Revolution

Till We Have Faces: Part II

Now, that’s a fire…

In my last entry of this series, I did my best to establish the fact that this world is not our home. And yet we often treat it as such. Our lives and our minds are obsessed with catering to the masses – we want to fit in. In the name of love, too many have begun to subdue and suppress truth, falling in with the ranks of the post-modernist thinkers who march their followers – blind leading blind – directly into mire, confusion, despair, and the grave.

As a race we like to think ourselves deep; somehow enlightened. The truth is that we hide how little we know; how little we are; how unable we are to change even the smallest details of our lives. Vulnerability is shrouded in a guise of evil - we are taught from very infancy to be strong, independent, self-satisfying and self-fulfilling. And as Christians, we too often play the role of polite politicians, toying with band-aid solutions to the world's gaping wounds. Enamoured with "reality" and "relevance", we close our eyes and pretend not to see as our world turns its back on the only truth that really changes lives, busying itself with the invention of the "truth" that it wants to believe.

Post-modernism is the bane of Christianity today – it distorts minds and even reasonable logic. And even as its evils are declared, they are invading the church as well. Just the other day I picked up a copy of Relevant – a Christian magazine bearing proudly the motto: God. Life. Progressive Culture. It had been displayed prominently in my local Walmart Superstore, and, in search of a breath of fresh air, I picked up my dad’s copy late one night after the conclusion of an interesting day. Within its covers I found an article with the rather intriguing title… “Is Underoath Losing Their Religion?”
Mildly interested in the band name and title, I skimmed to page 73.

‘The six members of Underoath…sing about Jesus, have a fanbase consisting largely of Christians and often play Christian venues. But they’re so over the whole church thing. “We aren’t trying to convince people to be the way we are,” Chamberlain says. “We are just saying that if you want to know about it, we’ll tell you about it. If you don’t, we’re glad you’re still here having fun with us. We are just normal people playing music… On and off the stage, this is how we are.”’

Ah, my friends, what a price we have paid for relevance. Those who could make a difference because of their tremendous influence in secular culture (Underoath is a banner band for good hardcore music, in case you didn’t know) – are now encouraging disunity and apathy.

What happened to fellowship?

What happened to ‘brothers living together in harmony’?

For that matter – what of the power of God for salvation: the Gospel itself? What could possibly be more relevant to a dying world? What is more relevant than the powerful Gospel? What more necessary to lost hearts than the blazing sword of His powerful Word? Where are our Davids? Our Esthers? Our Gideons; our Peters and Pauls? David – called by God as a man after His own heart and instrument of His Word, whose seed and lineage brought us our Savior? Our Esthers – who saved her people from complete destruction, risking all for what she knew to be right? Is this not our time, as it was hers? I hope I am always willing to risk everything for truth and my Lord! Gideon – whose mere hundreds destroyed thousands upon thousands at the Lord’s bidding. Peter – whose words echo throughout the ages and by whose ministry our Lord’s church was founded. Paul – whose missionary travels and bold proclamations of Christ and Him crucified rang throughout the world, turning it upside down until his own martyrdom? What of Stephen; of Timothy; of John? What of those worldwide who daily sacrifice their lives for the sake of the cross?

What of our Lord himself?

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make them free…
His truth is marching on.

We must stop and think - is this the light we are called to bear forth in the darkness? This is not salt in the world… this is salt in an already gaping wound. To each his own truth? My brothers, this should not be.

Revelation 2:3 You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.

Every Sunday morning now I roll out of bed – or, from my lofty perch, absentmindedly climb forth – and greet the day with a cup of black coffee and an 8:30 ETS class (Equipped to Serve – isn’t that great!) on Doctrinal Distinctives and Controversial Issues within the church. Our latest focus was on the topic of assurance, leading to us to the doctrinal goldmine that is the book of 1st John. 2:15 ‘Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world – the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does – comes not from the Father but from the world. The world and its desires pass away, but the man who does the will of God lives forever.’

False assurance figures strongly with love for the world. The love this passage speaks of is not the same sacrificial, Christ-like love I have mentioned before, but rather a base lust, a craving after sin and the temptation the world offers rather than the hope that only can satisfy. This is serious. We cannot look and act like the world if the truth really is in us. Have we forgotten who we are in Christ? He makes all things new. This is a war – not of flesh and blood, but a battle for precious souls.

