a prayer

Father in Heaven, you loved me when I was far from you, and your love has brought me close to you. Everything I have is yours, in that you gave it to me and I also hope to return it all to you.
All my hope comes from the knowledge and faith you have given me. A hope for salvation which means the washing away of our sins that allows us to come into your presence. A hope in the depth and breadth of your knowledge and control of this world, in ways we are only beginning to understand--you have power over all history since before there were people to the time when all your promises are completely fulfilled, and after that, too. You have power over the elements and the hearts of men and women; power over any other power on earth or in the air. Death was conquered by your son in the flesh, Jesus Christ, in his resurrection, and every and any other power is subject to your dominion.
Lord, I pray for your people--give us your strength and wisdom to overcome the obstacles that are set before us. As each of us faces temptation remind us to reach out for your hand and conquer it as is your will. Teach us to recognize in ourselves that which does not belong and . . .

Lord I am weak. Weak, and distracted. Lord instill me with your Spirit--show me the parts of my life that I need to change, that I need to give up to you for you to perfect. Transform my being, that my will may be one with your own; that I may be righteous by your activity in my life, and that every decision I make be based on your truth, the guidance of the Spirit.

Father, I know that you are God and there is no power above you. I know you love us and inspire us to love, but we have enemies as well; these are not our fellow brothers and sisters, or any man or woman. There are powers in this world that are greater than us and that we do not understand. Sometimes they control us, whether we perceive it or not. Lord do not let me fall prey to these powers, but may I always seek and be willed by your Holy Spirit, your Holy Word that is truth.
You have brought me understand every person I meet as a part of your great plan--a moving part, not in a machine, but in a great organism. Every part is a process that, working together with others, works to fulfill your will; you have a plan for each life and a specific reward for each person. Lord, guide my every step, that by my actions, I may lead others to see your light and true love for them.

I pray that as I take on this new project, I may exercise your wisdom and that in every word I speak or type out, your name be glorified. If it is your will, I will do what I can to help this man you have put in my life and not one step further. If it is your desire, I will abandon this project--I don't know if you want me to make money or not. I have to make the decision myself, and I'm not trying to give that up. I simply ask for your guidance and your wisdom to do what is best--for me and for those that I may affect by my decisions. As I delve into these texts, reading, analyzing, summarizing and creating, may no word that comes from it deny your love or your glory. I place these circumstances at my feet and trust in you to provide, Jehova-Jireh, when and how I need things. If it is your will for me to go with out, so be it; still I know you have a plan for me to live well by your standards, and to live responsibly as well. Teach me to face my responsibilities in an upright way, that is honorable to you before all people.

Abba, I would not pray if I thought you would not hear it. Thank you for the balm for my heart that is your closeness. Consume and transform me; show me how I can give ever more of myself to you and your cause, that I may gain more and more of you in my life.
I thank you and praise you for daily speaking to me. Teach me to obey your word and conserve your Spirit in my life, reminding me of your instruction.
Hear my prayer, O Lord, by your son. I remember his anguish, the pain he suffered that we might be redeemed to you. Lord show me how I may suffer as well for the propagation of your glory.
This is my prayer. Let it be so.

Fate, Mr. Death, and The Man Who Wasn't There

Tonight I went to see a free concert at the Hatch Shell, where the Boston Landmarks Orchestra played Walter Kim's world premiere Soaring Over the Vast Expanse, and Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto in D minor, concluding with his 4th Symphony. Mt musician friend who I met there pointed out a Fate motif in the first and last movements of the 4th Symphony, expressed in an A flat chord, something like Beethoven's 5th. According to my brief research, I gathered that the composer's expression, as a Romantic, was more personal and relational than fits my imagination at the moment, but the simple statement, "Fate," got me thinking.

