Someone had to die, because someone had to pay. My heart is prideful and greedy, proud and vengeful and because of that a price must be paid. The just thing would be for my sin to be exposed, my heart to be made known and my life covered in shame. That's what ought to happen. But it doesn't.
When it's time for that to happen, the Father's heart is filled with love and compassion. So he steps in, sends his son, that when the shame of my heart is exposed everyone thinks it's him, not me. My anger sticks on him, my lust, my arrogance, my ugly envy, my greed for wealth, my "better than", my vengeful spirit. And I stand quietly, a distance back, someone else getting the blame for all I've done and thought and said, but worse yet, for all I am. The ickyness falls on him, and he takes it- because his Father asked him to, because he loves me. He takes it and wears it and is blamed for it and judged for it- the sentence is death.
But it's so unfair. I scream and shout- No!- but my voice is not heard. "It's me!" I am ignored. The execution continues. I am helpless. There is nothing I can do. An innocent man is going to die because of me- because his Father loves me.
It happens. He dies. It's over. There's nothing to do. No one to whom I can appeal. Over. Done. Past. Finished. They killed the wrong one.
My grief is intense- O the injustice of it! I want to fix it, but it's no use fighting. It should have been me. It was my ugliness on the tree, but it wasn't me. I want to cry, to scream, to punch something- I want to yell loud enough that it actually makes a difference. But it's no use. It's all over. I can't change it or undo it or reverse it. It's too late. He's dead.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Lessons from a houseplant
I'm not very good with plants. I still vividly remember my first plant- a small one that my mom got me as a gift after I landed my first teaching job. I had two roommates back then, both of whom had green thumbs. I nearly killed my little plant before one of them took over and made it thrive. I think it may still be in her house to this day, probably taking over an entire room from what I remember of it.
My second attempt came years later in Argentina, when I planted a small rose bush in memory of my Gramma. It produced one beautiful yellow rose before I killed it. So when I moved here I was bound and determine to fill my house with plants. It's the tropics after all, a world full of living green things- surely I could keep a few house plants alive?
I bought three. One got a disease and passed on rather quickly. The other lasted nearly 9 months before it too, took a turn south. The third one was scraggly, but alive. I moved into my new apartment, transplanted some aloe, and waited for the two of them to turn brown. But they didn't. I soon found out why. My new helper/cleaner who comes once a week was tending to them. Soon, she ripped the dead plant out of one of my pots and the next week a new green one appeared there. A few weeks later I came home to find a plant rooting in water and a small cactus. Two weeks after that, the rooted plant was in the soil.
All of this really made me take notice. So I started watering them more. I mean, I had watered them before, but not that much. At least one of my former plants drowned so I'm never really sure how much water to give any of them. And as I have been watering them more, a curious thing has happened. That old original scraggly plant? Not so scraggly anymore. New shoots each of the past 2 weeks! And the one she rooted in water for me? Growing quickly.
So what has this taught me? One, water the plants. But more than that, it has reminded me of Psalm 1, of the tree planted by streams of water, leaves not withering, but prospering in all they do. That tree is a metaphor for the person who delights in the law of the Lord and spends time with the Word- day and night.
Sometimes, I think I am a lot like my original plant- not dead really, but not thriving. I'm getting enough Biblical "water" to survive, but not enough to reproduce, to be fully alive. But I suspect that much like my little plant, if I were to water my soul with the Word of God more often than I probably would sprout and grow and live to my fullest. How often I get distracted, the Bible open on my lap, but nothing really penetrating into my mind. How often I let the busyness of life crowd out that time. But the truth is, nothing is better for me than the living water that only Jesus can provide.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.
O Jesus, help us to plant our lives by streams of water, of your living water. Help us to water our souls freely and abundantly so that we may live all the more for your glory!
My second attempt came years later in Argentina, when I planted a small rose bush in memory of my Gramma. It produced one beautiful yellow rose before I killed it. So when I moved here I was bound and determine to fill my house with plants. It's the tropics after all, a world full of living green things- surely I could keep a few house plants alive?
