Tomorrow is April Fools Day. In keeping with the tradition of the day, I salute you fools out there. Whether you are a fool for guitar-playing men, beautiful women, good wine, a good joke... or... maybe...just maybe...
"men ought to regard us as servants of Christ and as those entrusted with the secret things of God...for it seems to me that God put us apostles on display at the end of the procession (like a circus?), like men condemned to die in the arena. We have been made a spectacle to the WHOLE UNIVERSE, to angels as well as to men. WE ARE FOOLS FOR CHRIST, but you are so wise in Christ!.. when we are cursed we bless, when we are slandered we answer kindly. Up to this moment we have become the scum of the earth, the refuse of the world."
I remember in China feeling like a fool.. like a spectcle every time I walked down the street. I remember well what it was like to feel like a monkey on display in a world that did not understand or thought that I was out of place. Have Christians molded in-- making sure that we not offend-- so much that we are no longer fools, no longer seen as spectecles at the end of the procession? Most of us have no comprehension of what it is like to be like a man condemned to death.
We have been entrusted with the secret things of God. We have the mind of Christ. The spirit of God, which knows the thoughts of God. And yet we are fools. To the world. Or are we anymore?
Thursday, March 31, 2005
What Kara does to avoid her Thesis...
What's Your Sense of Humor?
Kara, your sense of humor is Banter
Like a king of pinball, you've made an art of playing off of people because your sense of humor is all about banter. Like many great comedians before you, a roundtable of friends, or a roomful of targets, is the catalyst for what makes you laugh. It brings out the wit — and sometimes the nitwit — in everyone. It's quantity, not quality that matters as you and your friends alternate outbursts like the riffs of a hit single. Here's the bottom line: You're a social creature. Other people's inside jokes even strike you as funny. You manage to gravitate toward people who can appreciate a tall tale and you've probably never hesitated to fire off a zinger — even in a roomful of strangers. So keep it up with your bantering methods. Laughter, after all, keeps the world going 'round.
Kara, your sense of humor is Banter
Like a king of pinball, you've made an art of playing off of people because your sense of humor is all about banter. Like many great comedians before you, a roundtable of friends, or a roomful of targets, is the catalyst for what makes you laugh. It brings out the wit — and sometimes the nitwit — in everyone. It's quantity, not quality that matters as you and your friends alternate outbursts like the riffs of a hit single. Here's the bottom line: You're a social creature. Other people's inside jokes even strike you as funny. You manage to gravitate toward people who can appreciate a tall tale and you've probably never hesitated to fire off a zinger — even in a roomful of strangers. So keep it up with your bantering methods. Laughter, after all, keeps the world going 'round.
The games we play
From a book I'm reading...
"Philosopher George Hebert Mead memorably employed the game metaphor to understand how children take the roles of others. Perhaps the most explicit metaphor of social life as a game is Norton Long's "Community as an Ecology of Games." Long argues that community life can be seen as a set of intersecting social worlds. In each social world, participants struggle for strategic and tactical advantage. As in more artificial games, success is measurable, as players are able to tell the score. Memorably, sociologist Erving Goffman argued that social life could be understood as a form of "strategic interaction."...in that human activity, for Goffman, is strategic, contingent upon the responses of others, and is unscripted."
Is this true? Is love strategic? Do we struggle for tactical advantage in community?
From another book I read over Christmas break...
"I need other presences, and I will do almost anything to acquire them. I have to learn, however, that the support and love I crave can come to me only as a gift. Love is a gift or it is nothing. Insofar as we are able to reject strategies of possessiveness and manipulation, the conditions are already being set for the development of real soul making, of real loving."
The word that always gets me in this quote- the one that scalds my heart with each reading- is the word manipulation. I had an conversation with a friend just the other day about “girl manipulation” in relationship. The more I am honest with myself, I wonder sometimes how much of my love is honest, and how much is manipulation for something that I want. Is this, therefore, part of the “game?” Am I trying to win?
