The Daily Office

I don't mean the place where you may happen to work.  No, I'm talking about that ancient practice of daily prayer, in which we pause at specified times of the day to focus our attention on God.  I did a post about these prayers, often called the Divine Hours, a few years ago called Time is our Currency, in which you can read a bit about the history of this tradition.

Recently, while driving a long distance by myself, I listed to a series of conference talks on prayer put on by HTB, called Wisdom of the Ages.  (the one I refer to in this post can be found here.)  One speaker, Roy Seale, talked about his experience in the Northumbria Community and their practice of praying the daily office.

Change

Change happens fast.
Not long ago I was walking quickly from one room to the next, excitedly thinking about something and not looking where I was going, and in a matter of seconds I had sprained my ankle.  Almost more than the pain, the realization that my prospects for the next few days (and potentially weeks) ahead had changed hit me like a blow.  How much more so for people in serious accidents must be the overwhelming feeling of sudden and irreversible change.

The incident just recounted happened to take place on Holy Saturday, and I soon found myself reflecting on the rapid changes the disciples saw during that eventful week we celebrate each year:  Jesus enters Jerusalem, triumphant king, masses of people going crazy and shouting their joy at his arrival.  Then, a few days later, they celebrate the Passover together and he breaks with the traditional teaching to say that he is the one that fulfills centuries of Passovers, that this piece of matzos is his body, this cup is his blood, that even the events of the Exodus point to him, their teacher sitting there with them.  Yet that very night, he is arrested, tried, and taken to die a horrendous death, the same crowds of Jerusalem yelling "crucify him"!  And only a week after they had entered the city to the welcoming shouts of the people, they find themselves huddled in a room behind locked doors, fearing that they too might follow to death the man they had thought to be the promised deliverer.  How might they have felt?

Fortunately God had one more change planned:  Christ arose, death swallowed up in life, darkness lost in light, sin and evil defeated by the wisdom and love and goodness of God; the cosmos was changed irrevocably by the power of God.

Yet in the past weeks I have come to realize that change also takes place slowly.  
Our bodies heal slowly.  The miracle of plant life, hidden beneath the frozen grays and dead browns of winter, emerges slowly each day.  Spiritual growth takes time; in fact it will take our whole life.  It takes time and discipline to enter the fullness of life Christ freely gives.

There seems to be a relation between both kinds of change - slow and fast.  For a plant, it takes weeks and months of waiting, of sun and of rain, before the blossom emerges and all of a sudden its appearance is transformed.  The slow change, initiated by the sudden fall to earth of a seed, results in another quick change, an unfolding of color.  Likewise with our spiritual life, the two are inextricably linked.  I leave you with this thought, and with the challenge to think on it and to persevere with the small changes asked of you.

A Year in Books

As I was trying to figure out what would be appropriate for the first post of the year, I thought about the important role of books. Books tell a lot about a person, and for a moment I wasn't sure I could be vulnerable enough to make this list. But for lack of a better idea, I thought I'd share. I'd appreciate your recommendations at the end.

In roughly chronological order (since I am usually reading more than one book at a time, this was pretty much impossible to figure out), here is a list of the books I read this year, with a few comments:

• Orthodoxy, by G. K. Chesterton. I enjoyed this, especially some of the earlier chapters. Chesterton has a delightful sense of humor.
  
• Philosophical Problems of Quantum Physics, by Werner Heisenberg. I think more practicing scientists should seriously reflect on the philosophy of the science. I don't think I actually finished this book due to end of year business, but it was interesting while it lasted.
  
• Blue like Jazz, by Donald Miller. Thought-provoking and a good read. Can't remember exactly when I read it.
  
• Walk Two Moons, by Sharon Creech. I'm glad I finally got around to reading this, upon recommendation of a good friend.
  
• The Same Stuff as Stars, by Katherine Paterson. Young adult book about a girl in a struggling family. Another good read, and not as depressing as it sounds.
  
• Everything Must Change, by Brian McLaren. You should read this if you want to be involved in discussion concerning the emerging church. See my posts on this book for further comments.
  
