Am i one of the only people who thought, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was incredibly overrated? The whole time I was watching it I thought, "This is very familiar. Where have I seen this before?" I think I just found out.
Its one of the most contentious issues in our society, but important things deserve attention even when they are uncomfortable to talk about. Today is the 36th anniversary of the supreme court decision that legalized abortion on demand here in the United States. Nicole and I are proud members of Feminists for Life because we reject violence and exploitation--especially of the most vulnerable members of society. One of the chief tenants of Christian action is solidarity with those who are defenseless. We believe that Jesus Christ came to our defense when we were defenseless to the powers of evil and death, and thus believers are come to the defense of those who are marginalized in our society: the disabled, the sick, the elderly, the minority, the poor, and the unborn. Abortion is a justice issue. I'm not attempting to incite debate in this context. I recognize the nuance of ethics in medicine and how morality is legislated in a pluralistic society. At the very least, we all have participated in a system that has exploited vulnerable people. For that we should repent. But we also should look to the future. I'm grateful for the progress that has been made to open our eyes to this travesty. Consider the testimony of this pro-choice writer Caitlin Flanigan who saw her first child in an ultrasound for the first time and wrote this:
An ultrasound image taken surprisingly early in pregnancy can stop me in my tracks. In it is much more than I want to know about the tiny creature whose destruction we have legalized: a beating heart, a human face, functioning kidneys, two waving hands that seem not too far away from being able to grasp and shake a rattle... The demands pro-life advocates make of pregnant women are modest: All they want is a little bit of time. All they are asking, in a societal climate in which out-of-wedlock pregnancy is without stigma, is that pregnant women give the tiny bodies growing inside of them a few months, until the little creatures are large enough to be on their way, to loving homes.
So we spent some 20+ days traveling around Christmas and New Years. Usually, at the end of a trip we get a feeling of dread at the thought of returning home to work and routine. This time was different. Perhaps because we were both sick, we felt a great sense of relief to arrive at our home after the holidays. Still, it was surprising. We moved into a new apartment at the beginning of December. Well, it was new to us. Its actually quite an old building. The wallpaper is peeling in the stairway. There are layers of cheap paint splattered on every surface. It has ugly carpet. Carpentry so shoddy there probably isn't a single right-angle in the whole place. Yet, when we arrived home late last Sunday night--we sighed relief and were glad to be there.
Initially the main appeal of our place was price. We're poor, and the place was cheap. But it didn't take long to find things to like about it. We have more room than we used to; a bigger bedroom, kitchen, and a whole dinning room (which kind of dwarfs our humble kitchen table). Though we live just three blocks from our old place, it is incredibly more quiet. On a clear night I can see the Sears Tower from my bedroom and out the dining room I look down onto a charming little street of houses.
But I think this new appreciation of home goes beyond the physical charms of the place. I'm learning more about what really makes me happy. I think for Nicole and I, its being together. This week, a friend asked me how I was doing considering my struggle to find a ministry call and the financial pressures of this current recession. Though those things do weigh heavily on me, I was still able to say with integrity, "we're doing great". Nicole and I enjoy the simple pleasure of each others company and the great excitement about another baby on the way. These are things that are important to us. Yeah, nice things would be nice and I can't honestly say that I don't feel a little malaise as I struggle to find a job, but we've got a roof over our heads and food in the fridge and reruns and friends and boardgames to keep us entertained. Life is full of challenge, but life is good. We're doing great.
Matt and I have been travelling from sea to shining sea in the last month (if you consider Lake Superior a sea) visiting many friends and family members for Christmas and New Years. We went to MN for Christmas, drove back to Chicago on 12/30, and flew to WA for New Year’s Eve. We stayed in WA long enough to see our friends Devyn and Ryan get married (congratulations!) and just came home 2 days ago. It was a great break but we are so ready to settle in at home and not fly anywhere for a long time!
We have had pretty sparse internet access over the past few weeks, so one exciting item has gone unreported on our blog. We are expecting a baby! This is great news for us, and we can’t wait until approximately July 7th to welcome a new member of our family. We appreciate your prayers as we wait because the memories of Evie’s problems produce a lot of anxieties for us.
Here’s all the info that you’re surely dying to know! :P
Last night I was filled with great pride to see my lovely bride receive her Master's degree at the Winter commencement ceremony. It can't be understated how hard Nicole has worked these last 3.5 years. She's juggled full time work, multiple part time jobs, a full load of graduate courses, and a pregnancy--all while putting up with a dufus like me. Her hard work kept us fed, clothed, and sheltered while we pursued graduate education. After going through so much last winter, Nicole committed to press on with her studies and this fall finished her coursework to earn a Master of Non-Profit Administration degree. I'm continually impressed with her diligence and her grace under fire. She is an inspiration to me. Congratulations, Nicole. You've more than earned it.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your Presence?
