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Category Archives: Christianity
Truth Tripline
I’m one of those writers who doesn’t really know what she wants to say until she says it. I don’t do a lot of planning before I start fiction projects. I might have a vague idea of the ending, but I don’t know the steps it will take to get to that point, or even if that ending will be what I eventually land on.
Apparently, Jo Rowling planned Harry Potter for seven years before she started writing it. It definitely worked for her.
For me, I make friends with a few characters and then I toss them into a situation together to see what they’ll do.
Listen, I know it’s kind of a trendy thing for authors to say that they are surprised by what their characters do, but I’ll be honest with you: it’s the truth. I am sometimes shocked at what happens when I sit down at the laptop to write. I won’t let my characters have the final say; I get that, as the author … but they usually know what they’re doing, and I’m usually humble enough to listen.
When I sat down to write my current work-in-progress, all I knew was that it featured three teenagers and one of them wasn’t sure if reality was really reality. The first thing that happened when I started writing was that this blind, elderly man named Gordon suddenly started speaking. I had no idea where he came from, had not planned or prepared for him … but there he was. And he ended up being an important character in the story.
C.S. Lewis had the image of a faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy wood in his head. He wrote, “At first I had very little idea how the story would go. Then suddenly Aslan came bounding into it. I think I had been having a good many dreams about lions about that time. Apart from that I don’t know where the Lion came from or why he came. But once he was there he pulled the whole story together, and soon He pulled the six other Narnian stories in after him.”
Likewise, Lewis said that the stories weren’t originally intended to be Christian allegory. “At first there wasn’t even anything Christian about them; that element pushed itself in of its own accord.”
This happens to me while I write. I won’t know what a character should do or say … and then I just write it. My fingers just fly across the keyboard, and I, Jackie, at home on my couch, am marveling at this truth that I tripped over.
Where do these things come from?
I think I know.
Alice in Wonderland 2 by *Ashenebal on deviantART
Great Decisions of My Life
1. January 1996, I gave my life to Jesus Christ. I was fourteen years old, and my heart was singing as I leaned back into the waters of baptism.
2. August 2000, I began my education at Northwestern College in St. Paul, Minnesota. This school molded me as a student of words and the Word and introduced me to some amazing, lifelong friends. I had no idea that after graduation, I would end up working on the campus, and now I have spent almost 13 years at this amazing institution!
3. August 2001, I chose to be a volunteer camp counselor at Pine Haven Christian Assembly, the camp I grew up attending as a camper. I was one person going into this week and another coming out of it; it sparked a desire in me to work with youth. I met some of my very best friends at this camp, most of them this first week.
4. Summer 2003, I decided to apply for a position in the Northwestern admissions office. A decade later, I still revel in that great decision every morning when I wake up excited to go to work.
5. August 2005, I started sponsoring a child through Compassion International, igniting a strong advocacy in me for helping release children from poverty. Antonio June, Jona, and Bea bless my life.
6. March 2009, I began Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) therapy to treat my OCD.
Hoping to make more great decisions … or be led to them … or to stumble into them! What are the best decisions of your life?
God’s Sovereignty, OCD, the Cross, and His Purposes
Just wanted to sort out some thoughts and spark conversation on my blog today.
A little while ago, I asked the question on my blog Did God give me OCD? and came to conclusion that yes, he did, to draw me to himself and so that I could use it to glorify him and help others. A blog reader challenged me on that conclusion, and I thought her questions were valid. She wrote:
Let me challenge this: Is God good or bad? Does God do bad things? I do not believe that God gives people sickness, disorders, etc. It is contrary to God’s character to do those things. I DO believe that God will use bad circumstances/disease/etc in order to bring Him glory and all the things you said. BUT the whole reason that Jesus died for us is to enter into relationship with the Father. There had to be a sacrifice to tear the veil and stand in the gap between the God of the Old Testament and the New Covenant. When we look at the OT, we have to look at it through the lens of the Cross…would the Cross change how a situation would look? Judgement in the New Testament is always correctional because final judgement doesn’t happen on this earth anymore (it did in the OT). When we look at sickness, we see that Jesus performed miracles to show God’s love. He never caused anyone sickness. I do not believe that God gave you OCD, but I 100% agree that God is good and uses your OCD to drive you to Him, so that you could glorify Him with it, and to help others who are suffering.
