Traveling

As much as I'd like to say I'm leaving in the Wiener Mobile, I'll only be flying home tomorrow. This was on my block a few weeks ago. Very random, I must say.

I'm headed to visit my family over the next week. It feels a little like I'm stuck in a lengthy transitory phase... moving, switching jobs, starting school again, etc. And yet, I seem to thrive on this sort of thing. I can't imagine being "settled" in the sense that I can't imagine I won't want to try new challenges even when I am "settled." It's difficult to imagine what settled even looks like.

School is saturating me with theology. I'm on overload and haven't really been able to produce any fruitful thoughts to share here as of late. Perhaps a week in the cornfields with intermittent internet access will give me time to reflect. That's my hope anyway. At the least, I'll have to catch up on reading, write two papers and faithfully flip through my Hebrew flash cards.

I have to pick a topic for the research paper in my Gospels class. I wanted to do some research on the Gnostic gospels but the prof is limiting us to the Canon. So, any controversial verses out there you'd like to have researched? Suggestions so far: Matt 24:34, Mark 9:1 and Mark 13:10. Any other ideas?

Uncertainty

His secret will is no cause for doubt.

Recent changes in my life have left me feeling a bit overwhelmed. I remind myself that I’ve done work and school before, and that I really just need to take it one day or week at a time. And really, both are amazing opportunities that I’m blessed to have. As one college friend wrote, “think of all the thousands of people who just make widgets to get by. You get to do something you’ll love!” This is very, very true, and as I began to grumble over biblical Hebrew and Geerhardus Vos yesterday afternoon, I was struck with the thought that my life is in His hands.

Wow, Ryann, you’ve just now caught on to this? Yes, it is one thing to look back at situations, trials and mistakes that He’s brought me through and know that He was with me. It is a different experience to look forward, to know there will be clouds and storms, and to trust that He’ll take me there, only by His lead.

This article was passed to me, and tells of Sudanese Christians fleeing to Israel in the face of horrible circumstances. The friend who sent it marveled that many of these who Christians end up at her church still praise the Lord in the face of such tragedy. It is because they know this truth, perhaps more profoundly than we can understand in the land of good and plenty.

There are infinite uncertainties in life. Where will I find food, work or housing? How will I manage my time and finances? Will I ever be able to pay off my student loans and buy a house? Will I get married, have kids, and die old or young? (Will Apple stop making gadgets for me to covet?) And ultimately, so very little of these uncertainties matter.

And yet, He holds us in His hands. All that is uncertain to us – all the decisions we face, the curve balls life throws our way, even the fleeting thoughts of the frailness and transience of life – do not catch Him by surprise. All is certain with Him. My life will unfold exactly as it should. This reminder was a tremendous comfort and brought to mind the quote from Pierre Marcel. I originally thought this quote was speaking of faith-doubt, implying that not knowing His unrevealed will is no cause to doubt His existence in general. But there is another aspect to the wisdom here. His secret will for our lives – the uncertainty we feel – is no reason for us to doubt that He has a perfect plan in place, and that He has the power to see it to fruition, because He is the master of that plan.

Mystical longings?

Amid the revelations by Mother Teresa that her communion with the Lord was not what she’d hoped, and questions from a friend about whether or not it is appropriate to ask for a “religious experience” to be granted, I’ve been pondering the role of, the request for, and the desire for mystical elements in our spiritual lives. This is one of those contentious points where I’m not sure that I fully agree with the Reformed cessationist stance, but I’m also not at a point (or in any position) to formulate a new theological perspective. In fact, my thoughts on the matter are quite conflicting and incomplete. I’m not even sure that the termination of tongues and other manifestations of the Holy Spirit are of the same element as mystical experiences. That said, the following thoughts are very raw, and something I hope to flesh out more in the next few months.

I was asked the other day – advised, I should say, to try visualizing handing Jesus my heart, full of its anxiety, troubles, fears; broken and bruised, etc., and to imagine my Lord handing it back to me whole and healed.

I was turned off by this suggestion. It felt too modern psychology, additional, even extra-biblical. Was this an appropriate method to interact with G-d? I’ve done exercises like this before. Tacking my “sins” on a piece of paper to a giant wooden cross, or burning them in a campfire at some retreat or camp. These never seemed like fruitful endeavors, but I thought that perhaps I’m just not a visual learner and that others gain from this experience when for me it was almost irritating.

Did the Lord ever ask us to visualize, I wondered? Certainly there are visions throughout the Bible, and Jesus frequently used parables as illustrations. But they were concrete, at least to the extent that their formulation was governed and distributed by G-d. And, generally speaking, these experiences were given, not sought. This holds true in my experience as well. The images that I do have in my mind’s eye are those that I did not conjure up at will, but that came to me in times of prayer, reflection, or dreams. They have brought great peace in times of loneliness or sorrow, unlike the superficial actions mentioned above.

Yet, we are visual people who need visual experiences. We are even spiritual people who need mystical or religious experiences. I do not mean to suggest we must all have Revelations of Divine Love, or be moved to write mystical poetry. But we are given – very intentionally – visual and tangible symbols of the covenant as means of grace in baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

What I find wrapped in these symbols are mystical elements that the Church likes to simply call “mysteries” rather than flirt with the notions of mysticism. Webster’s highlights mystery as “a religious truth that one can know only by revelation and cannot fully understand,” and mysticism is defined as “the belief that direct knowledge of God, spiritual truth, or ultimate reality can be attained through subjective experience (as intuition or insight).” The slight difference I see is that of subjective experience on the mystical side. One could argue that partaking in communion is objective, in that its purpose is stated, even if mysterious. But do we not each connect differently during that time of private reflection? Isn’t that the great mystery that this same means of grace – one Grace for all – touches us each uniquely and transforms each person differently?

It seems to me, and not just with communion, but with many of the mysteries of our faith – the virgin birth, fulfilled prophecy, Jesus as both fully human and fully divine, etc., that if they were not wrapped in the cloak of Christian history, if they did not carry the weight of the human-touched Church through the centuries, if we could be so bold as to imagine them as new ideas – would they not strike us as mystical and strange? Is their familiarity a tarnish to what should be our very own mystical experience, fulfilling our mystical longings?