Amy’s Marginalia: A Million Little Pieces

James Frey’s had a rough life.  As a drug addict, he messed up his health, his friendships, and his criminal record before landing in an intensive rehab program.  He wrote a fictionalized account of his story, attempted to sell the book, and couldn’t find any publishers (boy do I know that story).  Then, he sold it as memoir, and suddenly, he’s on Oprah and selling millions of copies.  Eventually, word gets out that it’s not a true story, and Oprah reams him out on the show.  Who wants to be reamed out by Oprah?  She white gloves everybody. 

You might remember the headlines when this was going on a couple years ago.  He’s been badmouthed and abused by every journalist and tv talkshow host around.

So when I said I wanted to read his book for one of my book groups, the ladies all looked at me like I was loco.  “Wasn’t that fake?” They asked. 

“Yes, along with every other novel we’ve read,” I thought. 

In a world where truth gets thrown around a lot as something so perception based and individualized, it’s a marvel to me that people get so upset at this guy for not telling the “truth.” 

When I read a memoir, I expect there to be fabrications, even if the writer swears up and down that it’s the “truth.”  It’s not that I’m cynical, well, maybe a bit.  I just happen to be #1 fallen human being along with the rest of humanity and #2 a writer.  Those two things make me know that memories fade, names get changed to protect the innocent, writers get revenge in creative ways, and life gets spiced up a little to create a coherent narrative.

Maybe the same people who blindly think every non-fiction account they read is “truth” also think “reality” TV actually depicts reality.  Don’t forget that during the recent screenwriter’s strike, reality shows suffered too.  It seems odd that unscripted life would need script writers.

So why should Christians care about fake memoirs and “true” life accounts?  I think they’re a great place to begin a discussion about the “Truth,” you  know, the one with a capital “T.”  The same people who claim there is no Truth are quick to denounce any apparent “untruths” in autobiography.  Does that seem disingenuous to you?

But there is a Truth we can know, personally, intimately.  His name is Jesus.  His word is Truth.  Test it. See what people for thousands of years have recognized.  His story is THE True story. 

Compared to him, the rest of us are all just liars.

Why Can’t My Idols be Minor Things?

Let me give you a little piece of advice.  Should you be a little behind on your blog reading, catching up on what I’ve been writing for the past couple weeks, and you get to last week’s questions on how to find your idols (this one), keep in mind that should you decide to go about that process, you might want to expect a crappy week to ensue.  It helps to know what’s coming.

That pretty much sums up my week.

When you ask God to reveal things in your life that you’ve worshipped as replacements for Him, he never points out little stuff.  No, when it’s a God replacement, it tends to be big stuff, or at least, it’s stuff that you’ve made a big deal. 

I’ll probably update you sometime on what I’m learning, once I’ve stopped licking my wounds for long enough to write about it.

Until then, heed my advice, or warning, or what have you.

Cart of Darkness 3

For some reason, idiots in grocery stores flock to me like fruit flies to the produce section. 

Once again, Costco is the culprit.  Either I spend too much time in Costco, or the mega store has more than its fair share of morons.  Maybe it has something to do with the large empty spaces drawing large empty heads.  I’m trying not to think about what that means for me shopping there.

Today, we focus on the nitwits in line, the checkout line to be precise.

Last Sunday, I stopped at the store to pick up some odds and ends, or in other words, excuses for me to browse the book section.  I went on the weekend, which is typically a fate worse than death.  The lines get really long on those days.  I found a line that was manageable, and when it was my turn to put my items on the conveyor belt, I pulled my cart ahead and began loading items on.  There was a gap between my items at the end of the belt and the items of the person in front of me, about 2 feet worth of space.

From out of nowhere, a snappish looking middle aged woman swooped into that gap and placed her items between my purchases and those of the people who were in line before me.  Basically, she was cutting, but cutting while I had my items on the conveyor belt. 

