"You like me! You really like me!"

Thanks to all you who pampered my ego and left comments below. It is fun to find out who is reading this thing!

This past week I have been gearing up for teaching again, which, lucky me, has included some re-reading of the incomparable C.S. Lewis. I count myself blessed that class preparation means I get to plop myself down on the couch and devour his essays for hours at a time! I thought I'd sharethe following bounty from "The Weight of Glory," one of Lewis's better known sermons on heaven.

In speaking of this desire for our own far-off country, which we find in ourselves even now… I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you – the secret which hurts you so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness … The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing.

These things – the beauty, the memory of our own past – are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited…. Almost our whole education has been directed to silencing this shy, persistent, inner voice; almost all our modern philosophies have been devised to convince us that the good of man is to be found on this earth…

We do not merely want to see beauty, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words – to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it…. At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in. When human souls have become as perfect in voluntary obedience as the inanimate creation is in its lifeless obedience, then they will put on its glory, or rather that greater glory of which Nature is only the first sketch.

"Poetry replaces grammar

Gospel replaces law

Longing transforms obedience

As gradually as the tide lifts a grounded ship."

C.S. Lewis – The Weight of Glory

Shameless plea for attention

Okay, it's that time again... Jen's feeling cut off and out of touch with people, so I have a small request: if you're reading this, leave me a comment. Just say Hi, or tell me what you ate for breakfast, or what is the hot new TV show in the States, what weird new celebrity baby name is popular now, what stupid song on the radio is driving you nuts...

It's very easy: click on the link below where it says "comments," then type something in the white box, click "Other" and type in your name, then ENTER. Very simple.

As a reward for your efforts, I offer some workplace distraction in the form of Monk-E-Mail. Enjoy. :)

"Reports of its death have been greatly exaggerated"

So I stayed up MUCH too late last night, downloading a video clip (here) of a Charlie Rose show from last week, in which he interviewed Rick Warren (you know, the Purpose Driven Life guy) and Greg Boyd (one of my former Bethel College profs and pastor at the church I went to in Minnesota). As I mentioned below, Greg's new book, The Myth of a Christian Nation, has been getting major press since the New York Times ran a front page story on it in late July.

I have been doing my best to keep informed about how Woodland Hills Church is handling all the press attention, and have been praying too that as Greg gets a moment in the media sun, he'll have a chance to truly and sincerely present the truth and beauty of Jesus' Kingdom, without getting pushed into a defensive position (as so often happens when Christians do these kinds of interviews). Please pray with me. :)

Strangely, though, what I'm thinking about most this morning is something that Rick Warren said in the earlier portion of the program. Rick was responding to Charlie Rose's question, "what does Christianity look like today?" He said that Christianity is now found in greater numbers in Asia, Africa and South America than in the Northern Hemisphere. Rick went on to talk about the growth of the church in those regions, and what exciting things are taking place there. "The church in Europe is dead," he said, "and it remains to be seen whether America will go down the same path of secularism or experience a third Great Awakening" (I'm paraphrasing here).

My gut response to hearing, as I have before, about the exciting movement of the Spirit going on in Asia and Africa was, "get me on the next plane there!" In Christian circles, it is pretty fashionable to go India and Africa and Asia - and rightly, we should go wherever God leads. But I think we should be careful of making statements about where "the Spirit is really moving" or that "the church is dead." We are vessels of the Holy Spirit; we are the church. Though I know he didn't mean it, what I heard beneath Rick Warren's pronouncement (which is one I've heard many times) was a sort of "its okay to abandon Europe, let's go where people want to hear our message!" And so this “church in Europe is dead” statement becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Another thing I heard in Rick’s statement was an attitude I've picked up in my time working with ESI and other ministries. That is, that the Christians who go to "third world" or developing nations (a la Africa, India, the Middle East) are "real" missionaries, while life in Europe is far too cushy and Western to be "real" missions. It is very subtle, and I don't think anyone would actually vocalize this, but I think we still have a mental hierarchy in our perceptions of what missionaries are. Missionaries are like Jim and Elisabeth Elliot, living in huts in the jungle. Missionaries look different; they have 80s haircuts, eat weird things, don't watch TV or movies, don't ever swear or go dancing; they have lots of kids, etc, etc.

Clearly I’m exaggerating, but I have gotten enough questions about “what is it like to be a missionary” that I have learned to ask in reply, “what do you mean when you say ‘missionary’?” I think there is still a very prevalent image of a missionary as a “special” kind of Christian. I truly think that this kind of hierarchical thinking – that those who go to far-off cultures or uncomfortable locations are the real missionaries, while the rest of us are just ordinary Christian – damages the church’s ministry. Sometimes I get letters that encourage me in my work “on the mission field.” “Where is this field? At what point did I step into it?” I wonder. The border of the “mission field” doesn’t begin once you get your passport stamped on the way out of the United States. All of us are standing on the mission field, all the time, regardless of where we are. And I am only willing to accept the “missionary” title if every other Christian will accept it as well. I am not in any sort of special Christian category because I am here in Lithuania – I just happen to feel that my training and interests and heart is better used here, and so I teach and live and eat and play and cry and laugh and go dancing and ride bikes and watch T.V. and sleep, in another country, rather than in the U.S.

