we shall not cease from exploration

tunnel vision

One of the dangers, I think, of being a thinker who welcomes long bouts of solitude is tunnel vision: when alone for a while, I only see me. Though I recognize this habit (isn’t admission the first step to recovery?), there is another problem: the feeling of self-centered thoughts running non-stop through my grey matter is so familiar that I often pay it little heed. Does that make sense—thinking so much that you don’t know what you’re thinking? It happens enough to me.

So when my eyes are opened to my egocentricity, I feel something similar to the feeling I get when I look at a dark spot on the floor and realize it’s actually a spider. I recoil in horror. I want to squash it with a shoe. I think, How did I not see it this whole time?? 

Such self-centered thoughts usually regard me and the past and the future—things I cannot take back and, more frighteningly, things are that are unknown. A lot of nitpicking happens with the former; with the latter, it’s speculation and worry. I’m not sure why I do this. I find no pleasure in futility.

This past year, I’ve been learning a lot about my brain habits, which is one of the reasons why I can finally recognize the way my internal world orbits around me. Advice to “JUST BE” has been spoken to me on countless occasions. It isn’t pointless advice, but it kind of is because I don’t quite know how to go about “just be”ing.

Well, that isn’t entirely true. I have been re-learning how to pray in recent months, and it is only prayer that truly recedes my selfishness, even for just a little while. When I kneel before the throne of God, I struggle to believe that his hesed is more than enough for my endless deficiencies; I struggle to believe that when my Heavenly Father looks at me, he sees not a sinner but a beloved daughter because of what Christ accomplished for me (and you) on the cross. When I dwell in the house of the Lord, He broadens my perspective by removing my blinders. 

That is where I want my dwelling place to be: in the presence of the Lord, not in my own mind. I long to be intentional with my God even in my busyness. Especially in my busyness. I’m pretty sure I enjoyed this kind of freedom about two months ago for about two weeks before I put those blinders back on. I begin to treat God as a mere sounding board. I forget, or perhaps I refuse, to give him the space to reply.

So, I suppose this is an account of one of my great weaknesses. My struggle with tunnel vision will probably last my lifetime. Whilst being able to see my tunnel vision for what it is, I hold fast to this very important truth: God has still chosen to work in me and through me because of my weakness. I cannot forget this. I should be thankful that I am constantly reminded of my weakness because it eradicates my “right” to conceit (e.g., Paul’s thorn).

When I hold my hands out to God and know that I can only hold them out empty, He fills them.

One thing have I asked of the Lord,
that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to inquire in his temple. (Psalm 27:4)

if to distant lands I scatter

We just finished discussing the salvation history psalms on Wednesday. (If you’re interested, we had to read 78, 105, 106, 135, 136.) These psalms basically recount how God has moved in the story of the people of Israel, especially how he delivered them from slavery in Egypt, and end with some sort of praise to him. Dr. Curtis said this of the salvation history psalms: they indicate God’s “persistent refusal to wash his hands of wayward Israel.”

In 106:7-12, the psalmist writes that though Israel did not consider your wondrous works or remember the abundance of your steadfast love, God still saved them for his name’s sake. Israel finally begins to believe God’s word and praise him when he parts the Red Sea for them…

But they soon forgot his works; they did not wait for his counsel (11).

When discussing salvation history in general, one oft-made application point is that we continually forget—just as Israel did.
I fittingly forgot this application point whilst reading through 106 this morning, so verse 11 halted me in my tracks. I began to reflect upon the many ways in which I fail to remember the wondrous works God has done in my life, about the ways in which I forget that God’s love is exceeding and kind.

God allowed the people of Israel to fall into darkness when they turned towards it. Nevertheless, he looked upon their distress when he heard their cry. For their sake he remembered his covenant, and relented according to the abundance of his steadfast love (44-45).

The instinctively guilt-driven part of me wants to mark off points for falling short, but that is a silly, Pharisaical practice of the old self. God’s track record is flawless. He has never failed to fulfill a promise, so why should I doubt the promises yet to be fulfilled?