She only had 2 items, sure, and if she had asked, I might even have let her cut, but to do it without asking?  I stood there dumbfounded, holding my carton of strawberries as the conveyor belt went by empty.  The people ahead of her cleared out, she paid, took off, and never looked me in the eye once.  She knew she did wrong.

Sure, I could have made a hissy fit.  Stomped up and down, demanded that she run to the back of the line (several people deep by now).  But what would that have accomplished?  Well, maybe I’d have a better story to tell you, like the one my mom shared with me recently.

 My mom called the other day to complain about her latest Costco fiasco, so I know I’m not alone.  She gave me permission to relate her tale, and I hope that by doing so, I’ll raise awareness of a disturbing individual who is haunting a Costco near you.  We’ll call her “Sample Woman.”

Costco has great samples. It’s one of the reasons I shop there during the hours of 1-4 (prime sample time), especially on Fridays.  It’s funny the things you’ll eat as a free sample that you’d normally never consider sticking in your mouth under normal circumstances.

“Try a taste of beef fat wrapped in bacon, 9.99 for 10 lbs,” A woman in a red apron says, as she holds out a steaming tray of flesh.  A long line forms as soon as the microwave beeps.  I find myself popping one of the morsels in my mouth, praising its texture and moisture. 

But apparently, some people take the sampling thing a little too far. 

My mom was in line, with her purchases on the conveyor belt, waiting to pay, when the woman behind her reached forward and began browsing through mom’s merchandise. She opened up mom’s box of grapes, plucked one, and popped it in her mouth.  “Oh, those are good,” she said, conversationally.

Watching the woman first touch, then eat her food, mom weighed the appropriate response. 

Mom asked her to please stop eating her food.  But sampler woman continued in her sampling spree.  She proceeded to poke and prod with her long fingernails at some fish fillets mom was purchasing. 

Eager to reclaim her personal space and possessions, mom finally told her, “I’m sick and you’d better stand back, so I don’t cough all over you.” 

That worked.  It also had the benefit of being true. Go mom.

Cart of Darkness 1

Cart of Darkness 2

 

Let’s Play “Find the Idol”

I just love it when my pastor delivers a timely sermon on something I’m wrestling with in my own life.  It’s such a great confirmation of God’s devotion to the church body and its growth as a community.  It also encourages me that I’m not alone in my struggles, that the things I face in my daily walk are issues many of my brothers and sisters in Christ are dealing with too.

Last Sunday, Pastor Mark spoke about worship, but in particular, he devoted much of the sermon to the way we misplace our worship on false idols.  And those of you who have been reading this blog for the past several weeks have read about my quest to unearth  hidden idols in my heart, most particularly ones that misshape the one True God into something unlike himself.  You can click here to read about what I’ve found thus far.

We spent the large part of the service going through the following, detailed list of questions, helping us to reflect on the potential idols in our life.  I warn you, don’t approach this too lightly.  Once you start asking yourself these questions, God might reveal things you hold dear, too dear. 

 Consider yourself warned.

Who/what are your external idols?

* Who/what is my Lord that rules over my life determining how I live?
* Who/what is my Judge I am living to earn the approval of? 
* Where do you give the firstfruits of your wealth?
* Where do you give the firstruits of your time?
* What people and things take the majority of your life?
* What do you plan and pray for?

Who/what are your internal idols?

* What false beliefs do you hold about God?
* Which parts of Scripture do you deeply doubt or even disbelieve?
* Deep down in your heart who/what do you love, cherish, treasure, long for the most?
* Deep down in your heart who/what do you despise and hate the most?
* Who/what makes you happiest? Why?
* Who/what makes you saddest? Why?

Who/what is your mediator between you and God?

* Who or what other than Jesus do you use to get closer to God?
* Who or what if taken from your life would cause you to not walk as faithfully with God?
* How do you define yourself, especially when introducing yourself to others?

 Where is your functional heaven?

* When daydreaming about escaping this life, what does your functional heaven look like and how is it different from the real heaven?
* On earth, where do you run for your safety or comfort as your hiding place (e.g. the fridge, alcohol, the television, a person, a place, a hobby)?