I think that when we put missionaries into a special category of service, it prevents Christians from examining their lives for how they might be strategic in the relationships they’re involved in, or how their gifts might be used in their neighborhoods and communities nearby. We think of missions as being something “out there,” done by other people, instead of as a way of living that is commanded of all Christians. (For those who like theology terms, this is what is meant by the 'missional' church. It means that I exist for the good of the church, and the church exists for the good and the purpose of blessing the world.)

And so when Rick Warren declares that the church in Europe is dead, I worry that my fellow-Christians in the United States will hear that as a reason to flock to more exciting, cutting-edge and exotic mission locations, rather than considering the work of God in a place where, yes, the lifestyle is pretty comfortable, but where people are just as spiritually needy and hurting (maybe even more so) as anywhere else in the world. It’s more glamorous in Christian circles to go to India, or Zimbabwe, than to France or Italy or even Lithuania. Be honest, we think that way, don’t we? I think we need to change our thinking into a more global mindset, and ask, first of all, what has God gifted me with, where is there need, and what does He call me to do here and now?

And the church in Europe is only dead if we refuse to ask the Great Healer to breathe new life into it. :)

Forest on the Curonian Spit (Neringa), at sunset 

Adventures in Biking, Baltic-style

If I haven't mentioned it here before, I should tell you that the forest and coastland of Lithuania is really, really lovely. One of my fondest hopes this summer has been to spend some time bicycling on the beautiful Curonian spit, which is a protected national park area just a 5 minute ferry ride off Klaipeda's coast. Sunday afternoon, my friend Nicole and I decided we would bike to Juodkrante, a picturesque town not far down the spit. And an epic adventure ensued...

We had in our minds that Juodkrante was about 12 kilometers from Smiltyne (our starting point) by bike, which is a bit less than 6 miles - not a big deal for an afternoon stroll. This turned out to be not quite accurate! The distance was more like 16 or 17 kilometers, and we were quite ready to be there much earlier than we actually arrived. Part of our anxiousness to get to the end of the journey was that the two bikes we'd borrowed from friends were a bit on the rickety side. One had a seat hard enough to bruise bone, and the other had a back brake that constantly rubbed the wheel, making it feel like you were lugging a piano uphill most of the time. Nevertheless, we finally made it to Juodkrante at about 5:30, after an hour and 45 min ride.

Since we were tired out, we decided to enjoy a nice walk in the woods, have some soup at the Villa Flora (where I seem always to end up for meals in Juodkrante), and then try to take the bus back - with our bikes stowed in the underneath compartment, of course. I probably don't need to tell you that the bus driver was not too keen on this idea. :) Despite my awkward Lithuanian sentence telling him - "we have two bikes, is that okay?" He reacted as if we were trying to carry nuclear materials onto his bus!

Though we were tired, Nicole and I cheerfully accepted our fate of pedaling back to Smiltyne in the lovely evening air. Any evening in Lithuania in which I can ride around without anything covering my arms is a good one, in my opinion, with winter and cold weather looming on the near horizon. So we started the trip back. The problem we soon became aware of, though, was that we didn't want to miss the 9:15 ferry - after that, the next one wouldn't leave until 10:15 and we would be stuck waiting around at the docks in the dark. It was 7:50 when we left Juodkrante, and 8:35 when we realized this fact. At this point we began riding as fast as we could. Now, I don't claim to be a triathlete or anything, but I was impressed by the speed we could actually get out of the rickety things! At one point we had a chance to ditch the bike trail and join up with the road - a straighter, smoother and more direct route - so we did, dodging traffic and praying as we did.

The kilometers ticked by. We passed the signs for various landmarks, saw the sign for the ferry docks, and then I saw the 9:15 bus heading past us going in the opposite direction. I yelled at Nicole that we needed to hurry up, and then we rounded the corner to see... the ferry hadn't left yet! In a burst of speed not seen since Steven Spielberg filmed kids on bikes pedaling E.T. into the air, we sped onto the ferry and just about collapsed.

Nicole's watch said 9:16. 30 seconds later they put up the chain and the ferry pulled away.

We were so proud of ourselves and our 1 hr and 20 min time that I don't think we noticed that our panting and grinning was greatly amusing the Lithuanians and tourists around us. All in all, it was a 35 kilometer ride round trip, and we definitely have the sore muscles to prove it!

