Broken isn't beautiful

Last night I saw Les Misérables for the second time. It is my favorite book, my favorite musical, and this recent movie version is almost certainly on my list of favorite movies. It would be easy for me to turn this into a post made of pure fangirl, but luckily Les Mis is so good that it inevitably lends itself to deeper thought.

Seeing it again offered some clarity on an idea that's been milling around in my head for a while now, the title of this post: broken isn't beautiful.

Some people may take offense at this, and I mean absolutely no disrespect to those who have experienced hardship and horror in their lives. I don't want to minimize the pain people go through or the strength it takes to overcome it. But that's my point -- it's not the pain and horror itself that makes things beautiful. It's the fact that we do overcome it. The beauty comes in healing, salvation, and light. The problem is I think some people, even Christians, tend to glorify brokenness.

But don't we have to learn from mistakes? Doesn't overcoming hardship make us stronger? Aren't some of the most admirable people in the world those who have gone through trauma and pain, only to come out the other side better and stronger?

 I do believe so. But I think we tend to concentrate on these actions because we don't know what true beauty looks like. This world is a cracked mirror. What we see can never be the same as that which is true. If we knew what real beauty looked like, truth and goodness untainted by this world's darkness, would we try to hold up our brokenness as the better thing?

But we do have flaws. There is evil at work, and it has left scars. However, scars exist because wounds have been healed. Though there is pain, we don't need to despair.

And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. -- 2 Corinthians 12:9, NKJV

We don't boast in our infirmities because they're infirmities. We boast in them because they are opportunities to let Christ shine through us. Thus, the boast is not for us and the evil that has affected us. It's for Christ.

Les Misérables means "the miserable ones." It's a story of darkness at war in human history, taking lives, wrecking families, oppressing nations. Still, I believe it is the most beautiful story I've ever heard. Why? Because we are shown light wins out over darkness. God's goodness saves. It takes a thief and a desperate man and turns him into a bastion of righteousness for others. The marks of a thief are still there, but they serve not to define the man, but contrast who he has become.

But by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain; but I labored more abundantly than they all, yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. -- 1 Corinthians 15:10, NKJV

Judging you

For me, the theme for this past year at Taylor has been "this place is not perfect." I'm one of those people who will gush about our intentional community and servant leadership, but this does not stop the cracks from showing. Though Taylor University for me has been a haven and wellspring of Christian fellowship, I'm learning more and more that this isn't the case for everybody. People have been hurt. Some feel isolated or unwelcome, judged.

Not all Christians act like Christians. But if everyone at Taylor were perfect, complete with perfect administration and academic systems, everyone would be happy all the time, right?

Actually, no. Because there are people who, no matter how worshipful the worship or kind the leaders or amicable the students, do not want to be part of it. And there are people who are hurt and don't know how to enter into the Body. These problems need to be addressed with love and prayer.

And then there are people who give out judgments like candy on a parade, and their counterparts: people who complain about how everybody judges everybody. These also need to be addressed with love and prayer -- and, I think, in the spirit of love, just a little mockery, too.

It's okay, I'm going to start by mocking myself. The following are just a few judgments I make on a regular basis and the things that instigate them.

Crowd screams for someone making an announcement during chapel.
Judgment: Yeah, okay, they're from your wing. Shut up already.

Someone I know makes an announcement during chapel.
Judgment: Whoohoo!!! This is worth getting excited over!

Loud male voices are heard outside.
Judgment: Broho boys are up to something... 

Person whooshes past on a longboard.
Judgment: Insta-cool points. You appear to be a free-spirited individual who cares not for the social constraint of having to actually walk with people.

Pants are purposefully worn to show underwear and belted so they stay that way.  
Judgment: Obviously you don't know the purpose of pants or how to wear them.

Combination of the previous two.
Judgment: ..... I no longer know what to think of you.

These things probably say more about me than I know. Are any of these assessments in any way justifiable? Am I the problem at Taylor?  Do we make up more problems than actually exist?

My point? Love people. Don't assume too much. And don't neglect to notice when you're the one doing the judging.

Life Verse

I'm going to admit something that may shock and nauseate the majority of people reading this blog. I say this to warn you, and prepare you for an explanation. However, it doesn't change the facts. It's my fault, and it's really pretty stupid: I don't like Jeremiah 29:11.

Everybody has their little peculiar vexations. Some of mine: personality tests (except Meyers-Briggs) always drive me nuts. I get inordinately irritated when people don't label their axes on graphs. I hate when songs repeat the word "yeah." I loathe being called "cute" because it feels patronizing (I know it's not, and I'm learning to smile and move on.) Pretty much all of these irritations are irrational, and the amount of aggravation they inflict is disproportional to the weight of the crime ("Don't they realize that this graph is useless without labels? This is meaningless! This person needs to die!").

