Category Archives: Sacred Mundane

For my communication class we have a “Fun Assignment” tossed in because our professor is a fan of movies.  The assignment is simply to watch a movie (from a list given in class) and reflect on the “Big Idea” or main message of the movie … so, as always, I share it with you. 🙂

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Tonight I watched (yes, for the first time) Dead Poet’s Society.  Somehow I had the movie all wrong and must have gotten it mixed up with another movie because I somehow thought it was about a bunch of black students from the inner city learning to appreciate poetry. I’m thinking I had it mixed up with Take the Lead or Glory Road or something.  At any rate, I was glad to finally see this movie.

The Big Idea was easy to spot—Carpe Diem: Seize the Day!  Professor Keaner gives us the key early on in the film and the rest of the movie develops how he uses creative teaching methods to help his students understand this crucial theme and how truly living this way can be costly. 

The movie challenges me because of the ways that it parallels the call to live for Christ.  On the first day of class Professor Keaner takes the boys out of the classroom and has them look, really look, at the photos of all the classes that came before them at Walton School, the pictures of the young men, just like them, who lived and had dreams, aspirations, vision.  And who died.  All of them died.  And their whisper was, according to Keaner, carpe diem! 

So as we read Scripture, as we read biographies of the men and women who have devoted themselves to the cause of Christ, what do they whisper?  What do we hear?  Do we hear them saying, “Just relax.  Hang out.  Don’t stress.  Have fun.” No!  Carpe Diem doesn’t mean seize the day by blowing it.  Carpe Diem means seize the day by making something of it!  And because our cause is Christ, carpe diem means seize the day by using every second of it for the Kingdom of God.
But what does that look like? Ah, this is now getting at the heart of what makes my heart beat faster, of what makes gives me drive for life and passion to do more and live better—the sacredness of the mundane.  The Sacredness of the Mundane is my passion.  Therefore, Carpe Diem means seize the sacred!  Seize all that you can in this day, today, right where you are at, surrounded by laundry and dinner and a toddler whining for his sippy cup with a poopy diaper and a runny nose. Seize the sacred! 

So how?  How do we live this way?  Brother Lawrence got it (Read Practicing the Presence of God), AW Tozer got it (Read The Pursuit of God), how can we get it?  Well this movie would say by not conforming to what everyone else thinks you should do but to be an independent, or “free” thinker.  Ok, that makes sense.  So what does Scripture say?  “Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”  In a sense, this movie is echoing Scripture, but we have a deeper understanding.  We don’t just want the mind of ourselves, we want the mind of Christ.  We don’t want to think like everyone else, unless they think like Christ.  He is our measuring rod.  He is our standard.  And when I’m seeking and striving to think like He thinks and love like He loves, I won’t put Him in a little box and try to tuck Him away neatly under my own control. 

The final thrust of the movie is this—living this way is costly.  For Neil, it cost him his life.  For Keaner, it cost him his job.  Would they both say it was worth it? You bet.  What did it cost Christ?  Everything. What does it cost us? Nothing less.

Right now I’m taking one of the most fascinating classes ever — Biblical Perspectives on Women in Ministry. Because I’m not done with the class I’ve been hesitant to post this–but I suppose as my view morphs I can just be honest about that and repost new thoughts.  This is my summary paper on the role of women in ministry based on the book Two Views of Women in Ministry (an excellent book!) which outlines the two views, Egalitarianism and Complementarianism, from four scholars.  You probably have to be somewhat familiar with the ongoing conversation in order to jump in, but hopefully if you at least read the sticky passages (1 Cor. 11:1-16; 1 Cor. 14: 34-37; 1 Tim. 2:9-15) you can get a picture of what all the fuss is about.  My thoughts (as you’ll see) are far from complete, but this is an attempt to connect the dots in my mind and land at a place where I can stand with conviction, at least for myself.  As you’ll see I haven’t even scratched the surface of the link between male/female roles and the roles within the members of the Trinity–that’s another whole topic I’m too timid to address.  I’d love to hear your thoughts …

