Prince Myshkin

Lately, I've been falling asleep in the cities of Petersburg and Moscow. I've been dreaming of princes and inheritances and wealthy families and love's irony. All this because I'm in the middle of Fyodor Dostoevsky's famous work, "The Idiot."



This prince, dubbed the idiot in the first pages, has officially stolen my heart. What a character he is! Social mores have no consequence and certainly no hold, though I am at times perplexed by the flush in his cheeks. He is a man without presumption.

I cannot follow in this bold claim. I see how alltogether presumptuous I am. Ironical that though I am fully aware of this tendency, I still live with a certain snobbish air. How ridiculous it sounds even as I say it! But, it is sadly all too true.

I am on page 181 and the adventure could not be long enough for me. Have you ever absorbed some form of art and desired so intensely to understand it completely that you rush to finish? I'll try to explain. Whenever I read a C.S. Lewis novel or listen to one of my favorite Nickel Creek songs, I am impatient for it to finish so that it can be known - part of my life repertoire. It's like eating a delicacy, so good that you stuff your mouth, only to find that it's over too soon and you now have indigestion. I suppose it's as hard to articulate as it is for me to explain.

I just know that my desire for art, philosophy, and literature seems at times to jump from book to book, page to page in a kind of ADD rhythm. I can hardly focus on the fascinating work in front of me, but upon finishing all I really want to do is go back and absorb it all over again.

If literature were chocolate, I would always have a sweet, sticky face and a tummy-ache. I shall try my best to enjoy Prince Myshkin to the most while I have him.

just a wednesday

Today, a Wednesday, is no special event.

Though it is Spring Break, the Office of Student Life persists tirelessly in preparation of the post-break wave of involvement. Several weeks ago, I was strangely (if not typically) ambitious and decided to design and implement a new set of service projects for Spring Break. I was thinking it could be the other Spring Break alternative, you know? So many people take flight for this short week, impatient to forget the local roots in a search for sun, adventure, and the infamous road trip.

So, three themes emerged: environment conservation, housing equality, and homelessness. Yesterday was environment... and we made the short trek to the nearby nature preserve to prepare the way for a natural spring to gurgle up from underground. We were quite a mess by day's end, but there is something purely human about working with hands (by design, I'm sure).

So today, a Wednesday, was spent at the single resident occupancy housing development... learning about affordable housing and placing toiletries, irons, ironing boards, and alarm clocks into the rooms.

Tomorrow will be spent serving breakfast to the homeless at 13th and Lavaca, then back to campus to make homeless care packages for those panhandlers on Ben White, IH-35, and at that dreadful triangle by Mopac.

There's really nothing magical about it. It's just doing what needs doing. I guess it's strange then, this need to explain. It's less an addition to life and more the stuff of it.

My grandparents went to a revival last night. And I think that's the stuff of life, too. I wonder why we think they are exceptions. Service and revival, could that be indeed what it is all about?

curves and straight lines

curves and straight lines
formed thousand times
walk and not run to
a space of freedom

shattered glass houses
reflect the true amount is
really far less than
we believed

up and down eyes
judge and despise
the way the lines
form to make

before this was Another
before we failed each other
whose hands dug deep
the soil to form

the curves and straight lines
been told thousand times
I praise You
again for this freedom

discovering thankful

So, back in November I thought the Lord was teaching me lessons about dependence. When I caused a collision at a busy intersection (after multiple car breakdowns), I was overwhelmed with disaster. I called it a "season" and walked around with humbled, hunched shoulders diligently learning my lessons.

I did learn, too. I learned that the Lord is faithful. I learned that dependence is crucial. I learned that the Lord gives mercy and grace. I learned that the Body of Christ is built to support one another.

I took a deep breath after Thanksgiving in Iowa, with car keys in hand and 17 hours between me and my next attempt at Austin, Texas. The Lord's presence was always brilliantly beside me, even as I stopped in Joplin, Missouri to find that the key would not turn in the ignition. After stopping at the Nissan dealership, the Toyota place next door, and the best key cutter in town, an angel named Gary (who drives around town in his van) was my final attempt to find a solution. He successfully cut a new key for a small fee and I was on the road once again.

When I returned, I was thrilled to have four wheels of freedom once again. I slid so comfortably into my old, independent shoes. It's surprisingly easy to forget painful lessons, even as the stories were still on my tongue. I shared my great gratitude for community and God's providence, while my soul silently resolved to make my experience a story of the past.

