Forgiveness

This is going to be brief, rambling, and only slightly relevant, but bear with me.



I have been confronted with the need to forgive. Certain people, whether I know them or not, have been brought to my mind in the context that the grudge I hold against them needs to leave. But it's not like it can just up and walk out. Tangible damage has been done and thus tangible action must be taken to mend that damage.



At first I was slightly put out that, as a Christian, I was commanded to forgive these people by whom I have been wronged. Forgiveness out of compulsion is not tangible. It's a wish that that wound will whisk itself into oblivion. In reality, it worms its way deeper into the heart as the heart begins to feel pretty good about the attempt at forgiveness.



Then I was reminded that, as a Christ-follwer, I was commanded to forgive these people by whom I have been wronged-the way that Christ forgave me. He absorbed the wounds I had inflicted on Him, not dodging them as they boomeranged out and back. He took in His own Body. And as a a Christ-follower who is growingly grateful for the incomprensible love shown to me, the command to forgive becomes and honor.



It is an honor (honor is not common or easy) to immitate the One that I admire most. It is an honor to set Me aside as He set Him aside. It is an honor to look that offense in the face, feel the full weight and pain it brings and slowly, surely, painfully, even agonizingly strip it of its power. It is an honor to die again and again with that wound and watch it die again and again until it is no more.

It is a joy to forgive.

Bed Bugs and Grace

This summer has come and gone faster than something really fast. Like Lightening McQueen or a turtle on Rollerblades. It's been filled with fun times with good friends; hard times with my cat; lots of babysitting and, as the title suggests, Bed Bugs!

Well, it's just been the past two weeks that have had bed bugs. We were notified by our building that there was an infestation. Not necessarily in out apartment, but we had to follow precautionary procedures nonetheless. To save a lot of typing and whining, I will just tell you that my apartment had not looked that way that it does since I moved in. That includes discombobulated furniture, very clean floors and lots of clothes in bags. In fact, I did six loads of laundry last night. And I made tacos. It was a grand old time.

But all that to say, bed bugs can teach you a lot. Andy and I were driving back from MI last weekend and we got to talking about grace. I realized that I was seriously lacking. I had gotten all in a huff about being inconvenienced over other people's poor hygienic practices and the resulting infestation. I blew up in front of my poor roomie who was having a bad day even without me going postal on her. And while I did what was required of me and, Praise The Lord, there are no bug in my apartment. I have this feeling that I was nigh until intolerable. I should have taken a moment to cool a little and say to myself: "Self, chill! This is not the end of the world. It is merely and opportunity to practice all sorts of wonderful, Biblical, even ecumenical maxims. Lesson learned for now. Here's hoping that it will stick.

The one entertaining thing about all this is my cat's reaction. She's not a happy camper at all. We've been fighting lately, but that's ok. At least she's not hiding behind the fridge like our neighbor's cat...

Surrender

So, for those of you who are familiar with the Baptist (or any variation thereof) tradition, you will know that the song "I Surrender All" serves mainly one purpose. Someone southern evangelist proclaims that you're a sinner and that you need to repent and you agree and come "down front" all the while listening to an ancient organist play "I Surrender All" on a Yamaha synth. It is an emotional experience that is supposed to change your life.

Now, I'm not saying that it does not. In fact, I am certain that God uses our emotions to get our attention, but emotions don't last long. Unfortunately, the memory of "I Surrender All" on a Yamaha synth might and it might taint what would otherwise be a very challenging song.

The song has been stuck in my head this morning and I have found it to be rather applicable to life even though I have since passed through the trials of the synth. I had always figured that the "surrender" was just that initial choice to become a Christian; it is not. In fact, as the term "Christian" really means to be a Christ follower (not a member of a radical religious sect), inherently, that moment with the synth is just the beginning of the surrender. It is a life long process.

The fact that I have just realized this is a little daunting, but knowing is half the battle, right?

Empress Charmin

The other day I was sitting in the local corner coffee shop with my friend, Anna. We were having a great time catching up on what had happened in our lives since we graduated from High School and college and she'd gotten married and I'd moved to this lovely town. As we chatted, we also watched people come in and out. It's an interesting thing to do in that corner of the city, really. But today, I saw something that I'd never seen before.

A woman in her mid-forties walked past us in search of a table. There was little to distinguish her from the rest of the population of the café. Yet we did take notice of her, and almost immediately, too. You see, there was an 18" long piece of toilet paper hanging out of the back of her pants. She didn't seem the kind of woman who would wear toilet paper just for the sake of it, or even as an anthropological experiment. My guess is that she took herself rather seriously.

