according to your word;

for my eyes have seen your salvation

that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for revelation to the Gentiles,

and for glory to your people Israel.”

And his father and his mother marveled at what was said about him. And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.” 

And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived with her husband seven years from when she was a virgin, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem. 

Luke 2:25-38

Taking heaven by storm

Amid the spiritual.....picnic.....of the past several months, one of the most powerful truths I've learned is the "violent" nature of our sanctification. As Christians, we are not called to a life inside a Thomas Kinkade painting. Instead, like the armed man the Interpreter presents in Pilgrim's Progress, we are going to fight our way into Heaven. I always understood this as a battle with the triple forces of the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. And it is. But now I see that our sanctification is not just a fight against enemies. It's also a fight for what has been promised to us. It is both defensive and offensive.

What do you know? Thomas Watson just happened to write a book about this. Here follows a choice excerpt:

3. What is implied in this holy violence? It implies three things: Resolution of will. Vigor of affection. Strength of endeavor.

Resolution of the will. Psalm 119:6: "I have sworn, and I will perform it, that I keep Thy righteous judgments." Whatever is in the way to heaven (though there is a lion in the way), I will encounter it like a resolute commander who charges through the whole body of the army. The Christian is resolved that, come what will, he will have heaven. Where there is this resolution, danger must be despised, difficulties trampled upon, and terrors condemned. This is the first thing in holy violence: resolution of will. I will have Heaven whatever it costs me, and this resolution must be in the strength of Christ.

Resolution is like the bias to the bowl, which carries it strongly. Where there is but half a resolution, a will to be saved and a will to follow sin, it is impossible to be violent for heaven. If a traveler is unresolved, sometimes he will ride this way, sometimes that; he is violent for neither.

Vigor of the affections. The will proceeds upon reason; the judgment being informed of the excellence of a state of glory and the will being resolved upon a voyage to that holy land, now the affections follow and they are on fire in passionate longings after heaven. The affections are violent things. Psalm 42:2: "My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God." The Rabbins note here that David did not say, "My soul hungereth," but "thirsteth," because naturally we are more impatient with thirst than hunger. See in what a rapid, violent motion David's affections were carried after God. Affections are like the wings of the bird that make the soul swift in its flight after glory; where the affections are stirred up, there is offering violence to heaven.

This violence implies strength of endeavor, when we strive for salvation as though a matter of life and death. 'Tis easy to talk of heaven, but not to get to heaven; we must put forth our strength, and call in the help of heaven to this work.

Heaven Taken By Storm, pp. 9-10.

"Do you love me more than these?"

Over dinner tonight, Maddie of Bestfriendom and I fell to talking about how difficult but crucially important it is to maintain a meaningful relationship with Christ. It directly influences all the other aspects of our lives. And then I came home and stumbled across this passage in Flavel. Once again, books spookily echo what has just been on my mind:

Without love to Christ we may have the name of Christians, but we are wholly without the nature. We may have the form of godliness, but are wholly without the power. Give me thine heart is the language of God to all the children of men, Proverbs 23:26; and "Give me thy love" is the language of Christ to all His disciples.

Christ knows the command and influence which love to Him, in the truth and strength of it, has; how it will engage all the other affections of His disciples for Him; that if He has their love, their desires will be chiefly after Him. Their delights will be chiefly in Him; their hopes and expectations will be chiefly from Him; their hatred, fear, grief, anger, will be carried forth chiefly unto sin as it is offensive unto Him. He knows that love will engage and employ for Him all the powers and faculties of their souls; their thoughts will be brought into captivity and obedience unto Him; their understandings will be employed in seeking and finding out His truths; their memories will be receptacles to retain them; their consciences will be ready to accuse and excuse as His faithful deputies; their wills will choose and refuse, according to His direction and revealed pleasure.

 All their senses and the members of their bodies will be His servants. Their eyes will see for Him, their ears will hear for Him, their tongues will speak for Him, their hands will work for Him, their feet will walk for Him. All their gifts and talents will be at His devotion and service. If He has their love, they will be ready to do for Him what He requires. They will suffer for Him whatever He calls them to. If they have much love to Him, they will not think much of denying themselves, taking up His cross, and following Him wherever He leads them.

(The True Christian's Love to the Unseen Christ, pp. 1-2)

And thus we have a testament to the power of the love of God. First, it is mirrored in ours. "We love, because He first loved us." But it also strengthens us to godly action. Not only does it make us love Him, it makes us like Him. We are transformed when we encounter the love of God.

As Dante ended the Divine Comedy,

Yet, as a wheel moves smoothly, free from jars,

My will and my desire were turned by love,
The love that moves the sun and the other stars. 

Not that I'm counting or anything

However, if I were, I'd write a blog post about how there are 22 days separating me from England.  Sandwiched amongst the pre-European festivities is a trip to Florida to visit my aunt. Between the two of these excursions, I plan on missing the majority of the new and improved polar vortex the Weatherman is threatening us with again.

