Thursday, October 30, 2008
My First Doll
This is a little floppy/bunting doll for taking to bed. 100% hand formed, cut, and stitched. I learned a lot just from this little project, and now I am in a love affair with un-spun wool and all its possibilities. There may really be a new etsy store opening soon.
A Note To My Reader:
November is coming, and I am still delusional enough to think I am going to participate in NaNoWriMo, plan Thanksgiving Dinner, and move (though, still no official word, we did give our notice here, so I will be moving somewhere. Let's just hope it has yard).
If you do not hear from me for the next month, do not worry! There is also the possibility that I will be blogging even more to escape and avoid the aforementioned projects. I am hoping not, but I just never know =)
I do have a post or two in the draft stage and they might show up soon to leave you with something to ponder.
If you do not hear from me for the next month, do not worry! There is also the possibility that I will be blogging even more to escape and avoid the aforementioned projects. I am hoping not, but I just never know =)
I do have a post or two in the draft stage and they might show up soon to leave you with something to ponder.
Conversations with Søren: On Law Enforcement
Mama finds Søren with a strip of masking tape above his lips and across his face.
"What?!" she exclaims with silliness.
Søren stands up straighter and says officially, "I'm a police officer!"
At this Mama dissolves into laughter wondering how and when Søren noticed that having a mustache was a requirement for being in law enforcement.
"What?!" she exclaims with silliness.
Søren stands up straighter and says officially, "I'm a police officer!"
At this Mama dissolves into laughter wondering how and when Søren noticed that having a mustache was a requirement for being in law enforcement.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Coping Patterns
I have been here before. This is my brain on stress.
My sophomore year at Gutenberg I was preparing for the end of the second year exams (which are arguably the most stressful exams of the entire curriculum) and planning my wedding for spring break. All I could do was knit. I had just learned, and I think I knit 2 scarves before the wedding (took four incompletes that quarter - which I did finish quickly over the summer), and then knit 3 scarves before the exams (during which I think I also cried...twice). The knitting was a bit irrational, but under so much stress, I wanted desperately to see my efforts going into something tangible. With knitting, each stitch builds. You can watch it grow. There is an instant satisfaction.
Skip to senior year. I had a baby and major abdominal operation five weeks before it started, tackled a senior thesis I would still like to do justice (I did finish and graduate on time, but when you cover a topic like "the negative effects of modernism on evangelism, and how Kierkegaard helps offers a better/more-biblical approach", can you really expect to cover it comprehensively in the given time? Alright, maybe you can, but with a husband, a new baby, and full-time classes...well...I could not). All was going well, my time was divvied out as it had to be in order to accomplish everything (um...husband did hire a housekeeper once a week, so I guess I was not covering everything). Then, coming into the final stretch - a mere five months left to graduation - Husband and I realize we took on an investment property that we could not continue to support, and were on the brink of losing. More stress! So, to what do I devote my spring-break energies? Oh, making detailed sketches of my dream house, of course (I used to want to be an architect, before I wanted to be a Physics professor, and after I wanted to be an actress). Again, being creative and crafting something that brought satisfaction was so much more fulfilling than reading Peter Berger again and again to compare the nuances of how conventional christiandom had borrowed the soul-squelching, impersonal methodologies of modernism, and also took my mind off the fact that we were surviving on nothing more than my tutoring income (which was scant, considering my other time constraints).
Skip to the present. We are still suffering the repercussions of almost having the investment property foreclose (gratefully, we did find someone who buys properties on the brink of foreclosure, and they took over our project). We had the hope a good job for a while but, for many, various reasons, it did not work out and left us unexpectedly out of work and put in a position to start up our own company (during an election year and horrible economic climate, ay! 20/20 in hindsight as usual). We remain fighting against impending bankruptcy, even when it would be an easy solution and often feels like the only option. We have had to return (which is basically a repossession) our family vehicle, which means one of us gets to ride in the back of the pick-up whenever we try to go somewhere as a whole family (though, right now, the weather is nice, and I always like to sit in the back because it's a bit of a vacation. I can just read, or knit, or sew). I do get to enjoy views like the one below with plenty of fresh air and the sound of birds chirpping.
