Score one

Getting letters written helps a lot in deciding what I want to do with my graduate career. Also, a couple days' worth of relaxing has been good for me. I've had some time to think, to rest, and to play board games, which have all done wonders for my nerves and sense of purpose. Up next is a load of reading. Tomorrow or the next day I will get to see my good friend Cam, who has gotten his own grad studies off to a start, for which I am very proud of him. I will find out whether it was a good start or otherwise when I see him.

Thank God for patience and timing, the God whose eyes are always on his children, who welcomes all who come to him.

Knowledge and service

My exams are done, papers are returned, there's a good amount of snow outside, and I am gearing up for a week of fireplaces, family, and tobogganing as Rachel and I prepare to go to my parents' house for Christmas. It promises to be a lot of fun; I love Rachel, I love my family, and I love Christmas.

By all accounts I should be very happy about the holiday season, but lately things have been weird. I feel a general sense of ennui, like there's always something I ought to be doing, and that I'm failing at it.

Part of it is my grad school applications. They need to get done soon, and I am getting anxious because I still don't know all the places I'm going to apply to, or for what exactly. There were a couple places I was looking at, and I think I have it narrowed down. The winnowing process was made easier by the $100 application fee. Stupid grad schools, restricting my whims.

Another part of it, I think, is that I have been working very intensely these past few months. After four years of university, I feel like I am finally taking my education seriously. This is one of the reasons I feel legitimized in applying to grad schools. Anyone who knows me knows that grad work has been on my mind for a couple years now. But only recently has it become clear to me that this is the direction that I ought to be heading. One thing that has become more obscured, however, is where I ought to be applying, and for what.

In recent weeks and months, it's been impressed upon me that I ought to consider a more full-time ministry vocation. I think part of this is a fear of academia, that I won't be able to succeed or excel. But I wonder how much of this is, at the root, just panic and paranoia. I think a more significant reason is the renewed passion and desire that I have to serve God and His church. I don't know where that will lead me, but I have friends and family who are praying and supporting me through this process, and I am eternally grateful to them. My friend Dave remarked that I seem to be doing the opposite of what a lot of folks at Tyndale do. As opposed to coming in wanting to be a pastor, and losing interest over the years, I came in wanting to get into academics, and got into God along the way.

In addition to educational reinvigorating, I've been meeting with a mentor, which has been difficult and demanding, but so good for me, and I feel better equipped than ever to be the man of God that I am meant to be. But I still don't feel fully equipped to live rightly; I will always need help. And I know that I have that help, in many forms. I have good, godly friends who encourage me and pray for me. I have Rachel, who prays for me and helps me to see things that I am missing.

Maybe I am not living up to the plan that God has laid out for me, and that's throwing my whole life off-kilter. Being better prepared, like I believe myself to be, I have higher expectations of myself. I feel a greater responsibility over myself and my relationships, as well as the world at large, not because I am anything special, but exactly the opposite. I have been learning a lot about submission, sacrificial love, respect and humility.

This has led me to reflect on the Biblical idea of servanthood. I am coming to an understanding of God as a servant. Jesus says that "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Matthew 20:25-28)

Rather than the stereotype of a servant as a servile, ignorant peon, I am beginning to recognize that a Biblical servant is ironically in a position of great power and knowledge. The Biblical servant, whether a prophet or other, knows that there is a right way for things to be, the way that the all-powerful God intends. And from that knowledge, the servant works for the building up and education others. Not so that they will owe him anything, not to earn their favour or to score honours for himself, but because the servant recognizes that "with great power comes great responsibility." And further, that responsibility is dictated by love, which God has poured out into our hearts. Love that comes from God must be a pure love, and anything that it inspires, if it is tested with right reason and real desire for truth, I think ought to be pure as well. You will know a tree by its fruit. Love for God, and the concomitant love for the creatures made in God's image, impels the godly servant to persist in his work. Love and knowledge work together.

