He is who I thought He was... thoughts on Joseph at Christmas

You ever wonder if Joseph was a bit comforted by "all the things they had heard and seen"?
At this time of year, we often think about Mary. Mary who was probably around 13 years old. Mary who was a ponderer of many things. Mary who had seen holy. Mary who had been called blesséd. Mary.

Mary deserves our thoughts, admiration, and consideration. There is much to be learned from the example of a young girl obedient to the point of possible shame, divorce, ridicule, and, I would imagine, even stoning.

But this year I've been thinking more about Joseph. Joseph had a dream that can be found here, but I think we do a great disservice to ourselves by setting aside his story and thinking, "Well... guess that settled that, then, didn't it." Would it, had it been you? I don't think it would of, had it been me.


How many times have you heard a call-- a voice calling you to walk a difficult path that is obviously, obviously fraught with hardships? And then, once you begin to follow, are you telling me you never turn back? I know I do... in being called to walk a road that seems long, arduous, and unknown, I often find myself looking back, "painting pictures of Egypt," and wondering... did I get this right? Am I sure this is right? But what if....

It's the "what if's" that'll getcha. It's the "what if's" that'll cut your faith right out from under your feet. It's the "what if's" that destroy frienships, marriages, families, and more... not always, but sometimes... it's the "what if's".

There's no avoiding them... at least no way I've found so far. Not yet have I found a way to say 'no' to the "what if's" in my heart and life. No way, that is, but Him. He says when we call, He answers, and the best remedy for a "what if" is a good, faithful friend that's closer than a brother.

Do you ever wonder if Joseph ever looked back and thought, "what if?"
"What if I'd divorced her... what if I'd just walked away... she wouldn't be here in this huddle of animals on the outskirts of a dirty city... He wouldn't be crying out to the night (literally), freezing, sleeping in a feeding trought instead of a home, and he would have a roof over his head.
"She would be an outcast-- poor, lonely, and forgotten but for local gossip... I wouldn't have to face down friends, neighbors, relatives who give a side-long glance and a 'tsk tsk' [or would they just click their tongues in disapproval?]... I wouldn't be responsible for someone else's kid."

I don't know what happened between the conception of this baby and the trip to Bethlehem. At least 7-8 months is what happened.. but what were they filled with? Were there days that Joseph ever doubted what he'd heard?
"What was it I heard in my dream? Where did this baby come from? Can I be sure?? Really truly sure that I got that right? Or... did I just have too much wine that evening?"

I believe Joseph was a righteous man who loved the Father, but the most righteous men and women I know still doubt... still fear sometimes. What about Joseph? Did he?
So there they were... in a cave, out under the stars, surrounded by animals or just sharing the space with a camel or two... maybe they had fresh hay... maybe they didn't. But there they were. They probably looked like refugees. They'd probably always live in poverty. What great need...

And into that need, a baby was born. Do you think Joseph's heart broke as he looked around? Did he ever think, "What have we brought this little man into? What kind of life is this for any child to lead?" Do you think he wept? I do.

And then, over the Judean hills, comes a raucus rabble of ragamuffin shepherds... and talk about dirty. You thought Mary and Joseph were bad off after 70 miles of bad road? How about these guys? They sleep with the sheep. Officially unclean by Jewish law at the time*, here they came whooping, hollering, and telling everyone they met that an angel... a choir of angels... a whole chorus of ANGELS had just told them that this baby was HERE! Was in a manger! Was to be worshipped... This baby was who they'd all been waiting for. Here they were, these secular shepherds, pushed away from the temple by the law, drawn close by Him.

And do you think Joseph, upon hearing them, was comforted? I think he was... all of those doubts, worries, fears... I imagine that, at least for a moment, they were pushed aside by the whooping and hollering of a gaggle of shepherds bursting at the seams with good news. Can't you see them, grabbing him by collar, throwing their arms around his neck in warm, Middle Eastern embrace, whacking him heartily on the back, and crying, "You're the father?! You'll never believe what we just heard about this baby! You'll never believe what we just saw! I've never seen anything like it.... an array of color, and the noise! Oh, the noise! Like nothing I've ever heard... a heavenly chorus, and it came to US!! Congratulations, man! Congratulations! Man... this is amazing! We've gotta go tell everyone else about this baby! Hope you guys get some sleep, friend... could be a long night! Everyone's gonna want to see this!" And off they ran to tell the good news... the first to share the g. And I imagine Joseph was comforted... I imagine in that moment his faith was strengthend, his heart was warmed, and he, too, was drawn near with cords of human kindness.

