What is it about mountains that makes my soul feel peace?
My husband and I took a short vacation to Colorado to celebrate our one-year anniversary. We were both exhausted, worn, and in need of fresh air.
Our second day here, I realized that I still struggle with a very deep-set fear of being un-beautiful. This is a fear that I have fought time and time again since my freshman year of high school; usually fear wins. It is hard for me to even admit this because I am strongly feminist in many ways--women are not defined by their outward appearance but by their intelligence, character and motivations; women should be independent and not care about what others think of them; women are valuable because of their contributions to the world and not because they ‘adorn’ the world like so many ornaments on a Christmas tree.
But I do. And I know that no matter how much I desire to be transformed into who Jesus wants me to be, that desire will be hindered by my losing battle with the fear of being physically unacceptable.
The mountains draw this fear out of me and make me confront it.
------------------------
Our third day here, we were driving with a dear friend up into the mountains and a song came on the radio. I’m not one to listen to Christian radio (that’s another post for another time), but Jesus dedicated a song to me and I couldn’t resist. The song is called “Beautiful Things” - here is my favorite rendition of it:
Gungor's "Beautiful Things" (Relevant Live Version)
Much later that same day, I went on a walk by myself. The path I was following was paved with sand and fine gravel--bits of dust, really. As I alternately looked down at the ground to watch my feet and again up to the mountains out in the west, I realized that those beautiful mountains--those strong, calming, unexpected, stormy and lofty towers--are made of sand, fine gravel and bits of dust.
The ugly and unnecessary had been swallowed up into relentless Beauty.
And those mountains? Change, movement, and age continue to remake the character of each one.
They are not through yet, and neither am I.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
"Des hommes et des dieux"
A disclaimer: Of Gods and Men is a French film by Xavier Beauvois, so if you don't know French or you can't handle watching subtitles, this movie is not for you.
If you fall into neither of these categories and you are remotely interested in a good/true story, history, Christian/Muslim relationships or excellent cinema, then please watch this movie. You won't regret it. And I'm pretty sure it's still at your local redbox.
Of Gods and Men is set in the beautiful mountain landscape of Algeria back in the 1990s and is based on a true and as yet unfinished story. We are introduced to a small Algerian town and its people by way of a brotherhood of Catholic missionary-monks who are there to love the people with Christ's love. It becomes apparent that the relationships between the brothers and the villagers are friendships that run deeper than a quick glance would reveal.
Each of the brothers contributes to daily chores and has his own special place at the simple monastery where they live. They are completely self-sufficient and do not drain any of the local resources--they grow their own food, make their own clothes and construct their own buildings. Their humility in learning the ways of the locals and in knowing the locals themselves demonstrates a deep desire to do something other than 'community development' or vacation (which are two of the ruts that missionaries stereotypically fall into).
------------------------------------
Rather abruptly, we are confronted with brutal scenes of the beginnings of Algeria's civil war. The brothers know that they could become targets of Muslim extremists but their leader, Christian, is convinced that the best way for them to live is to live as though dead to anything but Christ. So, they stay on. Each of the brothers experiences his own wrestlings--some more visibly and forcefully than others. An honest monk, Christophe, lies awake at night almost yelling his prayers. He is only trying to make a silent God listen.
The night comes when the feared Muslim extremists bang down their monastery gate and enter the compound demanding medical attention for one of their wounded fighters. The beloved doctor, Luc, tends to the man just as he had attended dozens of small children earlier in the day. After the warrior had been helped, Christian pointed out that it was a sacred night for them: Christmas Eve. The rebel leader apologizes for the interruption, then slips away, hidden by darkness.
The brothers, through their own personal struggles and prayers and internal turmoil, eventually are of one mind--to stay in Algeria is the only true proof of the Love that has been given to them; to move back to France would destroy all that they had previously shown of that Love. To stay: faithfulness. To leave: betrayal. And through all of the struggle, their rhythms of prayer, worship and work never change; their bonds with the villagers and each other grow even closer.
Eventually, the realities of war overtake them and all but two of the monks became hostages and then fatalities of a bitter rebellion that is still rumbling in Algeria.
But you know, and I know, that when those men were taken, their stories did not end. Because their lives ended well--in faithfulness and love--their stories were resurrected again and again in that little town. Twenty years later, and we're still talking about what love did. Love stayed, love healed the terrorist, love prayed, love worked, love did not fight, love did not run away.
Impossible, you say? Probably.
