Blessed are the uncool

I had cool thoughts coming together this weekend to write up. But then I read this in Brennan Manning's Furious Longing of God and realized this was better than anything I could do. 

I say to you,
Blessed is he who exposes himself to an existence never brought under mastery,
who does not transcend,
but rather abandons himself to my ever-transcending grace.

Blessed are not the enlightened whose every question has been answered and who are delighted with their own sublime insight,
the mature and ripe ones whose one remaining action is to fall from the tree.

Blessed, rather, are the chased, the harassed who must daily stand before my enigmas and cannot solve them.
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
those who lack a spirit of cleverness.

Woe to the rich, and woe to the doubly rich in spirit!
Although nothing is impossible with God, it is difficult for the Spirit to move their fat hearts.

The poor are willing and easy to direct. Like little puppies they do not take their eyes from their master's hand to see if perhaps he may throw them a little morsel from his plate. So carefully do the Poor follow my promptings that they listen to the wind (which blows where it pleases), even when it changes. From the sky they can read the weather and interpret the signs of the times. My grace is unpretentious, but the poor are satisfied with little gifts.
~Hans Urs Von Balthasar; Heart of the World (Fort Collins, CO: Ignatius Press, 1980)

Morally deficient

Sometime last week, someone on the internet wrote in passing that depression was on the list of ailments that was associated with the morally deficient. Normal people get headaches, the morally deficient get depressed. Ain't that a peach?

Having experienced the pits of depression these past two winters, my doctor and I decided to treat the issue as if it were seasonal affective disorder, and two weeks ago I started taking a low dose of Wellbutrin which is an anti-depressant (and smoking cessation aid, I learned). The point of this is to blunt or avoid completely another winter nosedive. Depression entails a lot of collateral damage.

But let's talk about my morally deficient self. First of all, I don't know that I feel morally deficient. But I admit that since reading that little throw away line, I haven't been tempted to wear a t-shirt proclaiming the ever present specter of depression in my life.

Then again, my daughter's recent memory verse is Romans 3:23: "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." That's a universal accusation of moral deficiency if there ever was one. And in a recent famous interview of the new Pope when asked "Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?" answers, "I am a sinner." At the end of his elaboration on the point, he concludes,

"I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance."

 I find this summary very powerful. It allows me to accept my moral deficiency whether through depression or the lack of patience with my family or judgmental stance toward others. I don't need to pretend that my mess doesn't stink. It stinks. AND Jesus is mericful; I'm not thrown out because of my mess. AND Jesus is patient; he's not tapping his toe, looking at his watch as I fumble around trying to clean up. Instead, he is with me, the morally deficient, with me in love.

It is very uncomfortable to stop there as an American protestant. After Jesus loves me, I'm supposed to clean up my behavior, no? But what if I focused on the present risenness of Jesus in my life? On that infinite mercy and patience? And if my behavior cleans up, it does. And if it doesn't, it doesn't. But what I have done is to train myself to laser in on Jesus and whatever he does or does not do in my life.

Pulling it together

Well, I have to say that I am very thankful for my husband and friends who have been a great help and encouragement as I figure stuff out.

Logistics were wrapped up by the end of Wednesday. Instead of my father-in-law coming to help after my surgery my mother-in-law will be coming.

So the "Who is going to take care of the kids while I'm in surgery?" question fizzled out quickly, but it's a different thing getting ready for a father-in-law than a mother-in-law. So it took me another day or two to get myself ready for that notion.

As far as my dad being sick, that is its own very weird situation. For all intents and purposes, my dad feels like a really healthy guy, no different from last week. But preliminary tests say he's got a rare cancer. At this point, if he feels sick it's going to be because of the chemo. There's one more round of tests this week and then my parents get to survey their options and choose their next steps.

A sustaining idea in this time has been what Brennan Manning calls the "present risenness" of Jesus. Present meaning both now and near and risenness meaning having defeated death and fully alive. So while I was feeling crushed by stress, I had this beckoning sense that Jesus was near and trying to push through the anxiety. I could see light creeping around the edges of the folds of darkness. This idea that the loving creator of the universe stands near me with such power that death was broken has been a lifeline of hope when the worst of myself cries out to be believed.

At least their name isn't Nimrod

On gratitude:

Last weekend, a bunch of us grad students were talking about weird names so of course the names got weirder and weirder. But at some point, someone said, "At least their name isn't Nimrod." To which someone responded, "Um, you know your name is pretty bad when the only name worse is Nimrod." And that's definitely one way to look at things, but I'm wondering if gratitude hanging even on the slimmest of slivers is worth having.

The past few weeks I've been really stressed out, at an anxiety level that I haven't been in for a long time. Life just seemed like a noose getting tighter and tighter. I was juggling more than I knew how to handle when I was thrown a lifeline in this reminder:

Gratitude is attentive. When we are inwardly dissipated through busyness, obsession, addiction, mindlessness, and preoccupation with television, sports, gossip, movies and shallow reading, and so forth, we cannot be attentive to the gifts that arrive each day.
~ Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust

When I am stressed, I self-medicate by surfing the web to the point where I've read everything and I don't know what else to read. It's like a merry-go-round I don't know how to get off of. Manning suggests that gratitude is what throws the switch.

Honestly, I do have a lot on my plate. I do have to prepare for a conference in Denmark, but that conference is being funded by departments and divisions in a time of budget cuts. And I get to go with friends I like. Yes, I do have to edit my book chapters, but hey I have book chapters that are going to be in press and on shelves in a year. And yes, I am doing "spring" cleaning, but it's because I live in a world of plenty and have a vibrant life of the mind that spawns paper like magic dust bunnies. There are many, many uncertainties about the future, but I get to face them with a really great husband.

So for all my myopic moping of the last few weeks, I don't even have to resort to a comparative "At least my name isn't Nimrod." There's a wealth of wonder here already if I'd only pull my head out of my butt.