More and more my thoughts tend towards revolution.

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Jeremiah Sara Groves

Jeremiah, tell me about the fire
That burns up in your bones
I want to know, I want to know more now
The burning of ambition and desire
Never could come close to that fire –
To that fire

I was looking to myself
And I forgot the power of God
I was standing with a sparkler in my hand
I stood so proud and profound
You came and burned the whole place down
Now, that’s a fire

I was caught up in this vice
And its power to entice
I was dwelling on hopelessness and doubt
With the slightest invitationYou came with total detonation
Now that’s a fire

I was warming my hands by this little light of mine
But now I know, I know it’s time
To come in from the cold
Fight fire with fire, come fan the flame
Stir up these coals in my soul, my soul
Till it burns out of control…

Jeremiah, tell me about the fire
That burns up in your bones
I want to know, I want to know more now

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine....
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What can I say? I have been kindled.

Peace

A short break...

He is my Light and my Salvation
Whom have I to fear?
In His secret place i'll hide and pray that i might hear
a simple word...

Oh, how I would have despaired if
You had not come found me there
I can lean against Your throne and find my Peace
find my Peace

And when my enemies draw near
I pray that they will find
That I'm protected and secure
All tempests He will bind with a mighty word

Oh, how I would have despaired if
You had not come found me there
I can lean against Your throne and find my peace
Find my peace

- Jennifer Knapp
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Psalm 27

The Lord is my light and my salvation -
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life -
of whom shall I be afraid?
When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.
Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then I will be confident.

One thing I ask of the Lord,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.
For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.
Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the Lord.

Hear my voice when I call, O Lord;
be merciful to me and answer me.
My heart says of you, "Seek his face!"
Your face, Lord, I will seek.
Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
O God my Savior.
Though my father and mother forsake me,
THe Lord will receive me.
Teach me your way, O Lord;
lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.
Do not turn me over to the desires of my foes;
for false witnesses rise up against me,
breathing out violence.

I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.

Those who sow in tears will reap in joy...

Till We Have Faces

Of holy fear, homesickness, and revolution.

I've contemplated long and hard on the title for this account - a summary of the lessons, trials, and triumphs of my late life. It speaks of a holy fear of God. It speaks of revolution. It speaks of my case before a holy God. It is the account of my joys and of my sorrows, my hopes and my doubts, my graces and my thorns. I don't know whom it may interest - I only know it must be written.

The hardest part is knowing where to begin.

The following is part of a series of thoughts under the grand title "Till We Have Faces". Although it is similar to the thoughts of others I have lately read, I believe I should like to share a few more words with you.

A deep breath before the plunge... and the journey begins.

Part I: Looking for Overland

'Men swear by something greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled totake hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf.

Hebrews 6:16-19a

There is a chest in the middle of my room, worn and well-used - and, from the looks of it - well-loved in its time. It sits right up next to my dresser and mirror, the place of much daily traffic and bustle and preparation. Though the place may somehow sound prominent, it's really not - half-hidden it lies behind my bedpost, submerged in half-light and a bit of mystery. Looking at its dented cover and rusted gold locks, the more alert imagination would conjure up in its past a good deal of mystery and a few well-kept secrets. I guess we'll never really know.

The chest inherited a few secrets of my own a week or so ago, when Tia lovingly carried it out from among her late findings and into my room, remembering the faint sparkle in my eye when first I saw it. After its unexpected arrival into my bedroom, I threw my arms around Tia's neck in a wondrous fury of excitement, spoke a few words of profuse thanks, and, gently closing the door behind me, I began to slowly pace the room, trying to choose wisely its new contents, and where it would be placed. Then, as suddenly, I pulled aside the closet curtain and (on my very tip-toes, for lack of height) I reached up for an old paper shoe box gathering dust on its top shelf.

As I removed the lid and began to peruse the contents of that one small box, memories flooded the forefront of my mind as each small artifact recalled someone dear; a moment I had loved. It's funny how striking and memorable an old school eraser can be. An old letter from my brother; an old picture from the summer camp that I dressed like Princess Leia. Old quotes from my wall, my "encouragement page" from the very first Caborca trip; pictures of old friends and new. An old ring from Preston; a bracelet from Stephanie. My old sixties shades; a page from one of my first "romance novels" - hand-written and yellowed with age. Deep in its depths lie a few more recent letters and notes; pictures of my "sisters" - a few poems and words of encouragement that - to this day - are emblazoned on my memory. Some of them are painful; some of them joyful - but all are tokens of grace.

