"He took her by the hand and said to her, 'Talitha Koum,' which means, 'Little girl, arise.'"

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Problem of Pain (I-Ch.3): The Intolerable Compliment

Restraining myself from typing the whole book here, I will instead jot some favorite quotes... well, let's call them "favorite, favorite, favorite quotes," because I have basically highlighted 3/4 of this book so far.  So this is me, trying desperately to be selective (a task basically impossible in regards to Lewis).  Here goes:

"When pain is to be borne, a little courage helps more than much knowledge, a little human sympathy more than much courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all."

"You may attribute miracles to Him, but not nonsense... Nonsense remains nonsense even when we talk it about God."

"The Divine 'goodness' differs from ours not as white from black but as a perfect circle from a child's first attempt to draw a wheel.  But when the child has learned to draw, it will know that the circle it then makes is what it was trying to make from the very beginning."

"What would really satisfy us would be a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, 'What does it matter so long as they are contented?'  We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in Heaven - a senile benevolence who, as they say, 'liked to see young people enjoying themselves,' and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, 'a good time was had by all.'"

"My conception of love needs correction... Love is something more stern and splendid than mere kindness... There is kindness in Love: but Love and kindness are not coterminous, and when kindness is separated from the other elements of Love, it involves certain fundamental indifference to its object, and even something like contempt of it... Kindness, merely as such, cares not whether its object becomes good or bad, provided only that it escapes suffering.  As Scripture points out, it is bastards who are spoiled: the legitimate sons are punished... If God is Love, He is, by definition, something more than mere kindness.  And it appears, from all the records, that though He has often rebuked us and condemned us, He has never regarded us with contempt.  He has paid us the intolerable compliment of loving us, in the deepest, most tragic, inexorable sense."

"We are, not metaphorically, but in very truth, a Divine work of art, something that God is making, and therefore something with which He will not be satisfied until it has a certain character.  Here again we come up against what I have called the 'intolerable compliment.'"

"It is natural for us to wish that God had designed for us a less glorious and less arduous destiny; but then we are wishing not for more love, but for less."

"When Christianity says that God loves man, it means that God loves man: not that He has some 'disinterested,' because really indifferent, concern for our welfare, but that in awful and surprising truth, we are the objects of His love.  You asked for a loving God: you have one."

"God of mere miracle has made Himself able so to hunger and created in Himself that which we can satisfy.  If He requires us, the requirement is of His own choosing.  If the immutable heart can be grieved by the puppets of its own making, it is Divine Omnipotence, no other, that has so subjected it, freely, and in a humility that passes understanding."

"A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell.  But God wills our good, and our good is to love Him...and to love Him we must know Him: and if we know Him, we shall in fact fall on our faces.  If we do not, that only shows that what we are trying to love is not yet God - though it may be the nearest approximation to God which our thought and fantasy can attain."

"We are bidden to 'put on Christ,' to become like God.  That is, whether we like it or not, God intends to give us what we need, not what we now think we want.  Once more, we are embarrassed by the intolerable compliment, by too much love, not too little."

Monday, February 14, 2011

This Is Why I Don't Write Music

I have never in my life been more fully aware of the foul state of my own soul.  The ugly, dark, hateful wreak of sin would taint my every thought, my every desire, my every motive if I would be so inclined, and unfortunately... I am very often, so very often, "so inclined."  

God help me:  "I am poor and needy, yet He thinks of me."  

If I will ever be able to write music (here now, I'd say, doubtful), such songs will never be written - they will be wrung - wrung from my spirit like a rag twisted dry.  They will be drawn out of me, dripping one cry after another from a broken soul, pleading, "Redeem!"

This is why I don't write music.  

I love...LOVE...worship.  I love singing worship songs, I love leading worship, I love humming to God's heart through music and lyrics.  But when I sit down to write,  I find myself scribbling things like, "God help me, sometimes I feel like I hate You.  Forgive me.  Please don't leave..."  

Try singing that on a Sunday morning.

I might have to accept that I will just never be a songwriter.  The songs of my soul can be gruesome, and they probably wouldn't go over so well with the happy crowds.  

But...

But God...

What is it about Him that makes me still want to sing even when I have no song?  How am I constantly humming because of Him when I have no tune?  How do I find Him smiling when I'm hurling questions like, "Are You even here at all?"  

After all of this, how do I hear Him still singing back: "I love you, too."  

Oh this restless love, unbearable grace.  If I could hide my heart from You, I'd run.  But You see each secret, hidden space.  You hear my whimpers of dying faith.  You wait - You patiently, patiently wait.  I'm not alone.  You're here...  

Still here...

You embarrass me with mercy, but I'm not too proud to take it.  My head hangs low; I can't look, only reach - You lift me til we're eye-to-eye.  I see...

I'm letting You be You, even though I'm still me.  Don't stop loving me.  I need You to keep loving me.  I want to love You, too.  More than me, I want to love just You.  Humiliated by compassion, this shame gets lost in Light.  Your unrelenting presence, my Faithful Love, tonight...



Good night & love, sweet Savior of mine...  



Monday, February 7, 2011

She Sings

It has been over 16 months with my favorite atheist, and I never thought I would see the day.  I NEVER thought I would see this day.  I wish I could share the loads of notes, conversations, meltdowns, pick-ups, breakdowns, pep-talks, clean-ups, body checks, kleenex boxes, and the "Me toos" of depression, hopelessness, despair and recovery.  I wish I could tell you how she hated God (who she also did not believe in); how she hated people, Christians, life and existence.  I wish I could tell you about every speck of redemptive light that patiently split the dark over the past year.  

But it is not my story to tell.  

My heart is bursting with songs of redemption, yet they are not mine to sing.  They are hers, and I will gladly let her sing them.  I will let her sing them, because...I never thought I would see the day...she is singing them.  

She is singing.  

My favorite atheist is an atheist no more.

She is singing the love of Jesus.

And I have the best seat in the house.