planetrjoy

[planetrjoy]

hey, it's me again.

I like fantasy books and movies because of the good and the beauty within them. This has been true for me for as long as I can remember, although I haven't thought much recently about the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. It speaks to deep things within my soul, and yet I don't know how to find it in my life in this world or how to talk to anyone else about it.

I used to try to find it in the Christianity I grew up with, but that no longer makes sense to me. Within this framework, good things were listening to Christian radio and going to church; bad things were watching R-rated movies and smoking cigarettes. It was a black-and-white way to view the world that I now see as having as many colors as there are people on the planet. 

Then I began to see good vs. evil in terms of social justice. Justice and human rights are good. Poverty and inequality are bad. But you can't go out and slay poverty with a sword. You can't cut off the head of injustice. They are complex issues with as many perspectives as there are people. And the more I learn about them, the harder it seems to know what is right or good.

I went through a phase where I thought love was the answer -- love for all humankind. But when I found that I couldn't seem to understand what love is, I stopped trying because I wanted to escape the sense of shame that came from not being able to live up to a standard that I didn't even comprehend. 

Shame because I couldn't live according to the Christianity that I perceived, shame because I didn't know how to bring justice to the world, shame because I was afraid I did not know how to love. 

So where does this leave me? Disillusioned. Confused. Lost. Unsure about what is good or bad in this world, or where I seem to fit in it. 

I believe in being kind to people. I believe in enjoying small, simple things like sunsets or chocolate shaped like dinosaurs. I believe in spending time with friends -- laughing and eating and sharing with each other the things that are meaningful to us.

But is there more to it than this? More in life? More for me?

I hope so. I hope I can discover something more someday. For now, I'm not in such a bad place, really. But I hope that someday, even if I cannot understand or know more, I can at least be somehow more at peace. 

Shalom,

reba.

[planetrjoy]

Rebecca's (current) worldview

In perfect adherence to the college student stereotype, I entered Whitworth as a freshman convinced of everything I thought I knew – and left as a graduate who had been humbled by seeing her very foundation shaken time and time again. As a freshman, I was certain of my supposed knowledge of reality, of God, of right and wrong, of my place in the world, and of what my future would hold. Now? I inhabit the land of the “probably.”

There is probably a God. Am I certain? No. Will I ever be certain? Maybe not. There is a reason “faith” is called “faith,” as I am learning. There are many reasons not to believe in a God: the evil things that happen in the world, lack of evidence, varying (and often conflicting) views among theists. But despite these obstacles, it is not irrational to believe in a God. For me, it is my faith that grounds many of my other beliefs about the world.

I believe that God created the world, a beautiful place with both physical and spiritual components. He created humans good, but granted them free will, giving them the ability to turn from Him, which is where evil comes from. Am I fully certain of this story? No, but it offers an explanation for some things I am certain of, in particular: that humans are, at their core, both good and bad. I believe that every person has a tendency toward and a potential for both good and bad. The choices people make are influenced largely by their environments, but it is possible for people to go against the grain, for instance, by having hope in spite of tough circumstances.

So what of all this good and evil, both within people and manifested in their actions toward one another? One answer to this question is that God has redeemed all things through the death and resurrection of Jesus. No, I don’t really understand how or why. But I have hope that one day evil things will be destroyed, and all who trust God will live forever, in only goodness, in His country. I don’t know if all people will be redeemed, or only some people. I am skeptical about much of what people think they know.

In fact, I am skeptical about a lot of things. But I don’t think these things inhibit the way I live my life. Are tables and chairs real? Probably. Maybe I don’t know they are. Or maybe I don’t know that I know they are. But, regardless, I am going to live as if they are – and as if I (and others around me) can have knowledge of physical objects, abstract ideas, morality, and even God. I possess different degrees of certainty about our knowledge of each of these things, but my actions will flow from the presumption that we can have this knowledge.

On a level of daily interactions with people, I think it is even harder to have knowledge. People often think they know much about who another person is, when, in reality, all they have is their perceptions. Too many people are over-confident in these perceptions, and, consequently, make faulty judgments based on them. We can never know who a person really, truly is at his or her core, aside from the knowledge that he or she is influenced by both good and bad. So how are we supposed to live? What ought we to do? With the knowledge of the existence of both good and bad, and the command of God to love others, we ought to strive to love others. Morality is love. What does this mean? “Love” is a tricky word to define, but I think it means acting toward others in a way that has their best interest in mind and that will bring them closer to the good. Our idea of this – what their best interest might be or what the good is – may be convoluted by the imperfections of our mindsets, our circumstances, or our culture, but, at the end of the day, I believe God’s grace redeems all of these shortcomings.  

