Force of Law (School)

I think I may have gotten to the bottom of why I hate law school. I'm not going to say for sure, though, because it seems like every time I think I've gotten to the "bottom of something" things somehow get deeper. 

Of all things, though, I don't know why I'm ready to write about this. I guess maybe I need to explain to myself why I hate what I'm doing and try to turn it into something positive (no pun intended). 

I took a class on the philosophy of law this year (otherwise known as "Jurisprudence"). During this course I ran across, yet again, the name Jacques Derrida. The guy keeps appearing in my life. I wish his stuff weren't so interesting, I want to just forget about him. Curiosity won again and I found myself on a rabbit trail trying to understand the guy, again, and ended up finding the following gem(s) in an article about his work on the law: 


Surprisingly, in "Force of Law;' Derrida comes very close to setting up a full-scale theory of justice and an accompanying account of law....Derrida's ultimate goal is laudable: to set forth a concept of justice that demands a tireless, impossible, and incalculable vigilance to ensure that justice is done to the other....

Several important themes emerge in Derrida's "Force of Law," but the following points are essential: (i) deconstruction is not politically nihilistic-to the contrary, it recognizes an unceasing call to do justice to the other at all costs; (ii) there is a distinction between law and justice, such that justice is not deconstructable, yet law can be deconstructed; (iii) deconstruction reminds us that law can never reach a stage of complete justice, since justice is transcendent and never wholly imminent...

[The author goes on to name a couple of other points]

Justice is deemed an "experience that we are not able to experience" and involves an experience of aporia. Although these comments seem cryptic, Derrida's main point is that justice, properly understood, should not be confused with positive law....[Furthermore, t]he call to justice reveals a responsibility without limit, a sort of bottomless duty to the other. [And, i]n contrast to justice, "law" is a system of determinate rules....

Derrida's understanding of law follows Pascal (who in turn was following Montaigne) in the notion that the legal system is not founded on reason or justice, but upon an act of interpretive violence. Montaigne recognized that law is "nomos" (convention), and hence it derives from custom and cannot be justified on deep moral principles. Of any particular law, it can be asked, "What is the authority for this law?: and then again "What is the authority for this authority?" By tracing the chain of authority backwards, we must eventually acknowledge that the law is not "based" on anything beyond arbitrary custom backed by state violence. Because there is no rational point of origin for the law, it is self-grounding. 

[Here Derrida and I split for a moment:]

...people begin to believe that the law is grounded in a higher order (God, reason, natural law), instead of realizing that the law is largely a fictional creation which self-perpetuates (in the sense that laws get their authority from other laws, in a circular system of self-referencing support). 

[And here I rejoin him:]

So there is a tendency to collapse justice into positive law, which results in a sort of naive legal positivism: the view that there is no justice over and apart from the rights and remedies available on the existing legal system. In order to combat this position, Derrida adamantly insists that justice cannot be collapsed into law. So we can never say, in good conscience, that "the law is [fully] just [emphasis mine]...The mystical foundation lies beyond the parameters of the legal system. Justice is located in this 'beyond,' since justice cannot become fully present in the existing legal system....

In "Force of Law"...Derrida seems to be laying the groundwork for an approach to jurisprudence which insists upon an almost dialectical struggle between law and justice....

But, and here is the main point, the law can be changed so that its foundations more clearly reflect the demands of justice. Justice must be vigilant toward law, it must interrogate and haunt the law. 

All of the above from: Litowitz, Douglas, Derrida on Law and Justice, 8 Can. J. L. & Jurisprudence 325 (1995).

Derrida saw law and justice as two different things, and viewed the construction of law as having a distinct duty to be ever on a trajectory toward the better reflection of justice. Though it may never be fully attained, the duty that law owes justice also demands perpetual perseverance.

I guess I resonate with this because I realize that I have far more of a passion for justice than I do the law. The law is often so ineffective, even if it's necessary. Justice is a mirage on paper and in the courts, and I hate that. 

But here's the thing, Paul totally talks about this--albeit indirectly. He talks about how: "now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known." (I Cor. 13:12). I truly believe that the "justice" we see and even that which we aspire to is only a dim reflection of true justice, we're trying to mirror something that we can't fully imitate without another salient ingredient. And even then, it's not justice at its full potential.