Slowly I laid the box aside and let my mind fill with moments and stories, loves and losses of days bygone. As I reflect on the valleys and the heights that the Lord has led my family through, I cannot help but realize what an incredible life I have lived. Even as a young child, unaware of the blessings of faith and salvation - in my darkest hours of fear and of pain - I was always struck by the seemingly "coincidental" good luck my family has always had. We were always getting ourselves into scrapes; taking "adventures" and gallivanting off to new and exotic lands before I could offer up an "if-you-please" or some other common-sensical complaint. The amount of change we had subjected ourselves to couldn't have been quite safe. But, in the midst of it all, we never wanted for food and shelter; we never went without any good or necessary thing. Perhaps I didn't have all the grand playthings that my wealthy, stationary counterparts could boast - but my books and my imagination, my adventures and family were more than enough for me. Time and again, we left everything and started all over again, convinced of a call to missions and to the Lord. And somehow, every new home contained some new blessing. Somehow we were always taken care of; somehow - even in the strangest, most unbelievable circumstances. Call it luck; call it karma. I know it now as divine providence. I know it now as faithfulness.

In the years that have followed circumstances have changed, and I've grown accustomed to one home; one life; a stable sort of living. Change, after all, was never a neutral thing in my life; I was always fighting it - always feigning a battle that didn't need to be fought. The memories have not left me, though - I don't believe they ever will. Slowly I have become to realize that although it may be difficult - although everything within me battle to the contrary - perhaps living radically is the way we all should be. A friend of mine once said that all the trials and pain and change come to guard our souls from apathy. I believe him now as I never have before. And if this one humble life is the only chance I get, I believe I'd like to spend it searching for Overland. *

There are three reasons that this must be written; three reasons for you to keep reading; three points that I hope to make in the end. I want you to realize the need to live radically; the need to live heavenly-minded; and to daily remind ourselves of our Savior's great faithfulness.

*see Chronicles of Narnia: the Silver Chair

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Heavenly-Minded

In Chapter 5: Flag of the World in his Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton remarks on the oddities and the inconsistencies of those two peculiar gentlemen known as the optimist and the pessimist. Both of them (if their logic is examined carefully) believe in two entirely ridiculous things: either the world is as good as it could possibly be (other than the nasty pessimist who taints its surface), or, from the pessimist's point of view, the world is all bad (excepting, of course, himself). The optimist, according to his logic, paints all the world through the curious view of rose-colored spectacles, and is therefore a blatant liar. He will not wash the world clean of impurities, but will rather seek to whitewash it. The pessimist paints the world in black gloom and is a liar, too. It is only the man who loves the world without worldly reason that will be of any real use to it. The man who will improve the place is neither optimist nor pessimist; he follows after His Savior and loves, because He did first.

In his search for reason and truth, Chesterton began to realize that the Christian was, indeed, this man. Its martyrs talked of death with glee; they died that something else might live. Christ himself was their example. He had loved the world not because it was lovable, or even particularly comfortable; in fact, quite the contrary. But He took on our form and flesh and revolutionized the world with the simple weapon of love in action. We are unnatural here; but that is our glory.

But the important matter was this - that it entirely reversed the reason for optimism. And the instant the reversal was made it felt like the abrupt ease when a bone is put back into the socket. I had often called myself an optimist, to avoid the too evident blasphemy of pessimism. But all the optimism of the age had been false and disheartening for this reason - that it had always been trying to prove that we fit into the world. ... The modern philosopher had told me again and gain that I was in the right place, and I had felt depressed even in acquiescence. But I had heard that I was in the wrong place, and my soul sang for joy, like a bird in spring.

I knew now why grass had always seemed to me as queer as the green beard of a giant, and why I could feel homesick at home.

