Knowledge and living

Yesterday I came across this interview with NT Wright who's book Surprised by Hope I'm reading through rather slowly. What struck me about this interview is how much I don't think about the matters being debated between Wright and Piper. And that got me to thinking why I have resisted the encouragements to go to seminary.

You don't earn a doctorate without some scholarly bent; and being someone who likes to think about the life of faith, a number of people have thus suggested that seminary might be a good thing. I'm not here to suggest that seminary can't be a good thing. However, I'd like to use some of my experiences in the language classroom to explain my resistance.

As I've spent time on both sides of the language classroom as both a learner and an instructor, it is obvious that rule knowledge is not the same as being able to converse with people. I have a love hate relationship with learning grammar. It's neat in a "hmm. They chose to express things using that way. Interesting." kinda of a sense. It's maddening in a "ARG! I need to squeeze my thoughts into those rules and its just.not.fitting.right!" My learning style has typically been to learn a massive amount of rules, try to speak but be overwhelmed by all the rules I'm trying to keep track of and apply, get frustrated, and then actively try to forget most of the rules, selectively apply a few of them and sting words together.

As an instructor, I've seen that sometimes my grammar nuts are my best language users, but frequently that's not the case. Peter MacIntyre a language researcher has proposed that "Willingness to Communicate" is a trait that varies from person to person, can be fostered or discouraged, affects language learning outcome. So my students with ok grammar knowledge but enthusiastic willingness to communicate tend to improve a lot faster (and are more fun to work with). My grammar freaks with low willingness to communicate can surprise me with bursts of fluency, but frequently do better in writing tasks where they can be methodical but scared stiff in speaking activities.

When I say that I am resistant to the idea of seminary, I am resistant to the idea that more knowledge necessarily helps me live a life of faith more coherently. As I read 10-20 pages a week of Surprised by Hope, I do think that Wright's explanation of resurrection will ultimately change my outlook on life and how I make decisions. But I don't think that resolving the debate between Wright and Piper will. To me going to seminary would be like my experience of studying Latin grammar intensively for 3 years and then attending a 45 min class on speaking Latin and only being able to produce "The soup is hot. The soup is cold." (True story.) It's far, far too much information at once to integrate into practice.

When I tell people I'm a linguist they frequently think that I know many languages. As a personal preference, in the past I have studied quite a few. However, on a day to day level, I don't study a particular language at all. I am not learning a new language. I look at language use with little reflection about my own experience. I don't want this to happen to my spiritual life. I don't want to dissect, examine, and write about other people's thoughts and experiences on the matter. I actually want to live a faith-filled life. So I'm taking it slow. I appreciate the hard work of others, but I only digest a bit at a time.

Dandled on her knee

12 For this is what the LORD says:
"I will extend peace to her [Jerusalem] like a river,
and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream;
you will nurse and be carried on her arm
and dandled on her knees.

13 As a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;
and you will be comforted over Jerusalem."
~Isaiah chapter 66

This is a strikingly maternal passage from the Bible, amazingly tender in a passage and indeed a book with a lot of harsh imagery.

As a researcher before I became a mother, I studied infant attachment and hypothesized that the neurobiology of affiliation could be seen as an "Interactional Instinct." In my head, I knew that the nervous systems of infants and newborns even were tuned not just to biological needs but social needs. Just feeding and cleaning a child without interacting with the child would likely leave him/her like Harlow's monkeys or the tragic Romanian orphans.

Nevertheless, as a new mother, I am shocked at how much my child responds to my attention and care. Typically, when she cries around 6AM, I nurse her assuming she's hungry. This reliably calms her. This week, at 3 months of age, I tried holding her and sitting quietly with her. Amazingly, this also calmed her and we sat together quietly for 10 minutes, and then I nursed her.

As I sat there holding her marveling at how rapidly her nervous system moved from an aroused state to a resting state, I felt I had new perspective on the verses above. When I first encountered this passage, I was the distressed child desperately seeking rest. I longed to be dandled and delighted in. Now as a mother holding her child, I am experiencing tremendous satisfaction and joy from seeing her experience rest. I realize that all those times I was hoping for consolation, God was there longing to provide it, delighting to be able to comfort.