That said, it's not lost on my that this reference to a dim mirror is embedded in the famous "love chapter." I think that (I'm risking sounding like a West Coast hippy here) the only thing that can keep the law moving forward toward that undeconstructible notion of justice is, actually, love. 

Because it's only love that sees each situation individually. The law necessarily can't. You make a law and you exclude--necessarily. But the law is still a necessary structure--and love has to take some form in order to be imparted and, God-willing, well-expressed--because it's like a language.

Which is another reason why I think Derrida may have been more of an authority on the issue than many give him credit for. Most of the man's work was on the linguistic bent--his foray into jurisprudence was slightly out of the norm for him, but I actually think that the relationship that law has to justice is highly analogous to the relationship between meaning (in the broader sense) and language.

Anyway, this cavernous gap between law and justice, I think, is one of the deeper reasons that I find law school highly unfulfilling. It's hard to read case after case in which the outcome is perfectly--sometimes shockingly--legal and so much of the time a world away from "just." It's hard to not get disillusioned and frankly, it just gets harder to care.

I don't know what I want to do with this degree when I'm done. I don't have any idea what God's doing with my life, and that's become clearer than anything in the last month. But I do know that it's not the law that I'm passionate about, at all. I've always had a passion for justice, truth, understanding...tout ça...so where this is going?

WHO KNOWS?

Socratic Parable

I had some difficult questions posed to me this weekend. Some Divine, some from people, and I’ve continued to think about how Socratic God can be sometimes.

I ask Him a question, and He comes back at me with others that actually point to the heart of the issue. It’s unnerving, and healing. It’s unnerving because it undoes me. It breaks me down and it gets to the very heart of the issue that almost never lingers on the surface but hides and lurks below other questions and ends up being uglier than anything I was prepared to face in the first place. But in this unnerving, undoing somehow it heals.

It looks so cliché when I write that.

Whatever.

I keep finding myself saying, internally (and sometimes externally) “I didn’t sign up for this.” But the fact is, I did. I DID sign up for this.

I keep thinking about a chapter in Tim Keller’s book King’s Cross, wherein he unpacks the story of Jesus healing the bleeding woman—while he’s on his way to another man’s home to heal a little girl.

I get choked up sometimes when I think about it, because Keller’s interpretation goes deep for me. Keller points out that for both persons seeking healing, Jesus ends up asking far more from them than they bargained for, but the truth of each story is that they end up also receiving far more than they asked for.

Here’s how it goes. Mark 5:21-43.

When Jesus had again crossed over by boat to the other side of the lake, a large crowd gathered around him while he was by the lake. Then one of the synagogue leaders, named Jairus, came, and when he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet. He pleaded earnestly with him, “My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.” So Jesus went with him. A large crowd followed and pressed around him. 

And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” 

Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering. At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” 

“You see the people crowding against you,” his disciples answered, “and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’ ” But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” 
While Jesus was still speaking, some people came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue leader. 

“Your daughter is dead,” they said. “Why bother the teacher anymore?” Overhearing what they said, Jesus told him, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” 

He did not let anyone follow him except Peter, James and John the brother of James. When they came to the home of the synagogue leader, Jesus saw a commotion, with people crying and wailing loudly. He went in and said to them, “Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead but asleep.” But they laughed at him. 

After he put them all out, he took the child’s father and mother and the disciples who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum!” (which means “Little girl, I say to you, get up!”). Immediately the girl stood up and began to walk around (she was twelve years old). 

At this they were completely astonished. He gave strict orders not to let anyone know about this, and told them to give her something to eat.

Keller makes a few points (probably more than I can remember, but here goes).

The man...

This man was high up in the Synagogue. Already, coming to Jesus was going to cost him some reputation, surely. But, his daughter was acutely and immediately sick. His love for his daughter won. The situation was urgent, and he persuaded Jesus, in faith, to come. But then, Jesus seems to get…distracted?!

The woman...

The woman had a chronic, seemingly non-diagnosable disease. Jesus stopped himself en route to treat an emergency situation to enquire as to who had touched him. This is the first shocking point. It seems like he has his priorities mixed up.

The woman, it seems, just wanted, in faith, to tap into Jesus’ power for a moment and then escape--unnoticed. He then calls her out, brings her forward, and asks her to tell her story.

