What with it being the start of December I am tempted to say: "what happened to the last 6 months?" The first half went crazy slow but since about mid-June it has whizzed by in a blur. Not a particularly nice blur but I suppose if it's hard you want it to hurry out of the way. However, I will do no 'reviewing the year' until the actual end.
I started this post yesterday and filled it up with loads of babble and excuses about things I wasn’t going to say. Then I found a point and decided that, in my new incarnation as Editor, I would cut the crap and deliver.
It started when I put on my ipod – to block out the sound of inane Starbucks babble – and 'All good things come to an end'(link) by Nelly Furtado came on.
This year, with all its horror that I praise God for (sometimes joyfully, sometimes begrudgingly, sometimes blatantly failingly) I still see Good things (and by Good I mean the kind that I can appreciate as good and not just take on faith) that have happened. And lots of those have come, or are coming, to an end. I suppose friendship and community and what my life in Bristol is about are all obvious examples. I’m writing in Starbucks Borders - my city centre living room/office with so much history and familiarity - and it is closing in as little as 2 weeks. One less piece of contact with the world as I knew it. So much ending. I have been in semi-stasis these past couple of months but actually a lot is now properly finishing. For good. Finito. Or at least, I am at last noticing it clearly.
I find myself asking all sorts of question, for example: what is the fate of this blog when I spend most of my new life writing other things; when I have an aspiration to pursue actual “careers”; when I get bored and restless 'cause I have a terrible attention span and can be quite fickle with where I give my heart to? I'm not saying I’m quitting again, just thinking out loud.
But as I started 'Analogise That!' with a post about life from death(link), then very soon saw a whole lot of death - both the negativity of "death" in circumstances and the real deal - I have come to see that endings really are a part of life. But not the end of life, because all the good that comes as a result is real and apparent and full of redemption. Like my ‘Cat of Redemption’(link), who has gone from hiding out on our neighbour's shed roof to being the most affectionate darling creature ever.
[Aside: I learned a new word – ‘Bathos’ – and it means the ‘unintentional lapse in mood from the sublime to the trivial or ridiculous’. It is just me or is this blog sometimes a bit like that? Not that I think it matters. In fact, I kinda think that’s the point…]
I fully don't know what is coming next today, this month, in 2010 and beyond... but I know that for all the things that finish there will be something of life that springs from it; something bigger and better. Which does remind me of this thing Jesus said once:
"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels—a plentiful harvest of new lives." John 12:24 (NLT)
Plus, if you believe his death leads to our redemption, it is an even greater (nay greatest) example of the idea that every time something dies, something better comes along and the world ends up being better overall; ever-increasing in glory.
‘The good being the enemy of the best’ is a philosophy I hold strongly to. It has to be when I have so many choices available to me. One thing I've learned this year is that I can cope with the Goods dying if the Best is the end result.
So I suppose these changes, this ending and even the despair that 2009 contained can all be chalked up to a plentiful harvest of new life. That's a faith thing. But a true thing as well... says Kat(i)e in her latest incarnation...
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Stuck... in... traffic... and some songs from some Jacks
This analogy has been far too long in the making. It will be published tonight.
The lack of completion is itself symptomatic of where I have been "at": stuck in a traffic jam.
My past year (if not 23) has been pretty intense. The running theme, which were you a regular reader you would not have been able to avoid, is refinement: fire & purification; my weakness => His strength... and all that jazz. Seeing hope despite hate has been pretty key too, in fact most of Analogise That! seems to be about belligerent optimism in the face of despair.
Then lately, which I haven't really shared - a combination of being away and also being too tired and miserable to write - I have felt like I dropped below the hope threshold. Jack Johnson said I didn't always have to hold my head higher than my heart (link) and I glad I got his permission because I really haven't been. I've no longer had capacity to "dance on" (link) and worryingly far from feeling like God is making up for it. (That said, my trip to Russia was a crazy example of God being bigger than me, emphasized in particular by me being so tiny I could not even see it... but more another time). My last post was indicative of this (or tried t0 be) as I shared my lack of certainty in what I was seeing or believing. What was perhaps even more telling was the way I wrote in a sort of confusing and messy way! The fact is, my resources are low. I have nothing left to give and it has left me a *little* out of sorts.
The lesson, which I can so easily hear but no so easily apply, is one that says physical well-being is a really key part of emotional and spiritual health. After burning the candle at both ends for so long it is time to stop. STOP. There is a bible story about this dude called Elijah who had an amazing time seeing God at work (see here in 1 Kings 18 (link)) then, next thing you know, he is running afraid for his life and wants to die (check out 1 Kings 19 (link) if you fancy it)...
A moment for an aside about wanting to die: There's this new song by Just Jack (link) that I am still processing - lovely or not? I think it rather depends on if you watch the video but I know that like Elijah, and Paul (link), death doesn't at all feel like the worst thing that could happen to me these days. Suppose it depends on what death means to oneself. Anyway, back to the story...