Most of the time I can laugh and move on. Sometimes, though, I'll recognize that the irritation hints at a deeper character flaw or results in a worse problem than irritation. One of these is related to what I daresay is my only hipsterish tendency (though I'm not criticizing hipsters [here]): a distrust of things that are popular. Yes, this even affects how I feel about popular Bible verses.

Jeremiah 29:11 is stirring, beautiful, inspired scripture. And everybody likes it. This should not be sufficient reason for me to wrinkle my nose when people talk about it (or John 3:16, or Proverbs 3:5-6). There are some popular ones that mean enough to me to counterbalance this, but it doesn't fix everything.

With this ridiculous tendency comes one that's a little more wholesome: an interest in scripture that's not often quoted. I'll be the first to admit I don't memorize as much scripture as I should, but I do love to read it and find things I've never noticed before. I'm ever becoming more convicted that the bits that don't make obvious fodder for evangelism can transform people's lives.

Consider Matthew 10:22. "And you will be hated by all for My name's sake. But he who endures to the end will be saved." In church today, our pastor spoke on following Christ, listening, and letting it be transforming in our lives.This means difficulty. This means that verses like Jeremiah 29:11 as well as Matthew 10:22 should be abundantly meaningful.

There are Pollyanna moments, and then there are Ecclesiastes moments. There is reason to cherish and apply every scripture. (And now I've got to make sure I act on my own words.)

Truth in Dr. Horrible

After watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog for the first time, I sat for several minutes, trying to absorb everything and saying things like "That was really weird.... I don't understand..." A few years and a couple re-watchings later, I can identify the parts that make it a story I love as well as one that leaves me unsatisfied. And I think that's the point.

It's about a man who, disillusioned with the appearance of "good" in the world, has decided the best way to fix things is to become an evil genius. The problem is that he's got too much good inside of him. He falls in love with a girl who helps the homeless. He won't have an evil showdown with someone in a park, because there might be kids there (also, because Johnny Snow isn't actually his nemesis.) His real hatred is concentrated on the face of "good" that only masks a bully. By the end of the story, we're left wondering who's really the hero (if there is one), what constitutes good and evil, and whether people can actually do anything about it.

My favorite song in the show is called My Eyes/On the Rise. It shows the world through the viewpoints of Billy, also known as Dr. Horrible, and Penny, the girl of his dreams. To him, everything is crashing to the ground. To her, it looks like the world might finally be changing for the better. Neither of them are right.

What am I getting at? The story is meant to leave people hanging. There's not a happy ending, though you could say that Dr. Horrible got everything he wanted. I think the point at which the story turns for me, where a lot of the conflict lives, is in that song. Some people see good everywhere. Some people see evil everywhere. But people accomplishing both good and evil live alongside each other. Sometimes they're mistaken about which side they're actually serving, maybe because they don't fully understand the world.

There are so many viewpoints and so many arguments that some call what is good, evil, and what is evil, good, and can get away with it. Perceptions of truth are so warped that people can't see what's actually happening. They're blinded by ambition, or a mission, or even love.

Dr. Horrible, in a humorous way, calls attention to some of these things. There's not an intended Christian message, but I think the story can give Christians a lot to think about. We believe in good and truth. Why can't others see it around them? It's a broken world. Lots of evil has been done trying to fix it. What can we do about it? Since we claim to serve good, let's do good. Let's give reason for hope. And let's stick close to truth, or we may find ourselves pursuing something lesser.

Two Voices

Most people know me to be a cheerful and whimsical person. I'm the kind of girl who gets a Happy Meal at McDonald's and plays with the Hello Kitty toy. I sometimes skip instead of walking. I splash in puddles, crunch leaves, and generally enjoy the small things in life.

However, some few know the other side of me -- the one that's analytical and critical. This can be useful, and it's often how I approach problem solving and try to improve myself. The problem is that it has a tendency to manifest in the form of complaints and judgments. Projecting both voices onto my surroundings can leave me stuck between convictions. I'm still trying to decide if the exercise is useful.

Turning these voices loose on Taylor University results in conversations/impressions like this:

All the wonderful people everywhere!
Those couple of people that set off the "rage" trigger in my brain, maybe because they're contrasted against all the wonderful people.

So many ways to get involved in the community, resulting in fun and meaningful service!
Many possibilities for getting bogged down with responsibilities and others' expectations. Can you really give yourself to everything?

Late night conversations and movies with friends.
Time you really should spend doing something useful with your life. Like, weren't you supposed to be finishing your story?

A tight-knit community with potential for wonderful relationships.
A place where some still find judgement and nowhere to turn.

There are so many ways to learn about God and find growth.
But are you depending on your surroundings to grow your spiritual life?