God, in all his grace, sadly saw I needed another reminder. When I returned from Christmas, I found that my freedom wheels would once again be indefinitely removed. The mechanics assured me the repairs would exceed the price of the car and I stationed the Nissan firmly in the driveway, where it stood as a glaring reminder of my humanness until this morning.

This morning, I sold the car to someone who responded to my ad on Craigslist. I am back to that lesson-learning "season" of November. Only now, it's January and I am realizing the elementary idea that God blesses us with a life of dependence.

My circumstances will change in the weeks and months to come. Sometimes I'll need rides to church, sometimes I'll bike to the store, sometimes I'll just stay in, sometimes I'll ask students for a lift, and hopefully sometimes I will be able to offer rides again. Regardless, I am confident that the Lord always seeks a dependent heart. Obedience doesn't always bring blessings in the form we hope. I'm convinced that nothing in life - absolutely nothing - can separate me from the eternal, unconditional love of Christ (Romans 8:38).

Joshua reminded the Israelites to be strong, take heart, and wait on the Lord. I praise God that He is patient as I learn and re-learn lessons. I can see His patient hand as He looks down on me, "Now, child let's discover what it means to depend once again. Know that it is the joy of my heart to see my children display and declare my beauty. I will bless you on your road to discovering thankful."

Thank you, Father. Thank you for allowing me to experience this bump in the road. Thank you for sustaining me in my humble state. Thank you for your promise to sustain me forever.

Let me not forget.

Men Without Chests... and the miseducation of children

The book starts with an eloquent description of an elementary text book.

An interesting object on which to base an argument, but C.S. Lewis does just that in his opening of what was originally a lecture series titled "The Abolition of Man" (the subtitle reads: Reflections on education with special reference to the teaching of English in the upper forms of schools).

With all the nebulous talk of improved education among scholars and legislators, I have long wondered if there is truth to the fabled "subliminal message." After painstakingly reading one of Lewis' most controversial books, I submit that merely wondering at such a possibility is just as damaging as promoting it.

C.S. Lewis refers to the elementary text in question as The Green Book and sets out to argue that the authors teach very little about literature. In fact, The Green Book essentially seeks to 'debunk' the existence of any objective value.

Now, that may not strike you as dangerous or deceiving, but this ideological shift is not so plainly described by the authors. The example Lewis gives from their book cites the "well-known story of Coleridge at the waterfall" (of which I knew little) where one tourist called a waterfall sublime and the other pretty. Lewis writes that Coleridge, a renowned poet, mentally endorsed the first description and was disgusted in the second. This is the excerpt from The Green Book:

'When a man said This is sublime, he appeared to be making a remark about the waterfall... Actually ... he was not making a remark about the waterfall, but a remark about his own feelings. What he was really saying was really I have feelings associated in my mind with the word "sublime," or shortly, I have sublime feelings.'

Keep in mind, the young mind for which this text is intended has little reference for such a proposition. Boys and girls are more concerned with receiving good marks then defending the notion of objective value. And herein lies the danger.

The authors (possibly unintentionally) are making no claims about literature. They are instead suggesting that human sentiment is contrary to reason and ought to be eradicated. Interestingly enough, as Lewis points out, to say something is reasonable or unreasonable means that there must be a standard to make that judgment.

And now, by way of this disastrous summary of Lewis' first chapter, we start to see the development of Men Without Chests. Assuming objective value is unreasonable, Lewis moves toward the logical question: On what grounds does any value exist in the world and what force would move me to protect this fleeting, traditional idea?

Interestingly enough, though this idea is purported in institutions across the country, the opposite is expected in life's vernacular. Students might be taught to disregard value and view all things in relativistic terms, yet when it is time to preserve society, all are called to sacrificially stand on the high grounds of character. Lewis writes that youth are encouraged to strive to be people of character, while being conditioned to believe such traits are unreasonable.

"In a sort of ghastly simplicity," Lewis writes, "we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise."

Strip life of sentiment and you are left with a skeleton. Relativism may be trendy and "progressive," but this kind of progress would lead straight to humankind's demise. There will simply always be those who make the rules and those that follow them. If the rule makers decide life is void of sentiment, they will certainly reap the benefits of this stale standard.

Dangerous? yes. Deceptive? yes. Merely wondering at the possibility of 'value debunked' is just as damaging as promoting it. Can we recapture the necessary distinction of humanity? Can we hold firm the objective value intrinsic to our created nature? I believe we were born for such a purpose.

