I volunteer at CARE Packaging. It’s not easy for me. I am typically overwhelmed at the end of my few hours of volunteering. But I love doing it. I look forward to working again. It will be tremendous. I am ecstatic that I might have the capacity to do it.

In the meantime as I ponder these things, God seems to be confirming my hopes. He even seems to be telling me that I will teach physics some day. He seems to be saying that He has good purposes in all of my endeavors to work.

In spite of all of that, I have self-doubt. I find myself thinking about Martha and Mary. My fear is that I will turn into a Martha. I am enough like Martha already – it’s hard for me to stop doing and just be. Will I be able to work like Martha and yet also to listen like Mary? Will the Martha in me be able to stop when God wants her attention? Will my mind be capable of slowing down and being still before God?

2 Samuel 22:37 says: “You lengthen the steps I can take, yet my ankles do not turn.” I am believing that God will enable me to work. I am expecting that He will have a niche for me in the workforce which will accommodate any limitations I may still have. But will He enable my mind to glorify Him and cling to Him? Will I turn into a Martha?

I think it may be a fight for me. As I write that, I wonder why God would ever want me to have to fight to stop to be with Him. He seems to have put me into a position where I have to fight, at this point. His purposes don’t seem to be served by me having the easy way right now…

As I said, I think that He wants me to end up teaching. I don’t know why He would privilege me with that role. It is exciting to me. But will I still be teachable? Will I work in an unspiritual way? My mind is so limited right now! Will I lose touch with God while I engage in tasks and projects?

Ah, the self-doubts, the worries I have about whether God will preserve and nurture my relationship with Him! My faith tells me that God will work all of this out so that it is possible for me to please Him. He will create something good. I must repeat that to myself. He has emphasized it to me. Somehow I need to trust Him.

It doesn’t always feel good to be a believer. It’s not always warm and fuzzy. We don’t always feel connected to God. Sometimes life feels mechanical. I often feel mechanical.  

Why would God make me this way? Why would he let me be this way? I have some capabilities which please Him, I think – like my analytical skills – even though my strengths can be my weaknesses. Yes, I fight to not be mechanical. But my mind can glorify God when it works the way He designed it to work.

I am tired now. I often get very tired lately. Volunteering can be draining. But God will lengthen the steps I can take. I hope and I pray for a life that pleases my God.

My definition of hope is: the possibility for something new and better. We have the hope of heaven, when all things will be made new and, of course, better. We also have hope on earth: according to Psalm 27:13, “I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” That’s what I want to write about: our hope on earth.

There is proof from nature (God’s creation) that we have hope on earth. God’s creation speaks of His character and His will. There was, of course, hope in the World before the fall: God blessed His creation and said, “’Be fruitful and increase in number…’” (Genesis 1:22) There is also hope in the world after the fall: according to scientific evidence, our planet fosters life wherever it can, as fast as it can. That hasn’t changed in spite of the introduction of death. God hasn’t changed His mind about wanting life to increase. The laws of physics/biology are somehow oriented towards life on earth (contrary to popular scientific thought/myth).

I defined hope as being the possibility for new and better things. A life-oriented planet presents the possibility for new life. New life is always better. “God saw that it was good.” (Genesis 1:25) God demonstrates in His creation that He still desires life to increase and hope to abound. If that’s God’s heart – if His heart is always towards an increase in life and hope – then it must be true in our lives and experiences as well. God wouldn’t bless His physical creation and not us! He must be increasing our life (and hope) more and more, in spite of death and sin. He loves us more than He loves His creation. “’Look at the birds of the air… Are you not much more valuable than they?’” (Matthew 6:26) We are His children and He promises to give us good things, and He declared life to be good. “’Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!’” (Matthew 7:9-11)

What do I mean by “life” when I’m talking about us? I’m not talking about our physical life so much as our spiritual, mental and emotional life. Our relationship with God prospers more and more over time: “Your eyes will see the King in His beauty and view a land that stretches afar.” (Isaiah 33:17) Our thought life (our mind) prospers more and more: “’The Holy Spirit will guide you into all truth.’” (John 16:13)  Our emotional life is blessed more and more over time: “He lifted me out of the pit, out of the mud and mire.” (Psalm 40:2) “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters… He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me.” (Psalm 18: 16, 19)

We use the words “life-giving” here at CARE. We have learned that we can increase one another’s “life” and that God can increase ours. We have learned that our brains are made such that our joy can increase over time. There is always hope! “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.’” (Jeremiah 29:11)

I want to repeat the essence of my argument: In six days God created the universe, but it changes and is always new. “’See, the former things have taken place, and new things I declare…’” (Isaiah 42:9) Not only that, but He exerts a force for life and for better things. “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” (Romans 8:28)

HOPE = new + better.

