Cruciform Hermeneutic

I remember years ago, as (probably) a teenager I heard my pastor preach about how often we as humans tend to each interact with one part of the Trinity stronger than the others. And he went on to say that that a healthy spiritual walk would have a strong relationship with all three, and therefore a strong relationship with God as the whole Trinity.

Over time that sermon revolutionized the way I continued to interact with God. I was able to quickly identify the fact that, indeed, my “go to” in my walk was with God the Father. And then I began to listen to my sisters as they talked about their spiritual lives and their “time with Jesus”, etc. And I began to think.

Obviously, a warped view of God in any way was never His design for us. Arguably, we’ll always have it for as long as we’re living in this Murky Mirror of an existence, but that’s not the point. The point is the trajectory, moving toward a more whole picture of our Maker—and I don’t ever want to leave that trajectory.

So I began to pray. I began to pray I’d understand the Holy Spirit more. And not surprisingly, that process has never stopped. Seriously, I have been blown away at how my life has changed along with my understanding of the “Holy Spirit.” I thank God we started with the Holy Spirit, because now I see how key the Spirit is to the entire experience of God.

Let me stop here and say that I use the word experience because I actually mean relationship. But I often feel that the phrase “relationship with God”--at least within the "church" (I choose not to veer off onto my views on that word)--has become cliché and we’ve stopped really interacting with the actual reality of what those three words mean. So, in our “Christian” culture today, I think the word “experience” avoids said potential cliché and cuts to the heart of the fact that: God is an actual experience, He’s not just something “other” that “can’t be grasped” and therefore not to be interacted with too much. Don’t get me wrong, He’s actually the first two of those things. But it’s the interaction that’s the key, and so the Holy Spirit is the catalyst. That’s all I’m getting at.

For me, the first step was realizing what a disservice to, again, the “experience" of the Holy Spirit is the way the name treats it as a thing rather than a person. The name is a proper noun and then tags on a, forgive me, holy adjective. It doesn’t beg the understanding of a person when those words are uttered. Rather, it almost begs the conjuring of some enigma, and can be discouraging to even the most earnest spiritual pilgrim.

So, I gave the Spirit a name in my own walk. I couldn’t believe what that did for how I interacted with God.

And then we moved forward from there and we’re still figuring things out. I have an eternity’s worth of things to learn about just this aspect of God...but there’s an entire other part of the Trinity that I haven’t even mentioned yet.

Yeah, Jesus. 

I feel like the worst Christian in the world to admit that the person of Jesus in the Trinity is the part of God that I understand and connect with the least. It’s humbling to admit and it’s funny (and sometimes frustrating to me) because I’ve actually been praying for years, just like I did with the Holy Spirit, to understand Jesus better….

But you know what? Of course God wouldn’t answer that prayer the way that I would think He should. He answers it better. Process. 

In this case, that process looks like this: the longer I’m human I have more respect and awe for the deific person of Jesus. Being human is not for the faint of heart—but even they have to do it too. Doing this well is, dare I say, impossible. And He didn’t just do it well, "setting a curve"—actually He did it perfectly so He literally eliminated the possibility of a “curve.” The longer I'm human I appreciate the fact that Jesus understands in a visceral way what it means to live the human experience. There's no "okay, but you never did it Yourself, God." He created it, and then did it....so many thoughts on that, but I digress.

All of this is at the forefront of my mind as I’m reading a book called “Crucifixion of the Warrior God” which dares to tackle the daunting task of explaining how the violent pictures of God in the Old Testament actually bear witness to the deity, perfection, and the ultimate revelation of Jesus Christ to all of humanity.

If anyone is reading this, they may have had to read that last sentence again. Actually, so did I. But it’s syntactically and semantically correct.

So, it all hinges on a hermeneutic approach that has actually (seemingly) been a time-honored tradition in the theological world. Now, I’m no theologian so it’s taken me a long time to even wade through the first 100 pages of this tome (I may not even be that far), and I’m learning all kind of new (and Sweet Jesus: NON-legal!) vocabulary. But this approach is called the Cruciform Hermeneutic. 

The idea is to look at all of scripture through the lens of the cross, because the cross is the key to understanding how all of revelation up to that point was the continual effort of God to keep moving his people, humanity, forward to the point where His true design could be revealed, incarnate, in Jesus the person and He could then push us further forward into His perfect design to experience Him the way we were created, intended to.

It’s like Jesus is the language that the entire story of Humanity was written in, but we had to be fed the alphabet before we even had a chance at decoding the whole language. And yet the whole time God was (is) speaking Jesus but it sounded (still sounds) like babble to Humanity without the key to the language that is Jesus. If you don't have that key, you think that God is absolutely incoherent, insane, and even vindictive. But beautiful Free-will and Agency mandate that we must choose to decode if we really want to participate in all that we were created for. And it all looks so ridiculous--until it doesn't and it all clicks.

WHAT?!