Worship and black islands

I went to chapel today at Tyndale for the first time in awhile. As we were standing and singing, I found myself, as usual, thinking about the words that were up on the screen. Anyone who knows me even sort of well knows that I care very much about what Christians call worship. So I stood in the back, thinking about what was being sung, trying to decide if it was right for me to sing along.

I don't even remember what song it was, but I remember looking at the lyrics, and thinking to myself that these were like the words I have prayed on my own many times, they were lyrics of praise, of devotion, that profess a love for God and a desire for His will to be done and His name to be known, and for one's own life to be one that God is pleased with.

Another thing that I noticed was that, even though the themes were familiar and orthodox, it still seemed strange to sing the words. I have a theory why that is.

First, I've been learning lately that the natural mind is in a state of rebellion towards God. Especially an educated mind will be resistant to the idea of serving or being humbled before anyone else. Scripturally, our natural state is selfish and self-serving, so it only makes sense that our natural mind would find the idea of submitting to another repulsive. And if this is the case, it would seem strange and awkward to sing of being humbled or of giving up those things which are dearest to me or that I am most proud of. The idea of being humbled is great, until it comes to actually doing it. Then it's hard work. The optimist might think that the songwriters have gotten their hearts and words right. The cynic would say that they are recycling Sunday school lessons and flippantly making them rhyme.

I find myself thinking a mix of the two. I think of some of the other significant figures in Christianity. Paul was a Pharisee; Peter was a traitor and liar; Martin Luther had a history of anti-Semitism; William Cowper suffered a crippling depression after his uncle forbade him to marry his cousin; Kierkegaard was something of a man-whore. On the one hand, I think the character of our Christian leaders is of great importance. On the other hand, God's grace is made perfect in our weakness, and he has chosen the foolish and insignificant things of the world to shame the wise. In other words, I believe that it is my destiny as a Christian to seek to know God and live like him; I also believe that God is sometimes best represented through wrecked and deficient people.

For a long time I really despised contemporary worship music. It seemed insincere, careless and showy. I haven't completely backed away from that position, but I have chosen to give songwriters the benefit of the doubt in a lot of cases. When someone writes "blessed be your name when I walk through the wilderness," I choose to believe that they have some genuine desire to bring honour and glory to God.

I also think they need to try harder. Songwriting is an art, and I feel like there are too many unimaginative four-chord worship songs out there.

All in all, I'm glad that I went to chapel today, and I look forward to doing some more thinking about worship.

Also, one or two people might recognise that the title of this post is taken from a poem by Mike Bonikowsky. He is a superb poet who I'm excited to feature for the rest of the year in Canon25.

Updates FTW!

I suppose it's been a long time since I've posted. But enough about that.

A lot of things have happened in the last month and a half (seriously? whoah). In the first place, I have become engaged to Rachel. She can confirm this arrangement, as well as the story that accompanies it. I feel like the bet way to tell the story is with a dramatic retelling of the conversation I had with my mother the day I proposed.

Ryan: Hi Mom

Joanne: Hi Ryan! It's nice to hear from you [my mom loves me, and I don't call enough].

Ryan: Yeah, it's good to talk with you. So, some big news. I have acquired for myself a wife, in the person of Rachel, with whom you are familiar [sometimes I pretend I'm a 1790's barrister].

Joanne: Oh, that's wonderful! Today?

Ryan: Yes, just a couple hours ago.

Joanne: I'm very happy about that, Ryan. She is a lovely girl, worthy of perpetuating our family name. Will you take her to live at the manor? [that last part never happened. It's a reference to my friend Will.] So how did you do it?

Ryan: Well, we had made a date to go apple picking [there's something very romantic about manual labour] so I borrowed horses and a chariot from Leslie, and we rode up on a foggy, overcast morning to the orchard. Following the orchard, I had a picnic planned, but by then it was raining, so instead we went to the Zellers diner...