Hiatus

I should explain the current hiatus.

I'm wrapping up my dissertation. I will be back in June when all this has blown over.

We'll never get March back

--Has it hit you that you're a MOM?
--No. Keep asking me and I'll let you know when it happens.

New motherhood is weird. Newly married was weird and actually also disrupted my sleep patterns because it took some getting used to sharing a bed, but new motherhood takes that to a whole new level. My life in the day is punctuated by feedings after which my mother takes the little one and I get back to my dissertation. At night, I'm on my own for three feedings: midnight, 3AM, and 5AM (more or less). Pee and poo are whatever, breastmilk everywhere? Ugh. Inconsolable crying? [tears hair out]

My newborn turns 1 month today, and it's supposed to take 30 days to start a new habit or so I heard. But normal still feels like March, just me and my husband, our morning routines, our evening routines, our outlook on life and planning. Starting today I have finished the Chinese month of postpartum recuperation and can leave the house. I've left the house to go to the pediatrician's, but have otherwise been house-bound. Frankly, I haven't minded it one bit partly because it furthers the illusion that life is as it was. (Having Mom prepare my meals and others go grocery shopping for me is pretty nice too.) I don't have to think about how to run my errands with a newborn in tow. I don't have to schedule everything around her feedings. I don't have to worry about her and the vagaries of "out there". It's May, but I keep thinking it is March.

This reminds me of that verse about being "new creations"

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!
~Paul's 2nd letter to the folk in Corinth

I've been a follower of Jesus for most of my life, way, way longer than I've been a mother, yet I find that I can also have the mindset that "normal" is my old life. This new life is strange and not real. What does it take to embrace a new identity and to own it?

About 2 years ago, 5 years into my PhD program, I realized that I wasn't an entering student anymore. I was willing to be called a scholar or researcher and could self-identify as that. Some time in the past 3 years, I've grown accustomed to being married. I don't identify with my maiden name; I don't find myself trying to assert my independence and "singlehood". How did these happen? Well, they certainly didn't happen in a month. For the PhD, I worked with some new students and the contrast in their thinking and my thinking was so different even though I could remember being in their shoes. That helped me to see that I had changed. In marriage, I'm finding that I'm doing "being married" more reflexively. I don't have to tell myself to consider my husband too. Not that I'm a wonderfully considerate person all the time, but I'm not reminding myself that I'm not single all the time. I've probably also finished grieving over the things I did as a single person that I've basically given up, like dragonboating and going out late. These have been replaced with other things I enjoy like Saturday morning pancakes and hosting tacos & SciFi night.

So what will it take to embrace new motherhood and being a new creation in Christ?

For new motherhood, I think it will first take time because in that time I will collect experiences. For new creation-ness, the time has been there. I think what it will take is perspective. What makes me feel like not a new creation are my stellar moments of NOT Christ-likeness. Yelling at a 2 wk old for stuff she can't control will make you feel pretty crappy. But just as I am not a perfect wife but still a wife, I am not a perfect "new creation" but still a "new creation" nevertheless. "New creation-ness" makes me feel like I should have it all together, to have left all the old stuff behind. I wonder if I need to consider new creation-ness as a process of growing into a new identity rather than the perfect, immediate adoption of Christ-like living.

Identity is a weird thing and something I thought 20 year olds dealt with. But here I am staring down 30, going through the another topsy turvy identity change.

Guess it doesn't matter cuz any way you slice it we'll never get March back.

The temporal experience of God

Lenten musing 9

¹ I will extol the LORD at all times;
his praise will always be on my lips.

² My soul will boast in the LORD;
let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

³ Glorify the LORD with me;
let us exalt his name together.

⁴ I sought the LORD, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.

⁵ Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.

~Psalm 34

In the intervening days since I last posted, my husband and I welcomed our first child into the world. Today, she is four days old and while nursing her I read aloud the lectionary readings, including Psalm 34.

As I was reading today's passages I realized that our little girl essentially has no past and only a future. Her experiences with God and his world lay ahead of her, lines in a play yet un-performed. Unlike her, I have a past and colors my present and future. Reading scripture today, I was reawakened to the temporal experience of God. Having journeyed longer in life than our little one, I can look back and point to the places where "I sought the LORD, and he answered me", where "he delivered me from all my fears." I can choose to look to [him] as a current disposition. And I can make on going choices into the future to extol , praise, and boast in the Lord.