We do have a car. This is more than most of the world can say, and I am grateful even for the limited transportation. We have chosen this route. Andrew could go find "a real job" (though we have been fairly actively looking, and it is a very hard time to find work that would support a family). These are the sacrifices we are making, as a family, to invest in our business. I still believe it has good potential, and that it is a good fit for my husband, but it still has yet to pay us. It still remains a gamble with unknown variables that could further contribute to our financial difficulties.
So, in these stressful circumstances, where do I find myself? I find myself knitting and sewing my wee-spare time away (although the boys actually love watching the critters emerge from my knitting needles, so I can actually do a little bit with them). Here is a little catch up on the last few days:
The hen found a mate
This little piggy is awaiting a mother
And this little doll is still in need of a bit more work.
This time around (um...like today) I have had a small idea. Perhaps I could actually make some dolls and critters and sell them (with a bit more practice). At least that way my brain on stress could actually help alleviate the cause of the stress, and not just pleasantly distract me. If I actually endeavor any such thing, I will be sure to let you know. In the mean time, I am having fun and getting very excited about hand-made Christmas gifts.
My sophomore year at Gutenberg I was preparing for the end of the second year exams (which are arguably the most stressful exams of the entire curriculum) and planning my wedding for spring break. All I could do was knit. I had just learned, and I think I knit 2 scarves before the wedding (took four incompletes that quarter - which I did finish quickly over the summer), and then knit 3 scarves before the exams (during which I think I also cried...twice). The knitting was a bit irrational, but under so much stress, I wanted desperately to see my efforts going into something tangible. With knitting, each stitch builds. You can watch it grow. There is an instant satisfaction.
Skip to senior year. I had a baby and major abdominal operation five weeks before it started, tackled a senior thesis I would still like to do justice (I did finish and graduate on time, but when you cover a topic like "the negative effects of modernism on evangelism, and how Kierkegaard helps offers a better/more-biblical approach", can you really expect to cover it comprehensively in the given time? Alright, maybe you can, but with a husband, a new baby, and full-time classes...well...I could not). All was going well, my time was divvied out as it had to be in order to accomplish everything (um...husband did hire a housekeeper once a week, so I guess I was not covering everything). Then, coming into the final stretch - a mere five months left to graduation - Husband and I realize we took on an investment property that we could not continue to support, and were on the brink of losing. More stress! So, to what do I devote my spring-break energies? Oh, making detailed sketches of my dream house, of course (I used to want to be an architect, before I wanted to be a Physics professor, and after I wanted to be an actress). Again, being creative and crafting something that brought satisfaction was so much more fulfilling than reading Peter Berger again and again to compare the nuances of how conventional christiandom had borrowed the soul-squelching, impersonal methodologies of modernism, and also took my mind off the fact that we were surviving on nothing more than my tutoring income (which was scant, considering my other time constraints).
Skip to the present. We are still suffering the repercussions of almost having the investment property foreclose (gratefully, we did find someone who buys properties on the brink of foreclosure, and they took over our project). We had the hope a good job for a while but, for many, various reasons, it did not work out and left us unexpectedly out of work and put in a position to start up our own company (during an election year and horrible economic climate, ay! 20/20 in hindsight as usual). We remain fighting against impending bankruptcy, even when it would be an easy solution and often feels like the only option. We have had to return (which is basically a repossession) our family vehicle, which means one of us gets to ride in the back of the pick-up whenever we try to go somewhere as a whole family (though, right now, the weather is nice, and I always like to sit in the back because it's a bit of a vacation. I can just read, or knit, or sew). I do get to enjoy views like the one below with plenty of fresh air and the sound of birds chirpping.