I also recently watched a film and documentary that were oddly connected by the topic/event of capital punishment. In the first, we follow a character who is lead through a chain of personal decisions that cause his world to gradually explode in his face, capitulating in a final flash in the electric chair. The film is the Coen brother's The Man Who Wasn't There, and Ed Crane fits very neatly into the titular description. He is largely ignored or unnoticed by the people he interacts with--and this is a man who hardly ever talks, played by Billy Bob Thornton--and as a result, dealing with a more active, albeit criminal, man turns his life upside down. While it affects his life, the most poignant point is that his decisions impact the people around him, but they hardly know how or why. He makes a few decisions, and the way they knit into the rest of the story--the things out of his control--lead to, in short, his Fate. The man who was hardly noticed is finally and completely removed from society when he is accused of a murder he did not commit, but cannot own up to in order to cover up the murder he did commit. In short his decisions catch up with him, but not in a way you'd expect them to, which is the artfulness of the writing and direction of the film.

On the other hand is Mr. Leuchter, of Errol Morris' Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter Jr., who designed and improved instruments of various state capital punishment facilities, as a proponent of capital punishment, not torture. He is more known for his involvement in the Canadian trial of a Mr. Zündel, who questioned the legitimacy of claims about the Holocaust. Morris does an effective job of neither supporting or outright damning Leuchter's work, although he clearly demonstrates the folly in Leuchter's persistence in his beliefs--he gives the viewer reasonable doubt, in a sense.

I'd recommend, with discretion and a cup of tea, both of these films, for their evocative narrative and their clear portrayal of the human condition. Ed Crane has hopes and morals, but they are crashed in on by the world around him when he thinks he might be able to get away with it. In the end, he was outdone by others' evil on top of his own. You sympathize with him, because you don't think it was all his fault--he made some bad choices, but only because others messed things up for him. You can see that he had pure intentions, and was only okay with hurting people who had done him wrong first (it's a start, I guess). It's something you can still be hopeful in, in away, despite its tragic elements. Leuchter, on the other hand, seems to fall prey to his own ego, having started with a dignified basis on his morals and beliefs. Once he decides to become an anti-Holocaust proponent, his world crumbles around him, and he is a broken man, Morris points out. While we aren't told directly that he is right or wrong, we are given enough reason to understand how he might be wrong. But since his life is destroyed, all he has left to live for are other Revisionists magnifying his single study, whether he was qualified to assert his findings or not. In both cases we are given the picture of a simpleton, to quote their detractors. They seem to be in over their heads, and their own decisions have spun out of their reach, out of their control. In short, they are lost to Fate, and can only await whatever Fate has in store for them.

The World is Sad and Broken.

I don't have much to say today.
It's been a rough weekend, but if I was broken, God's already fixing me in many ways.

Today's reflection is after watching these great short films.
http://www.unstage.com/2010/03/15-great-short-films/

some are about love, but many if not all are about brokenness. Few are hopeful, but they are all touching. I'm glad these artists have a way to express things they feel, but these don't show healing, for the most part. What interests me is that they, in being short films, are only pieces of a story, and don't assume they can tell the whole thing.
I recommend them, but only if you're ready to feel sad, and have someone on hand to remind you that sadness isn't all life is about.

on Tolstoy's A Confession

"What happened was that the life of our class, the rich and learned, became not only distasteful to me, but lost all meaning. All our activities, our discussions, our science and our art struck me as sheer indulgence. I realized that there was no meaning to be found here. It was the activities of the labouring people, those who produce life, that presented itself to me as the only true way. I realized that the meaning provided by this life was truth and I accepted it."

-Tolstoy, from "A Confession", Chapter 10

"But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you.

-Jesus, Matthew 5:39-42

I'm partway through Leo Tolstoy's "A Confession" and must stop to reflect on it. At the close of the tenth chapter, Tolstoy has begun elaborating on the difference between the hypocritical belief of his own class, which might profess Christianity and elaborate theology but shows no connection between that and their daily living, in which they pursue pleasures, material gain and vanity, etc. He observes in the working class--rural, that is--a sincere connection, albeit superstitious, between their faith and their lives.

He has just begun to explain that his only hope for life consists in the way that faith trumps reason. By his understanding, reason alone will always conclude the meaninglessness of life, because (or when) it does not assume the same things that faith does. By this, he sees a disconnect between the finite (our lives) and the infinite (God? the universe? that which comes before and after life? perhaps causing it?), and is only able to reconcile them by accepting faith--the exact nature of which he has only begun to describe.
He spends two years living among the field laborers, according to their lifestyle, I presume, and is gratified by its sincerity. These days I have also been brought to face class difference in a way that shows that neither is better than the other.

