Friday, August 15, 2003
Monday, August 11, 2003
A friend of mine mentioned the other day that I had stopped blogging... I'd kind of forgotten about my blog with all the sudden changes, but I made a decision that I will faithfully blog each week. Today's entry will be particularly long, as I need to catch up with my lack of communication.
Quiet: My confessions
A while back I was reading a book about Cambodia and the torture that many Cambodians faced in the years of the Khemer Rouge. A story in that book that particularly struck me was about a buddhist monk. During the time of the Khemer Rouge many men and women were killed if they were educated, if they were monks and if they were related to anyone that was affluent in education or resources. So the survival of this female monk is a miracle. Many Cambodians found that their only hope of survival was to lie about their background. She, on the other hand, felt that her only refuge was to keep her faith. She continued to dress in monk attire, practice meditation and be honest about who she was. Of course, there is a story as to how she came to be a monk... but what is most striking about her story is that she was unwilling to trade her spiritual survival for physical survival. In all the chaos, in all the tragedy, in all the insanity of her time she survived by clinging to her passion.
As I reflect on this story, I can't remember a time in my life where I have ever had to cling to my faith for survival. I can't remember a time where it is my faith that I had to rely on in order to survive. Each day is a choice: I believe or I don't believe. So often that process is done on my whim. And in my contemplation I realize that a central theme of her story that is lacking in mine is quiet. Both the need for it and the search for it. When I was in seminary I participated in a class on spirituality. One of our assignments was to spend a day (as a class) at a monastary and there was no speaking allowed. It was entitled, 'A day of silence'. I found that the first two hours I was cool. I journaled. I read. I journaled some more. I wrote poetry. And then I couldn't handle it anymore. My class mates were sitting in different areas and the temptation would rise in me to start up a conversation. So I would move to a more isolated area of the monastary and what I found was that I could quiet myself physically, but I could not quiet myself spiritually, emotionally or mentally. I literally felt my life screaming. This remains true today. And i've realized that it is in the quiet where I must rely on God the most. There is no place to hide in the quiet. There is no place to go in the quiet. There is nothing to do in the quiet. There is only me and him.
Most might say, 'Who cares. Why worry yourself over this kind of ineptness?'. But I think why it disturbes me the most is because I know that in the chaos of my life I've created a sort of self-reliance. You see, I know I can do just about anything I put my mind to. When I was an undergrad I decided well I'm not just going to get a Bachelor of Arts... I'll get a Bachelor of Science. I won't stop there I'll get myself a Masters. Oh and while getting a Masters I can work 50 hours a week managing a cafe. I'll change lives and get a job at Friends of Youth and counsel pregnant young women. I can direct a community center... And the list never ends. My conviction is that I've found a sense of pride in my ability to take on any feat. I've found a comfort in my ability to tackle any goal that I set for myself. I've found a sense of independence in my not needing God, because I have my own strength to rely on.
So now some might say, 'What's the big deal? Hard work is the American way'. But I know I am convicted. When I reflect on this I see that there was a place inside of me where I said, 'I will never have to rely on anyone else. I will prove to everyone that I am competant and able'. At the core of my soul is the acclamation that 'I will never again be humiliated and not only will I never be humiliated-- I will prove that I am worthy of goodness'. And 'anyone and everyone' was inclusive of God. My reliability on 'self' is my exclusion of God.
So why now? Why ponder these questions now? My strategy has seemed to work. I guess it is because I've found I can't continue at this pace. But most of all, I've found that I don't want to live in isolation. My fight with silence is my fight with God. I am struggling to keep him at arms length for fear he may really see what I've been desperately trying to keep from everyone: That I am weak. I am in need of grace. In my pride, I don't need a Savior. In my pride, I can save myself. Yet, he calls me to be quiet. For it is there where he longs to find me. It is there where he wants to find us all. It is there where he can reach us, speak to us and commune with us.
