effigy

but hey, it's home.

Not Even a Hint: review of Josh Harris' latest book

I won't pretend to evaluate this book objectively. None of us come to anything with blank slates and clear spectacles. We all politely push our presuppositions onto the table, and we humbly and hypocritically hide behind our personal baggage after slamming it down with deafening clarity.

Well, I won't say "we" and speak for others. I'll say "I."
(But I'll mean "we.")

I mean "we" because my friend says he’s reached the point now where he’d honestly choose homosexuality over heaven. And my friend caught her mom in an adulterous relationship. And my friend walked out on his wife and four children after being involved with another woman over the Internet. And because I myself am neither spotless nor immune.

So, yeah. No vacuum here. I come to this book with a lot of nominal reasons to dump or to minimize, and a lot of undisclosed reasons to hope or to criticize.

Josh Harris doesn't know that he and I go way back. My respect for him is tempered but intact. To aging ministers who have spent 30-year careers struggling to establish fences at the top of moral cliffs and ambulance and nets at the foot of moral cliffs, Harris may seem like a mere upstart who quoted Elisabeth Elliot and John Piper a few times and got himself a lucky break into the Christian publishing world. Appearances deceive. And our words ought to be sweet and tender since we may someday have to eat them.

One reason I've enjoyed all three of Harris' books is that I come away from them with an increased longing for an increasingly intimate and authentic relationship with the Lover of my soul. A good Christian author will create in you a thirst to go read the Word of the Author and Finisher of our faith. As a 27-year-old with no long-term romantic relationship experience and no immediate plans for such, I feel at least somewhat qualified to say that if a "mere upstart's" book can help me to meditate on exceedingly-greater future plans and present sanctification rather than the doubts and temptations that barrage and threaten to undo me daily…I confess I don't care how wet his earbacks may be.

Josh Harris made bigtime automatic points with me when he quoted my all-time favorite song in the world -- Before the Throne of God Above. A book that cites this song cannot go wrong. He also quotes from greats like Baxter, Lewis, Ryle, Mohler, Stott, Owen, Piper and Bridges. Again -- it's hard to go wrong.

I took 4 pages of single-spaced notes from this book. It's a short read, but I had a lot at stake (in addition to my apparently-increasing ADHD-like intolerance for sitting still long enough to read any book these days). And I could say a lot, but I don't want to rehash a book I'd rather you read for yourself. So I'll do my best to boil this review down to a couple of adjectives.

Harris makes no bones about the fact that the glory of God is central and that victory is merely "a byproduct of obedience." A constant theme throughout is that this book cannot deliver an immediate, comprehensive cure for our propensities and addictions. I appreciate that Harris acknowledges the supremacy of God's agenda (including His will that we be sanctified) and the sufficiency of the Word (i.e., His primary means of grace). I appreciate the distinction he makes that, while God calls us through sacrifice, He does not call us to it as an end in itself (172). Perhaps it's worded most directly in this excerpt:

I don't think we should make overcoming lust our primary preoccupation -- we need to make the gospel and God's glory our focus. We need to give our selves to knowing Him, worshiping Him, and meeting with Him every day. The result will be the weakening of lust and a growing passion for godliness (170-71).

I think Harris shows great insight when he points out that lust's ultimate goal is not sex but the forbidden (93). Dissatisfaction with God is the kind of sin that leads to more sin (158). Harris rightly echoes the prophecy of Jeremiah that when we turn our back on God to do our own way and seek our own pleasure, we forsake the fountain of life to hew out for ourselves broken cisterns that hold no water. Those of us who have been caught up in our lusts ("such were some of you -- BUT GOD") understand that it comes down to God or self. Lust has everything to do two alternatives: either giving up on God and living for the pleasures of the moment – or else flinging all on God and living in the light of eternity.

We are all expert sinners, but that doesn't mean we're all real great at dealing with our own or others' sins. I am only beginning to learn what Piper means when he says he needs to hear other believers praying for grace, or what Barnett means when he talks about how key relationships in the Body are and how we ought to be open with one another in a grace-filled community. While proud looks and haughty spirits are abominations to the Lord (ranking right up there with immorality), we seem to excuse our posturing, cavorting performances of "I'm OK at Church Today." Rather than take a blow to the ego and join the humble ranks of the sin-prone and grace-dependent, we opt to wage lone-ranger wars, driving on and spiraling down -- for years -- without seeking help or accountability for devastating sin struggles.

