Compassion

Hey everyone!

Ok, before I say anything about anything, I just want to freak out for a second, BECAUSE I GOT INTO LUTHER FOR FALL 2012.

The application process took about three months longer than we thought it would, but I finally got my acceptance letter, and I am SO excited about the future.

Alright, so. Lent.

Here's the update so far: We're two weeks in, and I think I'm doing pretty well with some of my goals, and kind of poorly with other ones. First off, I've been trying to devote more time in my week to prayer and study, and I feel like that's getting done, although I've been failing at going to bed before 1am on Saturday nights, as I had planned. I've been keeping a running tally of the nights I want to go out to buy junk food, and have been allocating money for charity instead, and at first that seemed like it was working, but then I felt like that wasn't really getting me anywhere, so I've upped the ante, and am now keeping track of any time I eat junk food, period, and counting that way. And last weekend, Neil, one of my roommates, asked if I was going to church in the morning, in a way that made me think he was interested, and I said yes, but couldn't get up the nerve to say "you could come with me, if you want!" until the next morning. I told him he'd be welcome to come with any time, so we'll see if that happens!

I'm still looking at different churches up here in Minneapolis. I haven't found anything that feels like home yet, though I keep getting reminded of C. S. Lewis' words in The Screwtape Letters about the dangers of becoming "a connoisseur of churches."

But enough about goals and the never-ending to-do list in my brain.

One of the things I've been concentrating on this Lenten season is compassion. I joined a book group that runs throughout the weeks up until Easter at Grace Lutheran, which is the University of Minnesota campus church, and we're reading a book called "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life," by Karen Armstrong. The group itself is enough to keep me coming back, even if I didn't enjoy the book, which I do. Most of the people who are in this group are middle aged or retired, and it's so wonderful to fill this gap in my life with people who are older and wiser than I am. Sometimes it hits me just how surrounded I am with people my own age, and I miss the opportunity to connect with people who are in a different part of life. There are also a few married couples, and I always appreciate their insight, because they have a wealth of experience with relationships, and I learn so much just by listening to them.

So far we've talked about what compassion is, the major theories and theology associated with it, what it's looked like in history across cultures, how to bring it into the home and work-place, and, most recently, how to be compassionate with ourselves. Last week, when we started talking about that last one, almost everyone in the group admitted that being compassionate with themselves was the thing they found most difficult. This surprised me at first, because I feel, personally, that I'm too easy on myself in a lot of ways. I thought it was much harder to be compassionate with the people who really anger me than it was to be compassionate towards myself, but since Wednesday I've rethought my position.

I've been having a lot of issues with self-image in the last couple of months, mostly due to the winter chubbiness that we Minnesotans are so prone to, but it's been exacerbated by the fact that I'm working what is essentially a desk job, and spending too much of my extra time on the computer. I don't like the way I've been feeling physically, but I'm also pretty defeatist about my ability to change. All of that together has been breeding some intense self-loathing, but it wasn't until this past week that I began to see it for what it is. The problem itself is caused, partially, by being too wrapped up in my ego and my own problems, but that doesn't mean that it's not something that's meaningful to me. I didn't realize that I was capable of being compassionate and gentle with myself until my friend Ariel said "take care of yourself, please," and for just a second I saw myself through her eyes.

I realized that if she was feeling badly, I would want her to take good care of herself, and to be nice to herself, and that's without my even trying to be compassionate. That's just because I care what happens to her, and how she feels. So why couldn't I wish these nice things for myself, as well? When I thought about it that way, I stopped beating myself up and started kindly asking myself what I'd like to change, and how to best go about changing. And then, more importantly, reassuring myself that I'm a good person no matter if I run a mile in twelve minutes or six, or if I have a big lunch or a small one. It doesn't matter, because I am still loved.

That's the bottom of the compassion issue, for me, and I think, too, for most of the people in my reading group: God's love is not a scarce resource, is not dependent on what we do or don't do, and is for everyone. We just have to find the best ways of sharing that love with each other, and with ourselves.

Bring Me Back: Part 2

A couple of months ago I wrote about how C. S. Lewis and his writings helped me understand more about God, and helped bring me back to Christianity after I'd felt like giving up. This week I've been thinking a lot about music, and how it's also done this for me in many ways.