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 I love to ballroom dance.  But as a woman, the hardest part of ballroom dancing is learning to follow, especially when you’re the more experienced or gifted dancer and the male lead is struggling to keep time or doesn’t necessarily display characteristics of wanting to lead.  I recently spoke with a seminary student who taught dance classes for years.  He said, “The hardest thing about teaching dance is getting the men to lead and the women to follow.”  Could this indicative of a greater malady?
This analogy is not biblical, but what does it tell us about our natural inability to function successfully within our God-given roles?  Or, perhaps the real questions is, are there God-given roles at all?  Here we are, two species, male and female, wholly distinct and completely equal, who are called to partner together in this grand dance for the Kingdom of God.  Does it matter who does what?  Can we switch places?  Is there more value in leading or following?  What does the Bible say?  In this brief essay we will examine two primary views with regard to this question: Egalitarianism and Complementarianism.  These two views are outlined by four biblical scholars (Linda L. Belleville, Craig L. Blomberg, Craig S. Keener, and Thomas R. Schreiner) in the book Two Views of Women in Ministry.  I will summarize and critique each of the four authors, then summarize my own view briefly at the end, concluding with unresolved issues with which I’m still wrestling. 
Linda L. Belleville:  Egalitarian
 Beginning in the beginning, Linda Belleville sees no hierarchical structure in the Genesis account, insisting that if the law of primogeniture were at work then the animals would have the prime role, not man.  She rightly points out that man alone was called “not good” but man + woman was called “very good” by God (30).  Belleville then goes on to highlight the gifts exercised and roles played by women throughout the Bible.  Miriam, Deborah, Huldah, Phoebe, and Priscilla stand out as significant.  She observes that women were patrons (or hosts) of house churches, prophets, teachers, deacons and overseers, although there is no clear instance of a woman overseer.  Belleville believes that Paul’s address to widows in 1 Tim. 5:9-10 was likely an address to female overseers or elders (62). 
 Belleville deals with 1 Corinthians 14:34-37 by looking to the cultural context and explaining that women, allowed to learn (which was revolutionary in that culture), were being disruptive in the corporate worship setting.  However, she argues that any group could be guilty of this, so the transferable principle has nothing to do with women per se, but has to do with being disruptive during church (75).  She sides with the Message’s reading of the passage which states: “Wives must not disrupt worship, talking when they should be listening, asking questions that could more appropriately be asked of their husbands at home.”  
 In 1 Timothy 2:9-15 Belleville stresses the word authentein, which is found nowhere else in the entire New Testament and only twice in the entire Greek Bible (82).  Her research has led her to believe it would translate “to dominate” rather than “ to exercise authority over” (86).  This would suggest that the error was not in women teaching or having authority, but in dominating or behaving in a domineering way (89). 
 With regard to the rigorous debate surrounding the meaning of head (kephale), Belleville follows the egalitarian viewpoint that defines this key word as “source” (100).  Because of this she sees that mutual submission is the order to be followed, with no restriction on the ministry roles of women (103). 
Craig L. Blomberg: Complementarian
 Craig Blomberg begins by admitting that a double standard has been shown toward women, allowing them to function as leaders on the mission field but not at home. He also asks the probing question about what is causing this new proposed change in our churches—a closer look at scripture or a desire to follow the trends of society (126)?
 Like Belleville, Blomberg begins his discussion in Genesis, highlighting the meaning of the word ezer.  It has been established by both sides that ezer means “helper” and does not signify an inferior person (129).  In fact, in the Hebrew Bible this term most frequently refers to God.  However, what Blomberg argues is that the common thread throughout all the contexts is that the ezer “comes to the aid of someone else who bears the primary responsibility for the activity in question” (130).  Therefore, he concludes that the term ezer certainly doesn’t suggest an inferior role, but rather one who aids the person who requires help.   
 Blomberg’s main point is the significant observation he makes of the entire Bible—women possess positions in every ministerial role except the one lead role of priest or elder.  In the Old Testament, women were prophets, judges, and helpers in the ministry. In the New Testament, women were hosts of house churches, intercessors, prophets, and deacons.  Women in both the New and Old Testament were gifted with a wide variety of gifts and abilities.  But Blomberg correctly observes that nowhere in the entire Bible are there examples of female priests or elders.  This, he would say, is telling.  In Blomberg’s opinion, it would have been easy for Jesus to change this if He had wanted to—He certainly had no trouble turning the social norm on its proverbial ear (145). 
  Blomberg sees the key issue of 1 Corinthians 11:1-16 as behaving in a way that is culturally appropriate, sending the right message to the unbelieving world.  His key distinction, with regard to women preaching is summed up on page 158: 
One could thus be completely faithful to 1 Corinthians 11:5 by allowing a woman to preach, while at the same time insisting that the elders of the local congregation all be men, and that her authority to preach is a delegated one, with the elder board as the ultimate body of human leaders to whom the entire church (preachers included) is accountable.