I've always been afraid of the unknown, above anything. Courage to move forward, to persevere even when I have no idea what the road ahead of me looks like - this is unnatural, unworldly courage. But I have found that courage is not an "inner strength", the conjuring of a healthy mind, or the blind faith of a foundering heart. Courage is merely a deepening and heightening of a founded faith in the God who is there; in the God who sees, supports, upholds, withstands, divines, understands, and knows. Think of Moses' deep trembling at the Lord's calling. Think of Jeremiah's cry - "I do not know how to speak; I am only a child." (Jeremiah 1:6) But these were only the beginnings of stories much beyond two simple men and their fear of the unknown. God used one simple man and his staff to free a nation from slavery and brought them through a very ocean. The fire and passion that so burned in Jeremiah was one unequalled by worldly ambition, lust, or desire. Our Lord cried - "Not my will, but Thine be done!" and now He stands in glory.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

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The Beauty of Grace and Faithfulness... and Our Lives in Light of That

Some trust in chariots, we trust in the name of the Lord our God

I have often wondered what faith really means. Far too often I feel like a foolish child venturing forth on a vicious sea armed with little more than an able imagination and the naive conjurings of a childish heart. And though I know He walks with me - everything within me will sometimes chant a different tune. I long - with every fibre of my being - to help others, to be one who lends aid in times of bitter need - but I cannot carry the weight of their needs and their burdens alone. And daily I take the weight of the world onto my own shoulders - a burden I should not carry, and do not have to. I continually - even subconsciously - add to my faith in Christ. No wonder I feel so alone! I must trust myself to all-sufficient grace.

His words echo across the millennia - "And surely I am with you always, even to the very end of the age..."

I have learned now that faith is only as good - only as strong - as the object on which it rests. And so often - even without noticing it (oh, the vileness of my own soul!) - I add to Christ. My faith is in the Lord... and in my own strength. My faith is in the Lord... and in my friends. In the Lord and in my own current happy circumstances. It is, then, no wonder that my heart falters! It is no wonder that I stumble and fall. Defeat is inevitable when Christ is not first. No - I shall venture more. When Christ is not all. When He is not everything.

After years of switching and changing and instability in my discipleship group, have finally settled down with my own small group of girls, and tonight we began our first real Bible study. IN fact, it's the first discipleship Bible study I've had since eighth grade junior high! How I have longed for it - and today it finally began. Colossians 1:1-8 was our starting point - verses that I had only just finished memorizing a month or so before. Time and again I had read these eight verses - even as I read them our corny-but-catchy little tunes that we set to help us remember them figure prominently in my memory. But the words have sudden new meaning, and as my mind struggles to understand them, I realize how similar was the plight of the Colossians to ours today. Once a strong church, they had become surrounded by both legalists and hedonists; false teachers adding to Christ. And although at first glance it may seem no more than a lengthy introduction, Paul seeks in these first verses to remind them where they've come from. He urges them to remember the all-sufficiency of the "word of truth"; to remember that theirs is a simple faith in an all-encompassing Savior... and that they should live accordingly.

We always thank God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, when we pray for you, because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints - the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel that has come to you.
Colossians 1:3-6a

When this faith is lived out, it should look different. We should not be as we were before. There should be a marked change in us. As 1 John so wisely states - Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue, but with action and in truth. With action! To keep this incredible salvation and faith that brings lasting peace amongst ourselves would be a vital mistake. Let us love our world with the love that Christ gives; let us keep our faith in Him; and let us live radically because of the radical change in our hearts.

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To Conclude

Jill Carratini, in a recent "Slice of Infinity" says this ...

In a world where faith is defined as foolish and irrelevant, the definition of faith in Scripture stands by the better country - even if it at times eludes us. Like Abraham who looked for the city of foundations... we are strangers on earth, setting out to spend our lives looking for a country of our own. It is by this depth of certainty that Abraham lived and died, knowing that the small family he could gather together in his final days would yet one day outshine the starry sky. The one who promised is faithful, and He is the builder of the city we seek. Let us therefore hold onto the hope we profess, looking for Overland, for the city with foundations, the city of the living God. It is his story of starry skies and Promised Lands and unseen things above; and it is a story we love to tell.

As Paul describes the heroes of our faith in Hebrews 11, he says this -

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things snow that they are lookng for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Now there's Bible authority for you.

Oh, that these verses might describe my life! I have often wondered what might be said about me when my days on this earth are complete and I reach my new, my better home. I can only hope that it might be said that I was longing for a better country - a heavenly one.

To this end I hope and towards it I run, looking for Overland.