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with god, and the Word was God. (John 1:1)

The Word decodes God, decodes all of Scripture, and decodes our entire purpose of existence. But if we read the story as a narrative without that key to the Language, we get a really odd, sometimes (if not often) terrible, dissonant story of God, the violent Master who finally calmed down and sent Jesus--but that was 2000 years ago...right?

Yeah, that's the way it looks without factoring in Jesus, they way He's meant to be read. In sum, at the risk of sounding as cliché as I was avoiding being earlier: I’m learning that Jesus is the center of it all, and the reason God even makes sense.

I’m sure there will be more to come on this. I’m not going to lie, I think I thought that my deepest revelations in relationship with Jesus the person would grow out of an emotional place first, not with my mind leading the way. But the funny thing is, I’m also learning more about myself in that my mind is the key to so much of me. And praise God He knows that about me (He made it so)—and He’s working with it. I’m learning how good theology is so, so foundational to a healthy relationship of God.

If you can’t see Him well, what are you experiencing anyway?

Bar Prep

It's Week 7 of bar prep and I still feel as if I've done nothing--despite the hours of lectures and MBE questions I've endured.

I think this exam may murder me. (But it would be just negligent homicide because the requisite intent is not there.)

I am popping Advil in an effort to tame my upper back's tightening, I've taken a week off of work because I'M FREAKING OUT...and I have learned some savvy, savvy use of dry shampoo.

My world is extremely small right now and I have "a place" at the local coffee shop--they know my face now.

My hand might cramp up soon from re-writing my outlines in effort to actually absorb information. I dream bar exam questions between snooze buttons and then curse myself for sleeping through the alarm and sleeping in....

And yes, I'm whining.

And I'm also trying to just put something out there in the world so my existence doesn't seem so small.

Tunnel vision is a b***h. Especially when it has to be that way...2.5 more weeks.

Dear God, I need a Vulcan mind meld. Bring me a Vulcan licensed to practice law STAT.

Omg, I'm going crazy.

Thoughts on Easter Saturday

I can't get the word "redemption" off my mind. I know, it's Easter, so no surprise, but I think that word means more than we often use it for. It’s not just an event or moment.

While Good Friday is grief stricken and Sunday is unparalleled joy, it strikes me that true redemption’s work is done today, on the Saturday. That awful moment between the unspeakable tragedy and the inexpressible joy of Sunday. Because on that Saturday in between there’s this terrible question of WHY. Literally in this case: WHAT THE HELL?

And what is faith if it isn’t belief while you’re sitting there with some level of the question “why” remaining unsatisfyingly, painfully unanswered?

Yesterday, I read the story of Mary Magdalene going to the tomb after Jesus was gone. I read about her grief and resonated with it in a way that I wasn’t prepared for—and then there’s the moment when Jesus turns her own question on her and asks her “why are you crying?” And then He calls her by name. Wow, just wow. She’s grieving because of “why”. She’s grieving for the man that saved her, and for not understanding why He’s gone or why it had to happen the terrible way that it did.

I think that full Redemption happens in those tears, or rather in the perseverance through those tears.

James, Jesus’s own brother knew this: “…for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” So, tragedy hits and we rightfully mourn all Good Friday, and then Saturday comes and the “whys” just get louder, deeper, more painful.

But that’s the funny thing. Sometimes I think we tend to treat redemption as a moment, as Sunday if you will, and in a sense it is—but it’s also a process. Redemption needs Good Friday and the awful Saturday in between. Redemption needs pain because it’s a process and sometimes there’s no comfort but Jesus himself in that process.

What’s more is that to seek any other comfort in that process is to truly cheat Redemption of its fullness. To cheat Redemption of the pain that gives it birth is cheating it of its very essence, and it becomes redemption no more. The more I dwell on this, I see this principle reverberate all throughout Creation. We appreciate seasons because they’re seasons, we know what day is because half of the time it isn’t, I could go on: process, cycle, redemption is everywhere.

One of my favorite lines of poetry is in William Blake’s opening lines of The Marriage of Heaven and Hell:

“Without Contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary to Human existence.”

I think he’s on to something there. Maybe this principle is the very “Knowledge of Good and Evil” that we were told to stay away from at the beginning.

But, we didn’t stay away from it. And now we’re living in the Saturday of all Eternity, where Creation is weeping, asking why, sometimes in Faith, and sometimes not. And the day will come when Jesus will come up behind us, call us by name, and ask us why we’re weeping. Even though He knows. And He’ll know because he lived and bore the Why for all of us, and walked with us through the ugliest things that Creation could ever conspire so He could come back and answer that question once and for all: the goodness and grace of God is more clear in the scope of all Eternity for the pain; God let it happen because that’s how Redemption works. Redemption doesn’t erase the ugly, it takes it, makes new rules about it, and creates something new that is more beautiful than it ever could have been had the ugly never existed.

And He thought that the beauty of the Eventual would be worth this awful Earth of a Saturday.

How’s that for a cosmic cost-benefit analysis? 