Easier said than done. Clearly. But the more I meditate on God’s truths, the better they stick… well, that’s what they tell me in Bible school. :)

Since I titled this post with the first line of Brooke Fraser’s “Hymn” (subjectively, one of her greatest lyrical works), I feel it’s only right to close with the final verse. Also the melody has been stuck in my head since yesterday.

If my heart has one ambition
If my soul one goal to seek
This my solitary vision:
Till I only dwell in Thee
That I only dwell in Thee
Till I only dwell in Thee 

to bring to nothing things that are

I’ll always say “never,” but I’ll always be wrong in the end.

I reflect upon this bittersweet truth as I sit in Panera Bread, writing instead of studying. Funny how the blogging bug bites when I need to be most productive.

Studying outside my room—like, studying for realzies, not just haphazardly flipping through lecture notes—is a new experience. It is something I in the past basically swore I would never do. I did not take into account the temptation of eavesdropping whilst trying to study in a public place, nor did I consider the possibility of distracting music. I’m so glad I brought earphones anyway. DISASTER(S) AVERTED!

I also had to go the restroom really badly and wasn’t sure if leaving my stuff out, even for just two minutes, was a good idea. Fortunately, a nearby middle-aged Asian man was aloof enough to keep his peripheral vision on my precious belongings. I had a perfectly concise statement prepared: “Hi, I’m going to be gone for a few minutes to use the restroom. Would you mind keeping an eye on my stuff for me while I’m there?” Instead, it went like this:

Me: “Hi, I’m goi—”
Him: [without looking up from highlighting in a book] “Yup. Yup.” 
Me: “Oh… thanks!”

Mind-reader? It was my quickest run to the bathroom ever. Mr. Aloof did look up from highlighting to requite a smile when I thanked him upon returning, though, so there is hope in the world.

All right. End study break. Back to the ear! But first, of course, some closing remarks:

• Coldplay is great studying music. This is completely subjective but I am totally right.
• Panera’s bacon, egg, and cheese on ciabatta is yum-tastic.
• I read 1 Corinthians 1 before breakfast as part of my self-assigned reading plan (one chapter/day). Very favorite part whence my title is derived: God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, whom God made our wisdom and our righteousness and sanctification and redemption.

cleanliness is next to craziness - and other stray observations

I have recently come to realize that the state of my desk reflects the state of my mind.

Right now, my desk is cluttered.

I have plans to tidy up this weekend because I will finally (!!!) have time to do so in a thoughtful manner. Thinking about cleaning helps me breathe a little easier. Does that also indicate control issues? Let’s sweep that one under the rug.

The week so far has been unsteady; work has been busy and LONG. I stumbled/ran through Monday and Tuesday by remembering too late assignments that were due either that class period or the period before… a habit usually reserved for the end of the semester. One of those forgotten assignments was a simple worksheet on Psalm 1 that I needed to complete before my 8 o’clock class this morning. So, I decided last night that I would wake up at six this morning to give myself sufficient time to get ready so that I could complete the worksheet during breakfast. A solid plan, right?

Wrong. Giving myself extra time in the morning to get ready just made me get ready slower. Being a girl is hard sometimes.

Said Psalms worksheet asked such questions: What does it mean to delight in the instruction of the LORD? What results are brought about by meditating/reflecting on that instruction? Why do you think meditation is important? Does meditation play a significant role in changing attitudes and behaviors? You get the gist of it.

Little did I know this “simple” worksheet would stop me in my tracks. There I was at my kitchen counter—a pen in my right hand, a spoon in my left—suddenly and unexpectedly arrested by the utter goodness and graciousness of my God. As I read through Psalm 1 and thought about meditation, it all clicked: I was feeling so cluttered and frantic because I had stopped thinking about the LORD. I had stopped delighting in his instruction.

It seems a little silly now that I did not expect a reflection paper on meditation to convict me and cause me to turn my gaze back onto Christ. Then again, hindsight is 20/20. The best part about me getting up extra early to complete this worksheet before class is that it totally was not due in class today (though it’s relevant because we discuss it in class). Still, I am thankful. Obviously. It’s good to be reminded that transformation is a slow, lifelong process, because I mess up… a lot.

