Providence and Seasons

In life, things do not always occur as planned. If you have been alive past the stage of an obstinate toddler, you know this. Yet, so many of us receive this lesson with agonized shock each time it is imparted to us. We question, we shake our fists to the sky, we weep into the chasm of chaos; as Jobs in all of humanity, undone, we cry out, "What is my strength, that I should hope? and what is mine end, that I should prolong my life?" (Job 6:11). Somewhere up in heaven, God is just shaking his head, maybe facepalming a little. For though the tested may, like Job, be among the faithful of the earth, each of us settles during these tribulations into a narrowed scope of "Nothing in life is worth this misery". The cause of it, perhaps, is a fundamental misunderstanding of seasons.

When I was two, I didn't understand why there just couldn't be snow in summer, or why God didn't slap bullies across the face with their own personal hurricane. My thought was that if I brought an umbrella, it had to rain. Many of us go through life like that. But I think now, that God gives us things like day and night and these four seasons to teach us profound and essential spiritual lessons about His ways. Life, inevitably, is an obstacle course of ups and downs that, like the hands of a potter on wet clay, mold us into what we are meant to be. When things are going smoothly, we see a perfect plan in everything-- each harrowing disaster in the past becomes a "bump in the road", and the future could not be anything but lovely and gentle. But the bumps do return, and as you go over them, they jostle, your clay chips, and you start to believe that any possible good in the future isn't worth this present torment. Is it?

I used to (and maybe still do) hate it when people said, "Oh, you need shadows to see the sunshine" or something else to the effect of "no appreciating the good without the bad". Believe me, I know chocolate is fantastic even without tasting broccoli first. That being said, it is true to some effect-- we learn to appreciate more what we are in danger of losing, and in comparison to the darkness, light seems to grow brighter still. Yet I think it's more accurate to say this; sometimes you have to endure the thunderstorm to have the joy of jumping in puddles later. And when you're terribly frightened by the booms and cackles, you learn that the house is safe and that your Daddy will always hold you close as you tremble. So it is that a three-year-old may understand more of God than the adult who gnashes their teeth and denounces faith in every poor circumstance.

As someone who struggles with bipolar disorder, I am unfortunately/fortunately intimately acquainted with this premise.

I won't play it like I've learned my lesson well. Without fail, each time I'm depressed I begin to draw a fantastic parallel to the book of Job. Cursing the day I was born, believing God must hate me for being terrible, the whole 'why is this happening', I'm unworthy of all goodness, general lack of perspective, etc. This presents a very real question on the case of optimism: Is it wrong to feel down? Does God condemn the times we stumble into the tarry pits of "woe is me"?

Let's take a look at the seasons.

Each is beautifully unique. Each is necessary for life. Spring heralds, "out with the lion, in with the lamb", promising gentleness, new life, and clearing of the storms. Summer brings bounty, and what feels like endless sun. In the fall, the produce is swept up, clouds begin to loom in the sky, and leaves scatter from the trees. Winter is barren and dormant, seeming impregnable and as endless as the summer before (though, you know, sledding always livens the days). And yes, too, we see the days pull longer and shorter. Leave it to God to turn a simple axial tilt of a planet into an allegory for all of life.

Galatians 6:9 says, "And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up."

1 Peter 1:6 says, "In this [salvation] you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials,"

And,

Psalm 40:1-3 says, "I waited patiently for the Lord, He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord."

As Job is reprimanded by God for his blindness in the current situation, it's easy to forget in reading that the very first verse of this book states that Job is among the righteous. He is "blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil." Two important things may be gleaned from this: The righteous are not exempt from suffering, and, it is possible for the righteous to be soul-shatteringly depressed.

The shortest verse in the Bible speaks volumes: Jesus wept. (John 11:35)

The Bible also says, in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." Which is a mouthful, but a very wise mouthful.

We have a wholly loving and gracious God, our Providence, who blesses us with the trials of seasons so that we may reap their joy, grow strong in Him, and mature our hearts to gratitude in all things good and righteous. The moments of anguish here on Earth are not ignored by Him, nor are we condemned for the ill of depression. He does not waste our suffering. God tells us not to lack faith in these times, not to assume we know better (Job 33:4, 38:4); but He also tells us to heap our burdens upon him:

"I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." ~John 16:33

The earth itself, in every trail, is but training to trust in Him, for He upholds us with His mighty hand (Isaiah 41:10) and carries our every anxious burden (1 Peter 5:7). We are children in thunderstorms, and in our desperation, we cling to our Father or the protection, salvation, and love He always, unconditionally, irrevocably offers.

Sow righteousness for yourselves,

    reap the fruit of unfailing love,

and break up your unplowed ground ;

    for it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes

    and showers his righteousness on you.