As a woman, this story makes me cringe. I can’t imagine having to tell this story in public, even today. I can’t imagine explaining myself in front of a crowd full of people and describing over a decade of bloody discharge from my body and my despair at ever having a normal life.

I can’t imagine what that would be like even now, much less back then. Her body, by law, effectively made her an outcast, and anyone who touched her. I can imagine that the crowd pressed around her and Jesus in this moment promptly recoiling in disgust and self-preservation. Probably a reaction that she had become accustomed to, at least to some degree, but probably not from a whole crowd.

And then Jesus speaks life to her. He calls her a daughter and speaks life and freedom over the rest of her existence: “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

I think her suffering didn’t just mean the physical part. I can’t imagine what such a 12 year old ordeal would do to a woman’s psyche and then to deal with the consequences of Jewish law on top of that!

But then, the man again…

So then, there’s dad, looking on to this situation, wondering if Jesus has lost his ever loving MIND, when he daughter is at home urgently ill and DYING. And then the servants come and announce that it’s already happened. She’s gone.

“What’s the use?” They say. She’s gone. But then Jesus looks at this man. And the way I imagine it is a rather piercing gaze. One that somehow reaches to the furthest recesses of the Jarius’ conscient soul and says 5 words: “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” Jarius, I think it’s safe to assume, DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS. The audacity of Jesus’ brevity, as well as him stopping in the middle of the street to hear this woman’s 12-year-long story—I can imagine—did everything but make Jarius SNAP in two. “Who is this man?!” I can imagine him thinking/feeling. “I came to him in faith but this is more than faith this is something else—this is…crazy!”

Then the end of the story is even more amazing than what Jarius had signed up for. Jesus didn’t just heal a sickness, he brought the little girl back to life in a moment that undoubtedly solidified forever in Jarius’ mind the Deity of Jesus.

It was way more than he thought he signed up for, indeed.

I came to Italy with questions: “who am I supposed to become, where are You going with my life, am I supposed to be in Italy long-term…?” And He has responded in kind: “I AM. I exist, ponder that. I created you to be satisfied in Me, DO YOU TRUST THAT?”

“Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

Easier said than done.

Law school in the United States is done in the Socratic method. It’s not a series of lectures that teach us about the law, rather, it’s a series of courses designed to help us go find out what it is and apply it to our situations. It’s a serious of:

“This is what happened in the ___ case, according to the logic of the court, what would the outcome be if ___ circumstance were different?”

“What philosophic approach does the court take, and do you agree with it?”

“What if….”

Maybe it’s because I’ve been immersed in this for 2 years now, but I’m starting to see how this consistently happens in my relationship with God:

“God, should I do ____?”

“Well, what are your motives for wanting to do ____?”

“God, why did ____ happen?”

“Well, do you believe I am good?”

“But why does it hurt?”

“Where does it hurt?”

“You know where it hurts.”

“You tell me where it hurts, name it, and maybe we can go from there.”

….tears….

He keeps asking questions until I end up at conclusions that I never would have come to on my own. And you know what? It goes deeper every time He does that. It’s flat out a better education. And a better education comes with far greater reward, and satisfaction. I think Jarius would probably agree. And so would the woman who was given back her health and dignity in the middle of the street after crawling to touch Jesus’ dirty hem.

His ways are beyond me. Good thing they're better than mine too, because at this point I may have already packed my suitcases and headed back to the States by now. Something tells me to wait. I have to admit, it's not fear for me right now it's frustration. When I read this story and put my own circumstances in the narrative I can envision Jesus looking over a crowd of tourists in Rome, straight at me and saying: "I haven't forgotten, don't get frustrated, just believe."

Right now, I'm relating to Jarius in that few minutes walk between when Jesus said that and when they got to the little girl's bedroom. I can just imagine the internal war, the grief in that man's soul and I resonate. There are almost no words that satisfactorily express the disappointment and reverberating WHY. But I love that Keller's admonishment comes back to me: there will be an even more reverberating BECAUSE. The question then remains of how to handle the interim?

Not sure I know. One day at a time. And I'm headed to Naples on Friday--all of this solitude is wonderful, but I want to see some people now. ;)

(By the way, I would just like to take a moment and say, yes, I do realize that God came before Socrates.)