Last night, my genial coworker asked whether I'd started packing yet. To this, I indulged in a laugh with a maniacal edge to it and replied that I was happy I had just done my laundry. Having thrown 75 pages of papers at yours truly, the semester has been brutal. It began with me incredulously remarking that I had nothing to do, and ended with me running into the living room where my sister sat, proclaiming for all the world to hear: "I AM A WRITING GODDESS!!!"

Anyways, the reality that I am going to be gone in three weeks is hitting me. I have my plane ticket, an over-zealous itinerary of places to visit, and a church to attend. My bank has been told that imminent transactions in Europe are just me trying to buy myself some groceries, OK?!?! Today, I went to the store and stocked up on all the random stuff I'll need to bring along. Can't survive without those socks. I think I've had a master packing list since at least last spring. Actually buying the stuff on there made this trip start to sink in.

These are the classes I'm signed up to take:

• Philosophy of Religion (God's attributes, prayer, eternal life)
• Pauline Epistles
• The Early Church
• Explorations in Literature (basically a western survey)
• Christianity and the Arts (THERE ARE FIELD TRIPS)

Soooooo excited.

I've had two people recommend visiting a service at King's College Chapel. The choir is beautiful. The chapel is beautiful. This whole semester is just going to be one long case of aesthetic over-stimulus.

HOW DO YOU EVEN CONCENTRATE???

And that's about all I have to say at this point. The countdown continues.

THANK YOU LELAND RYKEN

The other day, when presenting my paper on Christian literary theory, I matter-of-factly stated that Christian theory should not be afraid to promote the Christian agenda (duhhh). I'm pretty sure I annoyed several of my classmates. That made me happy. Anyways, I am finishing up said paper and came across this quote by Ryken, which I am going to appropriate as validation.

Modern literary theory has championed the idea of interpretive communities - readers and authors who share an agenda of interests, beliefs, and values. Christian readers and writers are one of these interpretive communities. Everyone sees the world of literature through the lens of his or her beliefs and experiences. Christians are no exception. As an interpretive community, Christians should not apologize for having a worldview through which they interpret the world and literature.  

("A Christian Philosophy of Literature" in The Christian Imagination, p. 31.)

Literature is all about understanding said  "beliefs and experiences." Reason #83582950 why I hate postmodernism is that it strips literature of all meaning. Wayne C. Booth, one of my Chicago School (=great books) homies, described two possible functions of art: "showing" and "telling." "Showing" simply draws a picture; "telling" comments on it. We have a word to describe art which simply "shows": BAD. That kind of thing is the realm of art students in Drawing 101 who need to practice their drapery, or the budding poet who needs to master the form of a sonnet. But postmodernism seems to believe that complacently stalling here indefinitely is ok. In reality, it's sophomoric. Also naïve, because who are we kidding? Everybody has an agenda, whether they admit it or not.

 

Rant over, carry on.

I am woman, hear me roar

It's finals week, and my lucky professor has a rant on feminist literary theory waiting for him. I got so personally invested in it, I decided to immortalize it here for posterity.

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In “When We Dead Awaken: Writing as Re-Vision,” Adrienne Rich argues that revision is necessary in order for women to find their place in the canon of literature. The problem with this statement rests in three underlying assumptions: First, that women cannot relate to the experiences their male counterparts describe; second, that the existing depictions of women in literature are weak and unrealistic; and third, that dwelling on this perceived disunity will somehow promote efforts to create unity.

Writing about the literary potential of the twentieth century, Rich anticipates that “at this moment for women writers in particular, there is the challenge and promise of a whole new psychic geography to be explored” (513). Rich conflates the distinction between universal realities and particular experiences. Is it really the case that men’s description of the human condition is unhelpful because it is not comprehensive? For example, one of the most universal experiences for humans is the case of falling in love. Outward factors and circumstances may vary between individuals, but everybody, regardless of gender, race, age, etc. is capable of synthesizing these experiences and thereby identifying the overarching phenomenon. Instead, by creating a fundamental dichotomy between male and female versions of the of same experience, feminists such as Rich wander dangerously close to erasing any concept of the human condition. There is no longer a single, unifying constant which brings mankind together

The second flaw is Rich’s characterization of the female presence in western literature. In western literature, a woman “meets the image of Woman in books written by men. She finds a terror and a dream, she finds a beautiful pale face, she finds La Belle Dame Sans Merci, she finds Juliet or Tess or Salome” (516). Here, Rich purposefully lists a string of pathetic (not tragic) heroines. While including Shakespeare, Rich could just as easily have mentioned Beatrice, Portia, or one of the Wives of Windsor. Instead, however, she picked an example of teenage melodrama. If Rich is to gloss over such characters as Antigone, Beatrice, and Helen because they are not relatable versions of womanhood, she must also dismiss Odysseus, Beowulf, and Arthur because they are idealized portraits of men as well. Meanwhile, Rich neglects to mention later, better-rounded examples of women whose actions directly challenge the behavior of the men surrounding them, such as Jane Eyre or Elizabeth Bennet.

