The paradox: death and life

There is a man that doesn’t have to experience tragedy in life in order to gain the wonders of tragedy. Somehow, he is free to experience life deeply, and even when tragedy comes, he can still feel. He stays free to feel.

I have theories about why. Like that he hasn’t been hurt enough to shut down his feelings; he can be open. Or that during the formative years, he was nurtured in such a way that he doesn’t have to fear. But those theories never turn out quite right. The truth is, I don’t know why, but he is different, somehow, than everyone else.

And I suppose there is a little bit of that man in all of us: the part that puts down our defense mechanisms of avoidance or projection or the blame game or intellectualization or whatever defense we are best at using and lets death come in even though it hurts. The part that accepts life the way it really is, even if it only lasts for a moment.

We feel.

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

thoughts on "him" revisited from Dec 2005

Lord Jesus, Let me make him a better man
and never a worse,
Let me make him more beautiful
and not bring on him a curse.
Let my influence never be from Folly's way.
Let me speak words of Life, come whatever may.

Is it better to be once and then never again
if Folly falls too and sees her end?
let me not detriment the Vow I hold dear!
Then let this prayer be the one that is clear:
"Take me, dear Lord, before Folly has o'retaken;
and let not dreams sleep from fears awakened."

beautiful girls

I babysat some girls a few nights ago.

Have you ever noticed how statements like that sometimes seem like frustrating preliminaries? They provoke in you some emotions, because you understand everything that is associated with that sentence, but to others, it is a frustrating preliminary.

Nevertheless, I babysat some girls a few nights ago.

They were beautiful. It struck me. They were each intrinsically, inherently captivating. The kind that melts your heart and makes you want them to only experience the best all their lives and not be tattered ever by the world and its ways. 10, 7 and 2. I think. They all had the same mother, but three different fathers, and even though I have never met any of their fathers, I could see them in those girls.

The youngest they called Tator, a little girl who is as raw in her beauty as two-year-old girls should be. She behaved in such a way that results from the mindset and heart attitude, "Look at me! Look at how pretty I am!" - a mindset us older girls lose grips on much too quickly.

We watched Old Yeller which produced in me, as movies often do, an array of a deep monologue of thoughts and a representation in symbols of concepts deeper than the actual movie (that is worthy of its own blog), but the present demand for attention is one little girl who didn't care much about anything on the tv, but stared at me as I watched it. In her gaze, she reached her little glommy hand over and touched my arm softly. She was enamored as little children often are with new and had a grin as she looked at me. But there was a question she asked by her gesture. Am I lovable? Do you, new girl, do you love me? Am I lovely?

Of course you are, dear one, "Do you want to come by me?" She nodded in response and came next to me where we watched the movie together.

Organization of a Girl's Deepest Fears

There is a certain girl who longs for Prince Charming. And while she waits, fears grip her. They try to sink their talons deep inside of her and captivate her so deeply that she is far beyond the reach of liberty.

They do for a time. The fears grip her. They make her hate. They make her doubt. They make her feel worthless. They make her feel unlovable.

1) The first fear is that no Prince Charming actually exists.

I have, for a time, believed the series of lies that this fear whispered to me - the lie that there truly isn't anyone who is worth waiting for.

The series of lies might be best introduced by a man's explanation to me: "It's every man's final goal [to get a girl in the sack]. It's built into us." That every man not only has within him an obsessive desire for sex at some time, but also that every man harbors it and lets his mind violate women while licking his chops and not caring for her in any way. He reduces her to a thing that gives him intense, mindless, brute pleasure. He takes no note of how it makes her feel. And he will never change.

This man makes her feel afraid - like the whole world is unsafe and every man is abusive and longs to lord his hot dragon breath all over her. She feels hate. He has no regard for what lies she considers true: she is nothing more than sexually appetizing. She is repulsive in every other way. If she really wants a man, she must settle for one of these because they are the only type of man that there is.

The fear: all men are only capable of caring about what she is and desires her only sexually. He neither cannot nor does not care about who she is or value her in any other way. There are no good men, only no-good men.