But, with hommes the things that are impossible are possible for Dieu.
If you fall into neither of these categories and you are remotely interested in a good/true story, history, Christian/Muslim relationships or excellent cinema, then please watch this movie. You won't regret it. And I'm pretty sure it's still at your local redbox.
Of Gods and Men is set in the beautiful mountain landscape of Algeria back in the 1990s and is based on a true and as yet unfinished story. We are introduced to a small Algerian town and its people by way of a brotherhood of Catholic missionary-monks who are there to love the people with Christ's love. It becomes apparent that the relationships between the brothers and the villagers are friendships that run deeper than a quick glance would reveal.
Each of the brothers contributes to daily chores and has his own special place at the simple monastery where they live. They are completely self-sufficient and do not drain any of the local resources--they grow their own food, make their own clothes and construct their own buildings. Their humility in learning the ways of the locals and in knowing the locals themselves demonstrates a deep desire to do something other than 'community development' or vacation (which are two of the ruts that missionaries stereotypically fall into).
------------------------------------
Rather abruptly, we are confronted with brutal scenes of the beginnings of Algeria's civil war. The brothers know that they could become targets of Muslim extremists but their leader, Christian, is convinced that the best way for them to live is to live as though dead to anything but Christ. So, they stay on. Each of the brothers experiences his own wrestlings--some more visibly and forcefully than others. An honest monk, Christophe, lies awake at night almost yelling his prayers. He is only trying to make a silent God listen.
The night comes when the feared Muslim extremists bang down their monastery gate and enter the compound demanding medical attention for one of their wounded fighters. The beloved doctor, Luc, tends to the man just as he had attended dozens of small children earlier in the day. After the warrior had been helped, Christian pointed out that it was a sacred night for them: Christmas Eve. The rebel leader apologizes for the interruption, then slips away, hidden by darkness.
The brothers, through their own personal struggles and prayers and internal turmoil, eventually are of one mind--to stay in Algeria is the only true proof of the Love that has been given to them; to move back to France would destroy all that they had previously shown of that Love. To stay: faithfulness. To leave: betrayal. And through all of the struggle, their rhythms of prayer, worship and work never change; their bonds with the villagers and each other grow even closer.
Eventually, the realities of war overtake them and all but two of the monks became hostages and then fatalities of a bitter rebellion that is still rumbling in Algeria.
But you know, and I know, that when those men were taken, their stories did not end. Because their lives ended well--in faithfulness and love--their stories were resurrected again and again in that little town. Twenty years later, and we're still talking about what love did. Love stayed, love healed the terrorist, love prayed, love worked, love did not fight, love did not run away.
Impossible, you say? Probably.
But, with hommes the things that are impossible are possible for Dieu.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Soul Space.
I promised weeks ago a review of "Des Hommes et Des Dieux." I promise I haven't forgotten my promise; I will review it and I will do my best to persuade you to see it, soak in it, dwell on it and never forget it.
In the meantime, a tasting (#4 in the series).
#1: Communication
This has been on my mind a lot because I've been forced out of my communication comfort zone this summer--pushed, shoved and otherwise prodded out of old/regular patterns (often unhealthy) and into new/unexpected patterns (hopefully healthy). I've reached the point in my life where I am in positions to make decisions that affect other people and where I have to communicate important things to other people and I've blown it over and over again in the past six months or so. Here's what I've learned:
Old communication: immediate, self-provoked, self-centered, short-term, short-sighted, careless
New communication (and this is by no means perfected): careful, God-and-others-centered, wise, long-term, honest, guarded
#2: Soul Space
What does it look like for you to have enough space for your soul to grow, hurt, feel, heal and rejoice? I've partially learned this lesson about myself many times over the past several years; I know that it involves intentional time taken for reflection, solitude, prayer and community. But this summer, I learned it in a searing, 'thou-shalt-not-forget' kind of way. This summer, I said "Yes" too many times and the practical consequence of that was that my soul did not have enough space. It lacked nourishment, it got droopy and it wasn't giving off much life.
I've been able to juggle similar consequences to "yes" before, but I couldn't this summer and I paid the price. My internal exhaustion has manifest itself in dozens of ways, both internally and externally. I realized about two months ago that I can't do this anymore. I know how I'm wired; I know that perhaps my soul needs extra time and space than others; I know, I remember and I say "no" more often than I used to.