I bought three. One got a disease and passed on rather quickly. The other lasted nearly 9 months before it too, took a turn south. The third one was scraggly, but alive. I moved into my new apartment, transplanted some aloe, and waited for the two of them to turn brown. But they didn't. I soon found out why. My new helper/cleaner who comes once a week was tending to them. Soon, she ripped the dead plant out of one of my pots and the next week a new green one appeared there. A few weeks later I came home to find a plant rooting in water and a small cactus. Two weeks after that, the rooted plant was in the soil.
All of this really made me take notice. So I started watering them more. I mean, I had watered them before, but not that much. At least one of my former plants drowned so I'm never really sure how much water to give any of them. And as I have been watering them more, a curious thing has happened. That old original scraggly plant? Not so scraggly anymore. New shoots each of the past 2 weeks! And the one she rooted in water for me? Growing quickly.
So what has this taught me? One, water the plants. But more than that, it has reminded me of Psalm 1, of the tree planted by streams of water, leaves not withering, but prospering in all they do. That tree is a metaphor for the person who delights in the law of the Lord and spends time with the Word- day and night.
Sometimes, I think I am a lot like my original plant- not dead really, but not thriving. I'm getting enough Biblical "water" to survive, but not enough to reproduce, to be fully alive. But I suspect that much like my little plant, if I were to water my soul with the Word of God more often than I probably would sprout and grow and live to my fullest. How often I get distracted, the Bible open on my lap, but nothing really penetrating into my mind. How often I let the busyness of life crowd out that time. But the truth is, nothing is better for me than the living water that only Jesus can provide.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.
O Jesus, help us to plant our lives by streams of water, of your living water. Help us to water our souls freely and abundantly so that we may live all the more for your glory!
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Queen Yuna
One aspect of life in Thailand that is a bummer is that there isn't any figure skating on TV, not that I get cable or anything, but that might inspire me to do so. Instead, I follow skating via icenetwork.com and youtube. I'm lucky that most of the performances I want to see are on youtube within a day of the event, though I don't ever get the nail biting thrill of watching and wondering what the result will be.
This weekend was the world championships, which were held in London, Ontario- about a 2 1/2 hour drive from Detroit. At worlds, the 2010 Olympic Champion, Yuna Kim, has returned to big time competition, and boy am I glad. She's the best thing for ladies skating since Michelle Kwan. The US ladies are a bit, well, boring, most of the time- though there is a new skater (Gracie Gold) who excites me a bit in what she can do. Last night Queen Yuna regained her world title and reestablished her dominance (not only did she win, she CRUSHED the competition) setting herself up to repeat as Olympic Champion, a feat no one has accomplished since Katerina Witt in the 1980's. Actually, no lady has even really attempted it since then.
That's part of why you can put Yuna's name in the same sentence as Michelle Kwan- her Olympic victory wasn't a fluke, it wasn't a single great performance that she snuck in there to win. She won because she was the best in the field, by far. Technically, artistically, musically- near perfect. This year she has skated to Les Mis, which only puts her higher in my estimation. I know who I'm rooting for in Sochi next year!
You can watch her amazing winning freeskate here.
This weekend was the world championships, which were held in London, Ontario- about a 2 1/2 hour drive from Detroit. At worlds, the 2010 Olympic Champion, Yuna Kim, has returned to big time competition, and boy am I glad. She's the best thing for ladies skating since Michelle Kwan. The US ladies are a bit, well, boring, most of the time- though there is a new skater (Gracie Gold) who excites me a bit in what she can do. Last night Queen Yuna regained her world title and reestablished her dominance (not only did she win, she CRUSHED the competition) setting herself up to repeat as Olympic Champion, a feat no one has accomplished since Katerina Witt in the 1980's. Actually, no lady has even really attempted it since then.
That's part of why you can put Yuna's name in the same sentence as Michelle Kwan- her Olympic victory wasn't a fluke, it wasn't a single great performance that she snuck in there to win. She won because she was the best in the field, by far. Technically, artistically, musically- near perfect. This year she has skated to Les Mis, which only puts her higher in my estimation. I know who I'm rooting for in Sochi next year!
You can watch her amazing winning freeskate here.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Dissecting Dinner
It started when the doctor told me that I am a bit anemic and need to eat more iron. He suggested leafy greens. I thought about a juicy steak. Except that beef in Thailand leaves a lot to be desired.