This fear, if harbored, gives her a twisted outlook of the way of things. When she compares herself with him, she seems better, higher, somehow more noble. Her place above him may be due to her vision of herself too high, her vision of him too low, or both.

On the side: I really believe that the whole movement of feminism exists because, at least in part, of this world view. Women, and, for that matter, men also, are, in and of themselves, truly amazing - fearfully and wonderfully made. But because of men like these, women question their own worth. After a battle deep inside themselves, those women recognize a truth - they are worth much more than those men think. They launch a crusade on that truth's behalf demanding due honor and respect. They demand appreciation, but the men in their lives deny that they are anything besides sex appeal (or dishwashers or whatever dimishing lie those men believe). Those men lord their power over them, and those women fight to keep their reputation upstanding. They know no other choice because all around them, there exists the whole male dominated world who refuses to acknowledge their worth. The whole world is against them, and they must fight against it.

2) The second fear is that if Prince Charming, a man that is desirable and does not cultivate lust exists, he will not find or he will not pick me.

These lies I have recently stopped believing still make me shudder:
There are too few Prince Charmings. The ratio of good men to good women is like that of a ballroom dancing scene in Pride and Prejudice, "Men were scarce and many were in want of a partner."
Someone else will captivate him first. I will just be lucky enough to be too late. Or I will be on time, but he will have arrived at the place much too early.
Or we will just miss each other and never know it. A fluke will keep us from walking our destined-crossed paths.
Or I will meet him and recognize that he is Prince Charming. I will know him, but he will not find or take the opportunity to know me. He will be far off, and I will watch longingly as he passes by just out of my reach.
Or we will meet and we will know each other, but he will want something other than everything I possess. He will think that I am repulsive, or, at best, entirely uninteresting. I will not only be rejected, but I will know that he has rejected me and will experience the pain of that rejection.

The fear: good men exist who can both appreciate and desire women , but those good men will never desire or appreciate her.

This fear, if harbored, gives her a twisted outlook of the way of things. When she compares herself with him, he seems better, higher, somehow more noble. His place above her may be due to her vision of herself too low, her vision of him too high, or both.

3) The third fear is that Prince Charming exists, but he will not think that I am desirable.

We will meet and we will know each other. He will think I am interesting. He will appreciate me and make me feel like I am worth something. He will want to be around me. We will share dreams and exchange thoughts. We will be of like mind. Life around him will be wonderful because he will treat me like a precious girl, but I will only be that to him, a precious little girl. Like a sister, or a daughter. He will not want or he will not pursue more.

Some can cope with this. Some can not feel sorrow at this. In fact, I am there in my relationships with many men and even hope for this type of relationship with many more men. But the fear comes with the thought that this will be the only type of relationship I will ever experience - that the other part of me that longs to be desired will always go unsatisfied.

The fear: men appreciate her for all that she is, but will never have any desire for her beyond the realm of friendship.

This fear, if harbored, gives her a twisted outlook of the way of things. However, all unhealthy comparisons are gone. He is at the very place where he should be; she also is. She values him. He values her. But thise type of relationship coupled with hopelessness has the potential to leave a girl feeling quite sad. What if she can only be seen as untouchable to every man all the days of her life?

But this girl is beginning to be freed from those lies. In fact, someone keeps on pursuing her freedom from captivity. He prevails over and over again. He whispers to her regarding her first fear, "Men are evil, but I have redeemed some of them. Some of them look like Me because they have gazed on me. I have taught them how to love." About her second fear, He says to her, "I have created you, my love. You are exquisite. You are lovable. You are beautiful. You are captivating. I take utmost interest in you. Be satisfied with My love. It is satisfying." And her third fear - her third fear is a wonder. He takes special care in revealing to her the truth about her third fear. He gives her someone at just the right time. He gives her one of the men that He has redeemed - one of the ones that look like Him because he has gazed on Him. He gives her someone that He has taught how to love, and He lets him love her. Her creator loves her through him. And He says to her, "You will experience this love. You will not be an old maid forever. I have made one just for you. See?"