We do have a car. This is more than most of the world can say, and I am grateful even for the limited transportation. We have chosen this route. Andrew could go find "a real job" (though we have been fairly actively looking, and it is a very hard time to find work that would support a family). These are the sacrifices we are making, as a family, to invest in our business. I still believe it has good potential, and that it is a good fit for my husband, but it still has yet to pay us. It still remains a gamble with unknown variables that could further contribute to our financial difficulties.
So, in these stressful circumstances, where do I find myself? I find myself knitting and sewing my wee-spare time away (although the boys actually love watching the critters emerge from my knitting needles, so I can actually do a little bit with them). Here is a little catch up on the last few days:
The hen found a mate
This little piggy is awaiting a mother
And this little doll is still in need of a bit more work.This time around (um...like today) I have had a small idea. Perhaps I could actually make some dolls and critters and sell them (with a bit more practice). At least that way my brain on stress could actually help alleviate the cause of the stress, and not just pleasantly distract me. If I actually endeavor any such thing, I will be sure to let you know. In the mean time, I am having fun and getting very excited about hand-made Christmas gifts.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
This could get addictive...
Now this lady is SO quick and easy thateveryone could have a chicken for Christmas!
Finished Project!
It feels good to take on knitting projects that are small enough to finish!This gives me hope for making all of our Christmas gifts this year...but I would have to get a lot faster to actually make knit gifts. Still, it is getting me in a crafty and festive mood.
We recently watched the documentary "What Would Jesus Buy" and have decided to try for a shopping-less Christmas this year. We shall see how we do.
In the mean time, the boys seem to love the new "horsey,"
Especially as he complements our latest Craigslist trade (I am currently attempting to sell off our plastic toys and invest in sturdy wood ones)
Friday, October 17, 2008
Conversations with Søren: On Natural Powers
I, holding a delicious, organic, garden-grown grape, remark to Søren, "Hey! We could turn this grape into a raisin!"
"Yeah!" Says Søren excitedly. Then he picks up one of his own and says, "Hey! We could turn this one into a strawberry!"
"Wow!" I exclaim, "Wouldn't that be nice!"
"Yeah!" Says Søren excitedly. Then he picks up one of his own and says, "Hey! We could turn this one into a strawberry!"
"Wow!" I exclaim, "Wouldn't that be nice!"
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Formerly Disgruntled
The formerly disgruntled postal worker rang my bell moments ago, and knocked loudly before giving up and returning to the cream bronco that serves as his official postal vehicle.
I, tucking a nap-resistant 3-year-old into bed, rushed down two flights of stairs to catch him about to buckle. He had a couple certified letters to deliver (nothing serious, business stuff).
Elliot toddled around between our legs sucking on a carrot stick and talk radio blathered from the curb as I signed "here, here, and here" and inquired into his day.
"Good" he said (and it is Thursday!), and returned the question.
"Good," I smiled, and looked at Elliot, "I get to spend the day with this little one."
He proceeded to share with me the names and types of the two dogs he has waiting for him at home. If I were a dog person they might have registered as actual breeds and I might have remembered them well enough to share, but I am not. Suffice it to say he has two dogs.
"My daughter," he shared more, "is grown and gone and has three of these little ones of her own," he added with a nod to Elliot who stares up at him with his big blue eyes without removing the carrot stick from his mouth.
Aha! His is an Opa - though I was a little surprised he was out of his 30's - a talk radio, mail delivering, Opa with graying, fluffy hair (upon closer inspection, I could see 50 years hiding in there). I always wanted an eccentric Opa of my own, but have settled into an acceptance that my grandchildren will likely have one.
Husband has been working outside of the house for the last couple weeks, and has not had the opportunity to chat any further to get an official name for our previously disgruntled postman, but I trust it is coming.
Mr. Rodgers would be proud.
I, tucking a nap-resistant 3-year-old into bed, rushed down two flights of stairs to catch him about to buckle. He had a couple certified letters to deliver (nothing serious, business stuff).
