Being a Christian at a Christian school

So Santa Clara is very different from what I expected. The main thing that's been bothering me is the seeming hypocrisy of the university. The college is Jesuit, which is a branch of Catholicism (which is a branch of Christianity). The Jesuit society, by definition, demands poverty, chastity, and obedience to Christ and to the Pope from its members. The university itself claims to be "committed to faith-inspired values and educating leaders of competence, conscience, and compassion that will help fashion a more just, humane, and sustainable world."

So what does this look like? Students are required to take ethics and religion courses each year. Some community service is a graduation requirement. The majority of students are "raised Catholic." The president is a Jesuit father. There is a Mission Church on campus. The campus is environmentally responsible. Each dorm has a "resident minister", whose duties I am still not entirely sure, though at orientation mine informed us that one of the major reasons we are here at SCU is to discover "what truly makes us happy."

What else? The administration essentially accommodates partying through the off-campus Greek life and the "Medical Amnesty" and "Good Samaritan" programs that let you off the hook for getting caught drinking provided you look out for your buddies that are so drunk they can't get help themselves. In fact, at orientation we were encouraged to go drink and have a good time but to keep the school from finding out as long as were stayed "safe." Boyfriends and girlfriends are permitted to sleep over in the dorms. Participation is other religious traditions is highly valued and even encouraged; there is a meditation room for people of any faith and accommodations are made for students that cannot participate in an important on-campus event due to a religious holiday. The first night live entertainment was provided. I didn't go, but a similar event took place at orientation and it involved trashy hip-hop music and unapologetic grinding by our orientation leaders. The alternative provided by my dorm? Watching The Hangover in the basement, an R-rated film for sexual content and humor. Tough decision, but I had enough of that at the performing arts show for all freshmen, which began innocently enough with some improv but ended with a raunchy scene from a play in which an enraged ex-girlfriend describes all her ex's undesirable physical characteristics, the majority of which are sexual.

Call me a prude, but it's not exactly what I expected from a Catholic university. They seem to abide by the cultural notion that as long as nobody gets hurt, it's ok. We'll see how religion class goes tomorrow. At least they don't forbid morning quiet times.

"When I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:10

It's Cathartic

With college starting in four days, I've been clearing out everything: my room, my wallet, the car I use, Facebook (of friends I don't really know), this blog of stupid posts. The cleaning of my bedroom especially has got me thinking about the big questions. Why do I have so much stuff? What should I do with it: toss it or give it away? But if I give it away with a self-righteous attitude, does that invalidate the act? Is it better for a poor person not to have it if my heart is proud? How much money was spent on this stuff I never use/wear? What's the point of stuff anyway? Why was I so convinced it would bring me happiness? What is happiness? Why do I have so much while others have so little? Would they lead fuller lives if half the money that's been used on my stuff was given to them? What brings true fulfillment? Why does money have to exist at all? I've accumulated all this stuff but have I done anything worthwhile in 18 years of living? Is a monastic life more pleasing to God? Why am I here— in the South Valley, at this church, now in college? Should I be abstaining from all bodily pleasure entirely? Should the joy of the Lord be my strength or should I be more like the Man of sorrows by sharing in the "fellowship of his sufferings, being conformed to his death" (Philippians 3:10)? Will I be able to give an acceptable account at the judgment seat of Christ of what I've done with my abilities and resources? Is doing a few nice things for people and putting up with the difficult ones really the abundant life that Jesus intended for me?

I Am Such an Idiot

I've been reading a lot lately, especially books on Christianity and realizing that I do, in fact, know nothing. My understanding of God is so much narrower and shallower than it could become. And I look back on the times I've spoken in chapel or in a Bible study or small group. And how too often I've relied on the Christian culture or popular conceptions or my pastor's platitudes to "preach the Word." And I just trust that God is sovereign and that he speaks through us and in spite of us.

"My dear brothers, take note of this: everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak..."