One of my favorite Bible verses, 1 Corinthians 13:12, promises that though we now “see through a glass, darkly,” someday we shall see “face to face.” Maybe some of the things I think I know are actually untrue. Or only partially true, like the obscured image of a darkly lit, fogged-up mirror. This is the land of the probably. But I have faith that someday the dark, foggy mirror will by replaced by bright, clear reality. Someday I will advance from the land of the probably to the land of the certain.

[planetrjoy]

Three things about hope

The assignment for Week Two of Blog Month was to list three things about a word. We were given a list of words, from which “hope” jumped out and screamed my name. I’ve noticed that each blog prompt so far has resonated either with something I’ve already written or with something forming in my mind, waiting to be written.

But that’s beside the point, really. So without further ado, three things about hope:

  1.     Hope is powerful.

One of my dearest friends recently lost her first love. He literally fell off a cliff and died. Convinced that this is one of the most painful things anyone could ever go through, my heart breaks for her every time I think about it. I cannot imagine the sorrow she must have had to face – and must still face.

And yet, in the midst of such grief, my friend has hope. “I have hope that one day I will be happy again,” she said. “I’m not happy right now, but I have hope that one day I will be.”

Wow. I was astounded. Her pain was evident. But just as evident was her incredible courage to press on, her strength to undergo the struggle, and her faith that the future will be better.

Some people in a similar position would completely fall apart. But not my friend. Propelled by hope, she is holding out for when things get better. Because she knows they will.

2.    Hope is possible in all circumstances.

My aunt has dementia. I didn’t realize how severe it had gotten until I visited my aunt and uncle last month. 

My uncle can’t leave her at home alone because she will wander away and get lost. After being told seven times that they are attending a particular event on a given day, she is (once more) surprised to learn of its existence. As she is unable to cook or even set the table, her primary household chore is doing the dishes.  

My uncle’s life companion, partner, and best friend has become someone he must look after and take care of. His response? Hope.

This is a new change in his life. And with every change, he said, there is good and bad. “Every change?” I asked him. Every change.

He talked about how every circumstance in our lives is an opportunity to be faithful to God, regardless of how good or how bad things seem. And the thing about life is that, in all things, the good and the bad – the delightful and the difficult, the beauty and the pain – are all muddled up together inseparably.

We can’t escape that. But we can have hope in God’s redemptive work in our lives. Regardless of the circumstance.

  3.    Hope is potential, both internally and externally.

Yes, I tried really hard to make Point Number Three follow the “Hope is… p_____l” pattern, which is why it sounds so convoluted. I’ll re-word it in the next sentence:  

Hope is both (1) a choice you make in your own life, and (2) something you can share with other people.

My previous two points are based on the inner reactions of two individuals toward the situations they face. The way we choose, internally, to respond to what happens to us is crucial.

But external things can affect our response too. Sometimes the encouragement of a friend or a stranger is all we need to find the hope to keep on keeping on. Sometimes this simple encouragement is the butterfly that broke the camel’s back of despair. (Yeah, yeah, I know. My metaphors are kind of bewildering sometimes.)

This is where the exhortation comes in. Because regardless of what’s going on in your life, you have the potential to cultivate hope, both in yourself and in others. 

This is what Compassion International is all about. A study published in Christianity Today, found that sponsoring a child brings him or her an undeniable and life-changing hope.

In the words of Wess Stafford, president of Compassion, “many of these children don’t think they are capable of much. We help them realize that they are each given special gifts from God to benefit their communities, and we try to help them develop aspirations for their future.”

If you want to sponsor a child today, click here.

And remember: you have power to create hope and change, both in yourself and in those around you.

[planetrjoy]

What I learned from 11-year-old me

I cleaned out my desk a week ago.

For the first time in ten years.

It was a strange, nostalgic window back in time. Most of the stuff I found was from 11-year-old me.

I saw so much of who I used to be. I was the kid who sat there for hours and drew floor plans for tree houses and rabbit holes. Or imagined the six siblings in my 19th century family or my five imaginary best friends. My world was in my head. It always has been. 