There are a couple of bands I've been listening to lately that don't classify themselves as Christian in the genre sense of the word even though they deal with Christian themes, and that, to me, is totally understandable considering my personal opinion that 90% of Christian rock is pretty terrible. I'll admit to having a soft spot for early Dashboard Confessional, and I own some Reliant K and Switchfoot, but generally I steer clear. It's just not my cup of tea.

But when I find artists who express truth in their lyrics, regardless of their religious affiliation, I'm drawn to them. Last summer I finally jumped on the Mumford and Sons bandwagon, and I haven't looked back. Their album "Sigh No More," is filled with some of the most complex ideas and universal feelings I think I've ever heard, but the melodies are catchy and so full of energy, I've used it as one of my major playlists while running!

Anyway, I started listening to this band over the summer, and when I began seriously thinking about attending Luther and went to go visit in October, their songs helped me ground myself and think with my heart.
Let me just hit you up with a couple of examples:

"Love; it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be.
There is a design, an alignment, a cry
Of my heart to see
The beauty of love as it was made to be"
-Sigh No More

"It seems that all my bridges have been burnt
But you say that's exactly how this grace thing works
It's not the long walk home that will change this heart
But the welcome I receive with the restart"
-Roll Away Your Stone

Over the last few months I've started listening to them whenever I need to be reminded that I'm here to be God's love in the world. They center me and bring me out of my flights of fancy and obsession that I tend to get stuck in.
This lyric, especially, has been floating around and making me feel braver:

"I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears..."
-The Cave

Lent

So, I have a confession to make. I've been totally out of the church loop for the last three weeks. About two days ago my friend Emmy texted me and said "do you have somewhere to go for Ash Wednesday? 'Cause you can come with me if you want!"

I had totally forgotten about it.

When it comes to Lent, my first reaction has always been that of most Christians I know: "oh my gosh, now I have to find something to give up." The first time I gave something up for Lent I was fourteen, and I gave up meat. I still remember how, in one of the first days declaring my allegiance to the school's salad bar, a boy I had a crush on came up to me and said "oh, do you not eat meat either?" I said no, I didn't, and he asked why. I told him I'd given it up for Lent. "Oh," he said, clearly disappointed, "that's cool, I guess."

But it was so not cool. I didn't really talk about why I stopped eating meat for the next forty days. Among many people my age, those who are part of organized religion are generally thought of as either insanely evangelical (and therefore terrifying) or backward and intolerant (which tends to put people on the defensive). Since I've come to accept that my belief in God has almost nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that a loving God exists and wants to use me for good in the world, I've attempted to be the kind of person that is of the faith, and yet not in everyone's face about it all the time. It's a hard line to walk, because half the time I feel like I'm not speaking when I should, and when I do speak, I do it with a fear of being thought of in a negative way. My fear and sense of self-preservation gets in the way of being "all that I can be," as they used to say in the 90s.

So anyway, since then I've given up a lot of things for Lent, from biting my nails to using God's name in vain, and this year I felt stumped. A quick google search told me that other people were running out of ideas as well. There are all kinds of websites out there telling you what you should give up! But I also found a couple of articles that talked about why we give things up for the Lenten season. One article in particular pointed to what Jesus says in Luke 9:23 -

"Then he said to them all: 'Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.'" (NIV)

So if Lent is all about denying yourself, then giving up things like meat or chocolate make sense, from one point of view. You're denying yourself something that you enjoy. But (this article argued), what if denying yourself actually meant denying your self-ish-ness. Denying the part of you that thinks you are the most important thing. Setting yourself aside in favor of serving God and neighbor. That sounds more like a plan Jesus could go for. I mean, he said that what he ate didn't matter, so why should we dwell on it?

But when I think about how I can let go of my self in favor of God and others, it seems like there are so many options, and I get a little bit overwhelmed! At the Ash Wednesday service tonight, we did a longer version of the confession of sins, and within that list alone I can think of six or seven things that I know I could do better.

Aside: That's actually a major problem I have when Ash Wednesday comes around - I feel like so much of it is about being sorry for the ways we've messed up, but to me an apology doesn't mean anything if you don't also promise to try to do better next time. And there are so many things to do better at, that I get caught up in planning the ways I'll be better during the prayers!

Here are the major things I felt sorry for tonight: my self indulgence when others in the world go hungry, the way I fail to share the faith when the right moment comes up, and the way I've slacked off on keeping up my side of my relationship with God lately by allowing other things to get in the way.

