The Grace of God Compells Me to Hang Out with People Unlike Myself

   The following quote is an analysis of Christian engagement with the world from Langdon Gilkey's memoir of his internment in the WWII Japanese-run camp, Shantung Compound, after which the book is titled.  It is a slap on the wrist to all Christians who have isolated themselves, behaviorally if not physically, from the secular community around them.  Gilkey is describing the behavior of various religious groups within Shantung Compound during the two and a half years in which they were kept together in alarmingly close quarters.  These comments do not come from someone who is making a passing judgement--Gilkey literally lived side-by-side with these people and had an honest, consistent picture of their behavior over the course of his internment.

   "The Catholic fathers possessed a religious and moral seriousness free of spiritual pride, the communicated to others not how holy they were but their inexhaustible acceptance and warmth toward the more worldly and wayward laymen. Nothing and no one seemed to offend them, or shock them; no person outraged their moral sense.  A person could could on their accepting him, as he could count on their integrity -and such acceptance of others is sadly rare on the part of "moral " people...  ...The fathers mixed amiably with anybody and everybody: with men accustomed to drinking, gambling, swearing, wenching, even taking dope, men replete with all the major and minor vices.  Yet they remained unchanged in their own character by this intimate, personal contact with "the world."


   ...How much less creative, I thought -and how far from the Gospels- is the frequent Protestant reaction of moral disapproval, and of spiritual of not physical withdrawal.  Although they did try to be friendly, the Protestants nevertheless typically huddled together in a compact "Christian remnant."  Not unlike the Pharisees in the New Testament, the kept to their own flock of saved souls, evidently because they feared to be contaminated in some way by this sinful world which they inwardly abhorred.  In contrast, the Catholic fathers mixed.  They made friends with anyone in the camp, helped out, played cards, smoked and joked with them.  They were a means of grace to the whole community." (p. 179)

   I personally believe that "Christian remnant-ism" is the default mode for most Christians, and for most people, simply because we prefer to be around people who think and act like us.  Christian branding (such as Christian radio, movies, literature, education curricula, etc.) has also served to mono-culturize Christians in a way that makes them detectably uncomfortable with non-Christians and non-Christian settings.  And why, if we believe we are Christians because we are justified by Jesus and not our own works, do we think that Christian culture is somehow less sinful than non-Christian culture? Because sin is about motivation and about what we set our affections on, we're just as likely to be influenced into sin by hanging out with Christians as we are with non-Christians. 

  Jesus was so closely associated with messed up people that the religious leaders accused him of being one of them, even to the point of calling him a "glutton and a drunkard." (Luke 7:34)  We cannot expect to follow Jesus' example and make disciples of all demographics if we are only comfortable being around people like ourselves--if we only hang out with Christians.  All of us have interests and talents that can be relational inroads towards the people in our work, schools, neighborhoods, garden clubs, gyms, coffee shops, bars, and book clubs. The grace of God compels us to relationally pursue these people because we were first pursued by a Love that won us over. 

5 Hilarious Things about being Pregnant at Whitworth

  
1) Aliens!
        One of my professors is constantly checking in with me to make sure everything is ok, which is something I really appreciate about Whitworth's faculty: they really care about their students.  At the same time, I get the feeling like he expects me to faint or vomit in class, like my condition is some kind of alien disease.  This leaves me feeling very tempted to make a dramatic scene during class, like start screaming that my water broke or something.

2) The Bump Check
        "Oh hey, Allie!" *eyes flash down to check out the bump* "How are you?"
        I can't really blame anyone.  After all, I would be curious too, and the bump is kind of hard to see this early in the game. 
        But seriously my face is up here.

3) Bloodhound
        Some time during week 6, literally overnight, my nose went from normal to bloodhound.  I started picking up all sorts of scents--clues really--from the world around me.  The guy sitting next to me in Core ate a chipotle sandwich for lunch, they're having those rosemary potatoes in Saga, and I swear that from the HUB I can pick up traces of the Magnolia tree in front of Lindeman.  I also discovered that people think they are really sneaky about letting loose some pressure in public.  During lectures, tests, choir, you name it, strange smells are leaking out everywhere.  Whitworth's olifactory underworld can be a scary place.

4) Anterior

        Everybody knows that being pregnant means having to pee all the time, but if you're like me, and your baby-utilities are built horizontally and forward (instead of vertically and upright, like most people's) you're going to end up wiggling in you're seat, tapping things, and thinking "five more minutes of class.........fiiiiive more minutes..."  While I'm fully symptomatic with Senioritis, I really just want class to get over so I can hit the rest room.  Here is an illustration:

5)  Grad Plans
       When it comes to my graduating class, everyone is in default mode right now: Step 1) Greet a fellow senior. Step 2) Ask them what they're doing after graduation.  Out of the people I've talked to, only about 20% of us actually have a plan for tackling the world, but in my case the answer is easy.  Whether Justin gets an organic agriculture internship somewhere or I get a ministry job someplace or we stay in good ol' Spo, my life is essentially spoken for by 6.8cm of tiny love.  The distant future has all the same questions, hopes, and dreams as my peers, and yet the near future is pretty clear cut. In roughly 187 days there will be an entirely new person in the world who will require the foundational love, care, affirmation and guidance that all of us need to become the people we were meant to be.  Regardless of my career path or living situation, this task will become one of the greatest and most meaningful challenges of my life.  I still laugh, though, whenever my friends ask me what I'm doing after graduation.  "Ha! Have you looked at my stomach lately?"