Blomberg admits that kephale can mean many different things, including head, source, and authority.  What he points out, however, is that there has never been a single instance where the singular form of the word kephale has ever not included some sense of authority (156).  So he would sum up that this passage confirms male headship while allowing women to exercise their spiritual gifts in an appropriate manner. 
 First Timothy 2:9-15 is in many ways the key passage to discuss.  Blomberg insists that Paul cannot mean for women to be completely silent because he’d be contradicting himself!  He understands this to mean that women should behave in a cooperative and caring manner.  With regard to teaching and having authority, Blomberg explains that this is not the forbidding of two separate actions, but that the two verbs work “together to define one specific function or role” (169).   He would call this role “authoritative teaching,” and goes on to observe that the overseer is the only ministry position who is called both to lead (oversee) and to be “able to teach” (3:2).  This is the immediate context of the passage, which makes good hermeneutical sense.  Blomberg therefore concludes, “the only thing Paul is prohibiting women from doing in that verse is occupying the office of overseer or elder” (170). 
Craig S. Keener: Egalitarian
 Keener begins with a broad overview of the various ministerial roles women have played throughout the scriptures.  Primarily as prophets, judges (we know of one), and “laborers in the Word”, we see the women have obviously served God and been used for His glory.  Keener highlights Junia, whose name is debatable but generally accepted as a female who is listed as notable “among the apostles” (Rom 16:7).  He concludes that she held the office of apostle, perhaps with her husband or brother Andronicus (214).  The most likely explanation, according to Keener, is that like Aquila and Priscilla, Junia and Andronicus were “ a husband-wife apostolic team” (216). 
 The 1 Corinthians 14:34-37 passage, according to Keener, is about learning in an appropriate manner.  He explains that while this might sounds repressive in our culture, the opposite was true in theirs.  Far from being restrictive, this passage simply provided guidelines for the newfound freedom to learn that women had in the Christian faith (228). 
 Keener insists that 1 Timothy 2:9-15 was a situation specific passage. He again mentions numerous verses where direct instructions are obviously situation specific, including the command to beware of Alexander the coppersmith (2 Tim 4) (234).  He acknowledges the significance of Paul’s reference to the Old Testament but points out the fact that this same technique is used in reference to head coverings in 1 Cor. 11:8-9.  He would conclude, therefore, that it is hermeneutically inconsistent to insist that this reference to creation can mean one thing in one context and another elsewhere (240).
 With regard to the issue of headship, Keener accepts the biblical text but explains that the correct emphases should be on mutual submission and servanthood.  He highlights the key reality: all are called to mutual submission but women are specified more explicitly; all are called to mutual love, but men are specified more explicitly (242).  This both and only sort of description seems appropriate to helping both genders understand how they are called simply to exhibit a Christlike characteristic, but Paul emphasizes different characteristics for the man and for the woman.  Further, Keener seems to be concluding that a form of male authority is the biblical model in the home, but not in the church (242). 
Thomas R. Schreiner: Complementarian
 Schreiner submits the most traditional viewpoint represented in this book.  He agrees with Blomberg on many points but remains more traditional.  He begins his discussion in a way unique to him, by addressing the historical and hermeneutical components of the argument before delving into the biblical evidence. He explains that the burden of proof rests on the shoulders of those who promote a new way of interpreting these difficult passages (i.e. Egalitarians).  Centuries of scholars, according to Schreiner, have read and understood a male-leadership model as biblical, therefore it is the role of the egalitarian to be able to prove, without doubt, that these interpretations have been wrong (267), especially since “the new interpretation follows on the heels of the feminist revolution in our society.” 
 A refreshing point from Schreiner is his argument that no single passages should be elevated beyond another, but that each should be read in its context and used appropriately within its setting.  For example, to elevate Galatians 3:28 or 1 Tim. 2:5-11 as the highest authority is erroneous.  They are from letters with completely different contexts, purposes, and recipients. Rather, each one should be weighed equally with regard to its context (269). 
 Schreiner also devotes time to discussing the importance of terms and understanding what we are truly arguing about.  For example, we may argue over women’s ordination, but in realty (as Belleville also pointed out) the true issue is whether women can fulfill the role of elder/overseer which we today would term “Pastor.”  Because of this, Schreiner narrows down his arguments to address this one key question:  “Are women called to function as pastors, elders, or overseers.”  His answer is no (271).
 Schreiner also gives a valuable overview of the way that God, in the Old Testament and through Jesus, displays the value and dignity of women.  A truly remarkable number of women are portrayed throughout the Bible.  Jesus often talked to, healed, ministered to, cared for, loved, and wept with women.  He loves them.  He was provided for (helped!) by women who supported him financially, and certainly didn’t find that below him or degrading.  He revealed Himself, in His resurrected body, first to women, and gave them the honor of declaring the good news.  So though He did not invite any to be in the inner twelve group of apostles, he certainly valued women (275).
 Schreiner takes issue with the egalitarian assertion that the gift of prophecy is the same as the New Testament role of teacher.  He sees prophecy as a “fresh revelation” whereas teaching is the communication of tradition and exposition from the Word of God.  He thinks the attempt to prove that women can teach just because they fulfill the role of prophet is to perform hermeneutical gymnastics and stretch the text (278). 
 As does Blomberg, Schreiner makes the distinction between gifts and offices in the church.  This seems to be a common thread throughout the complementarian arguments.  While Schreiner explains that naturally men and women will be gifted in the same manner with the spiritual gift of teaching, there is a distinction in the way that this gift should function.  He sees that nowhere in scripture is it said that women should fulfill the office of a pastor who regularly teaches the congregation (279).  Again, Schreiner draws the line, albeit a bit fuzzily, at a “regular teacher”, insisting that just because Priscilla instructed Apollos in a private matter on a single occasion certainly does not imply that she filled a pastoral teaching position (280). 
Kari Patterson: Complementary Egalitarianism (!)
 Each author presents a valuable perspective that helped shape and develop my position on this matter.  In my opinion, the Egalitarianisms drew some conclusions that seemed hermeneutically and logically erroneous and discredited their scholarship.  For example, in the Genesis discussion, Belleville discusses the 3:16 reference to a woman’s desire for her husband:  Belleville believes this refers to a physical desire in the context of intimacy (a common sense objection here would be Sarah Sumner’s interjection—“How realistic is that?!”).  She does not think that it can be compared to the use of the term in 4:7 because there sin was likened to a lion, which wants to eat, not rule, Cain (33).  However, this is a comparison.  Desire is like a lion, not a lion.  Her conclusion, therefore, is not valid because she’s dealt erroneously with the text. 
 I also found unconvincing her insistence that women were the leaders of the house churches just because they hosted the church in their homes.  It is a huge stretch, in my opinion, to think that just because a group meets at a person’s house that that person is necessarily the leader.  Many of the home groups in our church are hosted by people who don’t shepherd or oversee them. 
Finally, her use of 1 Tim. 5 to defend the view of women as elders was borderline fantastical.  The passage is clearly speaking of the age of eligible widows, and has nothing to do with church office in the context.  This strikes me as a clear example of hermeneutical eisogesis to the nth degree.
 Of the four authors, I would stand in the camp with Craig L. Blomberg who refers to himself a the most egalitarian of complementarians.  I prefer Complementary Egalitarian!  I agree wholeheartedly with his findings and conclusions.  He sees the distinction of office, not gifting, and would allow a woman to teach, as long as she is not fulfilling the office of overseer or teaching elder.  I understand this is a subtle distinction, but it seems the only way to reconcile the various passages with honesty and integrity.  The fact that throughout Scripture, the two primary leadership ministerial roles (priest and overseer in the OT and NT respectively) were reserved only for men is significant.  There is absolutely no biblical evidence given for women filling those roles.  I agree that many of the passages surrounding the restrictions put on women were given within a situation specific context.  However, when we consider the totality of scripture—woman as ezer, male priesthood, warnings toward women in authority, male headship in marriage, and the emphasis on wifely submission, it seems obvious that there is something going on with regard to God’s desire for order within the body of Christ.  No distinctions with regard to gifting or value, distinctions with regard to office—that seems the conclusion that is truest to the totality of God’s Word. 
 With that said, I would note that I see this in now way hindering women.  To the contrary, as John Eldredge has stated in Captivating: “Issues of headship and authority are intended for the benefit of women, not their suppression” (211).  In my marriage, I consider my husband the head and leader.  He uses this weighty responsibility to bless me, serve me, and promote me daily.  Yes, men throughout history have misused this authority.  Men have abused, perverted, and exploited this right.  They have used their strength for selfish gain.  But just because it has been misused does not make the model wrong.  Just because sex has been perverted and distorted through its misuse does not make it wrong!  Sex is still a glorious, God-glorifying, and marvelous act when used correctly. It is the same with gender roles within the church.  Yes, they have been misused, but that does not mean we throw them out.  We use our unique roles to bless each other, and most importantly to glorify God.  It is all about Him. It is not about our rights, not even about what we can and cannot do. 
 I’m still contemplating some of the issues raised, wondering how they bear weight in this issue.  For one, no one brought up the fact that we only have an example of Priscilla teaching alongside her husband.  What does that mean?  We don’t have a single biblical example of a woman teaching a mixed group by herself.  Is there a reason for this?  And is it possible that the two most prominent New Testament women ministered with their husbands (Junia and Priscilla)?  What about Phoebe?  If it is important for women to minister with the covering of their husbands, what does this mean for single women? 
The only other real question that lingers in my mind is the issue of whether a woman can be a regular teacher of the Scriptures in a church setting (as Sarah Sumner and Barbara Feil do in their churches).  And, if not, why is that different than an academic setting?  Is it possible to be a regular teacher without fulfilling the office of teaching elder?  I think it is, but why would I feel comfortable teaching a coed class at my church but not a sermon on Sunday morning?  Perhaps there is an important distinction, but I’m not sure what it is at this point.  I currently have no problem with a woman teaching in any setting (and I’m so thankful for my female seminary professors!), but would not support a woman fulfilling the role of lead pastor/elder. 
In closing, I would once more emphasize that I believe men and women have equal gifting and distinct roles.  Just because I cook dinner and Jeff does the dishes does not mean that one of us is more valuable than the other (we’d be in trouble if I let him cook!).  We are both made in the image of God, gifted, loved, valued beyond measure, and given distinct roles to play both in the home and in the body of Christ.  Some of these roles overlap, some do not.  Some are not clearly defined and are thus open for interpretation.  My husband would echo the sentiments of Blomberg who said, “ the principle of male headship [should] take every possible step to demonstrate to a watching world how loving and self-sacrificing it can be.”  May we, men and women, take every possible step to demonstrate how loving and self-sacrificing we can be to each other.  Let us, women, respect the men in our lives.  Let men value and love women.  We are broken, fallen people, but we can work together to perform this dance for the Kingdom of God, displaying His beauty and glory to a dying world.  This is my goal and aim as a Complementary Egalitarian. 
 

