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Life Update

Okay, this one is going to be quick and rather random. 

In the reading department . . .

I finally finished re-reading Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. The story is great, the narration good, the exposition annoying. (Never read this book unless you find an edition with a thousand pages of footnotes.) I also got my hands on Viola and Barna's Pagan Christianity. I was disappointed-- I expected the book the be really solid, but unfortunately spotted a lot of logical fallacies as I worked my way through it. Over all, not nearly as comprehensive or informative as it could have been. I don't know that I'd recommend it. 

I am working on John Piper's When I Don't Desire God, in addition to text books for my two classes. I have finished Prince Caspian and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Can I just say how much I love C.S. Lewis?

I recently sped through T.D. Jakes Total Forgiveness. And I mean, sped through it. In two hours at Starbucks. I say, if you want to understand how forgiveness works, pick up The Discipline of Grace, by Bridges. It's great!  

Oh yeah, and for something a little different, I've been reading The Message version of the Bible, side by side with the NIV (my preferred translation). Yesterday I was reading in Matthew where Jesus says that out of the heart come evil thoughts, lies, and slander to corrupt man (highly paraphrased.) I looked over at The Message version and it had added-- added, not paraphrased-- cussing as one of the things that corrupts us. So apparently, my staunch defense of cursing is over. The Message declares it-- Jesus forbids it! 

In another department. . . 

Does it seem like I have a lot of time on my hands? It doesn't feel like it. I have had to clean the exact same parts of the house probably twice a day the last week. There are just too many people in this house who are used to it being dirty that they forget to keep it clean once it's clean. And then that wears me out so I take my cat Lux outside until he can't stand the heat anymore so I drive to Starbucks and read so that I can actually focus on important stuff before this kid arrives and I don't have any more relax time. 

In the friends department . . .

In all fairness, we have actually been visiting a lot with friends, since I have been making friends at our new church. This weekend we had three couples over for dinner, played card games, won a volleyball tournament, and mowed the yard. (Okay, I actually played very little part in the mowing bit. Or the volleyball  tournament, seeing as how I can't move.) But all the same, we were busier than normal. And it was nice. 

In the baby department . . .

Aubriana's due date is a week and a half away. I think we've got everything we need, but pray that

she's born to be like 6 or 7 pounds because otherwise she won't fit in half the clothes she received.

Here's a picture!

Reading is Good

So I found myself wishing today for the books of my youth. Or more accurately-- the absorption in books that I had in my youth. I have been slugging through Les Miserables ("Shut up already, Monsieur Hugo!") and really missing the times when you couldn't get my attention for anything.

The problem is that now I know too much about literature to enjoy the stupid stuff, and the non-stupid stuff can honestly be a little depressing / annoying / heavy / thought-provoking, etc.

Sad! =(

Quote of the Day

"An old Cuban answered the door. He looked Dominican or something."
--Bryan Herbert
(caveat: this is not a book I recommend actually reading.)

From JARED

    My friend Jared and I have been talking. I thought we'd share what we've been discussing. The following post is an e-mail Jared wrote in response to me in response to him. Good questions, which I haven't answered yet, incidentally.

"Yeah I dont know how we're supposed to make culture subservient to Christianity.
I like a lot of your ideas, Rach.
(Incidentally, if you're interested in the whole living homeless a little while thing - this is a book I read at NU which I really really loved - not a Christian author (that I know of) but really insightful)
Take a group like U2.  There's a group with phenomenal ability and popularity - and yet I think a great deal of salt in their music and lyrics.  I've always felt Jars of Clay has done a brilliant job of this balancing act too.
Anyhow - I don't know what's best.  Take scare-mare for example. {Rachel's EDIT: ScareMare is a haunted house put on by Christians to literally scare the hell out of people}  What do you think about that kind of event?  I've never been - so it's unfair of me to judge it - but that type of idea has always creeped me out (not in the halloween sense - just generally).

One thing I've been thinking about are the arts that I love so much - namely, drumming, singing, jazz and theatre.  In what ways should I/can I legitimately (and by legitimately I mean in such a way as to not compromise their quality) make them subserviant to my Christianity.  Drumming particularly is interesting to me in that - primarily, I enjoy it at it's most basic level - rhythm.  That is - merely the joy of being in time - or out of time!  Just this innate rhythmic sense that God has put in my soul.  Drumming itself can conjure very primal/spiritual feelings in oneself.  Thus, for me at least, it can be a worshipful experience to just enjoy the groove. But how do I turn that outward?  How do I in any way make my grooves glorify God?  Answer?  No clue.

Not sure if I just went on a tangent or if we're still discussing the same thing.  My mind is kind of scattered this morning.
What are your thoughts?

The rest of the e-mails are in the extended post. Click below! 

Don't Much Like Poetry, but...

Excerpt from "The People, Yes"
-- Carl Sandburg

The people yes
The people will live on.
The learning and blundering people will live on.
    They will be tricked and sold and again sold
And go back to the nourishing earth for rootholds,
    The people so peculiar in renewal and comeback,
    You can't laugh off their capacity to take it.
The mammoth rests between his cyclonic dramas.

The people so often sleepy, weary, enigmatic,
is a vast huddle with many units saying:
    "I earn my living.
    I make enough to get by
    and it takes all my time.
    If I had more time
    I could do more for myself
    and maybe for others.
    I could read and study
    and talk things over
    and find out about things.
    It takes time.
    I wish I had the time."

The people is a tragic and comic two-face: hero and hoodlum:
phantom and gorilla twisting to moan with a gargoyle mouth:
"They buy me and sell me...it's a game...sometime I'll
break loose..."