If I ascend into heaven, you are there;
If I make my bed in the grave, you are there;
If I rise on the wings of the morning
or dwell on the farthest reaches of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me
and the night shall be light about me,"
Even the darkness hides nothing from You,
but the night shines as the day;
the darkness and the light are both alike to You.
-Psalm 139
Tonight marks an entire year since the night we held our daughter for the final time as she breathed her last. Easily, the darkest moment of our lives. Its something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. There are times when people pass away, and though sad, it is a holy moment to honor a life well lived. Many other times, premature death shatters all we know to be good and holy. The night Evie died was a night of bitter loneliness. I did not know where God was.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their Spirits rise up to praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave?
Why do you hide your face from me?
You have taken from me...
Darkness is my only companion
-Psalm 88
In the following days, weeks, and months our friends surrounded us with care. They prayed when we could not. I grasped for faith, and occasionally, caught hold of something. Or perhaps, more accurately, someone got a hold of me. My mind still frequently remembers holding her cold body and wondering where God went. Eventually, I learned where God was. Here...
God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself
-2 Corinthians 5.19
Where was God? He was on the cross, befriending my daughter in his death. God the Father, grieving the grief that we know... that he knows. But that is not the final word.
In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered... Since children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death. -Hebrews 2.10, 14-5
God knows. God cares. More than that, God saves. The love demonstrated in the death and resurrection of Christ means not only that Evie is not alone, but that she and I and all who belong to him will not stay dead. Death has been swallowed up in Victory! Where, O Death, is your Victory? Where, O Death, is your sting? -I Corinthians 15:55
=======
Still, we miss her so much. The passage of time has healed a lot of wounds, but in some ways its painful to think about how long she's been gone. Grief is a curious thing. It ebbs and flows and shows up in unexpected ways. Today has been a mostly good day. We've spent it together just being with one another and also finding some holiday activities to lift our spirits a little bit.
Studies have shown that couples who lose a child might triple their odds of divorce. There might be a few different reasons for this. For one, the inevitable depression that accompanies the loss can put incredible strain on marriage. The adage might also be true that "hurt people, hurt people". While certainly the pain of losing Evie impacted our relationship, remarkably our love for each other has been an incredible source of strength for the battle. We know we need each other. We're blessed to have each other to carry one another. We're also blessed to have such a wonderful community of people who look out for us and have helped us along this last year: both our biological family, our many church families, and friends from all over. We'll never be able to thank you all enough.
For a variety of reasons, I have been in a fairly significant spiritual "desert" place for the last few weeks. Life's circumstances, frustration, and guilt have taken their toll on my soul. As I felt my soul sinking lower and lower, this morning I was graced with the worship of the Church in Advent season. I have been gifted with some hope.
It was a morning where the hand of providence seemed to conspire circumstances that spoke significantly into my darkness. A time when many things come together from the music, the scripture, the sermon, and even the treasurer giving a stewardship report--all these things combined as the Spirit stirred something inside of me. It was something like this: though the checking account is precariously low, though the future is uncertain, and though my past is marked with pain--the dope is that there is still hope. You don't belong to this world and its vision of life, you belong to Jesus and his Kingdom- a place where money doesn't matter, where power doesn't influence, where status is out of style and all belong and are loved. We who are baptized into Christ have died to the old self and now live a new life. I need to live that new life.
The hours we spend on Sunday Morning in worship are a symbol and a sign that we believe the world is not as it should be. We bend ourselves to a breaking point to see the world beyond ours, to see the world through the eyes of Jesus. To look beyond the chaos and the sin and the tragedy and say, "there is meaning in this!" There is something out there beyond us! Trust, believe, and repent... and together we will wait for God.
So this morning was a time for me to hear the message of two prophets, Isaiah who says, "Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God... He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep," and John the Baptist who cries out for the people to confess their sin, repent, and be baptized. I needed to hear both. To know that God still cares, but also to know that I need to be reborn each and everyday--to put on Christ and live a resurrected life and reject the culture of death that is obsessed with power, status, consumerism, hollow sexuality, and cold hard cash.
Some refreshed hope makes waiting more enjoyable. Happy Advent!
She would have been 1 today. I'm not sure what to write. Its a tough day for us, but perhaps not as bad as we feared. Surely, there have been and will be tears; but while our hearts ache I think I can also say that I experience some measure of "peace that passes understanding". I've never been "Pollyannaish" about suffering and redemption, I read the bible too much to believe trite sentiments. Sometimes life really sucks. Still, sometimes grace gives you the strength to suffer today in order to see hope tomorrow. We love her and miss her so much, and today is yet another milestone robbed from us by the enemy. But we honor her short life by continuing to live ours. We spent some time away this weekend, just Nicole and I to be by ourselves and to escape. It was nice. We carry grief in our hearts, but also some joy at the privilige to have known and cared for her. We are also glad for the many kind words shared with us already as we face these painful anniversaries. Happy Birthday, Evie.