Elliot toddled around between our legs sucking on a carrot stick and talk radio blathered from the curb as I signed "here, here, and here" and inquired into his day.
"Good" he said (and it is Thursday!), and returned the question.
"Good," I smiled, and looked at Elliot, "I get to spend the day with this little one."
He proceeded to share with me the names and types of the two dogs he has waiting for him at home. If I were a dog person they might have registered as actual breeds and I might have remembered them well enough to share, but I am not. Suffice it to say he has two dogs.
"My daughter," he shared more, "is grown and gone and has three of these little ones of her own," he added with a nod to Elliot who stares up at him with his big blue eyes without removing the carrot stick from his mouth.
Aha! His is an Opa - though I was a little surprised he was out of his 30's - a talk radio, mail delivering, Opa with graying, fluffy hair (upon closer inspection, I could see 50 years hiding in there). I always wanted an eccentric Opa of my own, but have settled into an acceptance that my grandchildren will likely have one.
Husband has been working outside of the house for the last couple weeks, and has not had the opportunity to chat any further to get an official name for our previously disgruntled postman, but I trust it is coming.
Mr. Rodgers would be proud.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
30 Little Things: Day 30
I will be a little sad to see this series end, especially as I have actually developed the habit of taking pictures everyday and loading them onto my computer!
Today was milk day, so a bit chaotic, but nothing a good boat making session couldn't fix.
Overhead view from the stern of the vessel, showing the toy cabins. The little captains are actively working to make sure all essential toys join them upon their ship for the long voyage to...church, as decided by the elder captain (oh yeah, we get out a lot).
Today was milk day, so a bit chaotic, but nothing a good boat making session couldn't fix.
Overhead view from the stern of the vessel, showing the toy cabins. The little captains are actively working to make sure all essential toys join them upon their ship for the long voyage to...church, as decided by the elder captain (oh yeah, we get out a lot).
Moving forward to the bow we find the younger captain with food remains on his face hanging on to the side of the boat for fear of his dear life...it seems the current has swept away his pants. The blue pillowcases are waves lapping up onto the boat from the sea. The black vacuum cleaner attachments are the emergency oars in case the motor goes out. Yes, this is really how I spend my day, and no, it really does not get much better.
But Wednesday I'm In Love...
There are days when I dislike the city and all it represents. I want nothing more than to flee to the country to live a "backwards" life of simple sustainability and have room to breath and think. There are also days when I love the city and all its marvels.
True, it may be, the metal boxes we zoom about in risk our lives and insulate us from one another. Yes, they allow for transit and business at such frenzy that we often neglect the stillness our souls need....
BUT
Sometimes I do stop and get caught up in the wonder of it. There is something remarkable about traveling at speeds of 60 miles an hour! That is covering a mile every minute! (yep, I used to be a math tutor, impressed?) Sometimes I enjoy seeing the quicker, bigger picture of the landscape pass. Covering a 30 mile route in 30 minutes, and seeing the hills, valleys, rivers, and changing vegetation is amazing. Lewis and Clark roll in their graves in envy! The awe of driving on a road hundreds of feet above the earth over a bridge that men designed and gliding effortlessly over large expanses of water is hard to match. Perhaps that is why piloting is addicting.
Perhaps my wide-eyed wonder comes from the fact that I am driving, alone, during "The 90's at Noon", and it is taking me back to the optimism of my youth. I am back at Evergreen Jr. High blaring out REM lyrics during lunch breaks with Willy and the other band geeks - who were not geeks at all (really, we were not, I swear). Listening, I am taken back to a time when everything was potential and when I could not wait to be an real adult. Adulthood meant freedom! I knew there was no greater gift than to move out, fall in love, get married, and make my own life.
Listening to that music, and awakening the 14, 15, and 16-year-old in me that would have envied my current position in life, brings a wide grin to my face as I find myself still stumbling through trying to follow the lyrics of songs in an era when "oohuawahahao ah oh" was good writing.