It is my hope and prayer that our little one will have a lifetime walking with the Lord so that she too may look into her story and see God's work and will played out time and time again, and that these memories and experiences will carry her through a life filled with praise and glory for her heavenly Father.

Rhythms of Abiding

Lenten musing 8

In all the pre-natal literature that has passed before me, there have been two pieces that have helped the most. The first was a cartoon in a book that said "Labor is work; it hurts; you can do it." The second was an illustration of contractions as a wave.

I'm a few days past due and everyone is eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Mini. My body has taken this time to slowly prepare for labor by having occasional but increasingly strong contractions. This is no big deal when I'm awake but is kind of disruptive when I'm sleeping because I'm awakened and there's nothing else to focus on. I think about the wave and count out 6 slow breaths; two to go up the wave, two for the top, and two coming down and by then the contraction is basically over and I try to go back to sleep.

I was chatting with a friend about being in new or "liminal" spaces, on the cusp of something and the discomfort of being there. For her, it's a new dating relationship. For me, it isn't new parenthood which is still rather abstract, but upcoming professional changes for my husband and I. Everything feels like a struggle because of the uncertainty ahead. We want to act, but there isn't anything to do.

In times like these, I think we are called to the rhythms of abiding which are wave-like. With our eyes, all we see is an uphill path obscured. But when we abide in Christ, we can focus on where we are today and take today's steps leaving tomorrow's steps for tomorrow. As we do this, we are strengthened for each day and find that we have been carried through the uncertainty.

On the upward side of a wave, it seems that there is only up. But as we experience the rhythms of abiding, we learn that God is faithful and we are not left to live in tension indefinitely. Is it difficult, requiring faith to abide on the uphill side? Absolutely. Labor is work; it hurts. But God supports us over the top and takes us to his appointed place. You can do it.

The ups and downs

Lenten musing 7

In all of this we can sometimes get the mistaken impression of uninterrupted progress forward. Even the use of the term "stages" can unwittingly convey the idea of leaving one level for a higher one never to return again. I have not found it to be so. My experience has been much more fluid and undulating. One day I may be experiencing an intimate attention to Christ's presence that is well nigh amazing, and the next day I am in the "Slough of Despond." I can alternate between being meekly submissive and stubbornly rebellious with surprising speed. And I find many of the devotional masters record similar experiences. The stages are not hard and fast. There is a lot of movement back and forth, up and down.

But it is not a spiritual roller coaster either, because through all the motion there is a sense of progress and growth. The feeling of intermittent communion begins to give way to more sustained fellowship. Whereas before the hard thing was to seek his face, more and more the thing is to refrain from seeking him. Slowly and certainly, howbeit with many reversals, knowing God moves from obligation to delight. Although many times we do not pay attention to the holy Whisper, increasingly we do. We are less and less discouraged by our many wanderings in the wilderness because , having tasted the land of promise, we desire it more and more. As much as we may flirt with double-minded living, our real love is singleness of purpose and increasingly it is capturing our heart.
~Foster, Freedom of Simplicity

We're almost a month into Lent and it's been about 3 months since I returned to daily scripture reading. I am definitely feeling this undulating but progressive path toward a more Christ-centered life. I had so much trepidation about returning to regular scripture reading because I was worried that it would be an invitation for God to wreck my life, to twist me into something I didn't want to be. Instead, I find that I am being unfolded and freed to live less fearfully, less tortured, with more trust and grace. Not that last week wasn't a truly stressful week, not that I didn't feel I was regressing back to self-reliance, but I didn't regress as far and I was able to move forward in faith in a way I haven't in a long time.

A different set of worries

Lenten musing 6

Be to me a rock of refuge,
to which I may continually come;
~Psalm 71

The writer here worries that the God he/she cries out to won't be there some time, won't be a refuge when approached.

