Insofar as we love the gospel, to that same extent, let us study the ancient tongues... And let us notice that without the knowledge of languages we can scarcely preserve the gospel. Languages are the sheath which hides the sword of the Spirit, they are the chest in whichs this jewel is enclosed, the goblet holding this draught... Where the languages are studied, the proclamation will be fresh and powerful, the scriptures will be searched, and the faith will be constantly rediscovered through ever new words and deeds.

My first day of Greek, our instructor handed us this quote from Luther. (Any good Calvinistic can appreciate Luther, when he's right. :) If you told me in junior year of undergrad that in ten years, I'd be applying to PhD programs in ancient languages, I think I might have killed myself. That's not an over-exaggeration. I remember sitting on a cold concrete bench, on a crisp fall day much like today, crying, exasperated by my failure to comprehend modern Arabic. In fact, most mornings I would wake up and tear at the thought of going to class. (Arabic was, of course, a M-F 9am course.) I feared the reproachful eye of man. Literally - I dreaded the male students - native speakers - who would glare at any non-Arabic speaking females that didn't have the sense to sit in the back, behind the men. When I finished my required language courses for my degree, a heavy weight lifted. Never again, I thought. I purposefully picked a master's program with no language course requirement (only a comprehension exam) so that I would not have to sit in another language class.

And then I went to seminary. And I began to understand that to do what I wanted to do - to do what I felt called to do - I would have to study some languages. Maybe Hebrew and Greek would suffice. Terrified, I started with Hebrew. And wouldn't you know? Hebrew is a heckuva lot like Arabic. Even classical biblical Hebrew shares enough in common with modern standard Arabic that it was familiar, and not in a I'm-going-to-cringe kind of way. Before I knew it, I actually liked Hebrew. No, I loved it. By this point last year, I knew I would be not only learning Hebrew, Greek and classical Arabic, but perhaps Syriac and Aramaic, and maybe even some Coptic, too. Latin might be fun, just for kicks. German and French are always required at the doctoral level, unfortunately, so I'd have to throw those in as well.

Wait, I'm not a language person! I can't keep verb endings straight from one form to the next. I hate matching gender, number and tense. I can't roll my "r's" or perfect a glottal stop. I have a hard enough time with English grammar. Geesh, God, don't you get it? I'm not a langague person!

And that's when I remember that His ways are not our ways, and He uses clay pots to display His glory. I'm not a language person. In fact, I'm pretty average in my classes. But I know the gifts He has given me, and what He has called me to do with them is to glorify Him. Studying the ancient tongues of the biblical text is, in Luther's image, drinking rich draught. It's also a reminder of my own limits, and how He overcomes them.

Two weeks from today, I will interview with the department head at my Top Choice. I am terrifed and excited, grateful and undeserving. Me, a doctoral candidate in a language program? Not on my own merits but on the One who has brought me thus far, I shall lean.

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.

To Tears

I’ve rarely experienced moments of intense emotion when reading commentaries but I was brought to tears by this, and I wanted to share it.

I’m prepping a study of Psalm 40, and not owning a commentary of my own; I borrowed Spurgeon’s from my pastor’s library. (Thanks, David. You should comment here sometime :)

Versus 6-10 cross-reference with Hebrews 10:5-9; a connection I would not have made on my own, but Hebrews makes it very clear that Ps. 40:6-10 is speaking directly about Christ:

Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,
but my ears you have pierced;
burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require.

Then I said, "Here I am, I have come— it is written about me in the scroll.

I desire to do your will, O my God; your law is within my heart."

I proclaim righteousness in the great assembly;
I do not seal my lips, as you know, O LORD.

I do not hide your righteousness in my heart;
I speak of your faithfulness and salvation.
I do not conceal your love and your truth from the great assembly.