More later.. when we get to the temple and Anna and Simeon. ^_^

*Kent Hughes of College Church, Weaton mentions this in his sermon on Luke 2 from 1993

Don't act like you know me!

"Don't act like you know me!"

I heard somebody say that the other day. I don't remember who it was or the context... it might have been at the bus stop. But it left me thinking about so many things. I've been mulling this post over in my mind for a while, and it's finally coming to the "page" now. I hope it makes sense.

Recently I've talked to a few of my more introverted friends about communication styles. I, being a "verbal processor" and more extroverted, find communicating verbally really important. I enjoy banter; I like hearing/telling stories; and I like asking questions. I learned from good friends of mine (through their amazing examples) that one of the best ways to get to know a person is through asking questions and listening well. So, I try to make a practice of doing so.

What struck me with my introverted friends is that they rarely asked questions back. We got to talking about this... and if you want to know more, just ask. But it's not the topic I'll be covering here.

What got me thinking is this: while one often has to draw out an introvert, it is uncommon to have to draw out an extrovert. We the verbal will tell stories unprompted. We share our thoughts (sometimes feelings) more freely. We can sometimes even be heard speaking stream of consciousness about our day.

And I think.... through all that talking, we give the illusion that we are easily known.

Think about it. How well, how deeply do you know the extroverts in your life? Really?

Now there are some who are easily known. In fact, they'll tell you their entire life story and medical history if you'll stay in the room long enough, sometimes whether you're listening or not! They are the "need to be knowns" among us.

And then there are those among us who long to be known, as anyone does, but will not tell much unless we're asked. And why? Because in the asking is an expression that you care about the answer. "Why would I tell you about the real me if you don't care enough to ask?" is the general idea.

Then I began wondering-- how well am I known? How well do so many of my friends (who think they know me because they hear my stories or receive my updates) know me? And how did our relationship (only?) reach that level? Do these people realize how little / how much they know of me?

Tonight I was driving home mulling all of this over for the umpteenth time... thinking through the situations again and asking all of these self-centered questions... and a song came on the radio.

What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

Those are the questions to ask. What do I know of You -- not what do they know of me. If the only thing they know of me is You, that is enough.



Addison Road - "What Do I Know Of Holy"

American Storytelling

There are many cultures in the world that have storytelling as one of the integral aspects of their people group's life. In fact, there are a few I have studied (or am studying) that hold the ability to tell their people group's stories up as a cultural value. There are organizations dedicated to preserving oral histories, people studying the oral histories of different nations, and conferences being held to teach the art of storytelling to Westerners who'd like to learn.

I was talking to some people, many moons ago now, who study storytelling. They were talking about how it is a dying, or basically dead art in the West. We've lost our storytelling abilities...

I'd like to contest that. I think country music is an integral part of American storytelling. It may not tell every story, but it tells many of them and in memorable ways.

So I made a list of songs I could think of quickly. There are others... older ones, like songs by Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, and others that I haven't included for the sake of time, but here are a few just to prove the point. Storytelling's not dead in America... but if they're not telling your story, maybe you should.
***
Society, Society's Values / Problems
"Prodigal Daughter" -- Allison Krauss
"Welcome to the Future" -- Brad Paisley
"Independence Day" -- Martina McBride
"That's a Man" -- Jack Ingram
"Famous People" -- Brad Paisley

Patriotism
"Do You Remember" -- Darryl Worley
"Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue" -- Toby Keith
"I'm Already There" -- Lonestar
"Only in America" -- Brooks and Dunn
"Where Were You" -- Alan Jackson

Raising Children
"Godspeed" -- Dixie Chicks
"Watching You" -- Rodney Atkins
"Skin (Sarabeth)" -- Rascal Flatts
"Mr. Mom" -- Lonestar