James 1:19

Riches

So tonight was my last night with the middle school girls' Bible study. I have been involved with the junior high group for a little over two years and it's been a joy. At first it was just something I did for community service but I still liked it. It wasn't until this summer when I began to realize that my nonchalant attitude needed to change: God put me here with these girls for a reason, and he wants me to put my best into it. I've come to look forward to our Friday night studies rather than thinking of them as just another 2-hour weekly church function. I've developed real relationships with the girls and I will sincerely miss them in college. The time I spent with the girls tonight— going out for Super Taqueria, having fellowship, reading the Word, and making brownies together— was more fulfilling than many of the social events I've gone to where the conversation is shallow and the relationships fake.

On Wednesday, which was my last Code Red (the middle school youth group), the youth pastor opened up the time for the kids to pray for each other. Several girls prayed for me and thanked God for putting me in their lives. It was one of the most meaningful moments I've ever experienced— knowing I had made a difference in their lives. I felt like I had done something that mattered, something that would last beyond my time on earth. I say this not to brag, but to emphasize that doing something for the kingdom of God far surpasses anything I've accomplished in school, swimming, or anything else.

I spend so much time and energy doing things that won't even matter in a few years. Why do I so often forget about the only Kingdom that will last?

My Husband?

I used to scoff at the exhortations from Christian writers and leaders regarding satisfaction in God's love alone— to crown Christ the "Prince" of my heart instead of a human Prince Charming, to make God my first love, to apply that seemingly sacrilegious verse in Isaiah about my "Maker being [my] husband" (54:5). Yes, it was nice in theory to be satisfied in God's love and not in a man's. But how unrealistic. I can't see God. I can't feel his arms around me. I've never received a bouquet of wildflowers with a "Love, Jesus" tag written in cursive. He can't sit next to me and watch the ducks at the pond.

Yet lately the cliches have met reality. No, I haven't literally seen the face of God. But I see more and more of his incomparable beauty in my morning quiet times. No, I haven't physically felt his arms. But I leaned on the everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33:27) when I had to have a difficult confrontation with someone at church. No, a bouquet hasn't mysteriously appeared at my doorstep. But I've yet to find a guy that can create anything close to the beauty of the Milky Way stretched across the vast night sky, complete with shooting stars. And the rest of the world might not have seen him, but Jesus was at Community Park the other day. I know because we were having a discussion about his justice and mercy.

It's not so much that Jesus is "my boyfriend" or "the love of my life" that gives me butterflies and mushy feelings when I think about him; it's that knowing and seeking and loving him makes everything in this world that I longed for and believed would give my life significance pale in comparison to his unrivaled beauty.

Why was I so impressed with men again? Oh yeah, I'm probably going to marry one someday. Well until then, I'm content to be the "unmarried woman that cares about the things of the Lord" (1 Corinthians 7:34).

Papa or Yahweh

Remember The Shack? It seemed that our generation of Christians had found its C.S. Lewis, based on the reactions in churches and my school (MV paid a small fortune to bring the great William Young himself to our humble campus in Watsonville). God made sense. The trinity was understandable. Our deepest fears of God were debunked and our selfish hopes confirmed. Jesus was not, in fact, the only way to God. God the Father was also a mother. And black. God wants us to be happy. Enough of this nonsense about considering trials joy and being refined like silver. The nature of the Trinity was equality, not hierarchy. Our postmodern ideals that simplified God into what we wanted— completely human, maternal, tolerant— were theologically confirmed.

Or were they? Young claims he did not intend for his book to be read as theology, but surely he foresaw the impact its publishing would have in Christians' and non-Christians' understanding of the triune God. Sure, he can defend the work by reminding us that he wrote it to give his kids a more understandable picture of God. And therein lies the problem. He reduces God to an oversimplified and completely human god that is on trial.

Young paints the Trinity in utterly unbiblical form. He suggests that there is no headship within the Trinity; hierarchy is nonexistent and unnecessary. However, in 1 Corinthians Paul writes that "the head of Christ is God" (11:3). Young reduces all three Persons of the Trinity to human form; in fact Jesus is the only Member to take on flesh. He portrays God the Father as a mother; though God has no gender, Scripture repeatedly refers to Him in solely masculine terms (Father).

The most dangerous and arguably heretical idea that Young presents is God's willingness to accept Mack's unabashed approach in questioning His ways. Job has similar questions about the problem of evil after tragedy strikes him; in four beautiful, poetic, powerful chapters God declares essentially that He is God and Job is man; Job therefore has no right to question God's ways and authority (Job 38-41). Unlike God's response in Job, Papa's response accepts Mack's question as appropriate and answerable. God is not the defendant; He has nothing to prove. We are on trial; we have been found guilty of sin. If we look onto Jesus as our Savior, we will be found innocent; regardless, we, not God, are up for questioning. God made us. We lack the authority to challenge His sovereignty.