#3 The Stupid Money System
I remarked to my husband the other day that I've always known I didn't like money for a reason. Here thousands of Americans are scrambling around and proclaiming doomsday because they've staked thousands of dollars on a gamble (sorry, Wall Street, it is what it is), while tens of thousands of Somalians are dying the slow, brutal death of starvation and Syrians are being terrorized because they want political freedom.
How does this...
...get displaced by this?
(taken on the New York Stock Exchange)
Money is Stupid, & Twisted. I wish I were brilliant enough to figure out a way around it. But it's true, what Jesus said--you can't serve Money and God.
#4: Advocating for The Other
I went to the opening of The Help with my husband and a couple of other friends (if you haven't yet seen it, you need to). I was powerfully reminded of what a dear mentor in seminary told me: "One of the most powerful ways to demonstrate and do love is to advocate for those who are not like you, for those who are Other."
After the movie, I was almost paralyzed by grief. I was thinking about racial prejudice, and famine and war and the injustice of the world in general. It seems like I can't contribute at all; that what I am trying to do isn't even a drop in the Pacific Ocean of Wrong that needs to be made Right. I had dreams last night; dreams that somehow combined the movie with Libya and sadness and the primeval desire for things to be the way they should be.
This morning, the Psalmist confronted me:
I know that the LORD secures justice for the poor
and upholds the cause of the needy.
Surely the righteous will praise your name,
and the upright will live in your presence.
(140:12-13)
I can't fathom this, and I wish that the security and upholding of justice would come more easily to my human eyes. But what else can I do but trust that the Author of paradise can remake it yet?
In the meantime, a tasting (#4 in the series).
#1: Communication
This has been on my mind a lot because I've been forced out of my communication comfort zone this summer--pushed, shoved and otherwise prodded out of old/regular patterns (often unhealthy) and into new/unexpected patterns (hopefully healthy). I've reached the point in my life where I am in positions to make decisions that affect other people and where I have to communicate important things to other people and I've blown it over and over again in the past six months or so. Here's what I've learned:
Old communication: immediate, self-provoked, self-centered, short-term, short-sighted, careless
New communication (and this is by no means perfected): careful, God-and-others-centered, wise, long-term, honest, guarded
#2: Soul Space
What does it look like for you to have enough space for your soul to grow, hurt, feel, heal and rejoice? I've partially learned this lesson about myself many times over the past several years; I know that it involves intentional time taken for reflection, solitude, prayer and community. But this summer, I learned it in a searing, 'thou-shalt-not-forget' kind of way. This summer, I said "Yes" too many times and the practical consequence of that was that my soul did not have enough space. It lacked nourishment, it got droopy and it wasn't giving off much life.
I've been able to juggle similar consequences to "yes" before, but I couldn't this summer and I paid the price. My internal exhaustion has manifest itself in dozens of ways, both internally and externally. I realized about two months ago that I can't do this anymore. I know how I'm wired; I know that perhaps my soul needs extra time and space than others; I know, I remember and I say "no" more often than I used to.
#3 The Stupid Money System
I remarked to my husband the other day that I've always known I didn't like money for a reason. Here thousands of Americans are scrambling around and proclaiming doomsday because they've staked thousands of dollars on a gamble (sorry, Wall Street, it is what it is), while tens of thousands of Somalians are dying the slow, brutal death of starvation and Syrians are being terrorized because they want political freedom.
How does this...
...get displaced by this?
(taken on the New York Stock Exchange)
Money is Stupid, & Twisted. I wish I were brilliant enough to figure out a way around it. But it's true, what Jesus said--you can't serve Money and God.
#4: Advocating for The Other
I went to the opening of The Help with my husband and a couple of other friends (if you haven't yet seen it, you need to). I was powerfully reminded of what a dear mentor in seminary told me: "One of the most powerful ways to demonstrate and do love is to advocate for those who are not like you, for those who are Other."
After the movie, I was almost paralyzed by grief. I was thinking about racial prejudice, and famine and war and the injustice of the world in general. It seems like I can't contribute at all; that what I am trying to do isn't even a drop in the Pacific Ocean of Wrong that needs to be made Right. I had dreams last night; dreams that somehow combined the movie with Libya and sadness and the primeval desire for things to be the way they should be.
This morning, the Psalmist confronted me:
I know that the LORD secures justice for the poor
and upholds the cause of the needy.
Surely the righteous will praise your name,
and the upright will live in your presence.
(140:12-13)
I can't fathom this, and I wish that the security and upholding of justice would come more easily to my human eyes. But what else can I do but trust that the Author of paradise can remake it yet?
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