3.30.14

So it's a feast day again, and I may surprise you by saying that I don't particularly like the fact that there are feast days.

Why, you ask? It took me a while to come around to the answer, because at face value it makes sense that when you choose to deprive yourself of something and you find out that on every seventh day you get a break from the deprivation, you would thoroughly enjoy the seventh day. And, well, that's the point of the Sabbath anyway - like I wrote a few years ago, every Sunday is a day of remembrance of that day on which the sinless man who had been beaten, humiliated, and murdered was raised from the dead. It's kind of a big deal, and definitely a reason for celebration and feasting.

I must conclude that the problem isn't with the the principle of feasting, it's in my approach to fasting.

I have a fascination with doing difficult things - a complicated word problem, dragging myself out of bed at dawn for a day of hard labor, stress hikes, the all-night study session - because of the personal satisfaction I feel at the end of it. Additionally, I have a strange enjoyment of the deprivation itself, the experience of "mind over matter" as I flex my muscles of self-denial. Put those things together and you have a temperament always up for a challenge and willing to make sacrifices to accomplish something. Put that way, I sound like a pretty great person, don't I? So what's wrong with the picture?

I find that I resent the upcoming weekly breaks in the fast because they remind me that fast isn't about me at all, nor about how much I can handle or how good a person I'll be when I have "gone without" for a few weeks. In fact, I anticipate that each Sunday will feel like resetting of all of the endurance I have built up over the previous six days and Monday begins just a little more miserable than Saturday. Ultimately the posture of fasting shouldn't be about facing down a challenge or proving one's will-power, it should be a posture of mourning over one's weakness, submission to God, and soberly rejoicing in his grace.

I can say that, but I don't completely understand it. Mourning, submission, and sobriety are not popular postures and they appear rarely in my life. I can only hope that the contrast of fasting with feasting will teach me to comprehend them better.

3.9.14

I knew that Lent was "forty days not including Sundays," but I never stopped to consider what that meant. You won't be surprised at my joy when I learned, from a RA who ought to know, that in Catholic practice the fast does not include the Lord's Day. So on Sunday I can do (or rather, eat) what I want*. So this is my first feast day and it couldn't come at a better time - it's Spring Break here at USF, and my sister is here to visit for the week. It's providential that we are both participating in this fast, because otherwise it would be a miserable week for one of us.

This first feast day has been full of small blessings, some of which were in disguise. I got up at an obscene hour this morning to drive to Waterloo only to discover that my sister's train was delayed by an hour... but as I sat there for an hour and a half waiting for her to arrive, I got to watch a beautiful sunrise. We got breakfast at a cute little diner, and let me tell you pancakes and bacon have never tasted so good. I went to church alone while my sister napped to make up for the sleep lost on the train, and then we went out to dinner and found the best pizza ever at Toscani Pizzeria. Again, pizza and Sam Adam's have never tasted so good. There was ice cream, later, and a movie, and general happiness. It was a good Sabbath.

It kind of sounds like my day was driven by food, doesn't it? And perhaps it was, and perhaps that's okay. Instead of paying attention to a list of rules, I was able to experience the God's lavish generosity of flavor and human creativity. That's kind of a big deal.

But the blessing I was most grateful for on this feast day was being able to eat with someone I care about.

*Incidentally, this is probably why it's best not to use Lent to overcome a bad habit or vice; 28 days may break a habit, but taking every seventh day off probably won't help much. :)

Church: Found

In the past when I lived in a place other than 'home' people always told me that it was important to find a church community of which to be a part, but I don't think I really believed them. Not that I didn't go to church. I went to some pretty spectacular churches, actually...

• Exhibit A: Spring Creek Community Church
  When I was an apprentice at Miracle Mountain Ranch I attended the community church at the bottom of the mountain not because I had tried other churches and really liked this one (in fact, I don't think I visited any other churches), but because I felt least awkward about riding to church with the people who went to Spring Creek. What can I say? I was 17 and self-conscious. Spring Creek was a great place for me, though - very small, so everyone knew - and cared about - everyone else, their prayer time didn't come from a typed list but from concerns everyone shared right there in church, and I was able to use my musical talent in worship for the first time.
  
