dualisms of heaven and earth

through the course of reading I stumbled upon this:

"the transparent person is filled with wisdom_the wisdom of Socrates, who knew that he knew nothing.
the transparent person is filled with goodness_the goodness of Christ, who said "Why callest thou me good? None is good save one, even God."
the transparent person is filled with power_the power of Paul, who said that the strength of Christ may rest upon me...when I am weak, then am I strong."

- Glenn Clark, Fishers of Men.

Human foresight...

One year ago I (Jeremy) remember telling my family and friends that I felt like I was approaching a precipice: college was over, I was leaving for the Peace Corps and I had to grow up quickly. I was sitting dumbfounded with my legs crossed and my back rapidly closing in on the vertical drop, which would soon lead me down a cascade of rapids and waterfalls_the unknown.

To say that I have grown more comfortable since then would be a lie. After all, I would have never guessed that Jamie and me would be married, that we would be leaving to do ministry in the Czech Republic and that the Pittsburgh Penguins would be in the Stanley Cup (not that these are bad).

The second to last day that Jamie and I will be here at Camp Willson has past, and I know that both of us are ready for our next transition. Yet, we are nervous. In a parallel pattern, I am again feeling the same anxiety from the unknown: this time it is to the Czech Republic. I guess the sitting cross-legged-going-over-a-waterfall thing might be a little bit too extreme, but I know that I am struggling to imagine. Jamie and I are certain that we have ideas and that the Lord has called us and our gifts to the ministry, but it has been so hard to focus. With all the work that needs to be done at Willson and with our daily responsibilities that seem never-ending, I feel that the mundane has dulled my sense that we are making a BIG change. In one day our time in Ohio will be officially over; however, it hasn't struck me yet. I will not be going back to Willson. The friends Jamie and I have made will now be faraway. No more kids. No more tiger salamander. No more Mac-o-chee. TIME FOR CHANGE.

Yet, this might be how God wants it. Anyone that lives a self-sacrificial life in the service of others might only have human foresight. Think about it: if Nelson Mandela really knew that he would spend thirty years in prison, would he have fought hard? Would Medgar Evers have fought for Blacks in Mississippi if he knew he would die with three young children? What about Mother Teresa? Jesus was the only one I can think of who had a hint of his real calling (sacrificial Love) and even he, when it was fully revealed to him, asked for the cup to be taken from him. Now, I am not saying that I am on any level near those wonderful disciples, but I do think there can be a connection: it's like a shot. If I know that the needle is coming to stick me in the arm, and I watch the tip enter my skin, I know that it will hurt. However, the doctor distracts me. While my mind wanders, the needle goes in with minimal pain.

Am I saying that God's work can be painful? Yes.

Giving your life for the Kingdom is much like faith. If we get caught on trying to rationally prove our faith through factual knowledge and scientific inquiry, then what are we really left believing? Where is faith? In the same vein, to chose a life's work or a passion based on the assured knowledge of what is to come lacks whole-hearted devotion (I am reminded the we must hold with both hands to the plow and not look back).

I feel that this is rambling and I am not making very much sense, but I will try to sum up my feelings in short sentences:

God's imagination for this ministry is greater than I could dream.
My foresight is dull and diluted.
Jamie and I must rest in the fact that we are the mediums, not the message.
I am always amazed how God uses imperfect beings to accomplish his holistic plan.
I hope we can be faithful.
A month and a half until we leave.....wow.
Jamie and I wish for acceptance.
Jamie is really creative.
We must be still in God's plan and know that it is for good.

We are blessed.

seeking truth through pain.

Jamie and I have been debating about whether the material on this blog should be relegated to just the Czech mission, or if it would be acceptable for us to post our thoughts and personal feelings for all to see. Well, we have decided that we need to post our feelings and thoughts, as they can be a small window into the type of people we are, which helps those who do not know us feel closer to our minds and emotions, even though Jamie and I are physically separated from many of you.