The 14-year-old me sees through eyes twice as old and sees the good, the freedom, of deciding to take my car out without my mother's permission and revels that not only can I drive, but I can drive where I want, according to my own decisions, speeding as I see fit, (or, ahem, obeying the law as I deem responsible), looking out over a beautiful city that I actually know quite well from when I used to roam it with passions I am grateful have simmered down (lest I die from heart attack before turning 30).
The young me can only marvel at the 11 metal bridges that reach out over the long and winding Willamette river. She sees only the glory of creation when crossing the grand Columbia on so lovely and sound a bridge. She is unencumbered (perhaps because their are no children present to remind her of the work of adulthood). She is optimistic as only a youth can be. The 28-year-old me knows the elation is music induced, but she welcomes the tipsy, she is caught up in the infectious grin of her younger self. It is temporary, but still good. A brief re-visitation with a lingering reminder that the world still offers so much good, so much wonder, so much amazement. "Stop and recognize how cool this is," the young Marianne exhorts (for yes, young Marianne was still given to unsolicited exhortation).
So, sure, people were less uptight, more fertile, and enjoyed simpler, more sustainable, pleasures when they grew up on farms drinking raw milk, eating their own eggs, and never traveling further than their horses could carry them...
BUT
All is not lost. All human endeavors will continue to be marked by the wonder of our creative capabilities and genuine goodness while at the same time tainted by the soot of our inescapable depravity and genuine badness. "O", says 28-year-old me, "Do not forget our brokenness! Man writ large will self-destruct!" but today the younger self piped up, "Ah, but do not miss our glory either! Do not forget that God has placed His very image in broken us. Find that image and give it praise."
True, it may be, the metal boxes we zoom about in risk our lives and insulate us from one another. Yes, they allow for transit and business at such frenzy that we often neglect the stillness our souls need....
BUT
Sometimes I do stop and get caught up in the wonder of it. There is something remarkable about traveling at speeds of 60 miles an hour! That is covering a mile every minute! (yep, I used to be a math tutor, impressed?) Sometimes I enjoy seeing the quicker, bigger picture of the landscape pass. Covering a 30 mile route in 30 minutes, and seeing the hills, valleys, rivers, and changing vegetation is amazing. Lewis and Clark roll in their graves in envy! The awe of driving on a road hundreds of feet above the earth over a bridge that men designed and gliding effortlessly over large expanses of water is hard to match. Perhaps that is why piloting is addicting.
Perhaps my wide-eyed wonder comes from the fact that I am driving, alone, during "The 90's at Noon", and it is taking me back to the optimism of my youth. I am back at Evergreen Jr. High blaring out REM lyrics during lunch breaks with Willy and the other band geeks - who were not geeks at all (really, we were not, I swear). Listening, I am taken back to a time when everything was potential and when I could not wait to be an real adult. Adulthood meant freedom! I knew there was no greater gift than to move out, fall in love, get married, and make my own life.
Listening to that music, and awakening the 14, 15, and 16-year-old in me that would have envied my current position in life, brings a wide grin to my face as I find myself still stumbling through trying to follow the lyrics of songs in an era when "oohuawahahao ah oh" was good writing.
The 14-year-old me sees through eyes twice as old and sees the good, the freedom, of deciding to take my car out without my mother's permission and revels that not only can I drive, but I can drive where I want, according to my own decisions, speeding as I see fit, (or, ahem, obeying the law as I deem responsible), looking out over a beautiful city that I actually know quite well from when I used to roam it with passions I am grateful have simmered down (lest I die from heart attack before turning 30).
The young me can only marvel at the 11 metal bridges that reach out over the long and winding Willamette river. She sees only the glory of creation when crossing the grand Columbia on so lovely and sound a bridge. She is unencumbered (perhaps because their are no children present to remind her of the work of adulthood). She is optimistic as only a youth can be. The 28-year-old me knows the elation is music induced, but she welcomes the tipsy, she is caught up in the infectious grin of her younger self. It is temporary, but still good. A brief re-visitation with a lingering reminder that the world still offers so much good, so much wonder, so much amazement. "Stop and recognize how cool this is," the young Marianne exhorts (for yes, young Marianne was still given to unsolicited exhortation).
