Theology and Mothers

I'm going to do the rewrite - saving the original copy first, as many of you suggested. Thanks for all your encouragement and kind thoughts!

I can't believe it's almost the weekend again. That's one nice thing about traveling on Monday and having Carl home on Tuesday: Wednesday feels like Monday, and by the time you think you're in the middle of the week, it's done. Nice.

It was a tiring weekend, especially because we stayed almost an entire day extra (we had planned on leaving first thing Monday morning, and instead we left after dinner on Monday) (and then drove straight home, no stops, in the rain. Less than fun.), but it was good. It was great to see Gram:

And get a chance to play in her yard:

It was also good to see friends, both the ones we expected to see, and the ones we didn't. The reason we stayed that extra day was to get a chance to sit in on the first two sessions of the Bunyan Conference and see people we hadn't seen for over a year. As it turned out, we also saw people we hadn't seen for a much longer time: Steve and Anne, who are old friends of my family and we haven't seen since our wedding; Bob and Margie, whom I have known my entire life; and Marcellus, who is pastor of one of the churches in St. Lucia where I went on my missions trips nine and ten years ago, and whom I haven't seen since. And while Every Single Person who saw us said the Exact Same Thing: "It's so good to see you are your parents coming????" I was able to not get an inferiority complex over it.

What I didn't like about the Monday at the Conference was when I had to go out to the foyer with Grace shortly after the first session started, and from there into the nursery. Joy sat with Carl through the entire first session (Jo, he said he thinks she was fascinated by your dad's preaching style), but for the second I took her into the nursery with Grace and me so she could run around and work out some energy before the long car ride home.

I realize that the Bunyan Conference is a theological conference, started first for pastors and only later expanded to welcome anyone and everyone. So I understand that they aren't going to arrange nursery workers for small children (or even set up some speakers so that mothers who have to take their children into nursery can at least listen in to the message). But as I sat there, alone, I got thinking that it is all wrong. Mothers of young children ought to be given a place where they can listen, too. We of all people need to hear rich teaching and deep theology. Our lives are spent in constant repetition of "What does a dog say?" and potty-training and teeth and saying "no" and ...

Man, we need refreshment more than almost anyone else. They - we - ought to be made more than welcome at a theological conference. Organizers ought to go out of their way to make it so that mothers have a chance to listen and learn and be renewed. Because as wonderful as it was to see everybody, I still couldn't help feeling a little resentful and marginalized as I had to sequester myself away in the nursery, just me and the girls, like it is Every Day, while others got to hear the Word of God expounded on and be blessed.

Admittedly, I'm prejudiced. I am a mother of young children, so naturally I think the world ought to revolve around us. I still think, though, even looking at it objectively, that the world, and especially the church, doesn't do enough to serve this rather large group of individuals who are hungering and thirsting for both fellowship and teaching.

What do you think?

Black and White Wednesday: Fairy Girl

I was somewhat stumped today in thinking about B&W Wed. Then I saw Lisa's post, and I remembered that a tutu had been in the bag of clothes for Gracie my friend just dropped off, and voila! A photo session was born.

Joy has a fairy bunny the ladies at our former church gave her at my baby shower for Gracie. We keep the bunny away from Gracie, but Bunny's wand is fair game. She loves to gnaw on it when she's teething, and it definitely completed this outfit.

Pajamas, tutu, headband with bow, and wand. What more does a little girl need to be happy?

Dilemma, Writing-Wise

I'm home.

And I have many thoughts from our long weekend, but something that came in the mail today has raised a more pressing issue.

The agent I sent my MS to returned it with a note stating that it needs to be third-person, and if I change that I can resubmit it. I knew some romance publishers only accepted third-person MSS, but I have never heard that it is standard practice. Is it? Can anyone out there tell me? I don't want to go about trying other agents if nobody will take a first-person MS.

Also, since she suggested I resubmit if I change it to third-person, that's promising, right? I mean, if she wasn't interested at all she wouldn't have bothered to make that suggestion?