Here's what I'm going to do about it: Firstly, for the 40 days of Lent, whenever I feel the urge to go to the store specifically to buy junk food (this happens almost every night around 10pm), I will instead put the money I would have used aside, and at the end I'll donate it. Secondly, I will try to be braver and more vocal about talking about my faith, especially with the people who I know don't mind. I have a few friends who I know don't feel negatively about me talking about what I believe, so that's a good place to start. I know this isn't quantifiable or especially large, but baby steps are important. Thirdly, I've allowed friends, laziness, bad planning, obsessions, the internet, and various other things to distract me from getting to church on Sunday, from being involved in church community activities, and from finding a new home church up here in the Cities. No more! For Lent, I'm giving up excuses and the things I'd really like to do for the things I need to do, because I have a deep thirst for prayer and study and God that won't get taken care of unless I make it a priority. Again, this isn't necessary quantifiable, but it means that the minute I say to myself "ok, I'll just stay another few hours and be extra tired for church," I'll be honest with myself and say "if you do that you know you won't actually get up. Go to bed now."

These are the things I'm going to work on; helping others, and strengthening my relationship with God. But I'm also trying just let Ash Wednesday be what it is; a day of repentance, and remembering that none of us are perfect, but that God loves us anyway.

I hope you remember this always, and I pray that you're all having a blessed beginning to the Lenten season!

Will You?

Will You Come And Follow Me (The Summons)

John Bell (1949- ) and Graham Maule (1958- )

"Will you come and follow me,

If I but call your name?

Will you go where you don't know

And never be the same?

Will you let my love be shown,

will you let my name be known,

will you let my life be grown

in you and you in me?

Will you leave your self behind

if I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind

and never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare

should your life attract or scare,

will you let me answer prayer

in you and you in me?

Will you love the you you hide

if I but call your name?

Will you quell the fear inside

and never be the same?

Will you use the faith you've found

to reshape the world around

through my sight and touch and sound

in you and you in me?

Lord, your summons echoes true

when you but call my name.

Let me turn and follow you

and never be the same.

In your company I'll go

where your love and footsteps show.

Thus I'll move and live and grow

in you and you in me."

We sang this hymn in church today. It's always been one of my very favorites, and today, like every time we sing it, I teared up all over the place. I know that sometimes speaking for God is a fine line to walk, but this hymn does it so perfectly. Verses 2 and 3 never fail to make me sing like my heart is bursting.

Bring Me Back: Part 1

I've been thinking a lot lately about the things that have brought me back to faith.

It seems strange to say "things," because more than anything else it's the people that roped me back in after I gave up on God when I was about ten years old, but in the quiet moments when I felt most alone there were always voices calling me back. Voices that didn't come from corporeal people in my life, but instead from books and music.

The person who's had the biggest effect on my faith is no longer alive. I don't remember the first time I read "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" by C. S. Lewis, or how old I was when I finally made it through "The Last Battle," but those books whispered to me. I came for the grand stories of adventure and magic, and I stayed for the truth that runs throughout the series like water underneath a frozen river. I reacted to Aslan in a way I'd never felt about God, and the lion imagery in the Bible still hits me harder than any other personification.

Of all the Narnia books, the one that spoke to me most was "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader." It was a security blanket, for some reason, and I remember taking it to camp with me and reading it slowly, word by word, to make it through my first panic attacks. The two moments that still stand out to me are these:
Eustace, who is new to Narnia and a pretty greedy and selfish sort of guy, gets turned into a dragon because he tries to steal dragon's treasure. No one can figure out how to turn him back, and so he becomes miserable, but finally quiet and humble, and the other children begin to make friends with him. Then, one night, he's visited by Aslan. Aslan takes him up into some mountains to a pool of water and says that to turn human again he must undress and bathe in the pool. Eustace figures that dragons are like snakes, so Aslan must mean that he has to shed his skin. He tries, and eventually takes off several layers of skin, but it's no good.

"I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? So I scratched away for a third time and got off a third skin, just like the others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good. Then the lion said 'You will have to let me undress you.' I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty near desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back and let him do it. The first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart, and when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off... Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off--just as I thought I'd done the other three times, only they hadn't hurt--and there it was lying on the grass, only ever so much thicker and darker and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch, and smaller than I had been. The he caught hold of me--I didn't like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I'd no skin on--and threw me into the water. I smarted like anything, but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone. I'd turned into a boy again."

It was a story that's stuck with me; the story of a boy who couldn't save himself.

The other bit that I loved was when Aslan tells the two youngest children, Edmund and Lucy, that they can't come back to Narnia anymore.