So, sure, people were less uptight, more fertile, and enjoyed simpler, more sustainable, pleasures when they grew up on farms drinking raw milk, eating their own eggs, and never traveling further than their horses could carry them...
BUT
All is not lost. All human endeavors will continue to be marked by the wonder of our creative capabilities and genuine goodness while at the same time tainted by the soot of our inescapable depravity and genuine badness. "O", says 28-year-old me, "Do not forget our brokenness! Man writ large will self-destruct!" but today the younger self piped up, "Ah, but do not miss our glory either! Do not forget that God has placed His very image in broken us. Find that image and give it praise."
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
A Pet Project: An Update
Husband has been standing outside talking to Disgruntled Postal Worker for over 5 minutes!
Remember, it is Saturday, so it is his approachable day.
I cannot wait for the report!
----------------------------
15 Minutes Later
The Report:
Husband employed the strategy of commenting on the lovely weather we are having today, the conversation went similarly with the Disgruntled saying, "Thanks for taking a minute to talk," so husband stayed to talk more.
"Sure," Husband said, "I work from home, so I often enjoy over hearing your talk radio from the truck."
"You listen to talk radio?" Disgruntled asks.
"No, but I listen to yours," replies Husband.
The banter continued along the lines of talk radio, Obama, and a brief mention of the "We The People" movement to Disgruntled (who may have to have a new name from here on out...like perhaps his actual name) who had never heard of it. They casually chatted for ten more minutes while the various letters, bills, glossy advertisements and magazines found their appropriate metal boxes.
Disgruntled finished, locked the metal walls with their four-digit addresses, and told Husband that he would be back Tuesday with a large load of mail. Then - get this - he invited Husband to look for him and come chat again while he unloads the mail.
Oh the wonder of being human! Oh how we need one another!
May we all reach out today to find unexpected camaraderie in the strangers who surround us.
Remember, it is Saturday, so it is his approachable day.
I cannot wait for the report!
----------------------------
15 Minutes Later
The Report:
Husband employed the strategy of commenting on the lovely weather we are having today, the conversation went similarly with the Disgruntled saying, "Thanks for taking a minute to talk," so husband stayed to talk more.
"Sure," Husband said, "I work from home, so I often enjoy over hearing your talk radio from the truck."
"You listen to talk radio?" Disgruntled asks.
"No, but I listen to yours," replies Husband.
The banter continued along the lines of talk radio, Obama, and a brief mention of the "We The People" movement to Disgruntled (who may have to have a new name from here on out...like perhaps his actual name) who had never heard of it. They casually chatted for ten more minutes while the various letters, bills, glossy advertisements and magazines found their appropriate metal boxes.
Disgruntled finished, locked the metal walls with their four-digit addresses, and told Husband that he would be back Tuesday with a large load of mail. Then - get this - he invited Husband to look for him and come chat again while he unloads the mail.
Oh the wonder of being human! Oh how we need one another!
May we all reach out today to find unexpected camaraderie in the strangers who surround us.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
30 Little Things: Day 21 **updated again**
What you might come home with if you were to attend a home church and mention to the hosts that your car was just repossessed, and you are not sure where rent is coming from.(I should also note that the night before we had to turn in the car, an acquaintance from out of the blue offered us the use of their second vehicle. Praise God, who truly knows what we need before we ask it, and simply asks us not to worry.)