Dating / Marriage / Family
"Front Porch Looking In" -- Lonestar
"Little Bitty" -- Alan Jackson
"We Danced" -- Brad Paisley
"Suds in the Bucket" -- Sara Evans
"Angry all the Time" -- Tim McGraw
"Red Rag Top" -- Tim McGraw

Relationships: the Good
"Little Moments Like That" -- Brad Paisley
"We Danced Anyway" -- Deana Carter
"Wild One" -- Faith Hill
"There You Are" -- Martina McBride
"Our Song" -- Taylor Swift

Relationships: the Bad
"What I Really Meant to Say" -- Cyndi Thomson
"Best Days of Your Life" -- Kelly Pickler
"When You Need My Love" -- Darryl Worley
"You'll Think of Me" -- Keith Urban
"Picture to Burn" -- Taylor Swift

Relationships: the Ugly
"Before He Cheats" -- Carrie Underwood
"A Night to Remember" -- SHeDAISY
"White Liar" -- Miranda Lambert
"Cowboy Casanova" -- Carrie Underwood
"Gunpowder and Lead" -- Miranda Lambert
"Goodbye Earl" -- Dixie Chicks

Just Life
"Alright" -- Darius Rucker
"Wide Open Spaces" -- Dixie Chicks
"Back Where I Come From" -- Kenny Chesney
"My Next 30 Years" -- Tim McGraw
"Big Star" -- Kenny Chesney
"Famous in a Small Town" -- Miranda Lambert

university squirrels

Life at a university never ceases to be interesting. Today, I saw a squirrel on my way to class. That's not so unusual, I suppose, but the fact that he was just hanging out on the back tire of someone's bike is what caught my eye. Wish I'd had a camera out and at the ready to catch Mr. Squirrel's circus act.

The squirrels on the grounds of the university are innumerable. I couldn't even say how many I see in a day, but it feels like a thousand.

I live in a place where people are very eco-minded. There are recycling receptacles all over the place, especially at bus stops. Plastic brags about being "natural" and "compostible"; labels feature words like "organic" and "locally grown"; local businesses put bowls of water outside for passing dogs to take a drink from; bike helmets come in all sizes and colors to suit your tastes.

As a body, the students, faculty, and staff, being so ecologically minded as they are, are nice to the squirrels. I have not yet seen anyone feeding them by hand or anything, but they also don't taunt, chase, or kick them. The squirrels, it would seem, have become accustomed to the large bipeds that live amongst them, even around noontime when the bipeds can be seen in large numbers, snacking on granola and sipping smoothies. The squirrels have discovered that generally the large, colored quadrupeds whose feet are black and spin rather than "step" also seem to stop and let them go first, almost like a Chinese friend holding the door open and gesturing while saying "please, you first". The squirrels have run of the place.

Given that there is now nothing to fear from the two most obvious "dangers", the squirrels do tend to run willie-nillie throughout the place, carrying the large acorns that have begun to fall shoved into their tiny rodent mouths. What is amazing is this: they are no longer afraid. The squirrels have lost their instinctual fear of people and cars, to some extent, and now live as though nothing bad will ever befall them.

Interesting, isn't it, how lax or lazy we can become in an environment we perceive as safe? Much like the university squirrels, I came home and forgot about the battle that rages around me. It's not that I stopped talking to the Father or lifting up friends, but I didn't do it in the voracious way I often did in China. I forgot to "clean" my rooms with Thoughts and actions. I walked into class thinking nothing of it, forgetting to ask Him for favor and protection. I became like the university squirrels... too lax to realize that there is real danger all around me. So I turn to the Father and ask, would you teach me, again, how to pr? How do I pr in this context, in this new life? He has the answers I'm looking for.

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm...

"With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints..."

a short thought on discouragement

I just came home not long ago from a few years out of the country. I suppose the people who generally read this blog already know that. I just came home, and that means adjustment, re-culturation (is that the right word?), transitioning into life in America and away from the support system I've had and known. It means being back in the middle of family instead of a satellite member. It means many things.

Recently, I've had some troubles. My car hit a couple "bumps in the road," in the figurative sense. It was troubling given when the trouble happened and given the adreneline rush that followed. But when I told a friend, she remarked, "Welcome to car ownership!" I think I may have teared up at that point.