Oh baby

1.  These two crazies are going to be parents.

2.  Baby Hymas is the size of a lime, and has all of her fingers and toes.  He is thinking, kicking and swallowing when he's not sleeping, and all of his vital organs are up and running.  She already has the distinct facial features that make her look different from other people! 

3. So far, there were 4 weeks where we didn't know we were a trio, and then 5 weeks where we knew, but we couldn't tell the world, 1 week of ralphing, 6 weeks where everything smelled like a poison bomb, 1 week since I've ditched my regular jeans, 4 weeks of crying whenever I think about things like Old Yeller dying, 2 weeks of craving cranberry juice all the time, 6 weeks of detecting every scent within 4 miles, 4 weeks of chewing Eclipse gum all day to fight of nausea, 3 weeks of worrying that I'm going to fall off my step-stool in choir and, in total, 11 weeks of helping Baby Hymas grow all the important parts he or she needs to be a person! Only 29 more weeks to go!

4.  Awkward: Trying to politely refuse soft cheeses and sushi.  E-mailing my professors when I can't come to class because I'm tossing my cookies. Leg twitching during class??  Trying not to forget my vitamins. Picking up the slightest whiff of... everything.
     Awesome: Emily's maternity box with tons of adorable clothes!   Having the best excuse ever for missing Spanish 102.  Choir girls dreaming about how singing around the baby is going to make him or her so smart.  Cuddling with Justin, fuzzy blankets and big mugs of tea, sharing dreams about our family.

The phrase "How are you?" should change the world

   You know how we do that thing?  That thing where we pretend to be really excited about running into people with whom we are only remotely acquainted?

   I'm actually bummed less by the insincerity of our social antics and more by the fact that we don't genuinely care.  "How are you?" isn't a literal question.  Nobody actually wants to stop what they're doing or where they're going and hear about somebody's life.  Asking "How are you?" is simply a polite acknowledgement that a person exists.

   There are times where we need to get somewhere and we really don't have the time to hear about someone's day.  In that case, a "Hi!" will do just fine, but when we ask, "How are you?" we should mean it.  We should be willing to set aside whatever we're doing and intently listen to a person's story, absorbing details and banking them away to ask them about it later.
   Being attentive to others is a discipline, it doesn't come easily for most of us.  However, I believe that good listeners can radically influence other people for good, because being heard is one of the most healing, empowering gifts we can ever receive.  "How are you?" is meant to be a doorway into relational depth, not a curtly tossed phrase that is usually returned with "Fine."

Feelings: real or not real?

Feelings happen.  They can hit us in an instant or they can slowly escalate, a reaction broadcasting emotions to the forefront of our being.  We are shocked, hurt, elated, amused and often a mix of several things at once.  Yet how often are feelings real?  Do our feelings always reflect what we think about the world, or the kinds of people we want to be?  Could they simply be an indication of not enough sleep?  Something we ate?

A study done earlier this year by Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts General Hospital concludes that emotions are "ontologically subjective."  This means that while they are tangible forces, they aren't real in the sense that they won't always generate the same effect every time a specific cause is applied.  According to this research, even the best emotion-detecting equipment can't distinguish between fear, anger, and surprise.  These feelings are highly contingent on hormonal balance and specific circumstances and behavioral patterns of an individual.  So, no.  Feelings are not real.  They are subjective and only relevant within the contexts of our own being.

Here is my point:  we should be honest with others about how we feel, but when our feelings are not helpful we need to recognize that they are not actually real.  Over time, feelings can form into ideas, grudges, love, etc. and those things are very real and influential, but our instant emotional reactions must be thought through before we blurt them out and damage our relationships.  So am I being honest when I irritably tell my husband that I'm annoyed with the way he folds the laundry?  I would say no!  I am honestly in love with him, and honestly, I want to be the kind of wife that doesn't heap judgements on my husband!  That is the truth!  How could I believe that my petty irritation is more real that my deep love for him?  How could it be more important to express our irrational feelings towards someone than the love and care we have for them?

While the idea of being 100% honest about every thought that goes through our head might be popular, it is actually quite selfish to impose all of our fleeting, subjective feelings onto those around us. This is why 2 Corinthians 10:5 tells us to "take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ."  Of course, our friends and family are safe places to vent about our emotions, to be honest about our irrational feelings, but we will be so much more fun to be around if we deal wisely with our irritation, quick judgements, and impulses.  After all, it might just be bad pizza.

You want to do WHAT?