• Exhibit B: Ecclesia Hollywood
  Again, I didn't really look for a church in LA. A few of my instructors went to Ecclesia and so my roommates and I tried it out, and where my roommates went, I followed. Still insecure, you know. What I love(d) about Ecclesia is that 1) they rented space that would otherwise be empty, because being in a particular community was more important than having a certain style of building, 2) the congregation had a particular vision for creativity and creative people and focused its efforts on them, and 3) the preaching was candid and spoke to the church specifically, rather than Christians generally. I still listen to the Ecclesia podcast and will do my darnedest to visit them every time I'm in the LA area.
  
• Exhibit C: The SOMA Gathering
  I moved to Beaver Falls as a grad student and wanted to assert my independence (particularly necessary, in my mind, because I still saw my parents very frequently). SOMA was initially appealing because people I knew went there and it was close enough to walk. Furthermore, I had started to care about the community - about belonging somewhere and sharing the burdens (and joys) of the people who lived near me. For the first time I didn't go to church with someone (although I knew people who also attended there) and I was constantly encouraged to do something with the message. 

There are two common themes in my 'independent' church experiences: 1) they were all really great churches, and 2) I 'found' them because 'people I knew went there,' aka they were convenient. What I learned through those experiences was that having a church community is REALLY important, but also that if I was going to commit myself to a church, this time I didn't want it to be accidental; I wanted to find a place with a community and ministries in which I, personally, could invest.

Church 'shopping' was an ironically profitable experience. I visited Life Bridge on their 'free donuts' day, I was given a John Piper book along with my free coffee drink and pastry at Broadway Christian Church, and was invited to Thanksgiving dinner at Wallen Baptist (along with the rest of the congregation). They were all great places, and I appreciated the music and the preaching, but none of them felt quite right. So I did a Google map search to find something really close to campus and found "Anchor Community Church." I visited once, then forced myself to try a few other places, but at Christmas I found myself wondering how soon I could go back.

I've been going to Anchor for almost three months now and I like it a lot. It's not what I envisioned, exactly, because the congregation is generally older and younger than me, but it feels right. The people I meet are friendly, there are opportunities for ministry and growth (not get-involved-as-an-underling opportunities, but we-need-more-people-for-this-to-work opportunities), and every sermon gives me something to think and pray and journal about; every sermon challenges me personally, but also reminds me that I am part of both the local community and Church universal.

There you are. I'm glad that I took my time that I didn't stick with my modus operandi and just tag along with the first person who invited me to their church (especially for Amy's sake!). At Anchor I have the opportunity to work with youth group, I can get involved in the local community, and I find encouragement and comfort each week.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek. - Hebrews 6:19 - 

Firstfruit

I've said before that my family has few traditions. Ice cream for dessert, pizza&movie nights once or twice a week, watching the Steelers, and making semi-annual trips to Ohio (now more frequent) are about the sum of the list. Some that might be on there have been lost in recent years, including one of my least favorites: shopping for Easter dresses.

To be honest, I suspect that it was Grandma's idea - my most vivid memories of said shopping are of the same shoe store year after year. I never had a talent for choosing shoes - still don't - so I wasted time picking out the highest heels and most outrageous colors for her consideration. Her gasp of horror was gratifying, as was Grandpa's quiet smile when I put on a chastised face and went to find more reasonable pumps. Some years Mommy made the dress, but as we grew up we spent more time in real stores; some years were real winners, and some make me just a bit queasy to remember. Bright and early and almost late to church every Easter Sunday the three of us would stand out on the driveway and have our pictures taken.

cheese?

As a child, somehow these early spring events were soundtracked with the voice of Judy Garland, singing about the Easter Parade, which was romantic but always seemed a bit outdated. For a few years between childhood and whatever you call my present stage of life, I questioned the legitimacy of the whole thing - why do we have to dress up to go to church? Doesn't God say that he takes us as we are, that there is nothing we can do to earn his love and forgiveness? If so, why put on the frills, gloves and make-up? (yes, there were sometimes gloves involved) If I had been thinking more exegetically, I might have asked whether we thought that the Marys were dressed in their Sabbath best to approach the tomb - wouldn't they have been in mourning, distraught, and Jesus appeared to them anyway?