By dressing nice--in slacks, shoes and shirt, maybe more--I stand out among the middle class as having good taste, and caring about how I look. However, dressing this way compared to the lower class sets me above them. Whether or not I dress professionally or casually, either way, it puts me among the "white-collar" workers or the snobby, preppy, yuppy, etc. and by asserting that status, I am asserting my not-poverty. I am asserting the opportunities that I have had and might have in the future, and hope to gain more by.

Nice clothes are among my possessions, and I have too much of that, too--I know that all too well for my move out here, and from school. I only left 1/4 in NY, and have three bags plus hang-up clothes and books, electronics etc. I have too much.

This became most clear to me on Friday. I was walking to the T with a friend. He was moving to his new apartment, and I helped him carry his bags to the station, and we parted ways from there. As we approached the station, we passed a young couple who was walking down the sidewalk, and the guy asks me, "Do you have some spare change for a cup for spare change?" It took me a moment to understand what he was saying, and then I did what I usually do: wagged me hand and said, "Sorry" or something of the sort. As we kept walking, then, they were right behind us, and I soon realized that he was talking indirectly to/at me. The only thing I remember was, "Ya need to work hard to have your luggage . . ." in a mocking tone that was all too telling of his disdain toward my obvious surplus of belongings, while he had apparently less.

You can probably picture me easily: a college T-shirt on, immitation Ray-Bans held together by a paper clip, colorful beanie, and a backpack, with a rolling duffel in tow. My ears didn't turn red because they were already sunburned, but I kept my serious expression safely, because we were only a few yards from the subway steps. As we descended, I breathed easier, and glanced over with a puzzled expression to my companion, who I'm sure had heard the same as I had.

I justified my actions to myself--I don't like giving out money, who knows what they'll do with it, spend it on drugs or what, etc. But I knew none of that really held water. Later that evening, as I mulled over Tolstoy, I remembered the Matt 5 verses from above. I should've given him my backpack. or I should've gone and bought him a cup to use. and the like. Instead, I ignored that couple's need--whether or not it was a legitimate use of money--and kept a stiff upper lip for the sake of my pride.

Now I see how that was foolishness. In order to keep my life, I must give it away, right? So I could've given away anything I had on me--which included some cash--and may or may not have made a difference. It's not for me to judge the legitimacy of their claims (Mt. 7:1f), to say what is best, or right or wrong. If I gave them what I had packed or planned for using tomorrow, so what? I needn't worry about tomorrow, if I am doing God's work (Mt. 6:25f). Even if I am to starve or wear old clothes, that matters little to the infinite purpose beyond my day-to-day that my finite existence is defined by.

What would I do if I could go back there? I don't know, but I might start by giving them some change, or whatever they needed for that day. What I hope to do if I see them again is to apologize: for my ignorance, for my lack of compassion. My first thought in response is that those words might be lost on them, but, again, I can't judge how bright they are or how responsive they will be from my writing desk.

I will conclude with one more account. I saw this scene when I was a block away, on my way back to the house. Ahead of me and my friend were a mismatched trio, two ordinary looking, and one with a shaved (or partly shaved head) and dark, soiled clothes, chains etc. The odd one out stopped to bum a smoke of another lady on the sidewalk then ran to catch up with the others. They were about to cross the street as we were turning to the side street my house is on when the girl in the group came back, and squatted down next to a fellow who was sitting dejectedly against the telephone pole. He had a stuffed military pack on his back, some sort of documents in hand and might have been crying. The girl who stopped by him caressed his face (yeah, out of nowhere) and asked what was wrong? He waved her along and insisted it was nothing. She stepped away at first, but returned with deeper concern, pressing him further. I did not stay to see how it played out, but for all I know, that was compassion. That is how I envision work with the less fortunate: coming along side them, showing compassion, and showing them how and why they can get back on their feet.
Is that a calling for me?

Owning my life's direction or something

I was going to write about some big ideas yesterday or the day before, but got distracted and demotivated. Now I wrote this instead.