This weekend I had piles of reading to do, most of it for one class in particular. Then, a prof emailed on Friday announcing another ~70 pages of content that needed to be read for Monday. I lamented this fact, being a slow reader already. A different friend said, "Welcome to life as a student!"

Yesterday, I had to take a take-home quiz. It wasn't so bad... it was for a 101 class, so it should be pretty simple, and it was. I was thankful. But there was a section on the quiz that the prof hadn't covered in class. A whole section. In the grand scheme not a big deal, but for me who tends to stress if I don't know exactly the right answer, it was... well... stressful, if I may be a bit trite. Yet another friend said, "Welcome to grad school!"

I'd like to say for the record, "Welcome to [sth]" as a response to someone's troubles is not at all helpful. Not even a little bit. In these three cases, I actually found it hurtful. It's hard to adjust to these new things. Let me just admit it in cyberspace-- I'm having a hard time adjusting. (Now that everyone in the world can potentially know this, I'll move on.)

When a friend rejoices, we ought rejoice with him, yes? And when she weeps, we weep with her. I may not have been "weeping" in the literal sense, but I was having a particularly difficult time in those three instances, and instead of understanding or comfort what I got felt like a slap in the face. It probably was meant teasingly or to be funny or "to lighten the mood." It wasn't taken that way.

I guess since the 3 people who've said these things to me don't read this blog (that I know of!) I feel free to share. Maybe I oughtn't feel so free. But just a word to the wise: don't say things like "welcome to..." when someone's facing troubles. If you don't know what to say, it's best just to say nothing. At least that's the way I see it.

a bad day

I had a bad day today. It was one of those bad transition days that just keeps getting worse and worse until you want to cry or break stuff or yell; the kind of day that just makes you angry and frustrated. I was frustrated in part b/c I couldn't find my way around this new city. I keep getting turned around here, and roads that are at one moment going east are the next moment suddenly going north, and it's confusing. Everything's wind-y (read long /I/). I'm just trying to get from point X to point Y, and hopefully from point Y home to point A, but it never seems to work out that way, and I end up lost around R or G. I find myself in the car thinking "A ha! High Street! I know where that leads!" and then, I find I was wrong.

I keep hitting my head on the ceiling in my room. It's a peaked roofed house, and I live in the attic, and if you thought a short person like me could live anywhere, perhaps you hadn't thought about the attic of a peaked roofed house. My roommates are kind and fun to be around; the house is clean and simple; the pets are friendly. But the peaked roof sometimes gets to me, and today was one of those days. I just kept bumping my head on it, but every time I did I would grit my teeth or breathe deeply, trying not to get frustrated... or not get more frustrated anyway, but it wasn't working. The more frustrated I got, the more frustrated I was with myself for being frustrated, and, well, you can see where that cycle leads.

So I was sitting here in my room, organizing stuff, which I hate doing b/c I never know where to put anything, and feeling all around bad about my day. I was borderline muttering and definitely grumbling in my spirit about new cities and how poorly this state's roads are laid out compared to home and how much I miss China.

And then... it hit me...

Grumbling and being frustrated can become really selfish. Why didn't anyone tell me that before? Why was there no one that said to me:
"I know you've had a bad day, and I'm glad we could talk it out together. But I hope you'll keep your eyes on Dad and not on yourself. Remember that things like transition, grief, loneliness, and so on [must be a friend from China] can really draw your outlook in on yourself and away from Dad and others."
Maybe a better question would be, why have I never listened to Dad when He's told me that before?

I was so lost in myself and my own thoughts, hurt, anger, frustration, and so on, that I couldn't even hear Him. To be honest, I didn't want to hear Him. I was angry, and I sinned in my anger. How thankful I am to have a loving Dad who forgives and turns me back to the right path. *whew*

So I encourage you, the next time you're having a blue day, to find a friend and talk it out or do whatever you need to "process" your pent-up feelings, and then plead with the Father to turn that frustration and anger into energy that pr-s for others and seeks their good.

Then let me know how it goes... I'm new at this, too. ^_^

in response to a well received prodding

A friend of mine posted this on her blog the other day:
"I'm secretly hoping that by linking to her very outdated blog, my friend will get the hint that she needs to start blogging again."
She posted it on fb, too... so I've been willingly prodded back into blogging by a belovéd friend.

