Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Why we read, and why we read what we read

Sound familiar, Torrey students?

As I was struggling through Brothers Karamozov today with the sort of low concentration levels that usually only come with lack of sleep and a distracting roommate, I started wondering why we read. At all. What's the point of spending 30-40 hours on a book? (Somewhere in there is the time it took me to finish Anna Karenina.) Ironically, the answer to my question came from the very book that caused me to wonder.

" ...young men do not understand that the sacrifice of life is, perhaps, the easiest of all sacrifices in many cases, while to sacrifice, for example, five or six years of their ebulliently youthful life to hard, difficult studies, to learning, in order to increase tenfold their strength to serve the very truth and the very deed they loved and set out to accomplish - such sacrifice is quite often almost beyond the strength of many of them."

The sacrifice of time and energy that my reading requires is often almost beyond my strength. But I have always kept at it, because I knew it was important somehow. But why? I realized after reading the passage above: we read that we might better serve the truth. For all people, Christian or otherwise, their goal should be to learn, understand, and apply the truth to their life.

There is so much more to this quest for the truth, but for the moment I offer it simply as the answer to why we read. We read to seek the truth, and we read what we read because it is the best way to find the truth.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

One Word

Just a day or so ago I stumbled upon an interesting site... stumbleupon.com. While it has its faults, I have found some really neat things through it. While searching under the topic of writing, I stumbled upon a little site called oneword.com. It's very simple: every day it feeds you a word, and you have 60 seconds to write the first thing that comes to mind. It's brilliant - a fast, easy and painless writing exercise that forces you to jump right into your idea and tell it fast. I generally don't work well under pressure, particularly when it comes to writing, so this is the perfect tool to get me used to writing with a time limit. Also, it doesn't allow for rambling (which I'm prone to). I'm really excited to be using it. Here's my very first try:


Edition

It was the first edition. He couldn’t believe it. Years of searching, traveling the world… His fingers went to it, slowly, hesitantly. Should he dare touch it? It was a dream… so fragile it might shatter with that first touch, along with everything he had ever hoped for.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Writing: Fact #1

If you sit in a dark closet long enough, you'll think of something.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Rest (By Faith)

In my walk with God, I've learned that I hear him best through observing patterns in my life that are too blatant to be ignored and coincidences too incredible to be accidental. Looking back on the past few days, I saw that this had happened yet again.

For a very long time, I have found it hard to truly rest. My dad and I were talking about it last night, and I realized that I don't even know of one thing in my life that fully rejuvenates me. I have forgotten, or never understood, the meaning of recreation. That is, re-creation. I need to find ways to be created afresh. The reason I have been unable to is because I put so much pressure on myself to do well in every activity. My stress stems from a desire to be great. That in itself is not necessarily a malign desire, but it is based upon a lack of trust in God and his plan for my life. Faith is putting your trust in someone, and so it is only by faith that I will find rest.

God has been trying to tell me this for the past several days, and undoubtedly beyond that. I have continued my reading of my father's book, and while I have been enjoying it, I realized today that I have not really been paying attention to what it is saying. The messages of the book marry into God's voice, trying to speak to me. God is always thinking about me, I will never be forsaken, I can give God all my worries, God is being good to me in all situations. If I had heeded these messages, I might have understood the way towards peace, but I did not.

I ended up breaking down in the middle of the park, in the middle of vacation, in the middle of break, in the middle of all good things that should lead to joy. As usual, I only saw the truth after hitting rock bottom. Today, I read in my dad's book about Hebrews 11, the chapter which is often entitled "By Faith". I know now that I was right in my thoughts last night about the necessity of trusting God. What's funny is I accidentally skipped a chapter ahead in the book, so I shouldn't have read that till tomorrow. But it's no coincidence that I opened to the wrong page, because it wasn't the wrong page. It was the right page at the right time.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

The Road to Yosemite, January 2nd

This day has gone on for two days,
never sleeping. Wide open eyes
watch the time traipse round the room
until it's time. The start didn't stop at the end
of yesterday, but I begin it all again today.

Rising with the sunrise, I stuff
afterthoughts into my backpack
and get the dog. I load us into the car,
in the back behind my parents,
like extra luggage. We're just as quiet.

We drive, but first we break for bagels.
The men in the shop smile and joke,
one mentions the New Year.
I feel that they too know this
first day stretched into two.
It's a new beginning, an early morning
early in the year that came just in time.
We all need a clean slate.

We hit the road again.
The sky, sensing the change, opens up
like an opportunity, a door of dreams.

My parents go over groceries in the front,
the meaningless dialogue of happy people
that means everything. I listen to their voices
without the words, leaning into my pillow.
At last, I am ready for rest. The last sight
before I close my eyes is a gray sky
stretching on like this day that's never put to bed,
even when, with a blanket over my head,
I sleep.

I wake to a whirlwind of tumbleweeds
tossing, blundering, rolling down the road.
Dad brakes and swerves to evade them.
I look out the front window at the windstorm
and see a video game where we loose our last life
if we crash, and I just laugh.

I drift into a doze.

I'm roused from my repose to rain.
It paints us human Dalmations,
drops dotting our clothes as we run
into a fast food place for lunch.
The downpour continues as we drive
carefully through the highway spray.
I have a vague view of vineyards
through the tears falling sideways
across my window until, with
my still veiled vision, I mistake
the mountains and the mist.

I know we have reached them as the road
winds high and the rain turns to snow.
They say to us that we need chains
and Dad battles the wet and cold
while we, the women (and dog), sit still.
I feel useless as we watch him struggle;
chivalry is so strange. Finally he succeeds
and we make our cautious way upward.

