Follow by Email

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Chapter 4: Abraham

“Far be it from Thee to do such a thing,
to slay the righteous and the wicked,
so that the righteous and the wicked are treated alike.
Far be it from Thee!
Shall not the Judge of all the earth deal justly?”
(Gen 18:25)

            Rachel Snowden.  She was the one who had fought with her brother the morning of the Abraham lesson.  The one who had had violated Mr. Casey’s number one rule, bring your Bible.  But she had still be graced with more mercy than Jasmine that day.  Fifth grade was now pouring back to Jasmine.  How could she have forgotten it?  Not just forgotten it, but buried it.  Now the memories roared back to her like a waterfall.  The year had started bad with Noah and it never got better. 
            That Jasmine really liked Mr. Casey, her Sunday school teacher, made it most upsetting.  He was the teacher who started both the Summer Lunch Program, for which Jasmine volunteered, and the Bibles for Everyone project, which he shortened to “BE” and punned with the project’s motto: “To BE, you need a Bible!”  Every few years, the church held a benefit to raise funds for Bibles for the sanctuary, all the classrooms, and for every member, third grade on up.  Mr. Casey’s love for kids and his commitment to projects like BE made him so popular everyone called him Mr. C.
The week after Jasmine destroyed the Noah lesson, Mr. C’s fifth grade class moved to the next “favored by God” hero of the Bible: Abraham.  In the spirit of “BE,” every fifth grader knew the rule: bring your Bible.  But that morning, Rachel’s little brother had thrown a fit that morning, and she and her family raced out quickly to make it to church on time – but without her Bible.  Mr. Casey gave her his distinctive scowl: part scowl with head set away from us, nose crunched, forehead wrinkled, eyelids squinted, and his eyes cast as side eyes staring at us out of the corner, and part tease with a faint smile.  Since he really liked Rachel, his faint smile turned to a wide grin while he pulled one of the classroom Bibles and gave it to her.
“John, you were the first in your class today to successfully recite your memory verse, so if you’d like, you can start today’s scripture reading, Genesis 18.”  John quietly nodded.  It would have been rude to refuse such a kind offer, but John didn’t look like he was much in the mood to read.  “Read as far as you like,” Mr. C continued, “and then I’ll take it from there, ok?”  John nodded, read the first two verses, then looked up to Mr. C, and nodded again.  “Verse 3,” began Mr. C, “He said, ‘If I have found favor in your eyes, my lord, do not pass your servant by.”  Mr. C emphasized the words “found favor” and paused before continuing.  He gazed through the room, looking at each of his students to re-emphasize last week’s lesson that Noah had “found favor” with the Lord. His eyes sparkled as if to say, “Do you, too, wish to find favor with the Lord?”  Jasmine caught no look of scorn or contempt from him, but the same gaze that he gave to each of his students.  He’s forgotten last week, or, at least, he’s let it go.  Everything will be okay.
            Mr. C continued to the verse he had selected for the week’s memory verse, Genesis 18:18-19: “Abraham will surely become a great and powerful nation, and all nations on earth will be blessed through him.  For I have chosen him, so that he will direct his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is right and just, so that the Lord will bring about for Abraham what he has promised him.”
            “Teachable moment,” Mr. C interrupted, applying one of his favorite phrases. “What have you learned so far?”  “Abraham must have been a very great man!” Francine declared.  Jasmine’s heart was bursting to share her answer: “Abraham’s going to become a nation!  That’s cool!”  But, still too timid to speak up, she remained quiet.  She wished later she had spoken up.  Mr. C would have approved.
            At verse 23 Jasmine’s heart stopped.  The class had just read that Sodom and Gomorrah and sinned greatly and that the Lord was about to punish them just as greatly.  Then, in verse 23, Abraham stood up to God!  “Then Abraham approached him and said: ‘Will you sweep away the righteous with the wicked?  What if there are fifty righteous people in the city?  Will you really sweep it away and not spare the place for the sake of the fifty righteous people in it?” (Gen 18:23-24).  Jasmine’s heart was bursting.  Go Abraham!  She stood breathless, waiting for Mr. C to pause, to take a moment to capture this amazing teachable moment.  Abraham truly did deserve to become a nation!
