sigh...

Sometimes something really good has to end...
We would as soon that life, God and ourselves were predictable.
Yet in our rare moments of honesty we are grateful that life is doubtful and full,
that God is Himself to us,
and that we are constantly learning...and in constant need of grace.

There are times that I feel like i'm bursting with sighs, that my whole being just winces. its not a bad thing, simply an acknowledgment that He will keep us limping all the way home.

At the end of a distracting week...

Heschel says that life is lived under wide horizons, I love this thought because in it is the reminder that life is full and deep and a journey. I often forget that in the midst of a place like Chicago, I have found that long walks are much needed. This past week has been crazy. It began with writing a paper on the suffering of the Godhead as seen in the crucifixion of Christ. For one of the first times this semester I gave myself to an assignment, and as often happens, did not feel like I did it justice. But that’s not the point; I really enjoyed writing and researching the topic. Since last semester’s Theology of Suffering class I have looked for glimpses of what Dr. Schmutzer discussed in everything I have read. When the time came to finally put some thoughts down on paper I realized how fragmented my thoughts were. The opportunity to study this in addition to other things has led me to consider grad school. That was one of the reasons for the walk, such a thought is a violent irruption into what I had “planned”, and deeper than that, into who I am.

Dad has come to visit for the weekend. It’s good to have him here; I realized how close we became when working together over the summer. We went to Ho Jo this morning for breakfast and I listened to his many ideas of what might come next for him… he always has new plans.

And now, a new week is almost upon us. Silence is sometimes the only healing balm to the wondering soul. As we come before the Fountain of Trembling Silence we may at least know that from Him no secret can be hid, and that the Creator God who sees all is also among us, I love this thought…but still wonder what the implications of this really are. I closed my last paper with this question,

“Perhaps it is enough to say that maybe God is more, or less, responsible for evil than we previously thought. And maybe God is more, or less involved in His creation than we have previously experienced.” Things may not be as straightforward as we think they are. In the midst of a darkness which encompasses and threatens humanity the immanent God of love makes Himself visible, but, in the words of Nouwen, “can we recognize his presence?”

We pray for His peace upon this week, His immanence in our weariness, His joy in our eyes. Have a great week friends.

Friends, i hope this update finds you well. it has been far to long since i have written. that must change. now. this might be a little fragmented, but its a start... :)

Since returning from B'desh almost three months ago it seems like life hasn't stopped. I continued working up in the mountains on my folks cabin till it was time to return for my final year at Moody. During the month back home I had Coen and Carolien from Holland visit as well as Charity, Mariah and Andrea from Moody. Being able to spend time with good friends up in the mountains was so refreshing after the somewhat strenuous time in B'desh.

I have missed spending time with family since college and overseas trips began 4 years ago. This summer was a much needed time with them, and i enjoyed the oppertunity to work with Dad again as well as spending quite evenings with both of them apart from distractions like running water or electricity. :)

One of the best parts of this summer was reading. Nouwen's book The Genesee Diary was sometimes all that got me through days in B'desh while Greene's book The End of the Affair is beyond a masterpiece. Below is an excerpt from a review that i wrote on it,

"Although titled “The End of the Affair”, the reader is left with the impression that the eternal, seeking God does not see ends in stories when Maurice says, “O God, You’ve done enough, You’ve robbed me of enough, I’m too tired and old to learn to love, leave me alone forever.” Perhaps T.S. Eliot said it best in his “Four Quartets”: “In my end is my beginning.” “The End of the Affair” is not a masterpiece because of the brilliance of its faith but because of the intensity of its doubt, it’s characters filled with uncertainty that the God to whom they pray does, in fact, exist. When we are faced with the damning reality that in our eyes our sins hold so much beauty we are forced once again to ask, what is left for us but grace?"

It is that same question which stuck with me coming back from the Islam on Capital Hill event several weeks ago. in response to 5,000 muslims gathering for Jummah prayer on the lawn of the Capital several of us went in partnership with the South Asian Friendship Center to pass out Jesus Videos and talk with those that would communicate. It was intense and refreshing all at once. It is uncomfortable to see people as they really are, made in the image of God and precious in His sight. No one can understand the image of God who has no fallen in love with the Gospel and seen a person as an eternal being. I went down thinking that what i had learned about honor and shame in the muslim world would help and came back realizing that I did not understand grace as i should.

I can't believe its halfway through the semester. so much has happened and I would love to tell you about it, but i don't think either of us has the patience...so in closing these are the books i am reading apart from school:

Facing the Abusing God by Blumenthal
Praying the Psalms by Brueggman
Brighton Rock by Greene

In his book Blumenthal says, "Humanity in its individual and collective existence, is created in God's image, and hence struggles, together with God, to live the depth of that image." what a thought. I have so much I want to write about this, but it will have to wait till another blog post.

I've also decided I want to intentionally write prayers more. I finished one this weekend, its in the style of Brueggman, someone who I am learning to appreciate a lot...

This morning, we pray to the God of furnaces;
we remember the smoke of Sodom and Gomorah,
we remember the sacrificial offering by fire which you saw as right
we remember the heat of the fiery furnace where you met 3 men in the flames.

And, very differently, we remember the ashes of recent years;
we remember the smoke as the towers fell,
we remember the flames as Dresden burned,
we remember the furnaces where six million people were reduced to ash.

Into these manifold ambiguities,
we yield to the depth and fullness of Your being.
Into these irruptions of reality,
we ask for grace to pray in the presence of sufferings.

