On idolatry

For all afore that seemed fayre and bright,
  Now base and contemptible did appeare,
  Compar'd to her, that shone as Phebes light,
  Amongst the lesser starres in euening cleare.
  All that her saw with wonder rauisht weare,
  And weend no mortall creature she should bee,
  But some celestiall shape, that flesh did beare:
  Yet all were glad there Florimell to see;
Yet thought that Florimell was not so faire as shee.

As guilefull Goldsmith that by secret skill,
  With golden foyle doth finely ouer spred
  Some baser metall, which commend he will
  Vnto the vulgar for good gold insted,
  He much more goodly glosse thereon doth shed,
  To hide his falshood, then if it were trew:
  So hard, this Idole was to be ared,
  That Florimell her selfe in all mens vew
She seem'd to passe: so forged things do fairest shew.

(Faerie Queene, IV.v.14-15)

On the frontier

Cole's Course of an Empire: Desolation

But let that man with better sence aduize,
   That of the world least part to vs is red:
   And dayly how through hardy enterprize,
   Many great Regions are discouered,
   Which to late age were neuer mentioned.
   Who euer heard of th'Indian Peru?
   Or who in venturous vessell measured
   The Amazon huge riuer now found trew?
Or fruitfullest Virginia who did euer vew?

Yet all these were, when no man did them know;
   Yet haue from wisest ages hidden beene:
   And later times things more vnknowne shall show.
   Why then should witlesse man so much misweene
   That nothing is, but that which he hath seene?
   What if within the Moones faire shining spheare?
   What if in euery other starre vnseene
   Of other worldes he happily should heare?
He wo[n]der would much more: yet such to some appeare.

(Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene, proem to Book 2)

Up until a few years ago, I never considered myself to be particularly interested in space movies. I think it had something to do with the geekiness associated with Trekkies and the cult surrounding Luke Skywalker. However, things changed when I was in college and went to see Interstellar in the theater (maybe I shouldn't be proud to admit this, but I think I saw it 3 or 4 times...I was obsessed). One of the reasons I enjoyed the film that much was because it shares several themes in common with Renaissance literature (one scene is extremely Dantean, when astronauts surmise that the universe is held together by a cosmic love; think the ending of Paradiso, when Dante discovers in God "the love that moves the sun and other stars").

The most significant shared motif between these two eras/genres is the sense of frontier. It's easy to look back at our ancestors in indulgent condescension, chuckling over their awe of the "New World." Those maps are cute. We today, though, with our satellites and vaccines and computers, have taken control over the earth; we've lost that sense of mystery. However, I don't think this is entirely the case, even in light of all the advances we've made. We've simply shifted our frontier to space; Mars and the Moon have become our New World.

The Utopian literature of the Renaissance often situates these made-up civilizations in the neighborhood of the Americas; modern science fiction loves to toy with the possibility of further-developed societies in different galaxies. The angst felt by the early explorers concerning all the unknowns surrounding the Atlantic Passage, "savage" indigenous peoples, and basic survival in an unknown land is echoed in films like The Martian (although isolation rather than hostile natives is the focus of the plot). The romance, fantasy, and adventure that gave rise to quests for the Fountain of Youth, traces of Atlantis, or the city of Cibola carry through into the sometimes-bizarre worlds featured in Star Wars.

Perhaps the most poignant parallel is the shared sense of loss and sacrifice. Leaving the East for the West, most early-modern migrants never hoped to see their homes and families again. Interstellar, with all the relativity and quantum theory that went completely over my head, brought this home to me. The closest thing to it is death (insert all the cliches about it being the last taboo/frontier/etc here). There is a familiarity with loss and mortality in Renaissance literature that I think can be a little off-putting to modern-day readers, coming across as morbid. I don't mind it, though. Perhaps we need our illusion of invincibility shattered, and the Universe around us is more than able to do the job. It's a reminder of our limits, of our humanity, of our dependence on a higher power than ourselves.

Amoretti LXVIII

Reading Spenser's Faerie Queene this semester, and wanted to branch out a bit on the side. His sonnet cycle, Amoretti, is not considered one of the masterpieces of English love poetry, but I've enjoyed what I've come across thus far. This one especially. I love that he bases their love in the Resurrection of Christ. Reminds me of Dante and Donne.

Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day, 

Didst make thy triumph over death and sin: 

And having harrow'd hell, didst bring away 

Captivity thence captive, us to win: 

This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin, 

And grant that we for whom thou diddest die, 

Being with thy dear blood clean wash'd from sin, 

May live for ever in felicity. 

And that thy love we weighing worthily, 

May likewise love thee for the same again: 

And for thy sake, that all like dear didst buy, 

With love may one another entertain. 

So let us love, dear love, like as we ought, 

Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

The lovely thing about Spenser's cycle is that, unlike Dante in particular, his love becomes attainable. It's a unique choice in the context of courtly love & Petrarch, in which the object of love was always something that remained at a distance, ending in sadness. But Spenser is writing about his wife. I like to think we have Protestantism to thank for this - the relationship between mankind and God became much more personal in the wake of Lutheran and Reformed theology.

I have no other evidence to back this up

Never occurred to me that Paul might have gotten his inspiration from the Psalms.

Psalm 18.30-36:
As for God, His way is blameless;
The word of the Lord is tried;
He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him.
For who is God, but the Lord?
And who is a rock, except our God,
The God who girds me with strength
And makes my way blameless?
He makes my feet like hinds’ feet,
And sets me upon my high places.
He trains my hands for battle,
So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.
You have also given me the shield of Your salvation,
And Your right hand upholds me;
And Your gentleness makes me great.
You enlarge my steps under me,
And my feet have not slipped.

Ephesians 6.10-17:
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

On the promises

"By faith Abraham, when he was tested, offered up Isaac, and he who had received the promises was offering up his only begotten son; it was he to whom it was said, “In Isaac your descendants shall be called.” He considered that God is able to raise people even from the dead, from which he also received him back as a type." Hebrews 11.17-19

This passage really stood out to me today. In the past week, several circumstances have led me to think about the nature of faith and how God sometimes asks us to trust Him in ways that seem impossible, or even counter to what He has previously done in our lives. Abraham spent his whole life waiting for a son, nearly giving up on the likelihood that this would ever happen. And then, as we all know, God eventually gave him Isaac, going so far as to guarantee to him that, this is it! Here is your long-awaited heir! This is the point of the story where all of the kumbaya cotton candy Christian books leave off; it's the chicken soup for the immature soul, feel-good message of inspiration and positivity. Because this is what the Christian life is all about: if we just have enough faith in God, He will eventually give us what we ask of Him.

But here's the thing. Right after God promises Abraham that Isaac is the answer to his prayers, what happens next? He asks him to sacrifice him. There have been times in my life, both recent and also in the past, where it seemed like God was doing the opposite of the will He had appeared to providentially reveal to me. Take senior year of college, for example. Everything was pointing to grad school. Relationships were a consistent no-go but my academic situation was pretty stellar; it seemed to be a clear indication that all thoughts of domesticity must be put on hold for a career. It was like you could actually see the doors opening and closing. But then, all the sudden, I got waitlisted. It was a complete shock. Why would God push me in this direction only to pull the rug out from me? It made no sense. Among the (many) lessons God taught me during that bizarre month, I had to learn that I will never fully comprehend His plan, but that it is always wiser than my own. And sometimes it will seem to make absolutely no sense. Those are the moments, though, that define what faith really is; it would be kind of meaningless if it were easy.

Abraham's confidence in God is incredible. The whole idea of being willing to lose what you thought you had miraculously won, of undergoing a double trial of faith, is such a deeper exploration of what it means to trust God. The Christian life is not a Hallmark movie. I want this kind of faith - to be fully confident in God's ability to work out the seemingly impossible; to be willing to sacrifice those things that I hold most closely to my heart; to be certain that God is good and faithful no matter what happens in this life.

Those two kingdoms

Came across this passage that I saved a few months ago. Couldn't think of a better way to express the responsibility we Christians have in the midst of a very troubled/uncertain time in our culture.

