Transience

pondering hell

I used to fight with God about hell. In fact, that was one of the things that kept me from becoming a Christian for a long time. What about all the people who never heard about Jesus? How could people be condemned to eternal torment because of an accident of birth? In the end, my arguments were silenced when I very clearly heard "Well, you can't help them if you're outside too."

Scroll forward 15 years. During this time I've continued to struggle with the concept, coming up with different theories about as often as I change my socks. Perhaps God knows what you would have chosen, had you been given the chance, so your destination is determined that way. Or maybe when you die there's a heavenly kindergarten where you're taught and then given the opportunity to choose God or not. The pat answers about predestination or all of us deserving hell just don't seem right to me. They contradict everything I understand about God's justice and love.

And then there are those verses which seem to indicate that we are judged according to the light we have. And the ones where Jesus says he has other sheep not of this flock. Sure, maybe that's just the gentiles, but do I know for sure?

For a while I decided that hell was just getting what you wanted. If you wanted nothing to do with God in life, well, that's what you got. The complete absence of God and everything good. But then I started wondering "What if hell were being in God's presence after a life of avoiding him? Wouldn't that be horrible, to suddenly have all your darkness illuminated by God's brilliance? To see where you hurt others, where you chose to be selfish, where you willfully chose to go the wrong way?" Perhaps the fire & pain talked about in the Bible is the cleansing fire of God as it burns away all the impurities in us.

Imagine how shocked I was a few weeks ago to discover that my current thoughts line up with the Orthodox teaching on hell. I've found that some of my views on the nature of sin and salvation also coincide with theirs, so I'm doing some more research.

A few days ago I stayed up until 3 am reading If Grace is True: Why God will save every person. I'm pondering the verses and issues brought up, as they don't coincide with what I've always been taught and believed. (The authors are quite content to discard portions of the Bible, saying that they think they contain false descriptions of God and that we should rely more on our own experience of God's love. This bothers me.) I will say, though, that I finished the book with a greater appreciation for God's love for his children. I want to recapture that sense of awe I had when I first heard that God pursues us.

Oh, to remember that God does not merely tolerate us, but passionately loves us and hunts for his lost children.

volatile

My moods these days are as fickle as the weather. Yesterday morning I went for a walk around Lake Como and found myself wishing I could freeze time and keep things like that forever. The blue sky, blue water, budding trees and slight breeze made me remember why I love living here; in those few minutes, all my winter suffering was redeemed. I felt alive and hopeful.

Today, though, it is cloudy. I overslept and am not sure how I managed to drive myself to work, as I still feel drugged. A bit earlier my ipod was playing Rich Mullins' Hard to Get and I found myself wanting to cry because it so easily captured my thoughts these days.

And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow
All I really need to know

I can't see how You're leading me unless You've led me here
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led
And so You've been here all along I guess
It's just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get

I no longer understand God. All my explanations and proofs are empty. If someone asked me why I believe, I honestly don't know what I could tell them. Instead, I cling to the knowledge that at one time I knew, truly knew. God revealed himself to me and I knew. Convincing, eh?

I am angry and frustrated at still being single. I want a husband. I want a baby. I want someone who would sit with me at the hospital or help weed the garden or go to the movies without having to make plans days in advance. I want sex. I want someone to know if I don't come home.

It seems like I've been waiting for the "perfect man" and I just need to accept that he doesn't exist. But which part of the list do I give up on? Is is ok if he doesn't read? Doesn't want kids? Isn't a Christian?

Aye, there's the rub.

The only person showing any interest in me at all isn't a Christian. Great. So he falls into the great "forbidden" category I've lived with for the past 14 years. At this point it's all still in the "getting to know you" email stage, so I'm jumping the gun a bit. But I can't help wonder "what if?" What if my choice is between singleness or a non-Christian husband? What if my choice is a Christian that I "settle" for or a non-Christian who's a better match? What if what if what if. In my younger, more zealous days, I would have said well, just pray for his conversion and talk about God, but be willing to drop the relationship if he doesn't go that way. And I know friends who have done that. But frankly, I don't know how I would do that anymore.

Blah.

Right now, I don't know that I care. My faith and perspective put me in such a precarious place anyway, too liberal and non-traditional for the "good Christian" boys and too religious for the non-Christians. At least this guy isn't looking for Christian Barbie, unlike everyone I've met on eharmony.