Finally, Rich argues that painstaking revision (or the act of identifying female oppression in male-dominated literature) is necessary in order to move forward. “Re-vision-,” she writes, “the act of looking back, of seeing with fresh eyes, of entering an old text from a new critical direction – is for women more than a chapter in cultural history: it is an act of survival” (512). By calling for a separate, female-oriented body of literature, Rich adopts the same mindset she accuses male writers of implementing: One-sided perspective. While it is necessary to address the faults of the past in order to effectively move forward, it is very easy to make the mistake of defining oneself by these problems. By understanding women as victims of patriarchy, Rich paints a reactionary image of femininity. The basis of a correct understanding of man- or woman-hood is by first understanding humanity. Variables such as gender and race add further depth.

Revision is not the answer to female oppression in literature. Instead, by searching for the common, universally-applicable threads of humanity, readers discover the shared dignity men and women can enjoy in creation.

Semester in review

When you ask for this:

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurp'd town to another due,

Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,

But am betroth'd unto your enemy;

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

(Donne, Holy Sonnet #14)  

You end up with this.

I struck the board, and cried, "No more;

                         I will abroad!

What? shall I ever sigh and pine?

My lines and life are free, free as the road,

Loose as the wind, as large as store.

          Shall I be still in suit?

Have I no harvest but a thorn

To let me blood, and not restore

What I have lost with cordial fruit?

          Sure there was wine

Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn

    Before my tears did drown it.

      Is the year only lost to me?

          Have I no bays to crown it,

No flowers, no garlands gay? All blasted?

                  All wasted?

Not so, my heart; but there is fruit,

            And thou hast hands.

Recover all thy sigh-blown age

On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute

Of what is fit and not. Forsake thy cage,

             Thy rope of sands,

Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee

Good cable, to enforce and draw,

          And be thy law,

While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.

          Away! take heed;

          I will abroad.

Call in thy death's-head there; tie up thy fears;

          He that forbears

         To suit and serve his need

          Deserves his load."

But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild

          At every word,

Methought I heard one calling, Child!

          And I replied My Lord.

(Herbert, The Collar) 

Not even me

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things? Who will bring a charge against God’s elect? God is the one who justifies; who is the one who condemns? Christ Jesus is He who died, yes, rather who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who also intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Just as it is written,

“For Your sake we are being put to death all day long;
We were considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8:31-39 

The problem of evil and other cheery things

Or, why you shouldn't focus on one realm of theology at the expense of the others.

 

In keeping with what has become the confessional nature of this blog, there are two things I must admit to from yesterday:

1. My mind wandered in chapel.
2. I'm glad it did.

For a year now, the problem of evil has been randomly plaguing my mind. Depending on each person, there are some things which are easier to obey God in than others. For example, as an individual who has gone on record for thanking a cop for a license plate citation, fits of rage generally aren't my problem. But when it comes to verses like, "The secret things belong to the Lord our God," my reaction is typically: "BUT WHY DO THERE HAVE TO BE SECRET THINGS?!!??!?!" Without much more of an explanation for the reason God let evil exist than, "It's for His glory," Sarah, who operates on logic and reason, breaks down. I am my namesake.

Enter ROMANS 9.

 

At the same time, I am a good sober Calvinist. Namby pamby angst at not being included in the inside information of God's providence gets answered with "who are you, O [wo]man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, 'Why did you make me like this,' will it?" God, who is, well, God, has this figured out. Quit whining.

 

While all of this theology is correct, my attitude began to move in a dangerous direction. Without realizing it, my view of my relationship with God began to take on keywords such as  "stoic," 'detached," and "cold."

 

Enter CHAPEL.

 

Bad Christian alert: I don't remember what the speaker was saying. But somehow it got me thinking about all of the above. In the midst of all that, this suddenly dawned on me:

 

A detached, cold God, who arbitrarily allows evil into the world He created would not send His son into it to die an excruciating, cosmically-humiliating death in order to redeem us from said evil. He would not personally involve Himself.

And so we come back to the essence of the Gospel, and the need to daily remind ourselves of the reality of all that Christ has done for us. When you focus on God's sovereignty and meanwhile forget to dwell on His lovingkindness, you end up crying in a parking lot for an hour over the apparent meaninglessness of the crap which has happened (or that you're scared will happen) in your life*.

 

Enter SARAH, ascending SOAPBOX.

 

We rightly advocate the need for precise theology. But in doing so, we must remember that incomplete theology can be just as dangerous as the incorrect variety as well. We are not going to get by living on only half the story. God is just and God is good. He is powerful and also loving. He is Creator and Redeemer.

 

This side of eternity, we will never get a rationally-satisfying answer for the problem of evil. But the work of Christ reassures us. The words of Job, whose story essentially revolves around this problem, come to mind:

 

“As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives,
And at the last He will take His stand on the earth.
Even after my skin is destroyed,
Yet from my flesh I shall see God;
Whom I myself shall behold,
And whom my eyes will see and not another.
My heart faints within me!”

 

-----

*This is, of course, just an example and obviously never actually happened.