**we now know where rent is coming from =) **
**We are now car-less again, in case you too have an extra car you don't need**
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
The Difficulty of Ministry
Gutenberg spent time, a few years ago, pursuing accreditation. It is of no concern to me if my degree is accredited or not - as the actual education they offered was what I wanted. That said, the accreditation process seemed a grueling one, and one for which such a unique program is not well-suited. They pursued accreditation through a Christian accreditation organization, which further complicated things because they were modern Christians through and through; they wanted measurable evidence of spiritual growth. It begged the question, "how does one measure spiritual growth?" For the time, the accreditation committee had to sit in and watch us, see how we interacted, talk to us about our faith, and talk to us about Gutenberg's contributions. I think they were satisfied that something remarkable does indeed take place in that small, non-traditional college. I can vouch for that myself.
During the last couple years, I have also watched some decisions amongst some alumni that could tempt me to think that spiritual maturity did not take place. There have been several decisions that do not seem to fit with the aims, work, and hope of the Gutenberg College staff for its students. I have been tempted to ask, "Has Gutenberg failed?" At the same time, of course, there are still alumni continuing to pursue truth beautifully, endure suffering with perseverance, trust the God who authored this existence, and remain grateful for the training not only intellectually, but in wisdom, that took place in that little brick building (and sometimes on the lawn or at a coffee shop or McMinnamins nearby).
So why such a dichotomy? I was struck that Gutenberg strips Christianity bare. It leaves no value in the church's cultural trappings. It does not say, "but look how convenient this philosophy is for governing or parenting" it strikes straight at the heart leaving no value to Christianity unless one truly has faith. It exposes the very difficulty of such a task. The tutors model the beauty and value of the task. Their brilliance demonstrates that it is a very intellectually satisfying decision. There is every encouragement towards such a decision (the decision to truly have faith), but there is every warning against the worthlessness of going through the motions without genuine faith. During the four years, it is an unavoidable fact that each student will be placed in a position of halting before the very real decision, "Do I actually believe this?" if they have not already done so.
I wish that it were possible to guarentee that every person who finishes Gutenberg College will be, therefore, transformed into a wise, sincere follower of Jesus. I long for guarantees in discipleship just as I long for guarantees in parenting. We are not given guarantees. Really, we ought to be concerned with our own soul and with our own faith. My own soul is enough trouble each day. I think that discipleship and service and education and evangelism and imploring-people-to-make-eternally-significant-decisions come pouring out as an overflow when you are in the midst of your own "infinite interest in your own eternal happiness" (a phrase from Kierkegaard's Johannes Climacus, Postscripts), so I am not suggesting we give up ministry endeavors. In fact, I am glad for the lack of guarentees, for it reminds me that "it does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs, but on God who has mercy" (Rom 9:16).
I think there is also value - and maturity - in honesty. It does not bless the Church to have millions of "members" who are not actually citizens of heaven. While, obviously, we are not given the discernment to make judgments of anyone's soul, it is helpful to present the gospel in such a way that someone either actually embraces it or actually rejects it. It does no one any good to muddle the message to the point that the people embracing it are actually embracing a club that makes them feel good, or a method that makes their kids obey, or a morality that makes them feel righteous from their own actions. Likewise, there is great danger in presenting the message so buried in cultural trappings that the people rejecting it are only rejecting a concept, or club that makes them feel bad or awkward, or a method that seems hypocritical, etc. It is important to present the gospel in a way that allows one to actually understand the difficulty - the offense - of the gospel. You cannot embrace the gospel without confronting the possibility of offense (Kierkegaard, Practice In Christianity).
It seems, perhaps, what Gutenberg is so successful in doing, is presenting the offense of the gospel to its students. What a beautiful thing, because the students leave knowing what they are facing. They leave intellectually equipped to embrace the gospel and not be offended - if that is how they are designed. The frightening thing about authentically bringing someone to the brink of decision, is that they can still say, "No, thank you," if they are not called. Yet, far worse, is to never lead anyone to the point of decision so as never to risk rejection. With Christianity, one has to risk rejection to achieve acceptance. Gratefully, the kings hands are like channels of water in the hands of God, and He turns them where He wishes (Prov 21:1). How much more is this true for our own, non-kingly hearts? Gratefully, we also have our whole lives to confront and re-confront the question.