The problem is that I don't know if I can change it to third-person and still keep the intense personal perspective I have with first-person. I also don't want to butcher my MS just to please agents/publishers. On the other hand, if the only way to get it published is to make this change ... will it make me a sell-out to change it, or just sensible?

My first thought it to try to make the change. The thought of getting this story published is so exciting that I am willing to make the attempt. I'm just not entirely sure, especially if this "third-person only" policy is limited to this agent, who may or may not take the MS even if I change it, and then may or may not find a publisher for it if she does accept it. So I need advice. Other writing friends? What do you think?

ETA: I did a bit of searching online and found that while it isn't impossible to have a first-person romance novel published, it is very rare and very difficult. So I am leaning even more heavily toward attempting the change and sending it back to this agent. But I am still interested in other people's opinions, so please feel more than free to leave a comment!

God's Time

I have been trying not to post these days unless I actually have something of worth to say. Unfortunately, that means some days go by without an update, because the brain, it's mush. Too many nights awake with baby, too much toddler running me ragged during the day.


We will be gone this weekend: we're leaving tomorrow for PA, and won't get back until sometime on Monday. Tomorrow we'll be seeing Jo for the first time in over a year (and possibly Steve, depending on what time we get there); then we'll get to my grandmother's to spend the next couple of nights. Sunday we have a bridal shower (our reason for traveling at all—Joy is flower girl, I'm matron of honor, so we kind of need to be at the shower); then we come home on Monday. Quick, probably going to stress the girls out terribly, but oh well, at least we get to see people we love. Plus, April in PA is beautiful.


It sometimes boggles my mind to think it's been about a year and a half since we moved from PA. I look around and realize this is my second spring here, I survived my second winter ... Gracie was born here, and her first birthday is coming up in exactly one month. Crazy!


Then the other part of me says "Great! We've been here long enough, time to move on. How 'bout Chicago?"


I want to be settled. I want to start putting down roots. It's hard to feel like this is home when I know that we'll be packing up and leaving in a few years. Granted, Chicago is most likely not going to be our final stop, but we will be there long enough to buy a house, at the very least. One with a yard. There are very few things I'm insistent on, but I've told Carl I have two imperatives when it comes to buying a house: it must have a yard for the girls to play, and a kitchen where I can cook. This house has the kitchen, but no yard, and it's killing me. Joy runs around and around the dining room table, and tries to skip freely across the road when we're walking, and both girls spend much of their day with their noses pressed to the window in the porch door, watching everything outside ... they need space outside to play.


In other words, I'm struggling with contentment lately. God has placed us here for a reason, that I know, and he will move us in his good time ... but I kind of want that time to be now.


Not to mention that my parents are tentatively planning to pack up and move to Chicago with us when we go, and oh my, I am so ready to have my parents next door instead of four hours away. When Mom was here early this week, I seriously considered letting the air out of her tires to keep her around longer.


God's time. Not mine. His plan. Not mine.


"Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:11-13)


I am not in need (well, except for needing a good church family—Carl and I are both becoming starved for fellowship and encouragement). I am just in want. The Bible says something about that, too:


"You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions." (James 4:2-3)


Maybe, instead of asking the Lord to move me, to give me the home and the circumstances I want, I should be asking him to give me a contented spirit right here, where I am. Maybe there are some wonderful things waiting for me right around the corner that I might just miss if I am too busy looking ahead, waiting for tomorrow. Maybe ... just maybe ... God is using this time of drought to teach me something.


My girls will not wither away to nothing if they go without a yard for a couple more years. I won't perish if I live apart from my parents for a bit longer. If my roots are in Christ, I should be able to survive without roots on the earth.


It will work out. I just need to trust.

(Hey look, I did find something meaningful to say after all!)

Black and White Wednesday: Strawberries and Eleven Months

I thought I was going to have to skip B&W Wednesday again this week, until I uploaded the pictures from this previous week onto my computer and found some that worked. Yay!

Almost as soon as the snow melts, I start checking prices of strawberries in the grocery store. Nothing says "summer" to me as much as fresh strawberries for breakfast. They're usually still pretty expensive this time of year, but we managed to get some at a decent price, and oh, they've been heavenly. There's a farm nearby that offers pick-your-own (actually several), and I hope that even with all the busyness we have going on this summer we will have a chance to take the girls and pick some. Joy loved going apple-picking last fall, and I suspect she'll love berry picking even more!