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. 

"Lake Life, Remember?"

My school does this thing where every year we have "mentors." This year, we had both a field mentor, and a faculty mentor. The faculty mentor met with us periodically throughout the year to check in with us and give us guidance in the "field."

Mine was amazing this year. I know I've spilled plenty of ink about this already, but law school has be one of the singularly most difficult things I've ever done. I'm no where near the top of my class and as far as wavelength goes...I'm way off, it seems. I just generally feel like a fish out of water in every way--except in my international law classes. Interesting, and probably not surprising, I know.

This week was a typical low point. I've been on a mental, intellectual, spiritual, emotion and PHYSICAL roller coaster since January. So, pretty much a holistic "amusement park ride," though not much of it has been amusing. Wednesday night I got some more "low" news and found myself, yet again, on my face, this time specifically asking for encouragement. Thursday morning, I got an email from Rome suggesting--randomly--the possibility of a 6 rather than 3 month internship. WOW. Did not see that one coming. (Sidenote: still working on the details of this, I need it to pay and I need a visa to make this work, so we'll see what they say to that....)

And then Friday afternoon this incredible conversation happened. Funny how God looked like an incredibly in-tune, relational, and kind professional man sitting in front of me on Friday. This lawyer spoke right to the issues...like, all of them. It went something like this:

"So, I read your essay. And it was good, it was...introspective."

"And late."

"Well, I wasn't going to go that direction, actually. I wanted to say that I see that you struggle with the gap in maturity between you and your colleagues, but you handle it well. I think that you engaged in the class the way it was supposed to be engaged with."

"Well, wow. Thank you. Because actually, I was going to apologize for sometimes taking things deeper than maybe they were meant to be over the course of the year."

"No, you didn't."

"Hm. Interesting."

"Actually, I wanted to say that I can see that you struggle with the maturity gap between you and your classmates right now. It's definitely there, but you did a good job of being you, and going as deep as you needed to go, but letting others be where they are at, too."

"Wow, that's...really perceptive of you. And...thank you. I don't really know what to say."

"And I hear you when you are honest and say it was a tough year, but I just wanted to tell you that, when I was in seminary, I hated it. And I had a mentor tell me that that was a good sign. He pointed out to me that never again would my life look like how it did in seminary, studying, being forced to do all kinds of "requirements," all that goes away. And he said that if I didn't like that way of living, that's good, because it's not realistic. It's not life."

"This is true."

"I telling you this because law school is the same way. I think the fact that you hate this is the very thing that will make you a good lawyer."

"Wow. Again, thank you."

"And as far as professional development goes, I'd just say to you: don't lose your edge. All of the 'edges' that I've picked up about you are good ones--and they're exactly what sets you apart. So, I'd just encourage you not to lose them. I'd categorize you as a pretty passionate person, and I've worked with a lot of people, a lot of women, and both of those all over the world. You're on the passionate side, and just don't lose sight of that in the culture around you."

I didn't really know what to say to this man, except thank you for the umpteenth time. I was humbled, and knew that God had specifically shown up in this man's perspective on Friday. Words that will echo in my mind for a while, I think, and basically this message: "you're on track--keep going."

I needed to hear that. Thank you, dear faculty mentor, for channelling your gift of perception my direction for a moment. It's a blessed moment to be the beneficiary of someone else's gifting for an instant. I lived that Friday afternoon.

And again, I'm waiting on Italy. With much more peace than I have been. I'm going, it's now just a question of how long. I keep hearing this still small voice, though of "lake life, remember?" God is good. I just get to sit back and see what that looks like in this situation.

3 weeks. I'm so excited. :)

Redemption...and Aristotle

Today was supposed to be a homework day. It would seem that God had other plans. Turns out I’m fasting and a lot more is going on that I can really wrap my soul around right now. But I’ll write about what I do know….

This morning I was kind of bemoaning the fact that I have been so unprepared for Easter tomorrow. Like, tomorrow is supposed to be a recognition of the most important moment in my faith’s history, I’ve felt that I’ve done nothing about that, or so I thought. Unbeknownst to me, God’s been preparing me for Easter without me realizing. So, caveat: this may all sound like a rambling mess, and I’ve kind of been avoiding this all day—but I feel I’m supposed to write so I am.

