Life with Jocelyn

Jocelyn Larsen

to look on him and pardon me

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I was singing the old hymn “Before the Throne” to my boys at bedtime tonight and one line is “for God the Just is satisfied / to look on him and pardon me.”

Some of my Christ-following friends wouldn’t give this line a second thought, not seeing a problem at all. Some of my Christ-following friends can’t even read this line without cringing inside. Let me explain.

For my friends who don’t see any problem: The “him” is obviously Jesus and the idea in the mind of the hymn-writer was probably (we never can really know, can we?) that of penal substitutionary atonement. This dogma deals with God’s wrath; it says that God was so pissed at sin that he had to unleash it on someone and that someone was Jesus and so now anytime God gets out-of-control furious with a human – phew! – he just looks at Jesus and that calms him down like a cup of chocolate milk used to calm my out-of-control 4-year-old.

For my cringing friends: I know, right? Can God really still be that childish? That emotionally immature? When Jesus wasn’t at all like that? And what about the inordinate and proliferous writings about the “steadfast love of God” that repeatedly repeatedly overcomes his wrath? In every book of the Bible. And how can that same steadfast, ever-persevering love of God and the eternal value God seems to place on humans be reconciled with one of the assumed bases of this dogma – that humans are basically pieces of dung that God himself can barely tolerate?

I know I’m only scraping the surface of this millenia-long conversation, and for the record I am not even trying to reconcile these dogmas here. But I had one thought tonight while I was singing.

For all of you, my friends: What if you’re all right? I mean what if you’re both right at the same time?

I was just thinking about a few of the people in my life who I tend to feel hopeless for. Smokers that I can’t imagine ever quitting. Obese people that I can’t imagine losing the weight they long to lose. Relationships so broken I can’t imagine ever being friends again. People so stuck in their ways I can’t imagine them ever seeing any light.

But then I look on that one person. The one chain smoker who did it, who actually finally gave it up for good. The one overweight guy that found himself hiding behind all those pounds. That one friendship that actually reconciled. That one stuck person who “came-to” and is now basking in the light. I look on them and pardon all the others. I look on them, not in disgust with all of the still-dysfunctional people, but to give me Hope for all of our still-dysfunctions. I look on them, not to avoid looking at the still-dysfunctional people who make me so furious, but to remind me of Love and Forgiveness and the steadfast Salvation of God. Still here; still winning.

Maybe that’s what hymn-writer Charitie Lees Smith had in mind when she wrote “for God the Just is satisfied / to look on him and pardon me.” You never know.

let Love grow + practice

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Everything is coming back to life in my small city. The maple tree in our front yard is dropping its neon green seeds. Tiny fuchsia leaves are pushing their way out of dried-crispy grape vines entwined around our basketball hoop. Even my fiddle leaf fig tree in the climate-controlled corner of our dining room seems to know it is spring. It stretches its many leafy faces toward the sun beating through the huge southern windows.

There is something so delicious about the anticipation of more green, more life, more fruit to come. On my long walks through our historic residential area, resplendent with mature trees and foliage, it seems as though the springtime sprouts and shoots are grinning at me, “You think this is great – wait until summer!”

As I walk, I pray that Love would grow in me, in us, in our world – with the same tenacity, steadfastness, frozen-death-and-then-all-of-a-suddenness as all of these little green things. I pray that the people who come after me, after us, will benefit from our Love the way I benefit from the people who planted these trees a hundred years ago. Like those people and these trees, maybe most of the Love that we plant and practice and grow today in our hearts won’t even be seen or manifest fully for a hundred years. And maybe it will last hundreds of years after our tenure on this planet, spreading far and wide, its beneficiaries not even knowing our names or the hard work that Love was for us. They won’t know us at all, but they’ll know Love full well. Now, isn’t that a delightful thought?

And then I was thinking lately about hate and Love.

Isn’t Life just basically about growing out of hate and into Love?
Isn’t it about practicing the kind of forgiveness that roots out the hate in your heart?
Isn’t it about seeing people more than seeing problems?
Isn’t it about letting Love grow in our hearts until there is no more soil, no more nutrients, no more space for hate?