In addition to the readings from the previous musing, I have continued to be bombarded it seems by reminders to pray, reminders of the centrality of prayer in the God-filled life, in the Christ-centered life. But were I to re-write this line I would write:

May I seek you as a rock of refuge,
Instead of my own competence;
~Andrea's Psalm

This is how desperate the state of prayer is for me, how much I need to learn, how far I have to go.

Note to self

Lenten musing 5

From this morning's lectionary reading

Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,
for in you my soul takes refuge;
in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge,
till the storms of destruction pass by.
I cry out to God Most High,
to God who fulfills his purpose for me.
~A Miktam of King David, Psalm 57

A quote I've been carrying in my Bible since I finished college

It is necessary for the Spirit of God to burn into our hearts this mystery, that the most important work we have to do is that which must be done on our knees, alone with God, away from the bustle of the world and the plaudits of men
~O. Hallesby, Prayer

From the book I'm currently browsing through

Prayer frees us to be controlled by God. To pray is to change. There is no greater liberating force in the Christian life than prayer. To enter the gaze of the Holy is never to be the same.
~Foster, Freedom of Simplicity

A little perspective

Lenten musing 4

Yesterday, my cousin asked, "Aren't you due soon?" and I wrote back, "I'm due 3/26 which is VERY soon relative to last summer or even Thanksgiving. NOT SOON ENOUGH relative to how big I feel the baby has gotten vs. how much space I think is left in there. And TOO SOON relative to how much work I want to do before the baby comes." So I'm a little conflicted.

This morning, I didn't sleep well from 5AM on wondering if I should get up and get to getting to work. Finally, at 7 I dragged my harrassed self out of bed.

I'm reading the Book of Common Prayer Daily Office Lectionary through my feedreader and this was verse 1:

Psalm 50:1 The Mighty One, God the LORD,
speaks and summons the earth
from the rising of the sun to its setting.
Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty,
God shines forth.

Wow!

I love the expression of beauty and expansiveness, the sense of strength and reliability, the realization that my worries are small things in light of this kind of majesty.

A little perspective on an anxious morning. A little thankfulness to direct me out of my self-pity.

The service of celebration

Lenten musing 3

I'm pregnant. This is not a "Hey everyone, here's the good news, I'm pregnant!" This is a "Mission control, we are ready for landing." ...or "take off." I'm not sure how to characterize this. Regardless, during this Lenten season our first child will come. As my body prepares for this child's coming, I am in need of more and more service myself. Things that I used to blithely do independently--from the stereotypical getting out of a chair to a more idiosyncratic making appointments--are now things that I turn to others to help me with.

Today's passage in the Lenten reader I'm going through is Luke 22:24-30

²⁴Also a dispute arose among them as to which of them was considered to be greatest. ²⁵Jesus said to them, "The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. ²⁶But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. ²⁷For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves. ²⁸You are those who have stood by me in my trials. ²⁹And I confer on you a kingdom, just as my Father conferred one on me, ³⁰so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom and sit on thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.

Reflecting on this passage, I am reminded that in this life, following Jesus is submitting myself to one who serves. But reflecting on my life recently, what stands out is how much I am in need of service. So I asked myself, "Andrea, how are you serving the people around you?"

Here's the list I came up with:

1. I am learning to be jealous about time and activity for my husband's sake. Translation: I say no to stuff I would probably otherwise say yes to. This helps him be himself and to accomplish what he wants to get done before the kid comes.
2. I am cultivating friendships with single women. This isn't a gee-you're-so-awesome-to-do-this thing. I enjoy these women regardless of their marital status, but I'm not unaware of the tendency for married women to fall into a giant abyss of I-only-know-married-people. There are a few women that I make sure I make time for.
3. I am allowing people to celebrate this time with us. My husband and I are not gushy, ecstatic people. (Although, you might catch me in a moment after a particularly good Duke Men's Basketball win.) We have to remind ourselves to allow our community to celebrate with us. Case in point, when I asked my husband (then fiance) how many people we should invite to our wedding, I think he said 18. I told him I had more immediate relatives than that. We have hermit-y tendencies, but we are learning the goodness of allowing people into our lives and space.

