On being young, restless, and reformed

A few years ago I came across this passage, and even though it's kind of an aside, God used it to minister to my soul. It's become one of my favorite passages in the Bible.

Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, a good distance from the camp, and he called it the tent of meeting. And everyone who sought the Lord would go out to the tent of meeting which was outside the camp. And it came about, whenever Moses went out to the tent, that all the people would arise and stand, each at the entrance of his tent, and gaze after Moses until he entered the tent. Whenever Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent; and the Lord would speak with Moses. When all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would arise and worship, each at the entrance of his tent. Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend. When Moses returned to the camp, his servant Joshua, the son of Nun, a young man, would not depart from the tent.

Exodus 33:7-11

The older I get (and I'm not even old enough for that to sound like a serious sentence opener), the more I understand why older Christians get so jazzed when they see or talk about young people faithfully attending church. I think I always assumed that any self-respecting church member would be there when the doors were open. Oh yeah, I even wrote about it. Why turn something I had been raised to do since infancy into something nigh heroic?

Then I went to college. So naive. So precious.

All of the sudden I was the one tempted to shave off Wednesday nights, or give mom looks when we were staying too long, or sleep in during Sunday school after being up till 3 the night before. All of the sudden I was rethinking my doctrinal commitments because of the spell of new and previously foreign relationships I was experiencing. All of the sudden I was the person I had been judging this entire time.

And then, after God sent me a wake up call and snapped me out of that funk, I got the chance to truly live on my own for the first time. I had my first experience of "adulting" at church. All of the new friends I made were there because they wanted to be there. There were no parents or rules or precedents. Instead, there were lots of deadlines and homework and social expectations. But you know what? Most of these twenty-somethings made it to church every Sunday. And most of them made it to the midweek student Bible study. And a respectable amount of them were involved in various ministries in the congregation. We're talking PhD students in one of the most prestigious, and therefore demanding, universities in the world. And they never missed church.

Heck, that's understating it. They were devoted to church.

That's when I learned how beautiful that kind of thing is. When I saw these faithful (young) people at church, I was seeing Joshua standing by the tent of meeting. They understood how crucially important meeting together was for successfully taking on the pressures and temptations of the upcoming week. They understood that communing with God together was the best way to spend time with their friends.

We need more young people like that.

A year ago, I would have ended this post with Ecclesiastes 12:1: "Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth...." After reading the subsequent paragraph, though, I've realized how relevant the whole passage is to this situation. When my week isn't anchored in corporate worship, things get funky. When my heart isn't truly in it, my faith weakens and everything gets a little existential.

Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come and the years draw near when you will say, “I have no delight in them”; before the sun and the light, the moon and the stars are darkened, and clouds return after the rain; in the day that the watchmen of the house tremble, and mighty men stoop, the grinding ones stand idle because they are few, and those who look through windows grow dim; and the doors on the street are shut as the sound of the grinding mill is low, and one will arise at the sound of the bird, and all the daughters of song will sing softly. Furthermore, men are afraid of a high place and of terrors on the road; the almond tree blossoms, the grasshopper drags himself along, and the caperberry is ineffective. For man goes to his eternal home while mourners go about in the street. Remember Him before the silver cord is broken and the golden bowl is crushed, the pitcher by the well is shattered and the wheel at the cistern is crushed; then the dust will return to the earth as it was, and the spirit will return to God who gave it. “Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher, “all is vanity!”

On Psalm 63

A Psalm of David, when he was in the wilderness of Judah.

O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly;

My soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You,

In a dry and weary land where there is no water.

Thus I have seen You in the sanctuary,

To see Your power and Your glory.

Because Your lovingkindness is better than life,

My lips will praise You.

So I will bless You as long as I live;

I will lift up my hands in Your name.

My soul is satisfied as with marrow and fatness,

And my mouth offers praises with joyful lips.

When I remember You on my bed,

I meditate on You in the night watches,

For You have been my help,

And in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.

My soul clings to You;

Your right hand upholds me. 

(verses 1-8) 

Since this summer, I've been occasionally filling in to help teach Sunday School for the 6-7 year-old crowd at church. Right now, the class is going through a simplified version of Pilgrim's Progress. Initially, I looked at this experience as an opportunity to be servant-oriented and selfless and Reformed and aren't-I-a-nice-Christian-girl-helping-with-Sunday-School. However, I seem to have forgotten the reason we still read the book 350 years after it was written. Each time I've watched the kids take in the lesson from a particular passage, I get wrapped into it and God convicts me of how I am dealing with these very issues in my own life at the moment. I'm learning with the kiddos.