She is my "strawberry girl." I let her have some berries the first day we got them, and now she asks for them every morning. Child after her mamma's heart!

This isn't the greatest of pictures, but it's special to me. The notebook in the middle is for Gracie, the one in the forefront of the picture is Joy's. I write letters to the girls in their notebooks, not all the time, but when I get the chance, and I'm going to give them their books when they go out into the world on their own so they can look back over the years and see my heart for them from the beginning. The same day I had the berries, I was able to pull out their books and write to them for the first time in a few months, and it felt so wonderful that I had to take a picture ... just sitting on the porch, in the sunshine, writing love notes to my girls.

I took this picture this morning ... wrapped one of my scarves around Gracie for fun and snapped some shots. She'll be eleven months on Friday, can you believe it? She's such a little rascal; I did some touch-ups, but if you look closely at her eye you can see traces of the black eye she gave herself this past Saturday. She's into everything these days, and mimics any sound she hears, whether it be older sister fussing or Papa laughing. She can say "baba" (for "papa") and "mamam" (for mamma") when she wants something, but if you ask her to say one of those she just grins and very deliberately says "dadadadada." See? Rascal!

We're still waiting on her top teeth. She had been sleeping better at night, but I think the teeth started moving again because the last two nights she's been waking up and staying awake for two to three hours in the middle of the night. I am exhausted. Again. She clings desperately to me most of the day, which makes it next to impossible to get anything done, and it's hard not to get frustrated when she's clinging and Joy is fussing and I feel like we've been here for ten years already ...

But look at those faces, her's and Joy's. How can I stay frustrated with where God has placed us? It may feel like it will last forever, but it won't; it will pass, and I will be able to sleep again, and someday I'll read over those letter to the girls and marvel at how long ago it all was.

For today, I'm getting more coffee.

Living Christ-ward

“It’s these children you gave me, God! I didn’t ask to be a mother.”

I had to laugh ruefully even as I thought the words. Oh, how like Father Adam I still am! No, my impatience, my frustration, my irritation and short temper … no, those cannot possibly be my fault. It’s the fault of those around me—the children, wearing me so thin. My husband, for giving me said children and then happily trotting off to work every day, leaving me alone with them.* Ultimately, God, for giving me this life. My sin can’t possibly be my problem.

“Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God,” for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.” (James 1:13-15)

Oh. Oops. 

“The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me the fruit and I ate.”

Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I’ve come very far in my walk with the Lord. Still falling into old sinful habits, still living as though I have no choice but to sin. I forget, often, that I am no longer a slave to my old nature, that Adam-nature. If I am in Christ (and by his grace, I am), then I have his nature. I am no longer free to sin. I must follow my Shepherd’s voice.

“ … How can we who died to sin still live in it? … But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness …But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6, various)

I am no longer a slave to sin; I am a slave to righteousness. I cannot fall back on excuses—not only can I not blame others for my sin, I can’t even blame it on my old nature. When I act as Adam, I can’t shrug it off and say “See, human nature!” I don’t have a human nature anymore; I have a spiritual nature. If I claim Christ, I need to act like Christ.

How? How can I shake off old habits, the instinct of my dead self, and live like the new person I am? How can I be a reflection of my Lord who brought me out of the pit?

When I was a teenager, I wrote out these following verses and taped them to the wall of my little office space at work to memorize. Unfortunately, when I left that job I left the verses, and let them slip from my active memory, too, only keeping a vague recollection. They are good verses; I ought to keep them in mind every day, at every moment:

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1-2)

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” (Colossians 3:1-2) 

(Actually, all of Colossians 3 is helpful in this area, also Colossians 2:6-7.)

If my mind is fixed on Christ, if I am thinking of him and reading his Word, the revelation of his character to his people, if I am speaking to him throughout the day, if I am seeking his face above all else … how can I help but become more like him?