Spurgeon exposits verse 7: Then I said, “Here I am, I have come – it is written about me in the scroll,” with the following:

Immanuel did not send but come; he came in his own personality, in all that constituted his essential self he came forth from the ivory palaces to the abodes of misery; he came promptly at the destined hour; he came with sacred alacrity as one freely offering himself. In the eternal decree it is thus recorded. The mystic roll of predestination which providence gradually unfolds, contained within it, to the Saviour’s knowledge, a written covenant, that in the fullness of time the divine I should descend to earth to accomplish a purpose which hecatombs of bullocks and rams could not achieve. What a privilege to find our names written in the book of life, and what an honour, since the name of Jesus heads the page! Our Lord has respect to his ancient covenant engagements, and herein he teaches us to be scrupulously just in keep our word; have we so promised, it is so written in the book of remembrance? {Emphasis Spurgeon's.}

I like that He did not send but come. That He held the promise of the covenant, and that He spoke His promise in the Psalms. That we find Christ in the Psalms makes clear this was His holy plan, this was no afterthought. His redemptive work on the cross is not Plan B. This causes me to pause, reflecting on His wisdom, His purposes, His provision. If He planned this much for himself, how much does He plan for His Bride, His Beloved? This is humbling, to say the least. In fact, my thoughts were such that I could not put into words, and had to fall in tears of joy, thankfulness and praise. He is a good, good G-d.

Thanksgiving Routines

I have many defaults. Perhaps they are ruts. I’d rather think of them as routines, a slice of comfort in hectic world. I have a default pair of jeans, a default fleece pullover, default shoes, etc. Even a default hair style. I walk and drive the same routes, order the same drink at Starbucks, and pump gas at the station next to a frequented Target.

This is simplicity, it makes my life easier and it’s reassuring.

Sure, I change my routine every now and then. There are additions, minor adjustments. I may go from habitually wearing the sea-green fleece to wearing the fuzzy pink sweater. I might add “fake bangs” so my default pony-tail is not quite so dull. This Saturday, I made scrambled eggs instead of sunny side up. It was wrong, and I won’t make that mistake again.

Yesterday, I realized how extensively this carries over into my spiritual life in the matter of thanksgiving. Obviously, it’s that time of year to consider what I’m grateful for, to thank G-d for His many blessings, etc. I confess that 9 times out of 10 this reflection is done half-heartedly, out of obligation and perhaps insincerely. Sure, I’m thankful for a paycheck, a place live, my friends and family. But as my natural self, I am restless, unsatisfied and discontent. Reflecting on my blessings as things takes me down a destructive road, despondent and selfish.

But it is not the blessings themselves to which we should be responding; it’s the Giver. We see this in Job’s response to his trials.

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
And naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
May the name of the Lord be praised.” (1:21)

And, what I’ve found this Thanksgiving season, reflecting on Him – His holiness, faithfulness, grace, love, mercy, etc., directs my thoughts to the outpourings of His goodness in my life, and what really can be counted as the only true blessings. It is the internal transformation and external manifestations of His presence that are His favor, His blessings, which He freely bestows on all called into fellowship with Him.

Everything else is just stuff.

However, I’m still in default-mode. My cognitive expressions for all spiritual impressions are to worship Him in two manners – song and prayer. And, like all my other defaults, even with fresh eyes, they can still become ruts. Singing quickly becomes something I do in the shower to annoy my loud neighbors. Prayers for small blessings (stuff) are rote and routine. Unless or until it is something Really Big or Important, I do not think to thank Him, thus I fail to reflect on His character, fail to be drawn into His presence and experience the joy of knowing my true blessings.

I’m finding much of what I contemplate goes back to finding rest in His strength. A right understanding and response to His blessings requires drawing into His presence and acting out of His transforming power.

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to G-d the Father through him.” Col. 3:17

On Autumn and Remembrance

I love Autumn. I hate Winter (well, I hate Winter in Chicago, when you see maybe an hour of real sunlight, your backside gets chapped from the cruel wind, and your feet never really thaw even with two pairs of thermal socks on under the covers). Winter in DC is not quite so bad, but the farther South I get, the more I'd like to be. However, I'm afraid I'd miss the changing of the seasons.