This comment has got me thinking deeply about this. Right now, it’s still a pretty jarbled (that’s a mix of jumbled and garbled) blend of the doctrine of suffering (suffering in itself is not virtuous, but it does seem purposeful [Romans 8:28-29]), God’s sovereignty (is God in control of everything? Even disease/disorder? Sin and evil aren’t of his making, but if he gave humans the choice to opt for them, doesn’t that mean he is still master over it all?), and hindsight (now that OCD is not master of me, it’s easier to see the larger picture of OCD as a tool God used in my life).
I think that my position (for now) still stands with the belief that God did give me OCD for his glory and purposes.
To answer the commenter’s questions, I respond with my own questions: from one perspective, the CROSS was a “bad thing.” In the moment, who would have guessed it would come to be known as GOOD Friday? And we know it was planned. Redemption through the cross was the plan for forever. “Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the LORD shall prosper in his hand” (Isaiah 53:10). Think of this from a human perspective. If we watched a father allow his son to be tortured, we would probably say that dad was doing a “bad thing.”
But, of course, we don’t see the cross from that angle anymore. We know what happened on Sunday morning after Christ’s death. And we now know that the cross is the most beautiful thing, the event that allows us freedom and life. We look on the “bad thing” as a glorious thing.
So, could it be that way with OCD? (I don’t think I’m ready to call it a “glorious thing” yet!) But if suffering is predetermined (“Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good” [1 Peter 4:19]), who predetermined it? It’s hard for me to separate God from control over all things (I’m still sorting through some of this, including the fall of man).
What do you think? Let’s dialogue.
Asking the Tough Questions
The Wednesday before Easter, my dear friend Ashley and I went to a performance of “Kingdom Undone,” which was showing at the Southern Theater in Minneapolis. This was a story of days leading up to Christ’s death, but the emphasis … was on Judas Iscariot.
The betrayer. The traitor. But in this play, a lover of Christ who misunderstood just what the coming of Christ’s kingdom would truly look like. A zealous believer who thought he was doing what was right, even what was needed of him.
It was fascinating. Afterward, Ashley and I could not quit talking about Judas and his role in Christ’s death, both of us eager to return to Scripture to measure our thoughts against Truth.
I want Judas to be redeemed. So badly. Mostly because I think that would make for the best story.
That alarmed me for a little bit, made me really uncomfortable. Was I imagining that I could make an “improvement” on the gospel story (if Judas was not under grace)? The gospel is my FAVORITE story. It’s like how I’d feel if someone wanted to change the ending to The Last Battle or something. (Potentially– I still have not totally landed on what I think was Judas’ fate. Although scripture does say, “Satan entered into him.” But we also do know that he regretted his choices– deeply.)
Anyway, it’s good for this obsessive-compulsive to sit with troublesome uncertainty. Once upon a time, these kinds of questions would have collapsed me, but now I’ve learned to sit with them.
…
Another of my friends emailed me this week with an unrelated faith crisis as she struggles to reconcile the (vengeful, confusing, sometimes bloodthirsty) God of the Old Testament with the (merciful, loving, gracious) Christ of the New Testament. They are, after all, one and the same. But she loves Jesus, she told me, and is pissed at the OT God and trying to struggle her way through the dissonance.
I wonder the same thing sometimes too. The Old Testament and New seem so vastly different. But I know that the Law was a tutor to lead us to Christ, and I know that the God of the Old Testament orchestrated the whole beautiful gospel from before time began, so they do flow together. I know that God welcomed Gentiles like me in order to make Israel jealous, and I am forever grateful to be a wild shoot grafted into the natural tree.
This post doesn’t have a lot of answers, and I think that’s okay. I’m learning to ask the tough questions and to sit without an answer, wait in that uncomfortable silence because God is still holy there.
RESURRECTION!!!
I. LOVE. EASTER.
Today I celebrate the event that makes everything– everything!— different for me! Jesus Christ, who died, is ALIVE!
My purpose comes from the resurrection. The resurrection puts weights in my shoes, tethers me from drifting into nothingness. The resurrection injects meaning into my daily life like a holy syringe.
On Easter morning, I wake with this feeling of power and pride– pride in my Savior and joy in knowing that the Spirit that raised Christ from the dead is living in me! Makes me want to start throwing air punches along to the Rocky theme song!
Or how about this song instead? This is one of my favorite songs about Easter, especially for the line, “The mouth of the tomb shouted, ‘Glory! The groom is alive!'” So. Good.
Enjoy, and may you truly REVEL in the delight of the resurrection today and every day.
Just Around the Corner
“Neely, have you ever been to a tenebrae service?”