• The Soul of the American University: From Protestant Establishment to Established Nonbelief, by George M. Marsden. I learned so much reading this book that has stuck with me. Especially highly recommended to those who are in academia.
  
• My Name is Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok. Intense but very good. I expected no less from this good author. If you've never heard of him, you have some good reading ahead of you.
  
• The Divine Conspiracy, by Dallas Willard. This is my all-time favorite of the year (probably of the decade!). Tremendously encouraging. Read it, if you haven't already.
  
• Persuasion, by Jane Austen
• The Fellowship of the Ring, by J.R.R. Tolkien. I picked this up to help me get through finals week. I think this was the third time through, but I hadn't read it since high school, so I really enjoyed the richness that I'd forgotten about.
  
• Also some poems by Emily Dickinson and Wendell Barry
• Of course, I have also spent quite a bit of time with physics and math textbooks,mostly regarding but not limited to quantum mechanics.
  

Books I'm reading (yes, this habit of mine does make my bedside table rather top-heavy):

• The Two Towers, by Tolkien. Once again, this is a re-read.
  
• What the Best College Teachers Do, by Ken Bain. (Upon recommendation by my housemate)
  
• Hinduism, by H.L. Richard (upon recommendation by my Dad)
  
• One World: The Interaction of Science and Theology, by John C. Polkinghorne. I picked this up at a used book sale for reading on the bus (because it was relatively light-weight) and found myself not wanting to put it down when I got off the bus.
  

Here are some books that I hope to read in the near future (hopefully in the coming year)

• Knowing Christ Today, by Willard
• The Spirit of the Disciplines, by Willard
• Shakespeare's Sonnets
• The Return of the King, by Tolkien

This last list is shorter than it should be: partly because I am tired right now and can't think of any others, and partly because I need some recommendations!

Ring out 2009

As 2009 comes to a close, I pause and write here realizing this marks exactly one year of weekly posting. I am a bit sad that my last post has ended up being so tardy (I was away for Christmas), but perhaps it is most fitting that I write today.

As I write I feel inadequate to the task of writing something on this day which is given significance only by a small change in the numbers by which we mark our days. I look over the posts and back over the year that has passed. In some ways these posts seem distant from the 'facts' of my life - a year full of change and uncertainty, of trials and joys. The interludes of rest seemed nearly as intense as the times of business. Yet I like to think that there is not so great a disparity between my life and my musings here as first might appear. For my thoughts cannot be separated from the life I am living. I note also that except when shear exhaustion prevented me from thinking clearly, the times of greatest stress often force the deepest or most relevant thoughts.

I have learned much, but I have also forgotten much, and am glad for the record of thought that this blog leaves. I hope you have found some encouragement or food for thought here.

I will close with a poem by Tennyson which is probably familiar to you, but which I only discovered relatively recently. I am struck today as I read it how futile, now naive even, the hopeful tone of the poem seems - until the last line. I give thanks for this year. I give thanks for our hope.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife,
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweet manners, purer laws.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Swirling golden leaves, wet earth, blue sky.

Bicycling one evening after deep dusk
yellow light from a window spreads itself on the ground
silhouetting a young deer
caught in a fine moment of grace –
and my wheels carry me on.

In the morning I tread on fragile icy grass-sheaths,
in the evening I kick through the leaves
between the bus stop and my door,
wondering at the other moments missed in the relentless pace of day–
and my feet carry me forward

I only noticed on the first snow that summer had come and gone,
tripping along from cherry blossoms to fallen leaves,
and I was strangely sad for canoe paddles that never reached cool lake water
and paints and paper smelling of city and not pine –
and time carries me onward.

I grasp at ideas while thoughts run circles in my head
hopelessly curious of the most insignificant insight
until I take a moment to really stop
and then the thinking is terrifying –
unless it carries me away from self.

Discipleship

Tonight I will simply quote a few excerpts from The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard, which I am still reading (and enjoying!). These are from chapter 8, On Being a Student, or Disciple, of Jesus.