And when someone does hobble forward on his last leg to admit a struggle and ask our help, we promise a ring and robe but instead brand his stuck-out neck and ostracize him. This response most certainly encourages the next prodigal husk-biter to leave his trough and run the long road home. After all, if we burn all his bridges and barricade the path of grace, we'll get a better idea of whether he really means business.

I appreciate Harris' humility and honesty. There have been a couple of books published recently that demonstrate a similar level of candor and practicality, and I think Harris is wise to write what his readers need to hear. We have been casting about -- I know that I have only recently read some material that I wish had been written when I was a teenager.

As a female blogger, I suppose I should expound here on how I think Harris' book sizes up in sizing up the woman's take. Long story short, he's definitely on the right track. As I mentioned here, I do struggle with lust, have struggled with lust. It's not a merry-go-round that you simply get onto or off of. No. It's IN you. And if you say it's a guy thing, chances are you're either a guy or a liar.

Looking back from the other side of the reading, I almost think it wasn't frank and potent enough. But (and I admire him for this as well), Harris' primary objective was not to shock people, nor to provide "everything we need to make [sexual purity] a reality." No, he says himself that God is the one who calls us to and can enable us to meet that standard of "not even a hint of sexual impurity" (back cover).

My favorite section of this whole book is pages 152-157, where Harris combats the lies of lust with straight Scripture and encourages readers to do the same. And the pattern is consistent throughout the book. He reminds us that Christianity is a fight of faith -- a matter of believing God's Word and carrying out our beliefs with action. Harris continually points his readers to the revealed Word of God as our rule of faith and practice, sufficient to equip us with all we need for life and godliness. I would just reiterate here my belief that the right kind of book will work itself out of a job. In other words, we find that we want to set that book down and immediately pick up a Bible and walk a biblical lifestyle.

Speaking of books, you didn't come on here to read another one.

Let me close with this:

Writing a book about lust is no easy task. Lust is a common but private sin that manifests itself in unique ways to varying degrees with irreparable, massive, lifelong consequences. I may not agree with Josh Harris on every point of interpretation or application, but I think this book would be an asset to your library (in other words, if you're not a blogger already exulting in your free copy -- go out and buy one).

Good for Josh that he refuses to claim his book is something it can't be. It is not a cure for your addictions, nor a fix for your insatiable appetites. It's not a magic pill to rid you of your pet patterns of sexual thoughts and behaviors. But it is a signpost that will point you to the City. And when you're lost in the woods with no visibility, even a mere signpost is legitimate cause for buku rejoicing.

Email Josh Harris.
Visit the NEaH weblog.
Buy the book.

:: MINISTRY URLs ::

Desiring God Ministries
Redeemer Presbyterian Church of NYC
Setting Captives Free
Covenant Life Church
Grace Harbor Counseling Ministries

:: RECORDINGS ::

These are from the online sermon store
at Redeemer Presbyterian Church of NY's Web site
[ http://www.redeemer.com/ ]

Series ID: S801
Series Title: Sex, Singleness, & Marriage
Dr. Timothy J. Keller
Sex, Singleness, & Marriage

Series ID: S906
Series Title: Self Esteem Seminar
Dr. Timothy J. Keller
Self Esteem, Co-dependency, Gender Roles

And these from Desiring God Ministries:
[ http://www.desiringGod.org/ ]

Series ID: LBMW
Series Title: Biblical Manhood and Womanhood
Dr. John Piper
Sexual Complementarity Seminar, Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood

:: BOOKS ::

Every Woman's Battle by Shannon Ethridge
Every Man's Battle by Steve Arterburg
Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood
by John Piper and Wayne Grudem
Passion and Purity by Elisabeth Elliot
Fidelity by Douglas Wilson*

* I haven't read these yet, just have heard good things.

gypsy's rain

It's raining on the river tonight. The weather has been downright balmy all day, maintaining a steady 50-something degrees, but just enough grey to keep the glare off the computer screen. Makes me wish I was able to stay home and work for BigBlueHat full time, with an Easter cantata or Regina Carter's Paganini playing in the background and pasta boiling in the kitchen. If any of you out there are looking for a Web site....

While you're thinking about it -- this photo is expressly for M. of the Gypsies: rain on the screens (in lieu of skylight).

affinities and the word for the day

Today's word is IMPLODE, by the way. Recycling poems for the occasion...

AFFINITY
10 October 2000

It is no small epiphany,
this news you've had a piece of me,
that bones from my few wishing sprees
are part of your anatomy.

No -- it crushes and explodes
like a bomb, or it implodes
as does my throat
when i must weep
but simply won't.