Children's Heartlink.
Whatever your politics (I don't intend to start or participate in any kind of debate), its an understatement to say that last night was a moment of incredible historic significance. Dylan's much over quoted song remains stubbornly about the only appropriate thing to say, "The times they are-a changing." The stain of America's original sin is not entirely gone, but 400 years later... the cynics are being shown the door. A black man named Barack Hussein Obama beat the Clinton machine in lilly white Iowa, and then went on to be elected to the highest office in the land. He didn't win in a squeaker, he won outright--he won midwestern states, he won in the mountain west, and he's even won in the old south. This morning columnist Thomas Friedman even went so far to say this, "And so it came to pass that on Nov. 4, 2008, shortly after 11 p.m. Eastern time, the American Civil War ended, as a black man — Barack Hussein Obama — won enough electoral votes to become president of the United States."
Rod Dreher notes the poetic symmetry of history in the new American political landscape:
Whatever your politics, what lies ahead are great challenges. But we can now say for certain that anything is possible. So that's enough politics for now--let's all just take a deep breath. I plan to have a cup of coffee and do some housework. In the meantime, trust that the universe will unfold as it should--under the watch of our creator.The modern conservative movement began with the crushing defeat of Arizona Sen. Barry Goldwater in the 1964 presidential race. The modern conservative movement ends with the crushing defeat of Arizona Sen. John McCain -- who took Goldwater's Senate seat upon his retirement -- in the 2008 presidential race.
Modern liberalism began its implosion with riots in Chicago's Grant Park at the 1968 Democratic Convention. Tonight, modern liberalism is reborn at Chicago's Grant Park, where a black Chicago Democrat will celebrate winning the presidency.
"Faith is not necessarily, or not soon, a resting place. Faith puts you out on a wide river in a little boat, in the fog, in the dark. Even a man of faith knows that we've all got to go through enough to kill us. As a man of faith, I've thought a considerable amount about a friend of mine (imagined, but also real) I call the Man in the Well.
The wooded slopes and hollows hereabouts are strewn with abandoned homesteads, the remains of another kind of world. Most of them by now have no buildings left. Everything about them that would rot has rotted. What you find now in those places when you come upon them are the things that were built of stone: foundations, cellars, chimneys, wells. Sometimes the wells are deep, dug to the bedrock and beyond, and walled with rock laid up without mortar. Those walls, laid underground where there is no freezing and thawing, will last, I guess, almost forever.Sometimes the well is the only structure remaining, and there will be no visible sign of it. It will be covered with old boards in some stage of decay, green with moss or covered with leaves. It is a perfect trap, and now and then you find that rabbits and groundhogs have blundered in and drowned. A man too could blunder into one.Imagine a hunter, somebody from a city some distance away, who has a job he doesn't like, and who has come alone out into the country to hunt on a Saturday. It is a beautiful, perfect full day, and the Man feels free. He has left all his constraints and worries and fears behind. Nobody knows where he is. Anybody who wanted to complain or accuse or collect a debt could not find him. The morning that started frosty has grown warm. The sky seems to give its luster to everything in the world. The Man feels strong and fine. His gun lies ready in the crook of his arm, though he really doesn't care whether he finds game or not. He has a sandwich and a candy bar in his coat pocket. And then, not looking where he is going, which is easy enough on such a day, he steps onto the rotten boards that cover one of those old wells, and down he goes. He disappears suddenly out of the lighted world. He falls so quickly that he doesn't have time even to ask what is happening. He hits water, goes under, comes up, swims, or clings to the wall, inserting his fingers between the rocks. And now, I think, you cannot help imagining the way it would be with him. He looks up and sees how far down he has come. The sky that was so large and reassuring only seconds ago is now just a small blue picture of itself, far away. His first thought is that he is alone, that nobody knows where he is; these two great pleasures that were his freedom have now become his prison, perhaps his tomb. He calls out (for might not somebody chance to be nearby, just as he chanced to fall into the well?) and he hears himself enclosed within the sound of his own calling voice. How does this story end? Does he save himself? Is he athletic enough, maybe, to get his boots off and climb out, clawing with fingers and toes into the grudging holds between the rocks of the wall? Does he climb up and fall back? Does somebody, in fact, for a wonder, chance to pass nearby and hear him? Does he despair, give up, and drown? Does he, despairing, pray finally the first true prayer of his life?Listen. There is a light that includes our darkness, a day that shines down even on the clouds. A man of faith believes that the Man in the Well is not lost. He does not believe this easily or without pain, but he believes it. His belief is a kind of knowledge beyond any way of knowing. He believes that the child in the womb is not lost, nor is the man who's work has come to nothing, nor is the old woman forsaken in a nursing home. He believes that those who make their bed in Hell are not lost, or those who dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, or the lame man at Bethesda Pool, or Lazarus in the grave, or those who pray, 'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani.' Have Mercy."-Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow
Posts
All Comments