As though through an unseen door,
a railway platform or an old wardrobe,
we pass on into a magical world.
Snowflakes falling soft strengthen
and band together to build up banks
of white wonder beside the road.
Trees towering tall like lovely ladies
are wearing a wardrobe of spun silk
and diamonds, small like sparkling sand.

Down this road our cabin awaits us
like an old friend, squat and stoic, familiar.
Like a sigh, it lightens the weight of worry.
Even though the wooden walls hold a surprise -
the power is down -we don't mind the dark.
We set a fire in the hearth and settle down
together around its warmth.
We are happy here.

I fall asleep surrounded by family
in front of a flickering fire,
and at last the long first day
ends.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Truth and Light

Seven years ago my father wrote a book called Truth and Light. Until this day, I had not read past the dedication. This had always been a regret of mine, but I never bothered to do anything about it besides feeling appropriately guilty. Now that I have finally gotten beyond those words penned on the inside of the cover to the printed text, I realize two things. Number one: the time I spent berating myself for being a bad daughter was a complete waste because number two: "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." (Ecclesiastes 3:1) and number three: God has impeccable timing. Below is the dedication my father wrote to me, dated September of 2003.
"To my Rachel,
You are so special to me and I love being your Daddy! I hope this book helps you learn more about how much God loves you.
I love you with all of my heart,
Daddy" 
Seven years ago my father wrote me a dedication, not knowing how much I would need to hear those words as an 18-year-old at the verge of a new year and at the end of her wits. Since the beginning of my break from school (though the history of the issue runs much farther back), I have been struggling to define my priorities. I have many, many goals which, coupled with an unfortunate desire to see them all come to fruition immediately, leads inevitably to failure, lack of sleep, irritability, and low self esteem. I often find myself swept up in the whirlwind spirit of the age which is "Hurry, hurry, hurry! You'll sleep when you're dead!" This happened to me yet again when I looked out at the six-week expanse of free time ahead of me and immediately began planning productivity. In my ambition, I forgot the necessity of rest and my total dependence on God. I cannot believe it is mere coincidence, then, when the introduction of book I've been meaning to read for seven years speaks directly to these issues.
"We are able to communicate, travel, be entertained, receive and manage information in ways only dreamed of a few years ago. This flood of options and information creates complexity. We must choose from a growing number of possibilities and it is expected that we will make those choices faster so that we can 'keep up' and not 'fall behind.' But this assumes people can continue to make more decisions in less time, and yet not sacrifice the quality of their decisions and therefore the quality of the outcomes. It's in the nature of things that this kind of scenario will result in confusion, frustration and anger. Since depression is anger turned inward, is it any wonder in a time of unprecedented wealth, luxury and options for the 'common man' that depression is the curse of our age?  People in our culture increasingly resemble a child's pet hamster that runs madly on its wheel but gets nowhere."
 -Gregg Harris, Truth and Light
 This paragraph describes exactly everything I've been going through these past few weeks and everything I've been battling these past few years. I continued on to read the first chapter, and found the book again addressing my struggles. The chapter speaks of the absolute truth of God's love for me. Like a thirsty traveler who comes upon a spring in the desert, I was amazed upon finding these words of affirmation during a time of deep self-doubt. "If the God of the universe cares enough to write each of your days into his book before you draw your first breath, then your life is filled with meaning." Lately I've begun to question everything in my life, feeling hopelessly lost and wondering what my purpose is and where I'm headed. This statement, grounded in Psalm 139:16, was an assurance that God has a unique and wonderful plan - not just for the world - but for my life. If there's one thing I've learned from a semester of Torrey, it's that context matters. I decided to read Psalm 139 to be sure I was hearing God's words and not just the words of the book.
"You have searched me, LORD,
   and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
   you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
   you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
   you, LORD, know it completely.
5 You hem me in behind and before,
   and you lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
   too lofty for me to attain.

 7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
   Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
   if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
   if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
   your right hand will hold me fast.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
   and the light become night around me,”
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
   the night will shine like the day,
   for darkness is as light to you.

 13 For you created my inmost being;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
   your works are wonderful,
   I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
   when I was made in the secret place,
   when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
   all the days ordained for me were written in your book
   before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
   How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them,
   they would outnumber the grains of sand—
   when I awake, I am still with you.

 19 If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
   Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
20 They speak of you with evil intent;
   your adversaries misuse your name.
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, LORD,
   and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
22 I have nothing but hatred for them;
   I count them my enemies.
23 Search me, God, and know my heart;
   test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
   and lead me in the way everlasting."
As I read, I began to cry, for every word spoke directly to my troubles. Verses 1-6 told me that God knows me deeply and is always watching me because he cares. 7-12 confirmed what I have already learned from experience: that I cannot hide from God, and even in my disobedience he is guiding me. 13-15 told me that I am a beautiful creation, something I needed desperately to hear. 16 told me that I have a purpose in God. 17-18 were a statement of truth and a reminder to always be listening for God's voice, because I am ever in his presence. 19-24 showed me the meaning of true obedience so that I might make it my desire for this next year and the rest of my life.

This Psalm, along with everything I read tonight, was a testament to my worth in God's eyes, and proof of his faithfulness. It cut to my core like a double-edged sword, a wonderful and welcome wound. I find healing through my pain as I begin to see the truth and the light.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Digging

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

Under my window a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade,
Just like his old man.

My grandfather could cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, digging down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.

-Seamus Heaney