These days, I'm having to face myself. I haven't been doing the best in the sense that I'm not living up to my own standards. I'm not producing much for the amount of energy that I spend, and I haven't really been trying. I have my paints, I have my books, I have empty pages, I have people around me and through the internet, oh and I have the internet. So I've spent my time reading inane, pop-interest articles, web-comics, and watching Youtube videos--and also playing TF2, and similar mind-numbing fun.
In this time I haven't gotten a job, or made any noticeable intellectual progress in my reading, writing or artistic production. Maybe just a few baby steps is all. This leads to my feeling like an ineffectual, savings-spending parasite of society. I'm kind of just hanging on--and not even for dear life, either. But having some savings to dig out of, the only pressure I feel to change is from the people who care about me, who believe I can do good things and want me to succeed--or in the least that I have the duty to do so.
My first reaction is just to wait it out, wait for an opportunity to come and jump on that train when it gets here. (Only I don't know if I'm at the right station for a train that can get me there before long, if that makes sense.) On second thought, though, I can't let myself feel good from not doing anything. This past weekend a pastor at Park Street Church reminded me that self-gratifying behavior and the pursuit of easy happiness (which, he didn't note, also points to the impression of cheap grace) is not the healthiest way for a Christian to live. We need to live for God's purpose and we will be duly rewarded in His time--even if that means only when we get to Heaven. And even that sounds shady to me, because it sounds like people are still egotistically looking for the best reward they can get. But I digress. My point is that rewards, including feeling good about myself or just plain feeling good or content, need to come from good things--good effort, a job well done, and working to the right purpose, and so forth.
It confuses me (not in an entirely conscious way, I suppose) when I don't do my best or don't work hard but still get good things. In an immediate sense, I do have good things, but in another, broader sense I can see how others have it better.
Hard work always pays off, and I can demonstrate that by looking at a few resumes. Besides my actual studies at Houghton, the one things I've put a significant amount of time toward has been the SGA. While I definitely developed skills and connections through that, it helps me most in the mark it puts on my resume: it shows I'm involved and have been singled out in some way by my peers to act as a leader on their behalf. It says something, but not everything. Other things I've put time into in the past year have been Halo (2, 3, ODST, Reach, mapbuilding), riding my bike up a steep hill, and making passable meals. These are life skills, in a way, and I suppose the latter two are fruitful to my well-being. They're time investments.
A friend of mine has multiple blogs that he reads constantly, for information and entertainment, plays more games than I do, and writes way more than I do. This is good for him, because he is pursuing a career in the realm of writing. He spends time on imgur and other general interest sites, too. But he manages to do so in a way that he profits from it. Sifting through mounds upon mounds of information, gimmicks, and entertainment daily, he still manages to produce. During this past year, he wrote/drew for, edited and published a weekly comic magazine at our college, passed his classes--which also involved reading and writing components--, wrote occasional articles for the student newspaper and kept up a blog or two while he was at it. The funny thing is, he doesn't have a full job for the summer either, and spends lots of time in a basement with his thoughts and video games. Ok, it's not funny, he's in a similar boat that I am. But I feel like he has more to show for it.
I've been thinking about the alternative ways that people get along in this new day and age. Somehow, people manage to make a living with webcomics, blogs and YouTube. I'm not considering that myself, really. It'd take too much to have the renown and rapport to make a living from it. Incidentally I have the same opinion of art, although I constantly repress it. To me, it's just a hobby, a highly valued one (just not financially so).

Still, what I'm beginning to realize is all I need right now is a desire to keep going. Actually, to get going. And to fuel that, I have a vague sense of self-efficacy--left over from what I have achieved, despite how I've failed to do so of late--and I have the respect and support of my loved ones. The way I see it, that oughta be enough to get my life going here. Oh, all that and the hope Paul talks about in 2 Cor. 3:12. Yeah, that's important, too.

[Post-weekend reflection: Matt. 6:25ff especially v. 26, 30, 31. I have spoken/written as a "man of little faith" and was wrong in doing so. God has spoken to me this weekend, and I know that he has definite plans for my life, whether I ever fully understand them or not. That is not up to me--I have only to trust in Him, and seek Him; to do the opposite of what seems natural--to give up my life that I might keep it; to find joy by carrying my cross with Jesus.]