Art history shenanigans

We are now studying Byzantine Art in our class, and today we looked at this mosaic of the emperor Justinian from the church of San Vitale in Ravenna (Italy). Does anything seem unusual about this?

THE BEATLES ARE STANDING ON THE LEFT.

THE BEATLES DISCOVERED TIME TRAVEL.

In which I contemplate my little-ness

 

So I'm supposed to be writing a paper on the American Revolution right now, but somehow I got sidetracked and found myself looking at pictures from the Hubble. The one above, "Ultra-Deep Field," apparently depicts 10,000 galaxies. 10,000 GALAXIES. CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE THAT???

 

And then it hit me that the God who made THAT is so invested in my life that not only does He daily sustain it, He also died for me so that I don't end up getting what I deserve....I get infinitely better. Me, who wouldn't show up on this picture if you zoomed in a million* times, because we are looking at entire GALAXIES here. You know when you have those moments when your brain shuts down because it can't deal with the information you just threw at it? Yeah.

When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars, which You have ordained;
What is man that You take thought of him,
And the son of man that You care for him?
(Psalm 8:3-4)

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*I have no idea if this is true, it's just the liberal arts major talking.

Reverting back to my old ways

In which I return to the blog with this startling bit of self-awareness:

 

GOOD HEAVENS YOU WOULD HAVE MORE FUN AT A FUNERAL THAN YOU WOULD HANGING OUT WITH ME LATELY.

 

I need a party or something. The thing that tells me this is that I have no desire to have a party. It's disturbingly similar to the fabulous old homeschooling days, when I thrived on weeks with little-to-no human interaction, because books.

 

A few things on my mind which I expect nobody will care about except me. But this is my blog and I can do what I want with it and you can just stop reading if you're bored. Ahaahahaha.

1. Being the devoted contrarian that I am, I've spent the last year or so hiding out in the Alamo of Sarah's Mind, pretending not to care about Housewife Theologian. I've always lived in horror of becoming that freakishly-domestic girl who obsesses over books on how to be a good wife as a way of dealing with her lack of husband. It's always seemed....pathetic. Anyways, despite all my best efforts, the more I read by Aimee Byrd, the more I like her. Dare I say kindred spirit? Too late, I just did. Going to have to ironically give her book a shot in the midst of all my single glory.
2. In my literary criticism class, our final project is a paper/presentation demonstrating our own literary theory as inspired by the sources we have read. The idea is to generate a writing sample for grad school. It looks like mine is going to be some kind of synthesis of the Chicago School (think Mortimer Adler and the Great Books) and Tolstoy's What is Art? Along the way, we have to refute/interact with those who would oppose our ideas (I have no idea how we'll pull this off in just 10-pages). Anyways, this ties into some ideas for posts that I've been keeping on the backburner for quite a while now. Ever since I started college, I've been struck by the lack of attention the conservative Reformed world gives to the arts. I get why, but I think it's also a valid forum for discussion, and it's something I'd like to focus on in my own career. So I'm foreseeing some of this project appearing on the blog as I write.
3. This one I'm kind of shocked I haven't mentioned yet: In 9 weeks, I fly out to England to study in Cambridge for the semester. Time is starting to move unsettlingly quickly. It's weird to be so close to something you've dreamed about doing for so long. What a time to be alive.

The gritty side of spirituality

Then Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When he saw that he had not prevailed against him, he touched the socket of his thigh; so the socket of Jacob’s thigh was dislocated while he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the dawn is breaking.” But he said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” He said, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel; for you have striven with God and with men and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him and said, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And he blessed him there. So Jacob named the place Peniel, for he said, “I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been preserved.” 

(Genesis 32:24-30) 

This passage has been one of the constants in a year of uncertainty. In the nights of exasperated prayer, I've felt exactly like Jacob as my will went to battle against God's. Slowly, I'm learning not to trust what I want anymore. It's being fixated on a brushstroke in the painting only God sees.

The thing about 2014 is that these battles have followed one another closely by the heels. I move on from one situation and all the sudden something new shows up. The night is getting long and Jacob's exhaustion is tangible. It becomes tempting to quit. But the striking thing about this story is that Jacob refused to give in until he received a blessing.

Obedience to God is not a passive activity. Christ alludes to this in His story of the widow and the judge. We need to present God with His promises until we recognize them in our lives. Not because God is a detached bureaucrat in the cosmic DMV who needs constant nagging to accomplish anything; instead, our perseverance builds our reliance on Him. Two and a half years ago, I realized my dad was going to die. By far, the intensity of that situation trumps everything I have gone through since. But God brought me through it. Sometimes, God's will is going to be terrifying. What makes us survive is holding Him to His promises; confidence in His faithfulness is the only antidote to our doubts.

I can't explain why taking my dad from me so prematurely is the wisest plan for my life. It's a question I struggle with every day, and one I probably will never find an answer to this side of eternity. The dark providences of life can seem to be utterly irrational. But what I'm learning, painfully, is that God's plan is always  better than my own. The great thing about losing to God is that it's actually winning. In the minor trials I've been through, it's only when I admitted defeat that God unveils more of the picture and I see how foolish any other alternative would have been. During the clash of wills, God was the one who had my best interests in mind. Not me. God has been faithful to me in the trials that I can explain, and because of this, I know He will remain by my side in the the ones that defy reason.