To help others along this path is frightening indeed, and yet the tutors of Gutenberg do this with wisdom and grace, and I will continue to praise God for their ministry, regardless of whether it looks convincing to external, measuring eyes.
During the last couple years, I have also watched some decisions amongst some alumni that could tempt me to think that spiritual maturity did not take place. There have been several decisions that do not seem to fit with the aims, work, and hope of the Gutenberg College staff for its students. I have been tempted to ask, "Has Gutenberg failed?" At the same time, of course, there are still alumni continuing to pursue truth beautifully, endure suffering with perseverance, trust the God who authored this existence, and remain grateful for the training not only intellectually, but in wisdom, that took place in that little brick building (and sometimes on the lawn or at a coffee shop or McMinnamins nearby).
So why such a dichotomy? I was struck that Gutenberg strips Christianity bare. It leaves no value in the church's cultural trappings. It does not say, "but look how convenient this philosophy is for governing or parenting" it strikes straight at the heart leaving no value to Christianity unless one truly has faith. It exposes the very difficulty of such a task. The tutors model the beauty and value of the task. Their brilliance demonstrates that it is a very intellectually satisfying decision. There is every encouragement towards such a decision (the decision to truly have faith), but there is every warning against the worthlessness of going through the motions without genuine faith. During the four years, it is an unavoidable fact that each student will be placed in a position of halting before the very real decision, "Do I actually believe this?" if they have not already done so.
I wish that it were possible to guarentee that every person who finishes Gutenberg College will be, therefore, transformed into a wise, sincere follower of Jesus. I long for guarantees in discipleship just as I long for guarantees in parenting. We are not given guarantees. Really, we ought to be concerned with our own soul and with our own faith. My own soul is enough trouble each day. I think that discipleship and service and education and evangelism and imploring-people-to-make-eternally-significant-decisions come pouring out as an overflow when you are in the midst of your own "infinite interest in your own eternal happiness" (a phrase from Kierkegaard's Johannes Climacus, Postscripts), so I am not suggesting we give up ministry endeavors. In fact, I am glad for the lack of guarentees, for it reminds me that "it does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs, but on God who has mercy" (Rom 9:16).
I think there is also value - and maturity - in honesty. It does not bless the Church to have millions of "members" who are not actually citizens of heaven. While, obviously, we are not given the discernment to make judgments of anyone's soul, it is helpful to present the gospel in such a way that someone either actually embraces it or actually rejects it. It does no one any good to muddle the message to the point that the people embracing it are actually embracing a club that makes them feel good, or a method that makes their kids obey, or a morality that makes them feel righteous from their own actions. Likewise, there is great danger in presenting the message so buried in cultural trappings that the people rejecting it are only rejecting a concept, or club that makes them feel bad or awkward, or a method that seems hypocritical, etc. It is important to present the gospel in a way that allows one to actually understand the difficulty - the offense - of the gospel. You cannot embrace the gospel without confronting the possibility of offense (Kierkegaard, Practice In Christianity).
It seems, perhaps, what Gutenberg is so successful in doing, is presenting the offense of the gospel to its students. What a beautiful thing, because the students leave knowing what they are facing. They leave intellectually equipped to embrace the gospel and not be offended - if that is how they are designed. The frightening thing about authentically bringing someone to the brink of decision, is that they can still say, "No, thank you," if they are not called. Yet, far worse, is to never lead anyone to the point of decision so as never to risk rejection. With Christianity, one has to risk rejection to achieve acceptance. Gratefully, the kings hands are like channels of water in the hands of God, and He turns them where He wishes (Prov 21:1). How much more is this true for our own, non-kingly hearts? Gratefully, we also have our whole lives to confront and re-confront the question.
To help others along this path is frightening indeed, and yet the tutors of Gutenberg do this with wisdom and grace, and I will continue to praise God for their ministry, regardless of whether it looks convincing to external, measuring eyes.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
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