            But he didn’t pause.  He continued, and the story got even better.  “Far be it from you to do such a thing – to kill the righteous with the wicked, treating the righteous and the wicked alike.  Far be it from you!  Will not the Judge of all the earth do right?”  Wow.  Abraham really spoke up to God!  Tingles ran up and down Jasmine’s spine with excitement that this great hero of the Bible, who “found favor,” who was promised to become a “nation” stood up boldly with the Creator of the Heavens and Earth!
            Now Jasmine was bursting for him to pause.  This moment was much too “teachable” to miss.  Abraham was showing himself to be a very great man.  He was standing up for the people to God Himself.  All for the sake of righteousness.  He was even calling God into righteousness.  Abraham was her new hero.
            Mr. C still didn’t stop, and the story still kept getting better.  God listened to Abraham!  Mr. C continued onto verse 26: “The Lord said, ‘If I find fifty righteous people in the city of Sodom, I will spar the whole place for their sake.”  Wow, Abraham had just bartered with God, and God agreed.  Jasmine would have stopped right there, soaking in her victory.  But Abraham didn’t.  Abraham was really bold.  He asked if God would spare it for forty-five, and God agreed He would; then Abraham asked if he’d spare it for forty, and God agreed He would; then Abraham bargained for thirty, then twenty, then ten.  God even agreed to spare the city for ten righteous people – because Abraham asked him to.
            Jasmine sat in her seat wide-eyed and stunned.  What if Noah had done that?  Would God have not drowned the world if Noah had asked God to spare it for a few righteous  people? 
            Throughout the remarkable conclusion of the chapter, Mr. C never paused, never took a “teachable moment.”  Now with the chapter read, the time had come to discuss it.  Mr. C began with boring questions: Who were the characters involved in this passage?  The students filled out the cast: Abraham, Sarah, the mysterious three men, and all the sinful people of Sodom and Gomorrah.  Then he asked about the sinful people.  What might have made them sinful?  Jasmine was impatient.  When would they talk about Abraham standing up to God?  But her classmates played along and cited some ways the cities might have been sinful: greedy, drinking too much, being lustful, stealing, and so forth.
Finally Mr. C asked a real question: “What made Abraham different from the people of Sodom and Gomorrah?”  Still silent, not wanting to make any mistakes before Mr. Casey, Jasmine couldn’t wait for one of her classmates to answer this question.  But their replies were mindless.  “He gave hospitality,” said Francine, “by treating those three mysterious men to a meal.”  “Very good, Francine,” replied Mr. C, “I bet many of the people of Sodom and Gomorrah wouldn’t have done that.”  “He washed their feet!” added Rachel.  “No one in Sodom and Gomorrah would have done that!”  Again, Mr. C smiled and nodded.  “Good point, Rachel!  Washing feet was considered a very special blessing, and in those days, people’s feet were very dirty, so many people did not offer a service so special.”  “They didn’t have shoes like ours!” cried John, “and they didn’t have showers like we have.  Think how stinky their feet were!”  Then all the kids started laughing hard, thinking about how stinky the feet were.
Jasmine laughed too, but she was still bursting.  What about Abraham standing up to God?  None of them said anything like that, and Mr. C wrapped it up.  “Well on that note of stinky feet, let's remember the story by drawing a picture."  He pulled out paper and colored pencils and suggested the scene of Abraham showing hospitality.  Jasmine couldn’t stand it any longer.  “How about Abraham standing up to God?”  Mr. C looked at her quizzically, and she added, “Isn’t that what really sets Abraham apart from the people of Sodom and Gomorrah?  He stood up to God?  He asked God to be righteous?”
Mr. C was flummoxed.  Jasmine had just single-handedly ruined his lesson again.  The very next week.  She had been silent throughout the entire lesson.  And now she had just ruined another lesson.  “No, Jasmine, Abraham was different because he was righteous and the people of the two cities were sinful.”  He shook his head and then walked to pick up some colored pens.  “Now, why don’t you draw the scene of Abraham giving hospitality to the three men?”
Jasmine couldn’t bring herself to draw that scene.  There was only one scene that made her burst with excitement: Abraham negotiating with God.  She drew God as a great, big fluffy cloud and Abraham looking up to him with one of his arms  raised up. She added a speech bubble with Abraham saying, “How about 10?” and a speech bubble from the cloud that said, “OK.”  Mr. C looked at her picture and shook his head.  She knew what he was thinking.  She was “just like Eve.”

