Sunday, December 24, 2006

In which Tim reflects via the light of a Christmas tree...

It's a beautiful tree. Just the right size, lots of peacefully blinking lights and hand crafted ornaments, and a giant star on top. I prefer stars to angels. My dog is sleeping next to me, and my sister's cat underneath my chair. My parents are in the next room filling up the stockings, pretending to be santa claus. Traditions are nice.

At church tonight, I was moved by a part of the Christmas story that had never really struck me before. I think that in thinking of the Christmas story, many of us tend to pull all the elements from the different gospel accounts, and create one big mental picture out of them. Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wisemen, evil kings, etc. It's a beautiful picture, but in doing that we tend to lose some of the poignancy of the elements contained in the individual accounts.

What struck me was from the story in the second chapter of Luke:

8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ[a] the Lord."

Yeah, we all know the story. I've always thought about how cool it was that the birth of Jesus was announced to both the poorest scum of society (shepherds in fields), and the richest of the elite (foreign kings following a star). The funny thing is that Luke's account makes no mention of the star gazing Magi (wisemen). But I think the contrast that we see in this part of Luke is much more extreme than the other one.

In this scene we have humble, poor, probably illiterate shepherds celebrating an event alongside creatures who represent visibly the very glory of the most high. The lowest of society and the highest in the Universe. Wow! How could such a meeting be possible? What event could prompt such a bridging of separate realms? Only the birth of one through whom these two kingdoms could be united. A God-man. The highest of heaven united in the form of flesh and bone with man kind. Jesus Christ.

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The pastor at church talked a lot about Bethlehem, and how it was not much but a cow town. The prophet Micah predicted that out of Bethlehem would come one who would rule over all of Israel, restoring the ancient order, and ultimately "be their peace (shalom)". It got me thinking about all the conflict and strife in Israel today. In recent years, even the church of the Nativity has been a battlefield. How many have died? How many must STILL die? We need shalom.

Come, Lord Jesus. That is my prayer as I celebrate your birth. Return, and bring peace where there is conflict, and healing where there is pain. We long to see you.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

in which Tim apologizes, tells the news, and picks at his wounds.

I have not written for a long time. I think there are probably several reasons for this, and it will require some reflection to get to them. So to be kind to my readers, I have divided this overdue entry into multiple sections. If you're the kind of person that simply requires the concrete information, "Part 1" is for you. For the rest of you, who enjoy journeying through the messy tangle of philosophical musings, iteresting emotions, and elaborate illustrations that is Tim's mind, I have included "Part 2".

Part 1; The News: I am back on American soil. I arrived home about a week and a half ago, after my flight being delayed 36 hours in Dhaka, and then having to wait an extra 14 hours in London. It was no short journey, but all's well that ends well I suppose. Between piling on layers of clothing to escape these un-Godly temperatures, and pretending to do the homework that I should be doing, I spend an awful lot of time being bored. Please feel free to call or visit if you want to hear stories, tell stories, or just hang out.

Part 2; Why I've not written in a while: I am an extreme extrovert, which I am told means that I do much of my processing outside of my head. My preferred mediums are speech, journaling, and occasionally blogging. Having a brain that doesn't often stop, I usually spend an awful lot of my time either talking or journaling. Those who know me well can tell that when I stop talking it usually means that I am avoiding thinking about something. When situations are confusing or frustrating, sometimes avoidance seems like an awfully convenient solution. Just yesterday I realized that I haven't blogged, journaled, or engaged in extremely deep conversation for a long time, and that I needed to figure out why. So I guess this blog is kind of like me picking at a scab to figure out what's going on underneath...

Some of you know that I have something that I like to call "disengagement syndrome". It means I have trouble knowing how to say goodbye to people and places. It probably comes from having moved around quite a bit as a child, and still feeling the pain of lost friends and beloved places that all become just a memory. The solution I came up with (subconciously) to avoid the pain of parting with people or places was to just unplug when my time in a certain situation is coming to an end. I sort of pull into myself, becoming less outgoing and more elusive. This is one of the reasons that I am never at my best during spring finals week.

With the help of some good friends, I learned the nature of my disengagement syndrome at cedar campus during SLT, and I thought I had it beaten. I figured out (on a conceptual level) that if we "trust God", it's ok to say goodbye to people and places, because through the holy spirit we are all connected to each other anyway, and if it's in His will he can easily bring us back together. Simple, right? Not so much. Old habits die hard, and during my last few weeks in Bangladesh I found myself disengaging as much as ever. I kept thinking about coming home, going back to school, what was next, and disconnecting from where I was and what I was doing.

So here I am, at the next thing. And it's not that great. In fact it's pretty disappointing. I don't know if I was expecting a red carpet with a fanfare and a 21 gun salute, but being back home is kind of boring and a little depressing. I looked forward to re-engaging with the people I left behind and processing through the things I've learned. But it turns out that half of people I've talked to, after asking "how was it?" and hearing me reply "er...umm..good?"(as though three months of travel could be summarized in such a short answer) don't actually want to know any more than that. The other half don't even ask how it was. There have been a select few people (fortunately my parents are among them) who express genuine interest and curiosity in what I encountered and how it impacted me.

I realize it's finals time, and pretty much everyone that I know is up to their ears in work. I don't mean to complain about people not being willing to sit down and listen to me talk for hours on end. I know what it's like. Goodness knows how many times I've been on the other side of this situation. I don't bear grudges against anyone here.

But I still just feel lonely. Like I am the only person in the world who has been certain places and seen certain things, and that no one can understand me. Kind of like Frankenstein's monster, I guess. Except he knew what he needed to solve his loneliness. I don't have a clue. Even if all my friends suddenly started calling and wanting to hear all about my trip, I doubt it would help that much. This is probably just normal re-entry stuff that will go away with time. I just need to keep moving, develop a routine, and then life will become navigable again.

I am sorry if I sound selfish and needy. Maybe I am just bored, and need to fill my time up with something productive. Right now I just try not to think, or start thinking and make myself depressed. bah. I need school to start...