Here’s another illustration, though it’s a bit of a stretch. Gravity draws things toward the sun, which emits light. Light is equated with life: “In Him was life, and that life was the light of men.” (John 1:4) Therefore we are drawn towards life.

God is not a God of ruts or pits. Even if we’re on a meandering path, we will still inevitably move toward life. We have a Son-centered universe: “…whoever lives by the truth comes into the light.” (John 3:21) When you think that your options are decreasing, the truth is that your life is increasing, your possibilities are increasing, your hope is increasing, and you always have the choice for more life! Even though there is death (our wrong choices), God creates life out of death.

Ephesians 3:20 states that God is “able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine,” which means that we can never be sure that we have imagined everything that God could possibly do next in our lives. That truth is evident in His Creation, too. We have a hope-filled universe!

“Send forth Your light and Your truth, let them guide me; let them bring me to Your holy mountain, to the place where You dwell. Then will I go to the altar of God, to God, my joy and my delight. I will praise You with the harp, O God, my God.

“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm 43: 3-5)

This mathematical theory says (essentially) that in the beginning, God was balancing the universe like a pencil on its tip. At that instant, there were no atoms, nothing had any form, and everything was void.

Then God breathed, and the pencil of the universe started to tip over.

God had made a bunch of types of particles, according to this theory – potential bits of atoms, for instance – one of which was very different from all of the rest. Physicists like to call that kind of particle the “God particle”. As the Lord let the universe tip over, the existence of the God particle caused all of the other particles to become the way they are now. Most of the particles took on form and became atoms (and the rest of the physical universe). Others were what we call light. 

For every particle, God seems to have made the potential for an opposing particle, one with equal but opposite qualities. The two opposing sets of particles are called matter and anti-matter. One thing scientists are trying to explain is why there is more matter in the universe than anti-matter. In order to account for that difference, the universe must be imbalanced, like that pencil I mentioned. Also, the matter in the universe must disintegrate over time, which means that our universe cannot (mathematically) be eternal. Cool, huh?

As for the God particles, physicists haven’t seen any of them yet. They have to be there, according to this theory. If we could build a detector with just the right technology, then perhaps we would see a God particle.

It’s intriguing that God might have made one kind of particle without which nothing would have any substance. It’s also intriguing that He would have made that particle invisible to us. No wonder it’s called the God particle! Everything hinges on its existence.

When God created life on earth, He created what scientists call a biosphere. The outermost layer of the earth, along with the surface and the atmosphere, form a sphere filled with organic things like people and trees and chipmunks. That biosphere is completely contained by what we regular people call outer space.

The idea proposed in the book that I read was that our biosphere is always becoming something new and that it is becoming increasingly unique over time. More specifically, the proposal is that the diversity of things that can happen next increases, on average, as fast as it can. One can illustrate it this way: when you are blowing up a balloon, the next moment always holds the possibility for the balloon to become more than it could have become the previous moment. One might say that God is blowing up a balloon as fast as He can!

We know that God is creative. We know that He created the universe in six days. But He didn’t create a universe which stays the same over time. In particular, He seems to have created a biosphere for living things which, over time, has more possibilities for what it can become. Our biosphere contains a sort of explosion of life.

What does this describe about God’s creativity? Just this: His creativity is expressed in His Creation as greatly, or more greatly, than we can imagine. In personal terms: We can never be sure that we have imagined everything that God could possibly do next in our lives.

Ephesians 3:20 says that God is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine. Well, that truth is evident in His Creation, too, and scientists may one day prove it!

We have seen that there are some younger neutrinos in the core of the sun. Also, some young ones were sent to earth when a far away star exploded 200,000 years ago. We’ve seen neutrinos, just not the oldest ones.

Neutrinos initially (during the first two seconds of the history of the universe) were captured and bound up with other particles. Then, the universe cooled enough that neutrinos were released from their bonds. They are, essentially, by-products of the creation of everying else, including you and me.