So he falls asleep under a tree before an angel comes and feeds him, whereupon he sleeps and eats again. Following this he gets just enough energy to go hide in a cave, at which point he sleeps again. Now I know I've had angels looking after me, particularly when I was away (I'll write about that another time perhaps but I read a cool blog about angels (link) once, by a friend of a friend, if you're interested) and I sure as hell know I need to do a lot of eating and sleeping at the moment (where possible I've been getting up to have breakfast then going straight back to bed again - oh happy day!) and that, having barely gotten through some intense journeys, it is now time to hide in my cave and wait for it to be over.
God really spoke to me about this "low point" when I was stuck on the M25 for over 2 hours the week before last, in a traffic jam on my way back to Bristol. It was all about waiting for the wreckage to clear. Not just being patient but to be really making the most of the break... and to recognise that I was So Tired I was nearly asleep and it was probably better that I wasn't going faster than an intermittent 20mph. Enough risks have been taken so stop already. After 2 weeks of processing I can see that I am supposed to be in the queue and that the best way to live a life that feels like it's affected by metaphorical crashing is to not stress but rather accept the situation and get what I can from it. Turn up the radio, shut my eyes, then maybe read a book if I feel more awake and make eye contact with the cute passing motorist(s)! As with the traffic, I have a propensity to start off frustrated and willing it to stop but in time accepting and, following a change of perspective, beginning to appreciate the change of pace and lack of purposeful direction. Take advantage of the blockages, they may well be from an angel.
A good friend wrote a blog recently that was ironically opposite to this. I ain't gonna be passive aggressive, upfront I tells ya that it was annoyingly soppy about a road trip he was taking with his fab new gf! But I know really that it's cool to appreciate the good things in other people's lives and now I have had some sleep all cynicism has passed so I am once again happy for them and just loving the appropriateness of the metaphor that part of his "journey" was going on a journey :-) My "journey" is not the same but it's not supposed to be actually. Last time I tried to "accelerate home" I ended up overshooting by 7 junctions (link) and having to do a direct and humbling retrace. Whoops. Next time I'm not speeding anywhere till I have paid a lot more attention to the destination.
So I've been in recuperation mode, to the point that on Monday my dear mother came all the way to Bristol on the bus to drive me home in my own car. Bless her. Back in my cave with just enough energy to make it and be thoroughly attended by angelic(ish) hosts!
.
.
.
All this said, I accepted a job yesterday that starts in a month! The 1st of August is suddenly upon us and I realise I need to get my life sorted out now so that things don't go horribly wrong when I enter the real world! It seems that the traffic is slightly starting to clear and the next stage of my journey, whatever that involves, looms. I feel able to blog again as I get into a slightly more even flow... and having only just gotten used to the stop/start motion. Better make the most of still being quite slow I suddenly see, knowing just how quickly a road can clear...
I leave you on some FUNNY (link): the horrors of traffic, the lust for other people's failures. It's a shame in a way that he's so close to real life but hey, at least we know the truth about jams :o)
The lack of completion is itself symptomatic of where I have been "at": stuck in a traffic jam.
My past year (if not 23) has been pretty intense. The running theme, which were you a regular reader you would not have been able to avoid, is refinement: fire & purification; my weakness => His strength... and all that jazz. Seeing hope despite hate has been pretty key too, in fact most of Analogise That! seems to be about belligerent optimism in the face of despair.
Then lately, which I haven't really shared - a combination of being away and also being too tired and miserable to write - I have felt like I dropped below the hope threshold. Jack Johnson said I didn't always have to hold my head higher than my heart (link) and I glad I got his permission because I really haven't been. I've no longer had capacity to "dance on" (link) and worryingly far from feeling like God is making up for it. (That said, my trip to Russia was a crazy example of God being bigger than me, emphasized in particular by me being so tiny I could not even see it... but more another time). My last post was indicative of this (or tried t0 be) as I shared my lack of certainty in what I was seeing or believing. What was perhaps even more telling was the way I wrote in a sort of confusing and messy way! The fact is, my resources are low. I have nothing left to give and it has left me a *little* out of sorts.
The lesson, which I can so easily hear but no so easily apply, is one that says physical well-being is a really key part of emotional and spiritual health. After burning the candle at both ends for so long it is time to stop. STOP. There is a bible story about this dude called Elijah who had an amazing time seeing God at work (see here in 1 Kings 18 (link)) then, next thing you know, he is running afraid for his life and wants to die (check out 1 Kings 19 (link) if you fancy it)...
A moment for an aside about wanting to die: There's this new song by Just Jack (link) that I am still processing - lovely or not? I think it rather depends on if you watch the video but I know that like Elijah, and Paul (link), death doesn't at all feel like the worst thing that could happen to me these days. Suppose it depends on what death means to oneself. Anyway, back to the story...
So he falls asleep under a tree before an angel comes and feeds him, whereupon he sleeps and eats again. Following this he gets just enough energy to go hide in a cave, at which point he sleeps again. Now I know I've had angels looking after me, particularly when I was away (I'll write about that another time perhaps but I read a cool blog about angels (link) once, by a friend of a friend, if you're interested) and I sure as hell know I need to do a lot of eating and sleeping at the moment (where possible I've been getting up to have breakfast then going straight back to bed again - oh happy day!) and that, having barely gotten through some intense journeys, it is now time to hide in my cave and wait for it to be over.
