Blessed are the poor in spirit

Two-by-four, head; head, two-by-four. So nice to see you two getting reacquainted. Mind you keep the plank away from the eye.

This week has been an interesting one, insofar as Bible stuff goes. Wednesday I went to a study which was going over Luke 7, the week after it went over Luke 6. The sermon this morning was on Luke 4, with Jesus reading from Isaiah at Nazareth. See if you can find some subtle similarity among these various verses emphasized from those passages:

"Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. [...] But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort." Luke 6:20, 24

"Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor." Luke 7:22

"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will live him more?[...] I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven - for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little." Luke 7:41-42, 47

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." Luke 4:18-19

These are most of the verses that got any emphasis from the various lessons. All lessons pointed out that in these passages, financial poverty is not the issue; spiritual poverty is. All lessons pointed out as well that when we do not recognize ourselves as being the poor, we're deceiving ourselves and deceiving ourselves out of the gift of grace into the bargain.

I always have to wonder how God defines this recognition. I'm a pretty bright girl; I can look at my life and figure out objectively that I don't measure up to God's standard. Do I feel impoverished? No. There are a couple verses that I always feel are tailor-made for me:

Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
-Isaiah 55:1-2

You say, "I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing." But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.
-Revelation 3:17-18

I'm pretty good about rejoicing in my blessings, but also pretty good at ignoring anything that makes me uncomfortable. This includes my own shortcomings. I know they're there, but I'm enjoying my material, mental and emotional riches even when I'm aware that my spiritual debts have reached an all-time high.

So, here's a puzzler: how does a girl learn to become greedy for spiritual riches while still enjoying contentment in other areas? Better figure out the right answer soon, because I think God may be trying to send me a subtle little message with these lessons.

Inside out and upside down

"Thou art my beloved Son; in thee I am well pleased." - Luke 3:21 KJV

"The LORD hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee." -Psalm 2:7

"Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth..." - Isaiah 42:1

My study NIV has failed to mention the connection between the first verse and the second two. This is what sermons are good for, pointing out connections.

We spend a lot of time these days worrying about self-esteem, self-respect, etc, and with good reason. There seems to be an inherent poverty in the human soul, a persistent belief in our own meanness, our insignificance in the universe. How many people really believe, in their heart of hearts, that they deserve any good thing? If I were REALLY known, we think, it would be impossible for anyone to love me.

Of course, most of us know this isn't our biggest problem. Our biggest problem is that we tend to think too well of ourselves. Maybe because we feel insignificant, we feel a need to impress others (and ourselves) with our strength, our wisdom, our intelligence, our power. Low self-esteem? That's the last thing I need to worry about. My besetting sin is pride, didn't you know that? That's WHY I'm so unlovable. I'm one of those bloody Pharisees, completely on top of the world, nowhere to go but down.

The two messages seem conflicting, but they obviously work well in tandem: I'm worthless, so I'd better go increase/show off my worth, but the fact that I'm doing that shows how worthless I am, etc. There's a phrase oft repeated in my church which applies here: "It's a lie from the pit of Hell, and it smells like smoke."

The thing is, God has told each of us that we are His beloved children. If we are Christians ("little Christs"), then the words of Psalm 2 and Luke 3 apply to us as well. "Your are my son; today I have become your Father. Ask of me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession," he invites us. I know, it's hard to believe in good news without strings attached - especially for those long in the Church, which seems to fear that preaching grace to the saved will result in orgiastic sin and chaos. You and I are God's creation, His pearl of great price, His beloved bride, His sons and heirs. This, not poverty, is our natural state, the inheritence which is ours since creation began.

But if we are Christians ("little Christs"), then the words of Isaiah and Luke 3 apply to us as well. "Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight." We are called to be servants, to be willing to demean ourselves before others, not despite our inheritance but because of it. We should have an outlook "the same as that of Christ Jesus: who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant" (Philippians 2:5-7).

I think this is some of the foolishness of God that Paul talks about in I Corinthians 1:20-30. It's foolishness to ask people to give up their rights, to let themselves be pushed around, to place others above themselves. It's all very well in moderation, but really! There are limits.

Perhaps there are limits. I don't believe God asks women to wait hand and foot upon a husband whose idea of marriage is to keep wives barefoot, pregnant and thoroughly battered. I don't believe God asks men to sit idly in slavery and oppression, fawning at the feet of the oppressor, reveling in captivity. But I think God does call for submission nearly as radical. When someone takes your cloak, give your coat as well. If someone makes you carry something a mile, go the extra mile for them. In Christ there is neither slave nor free, but we should be willing to take on thankless tasks for one another even to the point of servility. We should give of ourselves, our time, and our money lavishly and with joy. This is not because we're worthless, because we deserve slavery, but because we are princes and princesses who have something to give, something which is needed.