Who/what is your functional savior?

* What is your picture of hell in this life (e.g. being single, not having children, being poor, etc.)?
* Who or what do you use to save you from what you fear (e.g. a relationship, children, money, shopping, sex, etc.)? 

What good thing has become a god thing?

* Which idols are in your life that when appreciated and/or stewarded correctly are means of worship but have become objects of worship (e.g. work, family, health, friendship, pleasure, leisure, hobby, etc.)?
* If you could obtain or change one thing/person in your life what would that be?
* What idols am I selling to others? 

Amy’s Additional Questions

*What does your best friend or spouse say are your idols? (hint: ask them)
*What’s the number one topic in the books or movies that line your shelves?
*If your house was on fire, what would you carry out with you?

To download the full sermon mp3, click here:

To watch or listen to the full sermon online, click here:

To read the sermon notes (the source for these questions), click here:

Amy’s False Idols: Therapist God

As I continue to seek out long hidden idols in my heart, those misrepresentations of God that I’ve come to worship, I’ve found yet another insidious creation taking the true God’s rightful place.  I’m calling this idol Therapist God, and I don’t mean him to be a knock against the entire mental health profession, which is well and good.  But when God starts looking like the guy with the leather couch and the Freud beard, you’ve got an idol problem.

I’m not ashamed to admit that there have been times in my life where I’ve sought therapy from counselors, psychologists, and psychiatrists.  Just like our physical health needs attention and its own special brand of doctors, our mental health also requires its own unique forms of treatment. 

So, I understand the counselor/counselee roles, but I was surprised to recognize that I was playing the parts with God.  I’d sit myself on his couch and talk about my feelings.  Me, Me, Me, Me, Me.  I’d search his word for some tips for how to handle my emotions.  In fact, I just memorized two great verses in James for anger:  “My dear brothers, take note of this:  Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires” (1:19-20).

So far, my attitude isn’t exactly bad.  Okay, It’s a little selfish. 

But here’s where it becomes flat out idolatry:  I stop at this stage. 

What makes God vastly different and superior from all mental health professionals is his ability to transform us and our minds.  Whereas a counselor or psychiatrist can give us tips and tricks, be a good listening ear, or maybe even prescribe some excellent pharmaceuticals, only God has the power to change us 100%, in an instant, if he wishes. 

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day who is a former drug addict, and this point hit me really hard.  In her former life, she did drugs, slept around, got abortions, and made a general mess of her life.  Then, she met Jesus, and he transformed her, heart, mind, and soul.  I was sitting with her as she nursed the latest addition to her growing family, when I realized how feeble my idol was.

Sure, a counselor might have helped her out a bit, but nobody but Jesus could make her the incredible mom and wife that she is today. 

So this is where I’m selling God short.  By calling him Therapist God and limiting him to the powers of an earthly therapist, I’m denying the miracles that I’ve witnessed him perform in my own life and the lives of others.  I’m losing faith in his power to transform, renew, and recreate.

And of course, this should change my prayer life.  When I pray to therapist God, it’s as low key as a therapy session.  But when I lay my heart and mind before the God who has the power to change me forever, I walk away awed and inspired.  And a little scared.  Nobody faces transforming change without just a little trepidation.

“Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2a).

Friday Funny: The Saga of Ceiling Cat

I love lolcats, especially those at the ICanHasCheezburger blog, my favorite addiction.

There’s a storyline that has emerged among the submissions, and wheras my husband loves the “nom” topics, I prefer the epic struggle between “ceiling cat” and “basement cat.” It’s a familiar story that you might recognize from elsewhere.

So, for your Friday amusement, I bring you, my interpretation of the story of Ceiling Cat (with credits going to ICanHasCheezburger for the pictures and captions).

(I admit that I got this one from ICanHasCheezburger’s sister site, IHasAHotDog, for all those strange dog people out there).

