Sorrow is Progress

So I bet you all want to know how my hunt for joy is going. It's fabulous like June. I made my list of joy verses- it's 2 pages long. I've gone through 9 verses so far. Being the analytical sort that I am, I have diligenty looked for patterns among them. Joy begins in the presence of God. From God's presence come correlates of Joy such as communal and individual integrity, honesty, fellowship in war and celebration, and generosity. Further verifying my conclusions, the very time spent looking said verses up felt refreshing and deepening. I feel myself settling down, the demonic busyness being pulled back (by the way, thanks Lisa, Robyn, and Jason for praying with me about that on Sunday). Even more so when I took Brian Haab (artist visiting from Switzerland)'s advice and got up on Monday morning to watch the sun rise with God. 5:00am waking to be at a nearby hill by 5:27am with coffee, a banana, and my journal- So worth it. Moreover, my converse-once-in-a-month-or-two friend surprised me by e-mailing me a quick note on the topic: Joy comes before during and after healing. It brings reprieve from pain, it heals your wounds, and sheilds you after. It is Vital to life, especially a christian one. About healing. Healing is a curious topic to me. I have been wondering for some time how much damage can be inflicted on a person before they are so wounded that full healing is no longer possible. [Just to clarify: I am not a sadist...I am a psychology major who, thanks to several years studying things like developmental psychopathology, now knows a lot more about the width and breadth of harm we can cause each other and ourselves in our sin than I ever intended to.] On the one hand, my faith tells me that there is no limit because my God is all powerful and all loving and can therefore heal anything. All humanity's evil combined was not great enough to permanently hold Christ dead in our place- 3 days in hell by that perfect Being was sufficient to pay all our death wages. On the other hand, I know that some wounds are never healed. Christ himself, even when risen from the dead in his heavenly body, still had the puncture wounds from his crucifixion in his hands for the doubting Thomas to see. So what prevents God from completely healing people on earth? Are some types of wounds unhealable? Is there one or more rules operating on earth that restrict God's full healing here, such that some hurts may only be completely attended to in heaven? Do those rules include conditions on our behaviour or faith? What about Christ's prayer, "Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven"? Answers come as peices of a puzzle, fragments of pictures that make up another picture, like the cover of The Truman Show. J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings: "There are some hurts that are just too deep to heal," explains Frodo Baggins in reference to his Morgul blade wound, prior to his journey in the last ship to the undieing lands. C. S. Lewis' The Cosmic Trilogy, That Hideous Strength: "'Through me,' said Merlin, 'you can suck up from the earth oblivion of all pains.'... 'No,' said the director. 'God's glory, do you think you were dug out of the earth to give me a plaster for my heel? We have drugs that could cheat the pain as well as your earth magic or better, if it were not my business to bear it to the end. I will hear no more of that.'" A. M. Rihbani's The Syrian Christ: "Once upon a time, a certain man fell from the housetop and was badly injured. The neighbors came and carried him inside and placed him in bed. Then one of his friends approached near to the injured man and said, 'Asaad, my beloved friend, how is your condition [kief halak]?' The much pained man opened his mouth and said, 'My two arms are broken; my back and one of my legs are broken; one of my eyes is put out; I am badly wounded in the breast, and feel that my liver is severed. But I trust that God will restore me.' Whereupon his friend answered, 'Asaad, I am distressed. But if this is your condition, it will be much easier for God to make a new man to take your place than to restore you.'"- a parable portraying "one who has been demoralized beyond redemption." Genesis 32:23-31: "So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob's hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said, 'Let me go, for it is daybreak.' But Jacob replied, 'I will not let you go unless you bless me.' The man asked him, 'What is your name?' 'Jacob,' he answered. Then the man said, 'Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel (he struggles with God), because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome.' Jacob said, 'Please tell me your name.' But he replied, 'Why do you ask me my name?' Then he blessed him there. So Jacob called the place Peniel (face of God), saying, 'It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.' The sun rose above him as he passed Peniel, and he was limping because of his hip." Richard Kuklinski, in the filmed interview with a criminologist prior to his execution: "I must be the loneliest man in the world. No one loved me as a child. No one loves me now. I've come full circle. I guess it's time for me to die." Note: claims in the interview to have killed more than 200 people during his career as an assassin for the mafia. In the interview, he notes that he felt no emotion whatsoever during or after any but 2 of the killings. He was given the dual diagnosis of paranoid personality disorder and psychopathic personality disorder by the criminal psychologist interviewing him. Basically, that means that he hates and is suspicious of everyone, and experiences little or no emotion, either positive or negative. He recognised that he was different, but didn't understand his own behaviour or reactions. He actually seemed relieved to finally have someone else (the psychologist) explain them to him. Patterns, patterns, patterns...I swear I'm not schizophrenic. Um, so the two biblical accounts (doubting Thomas, wrestling Jacob) both use the permanent scars/wounds for posterity- as symbols for teaching others. The fictional accounts (Tolkien and Lewis) both also involve physical-spiritual wounds incurred from great battles with the Evil One, during and after which they suffered much but were