Author: Caroline

When I'm not riding in the backseat of my Grandpa's restored vintage car "Mable," I'm doing other things like... rising to most adventure occasions my husband proposes / chasing our toddler around Brooklyn / enjoying neighbors, strangers, and friends / making countless trips to the laundromat / writing for various publications and for personal reflection / loving and serving our local church / cleaning the bathroom / hosting small and big crowds in our home / meeting up with a friend for coffee / thinking Vocation is my strange frenemy. Though I have worked and existed in many stations/places, I am convinced that each day has good work to be done and that I am equipped and prepared to do that good work. This blog explores the tension and the intersection of a constant vocational call - to good work, neighbor love, and living in the kingdom come. My favorite things are coffee and creating and laughing (preferably with company). I love to listen to sermons and read biographies and make tea before going to bed.

yet

If it doesn’t break your heart, it isn’t love.

I know – weird to bring up breaking hearts on a day like today, but I couldn’t resist. There are so many hearts flying around I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. Truly, this day is a beautiful one for too many reasons (see last year’s Sweet Dinner). I’ve kind of got a love affair with this celebration and I’m missing the ladies I’ve spent it with for the past three years. It’s a time when I remember how beautiful it is to be made in God’s image and that His image is relational. So beautiful!

It also means that today I’m reflecting a bit on how we’re a broken reflection of Christ. Our relationships aren’t the way they were designed to be.

And that’ll break your heart.
But, I love the bold statement in this song: I’ll sing until my heart caves in. And I will – even though there are oh-so-many reasons to lament the brokenness, God hasn’t let go of His purpose to pursue people with His love.

Oh that my heart would break for what breaks His!
And that He would sing songs on my heart to overwhelm the pain.

If it doesn’t break your heart, it isn’t love.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 2

This is from the pen of someone I admire, Brett McCracken who blogs at http://www.stillsearching.wordpress.com. This kind of made me wish in a big way I was at that poetry reading. Read the rest here.

Brett's avatarThe Search

I was privileged this week to attend a poetry reading and lecture by poet Dana Gioia at Biola, and it was exquisite (I still look back on a 2008 poetry reading of Gioia’s at St. Mary’s in Oxford as one of the aesthetic highlights of my life).

Gioia shared several quite insightful thoughts about art, creation, and how we might become better artists/poets/writers. One of his observations particularly struck me. He said that one thing that most great writing, poetry and art share is a deep connection with and observation of place; that the best creators are usually the ones that are most connected to places and most attuned to the culture, people, customs and environs of the world around them, and particularly of the roots from which they’ve sprung.

Gioia lamented that when he observes people these days (mostly, but not exclusively, younger folks and “digital natives”), they seem place-less

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Posted on by Caroline 0

lost in translation

"Luke", mixed media on canvas (Makoto Fujimura)

As I sat listening to Nancy Pearcey, my pen wavered, scribbled, wavered, and surrendered. Her masterful articulation put my pen strokes to shame. I won’t try to summarize or capture her description of Francis Schaeffer‘s two story dichotomy in our society today. For that, I will wait to dive into the pages of Saving Leonardo: A Call to Resist the Secular Assault on Mind, Morals, and Meaning.

For now, I want to mention one thought: lost in translation.

When Pearcey was asked, “How can we bring this message to our culture today – what do we do practically to get this message out?” at the end of her seminar, she lamented a dreadful linguistic loss. She sighed, “Well, we talk about it.”

Sadly, it’s hard to find words and harder to find conversants. As we rush into “progress” and grow out of our too-small, sacred shoes, the Gospel gets lost in translation. As Makoto Fujimura, prominent NYC artist, describes it,

“We, today, have a language to celebrate waywardness, but we do not have a cultural language to bring people back home.”

Tonight, I watched the film 50/50 with some friends. I was struck by all the ways language broke down around the main character diagnosed with cancer.
His friend fails to communicate love as he follows the haphazard advice of a book.
His girlfriend can’t find words to describe her guilt.
His therapist can only speak textbook and theory.
His father speaks the language of forget and his mother, worry.
And he, the main character, tries hard to speak no language at all.

Today, we have all sorts of language to walk people out to the ledge, but (in all our progress) we struggle to give a living translation of the Gospel in a way that brings people to the only safe Refuge.