God really spoke to me about this "low point" when I was stuck on the M25 for over 2 hours the week before last, in a traffic jam on my way back to Bristol. It was all about waiting for the wreckage to clear. Not just being patient but to be really making the most of the break... and to recognise that I was So Tired I was nearly asleep and it was probably better that I wasn't going faster than an intermittent 20mph. Enough risks have been taken so stop already. After 2 weeks of processing I can see that I am supposed to be in the queue and that the best way to live a life that feels like it's affected by metaphorical crashing is to not stress but rather accept the situation and get what I can from it. Turn up the radio, shut my eyes, then maybe read a book if I feel more awake and make eye contact with the cute passing motorist(s)! As with the traffic, I have a propensity to start off frustrated and willing it to stop but in time accepting and, following a change of perspective, beginning to appreciate the change of pace and lack of purposeful direction. Take advantage of the blockages, they may well be from an angel.
A good friend wrote a blog recently that was ironically opposite to this. I ain't gonna be passive aggressive, upfront I tells ya that it was annoyingly soppy about a road trip he was taking with his fab new gf! But I know really that it's cool to appreciate the good things in other people's lives and now I have had some sleep all cynicism has passed so I am once again happy for them and just loving the appropriateness of the metaphor that part of his "journey" was going on a journey :-) My "journey" is not the same but it's not supposed to be actually. Last time I tried to "accelerate home" I ended up overshooting by 7 junctions (link) and having to do a direct and humbling retrace. Whoops. Next time I'm not speeding anywhere till I have paid a lot more attention to the destination.
So I've been in recuperation mode, to the point that on Monday my dear mother came all the way to Bristol on the bus to drive me home in my own car. Bless her. Back in my cave with just enough energy to make it and be thoroughly attended by angelic(ish) hosts!
.
.
.
All this said, I accepted a job yesterday that starts in a month! The 1st of August is suddenly upon us and I realise I need to get my life sorted out now so that things don't go horribly wrong when I enter the real world! It seems that the traffic is slightly starting to clear and the next stage of my journey, whatever that involves, looms. I feel able to blog again as I get into a slightly more even flow... and having only just gotten used to the stop/start motion. Better make the most of still being quite slow I suddenly see, knowing just how quickly a road can clear...
I leave you on some FUNNY (link): the horrors of traffic, the lust for other people's failures. It's a shame in a way that he's so close to real life but hey, at least we know the truth about jams :o)
Saturday, June 6, 2009
The Cat of Redemption
I'm in London for one night only (well, probably two now actually, extended by popular demand) to visit some friends who were passing through, raid the folk's fridge and do my laundry. It's thus far proven successful on the first two accounts already and I only arrived last night.
When I got in about 11pm I saw my cat Tilly standing in the hallway. She is a shy thing, all black and half feral, who had only slightly begun to be sociable just before we got our psychotic dog four years ago. Since then her feral side had come out in full force as she spent all her time in the neighbour's shed, only coming in to eat and skulking round the house on person alert if it was cold outside. Yesterday she stood there for ages and looked at me.
The first thing I though was how lovely it was to see her there, sort of greeting me.
The second thing I thought was how very sad that the reason she was is that my psychotic dog got put down since I was last here (see this link), for (not surprisingly) being psychotic. At the time it was an analogy for things going horribly wrong in the world from the bad choices people make (though I didn't mean Wendy necessarily had a choice... but people do, however small it seems). Since that post I have experienced close at hand a shocking real example of this (see this link if you don't know what I mean but be prepared for sadness). I said no analogy befitted it but, since I really do believe in the premise of my blog that everything points towards something bigger, this tragedy too has proved to be an analogy for many things. One of which is, it turns out, unexpected life.
Sam's death brought new life. We have seen so much of it in the way communities have rallied round, friendships have deepened and God's comforting presence has been known. One woman I've heard of who turned her back on the idea of God many years ago, after the untimely death of her husband, was so impressed by the way that his parents have reacted that she became a Christian and got baptised last weekend. I acknowledge that this story only means something for Christians but it means a heck of a lot for us. No-one can deny the love that has been grown out of this darkness and, from our perspective, eternal life too. Wow.
Now, it sounds really clinical to say it's worth it. That's because it isn't. The effects of death can't be undone just like that, his family are heartbroken and will grieve for the rest of their lives. Their earthly lives. Yet being a both/and world it also is, even if we can't truly mean that in our hearts now, 'cause Sam isn't really dead. Once we get free from the now there will be no more grieving, and when that woman gets to heaven and meets him oh my will it be beautiful.
Anyway. This is a tricky conversation and I defy anyone to really know how to say that, particularly given half (made up statistic) my readers aren't Christians so won't agree at all. Back to the animals...
I am more of a dog person really and had just spent the evening with three delightful ones at Chris and Katherine's. [Actually, a another redemptive story about a dead dog is that his parent's puppy got tragically killed by a car about 6 months ago and when they did get a new one recently she was already named Grace. Isn't that lovely?] Wendy was magic (when she wasn't psychotic) and nothing can or ever will replace her but I love my cats too and we have three in the house, all of whom are experiencing a new lease of life with the death of a canine. Tilly came up to me in the kitchen this morning and was both scared of and desperate for attention... she let me "smooth" (as the Bristolians would say) her a while before she ran away. I can't wait to see how things will yet change.