I love learning!
You're not going to be in a classroom the rest of your life, at least not literally. Try harder.

There's so much beauty everywhere.
Are you appreciating it, or cultivating it?

Though at the outset the first voice seems largely superior (or at least happier), it gives many observations that aren't inherently useful. It needs to be tempered by the second voice. The thing I want to keep in mind is that the two voices don't have to be in opposition. They can work together. And when they actually do, I accomplish the things I consider most worthy. When they don't, I feel like I'm chipping at some stone block that refuses to be shaped.

Lately, I've been spending lots of time trading in granite dust. I think it's time to get down to the actual sculpture. I love Taylor, though I can see many cons among the pros. All I can do is try to make something beautiful, anyway.

Deadlines, Commitments, Black Holes, and Superpowers

In the last week, I've had the dawning realization that I will not make the deadline for my novel.

Pretty much what I have left is to write four-ish chapters, fix some local plot problems, go over nine or ten chapters with minor revising, and polish, putting small threads in place. I've received feedback from some fellow writers that looks very helpful, but I haven't had time to put it into action.

However, I only have five days. And on each of those days, I'll be spending almost my entire evening in the theater. Taylor University's production of Godspell opens on my birthday, my deadline date, and there were enough holes to fill in voluntary positions that I felt I needed to help. I may be able to write during the day, but with homework, classes, work, and a laptop that can't move from my desk (it's a long story), I'm not going to have the time I need to get it done, despite the deadline rush. I haven't even had time to research and pick an editor at Tor.

I'm bummed, yes. Part of me says I could have spent more time on it before, could have pushed harder. I certainly could have. But when I push too hard with my writing, I burn out. I know because I did. Other time problems were due to circumstances out of my control. Whether or not I could be in better shape right now, there's not much I can do. Maybe I'll find the gumption within me and the time around me to pull this off, after all. I'm just not pinning my hopes on it.

I've been thinking about commitments and responsibility a lot lately. I have a hard time saying no when people need help getting things done, no matter if it's something I really want to do or not. Most of the time in the theater, I do want to help. Working with props (and other technical aspects) in the theater satisfies my need for creative projects, contributions to a larger goal, not to mention my love for the plays themselves. I like the interaction with other departments. I like the steady progress.

However, it's hard to deny that theater can be a soul-consuming, time-sucking black hole.

Combined with the regular aspects of life -- friends, spiritual development, my position of authority in my dorm, the aforementioned classes and ensuing homework, and a currently unsatisfied need for PEACE and QUIET and TIME WITH GOD, I'm wondering what to do with all the things I want to do. (If only my superhero altar ego had the ability to manipulate time.) My community overflows with ways to get involved, volunteer, lead. Sometimes, my mind and heart have a hard time deciding which of those I should be doing -- even arguing that they're more important than some of the things I already do.

However, one of my superpowers is being a dedicated worker. There's a part of my mind looking at the week ahead, rolling up its sleeves, and deciding how much sleep I can do without. And more than that, I have a God for whom having superpowers is an understatement. He can use these deadlines, black holes, and commitments to accomplish his purposes. I just have to try to align mine with his.

Wish me luck -- or, since I'll be in the theater, a couple of broken legs.

Slow Development

I think lots of "ordinary" Christians secretly wish they had a really cool testimony. The stories where a person is brought from the brink of hell-breathed fiery destruction, or saved from danger and certain death, or given a new chance at life after a long, heart-wrenching struggle -- well, they stay with people. They inspire. They testify to the power of God.

Still, the rest of us really don't need to envy them.

When we really think about it, quiet testimonies like "I gave my heart to Jesus Christ when I was 12. I've been following him ever since," are a blessed, beautiful thing. In some ways they have as much power as miracles. In retrospect, you find many circumstances that were, in fact, miracles. I've realized that a lot lately about my life.

At very few points in my life did I notice a miracle in the works, big changes in my relationship with God. Most of the time, I couldn't see God slowly shaping my heart. (It's still a work in progress.) Only when looking back can I see how my slow growth is being made into its own unique story, complete with real angels, demons, and heroes, though at no point have I been close to dying. On the outside, no circumstance appears to be extraordinary. My path doesn't look like it's been fraught with pitfalls and snares. Now I know they're there, but I'm grateful that God's so far let me move at a slow pace on a relatively sheltered path. It's given me time to look back.

That low time in my life where I was slowly brought up? A miracle. The way I've been shaped by my surroundings? A blessing. The parts where I thought I was in control? Near brushes with disaster. There are lots of little stories about all the stops on my road. I think they'll slowly find their way here to the blog or find other outlets. They're missing the fire and brimstone, but the important element is still there: God's saving power.

At this rate, I'll be a perfect Christian about 500 years after I die. God bless us tortoises.