Here it goes:

Have you ever wondered whether this whole "mustard seed" that Jesus talks about in the New Testament can be seen and felt in your everyday life? I know that I do. But sometimes I think my perspective on the matter of the Kingdom coming and my idea of eschatology can be narrow. It is very easy for me to sit back and point to very tangible manifestations of the mustard seed when I am on a mission trip, or at a Christian camp, or in a great theology class where my understanding is challenged. But, I do struggle to see it at my house or even in my thoughts. Building homes for low income families, counseling forgotten teenagers, micro-lending for economic development, fighting for peace and being the ear for a lonely senior citizen relegated to a nursing home are all great, and I know that we all can see Christ in those acts and through the people those actions help. However, what about us being able to see the Kingdom growing through tragedy and violence?

Can we see the Kingdom in a hurricane that kills 200,000 people? Is Christ there when an African man is beaten because he voted the wrong way? What about sex trafficking?
Is the Kingdom present? Is Christ present?

I would have to say yes. Just as God was present for Daniel in captivity, so he can be in tragedy today, which brings me to today.

Jamie and I decided to take a nice spring bike ride across the Ohio country side. We had planned to rent a movie, so we decided to bike into town. It was a nice ride: the sun was shinning and there was a wispy breeze, just what we wanted. Renting the movie did not take very long, and because we had to get back to dinner, Jamie and I chose to turn back after only a few miles and head back into camp. As we entered the drive way and biked up about a quarter of a mile, we both were struck by a noise at the side of the road. It sounded very distinct and not the normal chatter we all hear from the spring birds. The sound was loud. Jamie had to point it out to me, as she saw it first. Gazing upon the ground, I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming feeling of happiness__we were both gazing at a baby raccoon.

We watched it for awhile and listened to it as it was making a kind of crying sound; I thought nothing of it. Jamie wanted to run and get her camera, so I stayed and inched my way closer to the little guy, making sure to keep my distance, yet, be intimate enough to really look at it. As I did this, it began to dawn on me that not all was well with our little friend. It must have fallen out of a tree at one point, because what looked like the wobbly steps of a baby, really turned out to be the pain of a paralyzing fall; the raccoon could not move its back legs. I heard the mother making a call back to her little baby, but she was high up in a tree overhead. Literally, my emotional spectrum shifted 360 degrees from elation at seeing new life, to dread at watching a young life snuffed out. Jamie and I could do nothing: "well, can't I pick it up and help it?" "Oh! The camp could make it into a pet for the children." "Maybe it isn't REALLY hurt."

I wanted to convince myself that nothing was wrong, that all was going to work out and that I had the answer to make this little animal's life better. Yet, with every agonizing cry it made, the more I became defeated. Ten minutes was enough for me. I had to leave. Jamie and I decided to grab our bikes and turn away on the raccoon. As we left, it was laying on the forest floor and was digging its head into the dead leaves from fall.

When people have attachments to animals I sometimes get angry. I mean, why do people seem to care more about a stray dog than a homeless man? The affection towards animals and the love towards a fellow human being are different for one main reason: Human beings have more intrinsic value than animals. I am not saying that I think it is OK for human beings to rape and pillage the earth, which is what we have been doing for quite some time. No, I am talking about Biblical stewardship. Human beings are to cultivate God's creation, bring it into its most glorious form. However, after today, I can see how people are attached to their pets or to an animal they live to protect.

The pain of watching the raccoon suffer overwhelmed me for sure, but I am not convinced that what I was seeing was a bad thing. I knew the entire time that my attempts to help the animal would be in vain and were completely "irrational"; yet, I cared so deeply that I knew I had to at least entertain the thought. At this point, is where I believe I saw the mustard seed today. Not in the suffering of a tiny raccoon, but in the true emotion that overwhelmed me.

