Piles of Good

Beauty is out there, waiting to be found.

Image from polyvore.com

Sometimes, it's hard to look at the world and find anything but darkness. The news is one uninterrupted stream of tragedy and frustration, leading some to believe that this world is beyond saving. When children are shot and stabbed at school and national heroes fall from grace, it is so terribly simple to slip into negativity and cynicism. In moments of pain and despair, fighting the good fight seems both useless and futile. That's when Doctor Who shines the brightest, with its almost petulant stand for optimism against the backdrop of a jaded world. It never, for one instant, lets you give up on hope. It always reminds you that good exists and is worth fighting for.

Good things and bad things.

The following scene is from series 5's "Vincent and the Doctor." In this episode, Eleven and Amy have an adventure with Vincent Van Gogh in the final months of his life. We see just how much Vincent struggles with depressive episodes as well as feelings of worthlessness and alienation. Amy is particularly moved to help him, somehow, as he is her favorite artist; she hurts to see him so distraught. She and the Doctor manage to give him joy and purpose as they battle a monster together, and finally (SPOILERS) they take him to the future to show him just how beloved a painter he becomes. Vincent is overwhelmed and starts to cry, and they drop him off in 19th century Paris, leaving him encouraged and energized about life. Amy wants to go back to the museum to see if their interaction with him has resulted in new paintings, but when they arrive, she learns Vincent killed himself anyway without painting anything else after they left. She laments that they didn't make a difference at all. The dialogue that follows is simply beautiful:

I love every bit about this clip. I'll break it down line by line.

"Every life is a pile of good things and bad things."

This is so true - experientially and biblically. No one makes it out of this world without tasting the bitterness of sin's effects and the sweetness of the gift of living. No one is promised only good (see my favorite verse, John 16:33), and no one receives only bad (Matthew 7:9-11). Really, it's how the individual chooses to see and act toward each experience, each pile, that determines his outlook on life as a whole. The sum of an individual, ultimately, is how he allows each pile to affect him.

"The good things don't always soften the bad things."

I appreciate this remark, because through it Eleven validates the pain that comes with the bad things. Reading between the lines a bit, the Doctor is saying that bad things are, well, bad. They hurt. They affect you deeply and negatively. They have the capacity to steal your joy. In this line, he normalizes the sting of bad things without condemning the natural emotions that accompany them.

Why am I emphasizing this? Too often, people (Christians especially) have a mindset that you should never give into sadness or grief or even anger when life catapults unripe lemons at your face. As if you don't have a right to be upset when you lose your job, when a loved one dies, or you suffer from disease. As if keeping your chin up and always smiling is the only acceptable, "holy" reaction to life. This mentality frustrates me to no end. Yes, I agree that one shouldn't wallow in self-pity, but God gave us emotions and they are the truest things about us. When you have to bury a child, it is perfectly acceptable to be heartbroken and angry. Why? Because it's a bad thing!

Nowhere in the Bible does it say that followers of God aren't allowed to have negative emotions. In fact, Ecclesiastes says, in chapter 3, that there is an appropriate time to mourn. Telling someone who is suffering that he or she must be happy is both insensitive and wrong. Spiritualizing it doesn't help, either. Romans 12:15 says to "mourn with those who mourn," not to correct the attitude of those who mourn. Empathy, or at least sympathy, goes a long way, and I wish more Christians would exercise it. But I'll get off my counseling philosophy soapbox, now.

"The bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things..."

Preach it, Doctor! When a dump truck unloads on the bad things pile, it is so easy to forget that another pile exists. But the thing about piles is that they're plural; there are two distinct heaps. Bad things go in the bad things pile - they don't ooze over to the good things and dissolve them like acid. At the end of the day, each life will have two piles, and it's not the size that matters. It's the quality.

At this point in the episode, Amy is looking at the bad pile and has her back to the good. But the Doctor, like the great friend he is, gently reminds her that it's there. He says yes, I see the same bad pile as you do, Amelia Pond, and I'm upset about it, too. But it doesn't diminish the good pile. Don't despair too much or you'll miss it.

The key thing the Doctor does is remind her gently. She's in a fragile state, so he embraces her, validates her pain and sweetly but firmly tells her the truth. Fortunately, she is ready to hear it. Unfortunately, that's not always the case. But it doesn't mean we hold back; it merely means we try to understand where the other person is and meet them there with as much grace, love, tenderness, empathy and truth as we can muster.

"...or make them unimportant."

Here, the Doctor reminds us that, while striving to make a positive difference doesn't always end the way we want, the fight itself is never futile or worthless. The fight itself is good. It's hard and definitely painful, but it is good.