Humans are inherently worthless, and should therefore work hard and push for their rights to achieve worth and recognition, to gain the acknowledgement of the masses. Humans are inherently priceless, and therefore can afford to work hard without pushing for rights, without human recognition or acknowledgement, with nothing but a "well done, good and faithful servant." If one of these ideas is true, the other is completely inside out and upside down.

Contentment

...is a nice cup of tea, a good book, family around, and the smell of homemade cinnamon raisin bread baking in the oven.

Actually, the first is contentment, the first two happiness, the first three joy, and the last alone is ecstacy. Having a father who's an amateur baker is a definite plus. I'm never moving.

When I'm depressed, I find myself worrying that depression is simply my natural state of being. My writing usually reinforces this impression; I'm at my most articulate when describing the soul-baring anguish of despair. It's easy to come away convinced that happiness isn't meant for me, that such snatches of freedom and joy are only brief highlights. It reminds me of one of the most poignant passages in the book Return of the King. Sam and Frodo are in Mordor, driven to despair and ready to give up. Sam remarks that if he were in front of Galadriel again, he wouldn't ask for anything fancy - just water and sunlight, two things sorely lacking in the hobbits' journey. Suddenly, the clouds part, and a sunbeam illuminates a stream the hobbits had missed. That's how my happiness seems, sometimes - a rare moment of brilliance in the midst of despair, just enough to continue the arduous journey of life.

But this is worth chronicling. Firelight and tea, cinnamon bread, family, laughter. A week in which I got two afternoons off. A good book just completed. For the better part of this week, I've been enjoying a peace and happiness at least as strong and inexplicable as any depression I've experienced. God provides moments of extravagant grace here, and if that's all I need to reach Mount Doom and gain passage into the West, that's what I'll take.

Thread Breaks

At the moment, I'm earning my daily bread in an embroidery shop. It's nice working with my hands after working with my brain all through college, but some days make me want to scream.

Like today. Our embroidery is done with some marvelous computer-run machines which, once set up, are supposed to run automatically through the intricate patterns to produce yet another stunning work of art (or, more often, simple logo or monogram). The worker, in theory, goes about her business setting up the next run, doing small chores, etc while the machine plugs away. The only thing which can stop this beautiful process is a thread break. I leave it to the reader to imagine how rare this event is in this age of miraculous technology.

Today we got to run a 43,000-stitch design. This is about ten times as long as a typical design - tricky to start with, because the machines are more prone to thread breaks the longer they run. (Not that I'm implying that these marvelous machines ever have thread breaks.) This is, however, doable; we ran this design on Friday in under an hour. So it's time to make it more challenging, and do it on a leather vest! Leather is about the least embroidery-friendly substance in the known world, at least out of the things anyone would ever consider embroidering. (And I'm an expert on that list. Our customers have had us embroidering everything from car covers to interesting segments of men's boxers.) And just in case we might get bored, the design would run right over two seams on the back of the vest - seams done blue jean style, only thicker because of the leather. The needles almost burst themselves with, er, joy.

But how many thread breaks? you ask, being too clever to be fooled by my bitter sarcasm. How many thread breaks? I lost count. But to give you an idea how this was running... well, I said we got to do this "today." In reality, we started this thing at 1:30 PM on Friday. At 4:45, it was a little over halfway done, and I was nearly stark raving mad. How many thread breaks? I must remember to ask the marvelous computer that was running the machine. Given that the average time to fix a thread break is 2 minutes, and the average running time between thread breaks was 20 seconds, it ought to be mathematically possible to figure it out right now. Even so, it was running better than today: the last third took from 9:30 AM to 1:00 PM.

By the end, my biggest peeve was not the thread breaks. I understood that the leather was tricky (and probably sticky, from the point of view of a rapidly running machine). What drove me mad was the machine's attempt to take care of them itself. It would detect a thread break and stop immediately - even if the thread break was nonexistent, or something that would quickly take care of itself if the machine would run through it. At other times, I would watch the thread fray to nothing before my eyes, and yet the machine would keep running, determined to make it work. In either case, I would have to back the machine up and make it do twice as much work to make up the mixed-up section. Sometimes, the tangled mess would fray the thread still more, and I'd have to redo a section three, five, ten times.

Being the wonderfully spiritual obsessively analogizing person I am, I distracted myself by trying to find Great Lessons in the mess. It started out seeming obvious: Listen to the operator. However smart your programming might be, however adjustable you might be, you will be wrong often enough that the operator's opinion ought always to come first. And ignoring that will lead to a lot of mess, and a lot of fuss that could be avoided the second the operator is heeded. Good good. Excellent idea. Then I realized the analogy breaks down at the point where the operator feels an intense desire to take a sledgehammer to the whole operation after a certain point. And especially when the operator starts hating the whole business. I don't think God's patience is so finite.

So, make of it what you will. I will settle on spiritual warfare. Demonic interference is the only explanation for the machine managing to get still worse when I started humming "It Is Well With My Soul." They're out to get me, I tell you.