"And He went a little beyond them, and fell on His face and prayed, saying, 'My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will.'" (Matthew 26:39)

After darkness, Light

“Awake, sleeper,
And arise from the dead,
And Christ will shine on you.” 

(Ephesians 5:14) 

The interesting thing about this verse, besides its beauty, is its context. Paul is in the middle of a discussion of the new life in Christ, urging Christians to reject the darkness of what the world has to offer, when he inserts this bit of poetry. He's throwing us back to what Christ has done for us in salvation. In the grand language of redemption, our sanctification echoes our regeneration. Every day we need to be roused from the slumber of sin and complacency to experience the glory of Christ.

There is such a depth to the theology of sanctification. It has nothing to do with proving our worthiness to God. It's expressing our gratitude. It's telling the world the story of our salvation. It's anticipating our future, and the last time we will ever arise from a slumber.

Our lives are to be living pictures of the work Christ has done, continues to do, and promises to perfect, in our souls. God is still glorified each time we spiritually jolt awake and realize we have been lazy in our walks; His grace shines in the mercy of waking us up.

Kind of hits home.

The hole in my holiness

Kevin DeYoung:

The hole in our holiness is that we don't really care much about it. Passionate exhortation to pursue gospel-driven holiness is barely heard in most of our churches. It's not that we don't talk about sin or encourage decent behavior. Too many sermons are basically self-help seminars on becoming a better you. That's moralism and it's not helpful. Any gospel which says only what you must do and never announces what Christ has done is no gospel at all. So I'm not talking about getting beat up every Sunday for watching SportsCenter and driving an SUV. I'm talking about the failure of Christians, especially younger generations and especially those most disdainful of "religion" and "legalism," to take seriously one of the great aims of our redemption and one of the required evidences for eternal life - our holiness. 

J.C. Ryle, a nineteenth-century Bishop of Liverpool, was right: 'We must be holy, because this is one grand end and purpose for which Christ came into the world....Jesus is a complete Savior. He does not merely take away the guilt of a believer's sin, he does more - he breaks its power (1 Pet. 1:2; Rom. 8:29; Eph. 1:4; 2 Tim. 1:9; Heb. 12:10).' My fear is that as we rightly celebrate, and in some quarters rediscover, all that Christ has saved us from, we are giving little thought and making little effort concerning all that Christ has saved us to. Shouldn't those most passionate about the gospel and God's glory also be those most dedicated to the pursuit of godliness? I worry that there is an enthusiasm gap and no one seems to mind.

(The Hole in Our Holiness, pp. 10-11)

This has been weighing heavily on my mind recently. Ever since I started college, there has been a tension between what I have always believed and what I am surrounded by. In the first two years, I've tried to negotiate how I can reconcile the two, and most of the time it's ended up with me just fumbling my way through. This summer it became obvious that I needed to put my money where my mouth is, and decide once and for all in what direction my life is headed. God used several friends to remind me of the beauty of what I believe and has mercifully renewed my love for my heritage. I'm seeing how much I have undervalued these relationships in favor of others that are less edifying. It's scary to think how easily I could have lost what I have spent the last ten years of my life building.

 

Looking back, I'm seeing that in these last two years, my walk with God has been mainly just coasting. In the business of college-dom, I've become distracted from the end goal: To love God and serve his people. Sin has begun to lose some of its ugliness. Holiness has gotten a little...dorky.

 

If sin is no big deal, neither is the Gospel.

 

I don't want to be complacent anymore. I'm done with talking about loving God instead of actually loving Him. My faith without works is dead.

When shall we know thee as we ought,
And fear, and love, and serve aright!
When shall we, out of trial brought,
Be perfect in the land of light!
Lord, may we day by day prepare
To see thy face, and serve thee there.

The Pearl

MATTHEW xiii

I know the ways of learning; both the head

And pipes that feed the press, and make it run;

What reason hath from nature borrowed,

Or of itself, like a good huswife, spun

In laws and policy; what the stars conspire,

What willing nature speaks, what forc'd by fire;

Both th'old discoveries and the new-found seas,

The stock and surplus, cause and history;

All these stand open, or I have the keys:

         Yet I love thee.

I know the ways of honour; what maintains

The quick returns of courtesy and wit;

In vies of favours whether party gains

When glory swells the heart and moldeth it

To all expressions both of hand and eye,

Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie,

And bear the bundle wheresoe'er it goes;

How many drams of spirit there must be

To sell my life unto my friends or foes:

         Yet I love thee.

I know the ways of pleasure; the sweet strains

The lullings and the relishes of it;

The propositions of hot blood and brains;

What mirth and music mean; what love and wit

Have done these twenty hundred years and more;

I know the projects of unbridled store;

My stuff is flesh, not brass; my senses live,

And grumble oft that they have more in me

Than he that curbs them, being but one to five:

         Yet I love thee.