Of course there are always things we will (and probably should, in some ways) hate: “slums and battlefields and insane asylums” – as Madeleine L’Engle would say. (And I’d add brothels and false piety to that list.) But the more I’ve let Love grow in my heart, the less hate I feel. Even when confronted with terrible things, I find that the hate that bubbles up in me is minuscule compared to my compassion for the people stuck in those places and compared to my sadness over the pain and grief those people must experience. I think maybe this is what happens when we let Love grow.

 

Practice

If you feel so inclined, here is a little practice for today:

List the things you hate.

List the things you love.

Ask yourself how you might move one thing from the hate list to the love list. (Example: I hate my sister could become I miss my relationship with my sister and my love for her makes me sad to be missing out on a friendship with her. Don’t get me wrong – moving your sister from the hate list to the love list will not solve your problem immediately and entirely, but it definitely stands a chance of interrupting the hate and beginning to coax your heart toward love. It might not radically change your relationship with your sis, but it has a darned good chance of changing you. And that alone is worth your trouble.)

Ask God to keep shortening your first list and lengthening your second.

love your enemies

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Photo by Nina Strehl on Unsplash

One of the most revolutionary teachings of Jesus was: Love your enemies. It is still a revolutionary thought. And, even more, in practice, loving your enemies has the potential to change everything, even your heart.

Here’s Jesus, just to jog your memory:

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be the sons of your Father who is in heaven.

So, first. Notice that Jesus assumes we all have enemies. He’s not at all concerned (as we are sometimes) about keeping up appearances that we all just like everyone all the time. Instead, he says, “You know those people you don’t like in your heart? You know those people who don’t like you? Yeah: those are enemies. Let’s face them. Let’s talk about them.”

Jesus knew that denying you have enemies can only lead to more hate growing in your heart. And the worst part about denying your hate is that then hate grows in your heart subconsciously. And if you’re not conscious of it, you can’t pray, confess, and forgive it. It only festers and multiplies. Therefore, Jesus makes it a non-option to deny that you have enemies.

Next. How do you define “enemy?” I mean what characteristics come to mind when you think about a person you might naturally consider to be your enemy? I know it’s not pleasant, but just go there with me for a moment. (And, remember, you can’t pretend you don’t have any. Jesus already took away that option.)

I’ll go first:

  • someone I hate (or when that’s too strong to admit to myself, someone I “strongly dislike”)
  • someone who hates me
  • someone I hope I never run into
  • someone that hurt me in the past
  • someone who seems to stand for the exact opposite of what I stand for

Does that sound about right? Did I pretty much cover all of the categories?

Now, Jesus says, the only thing to do is to start Loving and praying for those people. That’s it.

And the practice begins to change everything.

If I let Love grow in my heart for my enemies (through prayer, confession, forgiveness, etc.), those people will categorically stop being my enemies. If I let Love grow in my heart toward my enemies, I’ll have to scratch them off of my enemy list. If I let Love grow in my heart toward my enemies, it will become impossible for me to feel that they’re still my enemies – even if they still dislike me or consider me to be their enemy. Jesus is basically saying, “Love your enemies… into non-enemies.”

Bam. Revolutionary, right? Totally freeing, right? You don’t have to keep enemies any more. Let’s break it down further:

Your enemy is a person you hate. But if you let Love grow in your heart for them, you will no longer hate them and so they will no longer qualify as your enemy.

Your enemy is someone you hope you never run into around town. But if you let Love grow in your heart for them, it will no longer be so unbearable to run into them and so they will no longer qualify as your enemy.

Your enemy is someone that hurt you in the past. But if you let Love grow in your heart for them, your hurt will be released and so they will no longer qualify as your enemy.

If we let Love grow in our hearts toward every single human – even the people most unlikely to receive or deserve or reciprocate our love (our enemies) – we might actually expunge the entire notion of enemy from our hearts!

