"To question is not to be unfaithful." -T.S. Eliot

This is most likely my last post from the manor. I have a few more days here but I expect them to fly by. Sometimes I wish I could stay here all term because I would learn so much, but other times I can’t wait to get a rest from the discussions. I want to jot down a few of the things I have learned/noticed/grown to love while I have been here. This is mostly for my sake but maybe you will find it interesting. They are in no particular order.

1. Evangelism may not be about saving people. It may simply be about (1) bringing glory to God, and (2) bringing light where there was darkness. I’m still trying to figure out what all I think about that. But the more I think the more I agree.

2.The story of Noah and the flood, to me, is one of the saddest, most devastating stories in the Bible. It isn’t about the cute animals walking two by two into the ark. It is a story about an all-loving creator destroying his beautiful gift because it was trampled and perverted beyond repair by his own creation. We wrecked the most beautiful gift, an offering of love, and He watched as it filled with water and faded away, all because of our disregard. But he cleansed it and made it new again. I am an artist and I would never have the courage to recreate something that had been so misused and misunderstood. But God doesn’t need our approval. He doesn’t need our praise. I guess the whole idea of the flood makes me ache because I am looking at it as an artist. I wish I wasn’t so human sometimes.

3. We have turned relationship with God into consumerism. We expect back from him exactly what we put into it. And most the time we expect much more.

4. Christianity has become unappealing in the world today because people think they have morally outgrown the Christian God. We are beginning to see God as primitive. He seems egotistical, misogynistic, homophobic. Many feel that He is creating in us a need for himself and then hiding from us. We constantly find ourselves thinking, “I wouldn’t hide myself from a friend in need, so why are you?” We no longer see him as superior. What is the cure for this?

5. Introspection is a disease. It causes us to become locked into self. It crashes our ability to be – to participate outwardly. There are three functions of the human heart that connect us to reality:  thinking, being, and doing. Introspection puts thinking over being and doing. It causes us to only live in the past and future and never the present. (Andrew Fellows lecture in introspection is fantastic. I'll try to swipe a copy before I leave.)

6. The miracles that Jesus and disciples perform in the New Testament have little to do with the actual miracle and everything to do with the character of God. I miss the point when I focus on the miracle’s outcome. I plan to unpack all of this during the remainder of my summer.

7. But...what rocked me yesterday: Jesus knows exactly what its like to feel like you don’t have enough time on earth. When I get crazy about being sick I give myself 10-15 years of health before my liver transplant. And then I usually forget to think about the possibility of life after the transplant. But when I add that time to how old I was when I was diagnosed, I get around the same lifespan that Jesus had on earth.              

He knows what is like to feel like you don’t have enough time. He knows what it is like to be tired and want to retreat to an isolated place. He knows what it is like to be exhausted by missing the point – that it isn’t about healing or miracles. It is about the ultimate miracle of redemption. Alongside the magnitude of the redemption which Jesus brought, what is a weak liver?  

Except with me, I was the one missing the point. The point is the incarnation. Any act of healing is just a minute reflection of the ultimate sacrifice. The ultimate act of love.  

God is so other. I find myself ultimately frustrated my own misunderstanding of his character. Of his magnitude.  

I need to believe that God is enough before I can ask for any type of healing. I have been constantly encouraged by people who love me to have faith like a child and ask for healing. But children don’t doubt that their father is strong enough or loving enough or concerned enough. In their pure, innocent belief they can ask anything they wish of their king. I am starting to see and feel the crushing magnitude of Jesus’ love. Only then will I be able to ask.

rehab

We all went to a pub in Liss last night, It was about a 20 minute walk. We left around dusk so the walk was beautiful, and on the way home around 11pm the sky was clear and stars were perfect. I thought of you, Rae.

I went for a walk with Edith on Friday. She is my tutor so I meet with her once week to go over what I’m learning and get her insight, etc. We walked down Church Lane and I had to tell her about my last year, and being sick, and all the different thoughts that go with it. I told her that I am worn out with the talk of healing because that isn’t the point. Chris and I talked about that on our walk to Liss two days ago too. (Chris is 31. He’s traveling the world. His girlfriend Samantha is supposed to come stay next week as well.) He agreed and asked me what the point was. I couldn’t answer him. And that’s weird to me because I know the answer is relationship. God and me. People and me. But why couldn’t I think of that?

Edith asked all the right questions. I ended up telling her all the layers of the things I have been thinking and she didn’t make me feel ignorant or messed up. She told me to keep asking questions because there was no point of pretending like I didn’t have them. God knows I do. And I am not fooling him by trying to believe the facts I know about his character when I really don’t trust his character.

I have been thinking about that a lot the last two days. Especially as I have talked to Chris more about learning to feel and controlling introspection.

I think rehab must be a lot like this.

I need to admit my disbelief instead of force it away with biblical answers. Biblical truth. Even if I know the truth I may not believe it. L’abri is all about questions, and its good because I didn’t realize until being here how scared I am to ask them. I feel like I’m betraying God by doubting. But I guess it is more of a betrayal to pretend.

Edith said, in friendships, we often ask each other the same questions a number of times to get the full truth, because people don’t explain everything fully the first time. And sometimes you learn something new about a friend that doesn’t correlate with what you previously knew, and it seems like a contradiction. So you have to re-ask a previous question to figure out who they really are and how all the pieces go together. And it would be crazy not to do that with God. If something he has done doesn’t seem good it is okay to re-ask him if he really is good.

I wasn’t as tired after I talked to her. Last night after walking back from Liss, Chris and I sat on the stairs and talked— Kendra joined a little later. And he mentioned how thinking is exhausting. And its true. I feel tired, especially after this year, of trying to force myself into thinking and believing in parts of God’s character that confuse me. But forcing myself doesn’t work and then I’m lost in thought and I’m exhausted. Andrew and Jim (workers at L’abri) told Chris to stop and listen to the birds. I think we all need more of that advice.

