Gargling, Grace, and Glaciers

GARGLING
I wish I could gargle my mind sometimes. Or my life. You know, swish everything around and spit out the crud that causes bad thoughts and deeds.

GRACE
Last night we began our study of Philip Yancey's "What's So Amazing About Grace"... and I was less than gracious. I have been in this stinking bad mood for over a week (another result of my lack of grace), And I was in a mood when the class started. But it got better... until we started discussing an example in the lesson of a woman who was seeking help. She'd been renting her infant daughter for sex so she could buy drugs. And she was asked if she'd ever thought about going to a church for help, and she says, "Church! Why would I ever go there? I already feel terrible about myself. They'd just make me feel worse." I thought, "how true." And sure enough, as we started discussing the situation, I was amazed at how quickly everyone started coming up with reasons why we SHOULDN'T extend grace to this woman. And I kinda got a little "passionate." I hate it when I do the very thing I don't want to do. I'm trying to talk about grace and I end up getting upset. :(

I recently took an online assessment of my personality and one thing it said was that I tend to want to make statements but don't like to have to explain myself or where I'm coming from. And that's very true. It's difficult for me to back up; to 'set the stage' so-to-speak. And that frustrates me. At any rate, I need to apologize to everyone from the class. I'm afraid none of them will come back to be beat over the head with grace anymore.

GLACIERS
This morning I read through my usual blogs, and Jordon Cooper had this nice post about this fantastic article from Eugene Peterson. I highly recommend reading the article (it's kind of long though). In it he talks about a guy named Rick Bass and how he uses the metaphor of a glacier when he is confronted with a difficult or complex task. I will just include the portion from the article:

Bass wrote an essay recently that I consider required reading for anyone who cares about the contemplative life, immersed as we are in this impatient, shortcut addictive culture. He writes that when confronted with a complex and difficult task, he used to imagine himself laying down one brick after another, brick by brick by brick, to eventually accomplish his aims. But he's recently changed his metaphor from bricks to glaciers. A glacier is the most powerful force the world has ever seen. Literally nothing can stop a glacier.

A glacier is formed by the falling of snow that collects over a period of time. As the snow deepens, the weight compresses, ice forms, then more snow, then more ice, year after year— and nothing happens. Nothing happens until that glacier is 64-feet thick. Then it starts to move and nothing can stop it.

Bass notes that one theory about the origin of glaciers is that they are "the result of a wobble, a hitch, in the earth's rotation. . . . Glaciers get built or not built, simply, miraculously, because the earth is canting a single one-trillionth of a degree in this direction for a long period of time, rather than in that direction." And then this comment: "When I am alone in the woods, and the struggle seems insignificant or futile, or when I am in a public meeting and am being kicked all over the place, I tell myself that little things matter—and I believe that they do. I believe that even if your heart leans just a few degrees to the left or the right of center, that with enough resolve, which can substitute for mass, and enough time, a wobble will one day begin, and the ice will begin to form, where for a long time previous there might have been none. Keep it up for a lifetime or two or three, and then one day—it must—the ice will begin to slide" (The Roadless Yak, Lyons Press).

Yep, gargling, grace, and glaciers... I need all three.

Peace, my friends. Revolution(ate).