I wrote then too. I chronicled my life in The Rebecca Times.

So much of 11-year-old Rebecca is who I still am. 

But some things were different. I wasn’t jaded then. Wasn’t cynical or depressed. I didn’t feel inferior because I was different. And I absolutely adored the people closest to me. “What have I become?” I thought, tears streaming down my face. “Who am I?”

Who I am indeed? I have certainly changed in some ways. When I was younger, there were a lot of people who were different and, therefore, bad – e.g. strangers and kids who went to (spoken in a whispered hush) public schools. Then, sometime between age 11 and age 21 – high school, most likely – I decided it was me who was different and, therefore, bad or wrong. Insecurities and unpropitious complexes ensued.

But sometime after that – Whitworth era, no doubt – thanks to God’s love and some dear people in my life, I finally realized a simple truth: it’s OK to be different. 

It’s short. It’s cliché. But it’s true.

We are all different. But it’s okay. Every one of us is on a different journey. A different story. These stories are filled with joy and anger, hope and bitterness, love and pain. Some of us have more or less of each of these things. But, in the end, we all just want to be loved.

I did. And I still do.

The kid I used to be was quiet, timid, and perhaps rather lacking in the social skills department. But she had a beautiful world inside her head and a beautiful, simple love for the people closest to her. Sometimes the most beautiful people are the ones who don’t seem impressive or good at communicating or even “normal”: children, the elderly, the disabled. But their passion for life and their pure, strong love for those dearest to them can be more powerful than the most normal, impressive good communicator.

And you know what? I still am that kid I used to be. I’ve just grown since then – physically, mentally, spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically (name that movie reference, anyone?).

I’m on a journey. We all are. And we all have the power to love other people regardless of how different they may be.

My trip into the past has newly inspired me to hang on to the beautiful, non-cynical hope and joy of 11-year-old Rebecca. I just want to love people. I know it’s cheesy, but: I want to love everybody.

It’s okay to be me. And it’s okay for other people to be who they are. The beauty of the gospel is the beauty of unconditional love. And that’s what life is all about.

[planetrjoy]

In Which Rebecca Discusses Heroes

Recently, I was listening to a sermon that was, on the whole, excellent – but for one thing the pastor said. He was talking about the heroes of the Hebrews 11 faith passage, and made some critical comment about my generation’s idea of a hero. Athletes and actors, he said. 

I was indignant. Did he actually ask anyone in my generation who his or her heroes are? Feeling insulted, I thought: “My heroes are Jean Valjean, the Little Prince, and Luke Skywalker.” It wasn’t like I had thought about it before. These were just the first people who came to mind.

But, later, as this incident replayed itself in my thoughts, I realized that these three individuals have something in common: each sacrificed himself for the sake of another. 

For his father, for his flower, for a complete stranger – each character was willing to give up his life (either literally or very nearly so). 

Unwittingly, I had pegged as “heroic” the greatest existing act of love. I remembered John 15:13, in which Jesus declares that: “greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.” Or for his father or a flower or a stranger.

Indeed, this self-sacrificing love is the deepest, the strongest, and the most beautiful kind of love. As I thought more about it, my brain took me to God’s Story. But of course! This is the core of the gospel. Jesus himself laid down his life, in the ultimate act of self-sacrifice. He sacrificed himself for us. Because of God’s indomitable love. This is why love and self-sacrifice are so closely linked, why both are so honorable, and why both are found in the noblest of heroes. 

And so, to my pastor friend: I challenge you to ask a few members of my generation who their heroes are. And then discuss why they hold them in such regard. You might be surprised. Maybe you won’t hear many Abrahams and Noahs mentioned. But you just might discover that the nobility and love of God’s Story can often be found in the least likely of places.

[planetrjoy]

I always thought circular reasoning was a bad idea, but...

I have come to perceive that regardless of the truth of Christianity, it is a beautiful story that teaches hope, grace, redemption and true love. These form the backbone of all that is good and beautiful, around us and in our hearts. Whether the story is true or not, it is one that aligns beautifully with a great many good and honorable pursuits, a driving force to become a better person from the inside out.