It is with this entire context [all of our life in apprenticeship to Jesus] that we most richly and accurately speak of "learning from him how to lead my life as he would lead my life if he were I." (p285)

Once you stop to think about it, you can see that not to find your job to be a primary place of discipleship is to automatically exclude a major part, if not most, of your waking hours from life with him. (p285)
And to repeat the crucial point, if we restrict our discipleship to special religious times, the majority of our waking hours will be isolated from the manifest presence of the kingdom in our lives. (287)

Eternity is not something waiting to happen, something that will commence later. It is now here. Time runs its course within eternity. (288)

Practically speaking...

... practical, experimental steps seem to be lacking... [discipleship] remains only a distant, if beautiful, ideal. (291)
... what exactly would one do who didn't intend to go into "full-time Christian service" but still wanted to be a disciple...?

"Clarity about the bargain" - to paraphrase: we "count the cost" and realize that we have found an incredible bargain in this kingdom! (293)

"What we should do":
"Ask "

The rule of the kingdom is to ask (295)

"Dwell, reside, in His Words"

He always sees clearly what is at issue. We rarely do (297)

"Now Decide: The power of Decision and Intention"

Here Willard quotes William Law:
"It was this general intention that made the primitive Christians such eminent instances of piety... And if you will here stop and ask yourself why you are not as pious as the primitive Christians were, your own heart will tell you that it is neither through ignorance nor inability, but purely because you never thoroughly intended it."

Observations

This week I've been thinking and doing a bit of research on a couple of topics. Those posts, however, are not yet ready, so this week I will share a few observations I have made recently (you can take this preamble as a warning for the slight chaos of this post).

I noticed in May that the red maple tree outside my window was performing an autumn-in-reverse trick: the deep red leaves were turning summer-green.

As I played the piano this evening, I found myself once again reflecting on the relationship between time and music. Music, more than almost anything else, makes a person loose track of time. Yet music is distinctly bound to the limits and structure of time: it is art and expression that only exists in time. Thus it both frees from time and is bound by time. There is a little clock that sits on my piano. Within a year after I got it, it stopped ticking. It seemed somehow appropriate and I have left it that way ever since.

While walking through the woods and along the roads last week, I saw these beautiful wildflowers with large clusters of purple-pink flowers on tall stalks which give off a fragrance reminiscent of lilacs. I learned that these flowers were the milkweeds I was familiar with from my fall walks. It was almost strange to think that those green meadows and roadsides would be full of rattling pods and silky seed-parachutes by September. Funny how I never knew that before, and how it has changed my perception of that fascinating plant. I know there is some parallel to people in this.

Perhaps it's just the way that some people are different from others, but I have a strong suspicion that those who do art see things differently. I am convinced it is because they look at the world differently.

Carboard Boxes Full of Treasures

"Give away all your stuff and follow me." That's essentially what Jesus tells the rich young ruler (Luke 18:22). It's a passage I've wrestled with for years, and came to my mind again as a I reflected upon this past week. After graduating from college last weekend, I packed up most of my belongings, crammed them into my family's van, and headed home. That was just the beginning. My family is hoping to put our house on the market next week, so the Realtor tells us our house (where we've lived for over ten years) needs to be organized and open. My closet needs to be half empty, some of the many bookshelves need to go, cabinets must be emptied and moved... you get the picture. This boils down to hours of packing and moving and organizing and packing and moving. Mom says our stuff has become a burden.

I've always thought it wouldn't be that hard to live with only the most necessary possessions. When I travel I happily get by on the few items that fit into my small suitcase. As long as I have enough food to sustain me, enough clothes to keep me warm, friends to be with, and most importantly, God as my portion, I am quite content. Or is there one more stipulation: that all my treasured belongings are safely at home or in my parent's attic?

You see, what I've realized this week is that it's one thing to think about living for God, unhindered by material possessions. It's another thing to actually give away that comfy sweater I wear on the weekends, or that set of dishes for special occasions, or that box of items from my childhood, each of which are tied to memories. And what about all those things which were gifts? Somehow it doesn't seem right to give them away again, especially if we use or enjoy them, or if they remind us of a dear friend. It seems that Jesus doesn't ask everyone to give away all they own, but he did ask that one man to do so, and I often wonder what exactly, if not that, he asks of me.