I am such a homebody.  It’s no wonder that Dutch is too.  He can only sleep well in his own bed.  When we’re traveling or out and about with a busy day, he just gets all out of whack.  But the moment we’re home, he’s happy, relaxed — he eats well, sleeps well.  He’s just a homebody like his mommy.

This week is Spring Break.  And amazingly, all our our activities are on break this week.  No seminary classes, no Foundations class at church, no Cornerstone classes in Corvallis, no TA papers to grade, and no tutoring for Jeff in Gervais.  It’s a break–a real break.  And mom and dad are leaving tomorrow morning for Salt Lake City to visit Kris and Nikki, so we have a five days home by ourselves with nowhere we have to go.  Ahhh…can it be true?!  This morning I woke early with a splitting headache (I think I’ve discovered that my head is a place of precarious balance.  And this is related to my being a homebody to the core.  When I am in a routine, getting good sleep, eating healthily, and relatively calm, I am headache free. But as soon as you toss in a plate of mashed potatoes, white bread, chocolate cake, and a fabulously fun family extravaganza (read: Easter), my body decides that the teetering balance if off and will therefore throw me a headache.)  At any rate, when I woke with a headache, I got up and realized I had a glorious option in front of me–taking tylenol and going back to bed!  No class, no needing to get my quiet time in before Dutch got up because of the busyness of the day ahead.  And so I did, sleeping in longer than I have since Dutch was born–8:20!  And because my son is such a homebody, when he’s in his own crib, he will sing or talk to himself contentedly in the morning until I go in and get him.  So we started our day off with a great night’s sleep.  Then we all had breakfast together.  Jeff and I cuddle on the couch watching Dutch play until 9am, relishing the fact that we could.  THen we all took a long walk together, going down to the river, talking, praying, talking some more.  After that it was bathtime–leisurely letting Dutch splash and play while we talked and watched.  Before we knew it it was lunch time, and a delicious zucchini, brown rice, and chicken meal tasted heavenly and nutritious.  Now Dutch is in his crib or a nap and Jeff and I are savoring the pleasure of reading and working on seminary homework, working side by side doing what we love.  I’ve vowed not to wear makeup all week, and not to leave the house if I can help it.  My headache is gone.  I’m caught up on laundry and somehow all things are in balance.  Ahhh…Spring Break.  Thank You, Lord, for the wisdom of taking seasons for rest.  You’re so smart. 

There is something about Corvallis.  This weekend Jeff and I spent a whirwind two-day weekend in Corvallis where he performed a wedding for a long-time friend.  Some things never change.  I just can’t help it–I think Corvallis will always be home to me. 

 Corvallis is where I really started walking with the Lord, 18-years-old and too skinny, rooming with my dear friend Janae.  Naive beyong belief, hanging out at frat parties, asking half-drunk frat guys, “Do you love Jesus?”  Oh how God protected me.  McNary dorm, 6th floor, where we started a little make-shift Bible study with the other girls down the hall, most of which weren’t believers, not because we “should” but because we were just so preciously clueless we didn’t know enough to attend a campus ministry but we wanted to love Jesus and wanted other people to too!  Campus Villa apartments, where we did a weekly Bible study with our brothers, Jeremy and Kris, and their friends, studying everything from the rapture to dating.    The ultra-ghetto house on 5th street where Janae and I took over my brother’s rent when he graduated, sharing a room the size of a closet, in a house with a bunch of older guys (what were we thinking?) who drank a lot but protected and looked out for us like burly older brothers.  Campus Crusade for Christ, where I first saw this frat guy emceeing and thought, “My mom would probably want me to marry a guy like that.”  His name was Jeff Patterson. I wasn’t interested. 