“L'abri is somewhere between fantastic and rubbish.” - Jim.

Every day I understand that a little more.

tea-mania

So yesterday as I'm on my knees pulling weeds from between the cobblestones outside the chapel, I realized that I really am in the English countryside. Daang. It is all that Jane Austen said it would be.

Here is yesterday's schedule, to better explain what the days will be like here:
Breakfast at 8am which consists of Wheat-a-somethings and toast. And of course hot tea.
At 9:30 it is morning chores. Kendra (from Canada) and I cleaned all five bathrooms in the manor yesterday and I leanred the mind-blowing fact that newspaper can be used as papertowels to wash down mirrors. Crazy I know. I got excited when it actually worked, and I don't think I will ever use paper towels again. Recycling can be fun, Abby.
At 11am there is tea time which Kendra and I prepared. Tea time is when everyone in the house congregates in the kitchen for thirty minutes to take a break from chores/studying.
Then it is back to chores and lunch at 1:30. Lunch is formal. We are split up into two groups, so it is about 12 people. We have lunch in one of the workers' apartments and there is always a lunch discussion. Anyone at the table can ask a question and then the whole table discusses what they think. Ryan, one of the workers who is my age, from Memphis, asked yesterday - What does it mean to be awed, and what awes you? I wish I could say more about that but I only have the internet for 15 more minutes.
I had a 30 minute break after lunch and Ryan and I played soccer, or football here, with Andrew Fellow's son whose name I still can't remember. The USA won the world cup.
Study time from 3-6pm. Tea time no. 2 in between. I listened to two lectures from the library during my study time. Dinner at 6:30 in Marta's apartment on the top floor of the manor. Cheese and brocolli soup. Then a lecture at 8 by Andrew which was really just a discussion of community and what it really is - since it is such a buzzword right now in churches. Then hangout. Then bed.

It is freezing here. Of course most people here think it is warm and they are wearing sandals. But I am all about the scarves and socks and layers. I seem to have forgotten that they don't have central heating in England. We did light a fire last night in the living room though, and Chris and I hovered around it - he's from Southern California so he is equally cold.

When I walked in the door for the first time Tuesday I met 5 people before I made it to the staircase. And within an hour we were all sitting together laughing and talking like we have always known each other. Which is crazy because it is never like that for me. There is so much tea I think I might go crazy. Tea with every meal and two tea breaks...and they conder why the British have bad teeth. But anyway, I think I was made for this place. Conversations here are...wonderful. I sat across the table from Kat yesterday (we both had a mug of tea in out hands) and she told me about her life and the struggle she has had in the last year. And L'abri is really going to be a shelter for her this summer. I wish I could stay and watch her. After telling me this horrible story about a disease she has been struggling with and how she will be on medication all of her life, she looked at me and said, "But it is good because I wouldn't talk to God otherwise." And that is it - it has only been a day and I'm already in love with the people around me. This is still going to be really hard. Especially if it stays this cold. But this place is rich. That's the only way I can describe it. I know it sounds weird. But it is rich with conversation. Rich with interesting, beautiful people- many of which aren't Christians, which to me is much better. Rich with questions. No question is not worth asking. I was made for this place.

2.5 days...

I leave on Monday night for big adventures. For the first eighteen days I will be in this awesome place studying who knows what. And after that I'll be galavanting all over Italy with Britney... and you never know what all we will get into.

This week has been weird. I have been home getting everything together for the trip. My mom and I have been to every mall in the Atlanta area gathering things, which makes me wish I loved shopping. But I hate it. So it has been slightly overwhelming. 

But, I don't think it is the shopping or packing that has been so weird. It is kind of crazy being here because my home has become a reminder of last summer. And don't get me wrong, last summer had some great memories. I was able to be near my parents when I needed them most. My sister lived in the room next door for a couple weeks and it hadn't been that way for five years. I was able to attend the church I grew up in. I took a theology class. I went to Boston and Nova Scotia. I bought my first camera. But last summer was long and lonely too. When I smelled the shampoo in my bathroom a couple days ago it took me straight back to the week after surgery when mom had to tape plastic wrap over my scar so it wouldn't get wet. It is always crazy to me how smells can bring back the most vivid memories. 

There is so much I could write about all of that. About the people at my church I had never met who stopped me in the hall and told me they had prayed for me everyday since I got sick. About the conversation with my parents the day after I turned twenty-one and how angry I was for the week or two afterwards. About the nurses who I still miss sometimes and the bridge at Emory that I thought I would only ever enter when I was worried about my mom's health. But the point of writing any of this is to say - its changing. I'm leaving. And I know I am supposed to because I am not running from anything. This strikes me because if you asked last summer I'd have said that was why I was going. But I don't have anything to escape. That makes it harder to leave but better. I am not running from my disease. I think turning down wine at every meal in Italy will be enough of a reminder that I'm not like the other kids. :) I am not running from any sort of unhappiness or discontent at school or at home. So bring it on L'abri. I don't know what I'll study since there are so many things I am interested in and so many things I don't know. But whatever it is, it will be what I am supposed to learn.

So yeah, that's it: what is supposed to happen, happens. I was supposed to be home last summer when the only place I wanted to be was far, far away. But He flipped everything upside down instead. Now I year later, I am supposed to be gone when a part of me wants to stay and rest and explore the non-UGA places in Athens with Rae. But I have learned that when things seem hard, and when I ache because I am going to miss my friends, it is a good thing. Because they are a gift. Loving them is a gift. Missing them is too.

I'm ready to go.