Friday, April 20, 2012

Pie


(Blogger has a new format. I'm trying to get used to it. This is a test post where I am playing with how to do photos, adjusting layout, etc.. They seem to publish much differently than they look in mock-up.  Please ignore! Sorry! Becca)
















When I was a little girl, my grandparents had a strawberry farm. I'm partial to raspberries or blueberries, but strawberries will always evoke home. I remember walking among the low lying acres of plants, eating handful upon handful of berries. They were sun-warmed, running full of juice. There was a little grit from the ground dirt every once in a while.

They make such pretty divisions, even rows of white lines bursting from their centers. There is a hollow spot in the middle like a breath. The edge closest to the sun is heavy with honey. As a whole, each berry moves weight to air.



Adding rhubarb


Thicken. Sweeten. A little lemon. Cinnamon. Fragrance binds. All good things come together.

















It weeps a little at the marriage. Sugar softens colors, turning them frosty pinks and soft greens. It is a fairy world.

Flour to separate. Flour to bind. Cast without thought, careless and perfect. Calligraphic.
The debate has always been how to work the pastry. If I push it to beauty, it will be tough. If I work it with a light hand, it will be light as snow but unattractive. Each time I must decide between pride and tenderness. Love or glory?

Butter of course. There is no other way.

Little finger places around the edges. Uneven. Flawed. It doesn't matter in the least if they are. I have loved those little finger places since I was a child. That someone's touch has made them, that someone left the shape of her attention has always been beautiful to me.
The juice dripped over the edges a bit. The soft scent of burned sugar. Berries have resigned in the heat, melded, become something altogether new.

Whipping cream. Vanilla. Sugar.

It melts like a dream in the morning light.










Sunday, April 15, 2012

Sermon Notes - B. Reynolds - April, 15, 2012

Daniel 1:1-7

Core question: To whom are you giving permission to define your identity? Are you letting someone in the world give you a label that isn’t accurate?

Context: Babylon had dominated God’s people, and the situation felt hopeless. The Hebrews were humiliated, because it seemed like God wasn’t showing up to defend himself. They likely felt foolish for believing in Him. It looked as if God was letting chaos rule, and there were many reasons to doubt His love and provision.

If you look at the reasons the Hebrews had to doubt God, some are pretty intense. For example:

1.) There was an apparent shift in power. Even the vessels of the temple were confiscated and used disrespectfully by their enemy. It could have easily seemed like God wasn’t even defending His own name or values. Was God allowing evil to triumph? What kind of faith does it take to walk with God into a situation that appears broken and hopeless and trust that He still has a plan for it?

2.) It seemed like outward appearances were more important than inward strength. Daniel, Shad, Mesh, and Abedn were chosen because they were young, intelligent, able, and desirable. This raises two issues:

A. If that was the selection process God allowed, what hope was there for the weak and unable? Does this even fit with God’s statement that He cares more about the condition of our hearts than he does about our worldly appeal? When the Hebrews who were not chosen saw this selection process, did they doubt God’s concern for them?

B. Also, were those guys tempted to see their value in this identity given by the world? Were they flattered? What sort of faith does it take to see our true identity when we are being praised for our surface strengths? (Here’s the old question: ss success sometimes a bigger temptation as failure?)

3.) The elite training these guys received was focused on serving a worldly king. They were discipled in the values of Babylon.

*Illustration of a haunted house and all of the stimulus presented to disorient you (flashing lights, seemingly crooked floors, noise, etc.). Once the foundations are shaken, we are more easily manipulated. The Babylonian training program was meant to disorient these guys from their old heritage and acclimate them to the new. This is what happens to us. We are hit with all sorts of stimulus that attempts to skew our focus. What stimulus is being thrown at me right now that could “define the world” if I let it?

4.) These guys were hit with an alternative identity. They were literally renamed. Old names that had recounted God’s faithfulness were taken away and new names were assigned to them that represented the values of the worldly kingdom. They were called by the new “gods” they were supposed to serve. This was an attempt to disrupt their core identity. The world says, “You are ______ (insert title here).”