God designed us for relationship – a right relationship with Him and Creation. So far, we’ve used great word wizardry to narrate – even glorify – the ways these relationships are wrong. We flood the cinemas with the drama and doom of this language. We overwhelm bookshelves with this unsettling lexicon.

So where is the Gospel in the language of this culture?

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 1

upheld

L’abri Conference
Rochester, Minnesota
February 10-11

Today I’m surrounded by eager minds and running pens.

“Christ brought the universe into existence with His speech and only by His speech does it continue to be upheld.”

It was some version of this sentence that settled deep – especially that one word: upheld.

There is not one movement, material, musical note, or molecular formation that exists in this day without being upheld by Christ through His speech. His words – most powerful words – hold all things together. All things.

We fret over governments and institutions and the unraveling of societies, but we forget the One who is sovereign over all things, Whose word alone holds all things together.

Calvin writes, in his Institutes,

“While it becomes man seriously to employ his eyes in considering the works of God, since a place has been assigned him in this most glorious theater that he may be a spectator of them, his special duty is to give ear to the Word, that he may the better profit.”

I can only imagine the kind of “becoming” Calvin meant – perhaps that our taking an active role in marveling at the glory of Creation would send us on the most beautiful earthly course toward heaven. But it is this second phrase which captures me now, “…his special duty is to give ear to the Word, that he may the better profit.”

“In the beginning was the Word,” we read in John, “and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”

Let us respond to our special duty and so better profit – give ear to the Word, Christ Himself. By Him our very existence is upheld.

When Christ was tempted in the desert, how did He respond?
“It is written…”
Wasn’t he, in fact, saying, “I Am He.”

The very words that held the desert together as a backdrop for this dramatic scene were breathed out of Christ Himself – the Living Word. In Him all things hold together (Colossians 1:17). Miraculous.

And can it be that in Him we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28)? Inside the Word, we live and move and have our being?

This is what it means to be human: to be in the Word, marveling at a universe hanging on the very words of its Creator.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

tethered

I think sometimes my heart sings when my words are confused and silent. Sometimes those songs my heart sings are a welcome tether to a soul too-often floating on the breeze. I don’t love the idea of tethers, but with a heart prone to wander, I’m well aware of my need.

In the middle of Monday night, a wretched 24-hour flu monster attacked from underneath my bed. My body ached. My head pounded (partially due to caffeine withdrawal). My gut wrenched. Sick. Sick. Sick.

Tuesday was a blur.

Wednesday I prayed God would show strong in my weakness and He was my tether. I shared with some beautiful ladies about God’s design for us as women – something He had planned from the very beginning to showcase His glory. God is so gracious to let me see Him in these faces – to let me watch Him move in my near-nauseous state.
What a gift to be tethered.

And when my soul drifts away, He is my tether.

I hope these songs encourage you today, reminding you of your need for a tether.
Don’t fight it, friends.

Home by Ginny Owens
 
Pilgrim by Preson Philips
 
Washed by the Water by NEEDTOBREATHE
 

let LOVE fly like cRaZy

Posted on by Caroline 0

human eyes; heaven sight

This morning the ice clung to brown, lifeless branches.
And we are all dying.

This past weekend my mom sent an email my aunt wrote about my grandpa’s graceful, shuffling steps into this strange season of life. I’ve re-read these words so many times – grateful for the way they hug my soul. I know my dad and his seven siblings feel the weight of love and the weight of age in this man in a way I cannot, but as I read my aunt’s words my eyes were wet with something new.

She wrote,

Dad’s prayers were so personal and full of thanksgiving to His Savior, especially mentioned was the gift of Eternity and his family.  He didn’t want to walk this road, but it’s here, and he is going to walk it with grace and dignity to the best of his ability, and with his Savior’s and his family’s help.

Our bodies fail. They fall apart.
And we shuffle where we once skipped.
We shake where we once snapped with the energy of youth. We age.
Our eyes grow dim and our ears faint. Mortals.

But the stiffness of his joints has not crept to his heart.

Eternity looks just as glorious on the horizon with shuffled steps as it does with skips.
The promise of salvation is as bright with eyes of age as it is with the eyes of youth.

And with every sunset, one can turn to face the rest of the sky and see a glorious reflection. All the mysterious hues that explode before night falls, chasing after the golden orb, light up the rest of the blue expanse and color the clouds.

