Freedom

This 4th of July I've been thinking about freedom-- what it is and how we interpret it as Americans and Christians... and American Christians. I wouldn't really call myself a patriot, but I am grateful for the opportunities I have in America. I'm thankful that I don't have to fear for my life on a daily basis. I realize the blessing it is to be able to worship my God freely. I'm grateful for my education and the fact that I can choose what I want to do with my life. Many people might call these opportunities "freedom," and in a sense, I agree. But at the same time, I fear that we have twisted our freedom into something that isn't very freeing at all.

When I look around, I see a lot of Americans whose lives speak anything but freedom. People are trapped in unhealthy relationships that drain their being. People are tied to possessions that bring no real value or meaning to life. People are addicted to anything and everything. But we have the right to be trapped, because we're "free". It seems to me that a sad irony too often accompanies our freedom.

Frankly, I don't think we can't know true freedom apart from Christ. It is only by God's Spirit that we know what to do with freedom. We snuff out the gift when we hoard it. Our "freedom" becomes strangely tyrannical. We fool ourselves into thinking that freedom is a privilege to be protected instead of recognizing it as a gift to be shared. Is there anything truly free about a freedom that oppresses and tramples anyone that gets in its way?

Instead of "freedom" that crushes other people and ourselves, we've been offered a freedom in Christ that should be shared. We have been saved and freed for something, not just from something. It's a costly gift, but it's a beautiful one. There is freedom where the Spirit of God is, and we're invited to experience it and live it and give it and share it and hope for it.

So, anyway, I'm trying to figure out what it looks like to reject the tyrannical "freedom" of the world and embrace the freedom of God's Kingdom.

Being balanced... and being neurotic

I took my car to the dealership this morning (after the Netherlands vs. Brazil game, of course... Hup Holland Hup!). My check maintenance light was on, and I also needed them to check my tires. I keep having to fill up the back ones. Turns out there were nails in both.

One was pluggable, one wasn't. The tires there were super-expensive, so I decided I'd get the replacements elsewhere. On my way out, the service guy told me that since they plugged the one, I could just have the other replaced with the same brand tire.

What?! Only replace one of my back tires?!

The idea of replacing one and not the other is really disturbing for me. Why? Because I'm neurotic, and I hate things to be unbalanced. If I'm going to replace one back tire, I want to replace the other one. If I get one hand wet, the other's gonna need it too. Seriously, I'm a nut job about these kinds of things. But I also don't want to fork over $100 if I don't have to. So I guess I'll have an unbalanced car and try not to think about it.

So, now, my point...

My rad friend Annie often says, "All things in moderation, including moderation."

I think this applies to balance too... Balance is good, but you have to have balance with balance. I'm gonna work on this.

Anticipated Serendipity

One of my best friends from college visited this past weekend... it was rad. We had a date night that involved an entire baguette and wine from a Nalgene on the beach, and it ended with dessert at P.F. Chang's. They had mini desserts, so we ordered 5 (this is not a joke).

One of them was the miniature version of the Great Wall of Chocolate (insert trademark here). It's called the "Mini Great Wall of Chocolate." Mini Great. Ha! Mr. Chang is a riot!

I'm officially on an oxymoron kick now. And I've decided that I'm hopelessly idealistic (among other things).

Time

"Time is the only reality of life, yet it is a strangely nonexistent reality: it constantly dissolves life in a past which no longer is, and in a future which always leads to death. By itself time is nothing but a line of telegraph poles strung out into the distance and at some point along the way is our death." -Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World

Time is a funny thing.

I have a really hard time with endings, like, an unnaturally hard time. We're talking, I cried on my way to turn in my last final on Friday, because it meant that my first year of grad school was over. Not all of grad school, just year one. Probably not normal.

I love new beginnings though. I know I love them, because I do them fairly often in spite of my profoundly hard time with endings.

Usually, when I'm in the midst of an ending, I feel as though someone is pouring a pool's worth of water over me while I stand with cupped hands, trying to catch it all. How am I supposed to hold all the good in my heart while still moving forward? I don't really know how, and that's why I'm thankful for time. I need its constraints. It doesn't wait on me, and I'm glad it doesn't. I need its push so that I can embrace the next good thing.

nine whole days!

Well, finished my first year of grad school. That's pretty crazy.

I have 9 days until I start summer school-- a year's worth of Greek packed into one summer of love. Yup, one year, one summer. So I plan to relish all the glory that my 9 day break will bring.
How, you ask? Here's how...

Finish Poisonwood Bible finally (I don't think I've picked it up in a good 3 weeks)

Blog (I'm well on my way, huh?)

Watch some World Cup games (I love you, George and Dragon... and beer)

Cook something... anything! (I'm sick of turkey sandwiches and carrots)

Sleep (I took two naps yesterday after turning in my last final. I'm doing well with this one.)

Watch a couple good movies and some crappy television

NOT write a paper (I think I'm most excited about this one)

Things I hate

The song "Love Shack"
I cringe every time I hear this song come on. I really think it might be the most annoying song in existence, partly because of the song itself, partly because of the people who love it.

Texas pride
Get over it, Texas. No one is messing with you, not everything is bigger there, and Billy Bob Thornton starred in The Alamo.

Mustard
I just think it's gross, that's all.

Facebook statuses that could be better described as diary entries
This is a love-hate relationship. They're so entertaining, but they're so painful. I would also like to include here cryptic statuses that are clearly directed to one person. Come on, people... you're fooling no one.

Misuse of your/you're, there/their/they're, and two/to/too
These things are covered in elementary school. It's time to learn.


[Note: I know this is a little cynical-- maybe rude too-- but it's finals week, so I'm allowed.]

associations

"Once every few years, even now, I catch the scent of Africa. It makes me want to keen, sing, clap up thunder, lie down at the foot of a tree and let the worms take whatever of me they can still use. I find it impossible to bear. Ripe fruits, acrid sweat, urine, flowers, dark spices, and other things I've never even seen-- I can't say what goes into the the composition, or why it rises up to confront me as I round some corner hastily, unsuspecting. It has found me here..."
-- Orleanna Price,
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Isn't it funny how we can smell or hear or taste something that transports us to another experience? How is it that something so mundane and universal can become so meaningful and particular in an instant, merely because of an association that exists only in one mind?

Usually I don't know it's coming. I'll be in the middle of an ordinary moment, when all the sudden, the ordinary becomes extraordinary. I'm caught off guard, because, why should I have such unexplainable happiness when I see the cover of a children's book? And how is it that a song can be so undeniably inseparable from one person?

It is often much more subtle though, and I don't know quite what to make of this. How can a building that I'm seeing for the first time evoke such overwhelming memories? What can I make of these visceral responses?

Perhaps things are more connected than we realize...