Green leafy things are a nice thought, but hard to get around here since I order my veggies online and have them delivered, and the site doesn't carry much green and leafy. At least, no spinach. So I did a little search on foods high in iron and I found two that looked interesting: shrimp and dark chocolate. Deciding that eating dark chocolate for dinner might not be the best choice, I added shrimp to my weekly order from the market. And broccoli.
Except I forgot. I forgot that I live in Thailand. So I guess I wasn't all that surprised that my shrimp came with heads and tails and legs. I could live with that. But they also came with veins. In the US, I remember reading "deveined" on all the shrimp packages, but I didn't think much of it. Now I do.
I don't like blood or anatomy. I don't really even like thinking about my meat as living muscle tissue. So I came home from the gym, figured I'd marinate the shrimp and then take a shower before cooking them. There I stood, a pile of shrimp in front of me and not one, but two little veins needing to be painstakingly ripped out of every individual bite of my dinner. Have you ever done it? It's gross. By the time I finished the sweat was dry, my fingers were prunes, the house smelled like shrimp, I had a crick in my neck, and little bits of vein were embedded under my finger nails. VEIN!
Needless to say, I think I'll aim to eat more shrimp when I'm eating out, and stick with chicken and pork at home. They tasted good in the end, but I don't know if they were worth it.
| A typical Thai cow... doesn't really moooove you to want to eat beef. |
Except I forgot. I forgot that I live in Thailand. So I guess I wasn't all that surprised that my shrimp came with heads and tails and legs. I could live with that. But they also came with veins. In the US, I remember reading "deveined" on all the shrimp packages, but I didn't think much of it. Now I do.
I don't like blood or anatomy. I don't really even like thinking about my meat as living muscle tissue. So I came home from the gym, figured I'd marinate the shrimp and then take a shower before cooking them. There I stood, a pile of shrimp in front of me and not one, but two little veins needing to be painstakingly ripped out of every individual bite of my dinner. Have you ever done it? It's gross. By the time I finished the sweat was dry, my fingers were prunes, the house smelled like shrimp, I had a crick in my neck, and little bits of vein were embedded under my finger nails. VEIN!
Needless to say, I think I'll aim to eat more shrimp when I'm eating out, and stick with chicken and pork at home. They tasted good in the end, but I don't know if they were worth it.
 |
| My dinner- beheaded, detailed, deshelled, and deveined. |
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Missings
I love my life- where I live and what I do- but I also really miss some things. Here are a few of them:
- Good inexpensive cheese. And Kraft Cheddar, that too.
- Spring and fall. Okay, I admit it, I'm looking forward to spring in China.
- Being able to ask what kind of sauce comes on everything instead of automatically saying NO SAUCE.
- Sunday family dinners.
- Watching Benji and Xander and all the other little people grow up.
- My cousins.
- Shopping at Jade.
- The convenience of driving and having a car, especially in the rain.
- Texting with my siblings.
- Really amazing salads at restaurants, the ones with strawberries or walnuts or mandarin oranges or things like that. And real greens.
- A big, fat, juicy, lean steak.
- Swimming in fresh water lakes.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Stepping Outside My Culture Zone
One of the things I am learning a lot about by living in Thailand is what it feels like to be a minority. There are several ways I can wind up in the minority here- linguistically, religiously, racially, or culturally. I don't notice it all the time out in public, but I do still feel conspicuous some times, and the language part can have its stressful moments. It is not often here that I am in the cultural minority since so many of my friends are Americans or other Westerners, so it is easy to live in Thailand and not often experience the joy of observing another culture closely or the stress of being emerged in a set of rules with which I am not familiar.
This weekend in Singapore, I had that opportunity. As Sunday was the end of Chinese New Year, my aunt and uncle were gathering with their family for dinner and they invited me along. Nothing paints a culture for you like attending a holiday with them.
We walked across the street to my uncle's parent's house where his other siblings, nieces, and nephews had already arrived. Much like my family, most people were milling about the living room visiting while a few finished getting the food and tables ready. I smiled when I saw that there were two tables, one being the designated 'kids table', just like we always had (some things, I guess are universal).