A lot has surfaced in the last week. Two weeks ago I found out I was accepted for an internship I’ve been wanting since last summer. It’s in Rome, Italy. It’s an organization that does exactly the type of law—and so far the only type of law—that interests me. I didn’t even know a place like this existed till last summer, when I visited it with a class on my study abroad program. Now I’m going to get my feet wet in the field and work there this summer. On one hand, I am beyond excited.

But here’s the thing: I’ve had some major anxiety over it. Not that I’m scared to go, but that it won’t happen. From my perspective, the days tick by and my questions regarding visa acquisition go by unanswered and I don’t know how I’m going to pay for everything. And all the logistics are stacking up and in the back of my mind I’m sure this opportunity is going to be ripped out from underneath me. Somewhere in the back of my soul I’m bracing for disappointment—no, devestation—and I’m just sure their never going to get back to me and this is never actually going to happen. There. I said it.

On surface level, It sounds stupid. I’m fully aware that my life is not over if I don’t go “summer in Italy” (for the second time in a row). But actually, actually, turns out, this whole thing goes a lot deeper for me. This isn’t about Italy, it’s about a lot more. And I think I wasn’t honest with myself about just how much more until this week.

First, and most superficially, I’ve already gone through all of this bureaucracy stuff with France before. It was not a wonderful experience and I think those memories are contributing to my worry over things. I’m supposed to be there in 2 months and I haven’t gotten moving on anything. I’m waiting for more information that the organization said they’d send me “shortly.”

I’m in a waiting pattern, checking my email obsessively hoping that Rome will send me the information they promised relating to my grant and visa applications for this summer. So far, nothing…it’s been a week and a half. Meh, I know it’s Italy, and they are no where near and impatient as I am to get things settled, but my head and my emotions aren’t really speaking terms right now.

So, that’s part of it, and then there’s this: last summer, in Italy, I was supposed to talk to a friend about something. I’ve never really had anything like it happen to me before. I had the strongest push I’ve ever felt in my life to go talk to this person and tell them something. I was supposed to tell them, basically, that God wanted them to become what they were created to be, to somehow breathe life into this particular person’s story and remind them that they are who they are for a reason and to run with it. This “message” was nothing new, I didn’t make it up—even though I keep replaying the events over and over in my head trying to remember just why I thought this was a good idea (like I said, head and emotions not on speaking terms)—it was straight out of Scripture.

But what happened after this conversation has sincerely affected me. I will not rehash the details of it, but here’s a part of the story that I didn’t see coming: the message was for me too. Since this conversation happened, I have been wanting to understand why I had such an incredible burden for this person, for this thing, and I couldn’t come to terms with any reason except that maybe it was because it was indeed a message with which I powerfully resonated. This rationale is true, but all of this time I’ve thought this message was something I already understood. And maybe I did. But if so, I’ve only understood it logically, not emotionally.

In the last week I’ve been extremely humbled to come face to face with my lack of faith in what God has begun to give me. As I mentioned before, it would seem that Italy this summer is not about Italy, it’s about a lot more.

A LOT more.

I’m 32 years old. I majored in French—who does that? For 17 years now I’ve wondered why that amazing language is such a huge part of my life, as I majored in it based on clear direction from my Father. Since college, I’ve lived in 4 different states, 2 different countries (3 if you count my stints in Italy), worked 20 some jobs in these places and then decided it would be fun to go back to law school at THIRTY (that last phrase should be read with a great measure of sarcasm).

I’ve followed Him all over the globe and now into law school (one of the least favorite things I’ve ever done). I am at a point in my life where I am at an ultimate low of spiritually tired and not understanding what God is doing with my life.

I have now spoken into so many people’s lives and encouraged them to not sell out, to not give up on God’s “best” and to remember that faith is hard…blah, blah, blah. And then last summer I had the specific directive to walk into somebody’s life and tell them that God wanted more for them, speaking a powerful message that I now cannot ignore.

I have so many areas of my life and story that I love. God has been undeniably good and faithful to me. I cannot deny His hand on my life nor His provision. But if I’m honest with myself, right now I feel that if my life were literature, then I feel more like a compilation of poignant short stories than I do a novel, or any coherent narrative. If I were art, I would say I feel more like a collage that makes sense only to the artist and no one else than any scene or sculpture that tells a story.