Here are 3 stray observations I’ve made lately, because it’s late and I’m tired and I don’t know how else to close this thing off:

• A guy in my Weaponless Self-Defense class styles his beard into two short braids. It’s quirky in an unattractive way.
• I have decided that “sphincter” is one of the most all-around unpleasant words in my lexicon. It’s unpleasant to read, to write, and to say. I haven’t said it out loud yet, but my Dysphagia (“difficulty swallowing”) professor mentioned the esophageal sphincter on Monday and it made me cringe.
• Brookside Dark Chocolate Açai with Blueberry. Eat it and weep. Furthermore, I think pronouncing açai properly (“ah-sigh-EE”) sounds pretentious. Saying “furthermore” sounds pretty pretentious, too.

transformation: part I of infinity

Cards on the table: I’m expecting this semester.
Yes, I’m pregnant… with anticipation!

Ha ha ha. Wordplay aside, I really am expecting great movements of my heart in these next few months. This accidentally cohesive theme of “transformation” has made itself pretty clear to me already, and it’s only Day 4 of Spring 2012.

In fact, now that I think about it, my heart began to turn around Christmas break. In the entire year up till that break, I’d been doing my best to work through some pretty fresh wounds that, though aging, still felt at least half as fresh as they were the day they were afflicted. It is a truth universally acknowledged (Austen, “Pride & Prejudice” 1) that pains of the heart are never something one can ever completely leave, but they are also not meant to weigh a person down forever. I know a little better now that pain, when personal, can totally blind someone from the light waiting around the bend.

Thankfully, grace covers more than enough of a self-pitying narcissist.

My roommate Allegra, for whom I am also maid of honor (!), was there at the beginning of the hard times I trudged through back in late 2010. Well, to be accurate, I’d been going through hard times for about a year and a half already—and by then everything had crashed and burned (like my photoblog dream! but WORSE). Our unexpected friendship began exactly when we both needed that extra human support.
Last night, whilst staying up chatting like little girls at a sleepover, Allegra encouraged me by remembering what I was like then and telling me how much growth she’s seen in me in the 1+ years we’ve known each other. Psalm 77:11 (“I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your wonders of old”) has been my anthem for the past few weeks. It’s crazy how much you remember when you constantly think about remembering. (Yet somehow I still can never recall where I left my lip balm…)

Dr. Curtis spent yesterday’s class talking about characteristics of Hebrew poetry and the significance of the Psalms being poetic. The authors wrote their psalms to reproduce their emotions in the reader or hearer; figures of speech were constantly utilized to turn the ear into an eye. I hope I can say the Psalms are the poetic expression of truths about God without being fallacious, because that’s what I came away with. Ha! Well, that and transformation doesn’t come about simply by memorization, but by meditating on God’s truths. Then, in lit class, we had a surprisingly moving discussion about a gritty short story (“Old Boys, Old Girls”) about daddy issues and darkness and redemption through a death that mattered.

Stories are awesome. I’m absolutely fascinated by narratives because they’re so integral to every culture and can be expressed through countless mediums (with poetry being one of my favorites). There’s something so human about that, you know? Beyond that, I do believe there is a Great Storyteller who is active and moving—who LOVES us perfectly and unconditionally—and that this desire to tell stories comes from Him. See, I don’t have all the answers. I will probably respond to answers with more questions, anyway. But all the evidence shows that my God remembers, that my God keeps His promises, and that my God cares… so I think I can trust Him with my heart and my story.

psalms. narratives. commitment issues.

Whilst sitting in my first class of the semester this morning (an elective on Psalms), I was struck with inspiration: I’ll start blogging again! Logic said doing so would help me better apply what I’ll be learning, with all the extra reflecting and revisiting required of a person writing about his or her day. I think I came up with a few great one-liners during syllabus talk, but those phrases have long since passed… and so this sorry excuse of an introductory paragraph was made null.

Clearly, if I want to get back into this “blogging” thing, I need to either improve my short-term memory or simply write things down. But the latter solution requires me to remember to write things down. Catch-22.