Corvallis is where I graduated from college, went on staff with my church’s college ministry, and discovered Jeff again for the first time.  This time he was funny and handsome and loved God so much it intrigued me.  Real Life, where we were trained and mentored and discipled.  Where we baptized and led people to Christ, saw lives changed, and gave every ounce of ourselves to the college students in the ministry. 

Corvallis is where Jeff and I fell in love, dated, got engaged.  Where we bought our first house, giddily taking the keys and painting walls the night before we moved, sipping sparkling cider and walking through the rooms dreaming of how we’d make it our own. 

I lived in Corvallis 6 years and Jeff 8, but what strikes me is that I feel most known there.  We step foot in the church office and instantly we see at least half a dozen people jump up to greet us, eyes lighting up, hugs all around.  Today I went to Red Horse, the little coffee shop that was my home away from home — where Darcy would meet me for discipleship times, where I spent innumerable hours meeting with college girls talking about God.  As I walked in this morning John, the owner, instantly ran over and gave me a huge hug and kiss on the top of my head.  He demanded I tell him all about life and Dutch and what was going on — even though I’d not been in there in over a year.   I couldn’t help but hum the Cheers song for the rest of the day, “You wanna be where everybody knows your name.”

I supposed Corvallis is so precious to me because of the rich history there.  I feel like I can just be.  I don’t have to prove myself, don’t have to peform, don’t have to try to fit in.  It’s just right. I guess in that way I can’t help but describe it as anything other than home.  I don’t know where we’ll end up — probably many places. I am content being wherever God leads us.  By choice home is wherever my boys are.  But they’ll always be a place inside that that finishes the song, Sweet Home Cor-vallis.  It’s just the way it is. 

Today we celebrate Good Friday.  In a free moment today between taking Dutch for his 15-month check-up, getting a tetanus shot (how did 12 years go by so fast?), ironing Jeff’s shirts, putting Dutch down for a nap, finishing the laundry, and packing our bags for a weekend in Corvallis, I sat down and asked God to help me contemplate Good Friday.  With a day this busy, I didn’t want to blink and realize the day was gone without remembering what the day is all about.  But why good Friday.  Germans call this day “mourning Friday” (in German of course), and some think perhaps Good Friday came from God’s Friday, the same way that goodbye came from God be with you.  But whatever the reason, Good Friday has stuck.  Of all Fridays each year, this one is designated as good.

But how can it be good?  What strikes me about its name is how paradoxical and perfect it is at the same time.  We call it good because we know about Sunday.  We know that the day after tomorrow is Sunday, and so we know that Jesus rises, we know that our sins are forgiven, we know that sin, death, and the grave have been conquered and we will live eternally with God in glory if we put our faith in Jesus’ finished work on the cross.  Hallelujah! 

But consider just for another moment what this means for us today, what this means for our perspective.  I can guarantee that Peter, John, Mary, those who watched Jesus, didn’t think it was good.  Jesus, disfigured from beatings, strips of open, oozing, flesh hanging from his tattered back, stumbling with exhaustion, pain, and dehydration.  Jesus, their hope, their only hope crucified like a crook right in front of their eyes.  Jesus was their only hope.  They’d given their lives to follow Him.  They’d left their livelihood, believed His words, trusted in His promises.  Jesus, God made man, perfect, holy, righteous, subjected to a torment fit for the worst of sinners.  They did not think it was good.

Good Friday is good because of we know the end of the story.  Why could Jesus subject Himself to the torture of the cross, bearing the full wrath of God poured out on Him for the sake of a world who had rejected Him?  Because He knew the end of the story.  It didn’t make the pain any less real.  The anguish was the same, but He endured because of the joy set before Him (Heb 12).  Fifteen months ago, when my water broke, I was excited to go to the hospital.  I was knowingly headed toward the worst pain I have ever experienced in my entire life, but I entered into it gladly because I knew the end of the story (or at least hoped–trusting I’d have a healthy baby).  I knew that the pain was worth it because of baby Dutch.  The pain accomplished a far more glorious end.  It didn’t make it any less painful, and I’m still not quite ready to have another baby (!), but as any mom can attest–it’s well worth it.

The example is weak because in giving birth the end result is so clear, so vivid.  But in life our pain is so much more confusing, and emotional pain is world’s worse than physical pain.  I am still haunted by the death of my friend Sara Stokes, who was taken to be with the Lord at just 25 years of age last June.  Just yesterday I ran into her dad, and after hugging him, my whole being ached in tasting just a drop of the unfathomable grief he must daily encounter.  Ron Hordichok’s family, with open and raw wounds still from his sudden death … I can’t even fathom the pain and loss.

So the question is the same. How can it be good?  In The Hawk and the Dove right now, Father Peregrine is going through unimaginable suffering.  At times I want to quit reading because it just seems too much.  Too horrid. Too unthinkable.   How can it be good?  It only scratches the surface of what Christ suffered, and yet somehow we call it good.  Because of what it accomplished.  Because we know the end of the story.

What is the end of our story?  We don’t know the short-term end. We don’t know if our sick parent will live, if our wayward child will return, if our sorrow will be relieved.  But we do know that Christ has said, “Behold, I make all things new.”  We know the end of our story.  We know that He wipes every tear from our eye, creates a new heaven and and a new earth, and that we will live for eternity with Him.  The end of our story was accomplished on that day so long ago that we can accurately call Good Friday. 

I always wonder when I go to a retreat and have some awesome spiritual experience, Is this the real thing or just some spiritual high?  It’s not uncommon to come back from a retreat levitating, hovering above the ground of common life, only to get in your car and get stuck in traffic, or arive home to whiny children, or open the mail and find an overdue cell phone bill, which somehow seems to crumble your little spiritual tower of peace into shambles. 

