The way of escape

I was at our staff retreat this past weekend (no work, all play, don't worry!), and we were reading and talking about suffering, as many of us have had a very hard year. We'd read a piece by Joni Erickson Tada about her accident and subsequent journey from anger at God to peace. The turning point for her was not the gobs of friends who sat by her hospital bed and read the Bible to her, but when her friend Jackie snuck into her room after hours, snuggled up next to her in her bed, and held her hand...holding it up so Joni could see her squeeze it, since she couldn't feel it. It was love that opened Joni's heart and suddenly she didn't need answers to all of her questions.

We started highlighting the points of the story that were meaningful for us. True to (awkward?) form, I wanted to make the discussion real, so I blurted out (through tears, ugh) something about how on Thursday I'd been so done with the work day
and I'd lugged the bulletins all the way to Kinkos
and stood there for 10 minutes (because they always take so long)
and then they told me the folder was broken
and I just stared at the guy
and...it was the last straw
and I had a meltdown with God
and told Him exactly what I thought of my life and how He was treating me,
and then I somehow found peace.
But my real question had nothing to do with bulletins but life: “how do I deal with suffering when life doesn’t let up and I can’t seem to find rest for my soul?”

We all kind of sat there after my blurt, until Glenn said something to try to comfort me. And Jean Baldwin sought me out afterward with words of deep understanding and wisdom. But I spent the rest of the weekend obsessing about how I'd made things awkward and piled my junk on other people and should try to be more sensitive next time.

However, blurts get God's attention. And His help, His breakthroughs, His peace. David knew it, and I am learning it.

During Glenn's sermon Sunday night God whispered “the answer” (really just His love, like Jackie) through I Corinthians 10:13. In every trial and every temptation, He not only has measured it out according to what I can handle, but embedded in the trial is a “way of escape.” It’s there. He always puts it there. And I can look for it. I must look for it. It will get me through. Kind of like a treasure hunt, the search for the golden Way of Escape. Follow the yellow brick road.

But the main point is...His love. I get most upset because I think the trial reveals He doesn’t care, that He’s trying to hurt me, that I really am all alone in this world and have to fend for myself. But if the trial is a Hand-crafted work of love for my benefit, how much more is the way of escape? How much more would He be designing a specific mercy, or a heap of mercies—and lessons and truths and illuminations—to lavish on me through the ordeal and afterward. I was so humbled by my lack of faith, attributing to God un-love, even indifference and malice (though it sure feels like that sometimes, eh? How to balance His sovereignty with the presence of evil...another question for the universe).

“In all their affliction, He was afflicted; and the angel of His presence saved them...” (Isaiah 63:9)

Constant entertainment...for free

I think I'm gonna keep a running list of the bizarre people I see on the street every day in DC. (You inspired me to do this tonight, T...not because you're bizarre, but because we talked about it.) Feel free to add yur own in the comments section! (obviously some of you feel freer than others...T!)

[at 9th and Penn] a lady with hiking/skiing poles, just walking along the sidewalk and using them to help her hike the sites

[by the Washington Monument] a guy riding a bike that was three times as tall as any person walking by, like a clown...how did he even get up on the seat, let alone keep his balance?

[at 7th and Indiana] a perfectly normal college-aged guy in t-shirt and jeans quoting Hamlet's soliloque (or something Shakespeare) with drama and passion, to no one

[walking up 7th to the Chinatown metro] one of those Vikings from the Capital One commercials...I'm seeeerious

32 year old freshman!

A week ago yesterday I got a call that changed my life. And a week ago today I made a road trip that will become my daily commute.

Every 3-5 years I apply to whatever college seems best for me. Just as I did my senior year of high school, although at that time I decided to forgo scholarships from five schools in order to do full-time ministry. And I kept making that decision.

So this past winter I applied to St. John's College in Annapolis because they have the best "great books" program, and I am all about great books. However, the tuition was super steep, and if I didn't get a miraculous chunk o' cash, I knew the whole idea was preposterous. Then, I was diagnosed with adrenal fatigue, so my entire life appeared to be on hold for years to come.

So I tossed aside the letter from St. John's saying I was eligible for a humongous grant...if only they had the money in hand. And I checked the box "stay on the waiting list for this fall" because it was the only free option, and I wasn't gonna pay a $300 deposit for something that wasn't gonna happen anyway.

Then, two weeks ago, the call came. I even ignored the call and said with disdain under my breath, thinking it was a work call, "don't bother me on my lunch break."

It was St. John's telling me my patience had come to fruition and I'd received the humongous grant. Patience? I had totally given up. And once again, God resurrected my dream and got all the glory.

So I decided I should probably visit the school, did so the next day, and by the time I left I knew I couldn't turn down this opportunity.

So here I go!

Annapolis is only 30 minutes from DC, with no traffic (the wildcard). So my plan at least for now is to commute and keep living in DC, going to my church, maybe working PT for them, and keep getting to hang out with my friends. (I'll need some my own age!)

It is a unique school (why else would I be going there?) in that everyone goes through the same program and comes out with a BA in Philosophy. You read all the great books of philosophy that have shaped history, starting with the ancient Greeks (and learning the ancient Greek language to boot) up to the present day over four years. Everyone reads these books, or portions of them, and gathers to discuss them twice a week with the same group of 18 or so fellow students. The rest of the curriculum revolves around that core with the philosophy of math and science, language, and music. Oh and there are no tests or exams, just lots of papers. The professors are called "tutors" and the ratio is 8 to 1 as they strive to be super-accessible for one-on-one discussion. The goal of the college is to expose the student to the great works and allow him to hammer out for himself what he believes and learn to articulate it.

This is my college story so far. And I'm sure they'll be lots of entertaining mini-dramas to come.