Thursday, June 21, 2018

Chapter 3: Does a Beer do Anything to Tempt a Guy?

The Alley, at Glendale Racquet Club

            “Do you think a beer does anything to tempt a guy?”  Jasmine is wistful, looking at the next table over.  Mindy, Jasmine’s tennis partner, sitting next to her, looks over to the small round table with three twenty-something racquetball players drinking beer, and teases, “Sure!  It begs, ‘Drink me, please!’”  Jasmine rebukes herself for asking such a curious question.  She’s been so careful, especially at church, and, even more especially, at Glendale.  Until now.  What if they figure out what she’s referring to?  Or, worse, whom?  Their laughter, thankfully, suggests they haven’t.
 “’Drink me now!’” Mindy continues, “It cries out from the bottom shelf in the refrigerator!”  “Next to the orange juice!” Gabbi pipes in.  “That’s exactly it!” Kristina exclaims, “I even ask my boyfriend, ‘why isn’t the orange juice begging you to drink it?’ ‘Nah,’ he says, ‘Only the beer can talk to me!’”  As her three friends break into peals of laughter, Jasmine sighs relief they don’t appear to be on to her.  “And nothing’s ever their fault!” Gabbi continues.  “No, of course not,” says Kristina.  “Can I tell you my latest with my boyfriend?”  Please.  Jasmine hopes her face won’t show her urgency to change the subject.  As Kristina begins to share a story about her cat and her boyfriend, the waitress arrives with their pop, ready to take their lunch orders. Whew!  That was close.
Gabbi and Kristina are Jasmine and Mindy’s favorite opponents.  The foursome can usually be found at The Alley, Glendale Racquet Club’s sports bar, for brunch on Saturday, after a close match of tennis.  All four joined Glendale the same year, quickly discovered they make an ideal competitive match, and became fast friends.  None of Jasmine’s tennis friends attends Quail Canyon Community Church, nor for that matter, does anyone that she or her mixed doubles partner Davie know of.  They had both agreed to be on the look-out at Glendale, and at church, for anyone who might frequent both places.  Amazingly, as far as they knew, they were the only two who were members of both Glendale and Quail Canyon.  Jasmine prays this is still the case, or she’ll surely be found out -- especially with mistakes like that.  She wonders if it’s okay to make such a prayer.
Mindy attends a Methodist church; Gabbi calls herself a “typical Catholic,” meaning she never goes to Mass; and Kristina keeps her distance from all things church.    Reflecting on Kristina’s anti-church views, Jasmine is almost tempted to make another “mistake.”  Early in their friendship, when Jasmine first mentioned her attendance at Quail Canyon, Kristina replied, “I like Jesus.  But I don’t like church.”  She discounted her need to attend with a cliché phrase Jasmine had heard before: “My relationship with Jesus is a personal thing.”  Whenever Jasmine hears people say that, she rolls her eyes, thinks it’s a cop-out, and isn’t about to trust their “relationship with Jesus” could be too “personal.”
But Kristina’s story is complicated.  She had probably caught Jasmine rolling her eyes, so she took the chance to share her story.  Kristina was raised in what she calls “an ultra fundamentalist church,” strict home, and was homeschooled through elementary school.  She’d have been homeschooled all the way, just like her two older siblings, had she not “taken the matter into her own hands.”  For middle school, she had made up her mind: either she would refuse to do any of the homeschool work her mother assigned to her, or she would attend a regular school and work hard for good grades.  To her parents’ credit, they agreed to the latter and enrolled her in a private Christian school.  Kristina would have preferred the local public school, but the compromise was fair, and she more than kept her end of the deal, graduating Salutatorian from The Springs Christian High.  As proud as she was of her academic achievement, Kristina says she’s more proud of her real challenge: pretending all through school that she gave her whole heart to Jesus Christ, her Lord and Savior. “If church makes me ‘love him with my whole heart,’ he won’t get my whole heart.”  At that, Kristina looked up to the sky and said, “Sorry, Jesus!  Hope you understand!”  Jasmine smiled, “I bet He does.”  “Thanks,” said Kristina, “Too bad my parents don’t.”
Jasmine knew Kristina would understand her story too.  Maybe too much.  Wishing not to get scarred by Kristina’s cynicism, she resisted her temptation to spill the beans.  She pondered whether she could still “love Jesus with her whole heart” and not go to church.  She had been willing to trust the possibility for Kristina, but for no one else, least of all herself.  Now she was seeing it in a new way.  Could it be possible for her too?  Could she hold a strong bond with Jesus away from church?   
Jasmine found herself surprisingly pleased that she was about to find out.  Even her husband Tim had taken the news admirably.  Sure, he was dismayed, and she was working to regain his trust, but Jasmine was grateful he was secure enough within himself he wasn’t letting her indiscretion ruin their marriage.  Nor was he even upset with Davie.  He admitted he was a little flattered the youth pastor had taken a liking to his wife.  When she reported to him the order of her exit, he replied, “Isn’t this between us?  You, me, David, and his wife Pam?  Why does the church have to get into  it?” 
“Because David’s on their staff.”
“OK, so they can check in, but they don’t have to kick you out, do they?” 
“I don’t think so.”
“Her I’m the one who should be mad, and they’re the ones over-reacting.  I didn’t know our church was run by such jerks!” 
Jasmine was startled.  She had never heard her husband talk like that about anyone, least of all church leaders.  He had always respected them, and now he was red in the face and calling them names.  She had been sweating over what his reaction to her news would be, and she had imagined anger like that, but directed at her, not them.  Now she was silently smirking that he was instead enraged at the church.  Could the church’s harsh treatment have helped to deflect her husband’s anger against her?  If the eviction had been a favor, a chance to find out first hand if she could “love Jesus without going to church,” and even a deflection of her husband’s anger, then why was she still so bothered by it? 
It really wasn’t the blackball that mattered.  It was the implication gushing out of the elder’s words, tone, body language, and aura.  It was his “prayer” that wasn’t in any way a real one.  That prayer disturbed Jasmine so much she replayed it like one of those unshakable radio jingles, and she had the interaction and the prayer fully memorized.
“Don’t return to this church or contact Pastor David ever again,” commanded John Prager, the head elder.  Jasmine could almost hear his thoughts: How does this happen and why am I stuck with the job of dealing with it?  She was tempted to reply: Because you signed up to be an elder?  And accountability is what elders are called to do?  Instead, Jasmine took the safe road: “I came here to ask for accountability.  I thought I would be receiving prayer.”   The elder smiled, “Don’t worry.  We’ll keep you accountable.  You did the right thing by coming to us.  Just stay away from church, make no contact with David, and you’ll be just fine.”
Then, to placate her, he put his hands on her and prayed.  But in place of a prayer of thanksgiving for taking a wise course to move forward in truth, love, and purity, it was quite a different sort of prayer.  “Our Father in Heaven, thank You for bringing this young lady to us.  We pray You will forgive her.  In the Name of Your Son, help her to flee youthful lusts.  Cleanse her heart, purify her mind, and transform her by the renewing of her mind.  Thank You for your great mercy upon this repentant sinner, Lord.  Amen.”
Mr. Prager – she had always known him as “John,” but Mr. Prager seemed more appropriate now – shook his head, sighed, shook his head again, and muttered, “Women.  Always the thorn.  Always the tempters.  I'm sure that was St. Paul’s thorn – women.”  Why was he assuming she had tempted him?  Does a beer do anything to tempt a guy?  If a guy’s tempted to drink, do they call up the beer can, look sternly in judgment at that can, and tell that beer can where it can no longer go? 
Why hadn't she had the courage to ask that question of the church elder?  No, like a wimp, she stood there silent.  The elder then looked at her and spoke the last words she had heard spoken by anyone at Quail Canyon:  “You’re just like Eve.”  

