Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Jesus In My Heart

"I believe that many who find that 'nothing happens' when they sit down, or kneel down, to a book of devotion, would find that the heart sings unbidden while they are working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand."  ~ C.S. Lewis
Yeah.  This.  It's so hard to explain to people sometimes, the richness, and the spirituality, that I find in the intellectual life.  I think others think it's strange that reading Athanasius or Lewis or Ratzinger or Luther or Moltmann or Augustine can bring me to tears, and to a greater love of God, than an hour of prayer.  Or "official prayer", as I like to call it.  Because working my way through a "tough bit of theology" ends up being a form of prayer for me.  Is it the same as morning and evening devotions, moments of spontaneous prayer during the day, or corporate prayer during worship?  Of course not.  Those are all different, and I need all of them.

But for some reason or another, God has wired me up in a way that the way to my heart is through my brain.  I've struggled against that for a while, because it's "not supposed to work like that."  There seems to have developed in modern Protestantism (and possibly the RCC and EO, although I don't know for sure) this dichotomy between "head knowledge" and "heart knowledge", and the preeminent question well-meaning evangelists want to know is whether you know Jesus in your heart, and not just your head.   To a certain extent, this is fair.  Doctrine doesn't save us, Jesus does. 

But there are a few of us for whom "head knowledge" leads to "heart knowledge".  As I've thought about this more in recent months, I've been reflecting on the fact that, although I grew up in the church - there every Sunday unless you're on your deathbed - I never really got to study the faith.  I had parents who had me baptized, taught me to pray, memorized Scripture with me, explained atonement theology in language a 4-year-old can understand (when you cut your finger on the side of the can, you have to let it bleed a little so it will wash the germs out, just like Jesus' blood on the Cross washes our sins out), and so on.  But when I got to college and had to take actual theology classes and actually read the Bible and other theological works and think about them and talk about them and process them that I somehow actually started believing - like, actually, really believing - all the stuff I was taught as a kid.

It's when I'm reading and pondering and processing and bouncing stuff off others and playing and writing that I can almost literally feel myself growing closer to God.  Again, that sounds strange, I know.  And I don't always like talking about it, because people tend to look at me like, "Um...yeah..."  But such is life.  I'm learning from dear friends lately - some who are wired similarly, and some who are wired quite differently - that this is okay.  It's God's gift to me that I can grow close to Him in this way, and while I have to be careful that I don't fail to "translate" it for others, it's a good and beautiful thing.

Praise the Lord! 

Sign. Me. Up.

I love love love the domestic life.  Even though I don't get to do it very often, the opportunities I have to wash dishes and do laundry and oversee homework and get kids ready for bed make my heart sing with joy. 

I was babysitting tonight for some friends who have three kids in elementary/middle school.  I met the younger two when they got off the bus, gave them some time to unwind from school, inquired as to the status of homework, and then headed out to pick up their brother from middle school football.  Waiting in the parking lot, I started working my way through Moltmann's The Crucified God for class on Thursday.  When the kiddo had at last collected all his books, clothing, and supplies, and said goodbye to all his friends, he climbed in the car and I put away Moltmann.  On the drive home we talked about school and field trips and underappreciated defensive tackles.   Back at the house, I set the kids to clearing off and setting the dining room table, while I got supper (frozen pizza) ready.  (Side note: gas stoves terrify me.  I always think I'm doing them wrong and that I'm going to kill us all...)  When everything was ready we sat down to dinner, and then the kids cleared their plates and unloaded the dishwasher.  While they busied themselves with homework, musical instrument practice, and TV, I washed all the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen and dining area.  Then I worked on my own homework (Moltmann!!) for a while, until it was time for the youngest to get ready for bed.  We cuddled in bed ("I like being babysitted!") and read Happy Haunting, Amelia Bedelia.  Back to Moltmann (extremely interesting, but seriously, 75 pages of him is kind of a lot to work through and take in), enforcing the "20 mins of music practice required" rule, and following up on homework.  Eventually the kids' mom got home and I headed back to the dorms to...you guessed it...read Moltmann...

Anyway.  Phenomenal day.  Utterly fantastic.  Call me crazy, but when I'm doing these kinds of things, I feel like I'm doing what I was made to do.  I feel happy and good and productive and self-confident and loving and loved. 

It's so hard to say that, though, because it's so...deserting the sisterhood, or something.  It's just not what women in the 21st century are supposed to say, and it's certainly not what they're supposed to feel.  And the more I tell God to please show me what I'm supposed to be doing, and to make His desires for me become my desires for me, the more I feel like this.  So, there's that.  Which is good.  But I'm also struggling to believe God's promises for me, that He will grant me the desires of my heart, that He's not just letting me feel this way now and then planning to snatch it all away from me later....Wow, I sound like a) a terribly faithless person, and b) a total heretic/blasphemer.  I don't mean to.  I'm just lacking for encouragement right now, and I don't really know why or where it's coming from, but I'd like it to stop, please.

But back to the goodness.  It's rare that a person gets to have two - count 'em, two - freaking phenomenally fantastic days inside of a week.  But I have.  And I love it.  Mmm...yay God.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Can I Get An AMEN?!?

"Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered.  "No one is good but God alone."  ~ Mark 10:18

Indeed.

That is all.