If I am thinking of myself and wrapped up in my own problems and matters, I become more like me. I don’t want to be more like me. Rather, I do, but I want to be the me I was originally intended to be, Louise-Uncorrupted-By-Sin, Louise-In-Christ. Not Louise-In-Sin, not Old-Dead-Louise. Living-Louise. Free-Louise.

And so I shake my head at my wayward thoughts, and wrestle them back into submission, and dive back into Christ. It’s a long, slow journey, and one that will never be completed on this earth, but it’s worth the climb.

He is worth the climb.

*Carl doesn’t actually happily trot off to work. He would much prefer to spend more time here at home, but, well, we must live. That’s just my resentful self talking.

Directed Toward God

I find, often, that I get so wrapped up in recording that for which I am thankful, I almost forget to whom these thanks are due. I write them down in my little blue-covered notebook, anything that brings a smile to my face or a quiet thrill to my heart, and think that that has covered it. Yet, have I really directed those words to my Master? Or do I drop them on the page and then forget them, leave them there instead of raising them heavenward?

I have been trying lately to be more focused, more deliberate. As I watch my nearly eleven-month old push her way past every obstacle to reach her goal (usually something she shouldn’t have), and my two-and-a-half year old insist on continuing to walk herself even after tripping and skinning both knees (with tears rolling down her cheeks, squirming out of my arms, saying “Walk, please”), I think that perhaps I can learn something from their childhood determination.

And so as I write down the thanks, I say them, also, in my mind, determined to keep a heavenly mindset, regardless of distractions. Father, thank you for … 

And I find that these words are no longer “just” words on a piece of paper; they have become offerings to a King.

#231 Little girl discovering connection between her body and her shadow

#232 Protection of an Omniscient, loving heavenly Father to the smallest of his children

#233 Better sleep

#234 Quiet conversations and prayer

#235 Safe flights for Mom

#236 Reminder of consistency needed in parenting, small signs of encouragement

#237 Time to quilt, an act of love for a friend

#238 Nearly eleven months not-pregnant

#239 Rainy weekends and sunny weeks

#240 Loose-leaf tea and history book, arriving in the mail sometime this week.

The Sound of the Sea, Completed

I had a great post written about my final Meg Blythe story, and how nostalgic it made me to finish it, and how maybe someday Sullivan will release the copyright on LMM's works so I could look into getting Meg's stories published (like all the Jane Austen unofficial sequels out there) ... then blogspot ate it. Gr.

Anyway, here's the link. 

The Sound of the Sea

Happy reading.

Thursday Mish-Mash

Once again, it's Thursday, the day of dead blogs. I don't really have much to write, myself. Gracie's tooth is on the move again, making her sleep more broken. Joy proved how determined she is, when yesterday she fell down during our evening walk, skinned both knees, and then insisted on walking the rest of the way home, even though she was tired and in pain. Mom was here yesterday, and is heading out to California today ... she is presenting a paper at the annual regional meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society. How proud are we of her?

Other news ... I've hit a bit of a block in my writing. I know where I'm going, I'm just not sure of the best way to get there. And I'm tired (see above, regarding Gracie), and so don't always have the best brain for writing. However, I do have a great plan for writing: as soon as I'm done this draft of this current project (working title "The Eldest Daughter"), I will work on completing the first draft of my romance sequel (working title "Frozen Hope"). Then I will go back and edit "The Eldest Daughter." Then I will go back and edit "Frozen Hope." Then I will work on finding publishers/agents for both. Somewhere in the midst of all this I will finish "Her Own Manner of Devotion," my Mansfield Park fanfiction. I would like to write a story around Leigh Ashton, an original character from my most recent LM Montgomery fic ... but we'll see. I might have too much on my plate already.

I've been watching episodes of "Babylon 5" on hulu while working on Jo's quilt. It's pretty good—Star Trek, except not. Some of the episodes have definitely made me think, while others are simply entertaining. Hulu only has the first two seasons, so once I get through those I am not going to be happy. I wonder if my library has any?

