Today marks the fifth anniversary of an event that made our divergence from God's wishes was so undeniable. September 11 was a day when we witnessed the deaths of thousands, and reconsidered our world view. The mass destruction of life was followed by a beautiful exhibition of human kindness and compassion, but also resulted in further deaths, expressions of hatred, and at times hopelessness. I'm always struck by how humans and life are simultaneously the most ugly and beautiful things of all. Our capacity for love is so incredibly wonderful, while our tendency towards selfishness and ignorance is quite sickening at times. Everyone remembers how they learned about the events of 9/11, and how they reacted to them; that's just how impactful they were. Jess and I watched the images on CNN while we listened to choked voices on CBC as everyone came to grips with whatever was going on. We watched in class at school, and I watched friends tear up and feel a little bit less safe and invincible. My favourite teacher ever, Mr. Wallace, discussed with our class the ramifications of such an event. He speculated that Americans would respond perhaps melodramatically to the attacks, and the cause of the attacks would be misconstrued. We gasped as we saw people flinging themselves out of windows in unimaginable desperation, and observed people coming together in the face of extreme difficulty. The contrasts between the juxtaposed good and evil in the situation were so easy to make, and I experienced such a tumultuous mix of emotions on that day.
I felt so grateful to live in Canada, a nation where we rarely feel driven to act out of frustration in violence, and where we weren't vulnerable to attack because of our antagonistic foreign policy. I knew I was blessed to live on a continent where 2,996 deaths was shocking and horrific; in a continent like Africa, 3,000 children die every day just because of malaria. I thanked God for the fact that He loved each one of the victims of the attacks, and each one of the terrorists, and that I didn't need to feel spiteful towards either of these groups. This morning, I was watching CBC's coverage of Condoleezza Rice's visit to Gander, and was so heartened to hear the stories of those who took refuge in Canadians' homes after their planes were grounded; the generosity and warmth of Atlantic Canadians happifies me immensely. However, through the wonders of CBC television, my parents and I also watched a couple of specials relevant to this week's remembrance, and the benightedness and astuciousness with which the attacks were dealt with continues to appall me. I remain shocked by the audacity of Cheney and Bush in conversations they had with Richard Clarke, suggesting to him that they attack Iraq in responce to 9/11 simply because "it had more targets" than Afghanistan. Ultimately, the Bush team was forced to enact an "Afghanistan First" plan, waiting for a time when they'd be able to invade the more appealing scapegoat of Iraq.
For obvious reasons, I am disturbed by the 46,150 that have died thus far in a war that was ostensibly conducted because of Hussein's possession of numerous WMDs. 46,150 is a lot more than 2996, and it's a lot more than the number of innocents that Hussein would have killed. But what really gets me as we mark this moment in history today is the fact that September 11 was exploited as a rationalization to go to war when it's mainly a huge tragedy. When Nicole and I visited Ground Zero this summer, I found the manipulation game going on in front of the wreckage just as saddening as the sparse remains of the World Trade Centre itself. There were conspiracy theorists, politicians, photo-happy tourists, and proselytizing Christians all capitalizing on the fear, vulnerability, and awe generated by this site. Rather than contemplating what they were witnessing, these people were using the carcass of a misfortune to advance their own agendas. It reminded me of the soldiers casting lots for Jesus' clothing, and made me think of how we continue to exploit even in this time of prosperity and enlightenment. Corporations use defenceless workers in sweatshops and kill those who want to form unions. Parents place duct tape over their childrens' mouths to exemplify their beliefs. Countries recruit moneyless, ill-educated citizens to do their dirty work in other continents (I'll avoid referencing scenes from Michael Moore films). I pray, and hope, and strive for a world where we won't need to push our own agendas, a world where the helpless will be helped rather than used. In my cheesy idyllic world that probably sounds like its out of a beauty pageant contestant's answer to the interview segment following the swimsuit runway, we wouldn't need, or want, to go to war, and any differences we had would be resolved peacefully. Individuals wouldn't see an opportunity in others' pain, but would instead empathize and understand that pain themselves.
I realize that I am "using" this anniversary of September 11 to ponder my political and spiritual beliefs as they pertain to this event, but I find that it's nearly impossible not to. I feel quite strongly that one of the saddest things about 9/11 is that we commemorate it so willingly, and yet we so willingly ignore greater hardships that go on each and every day on this planet of ours. Life sucks, and not just a bit or just some of the time. Life sucks a lot. I don't really feel like skirting around this issue; life sucks because we suck. God loves us so dearly, but we messed things up big time, and we can't live as God intended us to live until we've passed from this place, and it's hard to be OK with that. It's awfully tempting to deny the suffering that surrounds us, and that we ourselves face, but it's a fact of life that can allow us to lean on God in dependency. God's the only real hope for us; if there were true, lasting hope in democracy, capitalism, communism, war, technology, or the accumulation of knowledge, things would be much different. I'm pretty certain that this blog entry has devolved to a completely juvenile and meanigless level, so I'll leave it at that for my after-school thoughts on this anniversary. When I think about most things for a long period of time, I usually end up coming to the conclusion that people are rather abominable and awful, and that God is transcendentally wise and good, which is ultimately true but also pretty simplistic. I'm sure I'll think of more things to discuss after watching a few more CBC documentaries, but I'll talk about those with God or my family perhaps and not subject blog readers to any more nonsense.