"Philosopher George Hebert Mead memorably employed the game metaphor to understand how children take the roles of others. Perhaps the most explicit metaphor of social life as a game is Norton Long's "Community as an Ecology of Games." Long argues that community life can be seen as a set of intersecting social worlds. In each social world, participants struggle for strategic and tactical advantage. As in more artificial games, success is measurable, as players are able to tell the score. Memorably, sociologist Erving Goffman argued that social life could be understood as a form of "strategic interaction."...in that human activity, for Goffman, is strategic, contingent upon the responses of others, and is unscripted."
Is this true? Is love strategic? Do we struggle for tactical advantage in community?
From another book I read over Christmas break...
"I need other presences, and I will do almost anything to acquire them. I have to learn, however, that the support and love I crave can come to me only as a gift. Love is a gift or it is nothing. Insofar as we are able to reject strategies of possessiveness and manipulation, the conditions are already being set for the development of real soul making, of real loving."
The word that always gets me in this quote- the one that scalds my heart with each reading- is the word manipulation. I had an conversation with a friend just the other day about “girl manipulation” in relationship. The more I am honest with myself, I wonder sometimes how much of my love is honest, and how much is manipulation for something that I want. Is this, therefore, part of the “game?” Am I trying to win?
Friday, March 25, 2005
Rejection and Redemption
In Donald Miller's book "Searching for God Knows What" he espouses several theories attempting to explain this human behavior that we do. One is related to the memory that he has as a child of seeing a circus act and the circus people all sitting around talking to each other. He talks about how, even in the circus-- a cult of freaks and weirdos-- there is a hierarchy, some acts that are seen as more valuable than others. Even among the rejected, there is a sense of order about who is better than another. At one point he says, "One writer said that what we commonly think of as love is really the desire to be loved. I know this is true for me, and it has been true for years, that often when I want somebody to like me, I am really wanting them to say that I am redeemed, that I am not a loser, that I can stay in the circus, that my act redeems me."
I have been thinking about this rejection idea a lot in my life not only here lately, but off and on for the past year. It absolutely astonishes me how much it hurts, and how damaging it can be to my future-- making me do these weird things and behave in bizarre ways-- all because I have once been told either in word or deed, "I don't want you."
Even now, as I write those words, they burn my eyes to read them.
There are times when people can reject us without intentionally meaning to hurt, even. Isn't rejection inherent in choice? When someone is choosing a best friend, a mate, the captain of the quiz bowl team, who to give the secret password to, isn't the value in that choice (if you are the one chosen) that you were selected, above others? Everyone can't be chosen. Some get told, "I don't want you".
But it wasn't until the other night that I was sitting in the dark trying to sleep, that I think I caught a new glimpse of this idea of redemption- in the light of rejection. Somehow in God's game everyone gets chosen. No one is rejected. No one is told, "I don't want you." All get redeemed- and redeemed with something of great worth, according to 1 Peter. Redeemed by something that is incorruptible- the blood. Through the rejection of Jesus we are accepted.
In Psalm 3 David says that the Lord is a Shield protecting him, His glory, and the lifter of his head. Now I don't understand the glory part- as much as I've studied it and tried and tried to understand. I partially understand the shield part- that the Lord protects us, even though this does not mean that danger does not come our way, or that we will always be spared from pain, but the lifter of the head- this part is really cool. Back in David's time beggars would sit outside the gate and beg from the people as they entered the city. But if someone came over to them, and lifted their head, it was symbolic that that person would take care of them for the rest of their life- they would no longer have to beg. Here David is saying, "You, God, have pulled me from my status as a beggar, and have promised to take care of me. You are my glory, you protect me, and you provide for me." In essence, "You have told me that I have worth."
In Ez. 16 there is also one of the craziest allegories of the Bible (in my humble opinion). God tells Israel that they are like a baby who has been thrown into the field and is wallowing in its own blood, because no one wanted it. Through the story God fulfills many different roles in this child's life- provider, comforter, and eventually husband. God finds the discarded child in a field and tells her that she has worth.
How interesting it is that the cuts of rejection are often some of the deepest, and yet the threads of redemption are what hold together the gospel message.