It is supposed to start raining tomorrow and rain until Tuesday. I am not happy about this. I've been getting out and walking with the girls every day this week, and I'm not sure what to do about Joy's excessive energy otherwise. Any suggestions for how to help a housebound toddler work out her energy?

I have just remembered that I have tea steeping, and it has probably now oversteeped .... whoops. All done now!

God's Music

"Listen music?"

It is a question I hear several times a day, only ceasing when the music is actually on. I smile and shake my head.

"Not right now, sweetie. We're going to listen to the Bible."

"Listen Bible chapter," she says in satisfaction, recognizing the routine.

As I spoon applesauce into the baby's gaping mouth, we hear the words of Paul to the Romans, read aloud on the computer, dropping into our ears and hearts as surely as the food drops into Gracie's mouth. The chapter ends. Joy looks at me expectantly.

"'Nother chapter?"

I exchange fruit for cereal and nod. "That's right, another chapter."

It has quickly become our daily habit. Two chapters of the Bible while Mamma feeds Gracie, one of the only times both girls are quiet ... Gracie because she's eating, Joy because she likes the narrator's voice. I miss the occasional word as I run water to mix the cereal or Gracie squawks because I'm taking too long, but I always pick up the gist of it.

It's not the same as really studying the Word, delving into it with commentary and notebook and pen. But in this season, with littles clinging to me and needing massive amounts of attention, with housework that clamors the instant I have a free moment, with stories that insist on being told in the evenings after the little have gone to bed, this is working for me. Since starting this, we have made it through John's gospel (my favorite), Hebrews, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Ephesians, and now Romans. 1 and 2 Peter are next on the list. My hope is to listen through the entire New Testament, and then start again. And again. And again. The more I listen, the better it lodges in my mind. And as the girls grow up, if they hear two chapters every morning at breakfast, hopefully it will lodge in their minds too, and work in their hearts as only the Word can.

We finish the second chapter and I wipe Gracie's face clean. Joy looks at me with a grin.

"Now listen music."

Yes child, now music. But first, always first, comes the music of the inspired words of the Bible. They weave together a far greater melody than anything else ever could, and only they can make our hearts sing.

Thoughts on Thinking

I deliberately postponed writing a new blog post until today, because I was so enjoying the comments on Carl's post (and no, I'm not jealous that he got more comments than most of my posts get. Well, only a little jealous). However, if I let too many days go by without posting I start feeling lonely. With my only outings being to the library and grocery store these days, my blog is my connection to the outside world, my reminder that hey, there really is life beyond being Mamma! (Even when, as now, I'm typing with a little on my lap.)

I have been having some interesting conversations lately (with Carl and Mom and Dad), all on theology and philosophy and people (not gossiping about individuals, just talking about people as in the human race. Just to clarify). I've been reminded of the fun email discussions my friend Bekah and I used to get into when we were both in college, and some of the crazy late-night conversations that would go on in our college Bible Study, and I kind of miss those days. Those days when my mind was not dulled by persistent lack of sleep, and I didn't have to have one ear listening for a toddler needing help or trying to get away with going potty in her underwear, or a baby crying in pain over teeth, when in the middle of a phone conversation I suddenly remember what it was I forgot to put on the grocery list (and then promptly forget again) ... you know. Those days when I was a real person, not just a shadow.

It doesn't help that the majority of people in general seem to assume mothers of young children only want to talk about parenting matters, or about more emotional topics like how to be more loving and gentle and kind, or how to show Christ to your children and husband. I do, in fact, like to talk about all those things, and they are all extremely important and I need to be reminded of the latter two points often, don't get me wrong ...

But sometimes it's great to chat with Mom about Aquinas and his opinion on general revelation, or talk about what the Genesis account of creation really says with Carl, or blow off steam with Dad about why some people find it necessary to try to run other people's lives.

I suppose, in the end, as with so many other things, it's about balance. Being able to be a Mamma, and a good one who is attentive to her children's needs and always seeks out ways to live Christ for them, and also being able to be a scholar and a thinker at the same time.

Gee, it sounds exhausting just thinking about it. Maybe I should stock up on some more coffee.

(Kidding, Carl! I'm not going to become dependent on caffeine, I promise you! In fact, I'm going to get some un-caffeinated tea right now!)