[EDIT: She is SO different, even to how she was before the dog. I had a proper cuddle with her this morning for a good few minutes :-D]
The cat of redemption has reminded me that out of all things there can be brought forth good - light after the dark, sunshine after the rain, love after heartbreak, "life" after "death"... Life after Death...
I couldn't find a pic of Tilly quick to hand but this is Kitty and the shot is very cool... Analogise That!
When I got in about 11pm I saw my cat Tilly standing in the hallway. She is a shy thing, all black and half feral, who had only slightly begun to be sociable just before we got our psychotic dog four years ago. Since then her feral side had come out in full force as she spent all her time in the neighbour's shed, only coming in to eat and skulking round the house on person alert if it was cold outside. Yesterday she stood there for ages and looked at me.
The first thing I though was how lovely it was to see her there, sort of greeting me.
The second thing I thought was how very sad that the reason she was is that my psychotic dog got put down since I was last here (see this link), for (not surprisingly) being psychotic. At the time it was an analogy for things going horribly wrong in the world from the bad choices people make (though I didn't mean Wendy necessarily had a choice... but people do, however small it seems). Since that post I have experienced close at hand a shocking real example of this (see this link if you don't know what I mean but be prepared for sadness). I said no analogy befitted it but, since I really do believe in the premise of my blog that everything points towards something bigger, this tragedy too has proved to be an analogy for many things. One of which is, it turns out, unexpected life.
Sam's death brought new life. We have seen so much of it in the way communities have rallied round, friendships have deepened and God's comforting presence has been known. One woman I've heard of who turned her back on the idea of God many years ago, after the untimely death of her husband, was so impressed by the way that his parents have reacted that she became a Christian and got baptised last weekend. I acknowledge that this story only means something for Christians but it means a heck of a lot for us. No-one can deny the love that has been grown out of this darkness and, from our perspective, eternal life too. Wow.
Now, it sounds really clinical to say it's worth it. That's because it isn't. The effects of death can't be undone just like that, his family are heartbroken and will grieve for the rest of their lives. Their earthly lives. Yet being a both/and world it also is, even if we can't truly mean that in our hearts now, 'cause Sam isn't really dead. Once we get free from the now there will be no more grieving, and when that woman gets to heaven and meets him oh my will it be beautiful.
Anyway. This is a tricky conversation and I defy anyone to really know how to say that, particularly given half (made up statistic) my readers aren't Christians so won't agree at all. Back to the animals...
I am more of a dog person really and had just spent the evening with three delightful ones at Chris and Katherine's. [Actually, a another redemptive story about a dead dog is that his parent's puppy got tragically killed by a car about 6 months ago and when they did get a new one recently she was already named Grace. Isn't that lovely?] Wendy was magic (when she wasn't psychotic) and nothing can or ever will replace her but I love my cats too and we have three in the house, all of whom are experiencing a new lease of life with the death of a canine. Tilly came up to me in the kitchen this morning and was both scared of and desperate for attention... she let me "smooth" (as the Bristolians would say) her a while before she ran away. I can't wait to see how things will yet change.
[EDIT: She is SO different, even to how she was before the dog. I had a proper cuddle with her this morning for a good few minutes :-D]
The cat of redemption has reminded me that out of all things there can be brought forth good - light after the dark, sunshine after the rain, love after heartbreak, "life" after "death"... Life after Death...
I couldn't find a pic of Tilly quick to hand but this is Kitty and the shot is very cool... Analogise That!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
OW
I know there is such a thing as blogging too much but I don't care, it is all I can do right now.
Last week on Monday Becca marveled at my cheer. I assured her that I did have the occasional half hour of despondency and she told me that, even so, if I ever actually needed her she would be there. She did not know what she was letting herself in for.
I don't think I have ever actually seen more pain ever in one place. We are not just talking Sam, though that sort of shadows the whole thing. Failed ambitions, broken hearts, lost dreams, yet more death. Everywhere I look. What is going on...?
When I started this blog it was Easter and I wrote about that day and the resurrection of Jesus as a symbol, or analogy, of hope in and potential for fullness of life. This is still true. Yet, well, show me the fullness...
I wasn't wrong to be hopeful like this but I did miss a vital part and that part is Good Friday. The day that represents death. The day of darkness. The day that reminds us of the things in this world that block freedom and life and, to me, shows the need for the substitution of Jesus.
I really really want it to be Sunday now, all the time, but I realise it isn't. Experience speaks for itself that all is not well. Some poeple would tell me I am living in a limiting mindset. I tell them to wait for what comes next if they don't believe me yet. Every day I wake up knowing that the day has something significant to bring and every day I go to bed and am hit by the sadness of what the day did bring. This afternoon I saw hope come to one girl as she dealt with her grief... only to hear a sudden death stole the life of her friend tonight. What is going on? I thought I had it bad. How are we to stand this?
Thing is, I do. I can stand it. I don't get it but I still fervently believe in the true love forever. I think I must be autistic. When love is imperfect our hope might be misplaced. When love is perfect then, by definition, it will not fail us.
If I had to pick a day of the week to be an analogy to life now I think it would be Saturday. Touched on both sides by the dark of Friday and the light of Sunday it is the both/and once more. Moving ever closer to the next day and farther from the one before, but not yet arrived... we have departed though, our destination is certain and it is at least the weekend.