Thursday, May 3, 2018

Chapter 2: He's betting on your passion

I hadn’t set out to teach fifth grade.  It happened like everything else in my life: by following a detour sign.  I followed a detour sign to my husband.  I followed a detour sign to Davie.  I followed a detour sign to teach fifth grade.

My dream was to teach high school drama and direct the high school’s show.  Of course, most high schools offer only one or two theater or drama classes, so the drama teacher also teaches English.  I thought I had hit Lady Luck with a high school gig of drama, musical theater, three sophomore English classes, and Theater Director.  Theater Director came with a little extra pay.  But that was just for the two main performances.  Little did I realize how much more it involved.

Overwhelmed with grading essays proving the cliché true – Johnny really can’t write – running the theater program, and taking on an abundance of “optional” extra performances, I finally had a face-to-face with our Principal.  “You could skip the cameos at the middle schools, the community centers, and even the Performing Arts Center your predecessors so diligently worked to set up,” he said, “but you might not recruit enough students and you might lose funding for the drama program.” 

“That doesn’t sound ‘optional.’  Can my pay be increased for this not-quite-optional ‘optional’ work?” 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Greene, it can’t,” he replied.  He never calls me “Mrs. Greene.”   “We welcome and encourage your choice to continue the extra commitments developed by your predecessors, but we don’t require it, and we don’t have the funding to pay for it.” 