The mangled shrapnel soaks my eye --
imposing, all-exposing dye,
its piercings fierce, not ever shy.
It forces me to qualify --

No -- these wishing wells would burst,
stronger bones would splinter worse,
if I were called to amputate!?
just for a fall.

yellow and blue makes green

My family has this tradition, see. We don’t "believe in" Easter baskets and pagan bunny fests, so we do spring baskets on the first day of spring and just celebrate the Resurrection on [Easter] and let the bunnies observe their own traditions. ...

So my dad and Luke come down Saturday to pick up the piano, and they bring me my spring basket, right? Right. But my spring basket this year has lost a bit of its luster. That is, it's all shiny and smooth and chock full of delectable rabbit-worship candy and all that jazz…but this year it’s minus the basket. No basket, no fake grass, no plastic eggs with surprises. This spring, I’ll turn 28.
And this spring, I got my spring basket in a zip-lock bag.

Now understand (especially Mom, if you read this), that I will always love my mom and chocolate. I have had them both for as long as I can remember, and I laughed and swore to keep both of them even after my heart condition was diagnosed. I am committed to them, and my love for them is unconditional. Externals are, in the big scope of things, merely externals, after all. A zip-lock bag is merely the shell. The vehicle. The venue. The clay jar holding the precious ointment. The worn chest holding the treasure. I know this. I understand that looks aren’t everything. Appearances deceive, and so on. I'm well aware.

However, there is something about the observance of holidays (the holiday of March 21st, in this case) that just smacks of economic principles and the end of Peter's Neverland. Every year, I get fewer and fewer utils of satisfaction out of presents and traditions and general holiday hubbub. I enjoy Christmas less every year. I understand that I've outgrown pajamas with the built-in feet. I understand that someone threw away J's Weebles and my Wizard of Oz puzzle (as though our progeny surely wouldn't care to see our antique toys). I understand that things change. I understand that the magic begins to do a disappearing act.

But I'm concerned at change’s velocity and voracity. I’ve been doing the trending and predicting. Last year it was a spring basket. This year, a spring zip-lock bag. What does that mean for next year? A spring napkin? WHAT, I ask you?

itinerary

2 concerts.
1 really weird art exhibit.
1 absolute worst driving-in-Chicago experience EVER (but I was still on time).
1 grande caramel macchiato.
2 family members coming to reclaim property.
1 piano send-off.
1 convalescent trip to thrift store.
2 grande caramel frappes.
1 spring break refugee send-off.
12 mixed emotions.

hymnal-scissors-rock

Our church is commemorating John Newton's spiritual birthday today by singing some of his nearly 300 hymns and exulting in GRACE which saves and sanctifies.

personal meditation/application:

lust of the flesh -- wanting to have and be had
lust of the eyes -- wanting to see and be seen
pride of life -- wanting to know and be known

favorite stanza (unfortunately omitted from most hymnals):

Saviour, since of Zion's city
I through grace a member am,
let the world deride or pity;
I will glory in Thy name.
fading is the worldling's pleasure,
all its boasted pomp and show --
SOLID JOYS and LASTING TREASURE
none but Zion's children know.

~ John Newton in "Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken"

Lucy, hang on

Thanks to all for the Lucy poems; mine's done now.
(Others: Don't panic. The thread's not dead, if you still want to contribute.)
I'd like to do this again sometime. It really makes me think to have to tie together bizarre juxtaposed facts and try to portray a whole person in such a tiny slice of text...and yet these are the very kinds of far-flung details that uniquely comprise any human being's existence.

STARBUCKING

At recess Monday, no one comes
to pick her for their kickball team;
and Wednesday they will cancel class
to hold a service in the gym.
And Friday there'll be counseling
to keep the kids alive and well.

God, please help me on this test;
God, help me get an A.
And please help Jason 'cross the room,
'cause he says he won't pray.

She'll get this job if there's a God;
and if there's not, she'll get a drink,
a mocha frappe to swallow whole.
She's learned a barrel-load of facts.
She knows she can improve or quench,
if not the past, at least the pain.

God, please help me pass this test;
God, help me just this once.
And please help Daddy understand
I don't look good in Brown.

Short skirt, long jacket, manicure,
a Subaru with racked canoe,
a desert thirst for more to drink,
a locket burning through her back.
All eyes on Lucy: Exit car
and take the safety off.