At the end of his life, the apostle Paul was writing to his protege and child in the faith, Timothy. Paul was under house arrest, ill and abandoned by all except for the faithful physician, Luke. The life he lived was full of suffering (imagine being beaten, whipped, left for dead and shipwrecked multiple times, all for a "crazy, heretical" belief and then, as a reward at the end of your days, stuck in prison and awaiting sentencing from Rome). In all that, Paul's final words to Timothy are of encouragement and conviction. On the topic of his impending death, Paul writes, "But you, be sober in all things, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry. For I am being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved his appearing." (2 Timothy 4:5-8, NASB)

Finishing your days of preaching the gospel in the confines of your own home may seem like a failure, but Paul shows no signs of allowing the bad things to invalidate the good things he's experienced. I see a measure of healthy pride in his self-reflection - not that he's bragging about how faithful he's been, but that he's pleased with the steps he has taken in his life and isn't allowing his current circumstances to counterbalance or spoil that. Paul's fight was long and strenuous and difficult and sad, but in spite of everything that befell him, he looked back on it all and called it good. Would that we do the same in our own lives.

"We definitely added to his pile of good things."

The Doctor brings it home for Amy and claims the victory. She wanted to make a difference in Vincent's life, and Eleven says she did, by adding to his good things pile. I think that's beautiful in its simplicity. Humans are funny in that we have so much and so little power. We can tear down and build up others with words and deeds, but our contributions are so fleeting and limited in comparison with the true, omnipotent power of God. Really, the best we can possibly be is pitiful in comparison with the majesty that God is and what he can do. It's humbling, but it's also uplifting to think that even our small contributions to life on this planet matter. We just need to invest in what counts - loving others and adding to their pile of good things.

Where good things come from

Again, it's funny, but we can't even contribute the smallest bit of good to the pile without getting it from a source outside ourselves. James 1:17-18 says, "Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow. In the exercise of his will he brought us forth by the word of truth, so that we would be a kind of first fruits among his creatures." 

Since good comes from God and we as "Christ-bearers" (and remember that humans are unique in that we bear the image of God - Gen 1) are to reflect who he is to the world as ambassadors of his character, then we are to add to people's good piles. How? "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength." (Deut. 6:5, quoted in Luke 10) Why? "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." (Luke 6:45). Basically, the state of your heart affects how you live, so loving God with all you have leads to loving others. That's why, when asked what the greatest commandment is, Jesus linked loving God with the Golden Rule. When you honor, respect, obey and submit to God, you find yourself treating others with a similar respect and honor and love. So adding good things to people's piles isn't about taking personal action, but about allowing the love of God to flow through you and into other people's hearts. You, then, are a conduit for love and good things, not the wellspring. 

Kinda nice. Less pressure, and we're certain of the quality.

Until next time! May you see the beauty that Vincent saw in the world.

Katya

Don't Blink

Image from weheartit

Also, sorry. "That which holds the image of an Angel becomes itself an Angel."

We're all doomed.

"Don't blink. Blink and you're dead. They're fast - faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away and don't blink. Good luck."

"Blink" is one of the seminal, timeless episodes of New Who that has the ability to turn ordinary geeks into Whovians. "Don't blink" is possibly the most famous catchphrase of any episode, and rightly so. The nefarious Steven Moffat did what he does best: took something we take for granted and turned it into a nightmare. (See "Mummy," shadows, cracks...) The reason the Weeping Angels are so frightening (other than being STATUES that MOVE and KILL YOU nicely) is that only those with incredible self-restraint and forewarning can avoid their deadly touch.

According to the most credible source of information online, Wikipedia, the average human blinks ten times a minute in laboratory settings, and the rate varies depending upon conditions of the eye. Blinking is involuntary and something we don't often notice, especially since it happens so quickly. So the notion that a psychopath can zap you into the past and let you live to death in the span of the time it takes you to blink...it explains why the Weeping Angels are one of the most beloved and feared monsters of the rebooted show. They're uniquely dangerous because they can ruin your life in one instant of seemingly innocuous, natural inattention.

If you think about it, this is a great picture of what can happen when we take our eyes off God:

"Therefore, since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us set aside every weight and sin which so easily ensnares us. Let us run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before him endured a cross and despised the shame and sat down at the right hand of God's throne. For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, so that you won't grow weary and lose heart." Hebrews 12:1-3 (HCSB).

"The eyes are not the windows of the soul. They are the doors."

The above quote is one of my favorites spoken by the Eleventh Doctor in "Time of Angels" because it's essentially a cooler, more ominous version of "be careful little eyes what you see." What your eyes soak in often manifests in your behavior, and if you aren't careful, it can change you for the worse. For example, if all a child knows is violence and anger in the home, his pattern of behavior toward others will probably follow the template with which he's familiar. That's why the Bible tells us over and over to keep our eyes on God and his commandments so that what we focus on will translate to our character and behavior.

And it's funny, because there really isn't anything else of even remotely similar value to set our sights on, anyway. The Bible says that God is more beautiful, wonderful, delightful and awe-inspiring than we can comprehend, yet we are content to turn our gazes to the ugly, vile, deformed and malicious. It's sad, truly sad, that we allow putrescence to step through the doors of our eyes, hearts and minds - willingly and unwillingly - in light of what we're giving up. Deuteronomy 4:24 says "the LORD your God is a jealous God," and can you blame him? What heartbreak he must experience every time we shove him out of the doorframe. "You're turning me away...for this? And you think it'll satisfy you more than the me? I know you perfectly and completely, and I love you perfectly and completely. Will he? Will that?"