“So let's say I skip the optional extras and we lose students and funding?”  “You need at least fifteen students in each drama class to keep it.  If you fall below that, we’ll cut the drama class, and if you lose funding, you either work on an extra low budget or do some fundraising.” 

“Doesn’t the school want to make sure that doesn’t happen?” 

“We hope not, but don’t worry, you’ll still have a job with us if it does.”  He added with a smile, “we have plenty of English classes that need a teacher.”

Then it came.  A whisper of mystery.  On occasion, and never when I’m expecting it, a whisper comes – one not from my own mind with a message from a frequency off my radar.  The voice is soft and feminine, but who, I know not. When one comes, I call it a “whisper of mystery.”   I’ve learned not to tell too many people about them.  Even Christians who should believe in the Holy Spirit sometimes don’t trust my whispers.  They can’t discern the Holy Spirit from less trustworthy voices in their own heads, so they think I can’t either.  The Bible gives us a clue, though, in I Kings 19:11-13, when Elijah needed to discern the voice of the Lord.  The Lord was not in the wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire; He was, instead, “in a still small voice.”  Those loud, commanding voices we sometimes hear in our heads are probably not the Holy Spirit.  But if we hear “a still small voice” that is loving and nudges us into a loving direction, then we should do what Elijah did: wrap our face in a mantle and come listen to the Lord.  Some people would still say, “Well, that was Elijah, a great Hebrew prophet.  You’re not Elijah.”  So I’ve learned to keep the whispers of mystery to myself and share them only with people I can trust.  I hope I can trust you because my story’s not the same without the whisper of mystery that arrived in my conversation with the principal at that moment:  He’s betting on your passion.

I knew this was a whisper I should trust.  They’ve come since I was a little girl, and one of them saved my life.  I was eight.  My family and few other families from our church went camping by a lake.  A few people brought inner tubes and we took turns riding in them along the lake.  Off a ways, the lake narrowed and became more like a river, but it was still a gentle river, still safe, or so I thought.  When it was my turn, I was with two other kids, both older than me, twelve, and friends.  So I was a tag-along, and they left me trailing behind them.  I thought I was still following them when I reached the part that narrowed into the river. The water was so refreshing, the sky so blue, and the air so fresh from last night’s rain, I didn’t mind they left me alone.  I stretched out in my inner tube floating down the river.  Then a whisper of mystery came: Hang off to the right.  Get out by that tree.  By then, I knew the whisper and she was already my friend, but she irritated me with this instruction.  I didn’t want to get out yet.  I wanted to keep floating, but I thought since no one knew where I was, I could get out and then take my inner tube up a bit and get back in, so I obeyed her.  When I made it out and to the tree, I saw what lay before me about thirty yards ahead on the river: the start of a rocky, whitewater adventure I would never have been prepared for; then, another eighty to hundred yards beyond that came the nightmare scene: a waterfall.  Why hadn’t they told me there was a waterfall?! 

“Jazzie!  Jazzie!  Where are you?!”  I turned back and saw my dad racing toward me and I called back, “I’m here, Dad!  I’m okay!”  He raced to me like a sprinter at the finish line, picked me up, twirled me around, hugged me so hard I almost lost my breath, planted a big kiss on my cheek, and then hugged me again.  Then he let the two twelve year olds give me a hug too.  Their faces were pale, ghost--like, and one of them, head bowed, croaked, “We are so sorry,” and the other one nodded, head also down, eyes big, and face white.  I nodded, “I’m okay.”  Dad looked at them and said, “I hope you two have learned a lot from this,” and they both nodded back.  The first one spoke up again, “Jazzie gets our s’mores tonight. We are really sorry.”

I ate four s’mores that evening.  Then, lying in my sleeping bag, listening to the crickets and reviewing the image of the waterfall, I prayed thanks all night long to my whisper of mystery.  “I promise,” I vowed to her, “I will always listen to you.”

I’ve kept my promise too, and even if that was the only time she actually saved my life, she’s saved me in lots of ways lots of times.  So I knew I needed to listen to her.  What did she mean? He’s betting on your passion?  Like most of her messages, I was mystified by the meaning and had to puzzle it over.  The principle’s last words were expressed with simple objectivity and a smile, “We have plenty of English classes that need a teacher.”  He spoke it as if he didn’t care one way or another if we lost the drama program.  So, whisper, are you telling me he does want the drama program?  Anytime I call for the whisper, she doesn’t come.  She comes only when I’m not expecting her, and whenever she feels like it, so I knew she wouldn’t answer my question, but that doesn’t stop me from asking.  I turned it over in my mind again: He’s betting on your passion.  He must want the drama program, and he wants me to do everything in my power to make it strong.  He’s “betting on my passion" that I will do just that.  He doesn’t want to pay me.  He wants my passion to pay me.  Maybe my passion should say “no”?