Before dinner a small coffee table covered in newspaper was brought into the middle of the room. On it was a platter with piles of different shredded vegetable and raw salmon. Sauce and peanuts were poured on top and everyone crowded around with a pair of chopsticks and then worked together to mix the salad. It was fun, and I soon realized why the platter was surrounded by newspaper.
Then we all sat down for hot pot with heaping piles of pork, beef, and seafood all around. Everyone happily started dropping meat into the broth as family banter bounced around the table. Sat between my aunt and uncle, my plate was never empty. At one point everyone was fighting over a meat that I did not recognize. My aunt took a piece and put half of it on my plate. She said she'd only let me know what it was after I tried it... I did, and it wasn't bad, if a bit gelatinous. I think it was pig skin or something. I tried several other new things that I can't remember, and even ate part of a black egg (I can't remember what they are soaked in), something I had cleverly avoided so far in Bangkok. It wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be, and in fact, I didn't dislike it. Not sure I'd go as far as saying I liked it though.
The meal was delicious and fun, and I ate way too much. My favorites were the pork meatballs and the shrimp. After hot pot I had a bowl of broth and then some Korean ramen-style noodles to finish things off. We followed dinner with a chocolate birthday cake for two of the teenagers, which I somehow made space for. It was a fun evening and my uncle's family was so welcoming. When I got there he had introduced me to everyone, but it wasn't until dinner was nearly over that his sister realized that I was that Clare, the one from Ann Arbor, the little girl.
The foods may not have been turkey and stuffing, but it still felt a lot like sitting down to a big family Thanksgiving dinner, everyone having their favorite bits of the meal. It was so much worth the bit of uncomfortableness that comes from trying to pick up on the correct cultural way to do things and knowing the whole time that you're not quite getting it. But at least my chopsticks skills are slowly coming along.
This weekend in Singapore, I had that opportunity. As Sunday was the end of Chinese New Year, my aunt and uncle were gathering with their family for dinner and they invited me along. Nothing paints a culture for you like attending a holiday with them.
We walked across the street to my uncle's parent's house where his other siblings, nieces, and nephews had already arrived. Much like my family, most people were milling about the living room visiting while a few finished getting the food and tables ready. I smiled when I saw that there were two tables, one being the designated 'kids table', just like we always had (some things, I guess are universal).
Before dinner a small coffee table covered in newspaper was brought into the middle of the room. On it was a platter with piles of different shredded vegetable and raw salmon. Sauce and peanuts were poured on top and everyone crowded around with a pair of chopsticks and then worked together to mix the salad. It was fun, and I soon realized why the platter was surrounded by newspaper.
Then we all sat down for hot pot with heaping piles of pork, beef, and seafood all around. Everyone happily started dropping meat into the broth as family banter bounced around the table. Sat between my aunt and uncle, my plate was never empty. At one point everyone was fighting over a meat that I did not recognize. My aunt took a piece and put half of it on my plate. She said she'd only let me know what it was after I tried it... I did, and it wasn't bad, if a bit gelatinous. I think it was pig skin or something. I tried several other new things that I can't remember, and even ate part of a black egg (I can't remember what they are soaked in), something I had cleverly avoided so far in Bangkok. It wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be, and in fact, I didn't dislike it. Not sure I'd go as far as saying I liked it though.
The meal was delicious and fun, and I ate way too much. My favorites were the pork meatballs and the shrimp. After hot pot I had a bowl of broth and then some Korean ramen-style noodles to finish things off. We followed dinner with a chocolate birthday cake for two of the teenagers, which I somehow made space for. It was a fun evening and my uncle's family was so welcoming. When I got there he had introduced me to everyone, but it wasn't until dinner was nearly over that his sister realized that I was that Clare, the one from Ann Arbor, the little girl.
The foods may not have been turkey and stuffing, but it still felt a lot like sitting down to a big family Thanksgiving dinner, everyone having their favorite bits of the meal. It was so much worth the bit of uncomfortableness that comes from trying to pick up on the correct cultural way to do things and knowing the whole time that you're not quite getting it. But at least my chopsticks skills are slowly coming along.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)