I’m not saying that all of your enemies will turn into your best friends. I don’t think Jesus expects this, either. I just think this is a powerful, new old way of creating peace, unity, freedom, and Love in our lives by eradicating the very concept of enemy.

In a lot of cases, it just might be this simple. But just because it is simple does not mean it is easy. In fact, the practices that I mentioned (prayer, confession, and forgiveness) for letting Love grow are among the most difficult things I do on a weekly basis. And those three practices deserve a separate conversation all their own.

But, I’ll say it. Jesus invites us to Love our enemies into non-existence. Jesus invites us to live enemy free.

the best book I read in 2018

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Out of the books I read in 2018, my book of the year comes from the reading I did for my particular vocation* as a writer. But since all of us write something occasionally (for our jobs or in our relationships), and since all of us could use help discerning good writing from poor writing, I recommend it without hesitation.

 

On Writing Well: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction, 6th ed. by William Zinsser (1st ed. 1976) 294 pages

Zinsser writes insightfully about the writing process; your respect for good writers will grow! He identifies the characteristics that make good writing good, a campaign that begs visiting and revisiting. Best of all, he is an encouraging teacher for the writer in all of us – even if the bulk of our writing is in emails to our co-workers and birthday cards to our intimates.

Plus – get this – it’s really well written. 😉

Happy reading (and writing),

Jocelyn

 

 

* Do you read/listen much for your vocation? I mean: Have you found a few communicators who are the kind of humans you’d like to be when you grow up? Have you found anyone who is ahead of you as a Christ-ian, a parent, a child, a whatever-your-job-title-is-currently, and a whatever-you-hope-your-job-title-will-be-eventually and can offer some empathy and leadership through life?

If you haven’t found such people, I’d encourage you to keep looking. They’ve been an essential part of the salvation of God in my life. The search itself is often discouraging, but once you find them you can cling on for a little while like a suckerfish on a whale.

the best books I read in 2018, part 1

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Happy New Year! And what a better way to begin the new year than talking about books, my favorite inanimate things.

A side note to young parents: The age of one’s children and the amount of reading one does must have a direct relationship. I had some very lean reading years. But my kids are getting older. I am reading more and more. If your kids are still very young, don’t worry! You’ll make it. And in the meantime, you’ll have to settle for reading just a few books. Make sure they’re books worth reading. Maybe I can help save you some time by passing along my recommendations.

This year I’m just sharing the best of what I read and I’m not writing a review of all of them! (Sorry, just stars 1-5.) But please feel free to comment or email me back about any particular book or about other recommendations. (One of the highest honors in our family is to give or be asked for a “book stack.” A book stack is a physical stack of books (or a photo of a physical stack of books) that have been personally and specifically curated for the recipient – a mix of books they would love, books that will challenge them, and books they wouldn’t normally read but maybe should.)

Here is the first (of two) book lists / reviews:

the best book I read for my own spiritual development

The Celtic Way of Prayer, Esther de Waal (1997) 211 pages. *****

A brilliant look into the earthy, everyday, deeply rooted spirituality of Celtic prayers and spiritual practice. De Waal writes very accessibly about ancient Celtic ways of life – a way of life that is very practical and very challenging for all of the ways it embeds prayer and practice in everyday life.

other excellent spiritual books worth reading

The Challenge of Jesus, N. T. Wright****

Marked for Life, Maria Boulding****

The House of the Soul, Evelyn Underhill*****

Mysticism, Evelyn Underhill****

(A tome, if there ever were one.)

The Spiritual Life, Evelyn Underhill***

Reversed Thunder, Eugene Peterson***

Mudhouse Sabbath, Lauren F. Winner***

spiritual classics

I read several spiritual classics this year, all were shortish and definitely worth reading.

The Way of a Pilgrim, Anonymous***

The Divine Milieu, Teilhard de Chardin****

The Mind of the Maker, Dorothy Sayers****

The Glory Road, Ylvisaker***

 

the best fiction & poetry I read that the largest majority of people will also like (ha!)