victorious in the end. All four endured with faith in a greater power of good/love. The parable and the real account of persons defunct of all moral reasoning seemed to agree that there was less to be gained from such a person's extended life than there was to be gained from his death. In all cases, suffering or sorrow is endured in a spiritual battle manifested in the physical realm. Christ suffered unimaginable sorrow and pain for the release of sinners from death, that they might have joy and life. Jacob wrestled with God until he was forgiven and blessed, released from his own fear and the consequences of his manipulation. Frodo fought Sauron and his Nasguls to destroy the Ring of power that would have enslaved and massacred all life on earth. Ransom (the director) fought Satan (disguised as Weston) in the oceans and through the earth to the peak of Perelandra (Venus) to save the Green Lady (and hense all her descendants) from making Eve's mistake. The psychopath, bent into personified animosity by hateful parents, acted out Satan's will for humans to be destroyed until his capture and subsequent execution by the human authorities put in power by God to act out justice as best they can on earth. What then is the rule? It appears to have more to do with the spiritual benefits to be gained by those surrounding the wounded person that it does with the wounded person himself. Ultimately, God wants both the wounded and the wounded's community to learn to trust and obey him. Those with a good heart who fought for Christ may be allowed to live with a remnant of their hurt to remind the individual and everyone else that this world is temporary and eternal things come with a cost, that we all need God. Conversely, in cases such as Richard Kuklinski, since God is equally justice and love, he cannot allow the murder and/or injury of so many of his children go without consequence. That would teach society that humans have no worth and thus, what they do doesn't matter. Even if Kuklinski does chose to be forgiven and sanctified by God, it would be impossible for a murderer of 100s to ever perform enough acts of goodness to heal the number of injuries inflicted not only on the murdered, but on their loved ones and society as a whole. Maybe death, oblivion, forgetfulness are the only acts of mercy left to someone whose wounds are his own memories, his own mind. Would I want to remember 40 years worth of faces, blood, bodies, and weapons? I doubt it. And there's really no logical way such events could be forgotten on earth, not with the communication technology we have and the number of people who can act as witnesses to all any given person's deeds. The only solution would be to create another world, where the essence of a person may pass but not the specific details of their history, so that they can begin anew. Heaven. Death is the final healing. Anyways, those are my happy thoughts of the day. Psychopathy is a pretty extreme example (occurs in approximately 1% of the population) of someone who can never be healed on earth without breaking God's rules/self-regulations regarding free will (ie. free will does not exist if there are no consequences for choices made). More typical cases exemplify reasons God may choose not to fully heal someone, and how God walks with us in our pain and brokenness. The point of this whole rant is that Joy may be found in Sorrow, because we can only truly understand God's love, comfort, and healing when we experience his presence during and after our hurt. Bring on the sorrow.

This Joy

Thinking of Melanie and monks tonight. Yes, yes I am writing yet another morose novelette at 2 am. Stop complaining. I don't write very often. I got home late tonight from a friend's birthday party and found Melanie alone in the living room, still awake and feeling very dejected and lonely. I sat down beside her and we began to talk about life, philosophy, and faith. Specifically, we discussed how we think faith fits into each of the above, theoretically and personally. It added some admirable symmetry to my thought patterns for the day- I started out the day thinking about this joy thing. I was washing already clean cuboards at my job when suddenly I acknowledged to myself that I do not possess anything that can be accurately termed "this joy". I know joy exists somewhere and that it should be something I can attain; however, for the time being, "this joy" remains "that joy": the joy located somewhere else and belongs to another being than myself. I know why. A few months ago, God told me it was time to start a new search of his Word. The last cohesive Word search I engaged in began with a concordance list of all the verses in the bible that involved the words, "heal" or "healing". It was a good time- right in the fall of last year as university was just beginning again. I loved the solitude, the quiet, the peace, the comfort as I began each day in our basement family room with only God, the lamp, and my dog for company, looking up and writing out a few verses each day. When the list was done, I assumed the topic was finished. Silly me. "Because," sayeth the Lord unto me, "healing is the siamese twin of joy." Silly me again, I never bothered looking up any of the long list of verses that incorporate the term "joy" or "joyful," and my spiritual growth came to a pointed standstill very quickly. Which brings me to where I am now. Uneasy. I really like that word for describing my current mental state (and by current I mean starting four months ago and continuing to present). I am forever ruminating about what remains to be done, ever alert to the presence of an unnamed danger I'm not prepared to prevail over completely. I went to my shifts at the DC crisis lines this week and realized that I'm no less afraid of their capriciousness and unpredictability than I was when I first started the volunteer position months ago: I just know how to react better now. Knowledge has made me sloppy. I used to pray my heart out before and during every shift, fearing failure against the dark powers twirling into chaos the unprotected lives of many callers. Now I seem to operate on autopilot; reading a novel or text book between calls, catching a nap on the c-train ride there. It is not the DC alone. Even out of school, I spend hours