Joanne: Ryan! That is so tacky!

Ryan: Mother, please. You raised me better than that. The Zellers diner was not our final destination.

Joanne: You have given me new life.

Ryan: After that we went to my apartment; all the way there, we engaged in discussion about what it meant to be a godly man and woman, and what we needed to do and become in order to make our relationship one that honours God and blesses us and others. When we arrived at the apartment, I sat down with her on the couch. I told her that based on the way our relationship has been going, and on the way we talked that day in the car, I would be very honoured to have her as my wife.
She later confessed to me that because she hadn't seen a ring, she was uncertain whether I would actually propose. But then, SURPRISE! From a covert location in a pocket of my bag, I withdrew a small red box. Inside that small red box was a smaller gold ring. I assumed a knelt position, and offered her the ring in exchange for her hand. Her response was decidedly affirmative, and we hastened straight away to share the glad tidings.

Joanne: Why are you talking like that? Well, anyways, I'm very happy for you. We love Rachel, she's very good for you.

Ryan: Thanks Mom. Well we have other people to call. Love you. Talk to you soon

So that's the story. More updates to follow. I suppose a lot can happen in a month and a half.

Peace

Student baking tip #1

If you don't own a rolling pin, you can use one of those "indestructible" plastic water bottles. Thanks for listening.

Shakespeare the way Bill Cosby intended

In the summer, the city of Toronto holds something called Dream in High Park. It features a theater company performing Shakespeare's plays outdoors, in High Park. They run one play every summer; often, but not always, it's Midsummer Night's Dream, as suggested by the event name. This summer it is. Being avid supporters of theater, fresh air and each other, Rachel and I readily decided to go.

The set was large and ostentatious, with three levels, two staircases, large swinging metal gates, and neat little Christmas lights. We were seated on the ground, amphitheatre style, with booze-smuggling hipsters above us, and a potato-salad eating, baby-carrying extended family below.

The show started promptly, which is the best way for shows to start, with a heavily tattooed Puck running through the crowd with a long bamboo pole, and my suspicion was that things were going to get hot. And hot they got. Trust fund princess lovers, a Junkyard gang acting troupe and a Caribbean fairy cast made me smile, laugh and clap with delight. Further to that, the fairies seemed to have proper training in magic (whatever that means) and were pushing, pulling, spinning and flipping each other with invisible ropes, showcasing Puck's impressive gymnastic abilities.

Two things distressed me, but only slightly. Egeus, as a high-browed suburban mother, consistently talked on her mobile device, in decidedly non-Shakespearean language. And Lysander occasionally babbled and repeated his lines, not just once or twice, but like he was trying all the possible combinations of words in a sentence ("True love, the course, run smooth, never did" and variations thereupon). I don't know why he did that, whether it was deliberate or if he was trying to buy some time for himself or another actor, but it was confusing and distracting, and not consistent with his character.

But these complaints are minor and in no real way detracted from an otherwise enjoyable production. The night was clear and the moon was out, and I could feel a little bit of magic from that haunted grove.

25

I'm having a quarter-life crisis. It's like a mid-life crisis but more efficient. I can't afford a motorcycle. And it's a bitch. I was struck by the impression that I haven't done anything with my life, and have resolved to start working harder. This was after a few choice cuss words and a couple tears. Rachel prayed for me again, like she always does. She has been good for me, interceding for me and bringing my spirit closer to God. I wonder if in another century she would have been a nun, and sat around, just praying. She has let me feel OK freaking out. I don't do it that often, but I know that I could, and recently I have. As I said before about Abraham, I want to suffer, and struggle, and be tested. Maybe God has never tested me because I've never been ready for it. Maybe it would have killed me, at least my spirit. Maybe I'm still not ready, but I have a sense that I will at least start working towards it.

Further regarding prayer

Ours is an uncomfortable peace,
Vague parodies of sacred space
These halls offended oft before
As spartan host will take their place

Sweet blasphemy anticipated
Flock and pharaoh elevated
Must this altar, too, be torn,
where holy sound once resonated?