"Christians should pursue cultural activities not with a spirit of triumph and conquest over their neighbors but with a spirit of love and service toward them. Far too often Christian writers and leaders imbue their audience with a drive to take over - to take over politics, education, the courts, and whatever else (or maybe it is put in more palatable terms, such as taking back instead of taking over, as if Christians are the rightful owners of everything and are simply reclaiming what is already theirs). The New Testament does call us 'more than conquerors through him who loved us' (Rom. 8:37), and on the day of Christ's return we will share in his visible triumph over his enemies (e.g., 2 Thess. 1:5-10). But until then God calls us to be involved in activities such as education and politics not in order to trounce opponents but to serve neighbors, 'You have heard that it was said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy." But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you' (Matt. 5:43-44). The apparent enemy is our neighbor (Luke 10:25-37). It is all too easy to demonize those with whom we disagree and seek to vilify them for their sins in order to gain tactical advantage - even though their conduct often outshines our own in many areas of life, and though, if we do avoid their sins, we do so only by the unmerited grace of God. We have been justified in Christ precisely so that we may love and serve our neighbor, for this is the fulfillment of the law (Rom. 13:8-10; Gal. 5:13-14). The New Testament constantly calls us to gentleness, meekness, patience, and humility (e.g., Matt. 5:5; Gal. 5:22-23; Eph. 4:2). If only we were as eager to deal with our own many sins as we are to expose the sins of others whom we regard as our cultural opponents - if only we would learn to take the log out of our own eyes before seeing the speck in another's eye (Matt. 7:1-5). The way of love and service in all areas of culture, not the way of vilification and conquest, is the proper Christian attitude."

(David VanDrunen, Living in God's Two Kingdoms, 124-125)

Love (III)

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lack’d any thing. 

A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkinde, ungratefull? Ah my deare,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I? 

Truth Lord, but I have marr’d them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.

George Herbert

Eight years

I think I will always be entertained by each passing year that this blog still exists. Here's to eight more.

2016 was rough. It was manageable on a personal level (college grad, whadup!!), but absolutely agonizing as a friend, as I watched many people I deeply care for go through some pretty intense trials. And on a societal level, it was just bizarre. I have a hard time believing anything is impossible anymore. What a time to be alive.

There's a lot of uncertainty in the upcoming year, including several major life decisions I'll have to make. During my college years, which held their own kind of tests and trials, one of the hymns we sang in church took on a lot of meaning for me. It captures the sense of helplessness mixed with faith in the promises of God that seems to become more and more a part of the Christian life. It's become one of my favorites, and something I hope to keep close by as the year unfolds.

Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy pow'rful hand;
Bread of heaven, Bread of heaven,
Feed me till I want no more.

Open now the crystal fountain,
Whence the healing stream doth flow;
Let the fire and cloudy pillar
Lead me all my journey through;
Strong Deliverer, strong Deliverer,
Be thou still my Strength and Shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of death, and hell's Destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan's side;
Songs of praises, songs of praises
I will ever give to thee.

Femina contra mundum

So I indulged in a bit of narcissism and was reading through my posts, and I realized that I've kind of become that person I said I hated back in July. All I talk about is school. Granted, it takes up the majority of my time and almost all of my mental capacities at the moment, but it's still not the only relevant thing going on in my life.

For what will probably be the only time I will ever do this, on my blog, in public, and which I might delete at any given post-publication moment, I think I'm going to talk about one of my most hated subjects: my relationship status. It's only come up twice in the nearly-eight years I've been writing here, and I've worked hard to keep it that way. This blog is not a kumbaya care-and-share extravaganza. In nicer words, it just feels unprofessional and unproductive. Yeah, I already hate myself for posting this.

I'm making this exception, though, because of a sobering conversation I had with one of my most trusted friends. We were talking about our generation of Reformed Baptists, and how we've both encountered a disturbing amount of peers who say they are committed to our confession, but don't really live it out. My friend remarked that if you're a genuinely confessional female, and you're interested in marriage, the chances are you will end up being the spiritual leader in the relationship. That really bothers me.

I guess I'm writing this post as a kind of defiance. For several years, I struggled with contentment and finding my place in the sociology of the church. I learned that in most of the times I dealt with anxiety, the root of my unhappiness didn't lie in the circumstances of my life at the moment, but in the fear of losing the happiness I currently enjoyed. The Bible talks about how singles have it really good. I can finally attest to this in my own life: I'm in grad school with promising research opportunities, I'm surrounded by a close circle of family and friends, I'm involved in a solid church, and I have the ability to do reckless stuff like last minute trips or impromptu social events during the week. Why on earth would I give up this freedom for a relationship in which I'd never be able to shake the feeling that I've betrayed the essence of who I am? If that is the reality of marriage for a Reformed Baptist young woman, it is not worth it to me. I could never truly love someone I don't respect; it doesn't work.