Yesterday in church we read Psalm 62... In the end the psalmist says, 'One thing has been said. Two things I have heard. One that God is strong and two that the Lord is loving (DeAnza's translation)'. There it is... Hope. So when will I rest in God's strength? When will I allow him to love me?
Quiet: My confessions
A while back I was reading a book about Cambodia and the torture that many Cambodians faced in the years of the Khemer Rouge. A story in that book that particularly struck me was about a buddhist monk. During the time of the Khemer Rouge many men and women were killed if they were educated, if they were monks and if they were related to anyone that was affluent in education or resources. So the survival of this female monk is a miracle. Many Cambodians found that their only hope of survival was to lie about their background. She, on the other hand, felt that her only refuge was to keep her faith. She continued to dress in monk attire, practice meditation and be honest about who she was. Of course, there is a story as to how she came to be a monk... but what is most striking about her story is that she was unwilling to trade her spiritual survival for physical survival. In all the chaos, in all the tragedy, in all the insanity of her time she survived by clinging to her passion.
As I reflect on this story, I can't remember a time in my life where I have ever had to cling to my faith for survival. I can't remember a time where it is my faith that I had to rely on in order to survive. Each day is a choice: I believe or I don't believe. So often that process is done on my whim. And in my contemplation I realize that a central theme of her story that is lacking in mine is quiet. Both the need for it and the search for it. When I was in seminary I participated in a class on spirituality. One of our assignments was to spend a day (as a class) at a monastary and there was no speaking allowed. It was entitled, 'A day of silence'. I found that the first two hours I was cool. I journaled. I read. I journaled some more. I wrote poetry. And then I couldn't handle it anymore. My class mates were sitting in different areas and the temptation would rise in me to start up a conversation. So I would move to a more isolated area of the monastary and what I found was that I could quiet myself physically, but I could not quiet myself spiritually, emotionally or mentally. I literally felt my life screaming. This remains true today. And i've realized that it is in the quiet where I must rely on God the most. There is no place to hide in the quiet. There is no place to go in the quiet. There is nothing to do in the quiet. There is only me and him.
Most might say, 'Who cares. Why worry yourself over this kind of ineptness?'. But I think why it disturbes me the most is because I know that in the chaos of my life I've created a sort of self-reliance. You see, I know I can do just about anything I put my mind to. When I was an undergrad I decided well I'm not just going to get a Bachelor of Arts... I'll get a Bachelor of Science. I won't stop there I'll get myself a Masters. Oh and while getting a Masters I can work 50 hours a week managing a cafe. I'll change lives and get a job at Friends of Youth and counsel pregnant young women. I can direct a community center... And the list never ends. My conviction is that I've found a sense of pride in my ability to take on any feat. I've found a comfort in my ability to tackle any goal that I set for myself. I've found a sense of independence in my not needing God, because I have my own strength to rely on.
So now some might say, 'What's the big deal? Hard work is the American way'. But I know I am convicted. When I reflect on this I see that there was a place inside of me where I said, 'I will never have to rely on anyone else. I will prove to everyone that I am competant and able'. At the core of my soul is the acclamation that 'I will never again be humiliated and not only will I never be humiliated-- I will prove that I am worthy of goodness'. And 'anyone and everyone' was inclusive of God. My reliability on 'self' is my exclusion of God.
So why now? Why ponder these questions now? My strategy has seemed to work. I guess it is because I've found I can't continue at this pace. But most of all, I've found that I don't want to live in isolation. My fight with silence is my fight with God. I am struggling to keep him at arms length for fear he may really see what I've been desperately trying to keep from everyone: That I am weak. I am in need of grace. In my pride, I don't need a Savior. In my pride, I can save myself. Yet, he calls me to be quiet. For it is there where he longs to find me. It is there where he wants to find us all. It is there where he can reach us, speak to us and commune with us.
Yesterday in church we read Psalm 62... In the end the psalmist says, 'One thing has been said. Two things I have heard. One that God is strong and two that the Lord is loving (DeAnza's translation)'. There it is... Hope. So when will I rest in God's strength? When will I allow him to love me?
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