Yesterday, we went over Christian and Hopeful's escape from Vanity Fair and eventual stay in the Plain of Ease. It reminded me of my own experiences in the past year of my life, having gone through a particularly difficult autumn and my subsequent respite this spring. My life in these past twelve months has echoed this journey out of despair to joy. But, being a good Reformed Baptist and having read the story before, I know what the kids will be learning next week. I'm feeling the temptation that the pilgrims will presently encounter, to take the blessings of God for granted.

In contrast with 2014, where the difficult times chased one another by the heels, 2015 has been crammed full with blessings: My time in Europe was followed here by new friendships, provision and direction for the future, sweeter fellowship at church. I don't want to turn gifts which ought to point me back to God into things which distract me from Him. I'm beginning to understand just another facet of how responsibility accompanies blessing. When you feel like you're on top of this world, it takes discipline to pursue the things of the next one.

May my mouth continually offer "praises with joyful lips."

May my soul cling to God.

May I never forget His faithfulness to me.

On majoring in English

One of the occupational hazards of pursuing a liberal arts degree is mastering the PR work necessary to defend such an un-lucrative life choice. Fortunately, I thought ahead and decided to get two useless majors. That way, they can be buddies and entertain each other while I find an acceptable job. Or wait, isn't that what grad school is for?

Ah, but I jest. I mean, not the job-hunting part....that is all too painfully true. It's the charge that liberal arts degrees are useless that gets me a little unsettled. I could turn this post into a (classical) apology for my degree choices, pulling out all the arguments that I've been hoarding. These have been accumulating each time a misguided (please pray for them) friend makes the mistake of dismissing the liberal arts. I try to maintain an outwardly sanctified demeanor, but a battle wages inside my head: "BEWARE THE DAY I SMITE YOUR GAUCHE COMMENTS WITH MY MAJESTIC BLOG POSTS!!!" Ok, too much Beowulf lately.

Anyways, all of those reasons for my degree are valid and meaningful and good, and I wouldn't have needed to even be doing an English major to produce them. What I'm more interested in talking about right now is the consequence I didn't anticipate.

Of all the providences I have experienced thus far in my life, one of the most spiritually-beneficial has been my training in English Literature. It has completely transformed the way I read the Bible.

It's taught me the art of close-reading. You don't take a single word of a sonnet for granted. Learning this has trained my eye to dissect passages of Scripture that I would have passed over before, all because of one word that stood out from the rest.

It's taught me to view all the parts of a text as an interconnected whole. Oftentimes, authors utilize particular words and metaphors to tie specific passages of their novel/play/poem together. In hunting for these in literature, I've learned to trace these same word-trails throughout Scripture. The principle of reading syntopically has trained me to follow a theme outside of the specific Bible book I encountered it in. Because, usually, it's there in all of the other books as well.

It's taught me how important context, both textual and historical, is to truly understanding a text. The argument and intent of the original author is more important than our personal agendas.

It's awakened me to the artistry of the Bible. In learning to spot foreshadowing in Shakespeare, I've been trained to discover it in the prophets. Understanding typology has awoken me to how intricate a picture Isaac was of Christ.  Reading and relating to the deeply personal work of Herbert or Donne has drawn me to the equally-exquisite poetry of the Psalms. The longing of the metaphysical poets for union with God makes me more conscious of the longing the prophets felt for reconciliation for Israel.

I could go on, but these are some of the most obvious examples. Before I was trained to inquisitively read literature, I had always approached the Bible complacently. I read; I didn't analyze. I think a lot of church kids tend to wear "Bible goggles" when we read Scripture - because we're told that it's the inspired word of God, we take what we are reading for granted. We don't give it much thought, because we're reading it at face value.

My English courses have changed me. What used to be mind-numbing work has become instinctual. This spiritual connection made a lot more sense after my time in Cambridge. Being in a seminary environment, I realized that the tools I was given in my English classes were the same as those taught in divinity studies. Whether it's Greek or Hebrew or English, we're all learning to critically analyze texts.

Liberal Arts = not that useless. Study literature, kids.

Solo-wulf

"It is a great wonder

how Almighty God in His magnificence

favors our race with rank and scope

and the gift of wisdom; His sway is wide.

Sometimes He allows the mind of a man

of distinguished birth to follow its bent,

grants him fulfillment and felicity on earth

and forts to command in his own country.

He permits him to lord it in many lands

until the man in his unthinkingness

forgets that it will ever end for him.

He indulges his desires; illness and old age

mean nothing to him; his mind is untroubled

by envy or malice or the thought of enemies

with their hate-honed swords. The whole world

conforms to his will, he is kept from the worst

until an element of overweening

enters him and takes hold

while the soul's guard, its sentry, drowses,

grown too distracted. A killer stalks him,

an archer who draws a deadly bow.