I know all these and have them in my hand;

Therefore not seeled but with open eyes

I fly to thee, and fully understand

Both the main sale and the commodities;

And at what rate and price I have thy love,

With all the circumstances that may move.

Yet through the labyrinths, not my grovelling wit,

But thy silk twist let down from heav'n to me

Did both conduct and teach me how by it

         To climb to thee.

George Herbert

8am redemption

So today is Wednesday. I do not like Wednesdays. Up until this semester, they were never offensive to my delicate sensibilities, but this Fall.....whew. My schedule blew up and I am running around from one place to another from 8-5 before I meander back home to go to church. Somewhere I fit all my homework in. Oh my, it's a party.

 

This morning I was radiating joy, what with running late to school and panicking about an exam I had not studied for in a class by a famously difficult professor in a department where blow-off classes do not exist (HISTORY ALWAYS AND FOREVER BABY!!!). The day did not bode well.

 

But then it happened.

 

It was the end of Art History and we had just been discussing this sculpture. The key thing to understand about this period of Greek art is that they had apparently just discovered the smile, and naturally they overdid it and tacked one onto EVERYBODY. Think I'm exaggerating? Just google "Archaic Smile."



My apologies for the naked man, I know this is a family-friendly blog



I think this short exchange just about sums up the class's appreciation for the glory that is this piece of art:

Prof: "What does it look like is happening to him?"

Class: "Dying."

Prof: "How does he feel about it?"

My friend Bethany: "Fabulous."

Anyway, as if this could not be improved upon, within the last minutes of class, I sensed my professor was beginning to feel conflicted about something. After a few moments of consideration, she announced, "Ah, what the heck, we have time. This sculpture reminds me of a video. Have you guys ever seen the worst movie death scene ever?" What followed was the best 68 seconds of class I have yet experienced.

 

 

You'll thank me later.

On Beatrice Portinari

 

Beyond the widest of the circling spheres
A sigh which leaves my heart aspires to move.
A new celestial influence which Love
Bestows on it by virtue of his tears
Impels it ever upwards. As it nears
Its goal of longing in the realms above
The pilgrim spirit sees a vision of
A soul in glory whom the host reveres.
Gazing at her, it speaks of what it sees
In subtle words I do not comprehend
Within my heart forlorn which bids it tell.
That noble one is named, I apprehend,
For frequently it mentions Beatrice;
This much, beloved ladies, I know well. 

Dante, La Vita Nuova, Sonnet 25

The story of Dante and Beatrice at first glance does not seem like a very appealing romance. The two characters never get around to developing a deep, emotional relationship. In fact, it may have even been one-sided on Dante's part. And it has a tragic ending when Beatrice dies at the age of 24 after having married somebody else. Not exactly satisfying.

 

At the same time, it is one of my favorite love stories. Dante was prevented from ever actualizing his love for Beatrice, but he still considered it the most significant relationship of his life. He never lost sight of her beauty. Not because she was a lovely person in and of herself (although I'm sure she was); instead, Dante saw mirrored in his human love for Beatrice the divine love of God. He went on to flesh this out in the Divine Comedy as he makes his journey from Hell to Heaven to be reunited with Beatrice as she leads him to the presence of God Himself. As they travel through the heavens, her beauty increases as they move closer to Christ.

 

While much of this is clearly allegory, the thing that makes it so forceful for me is how deeply it echoes reality. It wasn't till I was in college and witnessed the dating frenzy myself that I realized just how powerful a girl's influence is over a guy. The stories of Solomon and David being brought down by the women they fell for have acquired a very poignant edge as I've now watched it happen before my eyes. I've also seen how much good a godly girl is able to accomplish through her influence on a young man (even when romantic interest isn't a factor). Beatrice was not afraid to call Dante out when he failed. She maintained a high level of intelligence and self-respect. She was also a kind, gracious individual. She challenged Dante. I think as girls, we tend to underestimate just how important these qualities are in our relationships with guys, be it brother, friend, or partner.

 

In contrast with our culture's abysmally-low expectations, we should appreciate how beautiful it is when people point one another to Christ in their relationships. There's a reason the Bible describes the relationship between Christ and the Church in the language of marriage. Divine love makes human love more beautiful, and human love offers a deeper understanding of divine love.

 

This summer, I came across this sonnet by John Donne which completely reminded me of Dante's view of Beatrice. What a legacy.

Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravishèd,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.

John Donne, Holy Sonnet 17

A quick aesthetic rant

I'm starting to get a little impatient with the people who automatically dismiss a work of art as soon as they hear it is religious. They associate "Christian art" with "bad art." I'm also impatient with the "Christian artists" whose low standards perpetuate the stereotype.

 

Time to revisit the expectations we used to hold ourselves to.

 

Christian Art

 

Christian Art

 

Christian Art

On reading the great books

One of the most beautiful passages on literature that has crossed my path.

