Guilty

A part of me feels guilty for yesterday's post, but not because of its content. Actually, I find that having an outlet for brutal honesty in written form is extremely cathartic and, being that just about no one reads this this venue seems a harmless and appropriate place to let that honesty be expressed.

No, actually the guilt comes from the fact that I kind of feel like I only complain on here and as this is a place to get out my frustrations and thoughts on things, this blog ends up becoming a sometimes rather negative forum. And that's not me--or at least the whole of me. Like I said, I'm glad for the dearth of readers, and this is one of the reasons why!

Anyway, yesterday was an extremely low point. I've been in Italy for about 10 days now and it hasn't all been tears (though there has been no lack of them). Actually, there has been plenty of smiles and interesting incidents, and humorous attempts at Italian. Which, by the way, still leaves much to be desired.

So, I thought today I'd post something more positive, and maybe get out of my head in on a more constructive note. Even if it's not about Rome. ;) So here goes.

I've undertaken the task of memorizing James right now. I'm still on chapter 1, even if it's been weeks. ;) I've done Beth Moore's study on this book twice, and it's a powerful one. In the first chapter of James he talks about a mirror, and about how one who hears the Word and doesn't do it is like someone who forgets what he actually looks like in the mirror. The choice of a mirror in this passage fascinates me, and I've always kind of felt that there's something deeper to the fact that James chooses a mirror here and not some other metaphor. He makes savvy use of metaphor throughout the book of James, so I've always thought that this one must have some significance as he didn't choose to use something else.

So, as I've been thinking about it while memorizing (which, by the way, brings a world of new perspective to the Bible, you see things in memorizing that you wouldn't in just reading!), this is what I've come up with:

James 1:22-25
But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing.

The "Word" is like a mirror because it describes us, it describes us how we were made to be as humans. It describes us as we are, as fallen beings, and it describes us how we are meant to be. It's not prescriptive law, it's descriptive law.

Prescriptive law is, for example, legislation that demands a certain kind of behavior, or proscribes a certain kind of behavior: "thou shalt not.."

Descriptive law is law that eventually becomes enacted and written down because it describes a practice or principle that is already in place and established otherwise. This is what the Word is, it's God saying "hey, I made you, I know what you're supposed to be, and if you want to get there, let be describe it to you."

This is what is "the perfect law, the law of liberty," because it at last liberates us to become what we were originally intended to be. So, when one hears (reads) the Word and doesn't do it, it's like looking at what you are and forgetting it--like, denying reality and "deceiving yourselves." So, the one to does and doesn't just hear will be blessed. Why? Because that's the way it was set up in the first place, and the Word just describes the system.

That's what I've come up with so far. Still chewing on it. There's so much in this chapter, and it's a weird feeling when it starts becomes become a part of you and integrate into your theology and worldview. I guess that's what James means when he says "receive the implanted word, which is able to save your souls" in verse 21.

So, there's a more positive post, for all 2 of you who read this. ;) Now, I'm going to be super weird and go watch a French movie with Italian subtitles at the French cultural center here in Rome...very strange I know, but I'm hoping that it will help me with my Italian, as I often have to translate in my head from French instead of English. We'll see.

A presto.

I don't even know what to call this....

I’ve heard it said that God is a crutch, that organized religion is for the weak, etc.

I guess a part of me agrees with the “organized” part of that phrase, because in my experience—to human sensibilities, at least—God often feels anything but organized. And this faith thing? It feels like anything but a crutch.

Actually, it feels more like God continually kicking out the crutches from underneath my arms and telling me to walk. That I can walk. And then somehow standing by while I figure out how and what "walking" even means.

Sure, there may be huge comfort in faith. But if anyone thinks that it’s easier, they haven’t done it—or haven’t done it right. Make no mistake, I’m not trying to praise the way I do faith. Frankly, right now, I have my good days and my bad days and this one is one of the latter.

I’ve been here before. I’ve been in this place of “I don’t know what the f*** I’m doing here or why and I just want to go home” and where I’m on my face in tears most mornings wondering what, just WHAT God is thinking (?*&(*Y*&^&$). And there is, oddly, a sense of comfort in that. It’s so weird. It’s like, at least I know where to go. It's not easier, though, it's just deeper. I'm not sure I can even put it into words, so I'm just going to leave it at that.