The experiments which scientists would have to do in order to see these oldest neutrinos  - this specific photo of Creation - are unimaginably difficult. If we had the right technology and the necessary amount of space, time, energy and money, we might be able to see one, eventually. Humans can, hypothetically, see back to the first moments in the history of the universe!

Isn’t that cool?

We can see far back in time when we look through the biggest telecopes to see stars and other light-giving objects created early in the universe. But the oldest neutrinos are everywhere, 200 of them for every cubic centimeter of space. I like that, because it means that evidence of the first moments of Creation is literally everywhere.

The typical Christian thinks of Creation as having happened in the far distant past, something which can no longer by seen by short-lived beings like humans. But that’s just not true!

Isn’t that cool?

 This will be a strange blog entry. Hopefully someone will enjoy it.

God has shown me that I have approximate rotational symmetry. And so do you.

 To have perfect rotational symmetry, an object must look exactly the same even if you rotate (turn) it. Snowflakes are like that; triangles; stars of David. They look exactly the same if you rotate them by certain amounts.

 An example of approximate rotational symmetry would be a chrysanthemum. If you turn it a bit, it doesn’t look exactly the same as it did before. The petals are not arranged at regular intervals and are not all the same length.   

If you look at a chrysanthemum and focus solely on a malformed petal, it won’t look as beautiful to you as if you looked at it with a wider focus or from a bit further away. In the same vein, when I obsess on the details of what I’ve done and try to figure out if I did any tiny thing wrong, I’m going to miss out on some beauty. There is no beauty in the obsessively extracted details of things that I’ve done wrong.

 So, being created with (and intended to have) approximate rotational symmetry means that my performance need not be perfect; a chrysanthemum is beautiful even if it doesn’t have perfectly formed petals and a perfectly round bloom. I am beautiful even though I don’t do everything right.

 My performance need not be perfectly orderly, either. My petals don’t have to line up at certain specific angles. God made me to follow a more organic process when it comes to accomplishing things.

 Just as importantly, my growth as a Christian, and as a human being with free will, need not be linear or in perfectly formed steps at certain rigid intervals. God made us to grow like chrysanthemums, not like triangles or snowflakes (even though they’re pretty). Our growth – and our performance – can look a bit messy, and that’s alright.

 There is some order to the arrangement of the petals in a chrysanthemum. It has an overall order. When you look at it as a whole, it is almost round; it looks almost the same no matter which way you turn it – and that’s beautiful. But it is also interesting and enthralling in its “imperfection”, its lack of perfect order.

 Overall, judging by my actions – looking at my true, God-given heart – I am loving (for instance). I am a chrysanthemum who is almost round.

 Also, my stage of growth has beauty even if I’m not fully formed.

 I’m almost certain that no two chrysanthemums are exactly the same. Contrary to popular myth that  no two snowflakes are the same, some of the snowflakes you observe in a snowfall actually are exactly the same. I, on the other hand,  have a unique beauty because my details are unique and I form a unique bloom.

I wrote that growth need not be orderly. Even if I have a petal that grows abnormally, there is still hope for a rounded bloom. There’s always hope with God. In the meantime, the petal itself has value to the bloom.

Even if my bloom develops in an unbalanced way – one side is larger or more healthy than the other – there is still hope for symmetry and balance. There is still hope for a rounded bloom.

Even if one petal is ill, malnourished, deformed or dying, that petal (that part of me) is valuable, pitiable and worthy of compassion, in God’s eyes. Furthermore, there is hope that either a healthier petal will take its place or that the bloom will overtake and overshadow that defect or malnourishment. In DID terms, a healthy Christian host can integrate with a malformed part and overshadow it. Also, a wounded part can accept the Lord and transform to have a valuable place in the Christian host system.

 I want to apply these principles to a specific ill and malformed part in me. She is accepted by God even though she has grown abnormally. Is she responsible for her own illness? In the case of the part in me to which I am referring, yes: she is responsible for some of her illness. That’s because she spends much of her time examining the details of the things she’s done, fearing that one of them might have caused someone to love her less. However, that part in me is not responsible for being malnourished, malformed, deformed or dying.

 Actually, she is in some ways beautiful. She formed amidst distress and trouble. The adaptations God made were, and are, beautiful. God used that part for the sake of the whole person.