~Hosea 10:12 

New Year's Resolution

Working myself into shape was not my New Year's resolution this year. In fact, my resolution last year shifted mid-January from "go to the gym at least 4 times a week" into "never make a New Year's resolution ever again". This is for one simple reason: New Year kinda sucks for introverts, in a lot of ways. A pinnacle among them being the rush that occurs directly succeeding December 31st. If you haven't made a resolution for the year but plan to go to the gym during the month of January for any reason, just don't. Walk in circles around your living room if you have to, or go kayaking downhill in the snow, but avoid the gym for a quarter mile radius.

It's a cultural phenomenon that I like to narrate a la National Geographic. It's the prime season for the developing plumage of these lanky mammals, and they flock to the local calisthenics hole for a much needed "leg day". Ah, look, there's one female of the species now. She's roosted upon what looks to be an artifact of Medieval torture. If you listen closely, you can hear her dying inside...

But that usually gets me in trouble.

Okay, look, disregard that; the problem with these resolutions is that everyone tries to pick the same thing. My big issue with this whole New Year thing isn't in the essence of me celebrating with my cat and a party popper at 9pm ("It's 12 o'clock somewhere"), which, by the way, I actually didn't do this year so the joke's on you, Mom. No, this issue begins the following morning. And it has 99% to do with this glorious blessing that is introversion:

Gym resolutions would be so fun if I was the only one who made them! All of you, stop it. It's my thing now. Give up and go home.

Just once I'd like to ask someone what their goal for this year is to hear them say, "Oh, you know, a bowl of ice cream every other morning, the usual" or maybe "Gee, I hadn't really thought about it-- I think I might like to ride an ostrich this year." People could stand to be a whole lot more accepting of the things they genuinely enjoy, and that'd do it. Here's the thing: the shift to New Year isn't going to change you. You could make the choice to eat better, go to the gym, or get more sleep any other day. It's far better to start the year in a way you'll be glad to end it: Loving yourself.

If painting makes you happy, sign up for the class. Maybe you could challenge yourself to random acts of kindness. You could buy yourself some new mechanical pencils and fuzzy socks, or check Facebook less often, or go walk dogs at the local shelter-- while getting in shape may be a great objective, there are so many other experiences worth living. If your goal is to lose 15 pounds, add in a little bonus of "Visit that fresh market I love, once a week." If you love the concept of your goals but hate how you get to them, you'll run out of willpower along with your happiness. You have to love the journey or you'll turn back on the destination. (I know this because my dad always threatens to "turn this car around right now")

And what do I love to do? Well... read. So I custom-built a 52-week challenge, and it's just descriptive but also vague enough for you to do it with me, if you'd like! Then we can all talk about the books we read in one glorious online nerd haven. Basically, here are the specs: One book per week throughout the year. You can cram all you want, or you can read one each week, but you have to read all 52. In addition, while 13 are free-reads, a whopping 39 have prompts. You can take them in any order you like and push in your free book slots whenever you like. You can also, of course, read books outside of the challenge, or customize it for your own use. Or, you can apply multiple prompts to one book you read. (Though if you do that, you're kind of a party pooper, okay?) A lot of these prompts hail from this year's Popsugar reading challenge. I can't let myself completely decide the prompts, because the whole list would sound a bit like, "nonfiction about physics, nonfiction about birds, nonfiction about Vietnamese cooking..." But I digress. Here it is:

As I read along, I'll be updating my list of books read in the following. It'll offer recommended books for specific prompts, mini reviews, links to larger posts, and general asides:

• New York Times Bestseller: Life After Life (by Kate Atkinson). A while back I tried to read this book but only had the stamina to get halfway through-- it's not a good first book after a dry spell, I'll note that. It is, however, the most brilliant anti-war novel ever crafted. I hear y'all in the back screaming Slaughterhouse-Five, but I must politely disagree. I've read both, and here is the difference: Slaughterhouse-Five, while a masterpiece all on its own, merely convinces that war is brutal and irrational. Life After Life hits with force, spiraling through a tapestry of the destiny of one woman, Ursula, amor fati, into the pained realization that we cannot know every story. Friends become strangers. Family becomes the enemy. Time after time, new pathways are revealed, new insights, people who we think will live forever and then live short. Life After Life is unique because it looks to the sky. The whole world as a snake with a tail in its mouth. And it dies, comforted, in the hands of a stranger.
• Finish in a Day: The Crucible (by Arthur Miller). This is one of the three books I brought with me to this year's Winter Camp for my church-- and, due to a surprising amount of sociability, it was the only one I finished. To give warning, it is capable of messing you up psychologically and bringing you awash to your knees in emotion in a mere 143 pages. The very nature of humanity, in all its perilous vengeance, is examined under the light (or, shall we say, darkness) of the Salem witch trials. The deleted act is best read as an epilogue to a very cataclysmic preceding scene; and through it, in the entirety of these acts, you will begin to question what malignant nature resides inside of you, yourself, no matter how pious. The just are not safe, and the wicked are martyrs. Good show, Arthur Miller, good show. 10/10.
• Graphic Novel: Tina's Mouth: An Existential Comic Diary (by Keshni Kashyap). The following is addressed to those of you who think I can find no fault in literature (it is accurate, on most occasions): I had such high hopes for this one. In the very "prologue" of the diary, which is addressed to the existential philosopher Sarte, 'Tina' writes, "I'm not one of those girls who write in diaries about boys and popularity and that sort of thing, in case you were wondering". This happens to be excruciatingly ironic because it is the only thing this book deliberates on, besides some subtle nuances to do with caste systems and appropriation of religion; but its only worthwhile content consists of a few quotes from Camus and Sarte. Sadly, yet another work of fiction that portraits teenagers as hormonal drones incapable of grasping any measure of common sense, let alone meaningful philosophy. I could excuse this if it was well-written or slightly unpredictable whatsoever, like Why We Broke Up, but alas, this book has next to nothing to offer except for a certifiable reason to go out and prove it wrong. Yikes. I feel like I need to wash my mind out with another book.
• Book by a Comedian: Man Up!: Tales of my Delusional Self-Confidence (by Ross Mathews). To be honest, I'll be a bit biased about this one. That's because I am now, certifiably, one of Ross's best friends. In fact, the book's third sentence is a sharp, "So now that we're best friends (oh, by the way, we totally just became best friends)"-- And that's all you need to know in preview for what follows. If you're interested in a spunky, raunchy, cheeky take on everything from pajama pants to lap dogs to butternut squash, this one is for you. It's a great palate-cleanser from a long string of books, and there's never a dull moment (also, Ross is gayer than a rainbow lollipop in the hands of Neil Patrick Harris). Read it and gain a new best friend! It's witty and entertaining all the way through. And while you're at it, do yourself a favor and watch through all the Ross the Intern moments-- you won't be sorry. 
• Random From the Library: Finding Zero (by Amir D. Aczel). Aczel weaves, through poignant spirituality and captivating memoirs, a tapestry of numbers that span not only human experience and the meaning of its incorporeal void, but of an existence that transcends all that we are capable of perceiving. Not only does this striking account brilliantly explain Eastern philosophy and its relation to the origin of sets and infinite nothingness, it captures some of the most fundamental aspects of human psychology and its cognitive abstraction: the longing for beauty, the satisfaction of an endless journey, the quintessential soul of questions without answers, and of course, that pivotal hidden corner of the mind where the concept of Zero merged with the vastness of the Infinite to flourish and grow to fruition. 
• Translated: Why We Broke Up (by Daniel Handler, illustrated by Maira Kalman). This was once a Spanish series, but has since been compiled, translated, and turned into one of my favorite books. It was quite a shocking revelation to me that one of my favorite childhood authors was capable of stealing the limelight in my heart once again-- Daniel Handler, aka, Lemony Snicket. I'm thinking of making up a cheer about this. Something like "Lemony Snicket, he's the ticket" or "Go Handler, he's our man(dler)", but honestly, I'm begging you, just read this book. The illustrations are lovely and the man's a literary genius.
• Required for High School: Uncle Tom's Cabin (by Harriet Beecher Stowe)
• New York Times Bestseller: The Five People You Meet in Heaven (by Mitch Alborn)
• Set in Europe: A God in Ruins (by Kate Atkinson)
• The Mind-Body Problem (by Rebecca Goldstein)
• A Twist in the Tale (by Jeffrey Archer)
• What Alice Forgot (by Liane Moriarty)
• Blue Cover: The Soul of an Octopus (by Sy Montgomery)
• Recommended by a Family Member: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (by Douglas Adams)
• The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (by Douglas Adams)
• Frida's Bed (by Slavenka Drakulic)
• The Psychopath Test (by Jon Ronson) 
• Just Mercy (by Bryan Stevenson)
• Becoming a Movie this Year: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (by Ransom Riggs)
• First Book Seen at a Bookstore: Diary of an Oxygen Thief (Anonymous)
• A Field Guide to Awkward Silences (by Alexandra Petri)
• This Land is Their Land (by Barbara Ehrenreich)

Okay. This is my real resolution, and I implore you to consider it: Love yourself. While you fulfill your goals to get in better shape or advance in your career, be proud of the person you truly are. Take time to grow in your strengths and cherish what you enjoy, and spend time with those you love, because the year will go by fast-- and you won't want to waste a single moment by being anyone other than the amazing you. Trust me on this one. This year is full of possibilities set out just for you.