Amy’s Marginalia: Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress

A friend of mine recommended that I read this little book as part of my blitz through fiction with a Chinese twist.  You can read more about that trend here.

Not having read anything by Balzac before, the book’s title didn’t exactly jump off the shelves at me, but a friend’s recommendation is all I need as an excuse to dive into another book.  Interestingly, at the last writer’s conference I attended, I learned that the number one reason why women purchase books is because of a recommendation. 

The story is set in a time that I knew little about, during the Cultural Revolution in China, specifically in 1971.  The two main characters are bourgeois boys sent to the countryside for “re-education,” which basically means that they were to forget all the city bred culture they knew and replace it with backwoods country ways.  This also meant that all Western elements were banned, especially books.  When the boys come across a cache of forbidden books, including several works by Balzac, their world is expanded, and they are nourished by their worldview and lessons.  The Little Chinese Seamstress is a simple country girl that the boys meet who is also transformed by these Western books and ideas.

Anyone who has read the high school classic Fahrenheit 451 can recognize the horror of a culture without books.  Whereas Bradbury’s book imagines future without books, Dai Sijie’s novel looks back to a time and place where the unthinkable actually happened. 

The boys risk their lives to read these forbidden books.  They devise clever ways of copying the writing, most notably on the inner lining of their clothing.  I’ve read about a thirst for words like this before, and it occurs to me that stories that most closely resemble them are from missionaries who travelled across the Iron Curtain (Brother Andrew’s God Smuggler is the prime example). Today, missionaries in the 10/40 window also face similar obstacles.  Underground churches meticulously copy Bible verses, so the one Bible in the congregation can be shared more effectively. 

Do you ever notice how you only recognize the value of something once it’s taken away from you? If you’re anything like me, you have a bookshelf or two crammed with books, many of which you don’t read.  Most believers probably have several Bibles kicking around their homes. There’s also a public library in your town that you might not have visited in the past year, or 10.

But what if a new government stepped in, one that banned these books and ideas.  Wouldn’t their worth be of greater value to you?  Would you sit up late at night, reading them, searching them for the hidden, secret wisdom that was banned and forbidden?

Sometimes, I wonder if banning books makes people read them more.  For example, in the small town where I grew up, our high school assigned Jane Smiley’s book A Thousand Acres to one of the English classes.  A parent got wind of the assignment and sounded the alarm that there were profanities and some sex scenes.  Would you believe it, the book flew off the shelves in our area?  It was mostly church people buying it to read it, so they could join in denouncing it.  It was sold out everywhere.  But bookstores were quick to catch on, and they restocked quickly.  There’s a copy on my bookshelf too.

I’m not saying that we should ban the Bible. Heaven forbid. But I am saying, maybe we’re a little too comfortable in our freedoms.  Stepping into these stories, where we read about others who don’t have it so easy, who would love to have the access we have, maybe we’d recognize the precious treasure we have available to us any time we want it. 

And we too can be transformed (Romans 12:2).

You Are What You Memorize

I’ve been noticing something a little unsettling about memorizing scripture.  It seems that whatever verse I happen to be stuck on at the moment, that’s the topic that will be a spiritual pitfall for me at the time.  Let me give you some examples, so you don’t think I’m a total nutcase.

Early in the year, I  hit verse five:  “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be giving to him.”  This was the first verse that I really struggled with.  I couldn’t quite get it down, so I was on it for awhile.  As a result, I spent a lot of time dwelling on its meaning and realizing that I truly didn’t believe this.  I was frustrated about several circumstances in my life, and instead of looking to God for the wisdom and the answers, I struggled to find my own answers.  Basically, at the foundational level, I didn’t believe that God could provide me with the wisdom I sought.

Through the process of trying to memorize the verse, I was forced to confront God’s truth on the matter, again and again, and drill it into my head and into my heart.  I’d like to say that now, I always turn to God’s wisdom instead of running after my own foolish ideas, but that isn’t always the case.  However, it was a good wakeup call.