A week later, my husband came home from work where he works as a Child Protective Services case worker, across the street from Jefferson Elementary School.  He often joins some of the teachers at lunch at the Crescent Café next door.  “Do you think you’d ever like to teach fifth grade?” he asked when he arrived home.  Where did this question come from?  “Fifth grade?  You know I’m endorsed for secondary.  I don’t have an endorsement to teach fifth grade.” 

“That might not matter.  Jefferson Elementary just lost all of its fifth grade teachers, and quite a few of the other teachers too.  Eight teachers, including all three fifth grade teachers, started the day together with a joint proclamation that they will not be renewing their contracts for next year at Jefferson Elementary.” 

“You’re kidding?  Are they that mad about the fence?” 

“They’re that mad.”

We turned on the local evening news and one of the fifth grade teachers was being interviewed: “We’ve been calling for a reasonable plan to prepare for terror emergencies, but the school barricaded our grounds like a prison.”  Then the Principal was interviewed: “We understand the teachers’ concern in light of last month’s shooting threat, but this is the most ‘reasonable’ solution we have right now.  We hope they’ll change their minds.”  “And if they don’t,” the reporter asked, “will you be able to hire eight teachers by August?”  The principle nodded, “We have a beautiful school; we have wonderful children; and we feel confident we can recruit strong, qualified teachers."  

Standing in front of the fence for an ironic jest, the reporter closed the story, “If you are looking for a teaching position, beautiful Jefferson Elementary is hiring.  I’m Rachel Snowden reporting to you from Colorado Springs.”

Rachel Snowden.  I knew a Rachel Snowden.  In fifth grade.  I looked at her again.  No, she couldn’t be the same one.  But it was a sign -- a neon, blinking detour sign.

Sunday, April 8, 2018

Chapter 1: Noah

Big news!  After four years of putting my husband through Grad school for his advanced degree, I now have time to re-activate my blog!  Bigger news: I'm now writing on the same themes as fiction.  Here’s my first snippet:

“Don’t return to this church or contact Pastor David ever again,” commanded the  head elder, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.  I had just been blackballed.  He then "prayed" for me and closed with the last words I heard spoken by anyone at my church: “You’re just like Eve.”

Just like Eve.  I had heard those words before.  I was eleven.  Our Sunday school class was studying the story of Noah’s flood.  “You see,” the teacher said, “The entire world was filled with wickedness.  The scripture records that ‘every intent’ of every person on earth – except for one – was full of ‘only evil’ and that every human, except for one, had corrupted the earth.’”  He then asked us what may have made Noah different, unique in the human race of his generation as a good man.  One of my Sunday school classmates said that maybe he wasn’t selfish; another said that he may have been willing to share his things with his friends; another said that maybe Noah didn’t litter all over the earth and pollute it like the others. 

The teacher nodded at all these responses.  I was unsure whether Noah really was unique, even whether he really was good.  I couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but I somehow felt that he wasn’t good. 

Francine raised her hand and offered her answer: “Noah was obedient.”  To this, my teacher grew a wide grin, and said, “Exactly, Francine.  The scripture records this is exactly what made Noah so special: He obeyed God.  Let’s look at what the Bible says in Genesis 6:22: ‘Thus Noah did; according to all that God had commanded him, so he did.’  While every other person on earth was disobeying God, Noah obeyed him.” 

So the teacher encouraged us to obey God and to memorize two scripture verses about Noah for the following week: “But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord” (Genesis 6:8) and “Thus Noah did; according to all that God had commanded him, so he did” (Genesis 6:22).

It was then that I understood what disturbed me about Noah: he obeyed God.  That was it!  So I raised myy hand and asked, “If Noah had found favor with God, why didn’t he use his favor to ask God to save the world?”  The teacher looked at me stunned, even disturbed.  But I didn’t know I was stepping out into dangerous, inappropriate territory by asking questions in Sunday school.  I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong by wanting to know why Noah obeyed, so when the teacher remained silent, I thought I’d better clarify my question, you know, make it blunt: “Why did Noah let God drown the world?”