Holy sound, come lift us free
From affinity to anarchy
Chanting bird and flowing fountain call us to rejoice in Thee.

The other night Rachel prayed over me. Over us, I suppose. She confessed that we had forgotten what it means to worship. That resonated with me. After we had prayed, I grabbed a book on worship that I've been meaning to read, and learned that worship is a couple of things. In the first place, it is a two-way affair, with both man and God actively participating; maybe it is man looking at something of God and praising him for it. I was at a concert the other night, where, for the first time in a long time, I felt drawn into an utterly otherworldly, worshipful state of mind, a spirit, I guess.

Now, the extended time that I've gone without worshiping is largely my own fault, as I've been skipping out on all but the crappiest churches (see previous post). The expected result has naturally been an absence of worship, for so much of worship is rooted in a community.

I have a few unresolved questions about worship, but it's now back on my mind at least, and I feel drawn to things of God, and perhaps to acts of worship, like prayer and scripture reading, and even my too-neglected fellowship with other believers.

I wonder where and how worship begins. Is it something that I can simply decide to do?

What is the most important thing about worship?

Is there a point where worship becomes something else, something simply self-gratifying? I've been told that almost anything can be understood as worship. Playing sports, writing, cooking, painting, laying bricks, these have all been championed as acts of worship. Is it therefore just a state of mind? A state of heart? Is there a difference between them, and how can I tell?

A popular temptation around this point is to say that I should be proud of myself for thinking and struggling with these questions. But I don't see why anyone should think that these questions or the fact that I'm wondering to be anything praiseworthy. Are they bringing me closer to an answer? Maybe. It's difficult to tell. I know that I certainly wish I had some answers, but I also know that my investigation into this will stop after I shallowly read this book. For some reason I won't pursue it further. I'll go to church a few times and get over it; it will stop bothering me, so I will stop thinking about it. If anyone reads this and is of the sort who pray, pray for me, that I would not get any peace until I've struggled through these things with clenched fists and tears. Thank you.

Have you heard?

Sunday is shitty coffee day at the church that meets in the movie theater! Won't you join us?

Prayer

Lately I've been convinced that I should be praying better. Not just more regularly, but better. Among those of us who are of the evangelical persuasion, this is the type of conviction that is usually met with a queer hybrid of admiration and sympathy. 

How mature he must be, and how serious about his walk with God. What a mess he must be, to have been a Christian so long and be struggling to pray at all. Good for him, the poor bastard.

It's true, I don't pray very often, and I don't feel bad about it either. Some might say my conscience has been seared. Maybe. Maybe I just haven't read the right book on prayer so I don't know how to do it "effectively." Part of the problem is that the structure and format of my typical prayers is typically a spectacular waste of breath, and my well-formed paragraphs, with introduction, body and conclusion, replete with innocuous theological niceties, aren't fooling even me anymore. I'm no longer interested in making terse, professional proposals, concluded with my best regards, to God. 

Sunday School students are taught that prayer is when we talk with God. Tyndale University College and Seminary students are taught that the characteristic of the one true God of Israel is that he talks with us, and only us, human beings. 

Kierkegaard talks about the unmediated relation that mankind stands in with God. God is direct for Kierkegaard, God is unmistakable, confronting and terrifying. He blesses and he damns, and as far as he can say, which is to eternity and back, the one who loved God became greater than all. Jesus tells us that whoever is not willing to hate his parents, children or spouse for his sake is fit for the kingdom of heaven (Luke 14:26)

In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard's reflection on Abraham & Isaac, God commands Abraham to sacrifice his only son, the son who was promised to him. God speaks directly to Abraham, and Abraham, full of anguish, speaks directly back. This is what makes Abraham the "knight of faith," why Abraham's faith was credited to him as righteousness, because in the face of universal ethical obligations as a father and as a human being, Abraham believed God, who was calling him beyond the ethical, beyond the universal into what could only have been understood by any outside observer as madness. Abraham must not only violate the universal, which would have us believe it is generally poor practice to slaughter one's only son, but must also cling to God's promise that "through Isaac shall your offspring be named" (Genesis 21:12). Such a trial Kierkegaard can barely imagine, and "when I have to think of Abraham, I am annihilated."