It boils down to the fact that I like jeans better than a skirt, and I'd rather not bother with my hair. However, clothes aren't the point. Confusion is the point. Isn't it amazing how easily we get stuck on a detour thinking, like a child, that this thing or that thing is the real thing? When I write I tend to imagine that my audience is a lot like me, so I apologize if you've never gotten caught up in the clothes and expectations and forgotten the simple truth... that we dress up because this is a day of celebration! The other 51 Sundays in the year are days of remembrance of this day, which is a day of remembrance of that day - that day when a man who had been beaten, humiliated and murdered was raised from the dead.

Did you catch that? Raised from the dead.

Resurrected.

Brought back to life.

(BTW, Pastor Eric was great this morning. Objection: "Science says that resurrection is impossible." Answer: "Uh... that's the point!")

In church this morning I considered finding the perfect Old Testament passage to talk about the promises that were fulfilled on the first Easter Sunday; you know, the one that was specifically looking forward to this morning. Silly rabbit, they all do! Jesus' life, death and resurrection were the fulfillment of the Old Testament, the realization of the hope of nations, and the embodiment of the hope that we have.

Last night I talked about the pain that Jesus endured and how he graciously made it possible for men to justify the execution that was necessary for their redemption. Today, I am celebrating what he saved mankind for (and I hope that you are too!). Jesus' crucifixion was the judicial payment for sin; his resurrection was victory over death, but not only over spiritual death. In I Corinthians 15, Paul says

If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in his own turn: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when he comes, those who belong to him. (v. 19-23, NIV)

Firstfruits. Jesus came back in the flesh. Jesus ate with his disciples. Thomas touched his hands and his side. And Paul tells us that Jesus' resurrection is the promise of what we will also receive at the "last trumpet" (v.52).

Jesus' resurrection was the end of waiting for the Jews and God-fearers, the revelation of things obscured by years and prophecy. And, even better, his resurrection is the beginning of true hope. Not an indistinct, weak longing that someday things will be better, like Mr. Micawber's "something shall turn up!" No, our hope is substantiated, sealed with the demonstration of God's power to reverse the greatest human experience of brokenness - death.

Someday death will be gone. The redeemed will live eternally in a renewed heavens and earth, enjoying real life in resurrected bodies, doing real things: running, cooking and eating, playing softball, building, carving, reading and writing, singing and being silent. Those of us who have people to miss - that is, everyone who has ever lived - will have the joy of seeing our loved ones again. This is the day that we remember God's promise...

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life. (Revelation 21:1-4, 22-27, NIV)

Something old, something new, something borrowed and something... to complain about.

Old news: Spring Break has arrived at Geneva College. It's been a few days, actually, and in a mere four weekdays we will be back to the daily grind. I find it amusing that so many people say "Spring break, already?" Me, I was the exact opposite. Seven consecutive weeks of full-time school and three-quarter-time work wear me pretty thin. I'm all for break in the middle of March.

New news: I went for a run last weekend. Oh, wait, that's not new... the new news is that I sprained my ankle on that run and today I finally made it to the doctor. I have a bright, shiny (well, textured black, so not shiny at all) boot to wear for the next two weeks, and a brace after that. So many things I could say on the topic, but I'll keep it light-hearted: I've learned my lesson about running on the Sabbath.

Borrowed news: So many things to choose from! I suppose I'll go with what I consider to be the most important (and what you will think the most nerdy) - I love Doctor Who. Not because he's British (rather, it's British and he's a TimeLord), and not because it's science fiction (although that definitely helps); because it is so rare to watch a show that is honest about the failures of mankind, our cruelty, thoughtlessness and ignorance, and also takes the time to reaffirm the inherent value and potential of mankind, unique amid the splendors of the universe.

Complaints: If you're going to write that you have particular skills in either communication or English (or both), please proofread your Bible 300 paper before you turn it in. Just sayin'.