Well, I thought of this too, with regards to all that God did (See Amazing Grace (my chains are gone)).  Was it the real thing or just a retreat high?  Monday we hit the ground running, and after an insanely busy Sunday and a hectic Monday morning (including Dutch’s explosive save-it-up-for-days poop), we arrived at Multnomah for our 10-hour day of class.  Now school is probably the place where I feel the most free, interestingly enough.  I genuinely love being there and dont’ think I’ve ever not looked forward to going to class.  But looking back I still realize that there were a lot of ways I was bound by those chains.  Telling myself I shouldn’t speak up in class because what if people thought I was showing off or trying to get attention.  Being afraid of saying something dumb, or at least “unprofound” in my comment.  Trying to be meek and quiet by abaonding my own personality.  But this Monday was different. Yes, it was true.  Unwittingly I had a bounce in my step.  When our visiting professor asked for volunteers willing to look silly and do a funny communication game in the front of the class, I found my hand up in the air — why not?  It was so fun!  When I had a question or comment, I just said it, rather than overanalyzing it to death. Now that doesn’t obviously mean that I dominated discussions or just spouted off every thought–please don’t think that’s what I’m saying. But what I’m saying is that I didn’t filter my actions through the fear filter.  I just lived. 

But the real test is Tuesdays.  Some of you probably read my depths-of-despair blog from a few months back about “stupid Tuesdays” and how much stress I was feeling.  A lot of my fear/chains/anxiety was centered around feelings at church. NOT because of the church as if it was their fault in any way, but through a couple of situations I’d somehow felt that people thought we were just seeking some position or status, and so I let myself be chained by worrying about what other people thought, and obsessing over “doing it right”.  Besides that, I felt like we didn’t belong or fit in right, so I tried to figure out how to make it all fit.  It was like walking around in size 7 shoes–close, but not quite right. 

So tonight, without even knowing it, I got ready for Jeff’s class in anticipation–joyful expectation.  Instead of being worried about people thinking we’re too young or judging our motives, I was just excited to be with God’s people and be me.  I dressed like I wanted to dressed.  And I haven’t felt that kind of joy in church in SO LONG.  I realized, I was me!  I enjoyed people like never before because I was thinking about them, instead of somehow worrying about whether I was measuring up or not. During class, Jeff asked me to share about a sermon I’d recently shared in seminary, and I did, joyfully and enthusiastically and happily, without saying “You better act meek and only say two sentences or less because people will think you’re trying to get attention.”  What ridiculousness!  Instead, I let the words flow from a free and enthusiastic heart.  After class, I went around to find different people to talk to, enthusiastically greeting them, instead of cowering in a corner with Dutch, wanting to be quiet little Kari who shouldn’t draw too much attention.  Anyway, it may all sound like small things–but they were huge things in my heart.  And you know what–I felt like I belonged more tonight than ever before! I didn’t feel like an outsider, I felt right at home, with people I could simply love and with whom I could give my whole free self and not worry about what they thought. 

I know–most of you probably learned all these lessons in middle school, huh?  My dad said he learned this when he was 19.  Well, I’m a little slow in the maturity department.  Maybe I’m going through spiritual puberty–no, that sounds too weird.  More like a baby bird learning to fly.  Whatever it is, I think it’s the real thing.  And I’m glad. 

… When brethren dwell together … or families.  Tonight I just have to say that I’m so thankful for living with Mom and Dad.  Yes, I know — you think I’m schizophrenic.  I know I’ve devoted an inordinate amount of real estate on this blog to whining about the woes of multi-generational living, but the truth of the matter is, I’m thankful in a million genuine ways.  For example, the amazing, wonderful, life-changing prayer retreat that Jeff and I were so privileged to go to.  How do you think that was possible?  Because my parents were willing to give up their three days to take care of our son, including driving out twice to the remote retreat center where we stayed, once so that I could nurse Dutch and then at the end so that we could get Dutch and hurry over the mountain to Bend without backtracking.  Yes, they did this–exhausting themselves and their gas tank, so that we could do that prayer retreat. While we were worshipping and soaking up the presence of the Lord, they were wiping Dutch’s poopy bottom (although it is such a cute poopy bottom!), and sleeping next to the monitor so they coud hear every whimper at night.  Saints.  Yes, they are saints. 

Then, after a quick recovery over the weekend, Monday rolled around and it was once again their turn with the Dutcher.  This morning, just minutes before Jeff and I were racing out the door, Dutch pooped one of his I’ve-been-saving-this-up-for-days poops, which wound up everywhere from his armpits to his knees somehow.  We quickly wiped him down, turned on the bathwater, and handed our naked little sleepy-headed boy over to mom and dad to begin their 12-hour day of Dutch duty.  As we drove to class, I just had to marvel at how thankful I was.  If it were not for them, I could not get a seminary education.  There is no way we could make this all work.  Yes, their house, garage, and shop is absolutely teeming with all of our stuff.  Yes, there are a few too many of us living in close quarters. Yes, we’re all looking forward to the day when we have at least a few miles between us.  But for now, we are making some memories we will never forget.  The days of Dutch escaping from my dad during diaper changes and running around the house naked, then squatting in the corner of the wood floor and pooping (yes, he did that!).  The days of Dutch obsessed with playing outside, to the point that whenever a reference to “outside” was made, he’d grab his shoes and go stand by the door like a puppy.  The days of letting Dutch sit in the driver’s seat of the Jeep for 45 minutes at a time while he made motor noises, kicking his legs in sheer contentment.  The days of Dutch going for walks “by himself” pushing away Papa’s hand from helping him, exploring the grass and flowers and rocks and bugs.  Yes, it’s a crazy adventurous season, but I’m so thankful.