"I had an idea that a Man might pass a very pleasant life in this manner - Let him on a certain day read a certain page of full Poesy or distilled Prose, and let him wander with it, and muse upon it, and reflect from it, and bring home to it, and prophesy upon it, and dream upon it: until it becomes stale - But when will it do so? Never..." 

Keats

The greatness that is Shakespeare

For every person who asks why I still bother to read him:

"Shakespeare is above all writers, at least above all modern writers, the poet of nature; the poet that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life. His characters are not modified by the customs of particular places, unpracticed by the rest of the world; by the peculiarities of studies or professions, which can operate but upon small numbers; or by the accidents of transient fashions or temporary opinions: they are the genuine progeny of common humanity, such as the world will always supply, and observation will always find. His persons act and speak by the influence of those general passions and principles by which all minds are agitated, and the whole system of life is continued in motion. In the writings of other poets a character is too often an individual; in those of Shakespeare is commonly a species."

Samuel Johnson, Preface to Shakespeare 

Reminds me of Cowper

Alexander Pope:

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
There shallow thoughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fired at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
In fearless youth we tempt the height of arts,
While from the bounded level of our mind
Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind:
But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprise
New distant scenes of endless science rise!

(An Essay on Criticism, 1.15-24)

Every day of my life.

Mind = blown

"...it may be said that the Bible certainly does not proceed on the assumption that the divine decree is inconsistent with the free agency of man. It clearly reveals that God has decreed the free acts of man, but also that the actors are none the less free and therefore responsible for their acts, Gen. 50:19, 20; Acts 2:23; 4:27, 28. It was determined that the Jews should bring about the crucifixion of Jesus; yet they were perfectly free in their wicked course of action, and were held responsible for this crime. There is not a single indication in Scripture that the inspired writers are conscious of a contradiction in connection with these matters. They never make an attempt to harmonize the two. This may well restrain us from assuming a contradiction here, even if we cannot reconcile both truths. 

Moreover, it should be borne in mind that God has not decreed to effectuate by His own direct action whatsoever must come to pass. The divine decree only brings certainty into the events, but does not imply that God will actively effectuate them, so that the question really resolves itself into this, whether previous certainty is consistent with free agency." 

Berkhof, Systematic Theology, p. 106

Calvinism is not determinism. Men are not robots. Once again, God brings together two seemingly discordant ideas and causes them to work in harmony together.

I'm becoming completely enamored of systematic theology. There are so many nuances but they all come together in such an elegant whole. In it we begin "to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses all knowledge..." (Eph. 3:18-19)

More art history

Once again, the school year is about grace us with its presence and as I have another art history class this semester, I am reminded of my aforesaid textbook plans. This time, as selfies are the current film-related craze, I would like to honor them here. I hereby subtitle this post, "Memorable 'But First, Let Me Paint a Selfie' Moments in Art History."

Without further ado:

Van Eyck in The Arnolfini Marriage

Raphael in The School of Athens

Velasquez in Las Meninas

Van Gogh...well, this one is more after the fact. Just making sure everybody's paying attention.

Wait...what?

I read therefore I blog

It's been a while since I've really given this blog any serious attention. Sometimes I wonder if this experiment might be over. Other times I compulsively type up rambling posts on strangely-specific topics plaguing my mind and then delete them right away because I'm emoting rather than saying anything worthwhile.

And then there are the days I think about starting over. The further back I read the more cringe-worthy posts I find. After all, there is no arguing with me in my 15-year old infinite wisdom. Maybe I should go for a clean slate? But then my history major half emerges and advocates for historical accuracy and I figure I should keep building on what is already here, just like we in real life add layers (hopefully of maturity) as each year goes by. 

There's also the fact that nobody knows about this. So basically I'm writing to myself. I guess it'd be fun to talk about the ideas with peeps but I like the anonymity too. It's kind of a little joke. Also this habit probably connects to the existence of the embarrassing posts of yesteryear. I have to make sure my acquaintances keep thinking I'M PERFECTLY WELL-ADJUSTED. (See if I write it in all caps that means it's true.)

One instance of foresight I didn't realize I'd appreciate so much: my choice of blog name. I spent at least a year agonizing over what to call this before I ever went through with making it. At the time, I liked "Ex Libris" because I was a manic bibliophile. Midway through college, I find the phrase has accumulated further meaning. Like C.S. Lewis and the medievals he wrote about, the person I am and the ideas I entertain all come from those who came before me. The older I get, the more my debt to my predecessors grows visible. I am fundamentally a collage of the books I read.

So that's why I keep writing here. It gives me the ability to go back and watch the layers build upon themselves. I want to remember the authors who continue to mold me into a better-rounded individual. It's one of the ways that I can see God working through history into my own life.

"If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants." - Isaac Newton

The pietism of America

It looks as if the general consensus is that America, and more broadly, the West, is now a post-Christian culture. Perhaps even a post-religious (in the traditional sense of the word) society. You hear the stories of public prayer being banned in high schools while the same institutions provide rooms for Muslims to practice salat. Fox News cries out in uproar as the Ten Commandments are removed from buildings of state. And while mysticism abounds in pop culture, there is no room for the supernatural in respectable academia.