I’m witnessing this reflection as I watch my grandpa – human eyes with heaven sight.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.                                                    2 Corinthians 4:18

There is no way around it – we have human eyes confined to human bodies and human limits. But our sight – oh, our sight – is able to see clear through to heaven.

As Grandpa fixes his eyes on the unseen, we are blessed to watch the sky light up with the glory of his heavenly pursuit.

The ice will melt and the trees will bloom.
Let the winter come, for it is the only path to Spring.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
with human eyes and heaven sight 

Posted on by Caroline 4

abide

Today, the Sabbath.

Today is a deep breath – to shed the strivings of six days toil and put on the Savior’s rest. Return, my friends. Return to rest.

Even if this day finds you in front of a screen, screaming for grown men in tight suits… even then, my friends, won’t you return to rest?

Today, I pray we abide in our Savior – in His love. I pray we regain our sight for the Kingdom of God – for the glorious already and not yet promises fulfilled in Christ. Because our eyes too often settle on a predictable horizon and we miss what lies beyond.

Our toil for this day – the Sabbath – is to trust the Savior is every bit of what He claims.

Trust. And return to rest, friends.

Posted on by Caroline 4

this & that

It’s been awhile. Have you missed the linkage?
Don’t answer that.
Here are some things for you to click on, look up, read about, and ponder. Enjoy!

This post over at Gospel Coalition, “Searching for Paradise in The Descendants“ makes me realize how out of touch I am with the film industry these days. Unless it shows up in blog posts I follow, I probably don’t know about it. After reading this description, I’m at least interested (although they do warn about spoilers) in seeing this film.

I really appreciated this post by Tim Challies, “Empty Minds, Empty Hearts, Empty Lives,” though it is depressing to step back and look at how we live dependent on manmade tools. After looking at several research studies, he writes, “It’s not just that we are no longer remembering things, but we are entrusting to our tools the things we used to entrust to ourselves.”

Learning Worship from Idolaters is a good reminder as we all get together and get crazy about sports this weekend. Honestly, I kind of forgot the Super Bowl was happening this Sunday until a new friend asked if I wanted to come to their party. I was so relieved she asked because I probably would’ve wondered where everyone went on Sunday afternoon.

My cousin Vince and I are kind of in a band – we sing for the walls in the basement and we’re working on two covers right now – Bob Dylan’s, “It ain’t me, babe” and John Mayer’s, “Daughters.”

This book by Russell Moore is on my list of “need to read.” This book trailer gives you an idea of what, “Tempted and Tried” is all about.

Russell Moore also wrote, The Humanity of Christ Matters recently and it reminded me of some of my reflections around Christmastime – how we always view Christ in a manger with rosy lenses. Moore asked his seminary students if they thought Jesus had ever vomited, they didn’t know how to respond. He writes, “The answer to this question has to do, first of all, with the one-dimensional picture of Jesus so many of us have been taught, or have assumed. Many of us see Jesus either as the ghostly friend in the corner of our hearts, promising us heaven and guiding us through difficulty, or we see him simply in terms of his sovereignty and power, in terms of his distance from us. No matter how orthodox our doctrine, we all tend to think of Jesus as a strange and ghostly figure.”

I loved reading Eric Metaxas‘ biography of Bonhoeffer, so I was interested to see what he would say at the National Prayer Breakfast. You should probably read this article, “Pious Baloney” … it might surprise you. I’m also interested to know what you think.

Okay, that’s all I’ve got because I have some serious homework to do today for Perspectives, in addition to a meeting with a monster called taxes. I’m considering writing a letter to the IRS with a white flag enclosed, “I have no idea what I’m doing so if I make mistakes it’s not because I’m trying to cheat you out of money, but because I just really have no idea what I’m doing.”

 

Posted on by Caroline 2

Men Without Chests … and the miseducation of children

I posted this several years ago, but I’ve been thinking about it recently (especially in light of the rumblings in the presidential primaries).

_________________________________________________________________________

The book starts with an eloquent description of an elementary text book.

An interesting object on which to base an argument, but C.S. Lewis does just that in his opening of what was originally a lecture series titled “The Abolition of Man” (the subtitle reads: Reflections on education with special reference to the teaching of English in the upper forms of schools).

With all the nebulous talk of improved education among scholars and legislators, I have long wondered if there is truth to the fabled “subliminal message.” After painstakingly reading one of Lewis’ most controversial books, I submit that merely wondering at such a possibility is just as damaging as promoting it.