God, please help me get this job.
God, help me cross this room;
'cause now I feel like twelve years old
and Jason got the A.

gleanings

I thought sure I'd be either "E.T." or "Emma"

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

occasional tanka: meeting memories

well -- her lot in life
the leaking cracks in her core
the bottomless ache
but will it do any good
to turn back and drink right on

oh -- to set aside
to leave behind the leaving
to not carry this
for once, to be sought for, once
to be carried, full, and kept

well -- another mouth
another set of eyes to
watch the whore at work
debate and criticize, know
such new things under the sun

oh -- he pours the whole
the story drops and falls there
all the pent-up curse
pools around their tired feet
every weaker vessel bursts

well -- he offers life
he carries, fills, and he keeps
stays and satisfies
so can it do any harm
turn to him and drink right on

shameless solicitation

I'm going to borrow an idea from UBERTATI and borrow your brains. What you do is take the information below and try to write a poem with what you're given, and in a limited amount of time. You'll probably better understand its value as an exercise AFTER you try.

Her name:
Lucy O'Neil
Her claim to fame:
Most popular girl at Dotonamap Elementary School from kindergarten through 5th grade.
Most significant event of her life:
When they were in sixth grade, her step-brother shot himself because her dad had promised him a four-wheeler if he got all As like her...but he got a C.
What she's doing right now:
Getting out of her Subaru for an interview at a coffeehouse.
What she wants more than anything at the moment:
A tall mocha frappe.

dasvidania

Tennessee and back again....

This weekend, I was able to attend the wedding of my friends Anne and Vitaliy. Anne used to be my supervisor when we were scriptwriters for HomeSat. She was the source of a lot of fun memories. For an English lit supplemental video series, we were having trouble casting this one role for an eccentric aspiring authoress ("ALice ALison APpleby"), and Anne volunteered to act the part herself -- gaudy costumes, quirky habits, froofy posturing and all. It was hilarious.

Anne was the one who brought me to Rockford in the first place to scope things out. It was in the middle of the spring semester, and we were lunatics. We didn't time the 14-hour trip too well and ended up arriving around 1am on a very foggy Saturday morning, wide awake and looking for an open Wal-Mart so we could buy a city map. Of course, we proceeded to drive through the worst areas of town before giving up the quest and spending the rest of the night sleeping in the church parking lot. We woke about 5.30 (forgot the time change) and promptly went apartment-hunting in the fog. Time/space/Anne would not permit me to tell of the next day's adventures -- sidewalk conversations, eggrolls, enebriated scar-ridden Cuban requesting bear hugs, bicycling knife-wielder, cat-sized alien squirrel, shameless resume promotion, ice cream jumpers and all -- but be assured it was a memorable weekend.

This was a landmark weekend as well. I don't think I'm ready to talk about the majority of it yet. For now, I'll say I did visit the famed Greyfriar's and thoroughly enjoyed a reunion with Aaron and Marjeana as well. Chattanooga was warm and interesting, if brief. But yeah. Can't really blog everything.

P.S. If anyone has a deck and a half cassette stereo for a 93 Chevy Cavalier wagon at your local junkyard, let me know. It takes 16 D batteries to keep my CD/cass player going for 22 hours, and it takes up a lot of room. Luther was packed out for this trip anyway, especially since I took along Tim Keller and Mark Minnick and a few musicians. Proportionally, I have to say Pastor Minnick took up the most space; but everyone was competing for the front seat while I kept sane with Mountain Dew (sorry to all those who thought I stopped -- the fast did end after the whirlwind trek to SC in November), beef jerky and sunflower seeds.

It was crazy. You know what else is crazy -- the fact that I'm typing away here and just saw a squirrel or hybrid jackelopish thing hopping around in the size and manner of a rabid lopsided kangaroo.

photo friday: "perspective"

___________________________
:: for more about Photo Friday ::

Chattanooga: Revolutions

So this weekend, my plan was to pull an all-nighter and drive down to Chattanooga for a friend's wedding. She's an EFL instructor at a seminary in Kiev, and she's going to marry a Ukrainian man I've never met. Since they're only in town temporarily (due to visas, logistics, etc.), I am seriously hoping to be there to catch this grand event Saturday.

In other news, I heard my roommate on the phone at 2:30 yesterday morning, and she was wide awake and zipping about the house. Under normal circumstances, she is completely incapable of zipping anywhere before about 9am, so I kind of figured something had happened. She, a Chattanooga native, was up all night making flight arrangements and packing because her dad suffered an aneurism. She flew out of Chicago at 8am yesterday and will still be in Chattanooga when I get there for the wedding...only she will be in town for her dad's memorial service.

And now, Gypsy and Jeep will both be out of town, taking their Greyfriar's to-go mugs with.

fun at Mel's Diner