I think the service of celebration isn't service just because it isn't my first inclination. Celebration can bring with it elements of the gospel. Being together and enjoying one another points toward the ultimate calling together of God's people before his throne. Celebrating a wedding points toward the bridegroom Jesus and his church. Celebrating a child to come points toward the expectation of Jesus' return and points toward our process of being "born from above" as new creatures, citizens of God's kingdom.

For many people, these are glum times. Many of us know people who have been laid off, are ourselves are laid off, or are worried about being laid off. When we celebrate what is true and beautiful, we are reminded of God's goodness whether we can articulate that or not. In the small and big ways we allow people to join in celebration, we enlarge the reach of God's kingdom. And that is a good thing.

Simplicity and the single treasure

Lenten musing 2

"The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light" (Matt. 6:22, KJV). If all within us is honed down to the single treasure of Christ and his Kingdom, then we are living in the light of simplicity.
...
With our eye focused on Christ the Center, we are to live with glad and generous hearts. This is simplicity.
~Richard Foster, Freedom of Simplicity, p. 36

One of the features of Lent is a paring back of "life": withdrawing from certain foods, habits, experiences. Not knowing all the history, I can only speak to the effect this appears to have. Paring back in this can help us to focus anew on "Christ the Center". For me, I've stepped away from seeking political and economic news for the season. My usual habit is to skim three national newspapers a day and links from political bloggers. I found that the first influence of my every day was the news and most of it was pretty angry or anger inspiring. That seemed a bit out of kilter with what I thought should be the first influence of my day.

Foster's Freedom of Simplicity happens to be my current browse book and it seems fitting for the Lenten season. On some level contemporary life is not simple. Yet Jesus calls us to his rest and makes it sound like there is space in the kingdom for simplicity. I think Foster is getting at that kind of simplicity, not some fairy tale pastoral ideal (and pastoral life isn't that simple). As Christ moves to the center of our lives, I think we begin to dwell in simplicity of focus. It's not that I shouldn't read the news, but can I learn to read the news while focused on Christ? I think I'd like to see that happen.

Why I'm observing Lent

Lenten musing 1

I come from a Protestant background that is not without tradition in the sense that the two churches I attended as a child had their own way of doing things and their own rhythms, but they were never articulated as such. I don't know that I had met anyone who observed any part of Lent until I went to college, and at that point I was not a fan of the "organized" part of "organized religion". So as far as I could tell, Lent was a religious ritual that was nice to see in a highly secular setting, but not for me.

So why am I observing Lent now?

A couple books have been really influential in moving me toward the liturgical church calendar. The first was Girl Meets God in which Lauren Winner wrote about her conversion experience from observant Judaism to Christianity. There's a bit in her book where I think she was talking about joining a Christian community around the world that was reading the same passages and prayers according to the Book of Common Prayer, the Anglican prayer book. Given that the local church dropped vastly in my esteem in college, the idea of wanting to join in a worldwide body of Christ was really new yet appealing. In the intervening years between college and reading that book, I had spent time in the former Soviet Union and I realized that my time in that country would come and go, but the local church body I participated in would continue (hopefully) beyond my stay. Church practices that keep me connected to believers around the world pulls me out of my small individualistic perspective and I think that is healthy. So part of why I am observing Lent is to join with brothers and sisters around the world in doing so.

The second influential book was Marva Dawn's Keeping the Sabbath Wholly. This book talks about the blessing of the Sabbath that God gave the Jews. But the one message that really stuck with me is how the Sabbath provides a rhythm of celebration and work. I am one of the least sentimental people I know, so it takes real effort for me to connect with what I consider non-pragmatic things. So I come to an appreciation of holidays and rituals really late in life--like in the past 5 years. What I have come to appreciate does end up having a pragmatic slant, but that's just me. What I've been realizing is that every day can't be work and "progress". In fact, to do good work regularly, we need rest; to enjoy the day to day and the ordinary in life, we need the exceptional and extra-ordinary. Holidays and holydays help us out by refocusing us and highlighting important things that we may otherwise lose in the everyday.

Easter has been rising in importance to me as a believer, and Lent as a precursor helps me experience Easter as a season. In the meditative subtraction of Lent, the celebratory glory of Easter stands out more. And for a pragmatic curmudgeon, that's a pretty big deal.