And then I'm going to work on my story, writing about how to help a human gone over to wildness recapture her true nature, and keep one ear open for a little one who needs to go potty, and maybe try to fold some laundry in the midst of it all.

I never wanted to be a multi-tasker, but sometimes, I think, one has no choice.

The Meaning of Easter

Introducing Child of Grace's first ever guest blogger: Louise's handsome, wise, and long-suffering husband Carl! When he said to me the other day "If I had a blog, I would do a post about Easter," I promptly said, "Why not do it as a guest post on mine?" So he did. And here it is. Comments are always welcome, in agreement or disagreement. Carl thrives on discussion.

What is the true meaning of Easter?  For a while now I’ve had reason to explore that question quite a bit, or rather the issue of Christian holidays in general.  So our exploration of this question will have clear implications for other Christian holidays, especially Christmas, but I think it worthwhile to explore the issue now around this holiday.  (I apologize in advance if it gets too wordy.)

Statement of the Issue

From the standard Christian perspective of today, the question has a rather straightforward answer.  At a minimum, the true meaning of Easter simply entails the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  If we want to fill this out more theologically, we’d say that the true meaning of Easter is that God sent his sinless Son into the world to suffer and die on the cross for the sins of the whole world (or something of this flavor depending on how Calvinistic or Arminian one is).  This took place (on Passover Friday) so that anyone of all humanity might find forgiveness/reconciliation with God because Christ suffered the necessary punishment.  The resurrection on the following Sunday demonstrates, among other things, the sufficiency of his death and his conquering of the sin problem that enslaves humanity – all well and good.

The problem is that the society in which we live has very quickly drifted away from even the bare minimum Christian perspective.  Easter is a time where one looks forward to all the various chocolates and other candy that hits the market, the Easter baskets that are filled with them, decorating Easter eggs, going on egg hunts, stuffing one’s face with an especially large and good dinner shared with family.  If you’re religious enough, you may go to church one of the two or three times per year.  The TV commercials that are Easter-themed usually have some sort of bunny or little chicks or something else cutsie.  I even saw reference recently to an Easter commercial involving Greco-Roman gods in order to sell chocolate.

“Well, how pagan is that!” – The good Christian replies.  “That’s not the meaning of Easter.”  “How sad is it that this country has drifted so far from its roots to have completely forgotten the meaning of Easter” (you could insert “Christmas” here as well).  “We need to remind them of what the true meaning of Easter is”…and such is the general state of the church – pushing hard to restore the true meaning of historically Christian holidays.

**

However, there can be a considerable reaction from those a bit more historically informed, Christian or not.  The period after the Roman Emperor Constantine’s conversion in 312 A.D. saw diverse measures to Christianize the empire in seeking to establish God’s kingdom on earth.  People who weren’t Christians had many political (Christianized political) pressures placed on them to conform to Christianity.  But of course there was considerable resistance to this by those who weren’t Christian.  What resulted were many instances in which existing Christian festivals were aligned with pagan ones, or new Christian festivals created to align with pagan ones.  At very least, corresponding pagan festivals were blurred into the Christian ones.  The festival of Easter falls into this last category (Christmas falls into the second one.)  The time of the Christian celebration of the resurrection was based on Passover which coincided with the general time of the Spring Solstice; a time that many pagan religions celebrated.  The word “Easter” is derived from “Eostre”, an Anglo-Saxon goddess who was honored with feasts during the month of April.  So then, what surely follows from this is that Easter is at least partly pagan after all, right?  At the very least, the holiday has some degree of pagan roots and so the true meaning of Easter is not really all that Christian.  (This is even more true of Christmas, but we won’t get into that.)

**

Despite the historical roots, the Christian perspective on the true meaning of Easter is in many ways accurate.  Easter has, for much of the world that celebrates it, been focused around the Christian roots for a long established period; especially in this country - so that the established meaning of Easter is in many ways what the Christian community claims.  But the history of its roots is still there.  And how can something have a genuinely true meaning apart from its historical context?