I have been thinking about this rejection idea a lot in my life not only here lately, but off and on for the past year. It absolutely astonishes me how much it hurts, and how damaging it can be to my future-- making me do these weird things and behave in bizarre ways-- all because I have once been told either in word or deed, "I don't want you."
Even now, as I write those words, they burn my eyes to read them.
There are times when people can reject us without intentionally meaning to hurt, even. Isn't rejection inherent in choice? When someone is choosing a best friend, a mate, the captain of the quiz bowl team, who to give the secret password to, isn't the value in that choice (if you are the one chosen) that you were selected, above others? Everyone can't be chosen. Some get told, "I don't want you".
But it wasn't until the other night that I was sitting in the dark trying to sleep, that I think I caught a new glimpse of this idea of redemption- in the light of rejection. Somehow in God's game everyone gets chosen. No one is rejected. No one is told, "I don't want you." All get redeemed- and redeemed with something of great worth, according to 1 Peter. Redeemed by something that is incorruptible- the blood. Through the rejection of Jesus we are accepted.
In Psalm 3 David says that the Lord is a Shield protecting him, His glory, and the lifter of his head. Now I don't understand the glory part- as much as I've studied it and tried and tried to understand. I partially understand the shield part- that the Lord protects us, even though this does not mean that danger does not come our way, or that we will always be spared from pain, but the lifter of the head- this part is really cool. Back in David's time beggars would sit outside the gate and beg from the people as they entered the city. But if someone came over to them, and lifted their head, it was symbolic that that person would take care of them for the rest of their life- they would no longer have to beg. Here David is saying, "You, God, have pulled me from my status as a beggar, and have promised to take care of me. You are my glory, you protect me, and you provide for me." In essence, "You have told me that I have worth."
In Ez. 16 there is also one of the craziest allegories of the Bible (in my humble opinion). God tells Israel that they are like a baby who has been thrown into the field and is wallowing in its own blood, because no one wanted it. Through the story God fulfills many different roles in this child's life- provider, comforter, and eventually husband. God finds the discarded child in a field and tells her that she has worth.
How interesting it is that the cuts of rejection are often some of the deepest, and yet the threads of redemption are what hold together the gospel message.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
I'm going to PUMP you up
So I'm thinking about what gym I want to join when I move to Birmingham. I think that I found one!
Read about it here.
Work out and be holy all at once. Who could ask for more. Can these people be serious?
Read about it here.
Work out and be holy all at once. Who could ask for more. Can these people be serious?
What's so amazing....
As I was consuming my oatmeal and coffee this morning... breakfast of champions... in between trying to keep the cat's face out of my food I was looking through the book, What's so amazing about Grace... the picture book by Philip Yancy. Some of you may have read the book book, but the picture book, I think, is so much more powerful. As I was looking at it I was thinking about getting it for someone I really love, but realized there was a lot of hesitation there. My Pharisaical deprived mind quickly started thinking, "She knows too much about grace. I need a book called 'What's so amazing about the LAW to give her." Is Andrew Peterson right? Has the church really become nothing more than the second coming of the Pharasees? Have I searched the scriptures day and night and think that I can find life in them?
And yet refuse to come to Jesus?
Jesus was crazy. He wasn't pretty and pristine and he never made sense. Does he today?
And yet refuse to come to Jesus?
Jesus was crazy. He wasn't pretty and pristine and he never made sense. Does he today?
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Sofia
I have mulled over the idea of a blog for a while. When I was in China I found that it was very cathartic to get my ideas out there...and it usually made me a better writer... and observer... when I was writing and observing. Imagine that. But I had not thought about the impending necessity of starting a blog: Naming it. It's like naming a child. Of course it's going to have meaning and of course you want to be creative. So my dear child, blogette, is named Sofia. This is thanks to Steph. Steph, who named her girl's program at Sagemont a couple of summers ago Sofia (which means wisdom in Hebrew), reminding me that so many times my life would be so much easier if I would just shut up and ask for wisdom.
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