Ever After

I watched Ever After a few days ago. It's funny how movies, more often than not, send me plummeting to an inward - forever inward - battlefield in my mind. There, everything is deep, raw, and life-altering.

As I sank further into myself after watching it, I related to the heroine of the story. In case it's been awhile, Ever After is sort of a Cinderella story. Towards the end, everything is lost. She has been bought by this really ugly, yucky guy. But, somehow, she worms her way out of the whole situation and is leaving his estate. Just then, the handsome prince comes to save her from the ugly, yucky guy, but she's already saved herself from the ugly, yucky guy; yet, she knows that something's still missing. She's saved herself from some things, but not everything. She still needs to be saved from the destiny of filth that's been handed to her and expected from her. She needs to be saved from being forced to settle for the drudgery of everyday life. She needs to be saved from the absence of hope of Happily Ever After.

The handsome prince does it.

I have saved myself from a lot of painful things - wormed my way out of some pretty helter skelter situations, and still, I need to be rescued. I need someone to be willing to openly view the sorrows that this life has handed to me -big and small- and free me from them. I need a prince charming to say to me, "I'm so glad you've waited for happily ever after. You don't have to let go of your dream. You will live happily ever after, and you will do it in my strong arms."

And then the Lord Jesus whispers to me, "Your hopes about happily ever after will not be dashed to pieces nor forgotten. They will not fail. You will live happily ever after, and you will do it in my strong arms."

The gospel is true. Here's how I know.

* There is a God. He is real. The world shouts of Him as an incredible Designer. Without Him, we wouldn’t live because He gives life to us.
* He came as a man, Jesus Christ. He lived and died as God. He wasn’t just a man; otherwise the world as it is wouldn’t make sense. Spiritual beings yield to Him. History was altered because of Him. People change completely in relationship with Him. And He desires intimacy with me. As I draw near to Him, He draws near to me. I know only by experience. He and I can be close so long as I seek closeness. He is a personal God, but I can only know Him as a personal God as I draw near to Him.
* There is heaven. Our Spirits, renewed by Christ, long for it completely. We have a desire in us for an ultimate utopia- peace, a world without hate and destruction. We long for it from the very core of our beings.
* From the very core of me, I am junk. It doesn’t matter how well my mother raised me, I still have a monster that lives inside of me longing for everything my way and for the world to bow down and worship me. Laugh at my jokes. Think I am wonderful. No matter who suffers, all must think that I am wonderful. Push others down, kt, so that you can be built up! Drown them. No matter how hard I try to stifle it, without Christ, it comes out, pushing its way through the surface of existence. Crowding out charity and benevolence. There are moments when it rests, but not for long. My selfishness always resurfaces in varying degrees for varying lengths of time without Him. And as it is, if there is some sort of perfect world after this one is over, I can’t be there. I need a Redeemer.
* And, if Jesus really is God- if He really lived, died, and rose again from the dead, then He must hold the key to my redemption. If He beat death by dying and then living, then in Him is hope.
* And so the story is. I am covered over by the blood of One who overcame death. Why would I rejoice in His blood and death? But His resurrection follows! It is the symbol of the foreshadowing reality that He conquered the stuff in me that keeps me from perfection.

And something deep inside me calls out, “This God is more real than anything you have ever laid eyes on.”

Ezma

I finished a post a few minutes ago entitled "Ezma". Somehow, it didn't get published, and so now, I am typing its substance again, but not because it was an overly profound post or because it was even mildly great. Mostly, I am posting again because I feel like sitting at my computer and writing.

Last night, I was the last person to bed in my suite. That is no unfamiliar occurrence. Nevertheless, when I looked into the mirror, I noticed a huge piece of food stuck in between my teeth. And what was my first thought, naturally?

"Oh good. I wonder how long that's been there."

I started typing this blog after I finished brushing my teeth last night. Somehow, at 1:30 AM, this whole experience was profound. But as I got sleepier, I went to bed without finishing it.

Perhaps it should have remained unfinished.