I Will Wait

Well I came home
Like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
These days of dust
Which we've known
Will blow away with this new sun

But I'll kneel down
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

So break my step
And relent
You forgave and I won't forget
Know what we've seen
And him with less
Now in some way
Shake the excess

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

Now I'll be bold
As well as strong
And use my head alongside my heart
So take my flesh
And fix my eyes
A tethered mind free from the lies

And I'll kneel down
Wait for now
I'll kneel down
Know my ground

Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

--Mumford & Sons

But Do They Reconcile?

I'm not really sure why all of the sudden this blog is receiving my attention again.

It's no secret that my head has been in Alaska and not really here lately. I have no problem making it known how excited I am to go home. Yet, I've also been thinking about how difficult probably some parts of going home will be. Nowhere is perfect. Because people, basically.

And I'm one of them. And I'm particularly struggling with this lately: I am full of international passions and gifts. And yet I call Alaska home. Alaska has a total population of less than 800,000 people, and it is by no mean on the international legal radar. Nor are international pursuits really on Alaska's radar. I mean, Alaskans love to travel. But then they come home. Alaskans love to experience the world, but not change it.

Where do I fit into this? I don't know.

I love Italy, I love learning new languages, I love all things international...but I have never done well overseas by myself. My stints living overseas represent difficult periods in my life where I found myself emotionally unhealthy, generally lonely, and longing to come home. I mean, if I'm honest, law school and Minnesota have been like that too.

So, how do these things reconcile? How do I go live up to my "international potential" for lack of better terms and be healthy and whole? It's not like I neglect my spiritual life when I'm overseas--God knows--so, it's not like that's the crucial piece I'm missing.

Or, how do I stay in Alaska and pursue all my love of other cultures and languages and giving to the world that has So. Much. Need. Everywhere? I don't know.

I'm struggling a bit with this law librarian thing. In a sense, I feel like if I choose that I'm saying goodbye to Alaska forever. I know that's not necessarily true, but it feels that way right now. It feels like if I pursue this career then I'm at the mercy of where I can find a job that fits me, and I am no longer the master of my geography. And I worry if I can be healthy. How many times do I need to rebuild my life in a new place again all by myself?

But conversely, I feel like if I stay in Alaska I'll be denouncing other deep parts of me that I can't authentically live without pursuing. But emotionally, I might be way healthier. I would be in a place where I've invested, loved, am loved back, invested in, known.

So, again, how do these things reconcile? I don't know. Somehow I'm hoping that this question will answer itself this summer. Maybe I'll really like just being a lawyer once I actually do it. Maybe I'll know when I get there that I'm never supposed to leave again.

Or maybe it'll be another painful summer where I realize I need to move on again, but God is good. Or maybe I'm making a crossroads out of something that's not really a turning point. It wouldn't be the first time I did that!

I don't know. It's just stuff I've been thinking about. Time will tell, I'm curious to see how I've changed, how Alaska's changed in the last 3 years. 

Redemption Refuses No One

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners--of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen. 1 Timothy 1:15-17

Bible study this morning posed a question about the Apostle Paul: "Why did Paul consider himself to be the perfect choice?"

Because he was the worst.

Redemption refuses no one. This is because redemption doesn't just forget and wipe away the past. Here's the thing: instead true redemption takes the past and makes it something new, turns it into what it was meant to be and ultimately takes whatever that past is and makes one's ministry, one's life more beautiful that it ever could have been without that ugly past.

In short, true redemption isn't actually redemption if one tries to forget her past. That's selling God short on His work. 

The Sh!t Hit the Fan This Week

It did. On several different fronts. And it's funny because I'm not the only that noticed: a lot of it is a repeat of what I went through last year. But yes, I am just going to leave it that vague.

The truth is, I'm okay. I'm kind of shocked about it, actually, but I'm okay. I was not okay going through this last year. But God is good, and I'm experience what Paul means when he talks about a "peace that passes all understanding will guard your hearts and minds." Circumstances are in a state of abject fury right now (I also just wanted to use the word "abject") but I have a deeply seated peace that I'm not sure I've ever really experienced like this before.

I'm definitely not complaining, I'm marveling. I'm marveling to feel the work that He has indeed done in me. Thank You, Father.

I feel like I'm at a weird crossroads right now, but I have a feeling the decision will make itself--even though I have no idea what that means. I am over the moon to be going back to Alaska this summer. But I do wonder what it's going to feel like...

Right now, it feels like home. It feels like I'm going home to wonderful and difficult all at the same time and I don't know how I'm going to process it. I've changed, I know I have. My thoughts on things have changed, and I've been through a lot these past 3 years.

I wonder if I'll still have a place there, and what that place will look like. I wonder if I'll get there and dread leaving again, or if I'll spend this summer there and feel like I've had my fill of it by the end--like I'm supposed to move on. Right now I can't imagine feeling that way, and I don't want to, but I know life and Jesus have a funny way of changing our hearts and minds.

I do know that this summer holds the bar exam for me. I'm going up there and I'm pretty much staying in a hole until August. I cannot get distracted.

Mmm, but those mountains though. I can't wait.