So I sing. 'Dancing in the Moonlight' and 'Dance the Night Away' are pretty helpful. They are cheesy crap but I need that right now. It is Saturday night and the lights are down low. So DANCE. What else to do? I have more vehemency for life. I don't want to be bitter like Wolverine or Inigo Montoya. I have decided to be a musician, or at least actually try. Life is too short for wishful thinking and it seems the best way I know to bring joy. We need joy so so bad. And a soundtrack to dance to.
No, my hope is not stolen yet. Au contraire, it makes me all the more desperate to get away from Friday and see the dawn rising. I think we have to be ready to herald that dawn in and seek the rising sun and the casting away of the shadows. That is where the belief in the brighter future comes from even though we are still painfully aware of the things that happened yesterday.
I don't know how much more darkness will come and I desperately hope that I can stay joyful if it does. Literally anything could happen in the blink of an eye. The world as we know it is changing before our eyes.
Apparently, though, when Pandora opened that box and let evil out into the world, left in the bottom was hope. (No, I haven't confused my religion with ancient mythology.) Fragile though it was, it was there after all the bad stuff attacked.
Every generation sees shi*t happen and they didn't all see the end of the world come. I can't possibly speculate. I don't pretend to. But the phrase "the darkest hour is before the dawn" comes to mind. Time scales are of no consequence. I personally feel I can't cope with much more of this and still keep smiling most of the time but I could be wrong... we will bear what we will bear and the promises of what will come are very good and very real. People are tougher than they think. So what if I've got an injury and may not be able to race at the weekend; and my degree is falling apart before my eyes; and, well, I don't know what will sneak up on me next to try and steal my joy but it has all been having a pretty good go. However, if I can resist long enough it will stop and then the good will come... and it's not just true for me either. It is a little scary as to what may happen next, I admit. Better pray harder. In the end though, we go through hardships (link) now for a kingdom that will not fail or end. That's not just the Bible, it's the very nature of resistance and endurance training - ask any athlete.
Yes, we really still can see the brighter future. I once marveled to myself at how chirpy this blog had turned out and how much the world seemed to be telling me bright, joyful things. Now? I think it is telling me something quite different... but also that, in the valley, good things will come and how, though still dark, the dancing for joy isn't not true.
What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord, who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. When they walk through the Valley of Weeping, it will become a place of refreshing springs. The autumn rains will clothe it with blessings. They will continue to grow stronger, and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.
Psalm 84: 5-7 (link)
Becca and I watched The Princess Bride again tonight. Keeping the vision. Lol, watching our "Perfect Love" in the shape of Westley the Farm Boy more like:
I jest because I don't know what else to do. And because I can. Hey, this is my Jesus, my true love, and I will not "marry another while He lives"... and, well, he sure is perfect... :-P Before we did this we lay on top of my car and watched the night sky and wished upon some stars. Then, well, I thought it was funny - a bloke walked past and in a moment of brilliant quickness I looked up and said:
"This isn't your car is it?"
We laughed for like 5 minutes.
Right here right now OW is a pretty good summary. But then so is WOW. Both/And. The best part is: the bad is fleeting and the good is not. This is why joy has, thus far, survived.
Sorry to be so intense, life just is right now. I wonder if it will ever not be...
Last week on Monday Becca marveled at my cheer. I assured her that I did have the occasional half hour of despondency and she told me that, even so, if I ever actually needed her she would be there. She did not know what she was letting herself in for.
I don't think I have ever actually seen more pain ever in one place. We are not just talking Sam, though that sort of shadows the whole thing. Failed ambitions, broken hearts, lost dreams, yet more death. Everywhere I look. What is going on...?
When I started this blog it was Easter and I wrote about that day and the resurrection of Jesus as a symbol, or analogy, of hope in and potential for fullness of life. This is still true. Yet, well, show me the fullness...
I wasn't wrong to be hopeful like this but I did miss a vital part and that part is Good Friday. The day that represents death. The day of darkness. The day that reminds us of the things in this world that block freedom and life and, to me, shows the need for the substitution of Jesus.
I really really want it to be Sunday now, all the time, but I realise it isn't. Experience speaks for itself that all is not well. Some poeple would tell me I am living in a limiting mindset. I tell them to wait for what comes next if they don't believe me yet. Every day I wake up knowing that the day has something significant to bring and every day I go to bed and am hit by the sadness of what the day did bring. This afternoon I saw hope come to one girl as she dealt with her grief... only to hear a sudden death stole the life of her friend tonight. What is going on? I thought I had it bad. How are we to stand this?
Thing is, I do. I can stand it. I don't get it but I still fervently believe in the true love forever. I think I must be autistic. When love is imperfect our hope might be misplaced. When love is perfect then, by definition, it will not fail us.
If I had to pick a day of the week to be an analogy to life now I think it would be Saturday. Touched on both sides by the dark of Friday and the light of Sunday it is the both/and once more. Moving ever closer to the next day and farther from the one before, but not yet arrived... we have departed though, our destination is certain and it is at least the weekend.