“If you aren’t careful the world will rename you.”

*Illustration of the Bourne movies. Here was a plot that showed a person’s identity being stripped out and another forced into him. He lost himself.

The bottom line:

You are a stranger, an exile, a wanderer. There is a reason you feel disconnected sometimes. Christ lives in you, so in that sense you are complete, yet you are not fully home yet. This is your season as an ambassador. This is not yet the end of things, and that is why you feel a sense of longing so often.

While you walk in the shadowlands, are you willing to believe what God says about you, or are you buying what the world says about who you are?

C.S. Lewis quote: (Screwtape)

“Now it may surprise you to learn that in His efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the troughs even more than on the peaks; some of His special favorites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else. ...

...It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please Him best. We can drag our patients along by continual tempting, because we design them only for the table, and the more their will is interfered with the better. He cannot “tempt” to virtue as we do to vice. He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there He is pleased even with their stumbles. Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring, but intending, to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.”

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

How I Decide on a Facebook Status

WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND? (Sound of Becca typing...)

"Planted potatoe."

(5 seconds later. "Darn it. Type-O." Delete.)

"Planted potatoes."

(5 seconds later. "I should add the apostrophe or something to acknowledge the implied "I." Delete.)

" 'Planted potatoes."

(5 seconds later. "That looks noncommittal. I am not ashamed of being a potato planter."

"I planted potatoes."

(5 seconds later. "That looks narcissistic. Am I the only person who has planted potatoes today? No." Delete.)

"We planted potatoes."

(5 seconds later. "No, WE didn't; because actually, I haven't started yet. However, I'm going to start planting potatoes as soon as I decide how this dumb status should be worded." Delete.)

"Today is the day for planting potatoes."

(5 seconds later. "Someone is going to think I'm planting white potatoes. My potatoes are not white, they are red. The glycemic index on red potatoes is better." Delete.)

"Today is the day for planting red potatoes."

(5 seconds later. "I have friends who want to learn how to garden. They will read this and think you can plant whole potatoes. They will fail, and never try to garden again, and it will be my fault." Delete.)

"My carefully-divided red seed potatoes have been drying for two days on cardboard pizza trays that I found free at Sam's. This will prevent rot as they develop roots and leaves. They are now ready to plant, and I will begin to do that in a few minutes."

(5 seconds later. "Now that is just cerebral, and stupid, and I am a nerd, and I hate myself." Delete.)

"red potatoes. earth. hope."

(5 seconds later. "Nice. The status equivalent of a Dollar Store plastic e.e. cummings Halloween mask. Becca, you are forty now. Use complete sentences. Use capital letters." Delete. Ask a question.)

"Has anyone planted potatoes yet?"

(5 seconds later. "Someone is going to think I'm being competitive. People are so competitive. Why is everyone competitive? I don't want to threaten people and make them hate themselves just because I planted my blasted potatoes. What if someone just had back surgery and can't plant potatoes? What if they can't eat gluten? Do potatoes have gluten? What if this status causes them angst, or envy, or discontent? Delete.)

"Today I have horrible acne, and I am bloated. I have a crooked nose, and my feet are too big. Also, I might plant potatoes, if being forty and firmly established on the downhill backside of my aesthetic prime will allow me to work the land like the lower-middle class middle-aged woman I am."

(5 seconds later. "I forgot to talk about how the potatoes were beautiful. The potatoes are beautiful, all purply-red potato pieces and orange Tennessee clay. The people should know how beautiful that is. I should write a poem about the potatoes. I bet they are a symbol for something. Delete.)

"The potatoes yearn for the earth. They have come to know death. They will rise again..."

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Beauty in the Congo

This changes what I want to do with my life.

Also, mommies who don't have "time to create," watch this.

CLICK HERE TO WATCH.

Caveat. I have reservations about pushing Western art into other cultures as if it is superior. I think mutual artistic respect should be the context of any venture like this. What I love about this video is the dignity and respect for imago Dei that comes with making beauty in broken places. Furthermore, it humbles my whining ... "I don't have enough ______ to _______." Oh, really?