"'You are too old, children,' said Aslan, 'and you must begin to come close to your own world now.'
'It isn't Narnia, you know,' sobbed Lucy. 'It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?'
'But you shall meet me, dear one,' said Aslan.
'Are--are you there too, Sir?' said Edmund.
'I am,' said Aslan. 'But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.'

And I think that's why "Dawn Treader" was my favorite book. Because it made clear what I'd always felt about the nature of God.

When I was in my sophomore year of college and thinking about getting baptized, I remembered how much Lewis had done in helping me understand things as a kid, and I turned to him again. I read through "The Screwtape Letters" several times, and once again I found answers. The way Lewis writes makes sense in my head and in my heart, and it resonates inside me long after I've put the book down.

Without his writing allowing me to feel the presence and nature of a loving God in my childhood, and without his explanations of the world and human nature in my teens, I'm not sure I would have come back to Christianity. Or if I did, it would have been much later, and as a very different person. And I like to think that this is something that would give him a bit of the joy he wrote about so passionately.

Evolution In Faith

Last weekend I finished writing my essay for the Luther application and finally got everything sent in. (Yay!!)
One of the first things I did while outlining the essay was to look back at the faith statement I wrote for my baptism back in 2008. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but when I started comparing what I'd written almost four years ago to what I wanted to write now, there were a few inconsistencies. I think this means that my faith and my outlook are becoming stronger and more mature, which is a good thing, but it did make me feel a little strange. As if what I wrote then was less true because I believe differently now. Of course, there's also a lot that hasn't changed, but those things help me feel rooted, and I definitely don't feel bad about them. Above all, I believe that God is love, and hopefully that will never change.
Anyway, I won't go into the differences right this minute, because I'm sure I'll want to write more about them later, but I did want to paste in excerpts from my faith statement and my application essay, just for future reference. For those of you that have heard the former, or helped proofread the latter, thanks for reading again. :-)

Faith Statement 2008
"The God I know is the Heavenly Father that was revealed through the life of Jesus Christ. Emmanuel. God With Us. The Gospels tell us that He is a God of love who teaches us to care for our enemies and to turn the other cheek instead of requiring retribution and an eye for an eye. He is a merciful, forgiving and generous God who ate with outcasts and fed thousands of people not only with material food, but with a hope that can never be killed by famine and a well of faith that will never dry up. This is the God who met a widow crying for her only son and we are told that “His heart went out to her.” Without even being asked He tenderly told her not to cry and proceeded to bring back her son. Paul himself calls Him “the God of all comfort.” This God has the power to calm storms, banish disease and change hearts, and He doesn’t use this power for His own glory, but because of His love for us and for all creation. All good things come from Him, and it is in Him that we live and move and have our being. In Him we are never alone.
"Most importantly, and in summation, our God is love. He doesn’t just have love, or give love, or personify that flakey love-stuff we see in the movies. First John four tells us that He IS love. And love is patient, and is also kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

Application Essay 2011
"I believe there is one God, who is beyond race, gender, space, time, and all human understanding. God created the cosmos and loves every bit of that creation unconditionally. God gave humankind free will, because we couldn’t reciprocate that love without choice, and our free will allows us to turn away from God into sin, which harms us and the creation around us. Even through our brokenness, God has loved us, and that love was given flesh in the form of Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-us, who was born into the world both human and divine. Jesus teaches people how to live on this earth through stories and by example, and he calls us to follow him in a Christ-like life. Jesus’ death on the cross was the ultimate demonstration of love, and it reconciled the sins of all creation and opened the door to everlasting life, destroying the separation which had gotten in the way of our relationship with God; saving us from ourselves. I believe Jesus rose from the dead, and therefore conquered death and gave us hope for a new birth in life with God. I believe in the Holy Spirit, who was with the other two aspects of the Trinity in the beginning before all things were made, and who inspires us and moves through the world even now calling to us through the Gospel to love God and our neighbor."

Welcome!

Hi everyone! If you're here, I'm expecting that you found your way over from my travel blog, and that you already know me, so the introduction to this blog is short, and as follows:

Hi! I'm Alison! I'm 23 years old, I'm applying to Luther Seminary for a Masters in their Youth and Family Ministry program, and I really hope I get in. This is going to be a place where I can write about things I've been reading, what I've been thinking as I prepare, and questions that I have as I go along. Thanks in advance for reading!