So I sing. 'Dancing in the Moonlight' and 'Dance the Night Away' are pretty helpful. They are cheesy crap but I need that right now. It is Saturday night and the lights are down low. So DANCE. What else to do? I have more vehemency for life. I don't want to be bitter like Wolverine or Inigo Montoya. I have decided to be a musician, or at least actually try. Life is too short for wishful thinking and it seems the best way I know to bring joy. We need joy so so bad. And a soundtrack to dance to.
No, my hope is not stolen yet. Au contraire, it makes me all the more desperate to get away from Friday and see the dawn rising. I think we have to be ready to herald that dawn in and seek the rising sun and the casting away of the shadows. That is where the belief in the brighter future comes from even though we are still painfully aware of the things that happened yesterday.
I don't know how much more darkness will come and I desperately hope that I can stay joyful if it does. Literally anything could happen in the blink of an eye. The world as we know it is changing before our eyes.
Apparently, though, when Pandora opened that box and let evil out into the world, left in the bottom was hope. (No, I haven't confused my religion with ancient mythology.) Fragile though it was, it was there after all the bad stuff attacked.
Every generation sees shi*t happen and they didn't all see the end of the world come. I can't possibly speculate. I don't pretend to. But the phrase "the darkest hour is before the dawn" comes to mind. Time scales are of no consequence. I personally feel I can't cope with much more of this and still keep smiling most of the time but I could be wrong... we will bear what we will bear and the promises of what will come are very good and very real. People are tougher than they think. So what if I've got an injury and may not be able to race at the weekend; and my degree is falling apart before my eyes; and, well, I don't know what will sneak up on me next to try and steal my joy but it has all been having a pretty good go. However, if I can resist long enough it will stop and then the good will come... and it's not just true for me either. It is a little scary as to what may happen next, I admit. Better pray harder. In the end though, we go through hardships (link) now for a kingdom that will not fail or end. That's not just the Bible, it's the very nature of resistance and endurance training - ask any athlete.
Yes, we really still can see the brighter future. I once marveled to myself at how chirpy this blog had turned out and how much the world seemed to be telling me bright, joyful things. Now? I think it is telling me something quite different... but also that, in the valley, good things will come and how, though still dark, the dancing for joy isn't not true.
What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord, who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. When they walk through the Valley of Weeping, it will become a place of refreshing springs. The autumn rains will clothe it with blessings. They will continue to grow stronger, and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.
Psalm 84: 5-7 (link)
Becca and I watched The Princess Bride again tonight. Keeping the vision. Lol, watching our "Perfect Love" in the shape of Westley the Farm Boy more like:
I jest because I don't know what else to do. And because I can. Hey, this is my Jesus, my true love, and I will not "marry another while He lives"... and, well, he sure is perfect... :-P Before we did this we lay on top of my car and watched the night sky and wished upon some stars. Then, well, I thought it was funny - a bloke walked past and in a moment of brilliant quickness I looked up and said:
"This isn't your car is it?"
We laughed for like 5 minutes.
Right here right now OW is a pretty good summary. But then so is WOW. Both/And. The best part is: the bad is fleeting and the good is not. This is why joy has, thus far, survived.
Sorry to be so intense, life just is right now. I wonder if it will ever not be...
Sunday, May 3, 2009
A Death and a Wedding
When Sam, aged 12, died on Friday night I really didn't think this blog would be an appropriate forum to discuss it in. Well at first I didn't so much think at all, it was mostly an emotion of deep sadness. As the waves of grief wash over a person the internal processing is also tidal, and when I did get round to reasoning about it, particularly in the context of my world view, I didn't know how I could possibly reconcile my (still existing) hope and love of life with public expression or enthusiasm. There is distaste and then there is betrayal of dear friends in their terrible loss.
I made two mistakes. The first was an air of flippancy about joy as I blogged before. The second was to think that I must not be joyful now.
On Friday morning I felt like I wanted wanted to write a clarifier in response to my enthusiasm about dancing (link). Since Friday night I have had the fuel for this clarifier but it literally grieves me as to what it took to help me understand.
I find a useful model for experiencing the ups and downs of life in both the Bible and ancient philosophy. 1 Corinthians 4 (link) talks about a church that grieves together and rejoices together whilst Plato (link) too describes this when outlining a "city with the best constitution". We need to be respectful of one another when we see what we are going through but, more than that, community is about truly sharing in each others's lives. This morning at church we grieved corporately. I saw mourning parents, spoke with them, hugged them, cried a little too. It was really real and it was terribly sad and there are no answers.
And I don't think we are supposed to have them. We believe in a God that raises people from the dead but we live in a world where people do die and stay dead. The knowledge that Sam knew Jesus is a huge comfort to those of us who believe that means he is is heaven, but it doesn't stop the tragedy of a young life coming to an end; and expecting good things to be brought from this does not justify the loss. I think perhaps there are sometimes more questions as a Christian than not, because we believe that God knows what will happen and has power over everything. The need to let go and remember our humanity is difficult in the promise that we have the authority of Christ living in us.
So there is Both denial And acceptance of this death. And this is the first of many BOTH/ANDs. God is good... and bad things happen. We are free and empowered to live life in fullness... and life gets taken away. We should be glad for what is out there... and there are nasty things out there trying to get in. Continuing to believe in the best things... and seeing the worst happen. Knowing that Jesus said fullness of life is right here right now if we choose to live in it... but also knowing that He said He's going to one day come back and bring it with Him.
