I feel like I just found out about Santa Claus...again

A couple of weeks ago my husband came home at lunch and asked me to find the live NPR broadcast that he had been listening to in the car on his way home. We spent lunch sipping our soup and listening to Frank Schaeffer talk about this book Crazy for God. Now first let me say that the fact that I now listen to NPR with my husband on a semi-regular basis both in the car and now in our apartment does in fact make me feel a little like joining the AARP. But since they don't let thirty year-olds into the AARP, I guess I'll just settle for the feeling that I'm turning into my Mom.

The interview was super interesting, so interesting in fact that I wen to the library the next day and checked out the book. I read about half of it that day and finished the rest a few days later on a lazy Saturday morning. And while I found it utterly fascinating as someone headed to another country to do cross-cultural work who also hopes to have kids and wants to do all she can to not mess them up too badly, I also felt a deep sadness lingering in my heart for several days after I finished the book. It was a feeling I couldn't shake. And then I remembered, I'd felt this way before. I had this same feeling when I found out Santa Claus wasn't real. I felt sad. I felt like something mysterious and beautiful was now absent from the world and that it wouldn't come back.

Crazy for God is Frank's story of growing up in his famous (famous in the evangelical Christian sub-culture sense of the word) house of ministry in the Swiss Alps called L'Abri. His role in their ministry and mostly his role in their political activism. It's a very gritty book. It's a sad book.

I personally have not been directly impacted by anything Francis or Edith Schaeffer have done in ministry or written. But I know people who have made direct impacts on my life who have been profoundly impacted by the Schaffers. Like HH, who I love and admire, who loves and admires Edith Schaeffer's writings. And Dr. H who lived at L'Abri and talks about it from time to time in class. Even with such a indirect impact I was brokenhearted to read about bruises on Edith Schaeffer's arms after fights with her husband. And that the pressure of growing up as a Schaeffer was so great that one of their daughters regularly fought depression as an adult as a result. Brokenhearted, but not surprised...after all, aren't they just people?

There were a few other disturbing things about this book. Disturbing but also instructional for someone desiring to serve in ministry. I was disturbed that Frank described his Dad as "peerless" without anyone to confide in or relate to. I was disturbed by Edith's description of her husband as "poor Frank" to her children and the way whatever came after this phrase was used to build herself and indirectly tear down her husband. I was disturbed that Frank left his Bible at home when out on family vacation. (Disturbed, but empathetic, because after all sometimes if you work for God, don't you just want to get away from him on your days off?) All of these small things were strongly disturbing because although many would say that these things couldn't be true of Frank and Edith Schaeffer, to me it is insignificant. It was a stark reminder that a ministry can exist that is making a wonderful impact but still be full of unchecked sin.

My impression is that the Schaeffer's were very real people that struggled with life, at times successfully and other times completely unsuccessfully. What is most tragic from my perspective is that they had set themselves apart to such a degree that the lack of a community of peers to speak into their lives left it's mark. I never want to be in a place where only my child notices I leave my Bible at home on vacation. I want community and friends to point out my lack of desire for God and to help me press on regardless of my feelings.

I read the book because I thought it sounded interesting. And it was. However, I wish that parts of it were fictional. I wish Santa Claus did exist. Well, not really but I wish the magic of Santa Claus existed. And that the magic of the thought of L'Abri was not lost.

I guess the mystery and magic and the reality that life is beautiful does exist. It exists when the God who is utterly Holy, mysterious, magical and beautiful steps into our mundane, dirty world and brings beautiful transformation to our lives. Where we suddenly don't desire sin any longer, but instead desire holiness.

This was a courageous book to write. It's a very real book. And while reading and processing this book hasn't been a little gritty, I'm very glad I did. It's a book that reminds me that if A and I don't have a community of peers who love us and call us out on our sin then we will fail miserably. It's a book that I don't feel sufficient to comment on in one blog posting...so maybe I'll write more later. Or maybe I'll just leave this post as it is and with the comment that I really hope for mystery and beauty and hope.

