Fear

Is it irony or grief that makes me grimace? I am reading a book whose stated intent is to help me "live life nearly free of fear". The author says we know violent acts by the subtle signals preceding, and we know the subtle signals because we, too, are human. In other words, we understand violence because, deep down, we are capable of it. I am not saying that the knowledge to be gained from observing human behavior will not have practical implications for daily living. But will I really live a life nearly free of fear simply because I know a little more of the depths of human depravity?

-- --

A man sat in the chair across from me,
speaking of a pain that leaves you
on your knees,
on the ground in public places, even.
It leaves your chest constricted, and you
no longer wonder if you'll make it.

This man, older than my grandfather,
looked at me.
This man with three times my life's years looked and said,
you have to help me.

I look him in the eye and wonder at my own mortality.
I am not free of fear, but I know whom I have believed,
and am persuaded that as deep as darkness goes, grace is there to meet it.

Maybe tomorrow, I can meet the next person's plea with a bit more courage.
And the day after that.  

Father

That boy, “Abraham’s son,”

I don’t think was ever rightly called.

                  There is that flame,

that kindling, in the story of

the son-that-should-have-died.

Fate played no part. God himself

came down. There is no surer word.

The covenant could stand

and Isaac die and Abraham knew it.

He spent three days knowing it,

each step a mustard seed

to fell the mountain in his heart.

The knife. Did he shudder as he lifted it,

                  the sinews, muscles tense

Did he calm himself with words as shallow as his breath

                  I’ve done this before

                  a goat, a dove, an ox,

                  my

                  son.

An old sinner,

longing to obey.

And Isaac died to Abraham. In between the knife’s up and stop,

Isaac became a son of God. 

As this past semester is shaken and pressed, this is what runs over

"Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring, but intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." (C.S. Lewis, Screwtape Letters, ch. 8)

Many know this has long been my favorite quote by Lewis. I have carried this quote in my head and shared it quickly at the slightest opportunity. It was a romantic quote, romantic in the sense of being nice, neat, and pretty--and small enough to fit just a bite-sized piece of theology in it, enough to chew on for an afternoon.

It is highly unlikely that I will ever again be able to see in this quote its once-thought romantic qualities. I will see in this quote a brokenness that causes nausea. I will see a weariness that clenches the chest and makes it difficult to breathe. I will see a confusion that causes once dry eyes to weep.

I will see a God who is faithful no matter how faithless we are or become. I will see the ability to obey when blind as an ability dictated by need--desperation for life itself. (as the deer pants, so my soul longs for the God of my salvation)

Obedience when God seems not present has seemed the over-arching lesson of this past semester. And that sometimes, I think I am obeying, when what I am doing is trying to carry my own sin until it breaks me. I think I am obeying, but instead, I am trying to give people myself instead of Christ. I say I do not have time for more than short prayers throughout the day and a token verse...and then I expect joyful obedience. Praise God that neither my salvation nor ultimately, my sanctification is on my shoulders.
And praise God for community that is willing to show us that we need to fellowship with God through Scripture, prayer, and meeting together with one another. Praise be to the God who uses others to convict us when we are not searching for God, and then throwing up our hands and bemoaning our befuddled minds and hearts, and His seeming distance!


To be commanded to love God at all, let alone in the wilderness, is like being commanded to be well when we are sick, to sing for joy when we are dying of thirst, to run when our legs are broken. Even in the wilderness- especially in the wilderness- you shall love him. ~Frederick Buechner

My life is like a liberal arts university. It is like taking a history class that matches up with a Spanish class, that is reminiscent of a social work class. It is learning the date 1492 and later finding out that not only did Cristobal Colón land in America that year, but that the first official Spanish grammar was printed that year.

I wandered the library at school, for I had two nights in which I could read a book. I found a collection of short sermons by Frederick Buechner. The title appealed to me. The Hungering Dark. Yet I read the one titled The Magnificent Defeat. (Jacob wrestles with God and is magnificently defeated...utterly defeated, for the Angel of the Lord did not cause the struggle to end until Jacob had nothing left. There was to be no doubt in Jacob's mind but that he was not a match for his opponent)

I did not know that a quote I had long pondered originated by this man, Frederick Buechner. And now, it makes more sense.

As this past semester is shaken and pressed, this is what runs over.
Only the grace of God.
I have nothing of my own to offer.

What to do when life is painful

Is this what answered prayers are? is this how God talks to me? Am I so blind as to not catch on for several hours that this was an answer to the prayer "show me what love means"?

Back in Little Rock, a slight rain was falling. I walked downstairs and, with things on my mind like going to the store for my mom and heading to Louisville, I was hit with a little bit of a lot of terror. As long as any piece of me is holding back in hopes of fulfilling my own desires, I am not loving. Why am I home for these few days but to serve? Why hesitate when asked to go to the store, take my sister to school...? How can we who died to sin still live in it? (Rom. 6:2) What agony!

I then read this quote on one of my team member's pages:
"Give until it hurts, because real love hurts"- Mother Teresa

I thought it was false by a long shot. Why would real love hurt?

I think it hurts because we still sin. We still struggle. I think it hurts because each day, though the Lord's mercies are new (Praise be to Him!), so are the temptations to live self-absorbed lives. And not necessarily overtly self-absorbed lives, but rather, the reserved love kind of life. The "here are three things I want to do this week and now lets see if I have time to go to the store for my mom, my neighbor..."
I kind of think it should be the other way around.

"Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days" (Psalm 90:14)

"I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth" (Psalm 34:1)

Real love hurts because it is a sacrifice. The sad thing is, the quote does not catch the full picture. Because real love's hurting and sacrifice is in some, inexplicable way linked to joy.

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this
That caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul!

When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down
Beneath God’s righteous frown,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul for my soul,
...
To God and to the Lamb I will sing;
To God and to the Lamb,
Who is the great I AM,
While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing,
...
And when from death I’m free
I’ll sing His love for me,
And through eternity I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on,
And through eternity I’ll sing on.