This morning, we confess that You are the God whose presence filled these many furnaces,
and we submit.
Restore,
Refresh,
Renew,
we pray in the name of the risen, wounded Christ. Amen.

and a few pics....

Mariah, Andrea and i in Colorado

in front of one of the decks we built.

mom and i at PPP

a picture.

This is in the camp. I like this picture because it shows the reality without victimizing it. I also like that the child is looking up. check facebook for some more...

It seemed to continue on forever. Ascending each hill only opened up another valley filled with tarp and plastic sack “houses”. Each sight begged the question, “What is it like to lose, to be among the permanently wounded, the hopelessly defeated?” The people there told us that they left Myanmar because they were being tortured, one of the men, telling a story I won’t repeat here, propped himself up with his arms. The empty space where is right leg should have been gave him the look of half a man. I asked another man, Omar, to tell me his life story, where he came from. Omar told me he didn’t know, he couldn’t remember; there was no beginning, nothing to which he could connect his later life – and how does one relate a life without a seed, a source, a commencement?

Walking further into the camps the word “why” came to mind, and has stuck with me this whole week, I suppose memory can be tenacious. But at the same time this, along with many other things, has driven me to my knees, and I’m thankful for that. Victor Hugo said, “There are thoughts which are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees.” In a different situation about a month ago I asked,

“What does love do?”

I suppose it mourns, endures, and doesn’t close its eyes. Love gets its feet dirty in a lonely garden and its hands bloody on a cross. Love doesn’t sleep sometimes, while at other times it gives rest when nothing else can. It longs for someone to be fed as much as you long to be fed, clothed as you are clothed, sheltered as you are sheltered.

So what does this mean? It means that when I read stories about 60 somali refugees being killed on the border of Ethiopia I will see the body of Omar, dead, and dead and dead again. Or if I read of 5,000 refugees granted status in the States I will see Omar’s smiling face leaving his camp for a new home. A face grants permanence to statistics and desperation to prayer. This is a strong theme in Jewish writing. In the Talmud it says that to kill one person it is like killing the entire human race, and to save one person is like saving all humanity.

The preciousness of one soul. oh God, teach us to see things in the light of eternity.

In other news, i leave tommarrow. crazy. i can hardly believe it. I'm excited and sad and content all at once. It has been such a gift to spend six weeks here. I read this in Nouwen's Genesee Diary yesterday and it sums up how I am doing, "Calmness, repose, even-mindedness, restful joy, gentleness: these are the feelings that describe best my present life. No great hostilities or dissapointments, no great anxieties about leaving or fear about returning home. Nothing of that. It is a grace filled time and God is close."

There is nothing like knowing that God's hand does not leave us, in spite of what we see, wrestle through, question, fail at, or triumph in. He is sufficient, and He is all we have.

The sky was absolutely epic tonight. it seemed to open and transcend everything else. Dark gray clouds surmounted by the oranges and yellows of the late afternoon sun. i really needed to see that.

May we see things in the light of eternity and remember the preciousness of one soul, even if the remembrance brings a deep sigh.

Love you guys.

wanderings

The monsoon rains started last week, but from what I’m told they are not anything like they should be. In Rajshahi, a district to the northwest of Dhaka the rains have not yet come and the rice paddies are quickly drying up. While there, we heard many rumors of widespread famine if the rains don’t come soon. No matter how much it rains here in Dhaka the filth and dirt never seem to wash away. Have I mentioned its overwhelming here? I think so.

Last week several of us traveled north to Sylhet where we met with a man working among the Meitei people, an unreached people group with strong roots in animism and Hinduism. A small church has been started, but the cost has been very high, whole families are ostracized from the village for converting. With a little dodging about we were able to find pictures for all 6 of the language groups for the book. We took the train back to Dhaka on Friday then grabbed another train that night for Rajshahi where, after some difficulties and a lot of walking, we were able to locate 5 more of the language groups.

In a Paharia village my translator and I ducked inside a tea shack and were able to talk to the gathered muslims, about 20-25 men. By way of parables we were able to introduce the gospel, and my prayer is that some seed fell on good ground. Paul writes that the aroma of the gospel of Christ is life to some and the stench of death to others. He follows that with saying, “Who is sufficient for these things?” Piper says that as preachers of the gospel of Jesus Christ we are dividers of the human race. Not because of any effort we do, but simply because we are living as children of the light and that is the stench of death to some. When walking through villages, or looking at the boys at soccer, its almost more than I can bear to think that they are dying. I think that is why Paul asks, “Who is sufficient for these things?” or who can bear this? That hymn, I will arise and go to Jesus, has stuck with me this week as the answer. But that doesn’t make it easier, it only allows us, through the grace of Jesus, to see things in the light of eternity and bring them back to God. The Rebbe Kotzer says, Assuming truth is concealed in melancholy, is that any reason to seek it elsewhere?”

It makes me tremble.

It was hard taking photos and being able to talk very little, and not be able to really “be among the people”. Before I went out I prayed that God would allow me to capture the essence of people, to get a glimpse of how God sees them and to convey the suffering of a soul living apart from God.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday of this week is a soccer tournament which I’m taking part in. We won our first games today and afterwards was able to talk with a few people about Jesus. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but there are few things that make me feel more alive than telling someone about Jesus…I was practically bursting when I got home this evening. I hope your summers are going well, if you get a chance shoot me an e-mail, I would love to hear about how you are doing. May we be constantly reminded that He is sufficient and may we work to make Christ great among us.