As a child I thought it could come in Santa Claus. As a new believer I know now that I looked for it in shiny, plastic boxes created by following different icons of my new found faith. But now I'm starting to believe it comes only in the midst of life as it actually is, full of people with great strengths and weaknesses who allow hope to reign supreme in their lives as they turn to Him for their own transformation.

Thank you Mitford!

A few years ago I read a book by Lauren Winner called Girl Meets God. Now you need to know that I heart Lauren Winner. She's witty, she's authentic and she has a perspective on faith that is very refreshing. She also loves to read. In fact she even gave up reading for Lent once, isn't that weird. So when I read in Girl Meets God that Lauren decided to become a believer after reading the "cheesy" Mitford books, I added them to my "be read before dying" list of books. If you know anything about the Mitford books then you know why I put chessy in quotes. These books tell the story of an Episcopal priest in a little bitty town in the middle of either North or South Carolina (sorry Carolinas, I always get you confused). I was convinced they would be boring. But another friend read them and found them to be the only books she had laughed out loud while reading. So I decided to read the first book. I just finished the last book yesterday and all I can say is, thank you Jan Karon for Mitford!

Thank you for creating a town full of unusual quirks and characters who feel like friends I've had for years. Thank you for introducing me to the culinary delights of orange marmalade cakes, Percy's friend gizzards (which by the way do not look as great in their raw form at the Asian market last week) and all the other delights that Avis has on hand down at the local. Thank you for Dooley, for Cynthia, for Miss Sadie, for Louella, for Uncle Billy and even Miss Rose, and for everyone else who makes Mitford, Mitford.

Thank you for Father Tim whose faith creates in me a longing to live life differently. Thank you for a character who expresses both in actions as well as words the gospel. Thank you for bringing to life in fiction a person whose life expresses the quote "Preach the gospel at all times, when necessary use words." For reminding me that this quote which I like to dismiss as too passive can come alive when someone expresses their faith in both their actions and their words.

Thank you that Tim and Cynthia prayed "the prayer that never fails" for almost four books until you finally revealed what that prayer was. Thank you for not making "the "prayer that never fails" something mystical or cheesy or heretical or worse something that would twist and manipulate God into answering, but instead reminding me your reader that in the most anxious situations when everything is riding on the outcome of a few events that the prayer that never fails is "Thy will be done."

Thank you for making Mitford simple and profoundly beautiful. Thank you for reminding me of the dignity of daily life and the profound significance in simple things like making dinner, loving a child and being kind to people who are aggravating. Thank you for bringing Kenny Barlowe home and leaving it at that. Thank you for the hope for beauty in daily life that your books have sparked in my heart. Thank you for Mitford. I will visit it often!

So I'm starting a blog...

And as I start my blog I want to give myself permission for it to be utterly un-profound and slightly mediocre. I'm not expecting anyone to read my blog, except maybe my husband. And I don't expect, desire or want to ever become someone who has thousands of people comment daily on her blog. I'm blogging for me.

My blog will probably reveal several things, including my poor spelling, penitence for grammatical errors and habit of using large vocabulary words incorrectly because I'm not aware of their precise meaning. My blog probably won't be funny and I will not announce my bid for the 2012 presidential election on my blog.

More then likely I will spend the majority of my time blogging about what other people have written. Because you see, I love to read. I could read five or seven books a week and not feel like a nerd...although I would feel and probably would be entirely unproductive, so I will not read that many.

A year ago I finished seminary and I've discovered I read just as much now as I did then...however, there is one large difference. I don't have an outlet to express my opinions, emotions and general ponderings over what I just read. Although I hated all those papers a year ago, now I miss them. Write a 25 page paper, write a book report, go to class and talk and then run home and write out what you talked about, write a journal...just write something. Ahh...the message of seminary is clear. We all need to write so that we can process, digest, engage and ultimately become more well rounded people.

So here it is, my attempt to add processing, digesting, engaging and the development of a rounder self into my life. My Blog.