The old hymn says "turn your eyes upon Jesus/look full in his wonderful face/and the things of earth will grow strangely dim/in the light of his glory and grace." Now, while the song's context is trusting Christ in times of trouble, I think the quoted refrain is true all the time. If you focus on the mud and muck of life, you will find yourself stuck there and miss life's beauty. If your ultimate perspective and gaze is on God and eternal truth, you will find yourself behaving in a way consistent with getting there.

Realtalk

I'm going to level with you: I've been doing a very bad job of this, lately. It's ironic, since I'm both a full-time seminary student and an employee at a church whose leaders are genuine and passionate followers of Christ. You would think that, being surrounded by the message of the gospel and the picture of Christianity practically 24/7, I would be enjoying the deepest and most fulfilling relationship with the Creator God I've ever had. My situation is evidence that being around truth doesn't mean you live it.

My problem? I have dry eyes. I blink a lot.

Have you ever tried to stare at something without blinking? (Like the angel at the top of this post? Don't worry, someone in cyberspace has to be watching it...) Your eyes require refreshment, and if you don't blink, they start to feel uncomfortable. If they don't get the nourishment they need, they will eventually be damaged.

In a way, I feel that I've been staring at something (theological stimulus in the form of schoolwork and church responsibilities) for so long that my eyes are dry. The answer, however, is not to blink. Blinking (shutting out, even briefly, the truths I'm learning and the relationships I'm building) is dangerous. Blinking can send me back in time and prevent the days I would have had. Or, to use a less nerdy and esoteric phrasing, set my walk with Christ back in its development, stunting it in a way - making me start over.

Blinking can take many forms. It can mean I ignore my daily prayer and devotional time (which I have). Or it can mean I devote an unhealthy amount of time and energy in other things like interests and relationships, making them more important to me than God is. (Done that, too.) Like physical blinking, my spiritual blinks result from my depriving myself of nourishment and are brief but repeated. The problem is that my eyes, like yours, get dry and I need to refresh them. Closing my eyes, looking away, is a natural reflex that I don't even notice I engage in. In a spiritual sense, it's the work of the flesh - something involuntary and essential to my being. It's natural for me to want to look away for a bit, to blink when I look at God. And that's the problem.

The solution

I wear contacts, and the one thing that never leaves my side is my contact solution. It's saline drops that refreshes my eyes when they're starved of natural airflow and nourishment due to the lens covering my pupil. Without my precious solution, I deal with irritable, dry eyes and my vision gets cloudy because my contacts aren't being washed properly by my natural tears. Blinking a lot never helps this situation, because I can't produce enough liquid in my tear ducts to do the job right. I need to infuse my eyes with external nourishment to see clearly, again.

Similarly, staring at Christ without doing anything gives me dry spiritual eyes. Blinking doesn't help. Taking action and actually walking with him provides the nourishment I need and is my spiritual contact solution. What does that look like, practically? For me, it means reading my Bible, spending time praying, journaling, singing/writing praise songs, participating in a community of believers, having quiet times of reflection and listening, and getting involved in the "work of the kingdom" as some like to put it (e.g. demonstrating Christian love via service, missions and encouragement of believers). Without this, I dry up. I blink. I stop progressing in my relationship with God and in fact set my relationship back, or at least let it stagnate.

Is spiritual nourishment easy? Of course not. We're fighting the powerful and natural tendency to blink. But it's worth it, especially when the alternative is so dangerous. Paul talks about this in Romans:

"For although they knew God, they neither glorified him nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, the became fools, and exchanged the glory of immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles. Therefore, God gave them over to in the sinful desires of their hearts to  sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another. They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshipped and served created things rather than the Creator who is forever praised. Amen." (Romans 1:21-25, NIV)

"Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice - this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the power of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - his good, pleasing and perfect will." (Romans 12:1-2, NIV)

Conforming to the world is blinking, and finally looking away from God. But looking away means we can only look to ourselves, and we are deeply depraved. Looking away means we accept the Weeping Angel's touch, and all we could have been in Christ goes away in an instant. So don't blink. Nourish yourself and stay brave.

Caveat

My analogy is not watertight or perfectly consistent, namely because the person from whom we shouldn't look away isn't a psychopathic killer, but rather the holy and loving Creator God. (Although, there is an element of healthy fear I think is appropriate and makes the correlation stronger. The fear of God is another blog post topic, however.) In addition, the wonderful thing about our spiritual blinks is that we can get back to where we belong, by God's incredible mercy and grace. While this is true, we don't know where we could have been had we not looked away, which is where the emphasis of my point lies.

We don't deserve second and third and umpteenth chances when we do stray, but God gives them anyway. My point with the blinking analogy is to say that even little lapses in keeping our eyes on the author and perfecter of our faith is more dangerous and damaging than we think. They are also hard for us to notice, since it's a reflex of being human to strive for independence and self-sufficiency. Fighting those impulses is the struggle we have every second of every day, and something only the Holy Spirit can help us overcome.

Until next time! May your statues remain stone.
Katya