(and I thought no one was reading!)

***********
The other day, that same friend of mine and I were talking about health and China. What is it about Chinese people, she wondered. Well educated, intelligent, experienced though they may be, they still believe in these crazy 'old wives' tales' about health. Why is that?

A good question, for which I can only provide a partial answer.

What do you do when you get a stomach ache? What makes you feel better? For many Westerners, the answer is either a fizzy drink (e.g. Sprite, ginger ale, coke) or a bowl of broth. Chicken broth. (Or Campbell's chicken soup from a can.) Why? Is there some sort of healing quality in bubbles or broth? Some people claim that it's the syrup in coke that makes you feel better, but then why does ginger ale help?

My theory-- it's comforting b/c Mom told you it would be. Mom said, "here, have a Sprite. It will make your tummy feel better," and surprisingly enough, it did. Be it the sugar, the 'clear liquid' idea, the keeping hydrated... whatever it is, Mom said it would make you feel better, you believed her, and it worked. (Could it just be the placebo effect??)

Now take what sounds like an old wives' tale and apply the same principle. Here's a good one: after you give blood, you should not use the computer, listen to anything with headphones, or use your cell phone for at least 2 days. (It's something about radiation...) Some friends of mind in NE China told me that. They were sworn off all their forms of "indoor entertainment" by whoever it was that took their blood, and they took these things very seriously. Why? Because just like Mom, the doctor had told them that those things would make them feel worse. Best to just rest, don't read too much and strain your eyes, and drink some hot water. The rest and hot water made them feel better in part because they were told it would, and they believed what they were told.

Now let me add a new layer.

Many (not all) Chinese people seem to have many fears with regards to health. One of their greatest fears-- or at least one that I heard about most-- was to 着凉 zhao liang. The liang is this concept of "the cold" or "coldness", and zhao liang usually gets translated to catching "the cold" inside your body. (This, incidentally, explains why Chinese people love the English phrase "I caught a cold" b/c they think it means the same thing as zhao liang. Westerners mean a virus, Chinese mean the liang.) The liang is easy to catch-- don't drink enough hot water, eat too many 'cold foods' (like watermelon), don't wear enough clothing or a scarf around your neck, and you can catch the liang inside. Then, all sorts of problems can erupt.

Once you've zhao-ed the liang it's hard to tell what the symptoms will be. You could get cold or flu like symptoms, and those will induce the average Chinese person to make a dash to the hospital for an I.V. An I.V. is the way these things are treated in China. They're so common, a friend of mine once joked about going to the hospital in China like this:
"Why are you hear without an iv?"
"Well, I'm just visiting a friend..."
"It does not matter; you must have an iv..."
Why an I.V.? Because it's a quick fix. It makes you feel better, if not sometimes temporarily, and people are desperate to get better quickly. Why so desperate? Because in a country where you can be called "doctor" at a hospital after 4 years of undergraduate and where doctors are paid by all sorts of medicine companies to peddle their remedies, people are fearful that no one knows what they're doing. They're afraid that they could die from a cold or the flu, and that's possible in a place where TB is still endemic. And with some of them old enough to remember hospital experiences like those portrayed in To Live, their fear is unsurprising.

You see, while Westerners see a kid with a fever and give him Tylenol, or they get a backache and grab a couple Ibuprofen, Easterners, or at least Chinese, do not yet have the familiarity with over-the-counter drugs the West does. They don't trust doctors (with good reason, as you can read above), they don't trust medicine (usually herbal and not so useful in the dosages given), and they don't trust so-called "Western medicine" (pills like Tylenol and Ibuprofen), as Westerners are often seen as a bunch of pill-poppers (again, with good reason). BUT, with nothing left to trust, they are fearful. (Remember, they also don't have a Father watching over them, so there really is no one, in their minds, that can cure them.) So what do they do? They cling, tightly, to sometimes non-sensical old wives' tales about not using the computer while pregnant or about drinking hot water to cure acne because it's all they have, and it makes them feel better, even when it's not actually going to cure anything.

But to be honest, these days, I find there's something comforting in a cup of hot water...