Sabbath Reflections

Sabbath has never been a huge deal at our house, although church has always been. We have few traditions, but going to church as a family, sitting together (usually in the same pew) and coming home to have pancakes for lunch is one of them. After the pancakes, however, we go our separate ways, doing our best to prepare for life on the other side of the weekend. Sometimes that means a nap, or a movie, but most of the time it's house projects that need to be continued or completed, or books that need to be read or papers written. I never thought twice about it until I arrived at college as a freshman and found a campus that cares about such things, and as the semesters went by I became more attracted to the idea of "working from my rest" instead of resting from work. The work will always be there but so will God - and I'm thinking he should take priority.

But even if this is a day of rest, there are things that must be done - like eating, for example. So how do I reconcile this work with a day devoted to God and the enjoyment of his creation? I'm not sure yet, but this week it's about reflection on the fact that this is the sabbath. It's also about cooking... not the same old pancakes, something "new and exciting" - something to enjoy.

*****

I never claimed to be a great cook. I've been making dinner for the family since middle school, but I never had the time, ingredients, or desire to actually consider myself a "cook." For the first time, though, I understand the joy so many people find in it. I won't pretend that the recipe I'm using today is at all original; in fact, I'll give you the link: Quiche Supreme Recipe.

If you followed the link, you saw the regular ingredients - eggs, cream, veggies, cheese, meat, crust. Some seasonings. A stove top and oven. Setting it all out on the counter (with the exception of the stove, which is heavy even for me), I realize how blessed I am already to live in this country with so many good foods available to me. The eggs are farm fresh, from the Lutz family at Seven Springs Dairy Farm. I didn't have to do all the work of making the cheese or separating the cream. Finally, it's the middle of January and I have fresh peppers and onions and mushrooms. I also have a father willing to run to the store for the ingredients I missed.

The second layer of this experience is actually preparing all the ingredients. Since I have no schedule (and my father isn't to his "grumpy-hungry" stage yet), I love this part - chopping the vegetables and seeing the colors and textures blend on the cutting board before they go into a frying pan, grating the cheese by hand (it's surprisingly soothing to shred things), beating eggs and cream. Tossing in spices by the "pinch" or "too taste" makes me think of my grandmothers and the way they would pull out a bowl and start throwing ingredients in... and you'd ask, and they'd say they didn't know what it was going to be, but you'd better like it.

See? My amateur attempts at cooking remind me of the love of my family and precious days spent with them. My heritage affects the ingredients I use, too - polish influence demands extra garlic, and who needs ham? We have extra kielbasa from the New Year's celebrations, and it tastes better anyway. I'm wary of the nutmeg, and the vinegar is the only ingredient I measured today (why? because if my dad knows it's in there, he'll be wary of the whole meal).

Alright, enough story; more reflecting. It's all in the oven and the mess I made of our kitchen has been cleaned, so here's what I'm thinking. This morning my pastor preached on Psalm 122, a Song of Ascent, and on the value and necessity of corporate worship. Bad things can happen when a person says, "I'll worship by myself at home" (for further study look up "Joseph Smith) and completely gives up on the Church - you'll notice that despite the many problems of the 1st Century churches, none of Paul's letters includes the suggestion that they should just give up and try another way.

Churches should be like quiche, with different colors, textures and flavors, being honest about their history and cultural influences, and helping others to enjoy the good things God provides. Unfortunately, a lot of them are like my quiche, which will probably be a bit strong on the garlic, light on pepper, and lord-help-us if Daddy finds out about the vinegar. But I'm not going to stop trying because my double "pinch" was too much, I'm going to do it different next time. I hope that we see the church community where we can "do it different next time" and grow closer to each other, because worship is partly about being forgiven and being conformed despite the excess of garlic in our lives.

I will admit, this is probably only the beginning of my day's reflection, but if you've noticed the clock it's about time for me to make sure that the rest of dinner is ready to go with this quiche. Later I'll be making cookies but I won't force you to join me for that. I'll give you the recipe and be out of your hair, but I hope you have a chance to reflect on God's love while you make these awesome Caramel Blossom Cookies :)