Here’s the section I’m working on right now, and let me tell you, it’s convicting: 

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves.  Do what it says.  Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.  But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it - he will be blessed in what he does (22-25). 

Guess who, in the process of memorizing this very piece of scripture, would read it and not apply it to herself?  Talk about double meaning.  Here are several verses about the very problem of reading scripture (or listening to it) and not applying it to oneself, and that’s exactly what I was failing to do.  I get a headache just thinking about the whole chicken and the egg aspect of it all.

I have several theories about why this happens when I memorize scripture.  First, and I think foremost, scripture convicts and draws attention to my sin.  It’s living and active, sharper than any double edged sword, so it shouldn’t surprise me that any piece of scripture shows me my foolishness and sets me straight. 

Next, there’s God, who uses scripture as one of his many tools to speak to his children, to train them, to teach them, to transform them.  There are no coincidences with God.  He’s lovingly guiding me to particular verses, and he certainly placed this book on my heart for a reason.  Obviously, it had a lot of messages I needed to learn.

Finally, and this is the kind of twilight zone reason, but God is control of our circumstances.  If he wants us to learn a lesson at a particular time, it’s not beyond his power to coordinate things in our lives to match the scripture we’re reading.  My pastor jokes about this sometimes.  He says that if there’s a sermon he’s preaching, he’s guaranteed to have the week prior to the preaching about it filled with examples.  So, when it’s on topics like suffering and persecution, he’s not so excited to face those particular weeks.  He can expect a double dose of those, to help him prepare.

Let me tell you, this scripture memorization stuff is not for the faint of heart!

Amy’s Marginalia: Three Cups of Tea

As a thank you for reviewing a composition textbook for them, my textbook publisher sent me a free bestseller for my “summer reading” pleasure.  I was pleased to receive something other than the typical reader, filled with college essays to assign to my students *snooze*. They sent me a copy of Three Cups of Tea, a book that’s been on the New York Times’ bestseller’s list for awhile now. 

I don’t feel obliged to review the book, since I got it as a thank you for reviewing another book.  But, maybe I’ll get one more if I keep this up. =)  However, I found the book so surprisingly good that I wanted to share my thoughts (or marginalia) on it with you all. 

As a believer, here’s the main take home point I got from the book: God can use even the smallest person to do incredible things.  Read the book for that message alone.

Here’s the plot synopsis because that’s what these reviews are supposed to have (it’s been awhile since I wrote a “proper” book review):  Greg Mortenson is an American mountaineer whose failed attempt at climbing K2 becomes the beginnings of his mission to transform Pakistan and the war torn middle east through building schools and educating girls.  He’s one man singlehandedly fighting the Taliban, and his weapons are books. 

With a title like Three Cups of Tea, you must think I’m pulling your leg.  My husband certainly did.  I think it was a clever marketing idea to get 30-50 year old women, the largest book buying segment of the population, to purchase this. 

So guys, if you think your ego might take a hit if you’re seen carrying around a book with women in burkhas and the words “tea” on the cover, consider buying a book cover (or even better, make one out of duct tape), or just get over it.  It’s a book men would enjoy too. 

Mortenson isn’t a Christian, as far as I could gather.  Even if he were, I’m sure that openly embracing the Christian faith would create many roadblocks to doing his work in that part of the world. He continually needed to prove that he wasn’t indoctrinating the children with his western ideas. Interestingly, his parents were Christian missionaries in Africa, and he grew up there.

Many parts of the story read like a faith based narrative of divinely appointed encounters when the right person shows up at just the right time, or someone feels called to help out without an explanation, saying things like “I’m not a religious person…but I felt I’d been brought there for a reason” (186).  When you read the book as a believer, you can see how God could be appointing this work, organizing non-believing people, despite their disbelief.  After all, he’s done it before (see the Bible for a few thousand references). 