Here I am, though. I can be what I am, I can tell my short stories and I can explain to you each piece of my collage and what my Author, my Artist did in each piece of me, which blesses me beyond measure—but I could never recount to you an overarching theme because I don’t know. And it’s exhausting.

Now, first let me say, I understand 3 things. First, I am not missing the fact that the “overarching theme” of most gravitas in my life is the Father himself, and I understand the value in a piece of literature or art that moves one to know the author or artist himself to understand the depth and nature of his product. For these things I am immeasurably grateful.

Second, I get that this lack of understanding is not without purpose. I get that faith journey is nothing if not process. But I also have the distinct conviction that it can be debilitating cop-out to stop at “things don’t have to make sense,” or that “God’s about the process and not the arrival” or “don’t worry about the outcome, just live today well” and not have the courage to wonder where your struggles and story fit into the Kingdom on a larger scale. Don’t get me wrong, I believe all of those statements, in context. But I believe these maxims can be used as excuses to not search for deeper meaning in life and even in faith.

That said, if I also believe that God places desires in me that He wants so desperately to fulfill, then I have to believe that this one strong strain of desire that has run through my entire life is actually there not to be disappointed, but rather fulfilled: someday I want to see how all these things He and I have been through together do tell a bigger story and that He was preparing me for an eventual purpose. I guess I want to have some semblance of an Esther moment someday, a small-scale “for such a time as this” moment. Again: there. I said it. I’ve always wanted that.

Third, I also get that if any desire is God-given, it’s fulfillment is going to happen in His time and not mine, and I think that’s the crux of this summer for me.

Next, some background:

·      I was homeschooled and grew up always feeling like a social outlier.

·      All my life I’ve had an insatiable desire to know and understand the world around me, and the more I see the more it grows. I’m therefore fascinated by all things international.

·      These two things combined, I’m often more comfortable overseas than I am in my own culture: at least it’s expected that I be a social outlier, and I’m ALWAYS learning.

·      I speak French and I didn’t like living in France. I’ve beat myself up over this, wondering if I’ve missed God’s calling on me.

·      I’ve had a relationship with Italy since I was 18 years old. I’ve been in love with her ever since—and this fact has never made sense to me.

·      I’ve therefore always preferred Italy over France. (Actually, I only speak French because I wanted to learn Italian and it wasn’t offered, so I took French instead.)

·      I thought I was going to be a teacher. I was for a while, and came back so drained from teaching in France that I didn’t want to see another classroom forever.

·      The only other thing I ever thought I’d want to do is be a lawyer.

·      I came to law school on clear direction and a full scholarship and fully expected this to at least begin to answer some of my deeper questions regarding my calling and direction. Instead, it’s been confusing as far as direction goes and I’ve largely sucked at law school. Also, I kind of hate it—at least most of it. The only part of it that gets me fired up is the international law part. Surprise, surprise.

·      I often don’t feel American. Again, I just said it. I know I’m a product of my culture more than I realize, but I often just feel like I don’t belong in my own country.

·      I’m in law school but I love literature, art, and would probably love to live in a museum. Or library. (Probably the latter.) I’m a freaking poet, not an attorney. What am I doing here?

·      But almost as strong as my love for these things is my sense of injustice and desire to see this world become a better place. A desire, if you will, to see His Kingdom Come and His Will Be Done….I keep coming irrevocably back to that, for really, I believe this is the very heart of Jesus.

·      All of this is how I ended up in…Minnesota. All-American, Midwest Minnesota. Again, fish out of water.

So that’s some background as to how an artist’s soul ended up getting stuck in the cogs of the machine of legal education. I can see how I got here, and like I said, I see God’s hand on every moment of it. However, it’s the trajectory that I don’t understand. And I refuse to believe that God doesn’t want me to understand how my life and what I do has meaning. I do believe that, day to day, He wants me to just trust and not have to see the big picture always or especially exclusively. I do believe that. But I also believe that someday, I’m going to get a glimpse of some larger scale design, and I want it so badly I can taste it.

And I think, as best as I can tell, that’s what my anxiety over Italy is about. If this works out, for the first time in my life all of this will start to make sense. Start is the operative word here, sure, but it is worth so much to this soul right now.

