Grace

Well, this afternoon I’d thought maybe to post something a bit light-hearted. But I can’t quite bring myself to that right now. The school has seen yet another “record low” today. This is getting to be a saddening and disturbing trend. But there is always grace for the moment. In this case, it was the common grace of fencing. :)

Of course, there is something very therapeutic about flaying someone with a saber. (Many thanks to Jeremiah and Michael who agreed to be on the receiving end :)!) But there is more to it than that. Some good solid exertion has moved me from depressed and listless to energized and exhausted. And granted, Jeremiah and Michael gave back a good percentage of what they got :). Bruises are their own means of grace. They have a way of intruding themselves upon your thoughts and, if not completely desirable, at least the physical discomfort can keep your mind off the emotional stuff. And endorphins are not to be underestimated.

The bruises also make me realize the physical realities around me which I’ve allowed to go by the wayside. It’s been an impeccable spring, but a largely unenjoyed one, since my thoughts have been elsewhere. Somehow listening to the birds and looking at the pretty flowers and feeling the soft breeze did not seem like appealing activities. So I will tomorrow. It is Sat., so I can get up in time to watch the sun rise (haven’t done that in a while) and I will help sew costumes for Eden Troupe and I will pray.

So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the LORD."
I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;
It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.
Lamentations 3:18-26

Despair and Hope

I have not posted anything on my blog in a while, I suppose. It’s not that I haven’t been journaling – it’s just that none of it was ever going to make it to the public forum of my blog. But having now sifted through my emotions and thoughts – and having left my blog dormant for more than a month – I figured I may as well expound/emote from my little soapbox.

I have had, recently, much cause for sadness and general distress. A metaphysical tornado has destroyed what has been a beloved home to me for the past four years – a place I’ve felt safe and loved. By this disaster I do not mean only the recent resigning of our professors – this destruction has been in process since at least last semester; their resignation was just the most recent and confirming symptom of something that I have been feeling more and more. Now I see it fully. My home has been simultaneously destroyed and recreated and I do not belong to this new thing. It does not want me (whether it knows it consciously or not) and I, seeing it for what it is, do not want it either. I have packed my mental bags and am ready to go… yet I must live on in an uncomfortable tension for the next month and a half until I can graduate and flee into exile. I feel like I should be dead to this “world,” but I’m forced to still live here, eking out each day until I can leave. Metaphorical suicide – removing myself once for all – would sound like a wonderful option if it weren’t so darned impractical.

While I have lost just about all hope for the school, there are a few things I can take comfort in. Like my church or Dr. George and his lecture. There is life outside – life that is unaffected by what happens here. There are Christians who love each other and who can work together toward a common goal. There are thoughtful Christians out there who do make a positive impact. There are charitable Christians out there who refuse to fanatically support false dichotomies. There are even some who think that a postmodern, utilitarian Christian is not an oxymoron and does have a contribution to make. And ultimately, as Phillips, Craig, and Dean sing, “the power is still where it’s always been.” This doesn’t prevent sorrow, but it does prevent despair. God is still in control, still working through His people, and, whatever the fate of the school, all of this will be good for me and my brothers and sisters. And that fills me with hope.