Who are you voting for?

Election Season is coming down to the wire, and I hear that tensions over it are running high. On the small college campus of a Christian school, however, it is easy to be insulated from the outside world and the concerns of the nation. For some students, this begins (or perpetuates) a spirit of apathy; between school, clubs, sports and complaining about the food, there is plenty here to occupy young minds. When someone asks our generation to care, don't we normally ask, what difference does our caring make anyway? "It feels like a lesser-of-two-evils decision," and "voting third party is voting for [insert candidate] anyway" are more thoughtful, but express the same sentiment.

A smaller group of students choose to care - intensely. Much like their parents before them, these students know where they stand, who they should vote for, and often what the Bible says about it. The Geneva College Republicans have meetings and t-shirts and an informational table once in a while. There is a quieter, but no less dedicated, group of Democrats furthering their cause on campus. It would be unfair to say that their devotion does no good, but the polarization of their views often lends itself to intimidation rather than honest conversation.

Honest conversation is something that our campus desperately needs, but sometimes the election conversation is ended before it begins because of our fatalistic - or pugilistic - attitudes. This election season, however, I have a new perspective to offer you; new to me, although I can hope that it is not new to you.

Although it sometimes seems that Christians have more to learn about suspending judgment than the rest of the world, there IS something unique about having these conversations at a Christian school, or even more specifically, at Geneva. To summarize the Reformed perspective, we understand the Bible to be God's story which tells us of the good creation of all things, the brokenness of all things, the redemption of all things, and the hope (promise!) of restoration for all things. We, as Christians, are part of the redemption: who we are and what we do, after we have encountered Christ, is inexorably linked to God's love for his creation. It is our duty to represent God well and work toward that final restoration (Romans 8:18-30).

Thinking of the world in this way, therefore, leads me to believe that the real question in our conversations is not, "what do you think about [insert party or candidate]?" It is, "Who and what do you care about?" It is, "How does the current political climate, or a particular election or candidate, impact that thing or those people that you care about?" In the student ministry office we have been drawing attention to the election as often as we can. We frequently disagree - and we know when the conversation starts that we will disagree - but that doesn't stop us from talking about it. None of us questions the others' salvation when we discover that they are registered Democrat, or that they might support a pro-choice candidate, or that they are okay with rich people remaining rich. The discussion is about more than a "position" that can be summarized in one sentence on a political poll. I find it impossible to dismiss the input of a friend when I know that their position, like mine, is driven by a deep love for the poor and the oppressed; our political disagreement grows out of that love, but does not change it.

I find hope in having conversations about politics that end with hope rather than anger, and in having conversations that recognize that one election - or even all elections of all time - will neither fix nor damn the world. Life is bigger than that, and God is certainly bigger than that. In the end, whether there is a Republican, Democrat, or cartoon character in the White House, the things we care about will not change, the people we love will have no less need. Political discussions are important, laws are important, deciding how to vote and discovering the issues is important... but never forget that they are not the most important things.

The conversations that start because of politics cannot end with an election. If we really care about these things, there is no "win" or "lose" for us, only more or less difficult work for us to do as we move forward, with hope, to the work that God has given us:

He has told you, O man, what is good,
     and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
     and to walk humbly with your God? 

                     Micah 6:8 

Teaching and Shalom

As a student of Higher Education, I spend a portion of every day (including Sundays) immersed in literature, in new and old perspectives of what education could be, should be, how it is and might be done, and every now and again I get to meet some of the people who make these things happen. I am always daunted at the prospect of blogging any of my thoughts; first, because I cannot be sure that my audience is familiar with the material, and second, because I might be wrong. (I know, it would be absolutely tragic to put a potentially incorrect statement on the internet - who does that?)

In our most recent class, however, we have been reading from Nicholas Wolterstorff's book Educating for Shalom. I am almost certain, based on the title and a certain repetitive refrain within the collection of essays, that Wolterstorff is arguing that the end goal of Christian Higher Education is "shalom" - that is, the biblical vision for justice that goes beyond our usual definition: "Shalom incorporates right relationships in general, whether or not those are required by justice; right relationships to God, to one's fellow human beings, to nature, and to oneself. The shalom community is not merely the just community but is the responsible community, in which God's laws for our multifaceted existence are obeyed" (23). The byline of the book - Essays on Christian Higher Education - makes it clear that Wolterstorff is writing to a very particular audience; in fact, he writes to an audience that should be easily convinced by his pedagogy.

I have not found a way to deny his premise. To be entirely honest, it may be too broad for anyone to deny: who in their right mind rejects world peace as a worthy goal for any societal institution, let alone higher education? However, since there will always be people who, from choice or disposition, require that all questions be answered, I had to ask the following question of this premise: if this is true, can you - should you - really do it? Again, it would be odd to reject the idea that shalom is the appropriate end of Christian higher education, but what if we believe this but do not have the honor of working at a Christian institution?

Can I advocate for shalom to students who are not looking for it? Is it unfair to a student to "indoctrinate" them rather than to give them a fair "objective" choice between this and any other end? I would say that the question is better phrased "Can I not do these things?" Because shalom is good. Absolutely good. That is the point of it, to be good for all people, closer to the love and reconciliation of Christ. If we really believe it, then we cannot help wanting this. We have to believe that every student wants this, that this will improve their human experience... even if they are not looking for it.

The question is raised again as I write my "philosophy of education." If I were submitting this statement to a public institution, how would I state my case without what I believe about humanity made Imago Dei? If the role of the professor is to profess truth, and what I believe to be true is recognizably Christian, what do I do?