In an effort to aid this poor lady (after snickering for a moment) Anna and I resolved that the offending tissue must be removed. She walked past us several times before we had the opportunity or the courage to make a grab for it. I was the lucky one. As the toilet paper came within reach, I calculated that it would take a good, yet subtle tug to extract it from the back of her pants. I held my breath and held the end of the TP as she passed. Unfortunately, my calculations were incorrect and as I pulled, it continued coming!! I didn't want her to catch me with her toilet paper, so I released it and exhaled.

As the woman exited our section of the coffee shop, Anna and I remained worried about the effect that toilet paper would have on her image. We resolved to continue the TP removal mission. Very Dangerous. We had only one more chance and we failed. We blew it. She would forever be known as Empress Charmin. So much for my good deed of the day.

Postlogue: A few moments after our final, failed attempt, Her Highness reentered our territory TP free! The mystery of how she lost her tail will remain for all times, but I think that I can safely say that we all lived happily ever after.

How I Spend Lunch (Money)

Lunchtime often finds me sitting in the Great Hall of Union Station with my boyfriend or my nose buried in a book. Today, my companion was the former. Not a poor substitute. I had been happily immersed in the world of Lord Peter Wimsey for 45 minutes when my bliss was broken by the timid request of a young man for my attention.

Having lived in Chicago for nearly 6 years, I try to ignore people who interrupt my lunch break, but he was persistant. I looked up and saw that he was about my age, perhaps a bit younger and right off a college campus. Turns out that the poor guy had traveled to Chicago to visit his girlfriend who promptly broke up with him. On Valentine's Day nonetheless! She'd left him penniless, brokenhearted and stuck in the city. He needed a bit of cash to try to make it back to his hometown, Indianapolis.

Feeling generous, I not only gave him a smile and a few bucks, but I also gave him one of my Really Cool Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End Valentine's Day cards. He thanked me and headed off in the direction of the Amtrak Ticket Counter. Nice kid, but there were still lurking doubts. It's not like I'm not accustomed to being lied to concerning cash, and I wasn't sure that he wasn't lying either, but why not give him the benefit of the doubt. Innocent until proven guilty. Isn't that how it goes?

Well, as soon as the guy left, a vagabond sitting behind me turned, looked me in the eye and declared that I'd been taken in. I didn't really want to believe it, but I had a bit of time left on my lunch break, so I hopped off to see if the Amtrak Ticket Counter was really where the kid had gone.

I followed him out of the Great Hall, past the ticket counter, up the escalator and out to Canal Street where he met up with a couple older, disreputable-looking men and lit up. Rather indignant, I strolled right past him and his buddies and wished him a Good Day (!). I'm not really sure that that was exactly what I wanted to say, but it was better than nothing. It made me frustrated not only at my own gullibility, but also at the disregard that some people have for their fellow humans. In order to put some of my pride back into whack, I returned to the Great Hall and thanked the perceptive vagabond before returning to work.

All that to say, don't give people money unless you feel like it. Most likely (99% of the time) they are lying to you.

The moral of the story: I should spend more lunches with Lord Peter Wimsey. Even when I have to drink cup-a-soup for lunch, Peter still has heaps of cash and I can go enjoy those riches anytime that I want!

Weakness

I have been exhausted of late. Those who know me well will tell you that that's a dangerous state for me (and everyone else). But all the same, through exercises of body, heart and mind, I've come to see life in ways to which I'd not previously been privy. I'd never felt and seen so much of the hurt, the pain, the sin that exists. It's made my heart feel heavy.

I am a happy, healthy twenty-something with lots of friends, a wonderful boyfriend and an awesome God. You'd think that I had it all, but I want more. I want to take on the world. I want everyone to know that they are special and wonderful and loved. I want to be there for them all, but I can't. I've been asking for more and this is what has manifested itself-this desire to love, to love more than I possibly can. I have no clue how this is going to happen, but I do know the God through whom all things are possible. Guess that's a good place to start.

Inaugural Blog

So, does posting on the official "Blog.com" website mean that I'm now Blogging for the first time? I have a Xanga site, and you should visit it (http://www.xanga.com/jenjibre), but is that really and truly "blogging"? Today I was eating those little Dove Promise things and on my tinfoil wrapper was written "Remember your first everything." I remember a lot of first things that are important to me. Things like my first solo I ever and the first time I failed a test and the first time I beat my sister at Monopoly.

But I was wondering if I should remember this. I suppose that I could remember it just for the sake of remembering it even if it is not a first. But that, in my mind, begs the question: "Are first things the only things worth remembering?" But then you have to define "first". Everything that you do could be said to be the first. As creatures who necessarily live in time, every day, every hour, every second is new. So anything done before can never be done the same way again because the linear quality of our existence.

Oh, you have caught me in the act of, as my boyfriend puts it, chasing my tail. I promise that it's not something that I do often, so don't be scared off. I look forward to you returning! Until my first second posting, I bid you adieu!