Astray, Emma Donoghue (2012) 271 pages. *****

Extremely ingenious and imaginative, Astray is a collection of short stories in the genre of historical fiction. Ms. Donoghue collected short newspaper articles, a printed line from here or there, or a snippet of advertisements and then invented stories to explain or expound on them! True creativity and brilliance, if you ask me. She (along with Flannery O’Connor and John Cheever) helped me find again in 2018 my fondness for the short story.

other fiction & poetry worth reading

The Complete Stories, Flannery O’Connor *****

There are two kinds of temperaments in this world: the kind who love Flannery O’Connor and the kind who are alarmed and sort of disemboweled by Flannery O’Connor. I am of the former. I do not know which you will be. But if you are comfortable with the fact that life is dark and sad and complicated, you will probably love Ms. O’Connor. If not, skip it. There will surely be copies of her collected stories floating around in the life hereafter. You can read them then.

East of Eden, John Steinbeck ****

Farenheit 451, Ray Bradbury ***

Small Porch, Wendell Berry ****

Stamboul Train, Graham Greene ***

The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton ***

 

a few great books we read with our kids (aged 9, 7, and 4)

The Fledgling, Jane Langton ****

Roller Skates, Ruth Sawyer ***

Socks, Beverly Cleary ****

Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis (again!) *****

James & the Giant Peach, Roald Dahl ****

Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl ****

Charlie & the Great Glass Elevator, Roald Dahl ****

Matilda, Roald Dahl *****

Roald Dahl was more willing to address the dark side of life than most other children’s authors. He was also more [justifiably] critical of adults. Our older two kids are becoming mature enough to face the nuances of the reality that life, the world, and people are not all-good or all-bad. Dahl’s characters have been welcome contributors to our ongoing conversations in this regard!

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, Barbara Robinson ****

What’s the big deal about Advent?

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Actually, Advent not a big deal. I mean it depends on what you think a big deal is. If you’re comparing it to the “big deals” of Christmas gifts to buy, Christmas events to attend, Christmas traditions to uphold… It is not that kind of a big deal. It is a wonderfully quiet, secretively radiant, anticipatory deal. It feels to me like the exact opposite of what usually feels like a “big deal.” And that has made it an even bigger deal to me.

I am still a newcomer to the liturgical calendar. Advent, Epiphany, Lent, Pentecost, Ordinary Time… I grew up in church, but not that kind of church. I haven’t really sought out these seasons; it seems as though I’ve just bumped into them and liked them instantly, like those encounters with a stranger where you leave thinking, “I bet we could be friends.”

Anyway, most of the people I know do not observe any sort of traditional Advent, and a lot of people ask me something to the effect of, “What’s the big deal about Advent?” So, abandoning thoroughness, here are a few of my humble thoughts.

What is Advent? Advent is the season that anticipates Jesus’ birth. Its traditional components are simple. (The following traditions are all a little bit different depending on which church’s calendar you use. I just thought I’d give you the bare bones, as I understand them.)

  1. Candles – traditionally three purple + one pink gathered around a white “Christ” candle, sometimes placed in a wreath. The candles are lit accumulatively at specific times throughout the season. Most people I know who celebrate Advent light them during dinner or during their daily reading time.
  2. Readings – traditionally found in The Book of Common Prayer and comprised of two morning Psalms, three daily readings, and two evening Psalms. They are on a two-year cycle and if you follow them, you will read the New Testament through twice and the Old Testament through once in two years.
  3. 4 weeks – beginning on the fourth Sunday before Christmas. Each week has a traditional theme – Hope, Peace, Joy, Love – in that order. (This year Advent began on December 2.)

There are a lot of things to love about Advent. Here are my top three right now.