Towards a Solution

But, there is something deceptive and ambiguous about talking about the “true meaning” of something.  Within a few paragraphs of writing, the term has taken a couple of different nuances.  Here’s where I think the start of the solution lies.

First, let’s ask, “What does it mean for a particular day to have a true meaning?”  (Keep in mind that we are talking about a period of time in which someone or something is honored or celebrated or worshipped.)  Does it mean that there is only one correct understanding of that day in the same way we correctly understand what someone wrote or said?  That certainly doesn’t make sense when speaking in terms of the mere 24 hour period of time in which Easter is celebrated because then we’d be saying that it was created (by God) for only the specific purpose of celebrating Easter.  Does it mean that there is one true meaning as if the day (that Easter is celebrated) points to a reality of the resurrection?  Now we’re really talking nonsense.  (An example of what I’m talking about is saying Jesus is the true temple, John 2, or the true vine, John 15.  He isn’t just the Christian equivalence of those things, he is the reality to which they pointed.) Lastly, does it mean there is only one correct personal significance of that day?  Significance is relative to the person so it can’t be correct or false.  Given this, the historical roots of a day or celebration cannot form the only true meaning that that day can have.  Different cultures/groups give a certain significance to the celebration of any particular day and this forms the “meaning” of that day for them.  So to speak of the “true meaning of Easter” to such a degree that everyone else is wrong is nonsense for there is no right or wrong meaning with respect to a given day.

When speaking in these terms, there is a correct understanding of the Christian significance of (the Christian) Easter, and likewise of any particular non-Christian significance of Easter.  For the pagan, it had/has one significance or meaning and for the Christian it had/has another.  What this does mean is that one can have an incorrect understanding of the Christian significance of the Christian Easter.  I think this is kind of the appearance of what has happened in our culture.  Easter has for a long time had such an exclusively Christian sense that when someone acts as if it’s not so, then they appear to be forsaking Easter by forsaking Christian Easter.  But this begs the question “Can a non-Christian find Christian significance in a particular day?”  The Bible would scream no.  The non-Christian finds his own non-Christian meaning or significance in the day, which is necessarily different that the Christian meaning.

That causes us to ask, “But, is one meaning better than the other?”  Is using the day to worship a pagan god or non-Christian ideals better, or is using it to worship the one Lord Jesus Christ because of the most important act in history and about which all of history is centered?  For the Christian, we say the latter is better.  This, I think, gets to the bottom of the issue: we as Christians don’t possess the true meaning of Easter, as if all others are false; we possess the best meaning.

**

While all that gets pretty philosophical, there is another facet and issue.  There are celebrations that have true meaning.  Passover for example has a given meaning from God such that one cannot truly celebrate Passover apart from the meaning given in Exodus.  Put another way, it’s redundant to call it a Jewish Passover as if there was another way of celebrating Passover.  It transcends (but includes) human significance, making it something that was truly created and commanded by the Creator.  For the Christian, communion is another example.  Jesus created the Lord’s Supper giving it a certain true meaning connected to an event with particular meaning.  However, are we commanded to celebrate the resurrection such as to be tied to a particular day or a particular celebratory fashion?  No, the Christian meaning of the day of Easter comes from Christians not from God.  At this point a couple of Christian problems can creep in.  1) The day becomes so special that it gets elevated to a status it wasn’t intended to have.  2) When this happens the elements of that day get elevated to a point where they (subtly) overshadow the purpose for them or the purpose for the celebration.  The Easter sermon is almost always expected but often interrupts a particular series and is almost always centered on the same two or three passages that are often never really looked at again until the next Easter (or Christmas).  The same hymns are sung, or the same cantata, etc.  For some this is nostalgic.  For others, this may distract from what the true focus should be and the day gets relegated to a lesser status, which can result in condemnation by those who take the traditional stance.

At this point, we need to hear the words of Paul on this matter, I’ll only quote part of the passage but the whole thing should be read: 

Who are you to pass judgment on another…One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike.  Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.  The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. (Romans 14:4-6a)

So then, it is good to set aside a day a year to genuinely celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus.  But we should be careful of making too much of the day so that the rest of the year we focus on his resurrection that much less; much better to celebrate it on a regular basis.  Along the lines of the main thrust of the passage, be careful about passing judgment on another, and search to be strong in the Lord by making every day a day of honoring Him.  In the case of Easter, should we not strive to celebrate or honor the most significant Christian event on a more regular basis?  