And when I realize what I truly am, at my core, when I learn to recognize how flawed, how sinful, how ugly my inner nature can be, it inspires me to become better. And yet, while we sometimes know what we can do to become better, sometimes it is something that is simply beyond our reach. To use an idea of Plato’s (from his Meno), if we don’t know something, how can we know what it is that we need to learn? If I don’t know what I need to learn to become better, how can I take any steps toward that end? Unless… God is teaching me. And so I seek God. I ask Him to show me how to love others. How to see myself and other people as He sees me/them. That He would reveal Himself to me that I might know Him better. That He would guide the steps of my day and walk with me. That I might live in His will for me. That I would become more like Jesus every day.

OK, that’s lovely. But… what is it that bothers me?

These are lovely aims. To become a better person who exemplifies love. But… is this the ultimate aim? Am I pursuing a faith in order to achieve this end? Or am I seeking to know and love God as the ultimate end in and of itself?

Jesus said whoever loves Him will follow His commands. But we follow His commands BECAUSE – as a result of – loving Him. It is not the other way around.

I wonder if many people pursue a relationship with God simply because they think it is a good thing to do. Because it is a means to an end. If I grow in my relationship with God, I will become a better person. Why do you want to be a better person anyway? To honor God? Or is there another reason? 

Well… if I am a better person, I can show God’s love to others.

So that they might see more clearly who God is? Or so that everyone will know how selfless you are? Or so that you can ease your guilty conscience?

Where does the guilt come from anyway? Not from God, to be sure. From other people, of course. Those who pressure us to do this or that because it will further the kingdom or it will get us into heaven or it will… etc. Do we do the things we do because of societal pressures or the commands of church leaders or to appear as good as our friends?

Here’s another one: if I am a better person, then I will finally meet my future spouse, because I will finally deserve him or her. And/or I will finally love God enough that I will put Him first even with this other person in my life. Really? Something tells me that that’s not how it works…

Acting this way or that way does not make us worthy of this or that thing in our lives (a spouse, admiration of others, easing the feeling of guilt). Because the Story is not about worth or what we can do to be deserving. The Story is about the love and grace of God that met us when we were undeserving. We were unworthy, but God said, “I love you. You are mine.”

The beauty of the Story is that it doesn’t matter what others think of us. It doesn’t matter how hard we try to be deserving. What matters is God’s love for us. Our desire to love others stems from God’s love, not from any other source. Our motivation – our goal, our aim, our end – is Him, and Him alone 

This is why the truth of the story is so important. I don’t want to believe the story only because I like the way the story makes me feel. Sometimes I may not like how the story makes me feel. And I don’t want to believe the story only because it will make me better. This, too, is flawed, because it also rests on an unstable foundation – e.g. how others perceive me, how I feel about myself, how it can benefit me in the long run.

So, in the spirit of circular reasoning, the Story is the reason to believe the Story. Any other reason falls short.

But what can we do when we doubt its truth? What are we supposed to do when the atheists say, “But what proof do you have? By Ockham’s Razor, isn’t it simpler to believe there is no God? In which case, in the absence of proof, why believe in one?” Or when the agnostics say, “Why then is there such horrendous, unresolved evil in the world?” Or when the humanists say, “Can’t we love people, living out grace and justice, without believing in a God?” Or when we ourselves say, “Why do I feel like my prayers are bouncing against the ceiling and reaching no one’s ears but my own? 

Indeed, I could give you an answer to each of these questions. But, at the end of the day, is it entirely sufficient? How can we live out a faith that requires a fully and completely committed belief, and yet, has no completely solid proof? I realize that this is why it is called “faith,” but somehow this leaves me still searching for answers.

I know that now we “see in a glass dimly,” but we will one day see “face to face.” I know that “what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” I know that “faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” These are beautiful words. But sometimes, in a world in which so many voices scream contradictory messages, I find the confusion unsatisfying.

Is there beauty in remaining steadfast in the midst of confusion? Is there honor in clinging to faith when feelings or circumstances make it uncomfortable? Is there reason in maintaining the belief that redemption will conquer in the end, fulfilling ancient promises in a glorious ending to the truest story ever told?

Or is it just… crazy? 

I guess I don’t know. Does anyone, really? But, perhaps, if we do cling to the faith, pursue God, and love others, maybe, just maybe, little by little, step by step, and other clichés that add way too many commas to this sentence… maybe it will begin to make more sense. And maybe someday it will make complete sense. And it will be beautiful.

[planetrjoy]

“What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

[planetrjoy]

“I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy; the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

C.S. Lewis