Yes, the world is fallen, but it is very far from being chaotic. Some might look at the innocent death of a child or the painful death of a baby raccoon as sure-fire reasons as to why God can't be at work here on earth, but they might only see the dark. Is it not through suffering that Christ is present? Does Christ not work through broken vessels? Vessels are human beings and suffering is the world; God works through both. We are all broken; we all have problems and we all fall short. The world is violent and ruthless, but at the same time both are great vehicles for us to see beauty. Death and destruction are away from God, but our hope is light. I am not saying it is OK to ignore destruction; we must mourn; we must hurt; we must get angry; yet, we can't have happiness without some sadness, and we can't have beauty unless we know that which is ugly.

The raccoon will die. The vividness of my emotional clarity watching the raccoon suffer will surely dull, but I know that I had a true genuine urge to help restore, not to hurt. Maybe this is what Christ hopes for all of us to do? The feelings of restoration are the catalyst for the mustard seed. I hope I might be able to see it more often in my own thinking. What is left now, is whether I can feel the same for people.

Radost

Radost is the Czech word for joy.

After much deliberation as to what we might title our blog, we finally settled to do the heavily-cliched, yet, at times, very enlightening "foreign-avant garde-neointellectual" route. Consequently, our blog title might be what some call "weird."

Love is maligned everyday: are we really going to say that we "love our pizza," or that "we love Sylvester Stallone" and then twenty minutes later use that same word, love, to talk about our spouse or our children? Shouldn't love mean more? Perhaps there are those who realize that the use of love in common conversation is like a four-letter cuss on the latest rap album, and that, as a people, we might be short-changing its true meaning. But, how many are out there?

We Christians claim to have a real understanding of "loves" deepest meanings, its most tangible manifestations and its apotheosis, but somehow we find ourselves falling short. Offense should be the first emotion that runs through our veins when we Christians hear love cheapened; it needs to be exalted to our languages highest levels__it isn't.

Sorry Love, I would love to make it better for you, but my love is just too fleeting to try.

Much Love,
Jeremy.


Joy is another word that gets backhanded alot.

Do we really understand the true meaning of Joy? I know that Jamie and I struggle to grasp its complexity and depth: don't we feel joyous when we eat a delicious meat loaf that our moms baked? Can't joy be found when we finally find our way on the road after having been lost, for two hours, in an unfamiliar place. I know that I personally feel "joyous" when the Pittsburgh Penguins score a thunderous goal from a slap shot 40 feet from the net. However, we cannot help but wonder whether joy, much like love, is just the tip of the hidden truth. Maybe the words joy and love are sad attempts by humans to describe a spiritual connectedness that can't be proven through rationalism or scientific inquiry. Wouldn't joy and love be boring if we could prove their root?

Love and joy, by the way, are the first two mentioned in the"fruit of the spirit", which gives us an indication of their importance, not only for contemporary thinkers (like us), but for the apostle Paul. The Fruit of the Spirit is the character traits straight from God himself. They are an indication of the emotional and spiritual maturity of man and the proof of the tangible work of God through man. I guess this is what Jesus means when he calls for a Joy so powerful that it makes believers want to shout from the mountain tops and proclaim the Kingdom is coming. In contrast to our worldly definition of joy, the "fruit-of-the-spirit Joy is not shallow. Just as I might think I have experienced true joy by watching the Pens score on a power play, I can just as quickly lose that euphoric feeling if the Philadelphia Flyers were to answer back. Doesn't this kind of joy remind us of fickle human love?

We really should celebrate that the true examples of Joy and love, the most pure, are long lasting. Christ and Joy are forever, even if times get hard. So, in that vein, Jamie and I have started this blog and we have called it Radost. I guess we could have picked any language to showcase as our title, but Czech fits; after all, I assume many are reading this blog to catch up with our lives, as we are living in Policka, Czech Republic. There are going to be days and months where our human joy and our human love for both each other and for the community will be tested and stretched. There will be instances where loneliness and insecurities fill vacuums. There might be whole weeks where Jamie and I feel like we're going to quit; but, we hope that through this blog and through this international community, that Joy and Love, in their deepest and rawest sense will be seen not through our work, but through everyone who is supporting us: from grandparents to teachers, coworkers to parents and from brothers to strangers.


So please, come and join our radost.