#53 - Things Fall Apart

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

It was interesting to read about life in pre-colonial Nigeria. But I found it more interesting because of the memories it brought up of my time living in Italy. Iwas dating a Nigerian man and spent most of my free time with Nigerians. It made me think about what their lives at home might have been like. Despite the fact that I was the only white person around most of the time and didn't share a language with most of the group, I felt very welcomed and safe. The cultural differences just were too much, though. He didn't treat me that well, leaving me to walk alone at night through the dark alleys of Florence if I wasn't willing to stay with him that night. It took a while to realize, but I finally extricated myself from the whole mess.

Some of his roommates were of the traditional tribal religions. I remember the night that they told me, in all seriousness, that one of the men (Ibo? Ebi? I can't remember who.) had ridden through the sky on a bicycle. Based on my experience of the supernatural, I had no trouble accepting that at true.

I look back on this time with a lot of regret. I wish I had broken things off more cleanly. I wish I'd had the self-respect to stand up for myself sooner. I wish I hadn't let myself fall in love with him.

#52 - A Catered Wedding

A Catered Wedding by Isis Crawford

Another loser. One sister eats cookies when she's nervous. The other clicks her ring on her finger. OK. I GET IT. You don't have to remind me of this every 6 pages.

#51 - Bride and Groom

Bride and Groom by Susan Conant

Not as bad as "The Cat Who....", but not as good as "Spider Dance." I suppose if I liked dogs I might have enjoyed this more. But I don't and I didn't.

#50 - Spider Dance

Spider Dance by Carole Nelson Douglas

Now THIS is a mystery. Deep and layered, with good character development and interesting events. Such an enjoyable series.

#49 - The Cat Who Talked Turkey

The Cat Who Talked Turkey by Lilian Jackson Braun

I used to like this series, but the author seems to have lost her creative ability. Now the book is filled with repetition: the cat yowls when someone dies, the cat pushes a book off the shelf and it has something to do with the mystery, the man has a bushy mustache which for some reason attracts all the women in town. Blah blah blah. Stop phoning it in, ok?

#47 - The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio

The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio: How My Mother Raised 10 Kids on 25 Words or Less by Terry Ryan

A quick and easy read, but I enjoyed it. I was struck by how different the world is now, though; I don't think you could earn enough money by entering jingle contests to support a family.

What struck me most about this book was an experience of synchonicity. At the end of the book, the mother makes friends with a woman in an iron lung. "I wonder what an iron lung looks like?" I thought to myself as I finished the book and went to bed. The next morning, the front page of thye Star Tribune website had an article about jingles and a photo of an iron lung. Spooky!

weekend delights

On Saturday my new sofa was delivered! Isn't it pretty? Friends are welcome to come over & help break it in.

Spring is definitely here; I mowed the lawn for the first time this season. Creeping Charlie smells so nice when you cut it.

blah

My throat hurts.
I forgot to take the meds this morning.
I feel very weepy.
It's not as cold as yesterday, but it's still cold.
I'm cranky and feel like I don't like my coworkers, one client, or
several acquaintances. (Note: if you're reading this, you don't fall into any of those categories.)

I want to go home and go to bed and curl up under the electric blanket with a book and a cat or two.

awkward

Sometimes I forget that people outside my little circle of friends can read this thing. I feel strange and vulnerable today. I'm still pondering some deeper thoughts, but don't feel like I can write about them right now.

The office is still cold. I keep swearing because my hands hurt. (I've also been swearing because of some of the stupid people I work with, but that's a topic for another day.)

Several days ago I bumped the Lexapro back up to 20mg, but split it in half so that I'm not getting the megadose right before bed. The dreams have been... vivid... but not disturbing, per se. So I'm going to continue with this for another week or so and see how it goes. In my dream the first night I found myself in Alaska, where I ran into my boyfriend from high school. "I've wondered for so long what you've done and who you've become," I said. We stepped easily back into love and I realized how much I miss that feeling.

A later dream (that night, the next?) had us wandering through the Louvre. The room we were in had art arranged according to visual relationships, rather than by period or artist. So a spindle-legged canopy bed was next to a metal sculpture with tall, thin bars which echoed the bed's spindles. And next to the sculpture was a painting of trees, then a chair with arms that curved like the branches in a painting. And on and on it went, around the room. Figuring out the relationships became a guessing game, as some were fairly obscure. Now I want to see if I can create something similar online.

In other news, I have a new computer. (She is pretty and shiny and I shall name her "Sparkle!") I spent the weekend sleeping and transferring files to Sparkle from the old laptop. And sleeping. Did I mention I'm tired? Because I am. Tired and cold. Mar and I ditched Pilates on Sunday and I spent the afternoon cleaning viruses off her computer and watching "Starsky and Hutch" with her and Anna. Peopled-out after that, I stayed home rather than going to church because I just wanted to sit at home and pet the cats.