This is unmediated relation to God, this is the kind of passionate, rapturous relation that I yearn for and that terrifies me. A part of me wants more than anything else to be subjected to Abrahamic trial, the kind that keeps me up at night, that makes me pull my hair out and fill up notebooks and tear through books and conversations in an effort to be the man I ought to be. Another part of me is comfortable right here. I can't be in unmediated, absolute relation to the Absolute just now; it's time for dinner.

Regarding Rachel

Rachel has advised me that my description of her in my "About Me" section makes her sound very boring. I am swift to emphasise that Rachel is decidedly not boring. Although she is indeed sensible and practical, she is also a person with big dreams and hopes. She excites and inspires me to strive for things I would otherwise not have thought to pursue, like traveling, or swimming, or picnicking on the sand. Everything about her I find intriguing, sometimes perplexing, sometimes frustrating, sometimes downright cute. She even crochets, which admittedly sounds boring, but only until you watch someone do it and then try it yourself. Then it falls under things that are frustrating. This is Rachel, and I love her.

How may I live? pt. 1

Hegelian philosophy, as far as I can understand it, is concerned with harmonising everyone and everything with the ideal of the universal. That is to say, there is an eternally over-arching thing that Hegel calls the universal. It's "powered", as it were, by the spirit that results when people are together in community, and what it does is coerce everything else into some kind of unity or synthesis with itself. Conversely, the task of the individual is to rear himself into the universal, and the better that one is able to do that, the more one has succeeded at life and is a partaker of and contributor to the spirit of the world-community.

Hegel is supposed to be one of the hardest writers to understand, thanks to a combination of vagueness, made-up words and definitions, and a habit of almost flippantly interchanging terms. Despite all this, even when I read him for the first time, I felt at least a latent sense of familiarity with Hegel and his championing of the universal. It may be difficult at times to understand him, but it is never a problem for me to relate to Hegel.

The draw to be a part of the universal is one that I've felt strongly and often, one that has tugged on all of us, I'm sure. It's the desire to be ethical, to feel like we belong, to live in harmony with nature. Living out the Hegelian ideal will build a unified society of people all clamoring to most perfectly exemplify the universal, treating others the way they'd like to be treated. If everyone recognises that there is a universal that we can and ought to strive towards, then everyone gets to go through life with their own personal progress bar, and that sounds like an appealing thing to have.

When I read Hegel, I find myself wondering how well I would do in such a a community, whether my progress bar would more or less developed than the rest of moral-examplar peers. Ironically the desire to be ethical gives birth to a spirit of competition. I want to better exemplify, out-moral and draw closer to the universal ideal than the next person. I doubt that this was the spirit that Hegel intended, and I don't think that I'm alone in this feeling.

But to what lengths must one go to exemplify the universal? And how far can I be expected to go before I overstep my position as one among many of the community? Even the best, strongest link, if it starts encroaching on another, is no longer contributing to the strength of the chain. And if I presume to want to make all the other links as strong as me, then I'm no longer any closer to the universal than they are, and all I have to show for my effort is a smug self-satisfaction that is, again, likely outside the moral code.

When I read Kierkegaard, on the other hand, I read about a lonely road, an unmediated existence that is in direct, absolute confrontation with God, with life, with pain, with joy. Kierkegaard tells me that we stand in an absolute relation to the absolute, and if it is any other way, then all of the previous discussions (including Hegel's in particular) on God, faith and ethics are worthless.

More on Kierkegaard later.