   Our culture has this strange divide between the things you like to do and the things you do all day to make money.  When you're my age, the pervasive question "What are you going to be when you grow up?" is loaded with "How are you going to keep yourself off the street?"  Stability has one accepted form these days and its green with an old guy stamped in the middle. 

  Of course, this is not the image we give little kids to describe the career world, no we tell them they can be anything!  Do you want to be a fire-fighter, little Johnny?  Or how about a first-baseman for the Yankees?  How sweet!  The kids like me who were told in grade-school that they could grow up to be astronauts or the president are now careening off the edge of indecision.  We want to live up to our dreams, but safe, wallet-friendly job choices largely come in prosaic categories.  The chute from education to vocation feels cramped by questions of salary scale and benefits.

  And then, in a moment of fate, my husband dumped over all his medical aspirations and announced, "I want to be a farmer!"  Me of course, drinking the kool-aid of stability-worship, immediately threw a fit.  As far as I was concerned, Justin could be anything he wanted...as long as our income wouldn't be trampled by sleet rain or wiped out by mad cow disease or anything.  At first I was deaf to Justin's romantic descriptions of pastoral simplicity, tasting the tangible profits of hard, physical work, and providing fresh, raw food for a CSA of lively idealists.  Then I took a good hard look at the way I perceived resources and where they come from.
 

We allow our dreams to become stifled by questions of money because we secretly believe that God is holding out on us.  We don't trust his provision because we feel like God will probably give us something we deserve, and we know we don't deserve much.  But God is not like that at all!  In Matthew 7:7-11 Jesus compares a parent's care for his child with God's gracious provision for us.  Even a hardened criminal can be compassionate towards his or her family, so how much greater is God's provision for even our smallest needs. He has shown himself to be God-for-us on the cross.  We have no reason to suspect that he will stingily withhold from us when he has already given all of himself.

So I'm open to participating in Justin's pursuit of sustainable agriculture.  In fact I'm excited!  Moving forward with a healthy amount of risk is making life thrilling and adventurous.  It is refreshing to be able to let go and begin something new.

Smells Like Dirt

 On the west side of Washington, where I grew up, there is a special thing that happens in the air around this time of year.  The ground starts to wake up and the very faintest sign that spring is coming fills your nose when you walk outside.  Its the smell of dirt, earthy moisture mingled with rain.

  On Friday, my choir director remarked that right now you can kind of smell dirt in the air around Spokane, probably because of the warmer rain we've had for the past week or so.  I caught a whiff of this scent yesterday, and it made me think about seasons and change.  Ecclesiastes says that life is broken up into seasons, a time to study, a time to play, a time to work, a time to rest.  When I first read  Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 I thought that the "seasons" were specific moments of rest, work, birth, and death, but its also clear that there are longer seasons characterized by these postures. The past few months have been a season of struggle, but I'm ok with that.  It's pushed me in ways that I wouldn't have pushed myself and shown me my deep need for otherworldly grace.  There is a time to struggle, a time to get over yourself.

  And here's where it comes back to dirt: seasons change.  My season of struggle isn't over quite yet, but I'm starting to sense that hopeful aroma of dirt in the air.  I'm not saying the next season will be easy or hassle-free, but the redemptive freshness of a new stage is terribly exciting.  Somewhere down in the ground hope is springing up, pushing its way to the surface.  Some day soon it's going to come up for air.

That awkward moment...

Love Dreams

Justin and I have always felt natural together.  Getting married was almost a seamless transition, but there are aspects that I'm still not used to.  One of them is the way Justin laughs in his sleep.

Now if you weren't at my wedding, Ben Ross gave a killer best-man speech in which he included several hints about Justin that only a roommate of three years could tell you.  Some of them I already knew; Justin gets extremely annoyed when anybody makes slurping noises, and he is fond of drying his laundry without a dryer.  But it was news to me when Ben shared that soon after we started dating, Justin began laughing in his sleep on a regular basis.

It didn't take long for me to hear Justin's happy dreaming for myself.  He laughs in a conversational way, as if someone has just made a funny comment or joke.  Justin's laugh has such freedom and easiness, I sometimes find myself laughing with him as I lie awake listening.
I hope he does this for the rest of his life.

Does Jesus like lists?

I love making lists.  It's a trait that I get from my Granddad Upton: a kind of satisfaction gained from grouping ideas or tasks that in some way brings them underneath my rule.  I own you, little chores.  I have almost already defeated you by writing you down.  Sometimes I write things down that I have already done, just so that I can cross them off.

Wake up      

There are other days, however, when I feel like making a list of tasks would subject myself to their domination.  I might make a list, and then say, HEY!  You can't tell me what to do!  I'm going to stare at my computer for an hour, and you can't do anything about that.  ...It is true that making lists can create a sense of failure when they aren't completed.  If I ask for accountability in completing my list, from Justin or somebody, there can even be a sort of fear that happens in my heart when I have to tell Justin that I didn't do everything on the list.  Lists are a set of expectations, but are they a healthy form of accountability or do they lead to a performance-based salvation?

So where is the balance?  Help me out here, how do I keep myself accountable but stay out of a performance-mindset?