Whoa. This got kind of long... sorrykarne_asadaMarch 10 2005, 13:20:13 UTC
*Insert record scratch here*
Sarah,
Way to ask the hard questions. It's nice to see you posting again :) Though I'm not sure this will fully answer your quandry, here are a few C.S. Lewis quotes from Mere Christianity that are at least somewhat related:
"That is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back: in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in and out of the wind."
"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of- throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage; but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself. The command 'Be ye perfect' is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible. He is going to make us into creatures that can obey that command. He said (in the Bible) that we were 'gods' and He is going to make good His words. If we let Him- for we can prevent Him, if we choose- He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful, but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said."
So yeah. Reading that last quote (apparently borrowed from George MacDonald) I get this image in my head of God as this kitschy Jewish mom from Long Island who refuses to listen when I try to explain that I just want a small wedding with a few close friends. "Oy vey, Bubee. I would just kavel if you would let me make a fuss ova ya for once. I'm gettin all ferklempt just thinkin about it." I like the idea that God's expectations are so much grander than mine, but it's impossible to meet them without His help. I'm not really sure what that looks like practically. Holiness seems like such an arduous task, but He helps break it down into smaller steps that seem doable. I can't build a house all by myself, but I can hammer a nail or paint a wall or saw a piece of wood. Maybe it's just a matter of offering to Him what you have to give.
Sarah,
Way to ask the hard questions. It's nice to see you posting again :) Though I'm not sure this will fully answer your quandry, here are a few C.S. Lewis quotes from Mere Christianity that are at least somewhat related:
"That is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back: in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in and out of the wind."
"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of- throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage; but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself. The command 'Be ye perfect' is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible. He is going to make us into creatures that can obey that command. He said (in the Bible) that we were 'gods' and He is going to make good His words. If we let Him- for we can prevent Him, if we choose- He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful, but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said."
So yeah. Reading that last quote (apparently borrowed from George MacDonald) I get this image in my head of God as this kitschy Jewish mom from Long Island who refuses to listen when I try to explain that I just want a small wedding with a few close friends. "Oy vey, Bubee. I would just kavel if you would let me make a fuss ova ya for once. I'm gettin all ferklempt just thinkin about it." I like the idea that God's expectations are so much grander than mine, but it's impossible to meet them without His help. I'm not really sure what that looks like practically. Holiness seems like such an arduous task, but He helps break it down into smaller steps that seem doable. I can't build a house all by myself, but I can hammer a nail or paint a wall or saw a piece of wood. Maybe it's just a matter of offering to Him what you have to give.
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