Jesus and his disciples discuss how it is nearly impossible for a rich man to enter God's kingdom. Then Jesus says something which encourages me: "What is impossible with men is possible with God." (Luke 18:27) We really can't do this on our own, but God, the all-powerful God, will graciously reach out to help us.

Despite this graciousness on the part of our Lord, shouldn't we also at least try? By just living in the way that I am most comfortable, trusting God to change me and free me from my attachment to things, I am pretty sure I am "cheapening" God's grace (to borrow a concept from Deitrick Bonhoeffer). I need to pray that God will change me, and to practice things like generosity. This isn't works righteousness. This is recognizing my tendencies to be selfish and hoard things unless I discipline myself otherwise, and pleading my need for grace.

I think these thoughts also apply to how we spend our time, but I talked about that on March 9th. Will you join me in this struggle? It is my prayer that, twenty years from now, through His grace I will find it easier, rather than harder, to give away anything and everything as I follow Christ.

Waiting

I just finished waiting for my soup to heat up (and am eating it as I write this). While I stood there in front of the stove, I tried to think of what I could be doing with those few minutes (besides just standing there). Surely there was something more useful! I realized that I find it incredibly difficult to just wait. I get restless, and if my body is constrained, my mind darts around, trying to find something useful to think about! This semester, as I have waited to hear back from graduate schools, had been a bit draining. Why is it that I find waiting so difficult? Perhaps it is that waiting makes me feel useless. Perhaps I measure my worth too much by what I accomplish.

I don't think I am alone in feeling this way. Much of technological marketing seems to rely on the assumption that faster is better: the less time one has to spend waiting for a process to run on a computer, the better. If I can do my email on my iphone while waiting for the bus, my life will be enhanced. You can probably think of more examples. Or simply consider how annoyed or frustrated we tend to get when we have to wait in a long line for anything.

I do not want to suggest that we should all become lazy and spend our days waiting around for something to happen. I do want to suggest that we need to learn how to wait well. I know I do.

Consider how much of our spiritual life depends on waiting on the Lord. Isn't that what prayer is all about? The liturgical calendar also emphasizes this: over half of the year is "Ordinary Time", a time between the major celebrations. Other major seasons are also focused on preparation and waiting, such as Advent and Lent. Of course all these point to the ongoing waiting of the church. James speaks of the patience of the farmer as he waits for the land to yield its harvest (James 5:7). I'm sure there are things in my own life that I can seize as opportunities to learn how to wait, as a sort of training.

As Paul writes:

we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. (Romans 8:23-25)

Looking at the world around me, and at my own life, I know that there is a long ways to the true fulfillment of our hope. I pray that I might learn grace in my waiting, and that we all might live patiently and expectantly "while we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ" (Titus 2:13)

"Time is our Currency"

For some time I've been wanting to write a reflection about the use of the book of hours, and a couple things I learned this week make this the ideal time to do so.

The keeping of the hours originally arose out of the Jewish tradition of praying at set times of the day. The first Christians, who were often Jews as well, naturally incorporated this practice into their prayer lives. For example, it is interesting to note that when Peter had the vision about eating the Gentile's food on the rooftop, he had gone there to observe the sixth hour prayers.

These regular prayers throughout the day developed in the Middle Ages into the complex and lengthy prayers used in the monasteries. These were modified and shortened for use by laity and eventually we have the form used by many today, consisting of four hours, or offices: morning, midday, vespers, and compline.

I have had the opportunity, since Advent, to use a book of hours which lays out these prayers in an easy format, allowing me to have beautiful prayers to assist me in prayer four times a day. I have learned much - perhaps I should say convicted of much - from these prayers. Firstly, the use of liturgy for prayer is something I'd like to discuss in further detail in a later post. More to the topic, I have found that despite the fact that each office only takes 5-10 minutes, it has been it surprisingly hard to stop whatever I'm doing and find a quiet place to pray. Even if I'm working on something by myself, it is easy to push it off. Why is this the case? If I love spending time with God, how can prayer possibly become a chore, a bother?