So, thanks Mom and Dad, for all your help.  How about taking next week off (spring break) — you can escape to Salt Lake City where Kris lives and actually get some rest! 🙂

Ahhhhh … it’s so good to be with you again!  Many of you probably didn’t even know I was gone, but Jeff and I just returned from a 3 day prayer retreat.  We’re now snuggled in over in Bend, visiting Jeff’s mom, and after a much-needed hot shower, a delicious dinner (Jeff’s mom is my favorite cook in the world), and a bit of a difficult time getting Dutch to sleep, I had this rush of anticipation as I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and sneaked away into our bedroom.  Finally–alone with … you!  Yes, it is true.  I love this blog that much.  And, I have learned in the last few days — that is wonderful!   John Piper’s son, who has a blog featuring only 22 words each day (some of you wish my blog were that brief!) boldly asserts that he blogs because he enjoys it, and we don’t take that pure sort of enjoyment seriously enough.  Well, that is true of me too.  I enjoy, deeply enjoy, writing and being with you.  And, as opened my laptop and scanned my emails, I found perhaps one of the most encouraging emails I have ever read … from you.  From you, a precious reader who I have never met, whose words have convinced me that sharing my thoughts and journey here, though ugly at times, is valuable.  Thank you for that letter.  You know who you are and you’ve blessed me profoundly.

So, we’re back!  Three days spent at a Christian Retreat Center with twenty other men and women from seminary who set aside this time to simply request, “Lord, teach us to pray.” 

I hesitate to even begin to try to express what God has done these past 3 days.  In some ways it feels too personal, like telling a stranger about making love with your spouse.  In some ways it feels too profound, too enormous to try to sum up in some neat little package to share.  But, perhaps some little nugget of it will be valuable.

First of all, God had me wrecked before I even went to the retreat, which proves that the key factor in transformation is not a retreat, it’s God. As I progressed through The Hawk and the Dove, I read a chapter with a story surrounding Holy Poverty, and what it truly meant for the Benedictine (I mispoke earlier, they are Benedictine monks) to practice the discipline of poverty, as a means of following Christ.  In the story, Abbot Peregrine (the main character) is having an ongoing conversation with a well-intentioned friend who is criticizing the Abbot’s insistence on such a brutally low standard of living for himself and his brothers.  The friend’s critique is that poverty simply means renouncing ownership, dressing in simplicity, and to say of nothing “this is mine.”  But, he insists, certain pleasures are simply the bounties of God’s immense kindliness, for there must be some pleasure in life!  The line that grabs me is this: 

—

His friend says, “Moderation! You ask too much! Your self-imposed penury is not holy poverty.  It is like the poverty of the world.  It is …” 

“Too must like the real thing, you mean?” Abbot Peregrine interjects wryly. 

—-

Too much like the real thing.  Too much like the real thing.  Am I bothered by believers who are too much like the real thing?  As I read the dialogue between these two men, I could identify with the friend much more than with the Abbot.  The Abbot was the real thing. Practiced the real thing.  Perhaps not all are called to poverty in following Christ.  But can we at least, if we are called to something, do it genuinely?  The friend’s plea was moderation!  Moderation.  Moderation.  While I believe all things in moderation is a great plan to follow in dietary habits, it is nowhere given as a prescribed manner of living for Christ.  In fact as I consider it, my stomach turns when I realize how much of my life is lived in the sickly bed of Christian moderation.  I want just enough of God, but not enough mean anything drastic for my life.

So this is the state of my heart before the retreat. I couldn’t sleep the night before.  All I wanted to do was repent of my sick state of selfish moderation. My heart that is honestly more concerned with having a nice house, enough money, people who admire and like me and think I’m godly but not too crazy, health insurance, and a successful comfortable life.  Even as I write those words it makes me feel sick in my stomach.  How on earth can I have those values, truly in my heart those values, and call myself a Christian–a follower of Christ.  How can I call myself a Christian if my life has no semblence whatsoever to His?  Please don’t get me wrong — this is not a sad depressing state to be in.  For the first time in a long time I felt alive.

So we arrived after a crazy day of attack.  The brakes went out on our car, Dutch got sick and was puking, and I almost got in a car wreck driving home from class.  But by 6pm Dutch was on the mend, we had new brakes in the car (and less money in the bank:-)), and we were driving to the retreat. 

The retreat itself was amazing.  I think I will save much of what happened to put upcoming posts.  But we opened with some prayer and worship, led out by whoever had a song on their heart.  Amazing Grace was sung by someone who’d been in a severe car accident that literally sliced off half of his body.  He now only has one arm and one leg, and is a walking (sort of walking) miracle.  After singing, we shared stories of amazing grace.  You know you think you know people, but you don’t.  For privacy I won’t share their stories, but Jeff and I sat back shaking our heads in amazement at God.  Amazing grace.

Thursday, we spent much time alone in prayer, then came together in the afternoon and watched Chris Tomlin’s How Great is our God tour video, featuring Louis Giglio speaking on the miracle of the universe and of human life.  Afterwards we all sang along with Chris Tomlin’s Amazing Grace (my chains are gone). 

My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.  My God, My Savior, has ransomed me.  And like a flood, His mercy reigns. Unending love, amazing grace.

Thursday night we had a communion table set up, and a “prayer chair” set up in front, open for anyone who wanted to come confess of sin or seek prayer from the group.  Within 5 seconds I was surprised to see Jeff, who’d been quiet and reserved for most of the retreat, get up and go sit in the chair.  He prayed and repented of being so anxious over our future, what we’re going to be doing, of buckling under the pressure of needing to be “successful”.  He poured out his heart expressing his desire to trust God and follow the path laid out for us, even without knowing what it is.  People began to surround Jeff, and I knelt down at his feet and could feel the tears flowing down my cheeks, the words of repentence feeling like they were being wrenched out of the very depths of my being.  I choked them out, “I repent here, with my husband, for my anxiety over the future, of being so scared and unsure.”  I shook as the tears poured down my cheeks.  Dozens of hands rested on our backs and shoulders as the group surrounded us.  In the next ten minutes of prayer, I think I have never felt so loved in all my life.  Every word, every prayer, was God’s loving and tender arms expressing his love, his approval, his pleasure in us.  One woman said, “God is so proud of you” over and over. That broke my heart, because I realized that I had felt for so long that somehow Jeff and I just didn’t quite measure up, compared to the success of others around us.  While others are off with directed, well-put-together lives, we were struggling to manage part-time jobs and seminary and parenthood, interning at a church where we don’t get paid.  That’s how it felt.  And all of a sudden I realized that this anxiety had me chained.  Chained by trying too hard. Chained by trying to be what I thought people wanted me to be or what I thought I should be. Chained by trying to make all the pieces fit into the life I somehow thought I was supposed to have.  I guess you could say God just turned my vision upside down. 