As for slightly less depressing things in my life, I'm back at the books and quite delighted with this semester so far. My courses are decent, campus remains as strange and fun as ever, and Rutherford continues to be the source of many discoveries and time-wasters. As I was walking home with a bunch of heavy-ish textbooks last week, I considered how light the summer months are, not in a Newtonian gravitational sense of course. Those fluffy white seeds floated past my head, sunlight weaved through swaying branches above me, and I wore only a t-shirt, some jeans, and sandals. Everything can be completed with such ease in the summer; I can easily walk anywhere I need to go (unless it's my grandparents' houses) without swathing myself in layers of winter clothing, and the lack of forced reading allows me to ponder and peruse whatever I fancy. I listen to songs about cocoons and ocean waves, and imagine flying through clouds and having Rapunzel-length hair. My greatest concerns over the summer months were whether or not I would able to board a plane on my own and if I should go to a Jason Collett or James Keelaghan concert. I watched a few completely infantile films, read inane novels, and acted like a lunatic a great deal of the time, which made for lots of fun times and good memories. However, fall brings with it a weight that I hope to savour just as much as I enjoy the laid back moments of summer. Learning, while stressful at times, is tremendously rewarding, and makes me feel nurtured and satisfied in some strange academic way. I love, love, love crunching fallen leaves on walks around the neighbourhood, and there's nothing quite as fun as jumping into piles of leaves or dressing up at Halloween (that kind of rhymed, just so you know). Courses bring along assignments and midterms, but knowing a bit more about God and His creation makes me feel a smidge closer to Him, and as though I have a slightly more intimate relationship with the things and people around me. Now that my family's all home from vacations, missions, etcetera, and we're more or less in our school year rhythm, which is comforting in a familiar kind of way. I was listening to The Byrds' take on the Scripture passage about seasons (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8), and it just rings so true at this time of year when there are so many transitions and new experiences/people to be welcomed. Life is not static, and its dynamic nature is to be embraced. If summer lasted another couple of months, I might get bored of lazing around, and if school lasted another couple of months, I might die. Change, I must admit, is good. It pushes me to mature, and challenges me to discard pieces of myself that aren't glorifying to God. I'm just glad I have some cool people around me to talk through, enjoy, and make the most of the ebbing and flowing journey that we're all on. Thanks guys.
Reasons Why I Don't Need to Date and I Shouldn't Be "Set-Up" with Boys
- I am extremely, super, enormously happy and content and satisfied
- my life is quite rich and blessed as it is (thanks God)
- Albertan Christian boys are generally very different from me and like very different things
- I don't feel lonely (at all)
- my relationship with God is waaaaay more important than a relationship with a boy (infinitely so)
- I love a lot of things/people, and I'm not ready to sacrifice my enjoyment of them for another person
- it's true that there are a lot of incredibly smart, well-tasted, tight-pants wearing boys, but they're pretty much all non-Christians
- I don't hear God calling me to go out and date someone right now
- relationships apparently take things called time and energy
- I am extremely, super, enormously happy and content and satisfied
Artists I've Enjoyed Recently
- Red House Painters
- Tiger Saw
- Jeff Hanson
- Kevin Devine
- East River Pipe
- Bishop Allen
- Morning Recordings
- Six Organs of Admittance
- The Devil Makes Three
- Kelley Stoltz
Things I'll Miss About Summer
- eating ice cream outside
- river valley sunrise walks
- New York
- napping on the lawn
- not sleeping ever ever ever
- festivals and football
- a complete lack of stress
- winning races in City Hall pools
- being a full-time gangsta (it's just PT now, sadly)
- realizing that I don't like hipsters very much at all
- watching a zillion movies
- accidentally stealing Crystal's things
- plotting pranks but never enacting them
- riding the LRT
- airplane stewardesses
- wearing PJs outside
- eating brownies for supper
- using Darwin until he ran out of batteries
- lazing around and having fun while doing nothing
- good talks with friends and family (hopefully these will continue!)
Turn! Turn! Turn!
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time for peace, I swear its not too late
P.S. The last picture is of this really neat insect I discovered while walking back from school last week. It looks like a dull-coloured grasshopper while sitting around, but when it flies it turns into what looks exactly like a black butterfly with gorgeous white stripes. It just made me think of our capacity to change, and to be both beautiful and ugly at the same time (note blog title...). It also challenged me to look for the good when I see ugly, because there's always some good in everyone, even the terrorists who took down the World Trade Centre. I had to run around trying to get the insect to stay still to get the photo, and unfortunately no matter how many times I scared it into flying around, I couldn't get a good picture of how it looked in flight. I'll leave it to your imagination to see how lovely it looked.
Conversely, when I feel down for the most petty of reasons, whether it be how someone hurt my feelings at church, or that I feel Wal-Mart epitomizes the sinful and depressing nature of man, He wants to be the one that I take these struggles to. It's still vital to have a community to talk these things through with, to glean wisdom from the journey of another, and to relate to their circumstances, but I can breathe easily when I recognize that no matter how frivolous, severe, or incomprehensible my thoughts may be, God will devotedly be there to care about what's coursing through my tiny little synapses. He may not, and much of the time will not, agree with me. This is because a great deal of what I think and feel is complete bunk and garbage. Thankfully, though, He's willing, and wanting, to take in all my thoughts. He'll listen without being an opportunist about taking the chance to reprimand or refute me (I"ll save the need for us to listen for and to God for another blog entry...). He does not listen because He wishes for someone to make Him feel needed, but because He has a deep-seated interest in the words themselves. I feel that I'm not articulating this properly, but it's rather late, and I feel like reading and blabbering to God, so I think I'll wrap this up. My challenge is to see the joy in having someone who, no matter the time, the place, the subject, wants me to talk to them. He never tires of hearing my story, of my weariness, or of my pleasure in absurd things. He designed us to come to Him with and for everything, and He misses it when we neglect to take our burden to Him. In truth though, we miss out even more when we fail to share our hearts with the Great Listener.