A Journey in Pictures

My journey began in Santiago de Compostella in Galicia, northern Spain, where my friend Kristen was studying for the summer. I spent 4 days with her before taking a train to Paris to meet up with my former Budapest roommate, Annie Nelson, who showed me around her part of France for 5 days. I know this is an unusual amount of photos from me, but I thought I'd do them this way rather than Flckr so I can add longer explanations here (like this legnthy one) and include some links. Enjoy! I'll be trying to catch up on correspondence this week, so if you haven't heard from me in awhile, don't despair. I will soon reenter the email realm!

In a weekend of lots of climbing up and down hills and stairs and paths, I made Kristen accompany me to the top of the Cathedral de Santiago. 

Santiago de Compostella square and fountains. 

This is the Cross of Saint James - notice how the end is pointed as a sword. After the bones of Saint James were "found" here in Santiago in the 12 century, he became the patron saint of the city, and was known as "James the Moor Killer." At the time, southern Spain was being ruled by the Moors and northern Spain was eager to proclaim, and reclaim, its Christian identity. I was strongly effected by this image of the fusion of the Cross and the Sword. It reminded me so much of a sermon series my former pastor, Greg Boyd, preached a couple years ago. He was recently interviewed in a New York Times article about his ideas on faith and politics. If you read the article, read with care and I'd suggest checking out Greg's book and sermons themselves rather than taking what's being written about them, at face value.

Kristen and I came to this resturant, Momo, three nights in a row! With this kind of view, you can see why. 

A 9th century bridge in Galicia, on our bus tour of the coast. 

At Cabo Finisterre at the Costa Da Morte. This is the westernmost point of Europe (though I think maybe I heard there's a part of Portugal that's further).  

What else can you say? Yes, they have sardines! 

This was, honestly, my favorite day of the trip. I got to swim laps in this beautiful pool, under the bright Spanish sun and dry air. We read books, catnapped, got some color, read some more... beautiful! 

Kristen, looking a little sleepy, seeing me off at the Santiago train station. 

Because I sincerely do love traveling by train, I decided to go from Santiago to Paris that way, despite the fact that it took 22 hours and two connections. I love watching the land slide by so smoothly, and I don't get nauseous on trains like I do on buses! This is in the greener, "Celtic" part of Northern Spain. 

Sainte Chapelle - the one site in Paris I didn't make to on my study abroad trip in 1997, which I really had wanted to see for years. It was our first stop after Annie met me at the train station. Okay, our second, after coffees and croissants.

A major treat of that first day in Paris was a visit to Shakespeare and Co, the legendary English bookshop. I found some deals in the 2 euro bin and a book of Estonian short stories by a writer named Jaan Kross, which I picked up in anticipation of our upcoming jaunt to Tallinn. 

This was my favorite thing in any cathedral I visited in both Spain and France. The church had put together a series of banners with photos and simple statements about Jesus and Christianity. This is the last one, which says (roughly, I haven't studied French) - "and you, how do you respond to His love." It was refreshing to me to see an attempt at a gospel presentation beside all the Joan of Arc mythologizing and finery. I did, though, attempt a poem about her, given the fact that she's an inescapable figure in a visit to Orleans.

In my eagerness to see more of France than the Paris sights I visited in 1997, we drove to Orleans, where we both agreed the cathedral is much prettier than Notre Dame (though not as nice as Sainte-Chapelle). 

Walking in Annie's town of Corbeil-Essones, we found this sign. Any ideas what "semi liberty" might entail? 

Little else says Paris but fancy, pretentious, overpriced, delicious and divine pastries! These are at LaDuree, where we bought mini-macaroons.

Yes, Annie is a road warrior! We drove through the Etoile (the traffic circle at the Arc de Triumph where 12 different roads converge) at rush hour! 

Here's me in the navigator's seat, cursing at French mapmakers and its lack of signs. Don't even get me started... we probably spent more time peering over badly marked street maps and unmarked roads in France than I ever have in any part of Eastern Europe! 

Between our time in France and the week in the Baltics, Annie and I had a LOVELY 12 hours in Nykoping, Sweden. (Here's the view from our hotel). She has blogged about exactly why we loved Sweden. The best I can explain is that, despite arriving on a 11:30 p.m. flight and waiting a long time in the dark for a taxi, not having a hotel reservation, I never ONCE felt uneasy. How can you feel scared in Wisconsin? :)

Annie and I at Kurpai Jazz Club in Klaipeda for my roommate Sarah's birthday.

I drug Annie around all the great Klaipeda area attractions - the beach, the 12th floor of the hotel, Eldorado pizza, the movie theater, LCC, Girulai bike trails, and of course, a day to Nida and Juodkrante. There, everyone's patience was tested by my eagerness to read aloud from the book on Lithuanian folklore describing the wood carvings on Witches Hill in Juodkrante!

Playing chess isn't a bad way to pass an afternoon at Cafe Matilda.

Look how beautiful Tallinn, Estonia is when its NOT covered in snow, like it was in April when I was last here! Okay, so it was beautiful in the snow too...