I know the readership of this blog is minuscule, to say the least. But if for some reason, some young girl is out there and finds this: Please, don't throw away your spiritual and intellectual integrity for love. It sounds lovely and romantic and fearless, but it's only capitulation. Hold out for someone you love and respect.

The Reformed Baptist movement is still fragile in many ways. On a human level, our future depends upon the faithfulness of the young men and women emerging in its churches today. We rightly pray for future pastors, but we need to pray for committed laity as well. We need boys who man up and live disciplined lives, and girls who recognize the vital role women play in the church. To my fellow young adults: The Christian life is about glorifying God and serving his kingdom. Some of you will be fortunate enough to find spouses who share your commitment. But, for others, this is going to mean choosing between marriage and our beliefs. Are we willing to make that decision?

Further thoughts on feminism

Teenage Jane Grey reading Plato...in the original Greek

"'...as I was saying we shall never agree, I suppose, upon this point. No man and woman, would, probably. But let me observe that all histories are against you--all stories, prose and verse. If I had such a memory as Benwick, I could bring you fifty quotations in a moment on my side the argument, and I do not think I ever opened a book in my life which had not something to say upon woman's inconstancy. Songs and proverbs, all talk of woman's fickleness. But perhaps you will say, these were all written by men.'

'Perhaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything.'" 

(Persuasion, ch. 23)

A while ago, reeling from my first exposure to literary theory, I wrote this post.

For the most part, I stand by the spirit of my arguments. Without rejecting the merit of diversity itself, it does have a potential dark side: division. I believe my fears of toxic disunity have been justified in the elections that recently took place both in the U.S. and the U.K.; they reveal that none of the special interest groups (and I do include the white establishment) have done a particularly admirable job of working together, listening to one another, or finding common ground. This is what happens to society when everyone fixates on his or her own personal interests, with little plan for how to implement proposed changes in a sustainable way.

At the same time, I was recently reminded of a conversation I had with a friend I met in Cambridge. He was a fellow international Reformed Baptist, but unlike me, he hailed from the Czech Republic. We were discussing the current landscape of Christian publishing, and he made an observation that struck me: Much of what gets published is written by Americans and is directed toward an American audience. It's as if the U.S. is the "center" of the Christian world. However, the cultural climate in places like Eastern Europe is a lot different than that of the U.S., and so for someone in my friend's position, there's a good portion of these books that simply is irrelevant, while key issues facing non-Western society are left untouched; it leaves these individuals on the outer circles. This doesn't mean the books being published are useless to non-Americans, because there's a lot of insight that can be relevant to anyone; this insight is simply lacking the potential to be enriched by other perspectives than that of America.

I realized that this easily translates into the world of literary theory, and as a result, I believe my views have become more nuanced. Yes, the goal is harmony. But it's also true that there historically has been a "center" (male-dominated publishing) that often did leave women feeling disenfranchised. There's nothing wrong about having books written with men or Americans in mind, per se. What becomes problematic is when passages that contain male/American-specifc perspectives are assumed to be the default or universal experience; when outside voices are actively excluded (take the Jane Austen quote above).

I still wouldn't consider myself a radical feminist or anything approaching that. I continue reading and loving books written by men, sometimes containing male bias, because I believe they do have important things to say, regardless of gender or passages that are askew. Oftentimes, male authors are able to quite successfully portray experiences I have gone through as a woman. I would consider myself more pragmatic than those who argue that the only person allowed to write on an issue is one who has experienced it firsthand. However, I have a deeper appreciation now for the limits of literature. Authors are not divinely inspired, and our attempts at describing universal human experiences are inevitably flawed. For those who are driven to add more female voices to the literary canon, or even to point out where male authors could do better, I say bravo. But I ask that such work be done graciously. I'm learning that accepting that these literary efforts will be imperfect is a kind of humility, one that frees us from unrealistic expectations of human ability.