C.S. Lewis refers to the elementary text in question as The Green Book and sets out to argue that the authors teach very little about literature. In fact, The Green Book essentially seeks to ‘debunk’ the existence of any objective value.

Now, that may not strike you as dangerous or deceiving, but this ideological shift is not so plainly described by the authors. The example Lewis gives from their book cites the “well-known story of Coleridge at the waterfall” (of which I knew little) where one tourist called a waterfall sublime and the other pretty. Lewis writes that Coleridge, a renowned poet, mentally endorsed the first description and was disgusted in the second. This is the excerpt from The Green Book:

‘When a man said This is sublime, he appeared to be making a remark about the waterfall… Actually … he was not making a remark about the waterfall, but a remark about his own feelings. What he was really saying was really I have feelings associated in my mind with the word “sublime,” or shortly, I have sublime feelings.’

Keep in mind, the young mind for which this text is intended has little reference for such a proposition. Boys and girls are more concerned with receiving good marks then defending the notion of objective value. And herein lies the danger.

The authors (possibly unintentionally) are making no claims about literature. They are instead suggesting that human sentiment is contrary to reason and ought to be eradicated. Interestingly enough, as Lewis points out, to say something is reasonable or unreasonable means that there must be a standard to make that judgment.

And now, by way of this disastrous summary of Lewis’ first chapter, we start to see the development of Men Without Chests. Assuming objective value is unreasonable, Lewis moves toward the logical question: On what grounds does any value exist in the world and what force would move me to protect this fleeting, traditional idea?

Interestingly enough, though this idea is purported in institutions across the country, the opposite is expected in life’s vernacular. Students might be taught to disregard value and view all things in relativistic terms, yet when it is time to preserve society, all are called to sacrificially stand on the high grounds of character. Lewis writes that youth are encouraged to strive to be people of character, while being conditioned to believe such traits are unreasonable.

“In a sort of ghastly simplicity,” Lewis writes, “we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise.”

Strip life of sentiment and you are left with a skeleton. Relativism may be trendy and “progressive,” but this kind of progress would lead straight to humankind’s demise. There will simply always be those who make the rules and those that follow them. If the rule makers decide life is void of sentiment, they will certainly reap the benefits of this stale standard.

Dangerous? yes. Deceptive? yes. Merely wondering at the possibility of ‘value debunked’ is just as damaging as promoting it. Can we recapture the necessary distinction of humanity? Can we hold firm the objective value intrinsic to our created nature? I believe we were born for such a purpose.

Maybe someone should write a children’s book about it.

___________________________________________________________________

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
the true, beautiful kind

Posted on by Caroline 5

where is the floor in the morning?

She was special. All my students were, but she was especially special.

I listened again this past week, via text, to the valleys that seem to stretch too long in her still-young life. I felt the too-familiar cringe curling my insides with the empty question, “Why?”

This child – God’s beloved child – walks every day a lone candle into a dark place. She has seen more messes in this life than I can count, but she is a candle all the same and her light shines on and dispells darkness.

And I remembered.
I wrote,
“Where will you find the floor tomorrow morning?”
She said, “right under my feet, beside my bed… everywhere I place my foot.”

I smiled.

It had come out in the middle of one of our ‘pep talks,’ sitting on furniture that had been rejected from all other offices. I don’t remember the subject exactly, but I remember how it ended. I was asking this very special girl if there was anything to know for certain when the world swirled like crazy around her. I was asking her if she could be sure of anything at all inside the broken mess of her days.

And that’s when I asked,
“When you get out of bed tomorrow morning, where will your feet land?”
“…on the floor?”
“And have you ever gotten out of bed in the morning to find the floor is gone?”
“… Um, no.”
“God is like that. You are His child and He is forever. He will not change with the amount of mess or blessing in your life. He will always, always be what your faith and hope stand on – and He will not move.”

Our whole house can crumble around us, but there is always this ground – this terra firma where we walk out our existence. There is always this ground, a solid foundation for each shaky step.

God is this foundation when the sunlight breaks through the window in the morning to shine on what was dark during the night.
God is this foundation when the shadows scurry under beds and behind doors.
God is this foundation when friendships dissolve and sadness overwhelms.

God is this foundation when we swing our feet out of bed every morning.

let LOVE fly like cRaZy
in the refuge of the King

Posted on by Caroline 2