God is in charge of growth and functioning. Who are we to judge ourselves?

The smallest of all small things doesn’t exist except as an idea. “Virtual particles” are such things, or any idea of mankind.

The next biggest thing is called a photon, which is a particle of light. It exists only in that it leaves a trail behind it – similar to how a plane leaves a trail of exhaust or a pen leaves a blot of ink – but a bright one instead, like a tiny, tiny star. The next biggest thing is a particle of matter. Those combine to form atoms, molecules, etc.

Finally, God’s ideas are the largest of all things.

Why are the smallest things important? They can’t be found or held; they don’t enlighten anything or anybody; they have no lasting impact. God’s ideas, on the other hand, are evident everywhere and shaped the universe and all matter. But God cares about the smallest things; He cares what we are thinking. God wants us to have big thoughts – His thoughts. In giving us the mind of Christ, God has placed within us a form of vastness beyond the extent of the universe. To those who know Him, God has imparted the largest of all things.

Matter itself is by en large emptiness; some atoms have less density than our solar system. And yet God ideated and created matter; in a way, God created shapes, not solidity. In the same way, God created and cares more about our shape (our character) than our size or solidity (our knowledge or wisdom). He also seems to care more about the shape of the universe than its size. If He had cared about its size, He would have made it infinitely big. He created a shape with shapes in it, versus any thing or person deserving of self-pride.

Why does this matter to me right now? Because I feel especially small. I have been looking at myself as an idea shaped (in part) by my ideas. My true shape is an idea of God. I am a collision of the smallest of things with the largest of things. Generally, when a large thing impacts a small thing, the small thing is either incorporated into the large thing or is broken into even smaller things, sometimes into photons. God breaks down my ideas until they are more and more futile. If He destroys my ideas, then there is light.

It is good to seek the destruction of my fleshly ideas. The best way to do that is to bounce them off of God’s ideas, God’s words. If I do that mercilously (to my mind) enough, then only truth (light) will remain. I mustn’t hold onto my ideas. I must cast them upon God’s creation. Then, they will become one with His creation.

 I saw gang symbols painted in out-of-the way places. I saw useless metal fences topped with spirals of barbed wire hanging carelessly, failing to protect their abandoned treasures. I saw trees somehow alive and still clinging to tiny rectangles of precious grass, like flowers unexpectedly watered within this man-made countryside of concrete, pavement, brick and plaster.

 Later, I was with a friend who had written a tune for which she had no lyrics. I thought of some lyrics based upon the day’s journey. I want to preface my “song” with the explanation that I have a personality which seeks solitude and is fascinated with abandoned places. In this rap I am trying to express that God is different: He is far more interested in being with human beings than in where they have once been.

 Here’s my song:

 Space is where I want to be,  up on top of buildings, seeing landscapes left by rough hands -  lunchbox litter yawning widely, singing on behalf of owners, “I won’t be here any more.”

 Symbols tell of past adventures, speak of brazen anger. Spirals set on barbed wire fences warn of old defenses.

 Can God be found on such abandoned lofty ground, singing,

“Space is where I Am can be, sighing over buildings, whispering to trees enclosed by concrete, ‘I placed comfort in your shade’”?

 Can God be found on such sad warlike battlegrounds, singing,

 “Souls are where I want to be, to follow rough men to the weathered Tree so carved by barbs of anger just to see that fences aren’t enough to keep out Love, Who’s found in shadows underneath those outstretched branches”?

Yes, God can be found in such forgotten lonely places, singing.

I do not breathe air but sip streams of ink, contours of couches and, lightly, the arc of an eyelash. How substance could be at once empty and bursting, silence both leaden and vapor, I don’t know, but somehow, I think, it is thought that I have a fingerprint. It’s only a spiral to me.

Comes a day I will follow it, find the hand God made and touch the ones He meant. There will come a day of significance.