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So that night, not very long ago, I took a moment to thank the Lord for His faithfulness in the past; to put my future into His hands and trust Him with it. I quietly closed the box that night and laid it in the chest where it now sits until necessary for me to remember again. As I closed the chest and turned out the light, I was filled with a sense of regained purpose. I am not worthless. So often when life does not go as I had planned - when my efforts, my endeavours, show no fruit and I feel so useless - I have only to remember that Christ, my Savior sees; that I do not belong here. My love for this world and for its people is from the outside looking in - here, on the other side of something - beyond the realm of death and despair. It is a letdown of sorts - everything here now seems somehow trivial. And yet the hope that awaits beyond the borders of this dark country and the twilight zone of the mortal's grave surpasses all letdown and earthly sorrow. Therefore let us look for Overland together - so heavenly minded that we might be of radical earthly good - and let us never forget: we are not home yet.



The journey continues; the battle rages; onwards we march towards revolution.

Crashings

Currents rage and torrents roar
Could I have ever wandr'd more
Blindly led to valleys low -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

The pain, a fire within my flesh
Ashamed, I turn from all the rest
My voice cries out, to friend or foe -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

I am not heard; no answer comes
The darkness has me overcome
I ache for guidance; for overthrow -
The waters flow,
The waters flow.

Seek me! Hear! I call your name
Thy glory only to proclaim
Rent asunder, even so -
The waters flow,
The waters flow.

I lift my eyes up towards the hills
"Save me" - and my heart it fills
Beneath me strength I've never known -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

At once my feet are sudden firm
New strength in bones once lame; infirm
Lifted am I by love unknown
His rivers flow;
His rivers flow.

I dare not wander from your throne
I dare not seek where others sow
I dare not turn from what I know -
The waters flow,
The waters flow.

I cannot turn to right or left
I cannot dally here or there
I must not stray, for this I know -
The waters flow;
The waters flow.

Currents rage and torrents roar
I know my soul has never more
Searched and found; and I am free -
His strength in me,
His strength in me.

I boldly stand amidst his stream
The world has now no hold on me
I fear no danger, though waters flow
For hope I know;
Hope I know.

Surrounded by His love perfect
The truth yet reeling; but erect
My soul finds rest; no more to roam
I'm walking home,
I'm walking home.

- Hannah R. Paasch

Passing Through

This world does not belong to me;
Nor do I to it -
There's greater joy awaiting me
For which my soul is fit.
This world does not belong to me;
I'm only passing through
A peace unknown; a greater home
When earth is made anew.

No greater joy do I desire
My soul will pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height -
Where faith at last becometh sight.

I do not know what beauty great
Untold and undescribed;
I do not know heaven's delights -
Enthroned in bright eternal skies.
Human mind shall never fathom
The glory of that crown;
The brightness of the glassy sea
When heaven's bliss is found.
My mind's eye cannot see
What bliss awaiteth me;
But I know in whom I have believed -
His face - one day - I'll see.

No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith at last becometh sight.

Small else shall matter much to me
When before His throne I stand;
I'll care little of these griefs and pains
Before in earthly land.
I only hope that when it's done
When I at last shall rise -
Oh, may I be found faithful;
Worthy of His blessed prize.

No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith at last becometh sight.

Although the pain may now be great
Though the showers now be strong
The griefs that now encompass me
Shall not really last for long.
All my soul now searches for -
All my heart does seek
Fulfilled and satisfied I'll be
When that great Voice shall speak.
And consummation full shall be
When in His great grace I'll hear
The greeting that shall finish all -
'Well done, and enter here.'

No greater joy do I desire
My soul shall pass through flood and fire
Yet after valley there is the height
Where faith at last becometh sight.

This world does not belong to me;
I'm only passing through
May I be found, in Him, complete -
His judgment cometh soon.
This world does not belong to me;
And one day I'll be free
Of pain and tears, of griefs and fears
And I will meet my King.

No greater joy do I desire -
My soul shall pass both flood and fire
After the valley there is great height
Where faith - at last - becometh sight.

An Anchor for the Soul

Be still, my soul
The Lord is on your side
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain
Leave to your God
To order and provide -
In every change He faithful will remain
Be still, my soul
Your best, your heavenly friend
Through stormy ways leads to a joyful end.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense
But trust Him for His grace
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face

Be still, my soul
Your God will undertake
To guide the future as He has the past
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake
All now mysterious will be bright at last
Be still, my soul
For the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He walked below

So...