The entire class went silent.  Each student looked at the teacher with eager eyes for an answer.  Each wanted to know the same thing: why had Noah let God drown the world?  The teacher was flummoxed.  The lesson that he had intended to instill upon his class was the lesson of obedience, but now my insolence was about to undermine the entire lesson with its opposite: disobedience.  I was suggesting that it would have been better if Noah had disobeyed God!  That it would have been better for Noah to supersede God and put forth Noah’s own, human notion that the evil world should remain.  The way I had phrased my question dug deep with prickles under the teacher’s skin: “Why had Noah let God drown the world?”  The question suggested that little, human Noah had authority over God, the Creator of the heavens and the earth.  How insolent of me to think that Noah “lets” God!

“Who created the heavens and the earth?” teacher asked me.  “God,” I replied.  “Why was Noah special,” teacher asked Francine. “Because he obeyed God,” replied Francis.  “Right,” said teacher to the full class.  Then, without answering my question, he turned to me and said with tinge of scorn, said, “You want the knowledge of God, and the power of God, and you want to disobey to get it.  You’re just like Eve.” 

He took a deep breath with the resolve to salvage the lesson I had fairly well bombed for him and asked us all to recite the memory verses: “Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord. . . . Thus Noah did; according to all that God had commanded him, so he did” (Genesis 6:8 and 22).  After we obediently recited these verses, he took another breath to keep as calm as he could and then closed: “Now, everyone, keep reciting these verses for next week, and we’ll begin next Sunday with each of you reciting the verses.  Most of all, remember to be just like Noah and not just like Eve.

I felt the pierce into my heart at those words “not just like Eve,” that pierce of condemnation, condemnation I couldn’t even grasp or understand.  Why had I been so condemned?  What had I done wrong?

I did not know.  And, yet, I felt fully condemned, and ashamed, and I buried it.  I buried my condemnation, my shame, and my memory.  And I had forgotten this moment in my fifth grade Sunday school class -- until now.

Thursday, February 16, 2017

He who has ears to hear, let him hear!

“Oh, how blind and deaf you are toward God!
Why won’t you listen?  Why won’t you see?
Who in all the world is as blind as my own people,
who are designed to be my messengers of truth?
Who is so blind as my dedicated one, the servant of the Lord?
You see and understand what is right but won’t heed nor do it;
you hear, but you won’t listen.”
(Isaiah 42:18-20; The Living Bible)

           Hi again, it’s been a long time.  My husband is finishing a Grad program, and my writing time has been limited by additional teaching hours for our family income.  Soon, I hope to resurrect the voice.  

          Peace, Karina

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

In the beginning the Ancient Story was under-told

In the beginning the Ancient Story was under-told.  Subtleties to be captured, then awed upon, went lost.  Then the Ancient Story was summarized, translated, and further under-told.

            It may be useful to reflect upon the Ancient Story as “under-told.”  That it was under-told is not to suggest that few told the Story or that the Story was rarely told.  No, nothing could be further from the truth, for many told the Story, and they told it often, but when they told it, they under-told it.  And by under-telling it, they eventually mis-told it.

            In the beginning the Ancient Story was under-told for a purpose.  It was under-stated, subtle, sublime, and mysterious.  In subtlety, the Ancient Story guarded its deepest secrets.  Sages meditated in awe for hours upon a single nuance, a single word, even a single letter.  Regular story-tellers, meanwhile, missed the sublime and carried the Story forward in its abridged version.  They summarized the Ancient Story, then further under-told it, then they translated their summaries, and then under-told it even more.

            Eventually, in their under-tellings, and summaries of under-tellings, and translations of summaries of under-tellings, they lost the punch lines.  Some of the story-tellers wondered what the punch lines were, and they debated among themselves about what the punch lines may have been.  But many of the story-tellers didn’t know they had lost any of the punch lines, and they kept under-telling the Ancient Story without any pauses or musings about why the Story was missing its punch lines.  Still others, whether conscious or not, one cannot know, perceived the punch lines were missing, and they added their own.  Now the Ancient Story was both under-told and mis-told.

Some of the Sages tried to rescue the Ancient Story from the story-tellers, and they tried to correct some of the errors had that arisen.  But the story-tellers hated the Sages, and they slandered the Sages and spat lies against them and called them every manner of rogue and scoundrel.  The story-tellers roused the people against the Sages, and they called for the murder of the Sages, and the people complied, and they killed the Sages.