That last one in particular... it fits with my adamancy of late that we have the complete potential to be totally whole and free and living life in all it's fullness, yet with this happening as a sudden stark reminder of the final chapter to come in the story. It is NOW and NOT YET. How can this even be the case?
But it is the case. And as we mourn and are genuinely sad I have also had tons of laughter in the past 24 hours. I was at times so hopeful for what will come from this that I felt guilty... until I randomly met with my pastor in the street at just the right time, had some great sound advice from friends, re-remembered how to cry, then heard a sermon that reminded me I am only finite in my capacity to feel and that people can be both JOYFUL and GRIEVING simultaneously. I saw smiles and laughter at church, even through the tears of his parents. It was only a moment but everywhere and in every way we and life are both/and. [I highly recommend the sermon actually and will put a link up just as soon as it is online. It isn't overt-God, just really helpful ideas about expressing the truth that joy and hope and love is not wrong in the face of this, but that the pain is still real.]
Studying maths I have learned that many things are beyond understanding. If backed into a corner, even the most brilliant of theorists will have to admit that the very foundations of maths are unproven, circular and paradoxical. That is a nightmare and because of it we mathematicians live behind a veil of ignorance (wow I would not be popular in my department if they knew I said that!). The same impossibility applies here. Stuff happens that the actual processes of logic we use to function can't grasp. Life (and counting) does seem to work and go on but the why is totally incomprehensible and that is the point of trust.
One of the problems with the maths is the realm of the infinite. Things just change when we deal with numbers that aren't tangible. There is no more "logic". Sam's death is simply wrong on our finite human scale. When we factor in eternity it doesn't stop our human reasoning from being in pain because we are still human, but it does mean that somehow something is different... even if we are unable to fully grasp it. His six year old brother serenely drew a picture of him going off in a balloon from the rest of the family to a happy place. Kids that age don't have a grasp of the impact of "forever" apparently. I think maybe we are ones the that don't have the grasp. Who knows, perhaps that is the childlike faith we are told to believe in.
It was a steal, not a plan. But in the long, actual long, run, in a way we don't yet get, it is still fullness of life. Not the kind of death (link) that I wrote of before, so we don't mourn like those without hope (link). But we do mourn for now. Yet not too.
To carry on we must remember it is both/and. The sadness of death is true but so is the joy of life and, since the size (or cardinality for a mathematician) of the life far exceeds the size of the death, the net result is still good. In theory at least.
The wedding celebrated in our church on Saturday reminds us of this joy. A wedding, like the one Jesus gives (as mentioned a couple of posts ago (link)) as an analogy for the union of us with Him when He returns for good. The picture of perfect love, intimacy and joyful celebration for ever. We are still to hope for that and remember that it is coming in entirety one day...
Another thing we did yesterday was take part in a social action project, blessing the very community (I actually drove past the spot) in which the hit and run took place. Sharing love potentially, and definitely symbolically, with the drunk driver responsible. I was group leading with some children that day who are Sam's age and younger. They can't help but be joyful it seems. As we were driving along they started shouting excitedly out the window and, after a conversation about sensitivity to different people's beliefs, the little girl next to me began calling:
"Welcome to the future!"
When we got to lunch, for some unknown (possibly unknowable?!) reason there was a camp man playing a white custom-made fancy electric organ (with "Byron Jones The Welsh Wizard" written on the front) there, practising for a hymn concert that evening. Amidst the tunes he suddenly blasted out "Dancing Queen" and we all had a sing-a-long.
It IS the future, it IS dancing... and it is still a little bit now and sometimes crap with a capital 'C' too.
Fullness of life isn't always about merriment. My enthusiasm before was concerned with counteracting apathy and cynicism, not about grief in the things that genuinely demonstrate a lack of life. Yet the constant, all-pervading, joy is still a valid notion when considered in relation to the future hope; it just doesn't always look like dancing. (Though it still can do too.) Bitter-sweet.
The Bible says that the Kingdom of God (Christian lingo for total fullness of life (a necessary tautology I now realise)) belongs to those such as the children. It also says that death has lost its sting. We do still feel the bitter puncture wound right here right now but in heaven today, and forever more, Sam is dancing (well most probably playing football actually)... and he is gonna get better and better at it for ever and ever. That is just sweet.
I made two mistakes. The first was an air of flippancy about joy as I blogged before. The second was to think that I must not be joyful now.
On Friday morning I felt like I wanted wanted to write a clarifier in response to my enthusiasm about dancing (link). Since Friday night I have had the fuel for this clarifier but it literally grieves me as to what it took to help me understand.
I find a useful model for experiencing the ups and downs of life in both the Bible and ancient philosophy. 1 Corinthians 4 (link) talks about a church that grieves together and rejoices together whilst Plato (link) too describes this when outlining a "city with the best constitution". We need to be respectful of one another when we see what we are going through but, more than that, community is about truly sharing in each others's lives. This morning at church we grieved corporately. I saw mourning parents, spoke with them, hugged them, cried a little too. It was really real and it was terribly sad and there are no answers.