And then the man is but in the heart,

the arrow flies beneath his defenses,

the devious promptings of the demon start.

His old possessions seem paltry to him now.

He covets and resents; dishonors custom

and bestows no gold; and because of good things

that the Heavenly Powers gave him in the past

he ignores the shape of things to come.

Then finally the end arrives

when the body he was lent collapses and falls

prey to its death; ancestral possessions

and the goods he hoarded are inherited by another

who lets them go with a liberal hand."

Beowulf, lines 1724-1757

 Reminded me of this:

There is an evil that I have seen under the sun, and it lies heavy on mankind: a man to whom God gives wealth, possessions, and honor, so that he lacks nothing of all that he desires, yet God does not give him power to enjoy them, but a stranger enjoys them. This is vanity; it is a grievous evil.

Ecclesiastes 6:1-2

That imagery

The H. Scriptures. II.

OH that I knew how all thy lights combine,
            And the configurations of their glorie!
            Seeing not onely how each verse doth shine,
But all the constellations of the storie.

This verse marks that, and both do make a motion
            Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie:
            Then as dispersed herbs do watch a potion,
These three make up some Christians destinie:

Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good,
            And comments on thee: for in ev'ry thing
            Thy words do find me out, & parallels bring,
And in another make me understood. 

            Starres are poore books, & oftentimes do misse:
            This book of starres lights to eternall blisse.

George Herbert

Insta-Europe

Missing all the running around. It's starting to feel like a faraway dream.

Brecon Cathedral, Wales

Old City, Geneva

Eiffel Tower

Tours Cathedral

Montefioralle, Tuscany

Venice

Agora & Acropolis, Athens

Pompeii with Vesuvius in the background

Forum Romanum, Rome

On getting that Christian liberal arts major

Why I do it:

General revelation also has a certain value for the Christian religion. Not that it provides us with a religio naturalis, which is quite sufficient in itself and therefore renders all supernatural revelation superfluous. Such a natural religion does not exist, and is in fact impossible. Neither can it be said that the Christian derives his knowledge of God first of all from general revelation, and then supplements this with the knowledge of Christ. He derives his theological knowledge of God from special revelation only; this is his principium unicum. Yet there is a close relation between the two. Special revelation has incorporated, corrected, and interpreted general revelation. And now the Christian theologian takes his stand on the Word of God, and from that point of vantage also contemplates nature and history. He reads God's revelation with the eye of faith and in the light of God's Word, and for that very reason is able to see God's hand in nature, and His footsteps in history. He sees God in everything round about him, and is thereby lead to a proper appreciation of the world. Moreover, general revelation offers the Christian a basis, on which he can meet and argue with unbelievers. The light of the Logos that lighteth every man is also a bond that unites all men. The whole creation testifies with many voices that man is created in the image of God, and therefore cannot find rest except in God. Finally, it is also due to God's general revelation that His special revelation is not, as it were, suspended in the air, but touches the life of the world at every point. It maintains the connection between nature and grace, between the world and the kingdom of God, between the natural and the moral order, between creation and re-creation.

(Berkhof, Introductory Volume to Systematic Theology, in Systematic Theology, pp. 131-132.)

Roadtripping (part 1)

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
    Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
   Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou returnest, wilt tell me
All strange wonders that befell thee.

John Donne

As if running around Europe weren't enough excitement for one year, I took the natural course of action and planned two back-to-back roadtrips a month after getting home. What can I say? I'm 1/4 Bohemian. Gypsies and stuff. Anyways.

Trip #1: Arizona.

Three of us from my church and the one who planted us drove out to Flagstaff for a Reformed Baptist young adult conference. Got to see Drs. Jim Renihan & James White speak, so it was pretty much Disneyland for theology nerds. Ironically, the highlight of the trip was reconnecting with my soulmate friend Savannah on the drive to and from AZ. We are basically the same person, and have lived an hour and a half away from each other this whole time. Even before it was over, I knew this was one of my favorite trips....ever. Got to meet 130 other young Reformed Baptists, saw the gorgeousness that is the Southwest, and talked theology almost the whole 24-hour drive. It does not get much better.

A big group of us caravaned out to the Grand Canyon and climbed
out onto this cliff. Being Reformed Baptists, we proceeded to have a hymn sing.

Awwww

Daniel third-wheeling it

Sunrise over the Grand Canyon

My mother failed to see the humor in this picture

Following up

So a few weeks ago, I presented a paper on Jane Austen's Emma being a story containing strong christological, redemptive undertones. That was fun. Basically, we like the story because we see reflected in Emma's flaws and eventual forgiveness the promise from Genesis 3 that God will redeem us from our sin. I didn't realize it at first, but it quickly became apparent that there is a lot more you could explore in this trope.