The onset of Autumn brings a flood of memories and enjoyable moments. And, there is this duality of Autumn unlike any other season. In Spring, the earth is coming to life. In Summer, life is at it's peak. And in Winter, all things are dead. Autumn, however, brings both the slow, strangely beautiful onset of death - the changing of leaves, the shortening of days, the grass fades and the temperature drops. It is gradual, as if the Earth knows that we are creatures of habit that do not like sudden change. And yet, as a good Midwestern and farmer's granddaughter should note, with Autumn comes the harvest. There is provision for the Winter; hope to get through until Spring.

I walked to work this morning in a chilly drizzle. I laughed to myself, thinking if I were still in college I would not bother with the umbrella. Umbrella's are for wimps. But in the real world, I attempt to pull-off 'professional,' and semi-soaking wet doesn't cut it. Remember when you could just run home from class (in the rain), change into pj's and an oversized sweatshirt, curl up under a quilt with a cup of hot tea and read all day?

This line of thought took me on a journey of Autumn memories. The start of a new semester, football games, apple cider, pumpkin pie, Friends night with the Locust Street Girls, swing dancing, the leaves changing colors on campus, Quad squirrels attacking my lunches, driving to G & G's in a car that didn't go over 50mph (without serious consequences) for Thanksgiving, etc. Memory is such a powerful element in our lives. The same session of memories that bring happiness can also bring sorrow.

I was struck by how often G-d calls us to remember. His Covenant, His wonders, His mercy, His deeds. In the Old Testament, when His people are stubborn, He reminds them to reflect on His history with them. Remember who brought you out of slavery? Who parted the Sea and delivered the Promised Land? Now stop being mules, and place your faith in He Who Is Your History as a People.

I lost sight of this history once, and let the memories of His work in my life fade, until hope faded with them. It is a strange feeling when the soul longs for the life you do not let it remember. I could say that my soul overpowered my mind, but that would attribute too much to my doing. The Grace that called me to Him was stored in my soul's memory, and called me once again to remember His goodness, mercy, provision and hope.

Remember this, fix it in mind,
take it to heart, you rebels.
Remember the former things,
those of long ago;
I am God, and there is no other;
I am God, and there is none like me.
I make known the end from the beginning,
from ancient times, what is still to come.
I say: My purpose will stand,
and I will do all that I please.

(Isaiah 46:9 & 10)

I remember the day He reminded me He Is My History, my beginning and my end. My mind walked through both good and bad memories. Memories of His provision, His comfort, His love. And memories of my pride, my sinfulness, and my selfishness. The contrast of His History in my life vs. My History in my life... that is the power of memory. It humbles us, calls us to repentance, fills us with joy and wonder at the mercy of our King, and compels us to worship Him.

Places and History

Last Tuesday night I was able to have dinner with my best friend from college. Ah, good memories. Memories of His faithfulness and provision and the blessings of friendship. This picture was supposed to capture my love of campus, college life and the history of His work in my life. (It's one of my favorite spots on campus.)
One of the things we talked about was the foundation of our friendship, our shared faith in Christ. This commitment to Christ has held our friendship together, despite some tough times -- and mostly due to my own sinfulness and stupidity. It was during this admittance of my sins, from a period that I can barely call a walk with Christ (more like a forced crawl), that I was able to see I was not frozen by guilt, which is immobilizing and often unhealthy, but that I was actually grieving my sins, and the suffering and pain caused by them.

Here was a liberating thought -- that grieving is a healing process, brought and done by the Holy Spirit. It does not leave you trapped in shame. Instead, it fosters true repentance, placing the emphasis on the work of Grace in my life and not the presence of imperfections and the prideful belief that He cannot use someone as tainted as I. (See 2 Cor 3:6 , 4:7 and 7:10.)

Once again, this brought joy to my heart, and a deeper understanding of His irresistible Grace.

But as always, when we are brought into deeper understanding, we are often prompted to act on that understanding. It is not enough to know, we must become.

Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.

Repent, for just as your Father in heaven forgives, so you should forgive as well.

So much easier said than done! It is this history of lessons learned that visiting my old campus brings to mind. That I must daily remember His work in my life, and moved by His Grace, must also daily forgive.