And I don't think we are supposed to have them. We believe in a God that raises people from the dead but we live in a world where people do die and stay dead. The knowledge that Sam knew Jesus is a huge comfort to those of us who believe that means he is is heaven, but it doesn't stop the tragedy of a young life coming to an end; and expecting good things to be brought from this does not justify the loss. I think perhaps there are sometimes more questions as a Christian than not, because we believe that God knows what will happen and has power over everything. The need to let go and remember our humanity is difficult in the promise that we have the authority of Christ living in us.
So there is Both denial And acceptance of this death. And this is the first of many BOTH/ANDs. God is good... and bad things happen. We are free and empowered to live life in fullness... and life gets taken away. We should be glad for what is out there... and there are nasty things out there trying to get in. Continuing to believe in the best things... and seeing the worst happen. Knowing that Jesus said fullness of life is right here right now if we choose to live in it... but also knowing that He said He's going to one day come back and bring it with Him.
That last one in particular... it fits with my adamancy of late that we have the complete potential to be totally whole and free and living life in all it's fullness, yet with this happening as a sudden stark reminder of the final chapter to come in the story. It is NOW and NOT YET. How can this even be the case?
But it is the case. And as we mourn and are genuinely sad I have also had tons of laughter in the past 24 hours. I was at times so hopeful for what will come from this that I felt guilty... until I randomly met with my pastor in the street at just the right time, had some great sound advice from friends, re-remembered how to cry, then heard a sermon that reminded me I am only finite in my capacity to feel and that people can be both JOYFUL and GRIEVING simultaneously. I saw smiles and laughter at church, even through the tears of his parents. It was only a moment but everywhere and in every way we and life are both/and. [I highly recommend the sermon actually and will put a link up just as soon as it is online. It isn't overt-God, just really helpful ideas about expressing the truth that joy and hope and love is not wrong in the face of this, but that the pain is still real.]
Studying maths I have learned that many things are beyond understanding. If backed into a corner, even the most brilliant of theorists will have to admit that the very foundations of maths are unproven, circular and paradoxical. That is a nightmare and because of it we mathematicians live behind a veil of ignorance (wow I would not be popular in my department if they knew I said that!). The same impossibility applies here. Stuff happens that the actual processes of logic we use to function can't grasp. Life (and counting) does seem to work and go on but the why is totally incomprehensible and that is the point of trust.
One of the problems with the maths is the realm of the infinite. Things just change when we deal with numbers that aren't tangible. There is no more "logic". Sam's death is simply wrong on our finite human scale. When we factor in eternity it doesn't stop our human reasoning from being in pain because we are still human, but it does mean that somehow something is different... even if we are unable to fully grasp it. His six year old brother serenely drew a picture of him going off in a balloon from the rest of the family to a happy place. Kids that age don't have a grasp of the impact of "forever" apparently. I think maybe we are ones the that don't have the grasp. Who knows, perhaps that is the childlike faith we are told to believe in.
It was a steal, not a plan. But in the long, actual long, run, in a way we don't yet get, it is still fullness of life. Not the kind of death (link) that I wrote of before, so we don't mourn like those without hope (link). But we do mourn for now. Yet not too.
To carry on we must remember it is both/and. The sadness of death is true but so is the joy of life and, since the size (or cardinality for a mathematician) of the life far exceeds the size of the death, the net result is still good. In theory at least.
The wedding celebrated in our church on Saturday reminds us of this joy. A wedding, like the one Jesus gives (as mentioned a couple of posts ago (link)) as an analogy for the union of us with Him when He returns for good. The picture of perfect love, intimacy and joyful celebration for ever. We are still to hope for that and remember that it is coming in entirety one day...
Another thing we did yesterday was take part in a social action project, blessing the very community (I actually drove past the spot) in which the hit and run took place. Sharing love potentially, and definitely symbolically, with the drunk driver responsible. I was group leading with some children that day who are Sam's age and younger. They can't help but be joyful it seems. As we were driving along they started shouting excitedly out the window and, after a conversation about sensitivity to different people's beliefs, the little girl next to me began calling:
"Welcome to the future!"
When we got to lunch, for some unknown (possibly unknowable?!) reason there was a camp man playing a white custom-made fancy electric organ (with "Byron Jones The Welsh Wizard" written on the front) there, practising for a hymn concert that evening. Amidst the tunes he suddenly blasted out "Dancing Queen" and we all had a sing-a-long.
It IS the future, it IS dancing... and it is still a little bit now and sometimes crap with a capital 'C' too.
Fullness of life isn't always about merriment. My enthusiasm before was concerned with counteracting apathy and cynicism, not about grief in the things that genuinely demonstrate a lack of life. Yet the constant, all-pervading, joy is still a valid notion when considered in relation to the future hope; it just doesn't always look like dancing. (Though it still can do too.) Bitter-sweet.
The Bible says that the Kingdom of God (Christian lingo for total fullness of life (a necessary tautology I now realise)) belongs to those such as the children. It also says that death has lost its sting. We do still feel the bitter puncture wound right here right now but in heaven today, and forever more, Sam is dancing (well most probably playing football actually)... and he is gonna get better and better at it for ever and ever. That is just sweet.
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