You fearful saints, fresh courage take
The clouds you so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessing on your head

Be still, my soul
Be still, my soul
Be still

-Anonymous hymn
2 verses from William Cowper


And the tears flow...

Waffles and Spaghetti

Mood ring, oh, mood ring...

The male mind is a peculiar place. I have often wondered about its dark secrets, and have desired to further search out its depths, in order that I might see if there is anything therein truly worth searching out. Just tonight five of us sat around a pool table (not actually playing, just sitting around it) - and somehow (don't ask me the exact details of the "how") the female mind came up. It always does. Somehow we are the ones that are considered strange and complex - by the males, of course, who do not (at times) understand us in the least. They've written so many books on us, trying to study us and find -at times create - a method to our madness... but we rarely stop and take a moment to make heads or tails out of our outspoken and unruly students themselves. What goes on up there, anyway? Why? As this aforementioned conversation came to a close, it was ended, as usual, with the theme song of mankind... Mood Rings by Relient K.

Mood ring, oh, mood ring, oh tell me, will you bring the key
To unlock this mystery
Of girls and their emotions
Play it back in slow motion so I
May understand the complex infrastructure known as the female mind.

Not too bad. It's a fair argument. After all, who knows, perhaps mood rings just might be the resolution to all of our differences and misunderstandings. However, if you've heard the rest of the song, I'm sure you're familiar with its all-too-catchy and often completely revolting lyrics...

Well first she's Jekyll, and then she's Hyde
At least she makes a lovely pair...

She's so pretty but she doesn't always act that way
Her mood's out swinging on the swingset almost every day...

I tell you. The things those men come up with. That's really not all that fair. ;)

As that last verse was sung, I heaved a rather exaggerated sigh, and - to no one in particular - mentioned that perhaps ladies might have a thing or two to say about things the other way around. The Mood Rings singer therefore challenged me to elaborate - as he is in the habit of doing - and so, as not to cop-out, I write this the very night of said engagement. Let it never be said that I do not complete my word or my duty. ;)

I have heard said - by someone far more experienced and learned in this subject than I - that men are like waffles, and women like spaghetti. At first thought, this seems utter nonsense... but there's quite a gold mine of truth to be had in that short statement. Yes, they're both carbohydrates (as those of us who have, at some point, walked in the Atkins way should know)... but they have a few key differences. Let me gather all my powers of reasoning and try to explain.

Women are, indeed, a bit like that interesting and very common Italian pasta dish - all mixed up and thrown together, and yet somehow all the ingredients combine to make a delicious dinner. Don't ask us how every piece of pasta got to its exact location on the plate. It just did. We think in connections, and daily fly the banner of the determined multi-tasker. Our thoughts about anything and everything are always combined, always spring-boarding, and never really fully decipherable from the rest. We are at once organizing everything, and nothing.

I need an example. Hold on for a moment while I search around for something to better illustrate my meaning.

Alright. Being a girl, this wasn't too difficult. Observe the inner workings of that complex infrastructure for a moment.

Hmmm... I just took a quick glance into my clean, organized closet. Seeing it reminded me of Tia, who recently cleaned it for me. Tia's in the room right next to me. Thinking of Tia made me think of my plans with Tia tomorrow, and how we need to get a ride to Pan de Vida, our hispanic mission. My mind then branches (ah, the joys of springboarding) and at once I'm thinking of every possible ride-giver in the Valley, and also of the Canadian missionaries staying in my aunt's house, preventing Tia staying there any longer, and moving her into the room next to me. My mind then begins to organize tomorrow's schedule, with a ride-giver chosen from among the many. Do the Canadian missionaries need breakfast? Do they need a ride? Who could give them a ride? Who has a van? Two of my Spanish class students have vans that size. Spanish! Oh goodness, I need to finish that flyer for next semester! I wonder if those students will be taking classes again! I need my dad's computer to finish that flyer. Where is my dad? Is he still at work? Do I need to call him? While I call him, should I call my ride for Pan de Vida and the missionaries' ride? Where's my phone? Did I leave that at my friend's house? I wonder what she's doing right now, I should really give her a call....

And on, and on, and on it goes. There's really no end. And that's just a closet, an inanimate object, and really not very exciting - as objects go.

You see? Spaghetti!

Now we come to the confusing part.