Maybe someone should write a children's book about it.

this is what they tell you to run after

square your shoulders, girl
determine that jaw
locate your ambition, now
no giving up - set your course

fix those big blues ahead
your goal is your own
so hold it tight
let nobody convince a detour

know what you want, girl
just go out and grab it
coming of age is independence
only you can stop you now

go on now, girl
get what you want in your hands
and grip it tight

but then,
this is what they tell you to run after

careers, adventures, and the single

Why am I going to write on one of the most written about topics in social, single circles? Well, not only am I now one of the target audiences for said discussions and articles, I am also forming my own take on what it means to be a Christ-following single woman looking for adventure in the midst of career-driven prescribed dreams. I realize that just sounded like a personal ad... and please before all of you well-meaning, Christ-following single men looking for adventure in the midst of ________ (fill in blank) send a response, know that this is not an invitation.

I recently read an article published in the opinion section of Forbes magazine titled, "Don't Marry Career Women." Of course, days after it’s publication there was widespread public outcry and Forbes quickly published a counterpoint from one of their female writers. As I read through the first article, the first few paragraphs quickly captured my attention, “Just, whatever you do, don't marry a woman with a career. Why? Because if many social scientists are to be believed, you run a higher risk of having a rocky marriage.”

Michael Noer goes on to establish his argument on the shoulders of these social scientists who give all sorts of discouraging information about divorce, extra-marital sex, marital satisfaction, and the added complication of children.

Being a recently graduated woman myself, who checks the single box on official documents and replies to relationship queries with the most graceful shift in conversation, what Mr. Noer said struck a chord. But, not one that you might think most obvious for my life stage or position.

The Journey
I spent four years in a liberal arts Christian college lusting after adventure and carefully growing the seeds of wanderlust sown early in my childhood on an Iowa farm. Though I trained my mind to filter much of my education through a Christian worldview, I couldn’t help but soak up bits of this overwhelming anthem: dream up anything, find some passion, and set out to realize that dream. It’s true that the American dream shouts this anthem, but the voices I was hearing above the rest were women. My professors, classmates, and celebrated success stories assured me that the only person who could prevent my dreams as a woman… was me.

So, when I graduated and set out on my first adventure to Austin, Texas working as an Americorps VISTA, I had no doubt this time of glorious, “independent woman” freedom would only give birth to other independent ventures. But the excitement is surprisingly wearing off and with it I’m becoming increasingly uncomfortable in these independent shoes.

Adventuring Alone
The single most important factor in my life is my personal relationship with the Living God. The fact that God made us in His image relational, and that He’s placed us in intentional community should be apparent enough. But, my hardheadedness has stretched out this learning process into what is now 23 years. Finally, though, I’ve realized that we weren't designed to adventure alone.

It’s not that I’m an inferior woman who is void of an independent spirit. It is that I am beginning to understand instead my soul’s deep longing comes from the very opposite of independence. Darwin Anderson, from International Messengers, once said in a training session that “independence is just plain not helpful in the mission field. There is no room for it and no need of it.” Even though I strongly agreed when I heard this almost two years ago, I am realizing now that independence is useful in few places. What is all of life, but a mission field?

After about four months here in Austin, I realize that I don’t want to be independent. I don’t want to plan the next exciting adventure where I will uproot from community once again only to go to a new place and start over. The family of believers I have providentially fallen into here is of the most amazing kind. My spirit is conflicted when I imagine my adventures would start in new community only to be pulled from it.

Career woman
But, let’s get to the real meat of it. There’s community and then there’s a spouse. There’s a definite difference between being a part of a Christ-following community and being a part of a “till death do us part” union. Michael Noer wasn't writing about the downfall of career women in the life of the church; he wrote about the negative effects of "career women" in the home. For some reason, my dreams of being a wife and mother have found themselves separate from my dreams of travel, missions, and career. Yet, though I tried for four+ years, I can no more separate these desires in my heart than one could separate the red from white swirls in a candy cane.

Yet, somehow I’ve found myself here. Like it or not, I am this career woman that Michael Noer writes about. I have a degree and I am looking for a well-paying position that would make a dent in the loans from my wonderful, high-priced education.

I realize the cited social scientists had several good points with which I sadly agree. But, Mr. Noer, where does that put me? I am the one you warn against, but also one who quite unwillingly finds herself in this situation.

Thankfully I am well aware that my marital fate does not rest in the hands of any crafty columnist, but instead in the scarred palms of a Sovereign Savior. The desire of my heart is that my next adventure would be with someone whose heart is equally captivated by Christ’s redemptive story. I have full faith God is growing me for an eternal purpose; career or no career, husband or no husband, new city or old farm. I have full faith, but I sure am tired of adventuring alone.