Some Playthings

A trembling brown bird

standing in the high grass turns
out to be a blown

oakleaf after all.
Was the leaf playing bird, or
was it “just” the wind

playing with the leaf?
Was my very noticing
itself at play with

an irregular
frail patch of brown in the cold
April afternoon?

These questions that hang
motionless in the now-stilled
air: what of their

frailty, in the light
of even the most fragile
of problematic

substances like all
these momentary playthings
of recognition?

Questions that are asked
of questions: no less weighty
and lingeringly

dark than the riddles
posed by any apparent
bird or leaf or breath

of wind, instruments
probing what we feel we know
for some kind of truth.


[poem by John Hollander, from his book A Draft of Light]

Wool Slacks and The Temptation to Power

It is ironic, as Henri Nouwen articulates, that even while claiming to follow the poor and powerless Jesus, the Christian leaders of history "gave in to the temptation of power."

. . . . . .

Monday I went to rent a car. It was a long trip getting there, but I wore high heels and wool dress slacks and a knit top for the entire day just to impress upon the rental car personnel that I was someone serious and business-like and they should not disrespect me or try any chicanery. Watch out!-- I'm wearing slacks! I called ahead asking for directions and rates and the woman on the other end gave them to me, as well as a rundown of the needed qualifications required to do business with them. "You needa be at least 21, with a driver license, and proofa insurance." Check, check, and check. 

When I walked in the door, slacks and all, I gave the attendant a bright assertive smile and said, "Hi, I'm here to rent a car. I just talked with you on the phone." Smile. Assertive posture. SLACKS, for goodness' sake. She says, "Um, honey, are you 21?" I wore those high heels for nothing.

. . . . . . 

I think that my petite stature and young face and perhaps even my femaleness have given me a sensitivity to patronization. I don’t experience it often, but when someone acts condescendingly to me, my pride flares hot and bright. In those moments I feel the need to instruct people that I am not a high school student, I am not his secretary, I am not a summer intern, I am not a dorm student. What I am trying to say is, “I am better than that. I deserve more respect than that.” But why? Does a dorm chaplain deserve more respect than a dorm student? Does a ministerial officer deserve more respect than an administrative assistant? Does a graduate student deserve more respect than a high school student? Reflection tells me that this demand for respect comes out of a place of personal insecurity. 

This post may also be boring but I realize now that that doesn't discourage people from reading it.

Things are better now.

I could explain more about how I got that big paper done, how God worked some miracles to get me through my finals, how He moved beside me to give me peace in the questions, how I'm on day 2 of my Chicago field school and things are looking up, how the magnolias gave way to apple blossoms, but I won't. I'll just say that I'm out of that season of discouragement and into a season of hopeful expectation. And, importantly, I'll say thank you to you, my real-life and cyberspace and long-distance and down-the-road friends, for your encouragement and prayers. It really helped.

I feel so much better. So much. 

The future is right here.

do not read this post. it is boring.

Okay. I warned you. Really, you won't like it. Go read something else.

I am tired; so tired that after my (admittedly intense) workout this morning I felt physically sick. I need sleep. // I'm freaking out a little bit about my last two projects due this semester. I got overly ambitious in this research project due tomorrow, now I'm doing last-minute restructuring to the entire endeavor in order to put out a mediocre paper when what I really want to produce is an awesome paper that contributes to real knowledge. // I've got a series in Chicago coming up REAL fast and I feel so underprepared, all the while wishing, hoping, (but not really praying) that it will be beneficial to the world and an instrument of the Spirit. // All of this academic studying into theological problems in the Adventist church is a great weight upon my mind. The thing is that in academia

everything

 is controverted.

Everything.

 And when you study theology, that means that everything about your faith is under fire. On every issue I look at, I end up staring into the face of doubt and it's a conscious choice to

believe

 and to (again and again) submit myself to God's Word, knowing that I can't wait to believe until every question is settled.... waiting for additional light. I face questions not only from inside, and not only from my coursework, but I, for better or worse, am also the go-to person for other people's doubts. As I said, this is a great weight upon my mind. // The magnolias are beautiful. Very, very beautiful.