"Who are you to reply against God? Will the thing formed say to him who formed it, 'Why have you made me like this?' " ~Romans 9:20

Only through Jesus' sacrifice are we able to approach the throne of grace with confidence (Hebrews 4:16). And even then, we like Isaiah, ought to throw ourselves prostrate, unworthy to be in His glorious presence:

"Woe is me, for I am undone!

Because I am a man of unclean lips,

And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips;

For my eyes have seen the King,

The LORD of hosts."

~Isaiah 6:5

Will we choose to know God as the sovereign, holy, divine, triune God of the Bible that offers humanity eternal life through the death of His Son? Or of the jolly, carefree, tolerant, sentimental woman of The Shack that gives offers humanity license to sin?

Take your pick.

What Women (and Men) Want

"Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."

~C.S. Lewis

Fire and Water

She is lovely and

I would like to see her face again.

She lives with wonder; she sings with grace

A hundred tragedies, her faith unmoved

She laughs like an angel

She speaks with loving honesty

She works with sincere diligence

She thinks deeply, compassionately

Spontaneous dancing to invisible music

Hope is written on her face

Freedom woven into her body

Redemption sewed into her soul.

Children, the elderly, the retarded— none escape her

grace

A river of joy gushes from her voice, drips from her words

I want to move to her hometown the Wedding Feast

Laughter unity celebration serenity—

Not for a weekend but a lifetime

Beautiful, restored Zion.

Nice Try

So this is my first attempt at a stream-of-consciousness piece.

I basically just wrote all the things that came to mind, omitting sensory details.

First of all, I admit it was very hard to make this decision.

Have you ever tried to recreate the Promised Land by drinking milk and eating honey?

It's such a struggle for me; honestly every day it's like a battle.

It's amazing how certain people seems so together and high in society but then act like kids.

God made Eve first then Adam and told her he was good in bed and could open jars and was sometimes funny, but Eve had to let him believe he was made first. (Not mine!)

I have a love/hate relationship with spending money.

Why do girls talk so much?

The last time I watched a movie I could have sworn it paused and restarted itself to accommodate my intermittent cat naps.

Why do people think that when two guys are close friends they must be gay?

He flipped me off and I wasn't even in his way.

Why does she always bring up the fact that she does not, in fact, want a bigger house?

Do you ever friend someone, then look through your wall and imagine their interpretations of each post?

She can't figure out why the feminist professor hates her.

People are such hypocrites about tattoos.

I usually don't think redheads are attractive. He's the only exception

You wouldn't believe me, but then you realized I was right— it's hilarious!

Some people like to speak with their heads in the clouds. Theoretically, that is.

Who pays attention to jawlines?

Oh, celibacy! Jesuit colleges rock!

I don't text at night anymore.

Do you ever say something just for the heck of it?

I am not like the girl in "The Ugly Truth."

Is it better to be fast and miserable or slow and content?

I've tried to imagine myself solemnly recalling my "attempted" suicide in an "exciting" testimony.

Do I really need to give everything I have to the poor? Because then I'd have to walk around naked.

Monte Vista needs more down-to-earth teachers.

The pickle jar label says pickles have no calories. And I digested a huge gust of wind

She wants to spend time with me! Makes you feel important

My dad says he likes seeing pretty girls hanging out with homely girls because it shows they're actually friends.

I couldn't wait to turn 16 so I could sing "I Am Sixteen Going on Seventeen."

I don't miss preschool. We had to pop balloons so I cried.

Why do they make dead bodies look pretty?

Don't look into his eyes. He looks into your soul and knows your eternal destination.

I don't hate him. My respect for him simply diminished considerably.

Mark Labberton's book makes me feel guilty for drinking Starbucks.

There must be a way to be exempt from complacency.

Idealism and Facebook are incompatible.

I hope my art history class is interesting.

I talk about him a lot. And no I don't have an Oedipus complex.

Eating lunch alone sucks.