Men, I've heard, are more like waffles. Their lives are considerably more compartmentalized, and they like it that way. It keeps things simple and understandable. As they go through each day, their mind slowly moves from box to box... and when they leave the box, all of its contents remain therein. I've even heard that there's a box with nothing in it. When guys are just sitting, doing nothing, they're in the empty box. We wish they would be thoughtful and help with the dishes... but they're not trying to be unthoughtful, they're just not in "thoughtful help" box right now. You see? They're so complex to us, in their very incomplexity!!! As women, we see someone sitting, staring off into proverbial space, and we want to know...

What's wrong? Did I do something? What's he thinking about? Maybe I can help him!! I'll just have him tell me. He won't tell me. He says nothing. He says he isn't thinking about anything! He's hiding something. He's hiding something and he doesn't want to tell me. What could it be? I did do something wrong, didn't I? Oh gosh. What now? Is this where the relationship ends? We can't be secretive like this... we just can't. He won't talk. He has nothing at all to say to me. What a jerk!!!!!!

Off storms the girl, bitter and pained... and there sits the guy, trying to understand why in the world she's gone off to cry now when he didn't say anything.

The beautiful thing about it is this, though... things don't have to stay that way. We don't have to misunderstand each other forever. God made our minds differently, in order that they might complement each other all the better. Now, perhaps I wouldn't eat waffles and spaghetti together and be much impressed with the ensuing stomach ache (or gained pounds!!!)... but the sovereign Creator's design for men and women is, indeed, an awesome and praiseworthy thing. There's a reason for that diverting little feeling in the pit of your stomach that the world commonly calls chemistry. There's a reason why a little girl loves spending time with her father.
There's a reason why there's two kinds of us.

Let us not forget.

As girls, we always want to be talking. We like constant and meaningful communication. (I know, because I've been there, am in the process of being there, and will probably be "there" in the future.) We want to say what's on our mind, and we want that significant him to understand. We want him to listen. We want to be comforted. We don't want to just tell him; we want him to ask us what we're thinking about and why. We don't always want him to do something proactive about fixing said problem, necessarily... but somehow the problem is made so much better just by knowing that he listened; that he understood. That he cared.

Men are, by nature, leaders. This is how they were made by a very wise and sovereign Creator. And so, I'm told, they do want to fix things. They want to take the lead. Perhaps - with all of our multi-task thinking, we have a great idea for the way things should be, or shouldn't be. And, programmed to be helpmates as we are, we think that the leader ought to know our revolutionary idea. (!!!!) But, my friends, this is not always prudent or helpful. In our desire to be so, we can sometimes detract from their role and depreciate their leadership. Sometimes a helpmate must just sit back and listen and trust. A hard lesson learned - but absolutely invaluable in its application.

Genesis 2:18 The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."

Catch that? Suitable!! According to good old Merriam-Webster, suitable means 'having the required skills for... performance'. Synonyms: competent, able, qualified... good. God's plan is good. His creation, His design, and our differences are good.

There's a lot more I could say, but this is what I'm left with: God's plan, His creation, His design, and our differences are good. We are all sinners... misunderstandings and conflict and pain will come. But, with God's great grace, I am committed to going beyond. I don't want to stay there. It will be an adventure - but I want to love my brothers in Christ as Christ Himself would, looking past these little differences and marvelling in two things: our common salvation, and the separate, beautiful, complementary roles that God has created for us.
I don't know about you, but I love mine.

Let us commit to this together. Let us seek strong, God-centered relationships together. This is God's heart for us... and herein, I believe, is much blessing and great hope. Let us spur each other on to love and good deeds! Let us not lose sight of our great salvation; here is a bond we share that cannot be broken. And let us seek the help of Him who made us both, in His infinite wisdom and to the praise of His glory.

Forget mood rings. Forget waffles and spaghetti; boxes and pasta; conflict and hurt and all that they bring. Let us not gaze at each other, in desire or in bitterness... but let us strive for our Savior and for His glory together.


This is what we were made for.

Colossians 3:5-11

Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming. You used to walk in these ways in the life you once lived. But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have put off the old self with its desires and practices, and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. (!) Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, [waffles or spaghetti], barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all and is in all.

Colossians 3:5-11 *additions mine
HEV (Hannah's Elongated Version)

*All references to waffles and spaghetti come from Bill and Pam Farrel's very informative volume on these two food groups.




Here it comes, a beautiful collision...