This organization where I’m supposed to intern does amazing work. They help develop legal systems, environmental practices, access to justice programs, and many other things in countries all over the world into which they are invited. This is so me. Finally!

Then, randomly, this organization happens to be in Italy. I would want to work in an organization like this even if it weren’t, so this part just blows my mind.

The official languages of the organization are English and...French?! I did not realize this till last summer, but French is the other main language of international law. Again, mind blown.

So like I said, this all may just be incoherent rambling, but if the reader (if you even exist) is still with me, then this is at last the crux of the issue. One of my deepest desires is to know and understand my life’s purpose, and with that comes a tantamount desire to feel profoundly called to what I do.

So what does this have to do with Easter? In a word, Redemption. Stay with me here.

I think that we as Christians often do this word an injustice on Easter day, because redemption isn’t a moment, it’s a process. Justification, sure, is a moment—a beautiful one. But redemption is a lifetime of astounding, breath-taking (sometimes literally), gut-wrenching, worth-it, toil. And it does begin in a moment: in a word, Easter. Easter is the celebration of the fact that Redemption can happen now because Jesus paved the way for it. This thing He did laid the groundwork for Redemption, and that’s what I celebrate tomorrow.

So, if Redemption isn’t always equal to justification, what exactly is being redeemed? OUR PURPOSE! I believe that life is supposed to actually about getting back to “the Garden,” if you will. In Genesis we read the story, both within the lines and in between them, of how God walked with us, did daily life with us and was involved in everything. There was no compartmentalizing Him out of things, as there was no need nor desire to. At least, that’s what I see in the Creation story. And then that got broken, which brokenness had farther reaching consequences that the beginning of humanity could have ever contemplated. But what this story tells us is that in our very DNA we are designed for that original relationship, which is what Jesus, Easter, once again made possible.

Aristotle believed in the idea of teleology. I tend to think that he was on to something. I think he nailed a principle that we were created with—I just don’t think that it actually happens perfectly and naturally in our broken version of things. But I think that’s what Redemption truly is—it sets back on the road to telos.*  And another beautiful thing about it is that it looks so different for everybody!

And that’s what He’s doing in me. That’s Redemption.

So, as I’m realizing that my struggle this week hasn’t been about Italy itself at all, I’m realizing how this whole situation is bringing to surface my faith in my whole philosophy and idea of who God is and what He wants for me. No wonder I’m not okay. This internship situation has me truly asking myself if I really believe God is who I have told others He is. Ironically, the very message I felt I was supposed to go deliver in Italy last summer has been driven home so deeply into my own heart that God is very likely doing a deeper work in me than in the original recipient.

I should have known. I thought that whole thing wasn’t about me but it turns out it, uh, was. I also realize that if Italy doesn’t happen this summer, my whole philosophy doesn’t have to fall apart. I do believe that someday I will get a glimpse of the story He’s writing in and through me. I also believe I’ll never understand the entirety of the narrative on this side of things. But I do think that it’s okay for me to want to understand more and it’s okay for me to see how this internship this summer begins to answer 32 years worth of questions in some profound and unique ways.

Anyway, all of this brings me to this resolution: I will choose to believe in my spiritual teleology even if its realization doesn’t happen when or how I want it to. And that’s a head choice. So often the platitude is pronounced, “love is a choice not a feeling. While I think that’s often true, in my experience it’s often true of faith as well, and I’m going to live in that right now. Sometimes, frankly, faith is just raw choice and the heart eventually follows.

Years ago I was choosing a name for this blog. The phrase “logical folly” came to me, randomly. I had no idea how those words would illuminate and speak over my spiritual process and life. I’m choosing faith in Redemption this day and celebrating tomorrow that it’s possible. My heart will follow.

It always does. Thank God.

So much for homework today. And another side note too: I’m grateful for fasting. I’m grateful for a way in which my body can physically express what my soul feels: “God, I’m hungry for You, Your Word in my life, and I need to be sustained, fill me.”

Lastly, I have a weird feeling something’s happening in Italy this weekend. Like, God’s moving. I have no idea what that means but, dear God, we need it. Move on.

And thank You for Easter.

*(Full disclosure: to my understanding, Aristotle mostly focused on observing the principle of teleology in the what he called the natural, or material world. Here I am applying the principle beyond that limited context.)