Dr. Ed Curtis teaches the aforementioned Psalms class. He is a strikingly tall elderly man with what I suspect are progressive lenses and a dry wit. He graduated from Baylor University with a B.S. in Physics, was an engineer for 7-8 years… and then he decided to go to seminary school, where he eventually attained a Ph.D. in Hebrew and Biblical Studies. He is super smart. No big deal. He’s also from Texas (you can tell as much simply by listening to him); he moves and speaks with leisure; he’s abso-toot-ly passionate about wisdom literatYOOR (my best attempt at spelling out the funny way he pronounces “literature”). Most importantly, Dr. Curtis’ wish is for us to come to a place where see God’s hesed—His loving kindness—in our daily experiences through studying the Psalms. Yes, it sounds overly sentimental, but when you see how much the man values practical application as much as he values knowledge, the goal becomes a handsome one. He totally wants us to meet God in our studies, and considering the hefty amount of work we’re assigned in this class (e.g., a 10-12 page exegetical research paper on a Psalm of our choice and his approval), it’s really only worth it if we do.

After class #1, I worked at the mailboxes for a few crazy hours. Package pickup queues stretch for a few good yards at the beginning of the semester. People love waiting in long lines. Whilst working I somehow came to believe that I worked till noon because my next class was at 1. When I left work at 12:05 and checked my calendar, I realized I was actually supposed to work until 11 because my class was at noon. Whoops.

I rushed off to my literatYOOR class (“Story and Transformation”) where, fortunately, the professor (Brown) had prompted the class to go around and answer some “getting to kind-of-but-not-really know you” questions, so I didn’t miss anything. I was, quite frankly, relieved to find that I only had to sit through 3 of those instead of 20-ish. Professor Brown gave me the final go, so I introduced myself as “Scarlett” and “late”. People laughed so hard they were crying. (Hyperbole. People just laughed.)
Prof. Brown is probably in her late 20s, is also strikingly tall, and lived in Ireland with her husband and his family for a few years and came away with a slight Irish accent. (I’m sure she had a great time with her in-laws, too.) This class is harder to explain in my own words, so instead of trying I will simply include the final sentence in her course description: We will study novels, short stories, autobiographical essays, and films in order to search out the meaning of transformation as narrative. I know. That probably wasn’t helpful at all. I’ll probably gain a better sense of direction after a real class session on Wednesday. Probably.

The overall goals/themes of my literature and Psalms class are actually quite cohesive. Prof. Brown cited the Psalms whilst speaking of iconic transformative texts. And it’s true… the collection of poems that is the Psalms are so important in understanding the lifelong process of transformation that lies before a person once he/she has accepted Christ as his/her personal savior. Something like that, right?

All of that is to say… the “accidental” parallel nature of those two classes was comforting at first, but it quickly became somewhat frightening. Relevancy scares me sometimes. I’m not sure I even want to blog consistently anymore. How fickle my heart! And aren’t blogs essentially hatching grounds for predisposed narcissists to metamorphose into annoying butterflies who can’t stop talking about their wings? I totally have narcissistic tendencies. And my voice doesn’t always need to be heard.

Perhaps I’m overthinking this.

For realzies, though, this is quite the commitment. And we’ve only been one this one date, but it was kind of awkward. It’s not you… it’s me. This was originally intended to be a photoblog, anyway. Lord knows how that dream crashed and burned.

The end. It’s been real, everyone. (Or, more realistically, Trisha. As always, you’re the best.)

calamity!

I have some regrets and sorrows about not being able to invest more time into developing my “creative” side. Not that identifying vocal pathologies from case studies is completely non-creative…

But I remember the days when I used to write about my thoughts with at least a grain of coherence and ease and I miss them. Just earlier this year, I had plans to begin a food photography project (which would provide a twofold benefit: a happy stomach and great shots). My guitar(s) have been sitting untouched for longer than I like to admit. I also have started books I haven’t been able to finish, and I like to think I’m a fast reader.

I WANT TO PAINT MY DRESSER.

That Bishop line (I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster) comes to mind. I suppose putting my hobbies on hold isn’t disastrous because I do plan to complete them someday, but it’s difficult not to feel like TIME is RUNNING OUT (!!!). Maybe today is just one of those days.