I may be simplifying the issue, but I am convinced that there is nothing for it - at some point, perhaps far earlier than we would imagine, the only answer is Christ. Christ-followers may be reacquainting themselves with the embodied gospel, the gospel that demonstrates love and justice instead of simply talking about them, and that is a good thing. However, we cannot hide behind our actions and pretend it is enough. If we truly believe what we claim to believe, action will not be enough.

At some point, the words must be said; God help us say them well.

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)

the lamb has run away

There are many ways to think of Jesus' final week. You could consider who he chooses to teach, the significance of the particular parables he uses, the transition in the gospel of John from Jesus teaching the crowd to teaching his disciples, and etc. But here, with me, think about this - it is a story of gradual betrayal. When Jesus rode into the city on Palm Sunday, who was on his side? Everyone! They welcomed him like a king. By the middle of the week, the religious leaders were disgruntled to say the least; at the last supper, Judas had already betrayed him (that is, "everyone" was now down to eleven, and counting). The eleven abandoned him in the garden, Peter denied him in the courtyard, and finally, on Friday morning, who is still with him? Well, maybe Pilate, but only for curiosity's sake, not for belief's. Jesus stood before the same crowd that loved him just five days earlier and heard them scream out, "Crucify him!"

But think about this picture, will you? The Truth Project talks about it as "The king of the universe put on trial by sinners." It is ridiculous. It is also a beautiful example of Jesus' grace.

Jerusalem at the beginning of that week was exactly as it should be - celebration of the Messiah's arrival. But the Messiah had not completed his work, and there was only one way for him to do so. I call it "systematic alienation": instead of healing, he curses the fig tree and turns all the rich people out of the temple; he teaches in what we call "fighting parables," announcing that judgment is coming; he frustrates the Pharisees' attempts to trap him, then does the same to the Sadducees. By the time he comes to the trial, he has righteously* insulted nearly every Jew in the city, and having the populus upset did nothing to endear him to the Romans either.

There is nothing understandable or forgivable in the betrayal and crucifixion of Christ, just as there is nothing understandable or forgivable in any sin: it was absolutely wrong. And yet, it absolutely had to be done... and Jesus made that possible. He forced no man into any action, but he made it possible for men to justify their sins. If he had not done so - if the king of the universe, the only innocent man to ever live, had not bowed his knee and "asked for it," there would have been no salvation.

So that's something to think on, isn't it? My church has a beautiful tradition during Holy Week that we call Maundy Thursday. Wikipedia tells me that many denominations recognize this day by many different names, but I don't know much of the history of the term. Wikipedia also tells me that "maundy" may come from the Latin mandatum, as in "Jesus said, A new mandate I give to you..."It may also come from the Latin mendicare, which means "to beg." Food for thought.

Grace Church's Maundy Thursday service looks like this: it is a remembrance of our Lord's last hours before the cross, as told by the gospel writers. We don't rescript it - in this one night, we hear from Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, beginning with the Last Supper and going chronologically through that terrible night of betrayal, trial, false trial, retrial, condemnation, and eventually the humiliation and execution. Hearing the Bible read aloud would be enough, but we go a step further - to symbolize the progressive isolation of Jesus' last hours, the lights are gradually put out, and candles for the twelve disciples and the two thieves extinguished, until the only light in the sanctuary is from a single white candle.

At the very end of the service (possibly my favorite moment of the year) Mr. Schaub sings "Watch the Lamb." It brings tears every time. This year, though, I got stuck on that one line: "the lamb has run away." In context with the song, it's cute - the father turns with his sons to the Lamb on the cross, indicating that the wooly variety is now obsolete as a sacrifice.  Perhaps there is more that we could say, though, about our lives as lambs: as dumb sheep who follow when it's easy but get lost quickly in the crowd, who run away from our responsibilities and who rationalize and justify the most horrible things daily... and whose efforts are made obsolete by the God-man who makes it possible for us to do those things in order to be our savior.

These are dark night thoughts, but I look forward to Easter morning and all of the promises that it brings.

*see what I did there?

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'.

The Edge of Recall

Have you ever had a moment pass that you honestly could not remember? For most of us it happens a lot, but usually with relatively insignificant things. But what if it was really important? What if the memory you were grasping at made you question your competence at something vitally important to your life?

In case you haven't figured it out, it happened to me today. I was in a car accident this morning - don't worry, no injuries were incurred - and for the life of me I can't remember how I got into the uncomfortable position of being at fault for a couple hundred dollars' worth of damage to my baby.

It really is the strangest thing: a perfectly beautiful morning, an early start to school, the powerful (yet confusing) strains of "One Night in Bangkok" playing on the radio... and the next thing I knew, I was rolling into an intersection with Joanna shrieking, "Cel, he doesn't have a stop sign!" The nice man I hit stopped cussing when he found out I'm a girl, and turned out to be pretty much the best person with whom I could have collided. Damage to the front corners of our cars, no injuries... it was a thirty-minute experience and Jo and I were merrily on our way.

Except that I then discovered that I had no braking power to speak of. The excitement was only beginning, as we limped the last five miles to Geneva (and through four significant intersections) using D2, L and the E-Brake to regulate our speed. It may sound daunting (or totally normal, I don't know), but that part of the trip was both fun and a relief - perhaps it was the brakes and not careless driving that sent me through that stop sign!

The problem is... I may never know. That moment that I can't for the life of me remember falls between  slowing for the stop sign and feeling the impact of the other vehicle, and it's terrifying.

Most people know me as a very confident driver, and there's nothing I like better than taking my dad's car (manual transmission) out for a completely unnecessary drive in the sunshine or dead of night. When I started driving, however, I was paralyzed with fear - knowing how bad an accident could be and how much responsibility would be on my head even if I wasn't the one who made the mistake. I'm sitting here hoping I don't go back to those insecurities - a timid driver is an unsafe driver - but what if my confidence turned into carelessness this one time? What happens next time?

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 :)