    Once having marched
Over the margins of animal necessity,
Over the grim line of sheer subsistence
    Then man came
To the deeper rituals of his bones,
To the lights lighter than any bones,
To the time for thinking things over,
To the dance, the song, the story,
Or the hours given over to dreaming,
    Once having so marched.

Between the finite limitations of the five senses
and the endless yearnings of man for the beyond
the people hold to the humdrum bidding of work and food
while reaching out when it comes their way
for lights beyond the prison of the five senses,
for keepsakes lasting beyond any hunger or death.
    This reaching is alive.
The panderers and liars have violated and smutted it.
    Yet this reaching is alive yet
    for lights and keepsakes.

    The people know the salt of the sea
    and the strength of the winds
    lashing the corners of the earth.
    The people take the earth
    as a tomb of rest and a cradle of hope.
    Who else speaks for the Family of Man?
    They are in tune and step
    with constellations of universal law.
    The people is a polychrome,
    a spectrum and a prism
    held in a moving monolith,
    a console organ of changing themes,
    a clavilux of color poems
    wherein the sea offers fog
    and the fog moves off in rain
    and the labrador sunset shortens
    to a nocturne of clear stars
    serene over the shot spray
    of northern lights.

    The steel mill sky is alive.
    The fire breaks white and zigzag
    shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
    Man is a long time coming.
    Man will yet win.
    Brother may yet line up with brother:

This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
    There are men who can't be bought.
    The fireborn are at home in fire.
    The stars make no noise,
    You can't hinder the wind from blowing.
    Time is a great teacher.
    Who can live without hope?

In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
    the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
    "Where to? what next?"

The question posed to LU English majors

The debate among the LU English majors

    Flannery O'Connor, Catholic author of short stories such as "A Good Man is Hard to Find" summarizes a prevailing viewpoint-- that Christian literature sucks. "Poorly written novels-- no matter how pious or edifying the behavior of the characters-- are not good in themselves and are therefore not really edifying." To counter the immediate objection that some Christians will have, she adds that "we have plenty examples in this world of poor things being used to good purposes. God can make any indifferent thing, as well as evil itself, an instrument of good; but I submit that to do this is the business of God and not of any human being."

    One of my professors, Dr. K Prior, supports this and claims that "developing a taste for aesthetic goodness helps to develop a taste for moral goodness." She even goes so far as to ask, "Is bad taste a sin?" She cites as a reference the fact that in the Bible, the word God uses for "good" includes both aesthetic and moral goodness.

    All the really smart English majors who are hippy and scornful and wear hair accessories like bandanas and braids agree with O' Connor. I, who have no distinct style and employ sarcasm frequently and wear my hair in a ponytail and read all the time, do not know if I agree. You see, just like some of you like bad music and know it's bad, I will read a poorly written book and still enjoy the experience-- not necessarily the story line or the poorly written character but the mere experience of reading. I do find myself enjoying this less and less, and prefer to read of experience outside the realm of Christian lady and Christian man finding each other (because it's never that easy-- as my friend Melissa said to me the other day, "I've stopped searching for the mature, sincere Christian man because every time I've found one, he disappears when we leave church.") Maybe I am developing my aesthetic taste at a more increased pace....

   A debate is going on at ragamuffinsoul.com about something sort of similar. Click here to read it.  As I read through all the comments and replies to this letter, one thing kept sticking out to me: the author does not appreciate Christian praise and worship songs for several reasons: 1) Christian praise and worship is birthed from a narrow viewpoint and appeals to a narrow audience, 2) employs cliches and remains unoriginal, 3) is not culturally relevant, 4) is poorly written. (Disclaimer: I read the letter and debate once, am now unable to access it, and have therefore quite probably infused my own color into the author's opinions) Personally, I share Stephen's linguistic aspirations and am also quite sensitive to words. I, too, find many contemporary worship songs unappealing because they don't say anything. When I express myself to my Creator in and through music, I want to tell Him something, and I want to tell it well. 

    This really makes me consider the question.

    "Is bad taste a sin?"

     Possibly. What do you think?

How to Live

I was listening to a popular song today-- "Unwritten" by Natasha something or other. The premise of the song is to "live your life with arms wide open." and in it she claims that "We've been conditioned to not make mistakes / But I can't live that way."

    This got me thinking about what it means to live life and it brought to mind yesterday morning when my sister crawled into bed with me. We were talking about the book I was reading-- "On the Road" by Jack Keruoac-- and I was trying to describe the nomadic way of thought and life lived by the narrator. There was never any line of thought that lasted for a considerable length of time, but the narrator was purposeful in naming almost every town he passed through. I was struck by his lack of purpose, when I realized he could only commit to recording the towns he left behind him. I've also been reading about St. Francis of Assisi and thinking about him and comparing the two men. One man goes everywhere in America and only lessens life, and the other travels as well but contributes to life. (When I say life I think I mean others.) "On the Road's" narrator was part of the beat generation-- he lived for music, adventure, girls, and beer. He definitely made mistakes in my eyes, and the biggest being that he wasn't about anything. St. Francis, on the other hand, was completely sold out to something. He was about helping people, creating things, loving people. Both men were intent on sucking the life out of day to day, they just did it differently. And I think St. Francis did it well.

    I told all this to my sister-- how each man struck me so contrastingly--and ended by saying, "When you live halfway in the 'others' realm and halfway in the 'me' realm, you end up sucking life dry. Those closest to you get frustrated by your selfishness, and you end up embittered at the trip your life is on.  You can't be about God one hour and yourself the next, because you can't live."

    All there is in life is to connect-- yourself with God, and then others. Everything else is the town you have or eventually will leave behind you.