Sanctification After Death

I've lost the ability to recognize whether or not it's normal for lunch conversation to include eschatology.  The other day I was at Panera with Lindsay, and she sighed heavily.  "What if, after all this, there's still sin?"

"That's the whole point," I said.  "We won't be able to sin."

"Yeah, but.  If we still have freedom of choice, what's to stop this from happening over and over and over again?"

"I DON'T LIKE THAT IDEA," I said, fidgeting in my seat.  I knew there was a reason this couldn't be true, but... "Oh, I know.  In Genesis, there's both the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.  In Revelation, there's only the Tree of Life.  The option is gone--we've had our chance and we failed.  God saved us and the reward is life without temptation anymore."

Lindsay visibly relaxed.

"What gets me," I continued, "Is the idea that some kind of sanctification continues throughout eternity."

Lindsay was no longer relaxed.  "WHAT?" she said.  "I don't even like sanctification in this life.  Why would you think it'll keep happening?"

"Well, C.S. Lewis is always going on about it.  In The Last Battle and A Grief Observed and The Great Divorce...any time he talks about eternity its with this idea of continuously growing in Christlikeness."

"No!" Lindsay insisted.  "I hate that idea!  I just--you mean it never stops!?"

"No no no.  I think I'm explaining this wrong.  I'm with you, sanctification now is exhausting.  But when there's no sin or temptation...I think...I think it's like traveling.  There's so much to see and so many ways to grow, but it's not like the process is painful.  It's fascinating and fun to go somewhere new, and every new thing you experience just makes you hungry to experience more.  That's what it'll be like, I think.  We'll grow more and more like Christ, but it'll be an adventure.  With, you know, no delayed flights or muggings or whatever."

"Hm," Lindsay said.  "I suppose that's alright.  By the way, can we go to Iceland this summer?"

"YES," I answered, and bit into my turkey and avocado BLT.

Unconditional Love

Therapy today meant discussing self-worth, which was MISERABLE; I assume for everyone other than the three or four lucky bastards who had perfect childhoods.

Therapist: Do you think there's a spiritual element here?
Me: Yes. I was raised knowing that God loved me in spite of my sins, and—it was always in spite of. It's only been in the last couple years that I've learned that maybe God just straight up loves me. Maybe he delights in me.
Therapist: What would that be like?
Me: Comfort. Security. Peace...Too good to be true.

Our conversation moved on, but for the rest of the day I was stuck on this exchange.  Later it struck me why it felt so important--the last year or so has essentially been my attempts to prove that God's love is conditional.  For so long I've been defined (by others and by myself) as "the good girl," and it terrifies me to think that this reputation is what has earned God's love.  Does he only care about me when I'm trying not to sin, when I'm being modest, when I'm focusing on him, when I'm serving others?

So I stopped reading my Bible.  I started cussing.  I hit my snooze alarm until it was too late to go to church.  I ignored chapel requirements for DTS.  In my "good girl" way, I went bad.  I think I was railing against God, trying to prove to him that, "See!?  You don't love me now!"  I disobey authority, covet everything, hang onto jealousy, embrace bitterness, wallow in self-pity, and then I held my blackened and shattered heart up to God in defiance.  I wanted him to let me down.  I wanted him to be like everyone else, so that at least the world would make sense.  The rules would be clear--for me to experience love, I need to put on my happy shiny people face and DO STUFF.

But....that hasn't happened.  It's not like I've felt showered in God's love.  But during this year I've found friends who are in the muck with me, doubting and trying and flailing.  I've got this support system that is mysteriously okay with all of my pain because they know that the world is shitty and they're not interested in pretending it's not.  And it's through them and their sarcastic, enduring compassion that I think...okay.  Maybe God loves me.  Maybe I could never read the Bible for the rest of my life, and he would love me.  Maybe I could always act selfishly, and he would love me.  Maybe he looks down on me and fucking laughs and smiles fondly.  Maybe I'm his craftsmanship, and he made me good.  Maybe I'm broken, but he sees what I was, am, and will be, and he's just entirely delighted.

A Counselor's Prayer

 Taken from this website.

God, help me to share my client’s (or friend’s) pain without letting her pain overwhelm me.
Help me to feel her hurt without feeling consumed by it.
Help me to enter her chaos without being sucked into it.
Help me to approach her problems without feeling the need to fix them.
Help me share her grief without trying to rescue her from it.
Help me to bear witness to her past without feeling the weight of its devastation.
Help me to celebrate her growth without taking credit for it.
Help me to hear of abuse without turning cynical, broken relationships without becoming bitter, neglectful parenting without being judgmental.
Help me to hold hope for others even when I’m struggling to hold hope for myself.
Help me to keep my heart open even after it breaks.
And help me to draw closer to your heart every time I’m overwhelmed by the pain in mine.

Everything's Better During the Olympics

I love the Olympics.  Love them like watching every prime time coverage, bringing them up in every conversation, definitely frowning at you if you aren't as into them as I am.  This is all kind of weird, because I'm not interested in any other sporting event.  The Superbowl happened last week and I literally did homework in my room.  Sports have never been integral to my life, but the Olympics?  They are everything.

I mean, part of this is obvious.  The Olympics take place in amazing, beautiful, new places!  Sochi, Russia!  How lovely.  I mean, I'm not handwaving away decades of horrific history, but Russia is a beautiful place with an astoundingly rich history.  I loved seeing the cultural contributions Russia has made represented in the Opening Ceremonies.  And I love seeing the little side pieces NBC does about what it's like living in Sochi.  I even really love the awful reporter's tweets about #sochiproblems because they so perfectly capture the insanity of traveling somewhere new.

Can't deny that the Olympics are made of sports, though.  My fondness here is summed up in a(n imperfect) quote by Alex Day, who said of the previous Olympics, "You're literally getting to see someone come up, live the most exciting moment of their lives, and leave.  And then another person comes up and lives the most exciting moment of their lives.  And you get to watch it all and live it with them!"  Lovely.  So exciting, so devastating, so fulfilling.

And the whole pathos of the Olympics!  Countries from around our broken world putting aside political differences and racial tensions for the fun of the game.  It's absolutely beautiful, and honestly a lot like how I imagine eternity.  There's this genuine competitiveness, but alongside the desire to win for your own country, there's this deep respect for talent that seems to exist in nearly all the athletes.  It's lovely.

Also, who cares about dumb butt Superbowl commercials (just kidding, I thought they were mostly really funny).  What I'm saying is that I really really love Olympic commercials.  They are just consistently heartwarming and truly wonderful.  They capture life, and even though they are selling something, I mostly spend those thirty seconds thinking, "Life is beautiful, across the globe, holy cow, I want to live."  I especially love the one where couples are driving in the car and one starts singing obnoxiously to the radio, and then the scene changes to India and the same thing happens, and then China, etc, and the tag line at the end is something like, "We're not that different," and my heart dies.  I also really love the ones that show an Olympic athlete backwards through their life until it pauses and you see them like, take their first step in skis or something.  UGH so touching.

Anyway.  Olympics!  They're my favorite bi-annual activity!