every day travelling the city on foot or city transit. At work, I perform mindless tasks like washing dishes or vacuuming. Do I bother interceding for my family, friends, or aquaintances in either circumstance? Do I ask God questions or listen in case he has something to say to me? Hell no. I recite the endless list of things I promised people I'd do this summer and develope schemes to fit it all in. Or, having become disheartened with that list's formidible size, I distract myself by mentally reciting the latest book I've started, picking out alternate twists for the plot. I wear no armour to protect me from the little and large inconveniences that hit me during the day. They just kill me uninhibited because I don't (won't?) invite God to stay with me in my travels. After all, I didn't do what God asked me to do for my own good, so why should I complain to him when things don't go right? And so, I find myself reading books like they might be burned tommorow, laughing or smiling a pasted on smile with friends at parties I wish I wasn't at, eating food until I feel sickly over-full after commanding myself to cut back to half of what I normally consume, and loading my backpack as if I plan to move out today for a walk around the block. Joy: a part of healing, perhaps inextricably fused with the concepts of hope or faith. But I haven't sought it and haven't run into it by chance either. Melanie also is finding joy illusive. Except she's actually been seeking it. God, I really don't understand why it's so hard for Melanie to find you, to hear you, to touch you, or see you. She tries so hard. Mel told me once that she's begun to believe that God just doesn't ever speak to some people. Everything in me screams it's a lie, but I still can't explain why if God is speaking and Melanie is listening she's not hearing anything. Experience at Epic has convinced me that every child of God is created with the ability to hear their daddy, although I acknowledge that he probably speaks more to some than others. Issac definitely got fewer memos than Abraham or Jacob. But I don't remember anyone in the bible to whom God never spoke in one way or another. A different explanation is therefore required. In psych, there's a theory that people are primed to hear what they expect or want to hear. Melanie admitted that she's been looking for very specific answers to her questions (ex. where should I work?) and so she hypothesized that God wants to talk to her about something more abstract or general. In the general realm of things, Melanie is very hurt, yet very numb. She's sure that God withholds joy from her as punishment for some lack on her part. When I suggested last night that perhaps healing must precede joy, Melanie pointed out that if that were true, no one would ever feel joy because there's always new wounds being opened. Personally, I'm of the belief that most wounds can be traced to just a core few which get reopened, but she might be at least partially right. Maybe joy causes healing, rather than just proceding from it. Darn the English language for being so miserably vague. One of the first debates Melanie and I engaged in about joy last night was its definition. What the duece is joy? And what distinguishes it from other terms like happiness or faith? As far as Melanie and I were able to determine, Happiness is an emotion or feeling of elation that is largely dependant on circumstance. Ex. Drinking hot chocolate with whipping cream and a candy cane melted in it after a cold winter night walk makes me happy. Being outside in the sunshine surrounded by living plants in the summer makes me happy. Brightly wrapped packages bound in ribbon make me happy. Lightening storms make me happy. So does riding on a large roller coaster. Smelling and/or touching moldy potatoes in my fridge makes me decidedly unhappy. In contrast, Joy should remain even in the absence of preferable circumstances. It goes beyond emotion to a sort of knowledge that there is still accessible beauty and goodness in dark places. I admit, my definition is still problematic. Since I define faith as belief in things unseen and hope as faith in the occurance or existence of something good/desirable, then there's not a lot to differentiate these from joy...unless joy is more the ability to find or see the goodness hoped for and believed in. I dunno. It's all speculation and ramblings until I actually do my search. Ok, so I know you're still waiting to hear how monks fit into this. I have one name for you: St. Francis of Assisi. He started the Franciscan order of monasticism, which strongly advocates worshiping God through communal living in a context of poverty. Francis was the son of a very wealthy merchant who, after miraculously covering from extreme illness protracted in a war, decided to seek God in a life of simplicity. Several friends ended up following him. Why? Because he had SO MUCH JOY. Simplicity. I don't even know what that would look like for me. On the one hand, I want deeper relationships with God and people from church, but I also need to focus on schoolwork and friends made there, family members, and building relationships with people outside my christianese bubble, as well as getting some physical exercise in and earning the money required to do all the above. On the other hand, I heard from my brother that there's a group of Epic goers who decided that meeting once per week was not sufficient for building meaningful community so they are now meeting every day in a pub. I crave friends that close knit. But it's impossible for me. There's too many people to know, too many things to do, too many things still to learn. As Melanie put it: "What do you do when there are dozens of doors open for you to go through, but none is better than the others?" I didn't have an answer then and I still don't have one now. All the lonely people: where do they all belong? I don't know for me and I definitely don't know where Melanie is supposed to be, but I suspect that the key to either of us hearing God clearly, and therefore in finding this Joy, is in a community somewhere, in which we'll be able to figure out what our weaknesses and strengths are for. But where, where, where? And can the Joy be found before we get there? Um, I'm finished babbling now. I'm leaving.