In the beginning the Ancient Story was under-told.  In the beginning “the” was the Alpha and the Omega.  In the beginning God created “the” heavens and the earth.  In the beginning “the” was Aleph-Tav, the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last.  In the beginning God created the Alpha and the Omega, the heavens and the earth.

In the beginning the masculine and feminine powers – in plural, “Elohim,” created the Alpha and the Omega.  “Beginning” created “Elohim,” the Alpha and the Omega, the heavens and the earth.  In the beginning the Ancient Story was under-told.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Eve's story

Greetings to all.  I know you haven’t seen me lately, and I miss all of you too.  It is not that I am not writing.  It is that I am putting my husband through Grad School, and when I am writing, I am working on a much larger project, a book that follows Eve from a modern, new, and more biblically accurate perspective -- though that perspective challenges the very tenants of the traditional churches in North America.

The Bible admits, for example, that men ruling over women a curse.  It is the third curse noted to Eve in Genesis 3:16.  Few know the curse, “he will rule over you,” even exists, and if they ask about it, they may be told the “curse” expresses what was intended.  Few carry out the line of questioning to its logical end, “if ‘he will rule over you’ describes what should be, then why is it expressed as a curse?”

If we Christians recognize and face the biblical expression that men ruling over women is a curse, then we can begin the process of transcending that curse.  And is that not why Christ came? To set us free?

Between the well-known curse to Eve of pain in childbirth and the chilling final curse that the man would rule over her comes another little-known curse, “your yearning will be for the man.”  Few are aware of this curse either, and fewer understand it.  But when we think about it, does this little phrase not express extraordinary truth?  Little girls dream of marrying a prince while little boys are thinking nothing of girls, let alone marriage.  Teen girls hit a crisis if they don’t get asked to the prom, an event for which most teen boys are still shrugging their shoulders and rolling their eyes.  

The story continues, and we’re all familiar with it.  It is a story that is not universal, but common: the teen boy goes, but his true hope has nothing to do with the prom, but the sex he craves after it.  The girl, who we’ll call Eve, gives it, not because she wants the sex, but because she wants to go to the prom.  She keep giving it to keep her boyfriend.  Then she gets pregnant and hopes for what she really wants: marriage.  But the boyfriend doesn’t want marriage.  He wants abortion. 

Eve’s story can take many turns at this point, but it began with something very simple: the girl yearns for the boy.  And she is not yearning for him sexually.  The scripture is very clear: she yearns for “the man.”  The man himself.  The person.  She wants him to complete her because she doesn't feel complete on her own.  Whatever choice Eve makes at this moment in her story, her life is impacted by this seven-word curse in a great myriad of ways she has never considered: the curse steals five hours of her week on her favorite soap opera and twenty hours on other sources from celebrity magazines to romance novels to fashion tips to social networking sites revolving on her obsession with romance.  Much more of her time is also spent on less direct associations with her obsession, including shopping, which steals not only time, but money.  Her wardrobe, her cosmetics, and her hair styling appointments add up to a great deal more money than her boyfriend’s attire.  Were she not living under this seven-word curse, she would likely still spend more on her appearance than her man, but not many times more.

The seven word curse deceives Eve into a relationship before she’s ready, to abuse, to enabling risky behavior, and into many choices she would make differently were not she unconsciously driven by a thread woven into the feminine structure.

Again, Eve’s story is not universal, but it is common.  In my book, I will express awe at the insightful nature of the biblical writer to not only describe – very perceptively -- what has been written into the expression of feminine humanity, but also to call these expressions “curses.”  The biblical writer carried remarkable foresight to state that men ruling over women is a curse, and, remarkably, the biblical writer even perceived that women yearning for men is also a curse.  Today, in our twenty-first century, we don’t even see what has been written in the Bible for what it is, let alone carry the foresight of this biblical author who recognized these two expressions of feminine humanity as curses.

Today, in the Christian scriptures, we also have a solution to our curses: the Christ, the Savior, who came to set us free of our curses.  In Him, can transcend them.  In fact, the clear antidote for a curse that a woman will yearn for her earthly man is by completion of her yearning by her heavenly Man.  In Him, she is complete, and, therefore, her yearning for her earthly man has been transcended.

I hope to post updates on my progress and on the story here along the way, though posting may be less frequent. Meanwhile, feel free to check in.  I’d love to hear from you.  I miss everyone.  Meanwhile, please join me in praying for insight and clarity from the Spirit on the progress of this book.  It’ll rattle a few cages, and that’s giving me some writer’s block.  I’d love your prayers. 

Thank you and blessings, 

My photo
Pacific Northwest