  1. Anticipating. My oft critical mind and judgmental heart cannot sustain their criticism when steeped for weeks in the ridiculous idea that God became a baby and Mary pushed him out and her first visitors were a random group of salt-of-the-earth men from the sewage plant.*
  2. Secret. I feel like I’m in on one. One big secret that most people ahead of me in the Target line or sitting across from my booth in the restaurant aren’t even thinking about. Or maybe they are. Because it’s actually a very well-known secret, one almost everyone has heard. It is just one secret that has gotten old for some people and hasn’t really sunk in for others. Well, observing just a few simple Advent practices helps me let it sink in, more in and more in every year. Plus when you find someone else who practices a little bit of Advent – like the readings, for example – it’s delightful to think that you two read the exact same thing that morning, even if you already can’t really even remember it any more.
  3. Rootedness. I love the way that Advent tethers me to the Coming of God. My idea of time requires reorienting. The seasons, ordinarily defined only by observable changes in weather are now also reoriented to the life of Christ. I used to rush through life, hardly batting an eye at the ice, the crocuses, the blooming yucca, the crunching leaves, the ice, the crocuses, the blooming… Now I get to enjoy all of those things in the present while also feeling more rooted in the past realities of a baby God, a man on a cross, a man not in a grave, ordinary time, a baby God, a man on a… God comes to live in my present because God – Emmanuel: God has come to live with us – in the past.

Friends who practice something for Advent – share your thoughts below???

Warmly,
Jocelyn

 

* I know, I know, it wasn’t the sewage plant, but I think that’s a very fair equivalent, don’t you? It might actually be too sterile a comparison – our sewage plant workers are much more sanitary than probably anyone back then, seeing as how in some places, their sewage plants were their streets. Yech.

“Lord, help.”

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Almost all of my prayers right now seem to end with these two searching words: “Lord, help.”

“Lord, help,” might sound desperate, but God can handle desperation. He can do something with despair. He just can’t do as much with its opposite: the buttoned-up and the already-got-it-all-figured-out.

“Lord, help,” might sound simple, but God does not need you to impress him with your flowery intellectualism. He can do something with simplicity. He just can’t do as much with its opposite: the it’s-complicated and the smarty-pants-snob.

“Lord, help,” might sound irresponsible, but God does not need you to prove that you can do anything without him. He can do something with the humility of letting someone else help. He just can’t do as much with its opposite: the I’ve-got-this-all-on-my-own.

“Lord, help,” might sound like a catch-all, but isn’t that exactly what God is, in a manner of speaking: the Catch-All for all of Life? If Christ’s Death was the catch-all “I’ve got you” for everything bad that happens in our lives, then Christ’s Coming Back to Life was the the catch-all promise that there is always, always, always Hope.

“Lord, help,” might sound trite, but is isn’t trite if you mean it, so mean it just as much as you can mean it, and God’ll know it. He can do a whole lot with the wholest-heart you can give him.

Lord, help. Help us all. Amen.

walk through the leaves

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hiking at Mt. Rainier National Park last weekend #nofilter

Have you taken a walk through the leaves yet? Consider this your friendly reminder to do so.

(Unless of course you’re one of my southern hemisphere, arctic, equatorial, or Montana(!) readers. Sorry.)

At the risk of sounding like a positive-thinking life coach or ethereal breathing instructor, I just can’t stand the thought of any of us making it through fall and into winter without spending at least twenty minutes sometime at a leisurely pace, tromping through the leaves. It is such a rich sensory experience: leaves crunching, leaves sogging, leaves whisking, sun pouring, sun beating, wind biting, wind bending, rain misting, rain drenching, rain dripping.

I know you’re busy, but please-oh-please just put it in your calendar right now and do it sometime this week. I’ll sleep much better. 😉 You can even take a photo of it and tag me on instagram if that’ll help motivate you.

This season never fails to catch me off guard: that one of the most vivid and splendorous times of our year is brought to us by all sorts of death. Death = beautiful. Ha! There’s an upside down idea to think about while you traipse through the leaves.

(Unless of course you bring your kids and they won’t let you get a quiet thought in edgewise. But still take them; it’ll be better with them, anyway.)

Warmly,
Jocelyn

something better than Good, Fine, Great

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photo by Camille Orgel for Unsplash

 

“How was your weekend?”

“Good.”

“How’s work going?”

“Fine.”

“How’s your friend, so-and-so?”

“Oh, he’s great. Yeah, just great.”