When I pray, in my mind’s eye I’m usually in the Holy of Holies in the Tabernacle. I’m not sure why the Tabernacle and not the Temple, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that the Tabernacle was mobile. And in a desert…. Anyway, there’s a very special and unique sense of home for me in this place in my mind’s eye. It’s a place where I sit at God’s feet and He doesn’t care what a mess I am, He just wants me to be honest about who I am and where I am.

I wish I didn’t cry so easily. I hate it. People think I’m crazy or emotionally fragile…and maybe I am crazy but actually, the tears have so far been my only way of getting up again, moving forward, catharsis. I might be emotional, but I don't think it's a weakness really. If I didn't know where to go with it, I think it would be. But the Tabernacle floor in my minds eye is swept and wiped clean by the liquid produced by my emotional life, I know where to go with it. And I'm not apologizing for it, I'm sick of apologizing for being emotional.

I’m rambling. But whatever. I just don’t care. Today, I’m ready to throw in the towel. I’m ready to go home.

There. I said it.

I’m not okay today. I don’t want to be here, it hurts, it’s expensive, and it just seems like the last two times I’ve been here in Italy God has asked some very difficult things of me.

Last time, I followed through. But I’m not going to lie, there’s a part of me that regrets it. It just hurt and never got resolved. What was that?! This time I’m actually (and honest to God), not sure I can do this. I am not being dramatic when I say I actually don’t know if I have it in me to stay and have faith that I’m here for a reason and that this is going to be good. I hate admitting that, because it feels weak, but again I kind of don't care. To be honest, if I hadn’t promised that I’d be at a wedding on July 1st, I might actually get on a plane home. I’m done. I don’t want to do this. It’s too hard. God, you win. I’m out.

I’m sorry if that’s too honest. But I can’t be something I’m not. I know I’m being a brat, I do. But this is how I feel:

• God, I went to law school for You. I hate it. The only part of it that I’m passionate about is International law, which opportunity to practice has been ripped out from underneath me and I’m thousands of miles away from home wondering how I’m going to pay my rent.
• God, last summer you asked me to do something hard. I did it. The result was such a terrible misunderstanding that I’ve spent every day of the last year wondering why the h*** you sent me into the Lion’s Den like that. I had no idea what I was getting in to.
• God, I’ve followed You all over the world and done what You’ve asked, even when it seems crazy. And the result is a really impressive passport, interesting stories, and ZERO narrative. I’m wondering who You even are. And I hate that I’m even saying that because on the other hand, You’re everything to me. I’m so sorry.
• God, my questions right now are about so much more than a job in a foreign country. I’m 32 years old and I’m tired. I’m feeling so jerked around that I don’t know if I want to get out of bed in the morning. Except I know if I don’t I’ll get a headache from not having coffee…How lame is that?
• God, You say to pray for wisdom, and not doubt. But if I doubt, I can’t help it. I don’t even know what to do with that. I DON’T WANT TO DOUBT BUT HERE I AM AND I DO. I hate this, and I suck. Yes, I’m fully aware of that.
• God, I’m sick of people telling me that I’m “amazing” that I have so much faith and blah, blah, blah…or that I need to stop thinking and asking questions of You and just live. I swear that if I hear that one more time I’m going to freak out. If you created me to ask questions THEN I’M GOING TO. I know You can handle this and I know that at some point I’m going to probably be mortified that I was ever at this point and didn’t trust You. But here I am, in exactly that place. And this is what I’m banking on: that You can’t do your best work until I’m honest, vulnerable, and, well, on my face. Literally.
• God, that said, here it is: I NEED SOMETHING, SOME KIND OF CLARITY. I honestly can say that I’m not just saying this because I want it, I’m saying it because I need it. I need some kind of indication of:
• Why I’m even in Italy.
• Why I’m in law school—when I hate it.
• What You’re doing with my life.
• And God, that You haven’t forgotten about me.

This might be too honest for some readers, and so I'm glad that there are very, very few of you. ;)  I’m taking measures to get my name off this blog. Anyway, I’ll make it. I always do. But this is where I’m at right now. I’m an unemployed hot mess in Rome, Italy wondering if I’ve been forgotten and WTF is going on.

Back to the crutch thing, I just have to say that faith is anything BUT that. Again, it’s God telling me to walk, and somehow—no matter how many temper tantrums later—I always do. It's just: hard.

It’s a good thing God’s an Artist. Because I’m a mess, and I’m not exactly low maintenance for Him either.