For now I can only map travels I haven’t yet made. If drawn well enough it may seem that I truly have been there.

how does one write about silence?

silence of the heart can be a sad thing.

i am sure that there is a silence that is pleasing to God: the silence of a tall tree, the silence of a hand…

i have way too many words in me. sometimes that’s terribly painful. so, after a silent day, i thought that i’d write a little. i think i’ll write about silence.

i had been still and quiet for several hours today when God said, “Listen to this song.” i thought about the song that He suggested. i sang it in my mind. i told Him that i didn’t want to listen to it because i didn’t understand it, so what could it do for me? what could it do for Him? what could it mean?

after another half hour of silence, i stood up heavily and walked to my car to get the CD and then downstairs to get my CD player. slogging back to the chair facing out the upstairs living room window, i sat down heavily again and, after a long sigh, turned on the song. i listened to it for a few moments and then turned it off. what was the point?

i had been in prayer all day, asking God about my life and my future – how He wanted to use me, how He wanted me to be, where He wanted me. all that i had heard from Him in the midst of our hours-long conversation was two words, “Silence “and “Stillness.” i asked Him a lot about silence and He didn’t answer my questions. then, He wanted me to listen to a song that i couldn’t comprehend.

sometimes i feel entrapped in silence. i have so many words to say and so little time to either speak or be comprehended. God must feel that way, too.

i gave Him a day for speaking to me. He said two words and i spent most of the rest of the day asking Him, “what did You mean?”

God has literally countless words to say. i give Him little bits of time which i set aside for hearing Him. today, all He said was two words and i was already confounded. He must feel extremely sad!

one of the most painful things we can go through is silence from God. lately, i have realized that God has been teaching me the Pain of Silence. He has caused me to meet with the silence of others when my heart has longed to hear a word, and He has placed me in situations where i have fountains of words to say and no one to listen to and understand them.

what is the point of the Pain of Silence?

it’s not that God hasn’t been talking to me these days. He hasn’t been silent: He’s caused me to encounter a silent world. and it hurts.

so, Lord, why are You doing this? what are You saying?

the song that God had me listen to today says, “open to me the gates of righteousness and i will go through them.” what gates have i gone through today? have i gone through any?

Yeshua was silent before His accusers. He held His tongue a lot amidst His twelve disciples. His Father was silent towards Him for several hours in a time of great need. Yeshua knew the Pain of Silence very, very well.

while i was listening to the song, God finally answered one of my much-repeated questions of the day, “how, when and where do You want to use me?” His answer was, ”Where, when and how I want to use you! I must be doing it.” He wasn’t about to give me a game plan. He was insisting that i wait for Him to use me rather than following some plan that seemed to fit His uses for me. 

i am tired. that’s what i get for trying to comprehend things beyond my understanding! that’s what i get for having my own agenda! i am tired!

what does that song mean, “open to me the gates of righteousness”? what the heck does that really mean? (am i supposed to know right now??) i haven’t a clue. yeah, i could research it in the Bible and look it up in commentaries ask people wiser than me; i’d prefer to hear about it straight from God, while i’m listening to Him, right now. but what He says when i ask Him is that He has a plan for using me and that He won’t tell me His plan just yet, not even one tiny bit of it.

so, God, what are You saying to me? what are the “gates of righteousness”? can i really go through them of my own accord?

i think back on Psalm 118, “Open for me the gates of righteousness; I will enter and give thanks to the Lord. This is the gate of the Lord through which the righteous may enter. I will give You thanks, for You answered me; You have become my salvation.” if He hadn’t saved me, i couldn’t enter those gates, whatever they truly represent.

so, Lord, what are You saying to me?

perhaps following God isn’t a matter of doing. perhaps it’s something to be entered.

what does this have to do with silence? i keep trying and trying and trying to exit silence. that may be alright: people were created with the deep desire to be seen and understood. i was created with a deep desire to see and to understand others. so how do i live with this thing called Silence, as painfully heavy as it is to me? will there ever be a time in my life that won’t feel intolerably Silent? do i need to learn to continuously bear the Pain of Silence? will it be a heavy burden to me until i die?

i don’t know the answer to those questions. maybe it’s not time for me to ask them.

people are talking in the next room. the house is no longer quiet. regardless of the words that are being spoken or not being spoken, people i live with are not utterly silent, and i am not utterly silent to them. i should give thanks for a world without utter silence and for a God Who is not utterly silent even though i can’t understand Him.

that’s the Pain of Silence: it’s not understanding God.

thank You, Lord, that one day I will truly hear You and comprehend all that You say!

i am sad for You that i hear you so little now and that i understand so little of what You say and think and feel! i don’t even understand what You’re doing! i don’t understand what You will do!

take me through the gates of righteousness!