While I tend to agree with the assessment, I would like to add my own observation. As secular as we seem to be, we are just as religious as we ever were.

In fact, the level of devotion I see around me would make any itinerant evangelist of yore weep for joy. Consistent, undistracted, faithful alliegance to what is held most dearly; fiery opposition when it is threatened.

What am I talking about? All we need to do is watch the calendar.

We westerners remain steadfast to our Judeo-Christian heritage: We worship on the weekend.

The thing that consumes our thoughts, that gets us through the workweek, that brings us the most happiness is the thing we instinctively turn to as soon as we have a spare moment.

Sleep
Friends
Family
Good food
Bad food
Hobbies
Sports
Entertainment
Culture
Pleasure in all of its various forms

Tradition

Christ?

Rabbit trail theology

My honors class is studying Pietism and Puritanism in the seventeenth century, so we recently read Pia Desideria. I thought this was an insightful passage on the need for the right motives in studying theology:

"When men's minds are stuffed with such a theology which, while it preserves the foundation of faith from the Scriptures, builds on it with so much wood, hay, and stubble of human inquisitiveness that the gold can no longer be seen, it becomes exceedingly difficult to grasp and find pleasure in the real simplicity of Christ and his teaching. This is so because men's taste becomes accustomed to the more charming things of reason, and after a while the simplicity of Christ and his teaching appears to be tasteless. Such knowledge, which remains without love, "puffs up" (1 Cor. 8:1). It leaves man in his love of self; indeed, it fosters and strengthens such love more and more. Subtleties unknown to the Scriptures usually have their origin, in the case of those who introduce them, in a desire to exhibit their sagacity and their superiority over others, to have a great reputation, and to derive benefit therefrom in the world. Moreover, these subtleties are themselves of such a nature that they stimulate, in those who deal with them, not a true fear of God but a thirst for honor and other impulses which are unbecoming a true Christian. When people are practiced in such things they begin to have great illusions and introduce them at once into the church of Christ, even if they know little or nothing of the one thing needful, which they hold in little esteem. They can hardly be kept from taking to market what gives them the most pleasure, and they generally concentrate on something that is not very edifying to their hearers who are seeking salvation." (p. 56)

In which I offend all

Hello peep(s),

I return to the blogosphere with this eye-opening conclusion drawn from my current American history class: The American colonists were the original conspiracy theorists. Ok, so there were conspiracy theories before this point in history, but my statement would be a little less interesting if I acknowledged that, now wouldn't it be? The Americans made it a trend.

First, there's the Salem Witch Trials. Do I even need to elaborate on this one?

Next, there's the whole pre-revolution fiasco. Here I'm going to sound very unpatriotic. As Lemony Snicket said, you still have time to stop reading if you're afraid this will disturb you.

Still do.

Stop. Do it.

Ok, you were warned, my social conscience is clear. The way I understand it, the whole time period between the French and Indian War and the 1770's is pretty much a cycle of bad communication:

• The British try to run their empire more efficiently by passing seemingly innocuous bills.
• The Americans see red and convince themselves and others THAT THE BRITS ARE OUT TO GET THEM AND DESTROY THEIR WAY OF LIFE AND MAKE THEM INTO MEDIEVAL SERFS OMG TYRANNY!!! And you think I'm exaggerating.
• The Americans react and pass a bill in a colony's legislature declaring parliament's jurisdiction in the colonies illegal, or, more snazzily, dump a bunch of tea into a harbor.
• The British re-react and pass a more stringent series of "Acts," turning the whole thing into a power play, so, the Americans having created a self-actualizing prophesy, the cycle repeats itself.

Two concessions: Yes, the Americans should have had representation in order for the system to work, and yes, the British did hypocritically do a few things in the colonies that were illegal in Britania itself (I.e. 2nd Quartering Act). But the latter was after the Americans had almost driven them to it - they had to maintain control of their empire otherwise the whole thing would fall apart and actually endanger their lives. Beyond that, the tariffs the Americans had to pay were already in place in the rest of the empire, including the homeland of England herself. What was so special about that part of the empire that made them exempt?

Dare I say it? The colonists were being a liiiiiiitle bit dramatic. Rule #1 of history: Don't trust the propaganda. Case in point: The Boston Massacre, the name of which is even an exaggeration. Look it up, it wasn't what the revolutionaries made it out to be. But if Paul Revere had depicted the "snowball fight" and they'd just called it "The Butt-Kicking Several Smart Aleck Teenagers Got For Taunting An On-Duty Soldier," they probably wouldn't have gotten as many outraged people to join their cause. My reaction to them is fairly similar to the one I have when listening to the Fox News pundits pontificate on Obama's not-so-hidden communist agenda for absolute control of America. Really?

From here, we Americans perfected the art of conspiracy theorizing: JFK's assassination, the moon landing, the 9/11 Truthers....the list goes on and on. 

In the case that some of this information is less than factual, well, maybe there's a conspiracy amongst my professors.

Or maybe I just want you to think that.