An Ode to That Which Is Beyond Me
One of the things that many people don't know about me is that I minored in Mathematics in college. In fact, I'm probably still certified to teach math in the state of Arkansas, in case you needed something to keep you terrified at night. (At least if you live in Arkansas. And have children. And want those children to actually learn math.)
Because I took dual-credit Calculus in high school, I actually didn't have that many math classes at Harding (another thing to terrify the math-honoring soul). I can honestly only remember taking four courses... but of those, I learned certain lessons that have stayed with me - not because I actually use my mathematics training (I most definitely do not) but because (shock of the world) the fundamental principles of math dwell in quiet repose beneath most of what goes on in this complex but ordered Creation.
In Advanced Geometry (my least favorite class with my least favorite professor), I was taken by surprise one day when my professor abandoned his typical somniferous lecture for a detour into the relatively young field of fractals and chaos theory. Vague recollections of Jurassic Park ran through my mind as I studied the colorful, computer-generated swirls of pattern without end, and as I considered this paradox of Biblical proportions: that apparent chaos is in fact deeply defined order.
[Math lovers, if you are still with me, forgive my simplification of this. And also forgive me for having attempted to teach a whole unit on Chaos Theory to the senior math class during student teaching. Bless.]
At times, God seems to speak so loudly to me that my ears hurt. My personal Bible study, a women's conference, a lunch conversation with friends, and a randomly encountered podcast all teaching a truth about the same topic. It's shameful at times to think how dense I must be, that I must hear it over and over... (and yet praise God for His mercies....)
Often, the lesson is clear: Do not worry. Trust fully. Build relationship. Tame your tongue. Use your gifts.
But sometimes it is very, very vague, nothing more than a word spoken into the recesses of my gray matter at intervals throughout the week, something just outside of my mental vision, escaping the grasp of my grappling reason like a bit of eggshell refusing to be caught back up in the spoon.
It is complex.
That is the Word during this season. I hear it, I think it, I come back to it as the focal point of all my experiences and readings and conversations. It is complex. Tricky. Not easy to understand. Not easy to explain.
It is a fractal, infinitely planned but chaotic none the less. There is a pattern. We cannot know it.
It is complex.
Who I am, what I believe and think and feel and want and need - and why. All that has shaped me and changed me and built me up and torn me down. The nature as well as the nurture. The possibilities to come. There is a pattern, but I cannot quite pin it down.
My relationships with others, each as unique as the individuals themselves - more so, as my relationships do not resemble yours. The intricacies of respect and love and trust and communication, the walls between us and the experiences that bind us together.
God's church. Its many body parts and intricate weaving of service and skills and gifts and grace. The pattern can be seen but not predicted. Not programmed or planned in committee.
God Himself, in full paradox, with promises and faithfulness and mystery and majesty. I am not worthy but I am accepted. What He wants and desires - what a heart truly devoted to Him looks like, in its billions of iterations over the course of all our lifetimes - never appearing the same but all according to a Plan. It is there, but so far beyond our reach.
Heaven. The blades of grass so real they hurt. New earth, refined by fire. Images that cannot be reasoned into doctrine, promises that cannot be understood without walking out on the invisible bridge of faith. A reality in the Already and the Not Yet.
It is so complex.
God did not have to do things this way, but He did. And as we stretch our minds to encompass these complexities, to see the stars and understand the infinity above us, below us, even within us, we reach to our very limits without venturing past the shallows. But God holds it all in the palm of His hand. It is one of the ways that Creation continuously glorifies Him, acknowledging the Greatness and the Magnitude, demanding our obeisance as we fully face the complexity of it all, as we fall to our knees in Wonder.
At the heart of Chaos is Peace Himself.
Praise the Lord.
Because I took dual-credit Calculus in high school, I actually didn't have that many math classes at Harding (another thing to terrify the math-honoring soul). I can honestly only remember taking four courses... but of those, I learned certain lessons that have stayed with me - not because I actually use my mathematics training (I most definitely do not) but because (shock of the world) the fundamental principles of math dwell in quiet repose beneath most of what goes on in this complex but ordered Creation.
In Advanced Geometry (my least favorite class with my least favorite professor), I was taken by surprise one day when my professor abandoned his typical somniferous lecture for a detour into the relatively young field of fractals and chaos theory. Vague recollections of Jurassic Park ran through my mind as I studied the colorful, computer-generated swirls of pattern without end, and as I considered this paradox of Biblical proportions: that apparent chaos is in fact deeply defined order.
[Math lovers, if you are still with me, forgive my simplification of this. And also forgive me for having attempted to teach a whole unit on Chaos Theory to the senior math class during student teaching. Bless.]
At times, God seems to speak so loudly to me that my ears hurt. My personal Bible study, a women's conference, a lunch conversation with friends, and a randomly encountered podcast all teaching a truth about the same topic. It's shameful at times to think how dense I must be, that I must hear it over and over... (and yet praise God for His mercies....)
Often, the lesson is clear: Do not worry. Trust fully. Build relationship. Tame your tongue. Use your gifts.
But sometimes it is very, very vague, nothing more than a word spoken into the recesses of my gray matter at intervals throughout the week, something just outside of my mental vision, escaping the grasp of my grappling reason like a bit of eggshell refusing to be caught back up in the spoon.
It is complex.
That is the Word during this season. I hear it, I think it, I come back to it as the focal point of all my experiences and readings and conversations. It is complex. Tricky. Not easy to understand. Not easy to explain.
It is a fractal, infinitely planned but chaotic none the less. There is a pattern. We cannot know it.
It is complex.
Who I am, what I believe and think and feel and want and need - and why. All that has shaped me and changed me and built me up and torn me down. The nature as well as the nurture. The possibilities to come. There is a pattern, but I cannot quite pin it down.
My relationships with others, each as unique as the individuals themselves - more so, as my relationships do not resemble yours. The intricacies of respect and love and trust and communication, the walls between us and the experiences that bind us together.
God's church. Its many body parts and intricate weaving of service and skills and gifts and grace. The pattern can be seen but not predicted. Not programmed or planned in committee.
God Himself, in full paradox, with promises and faithfulness and mystery and majesty. I am not worthy but I am accepted. What He wants and desires - what a heart truly devoted to Him looks like, in its billions of iterations over the course of all our lifetimes - never appearing the same but all according to a Plan. It is there, but so far beyond our reach.
Heaven. The blades of grass so real they hurt. New earth, refined by fire. Images that cannot be reasoned into doctrine, promises that cannot be understood without walking out on the invisible bridge of faith. A reality in the Already and the Not Yet.
It is so complex.
God did not have to do things this way, but He did. And as we stretch our minds to encompass these complexities, to see the stars and understand the infinity above us, below us, even within us, we reach to our very limits without venturing past the shallows. But God holds it all in the palm of His hand. It is one of the ways that Creation continuously glorifies Him, acknowledging the Greatness and the Magnitude, demanding our obeisance as we fully face the complexity of it all, as we fall to our knees in Wonder.
At the heart of Chaos is Peace Himself.
Praise the Lord.
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