**

In the end, the increasing secularization of what has traditionally been a Christian holiday is a sad indicator of the state of affairs of this country and there is a sense in which the “true meaning” of Easter has been lost in large part.  But should we as Christians really be all that concerned about a Christian holiday that non-Christians make non-Christian?  That’s seems a poor focus – the problem is not that they’re not observing the day properly, but that they increasingly find ways of denying their Creator and not honoring him as Lord (Rom 1:18-31).  And perhaps one shouldn’t have a knee-jerk reaction when Christians decide that they won’t celebrate the Christian version of Easter because they realize it’s just a day; and especially one that is so filled with tradition that in many ways it blurs the significance of the event it seeks to honor.  Let us find the meaning that belongs to God, but even better if we seek it above man-made tradition and seek it daily.  The precious truth of Christ’s resurrection and the freedom it brings should be something we strive to celebrate and seek after daily.

A Question of Lamb (Study in Contrasts)

"Edward, my dear, the butcher's boy will be here today. Have you a preference as to which meats you would like me to order?"

"Oh no, my dear, whichever you prefer will be perfectly acceptable, I am certain."

"Beef is rather expensive; would you mind terribly much if we had lamb again?"

Edward hid a grimace. He loathed lamb. "Whatever you think is best, Elinor."

Elinor had never cared for lamb, but she knew how terribly important it was to keep a tight rein on their finances. And as Edward did not seem to mind ... "Very well, I shall order lamb."

At dinner, Edward swallowed another bite of the meat and forced a smile across the table at his wife. "Most excellent choice, Elinor."

Elinor had given herself as small a piece as possible, but it was still torture to finish it. "Thank you, Edward, you are exceedingly kind."

*&*&*&*&*

"Marianne, Cook just wanted me to ask you what sort of meat you would prefer to get from the butcher this week: beef or lamb?"

"Oh! How I hate thinking about those dear little lambs, gamboling about in the fields, only to be killed for our consumption. Let us never eat lamb in this household, my dear husband."

The Colonel was exceedingly fond of lamb, but he smiled dotingly at his young wife. "If that is your wish, my love."

Marianne was struck by a sudden thought. "Unless—do you like lamb, my beloved? I should so hate to do anything that causes you pain."

"No, no," he insisted. "My tastes do not matter in the slightest. If it is your desire, lamb will never be served in this house again."

"Oh no—I mean, that is my desire, but if you wish it, I shall order it every day! You have been so good to me, I can never repay you."

"Nonsense, darling, it is you who have been good to me, marrying me as you have. I live only to serve you. If you like, I shall buy every lamb in the village and keep them all for you, so that they will never be eaten!"

"Oh!" Marianne clasped her hands together, and turned to her sister, who had just now entered the room. "O Elinor, did you hear? My husband is going to buy all the lambs for me so they will not be eaten! I shall visit them every day and make wreaths of posies for their necks and wear a pink frock and sit on the green grass amongst them."

"They are very dirty, Marianne," Elinor pointed out. "And they will soon grow to be sheep, and what will you do then?"

"Oh Elinor, you have no concept of romance. How dull your life must be!"

As the husband and wife stared lovingly into each other's eyes, Elinor slipped into the kitchen to tell Cook lamb would most likely be off the menu for a few weeks, at least until Marianne forgot this particular conversation.

*&*&*&*&*

I have never been a huge fan of Sense & Sensibility, as neither sister particularly appealed to me (nor either hero, for that matter). I amused myself during my shower this morning by picturing married life for the two couples, wondering just how they would function during everyday life. The answer, of course, is that they would not, as they were created to be more caricatures than characters, meant to be portraits of two extremes instead of well-rounded human beings.

Hopefully my little study in contrasts will, if nothing else, amuse my readers. It amused me while I was creating it!