The book resounded with my experience in the Middle East, in Israel.  While studying abroad in Jerusalem (at Jerusalem University College), Dan and I met a very hospitable Muslim shopkeeper in the old city named Suliman, and he welcomed us into his shop with a cup of tea.  We returned to visit him several times, and each time, we’d have a cup of mint tea with him.  Before we left the city, at the end of our time there, he gave us each a present, a circle of beads, known as worry beads, or to some devout Muslims, they are used to facilitate prayers.  We’d taken a picture with our friend Suliman, and when Dan’s parents travelled to Israel, we sent the picture with them, in case they met him, by means of an introduction.  They found our friend, and once they shared the picture, they were welcomed as old friends.  As far as we know, a picture of us is still hanging in his shop in Jerusalem.

A cup of tea can’t solve all the world’s problems, neither can three, but if everyone sat down long enough to talk over tea once in awhile, I’m sure the world would be a much better place. 

If you want to know how to make Suliman’s tea, I’ve tried to approximate it at home.  Here’s my best shot:

2 cups boiling water
2 bags of green tea (use loose leaf for best flavor)
6 fresh mint leaves (ripped a few times to release more flavor)

Steep for 5 minutes.  I like to make my tea in a French coffee press, but you can manage in a tea pot if you strain the ingredients as you pour the tea.

Pour into cups with a couple teaspoons of sugar, to make it nice and sweet, just like Suliman served it to us.

Tearing Down False Idols: Banker God

I’m on a quest, sort of like an Indiana Jones styled archaeological hunt, to find long hidden idols, false objects of worship. But these idols aren’t made of gold or silver. I’m not ferreting out golden calves in my life. I’m looking for more insidious ones, idols that misrepresent the one true God.

I started my quest with my Easy Bake God, which you can read about here. But after finding one idol, my sense of adventure heightened, I only wanted to find more.

In his book Knowledge of the Holy, A.W. Tozer explains how idols aren’t always the carved statues from pagan cultures or the items we worship in our consumer driven society. True idols are false conceptions of the true God:

The idolatrous heart assumes that God is other than He is - in itself a monstrous sin - and substitutes for the true God one made after its own likeness…The essence of idolatry is the entertainment of thoughts about God that are unworthy of Him…The idolater simply imagines things about God and acts as if they were true (3,4).

This week, I found another idol, one that I’ve been building in my heart for awhile, one that I didn’t even realize I was constructing until it was too late, and it was fully formed.

I’ll call this idol “Banker God.” He works a steady job, banker’s hours to be precise. He prefers it if you make an appointment with him, and he’s an awfully busy guy.

I tend to have my daily time with God in the mornings. I’ve been doing this since I graduated from college. In college, my times with God got crammed into wherever I could fit them, between classes and study sessions and walks on the beach (life was rough in Santa Barbara, California). But, when I got a job and a more predictable schedule, God got allocated mornings before work.

Somehow between college ending and today, I’ve managed to turn that morning time into a mandated appointment with God. Not only that, my understanding of God’s nature has warped to fit this style of meeting.

I’ve started cooling to the morning devotion times. Maybe it’s because I’ve got to work on my priorities, but maybe it’s just because I need to rethink a better time to meet with God. My best time for writing happens to be the morning, and I was starting to resent God from taking that time from me. I didn’t like spending time with him when I had that on my heart. I felt myself writing in my head when I should have been focused on him.

So, the other night, sitting in bed, I took out my Bible and was working on one of my memory verses in James. I took it further and did some Bible study, and I found that my focus was so much better since I wasn’t thinking about writing so much. But, I felt guilty because I wasn’t meeting God during our appointment time in regular business hours. I wasn’t even approaching him in the typical setting or with the Bible I always use for devotions.

Thankfully, God broke through and showed up, letting me know that he doesn’t operate according to banker’s hours, or any set hours or human plans. Just because I’ve had a set schedule with him for a long time, it doesn’t mean that we can’t spontaneously change that, any day.

“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” -Jesus (Matthew 28:20).