Sounds familiar, right? Isn’t that pretty much the sum of 95% of our in-passing conversations?

I’ll let you in on a little secret: Sometimes, in-passing, I’m flat out lying. And I know you are, too. Sometimes it’s not Good, Fine, or Great. Sometimes it’s Meh, Ugh, and Blech.

Here’s the thing: our problem isn’t our in-passing lying. No, there’s a time and a place for everything, even quick and semi-dishonest answers. Our biggest problem is that we expect life to be perpetually Good, Fine, and Great, with absolutely no Not-So-Great interruptions. We keep working so hard to achieve Good, Fine, Great and we get sad, frustrated, and sometimes despairing when we keep coming up with Meh, Ugh, and Blech instead.

Maybe we’re expecting the wrong things. Maybe God has better things for our lives than just Good, Fine, Great.

Like salvation.

Salvation has taken on a much bigger meaning in the past few years of my studies. (I’ve written about it before at Life with Jocelyn: here and here, for example.) It has been a wondrously freeing and humbly eye-opening experience to learn that I’d been using the word “saved” and thinking of the concept of “salvation” in a completely different way than Jesus and the Bible use that word. Furthermore, I have read and met a widening cloud of Christians who have a very different – much broader, much more ongoing – idea of salvation than I had had. And they got their ideas from the same Bible as me! To think!?

Salvation is the ongoing healing, restoring, rescuing, re-making, re-forming work of God in, of, and through all creation. All of creation is being saved. All of God’s work is salvific. Much of what is already happening in this world that is healing, restoring, rescuing, re-making, re-forming things is God doing God’s salvation work. Count on it. The more hidden and unknown, quiet and humble it is, the more you can be sure of it being so.

You have already in your lifetime received many tastes of the salvation of God, whether or not you’ve given God credit. And the salvation of God is ready today for further tasting, if you will only stick out your tongue. And tomorrow you’ll receive the salvation of God again, if you know what’s good for you.

One more thing: healing, restoring, rescuing, re-making, re-forming are nice sounding words, but when God does them in my life and heart, they are not always nice feeling. In fact, usually they do not feel nice at all. Ideas I’ve clung to for years must be broken down and thrown out. Coping mechanisms I’ve used for decades must be wrenched from my white-knuckled grip. Things I’ve always really treasured must be exposed for the sub-par loves that they are. When I finally experience the freedom that results, that is a nice feeling. But there are many good reasons why the symbol of the salvation work of God is a cross, a death.

This week in The Way of a Pilgrim, first written in Russian by anonymous, I came across the following. A starets, or monk, gave this encouragement to the pilgrim brother whose had encountered a series of very grim life events:

God orders every event for the help and salvation of man; ‘He willeth that all men should be saved.’ Take courage then [in the midst of your many distresses]… Soon you will be rejoicing much more than you are now distressed.

I’d always thought, unthinkingly, that ‘He willeth that all men should be saved,’ meant that God doesn’t want anyone’s soul to go to hell when their body dies. I’d never before connected ‘He willeth that all men should be saved,’ with God’s ordering every event in our lives for our help and salvation. What a refreshing perspective on all of the stuff that goes wrong in life! God wants everyone to be saved. Sometimes salvation can only come about through distresses and Meh, Ugh, Blech. Do not expect only Good, Fine, Great; you will only be disappointed. Expect salvation, knowing that salvation cannot come only through perpetual, uninterrupted Good, Fine, Great.

Next time your weekend is rotten or your workday goes badly or you’re sure your friends don’t like you, just pray to God in your heart: ‘He willeth that all men should be saved.’ God wants you to be saved! God wants to save you. God wants you to experience – today – more and more salvation. God is at work. God is saving you, vigorously and vibrantly!

You don’t have to be happy when your weekend sucks and your work is going nowhere and your friends never text you. You can still feel plenty sad about all of that. But make sure just to be sad. Do not let yourself become sad and despairing. You must not despair: God is at work. God is saving you, vigorously and vibrantly! Maybe God will even use your Meh, Ugh, and Blech life to do so. How then can you despair?