 

One of the things I noticed was how marriage is a kind of salvation in Jane Austen. Of course, there is the obvious sociological meaning, as marriage was women's only way of ensuring their future stability in life. But leaving it at that is narrow and boring. To interpret Austen in that way is to really miss what she stood for in the bigger picture. For her, marriage was a much more holistic institution: As she makes especially evident in Emma, the person you end up with will prove to make or break you. Most important for marriage in Austen is not its physical or material repercussions, but the consequences it has for your soul. Mr. Elton's choice in wife destroys what potential there was in him to be a sympathetic character; as a team, they are insufferable human beings. Emma and Knightley, on the other hand, become better people because they are together. Same goes for such couples as Elizabeth and Darcy, Marianne and Brandon, even Anne and Wentworth.

 

Several conclusions:

1. I usually go out of my way to avoid wandering anywhere near the tents of the feminist camp in literary criticism, but I must say, Jane Austen was undeniably ahead of her time. This is not a moral version of the damsel-in-distress situation, which modern romantics have made it to be. Her heroines are not languidly waiting around for a man to save them by fulfilling their emotional (and material) needs. Instead, in a successful marriage, both the husband and wife challenge and encourage one another in such a way as to "save" their spouse in a moral, almost spiritual way. Austen is telling her readers that both the heroines and heroes of her stories are vulnerable individuals who can either be redeemed or destroyed by the individuals they ultimately marry.
2. Typical of Austen, this kind of thinking flies in the face of the trendy empowerment individualism we see everywhere (interestingly, just as Austen did when Romanticism made individualism trendy). There is no flying solo in Austen. Although they may lose important family members or travel outside of their home environments, her characters are communal beings. Community stretches people, revealing their faults and offering opportunities to improve. Marriage for Austen "saves" individuals from their attempts at autonomy, which always fail: Emma, Lizzie, and Marianne each nearly sabotage their most important relationships when they become too confident in their own judgment. In contrast, Austen's successful marriages bring the husband and wife together into a partnership, where the strengths and weaknesses of each harmonize with those of the other.
3. To continue the redemption motif, these "salvific" marriages, where the husband and wife successfully learn how to help one another, also produce fruit: They help others. The happy couples in Austen are the ones who are usually instrumental in the lives of the heroines. The Gardners reunite Lizzie with Darcy. The Westons mentor Emma (albeit imperfectly) throughout the novel, tempering her premature judgments. In both of the Bath novels, Anne Eliot and Catherine Morland are introduced (or reintroduced) to their future husbands through the generosity of couples who have taken them under their wing. Going back to my previous point, marriage for Austen isn't even just for the happiness of the husband and wife involved; it's there to ultimately improve the world around them.

Just building on this...

Milwaukee

So I've been back in the States for 5 days. Feeling restless. Feeling the culture shock.

• Instead of walking the mile and a half to the grocery store, we drive it.
• I can't shake the sense that I'm a visitor in my home (but not because my family hasn't been welcoming).
• The oldest building around here was built in the mid-19th century.
• They drink the beer cold.
• You could fit a neighborhood inside Target.
• Almost everyone I know is a white, middle class American born on this continent.
• Everybody has so much stuff. America is unbelievably wealthy.
• My bedroom is larger than some of my British friends' living rooms.

Everything looks the same as it always was, yet completely different. Maybe as the months go by, I'll feel fully at home here again. But something tells me this is what long-term traveling does to you...you leave a part of yourself behind, and it's replaced with all the perspective, values, and relationships you picked up while you were away. You see everything (and everyone) with outside eyes. Still figuring out what to make of it. But I think it's good.

What makes me happy, though, is meeting up with my best friends. Some of us talked every day, and others, barely at all. But regardless of that, each reunion has been as if nothing has changed. Despite how bewildering it kind of is to be back, these people remind me why I'm committed to being here. Especially with church. Having met so many young Reformed people in the UK who feel called to build the church in their various home countries, it makes me appreciate my own American friends all the more. It's making me see that we are the future of the church here. I'm feeling the weight of our responsibility. Responsibility is good. Hard, overwhelming, dangerous, yes. But also a blessing from God. He is using us to build His church.

So as sad as I am to no longer be in the UK, I am satisfied in knowing that I am exactly where God wants me to be. Faith comes in where His will seems scary or lonely or difficult. It's always worth it.

Besides, living back in the States means I get to wake up and to see this every morning:

advinkdsvjkdsvhvhdsjkvndskjvdshhfdyfjsdvnsd I MISSED MY ROOM SOO MUCH.