“Like for Good Friday, you mean? Yeah, we have one at my church most years. We had one a couple months ago.”
“What was your service like?”
I leaned my head against the back of the couch, thinking. “Um … there were seven votives lit on the stage. Different people went up to the microphone; each one read one of the seven last things Christ said on the cross and then extinguished one of the candles. So, after all seven people had read, we were in the dark in the sanctuary.” I could picture Ellen, on my left, growing uncomfortable as the light had diminished. On my right had sat Sophie, her big brown eyes taking in the scene.
“Tenebrae is Latin for ‘shadows’ or ‘darkness,’” said Ruth. “Can you imagine the darkness of that original Good Friday?” she asked. “Think about it. Imagine being a follower of Christ and standing there beneath the cross on the very day he died. You had believed all His promises, but now he is nailed to a tree, dead. I probably would have cried until I went into shock. I’d be staring at that limp body thinking, should I go home? Should I stay? What is the use of anything now? How will I readjust to life without purpose?”
“As if you’d lived a day too long, and now there was nothing for you,” I said, identifying as I knew Ruth wanted but not sure of her point.
“Exactly,” said Ruth. “I bet those early Christians—in the interim darkness between the cross and the resurrection—could understand your misery.”
I waited, still not grasping where …
“On Sunday morning, Christ rose from the dead and conquered death!” she said. “Victory was just around the corner.”
a poem for Good Friday
Cross, Holy Week
by Luci Shaw
On my chest this Friday afternoon,
the elegant small signature
of violent death
swings on my neck as I walk,
gold tapping my deep heart,
telling me I was there.
(I did not mean to do it; I did
not know.) I slump under
the weight of it; my pulse
echoes the beat of hammers.
the agony of anticipation
I’m one of those people who can’t tackle giant rollercoasters because of the long, slow, clicking rise to the top. Not the way down! I could probably handle the drop, but I cannot deal with that painful rise, that horrible anticipation.
Tonight I’m thinking about Gethsemane, about the weight of anticipation on Christ’s shoulders as he looks forward and sees the cat o’ nine tails, the cross, the nails, and so much blood. To know fully what is only hours away … anguish.
But he knew he was destined for the cross long before the garden that night … his whole life … and even before his earthly birth … for all of eternity.
That, my friends, is a long time to ride the rollercoaster up.
I am so proud of my savior.
my darkest, lowest days
Tonight, I have been thinking about that deep, dark pit and the moments of my life when I was at the very bottom, nowhere lower to go and my head too heavy to look up. I have been thinking about the things and places that remind me of those times.
You might guess that it was those months after college graduation, when I would wander from the laundry room to look over the balcony to the pool area two floors below and think about what would happen if I let myself fall.
Or maybe that it would be one of those evenings when I was wild-eyed and manic, scream-weeping in the bathroom while my roommate sat outside the door and prayed.
But when I think of myself at my lowest, I always picture myself in the Caribou Coffee in Long Lake, Minnesota. I’d arrived to town too early to visit Orono High School, and so I stopped into Caribou off of Highway 12 (which has since been re-routed), ordered hot cocoa, and sat alone at a table. In my car I had been listening to “Spirit” by the band Switchfoot, letting the chorus hammer into me that all I wanted was Jesus … exactly whom I believed I could not have.
Interestingly, the emotion that I seemed to feel the most was this odd, lonely marvel. Don’t get me wrong– it was not good, as marvel usually is. It was this dark, lost, inconceivable wonder that I could be so damned and that there was nothing I could do about it. I sipped at my cocoa, thinking how there was no joy left available to me, no rescue coming, no prayer I could whisper to make things okay again. A marvel and a sort of understanding washing over me that this was my reality and there was no way out.
For years, I could not listen to that song (which truly is a lovely one!) without feeling a stale depression steal over me. To this day, when I drive by that Caribou, I think to that dark day. Nothing impressive or strange or particularly triggering had occurred, but it is my lowest, loneliest moment of my life.
I could not have pulled myself out of that pit. I didn’t even have the strength to lift my eyes.
(Oh gosh, I’m going to start being known as That Girl Who Cries in Barnes & Noble, LOL!)
Jesus Christ rescued me. He led me to the right medication and the right therapy and carried me out of the pit himself.
In the past couple of weeks, I have gotten several emails from fellow obsessive-compulsives who are in that same pit. I write this post to say that there is hope– and it’s not in ourselves.
JACKIE LEA SOMMERS 