And I realized that at this retreat, I was free in a way that I’ve not been in along time.  I was my true, free, joyful self.  I was so free from self-consciousness there.  I played the djembe with my heart and soul, something I’ve neglected to do ever since leaving Corvallis.  I realized that I’ve neglected things, like playing the djembe, because I’m so afraid people will judge my motives or think that I’m just trying to get attention.  So instead of letting God use my passion for playing, I hide it away in fear.  As I contemplated this, I had let two encounters put that root in my heart.  Small things–but I had let the enemy use them to make me cower in fear. First, when I was pregnant, someone said to my mom, “You better tell Kari to beware because as soon as that baby’s born everything’s not going to be about her anymore.”  I know it was meant to be a joke, but it struck me as a slap in the face because all I could think was, “Do people really think that I want things to be all about me?”  Yuck.  Yes, as a human I am focused on myself, but as a pregnant mom the last thing in the entire world that I’m craving is for things to revolve around me. It made me sick, and the thought plagued me–do people see me as trying to get attention?  Then, last summer Jeff and I attended a certain church service where we love and know the pastor very well.  As he referred to something, he said, from the pulpit, “Jeff and Kari, it’s not all about you this time.”  I sat there in my seat stricken.  What?  Did he or people there think that we were somehow there for us?   We were attending to show support for our family.  Because I was already in a vulnerable place, the passing comment devestated me.  And I know these were such small little incidences, but the reason they’ve plagued me is that I DID used to be like that, and would continue to be like that but for the grace of God.  That’s why I absolutely cringe if someone jokes about how my friend Megan and I used to dance on tables at our high school dances.  It makes me want to run to my room and cry, because I WAS like that.  But I’m not anymore.  And I don’t take it lightly.  The idea of wanting to get glory and attention on myself literally makes my stomach turn, and so somehow, in the last year, because of this, I’ve let myself somehow believe that I shouldn’t do anything that would draw attention to myself or be “visible” in any way because people will think that I just want attention.  And oh how I’m so scared of being misunderstood!  I don’t want the glory, the attention. Yes, that is probably my sinful default mode, but I don’t live in that now.  I just want to be alive again.  When I think back to experiences with speaking, acting, playing the djembe, dancing.  I would no more do those things right now than fly, because somehow I’ve gotten in my mind that I’m just an “attention seeker.”  But this is a lie. Yes, of course I can fall prey to that sin, and it’s not an “all or nothing” type of thing, but just because something can make us vulnerable to sin doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it!  Pastors who preach the gospel are vulnerable, but they should preach! 

But at this retreat, something happened.  My chains were broken.  The first night, a student from Rwanda, pulled out a djembe and started playing.  Now our professor had told us that we should bring any instruments that we play so that we can use them for worship. So Jeff said, “make sure you take your djembe.” ANd what did I say?  Of course. “No, I don’t want to play.”  Of course I want to play!  Of course I want to play!  That was the stupidest lie of the century, but that is what I’d bought. So this student pulled out his drum the first night and I realized then what I’d been doing.  Chained up because of a fear that people would think I was seeking attention.  So afterwards, with sweaty palms and my heart racing, I casually started a conversation with him about how Africans and Brasilians play a different beat.  “You play?”  He asked.  “A little.” I said.  He broke into a huge grin–“You play next time!”  He insisted.  And I did. In fact I played the rest of the retreat. A little rusty, but I played with all my heart, I played with the passion that I had missed for so long. I could feel God’s Spirit resting on me.  I could sense Him letting me loose of the chains I’d had.  And as the retreat progressed I realized that Kari, the true Kari, the free and fun and true Kari was slowly coming alive again, slowly laying down chain link by chain link.  I realized that I am not an attention-seeker any more than someone who came out of a life of drugs is currently a drug addict.  Yes, I am suseptible to that the same way the past drug addict is.  Yes, they can fall into that sin, but that is not their current identity.  I love my Lord Jesus and want to be used in any way shape or form, whether that is in a spotlight, in the shadows, in the privacy of my home with my precious son, or in a public arena.  Either one, any way, and all of the above. I want whatever God has, without fearing what people think.

My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.  My God, My Savior, has ransomed me.  And like a flood, His mercy reigns. Unending love, amazing grace.

I’m free for what?  For a life of radical devotion to Christ.  Lord, change my dreams.  Pull me from the sickly bed of moderation.  Give me radical love, radical faith.  Help me to live here, in the trenches, away from mountaintop retreat experiences, with the same freedom that You gave me there.  Change us, God.  Help us to live as Christ-followers, freed from the chains that bind.  We love You, our precious Lord.  Thank You for Your amazing grace.

—

PS  I lay awake in bed last night thinking about this post, and realized, once again–that again the problem lies in pride. Humility, again, is the answer. A truly humble person would say, “Who cares of people think that I’m trying to get attention? My job is to please God alone and it’s not about me anyway.  My worth and identity is not based on what others think of me.”  But of course, I am not that truly humble person. I do still care what others think of me, far too much.  My plea is that God would let my heart be pure before Him and He’d give me the humility and grace to seek to please Him alone. Once again, the key is … humility. 

I don’t pray, “Lord, give me a home.” I pray, “Lord, be my home.”