Donald Miller, in his book Blue Like Jazz (which I read this week), tells asking a man he saw serving each day how he did it - didn't he loose patience, cleaning up after everyone else? The man answered, wisely, "If we are not willing to wake up in the morning and die to our selves, perhaps we should ask ourselves whether or not we are really following Jesus." I confess that this really convicted me.

I realized that the biggest way I am unwilling to die to myself is with my time. Chris Rice, in his song "Life Means So Much", says "Time is our currency". In many ways, especially for us college students, I think this is so true. And it is something I cling to, thinking that it is something I own. As I wrote on Jan 25, time is wonderfully complex. But more importantly: unless I am willing to give it up to serve, I cannot truly follow Christ. I know I'll be leaning heavily on his grace and mercy as I seek change in this area of my life.

History taken from The Divine Hours, by Phyllis Tickle.
Picture: Book of Hours, Paris. Circa 1460-1465. Picture taken from http://www.library.usyd.edu.

Learning to Lament

I've been pondering again about time and found something I read this week in the book of Jeremiah particularly intriguing. As Jeremiah proclaims God's judgment on his people's rebellion, he exhorts them:

Now, O women, hear the word of the LORD...
Teach your daughters how to wail;
teach one another a lament. (9:20)

In their sorrow over their sin and in their grief at the disaster coming on them, the people are to take the time to teach one another how to mourn. Isn't this so contrary to what we value in our culture? First, we want to think that we will live forever. Perhaps by ignoring death and our human frailty we will not be bound by fear of it. Secondly, the verse implies that lamenting takes time. As we move busily from one thing to the next, how are we supposed to have the time to teach each other how to lament, let alone find the time to mourn properly ourselves?

It's not a question of whether we should mourn or not: as Christians we should be genuinely sorrowful when we consider our sins. Also, there is so much pain and suffering in the world that even if we do not directly experience ourselves it we should learn how to "mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12:15). It seems to me that we in the church should be actively involved in both types of lamenting. I am grateful for the liturgies of repentance that have been used for centuries, and for so many of the Psalms that give us words of lament to pray. However, I think we in the North American church especially should devote more thought and time to mourning our sins and to mourning with others in their pain.

Beautifully, all this lamenting can be balanced by rejoicing. The poetry in Jeremiah 9 ends with this declaration:

but let him who boasts boast about this:
that he understands and knows me,
that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness,
justice and righteousness on earth,
for in these I delight,"
declares the LORD. (23)

Not only is he a God of judgment, but he is a god who delights in exercising kindness, justice and righteousness in the midst of our fallen world. He is the one who has freed us to mourn loss at death but not fear it, for

"he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death." (Hebrews 2:14)

It is my hope that I will grow into this business of taking time - time to lament, and time to rejoice.

Time

What is time? We pass through it, yet we do not change it. We are shaped by its passage and yet it is in many ways intangible. How do we measure it? With ticking clocks or flashing lights, with beating of hearts and heavy eyelids. Everything with a constancy to it, a constancy unchanged by time, allows us to carefully mark out its passage.

How often we cling to the regularity of time; how often we bemoan its passage! During exam week, I remind myself "only a few more days and these things will pass" and I am comforted knowing that the relentless passage of time will bring an end to things I find challenging. Not an hour later, I might exclaim, "if only there was more time in this day!" How paradoxical are my attitudes towards time.

Since Einstein, time has been delightfully impossible to measure. We can imagine a spacecraft traveling past us quickly. To us it would seem that their clocks were ticking slowly. We move through space at a tremendous speed on this little blue and green ball, cartwheeling with our galaxy in a great dance of motion. At what speed does time progress, then, in other parts of the universe? How does God measure time? Sometimes I am astounded by this aspect of his creativity.

~This was taken from a recent journal entry of mine. I hope to explore this topic more in further posts, especially looking at the relationship between our lives and our view of time. I may also look at a bit more of the strangeness in our world that physics attempts to explain :)