remembering Dr. Reeve

Dr. Pamela Reeve, age 96

A giant of a lady entered into glory last Saturday.

Dr. Pamela Reeve couldn't have been more than 5 feet tall, but she exuded strength and compassion more than twice her size. She had the special gift of making people feel completely at ease. Nothing you said could shock or dismay her. With Dr. Reeve you felt safe to share anything. She treated everything you said as a treasure — something truly precious.

Danny and I had the privilege of taking Dr. Reeve's "Intro to Counseling" class during the semester we were engaged to be married. What better time to work on interpersonal relationships! Dr. Reeve supplied us with the perspective and the tools we needed to build a healthy foundation for our marriage. Fifteen years later, we're still thinking about the lessons we learned in that class—lessons about brokenness, suffering, faith, respect and caring.

Dr. Reeve pioneered the first ever women's ministry program in the nation and mentored generations of  men and women during her 49 years of service at our alma mater, Multnomah University. I count it a privilege to have been one of them. All praise to our God for Dr. Reeve's lifetime of ministry!

this summer by the numbers

I realize the irony of writing this post after the last one, but rest assured that none of these numbers define who I am. They just give you a picture of what I've been up to this summer!

0 - landlords on the planet who are better than ours
1 - core dissertation chapter left to write

2 - new cousins our kids gained this summer (wahoo!)
3 - VBS programs our kids participated in this year

4 - total number of core chapters in my dissertation

5 - years since Easton was born
5 - live paintings I did on stage during VBS

6 - hour drive to Honey Rock to pick up Eliana

10 - days Emma and Easton had swimming lessons

12 - total days Eliana will spend at Honey Rock

15 - years Danny and I have been married
16 - years old our oldest neice is - old enough to come visit us!

17 - days' notice we had before Danny's brother got married

18 - days until school starts
27 - number of camp scholarships raised by VBS kids

32 - books left on my comprehensive reading list

36 - years since I was born (as of today)

43 - days until my next chapter is due

45 - weeks until our lease is up in Wheaton

48 - months this blog has been running
91 - pages in my latest dissertation chapter
125 - kids in our church's VBS program

188 - books I have finished on my comps list
189 - approximate gallons of latex seal coating Danny applied to driveways with our landlord

207 - days until my defense draft is due
235 - total pages I have written so far

273 - pictures I took at Danny's brother's wedding
280 - days until graduation
315 - total number of blog posts I have published
1,349 - dollars the kids brought during VBS to help fund camp scholarships through Sports Friends

2,589 - pages left to read carefully for comps

15,232 - total pages to read carefully for comps

26,171 - words in the chapter I turned in yesterday
34,182 - pageviews on my blog to date

73,080 - words I have written for my dissertation

100,000 - dissertation words I am allowed to write

limitless - grace of God that has carried us through another season!

note to self

who i am
cannot be measured
by pages read
words written
or posts published

i am not
quantifiable
defined by success

who i am
cannot be rated
by peer approval
or faculty accolades

i am not
qualitatively
subject to opinion

who i am
is only visible in mercy's light
undeserved redemption

i am not
what i do

i am not
who they think

i am
His

a story he's writing
his treasured possession
designed
equipped
freed
and released
...to magnify His goodness
and celebrate His grace
i am His

shedding our (theological) skin

Summer spells more time to read with my kids, which I love. We're so spoiled to live across the street from one of the best children's libraries in the country! (But you would think we lived an hour away if you saw the stacks of books we lug home every time we go.)

As it turns out, children's books are a great source for theological reflection. While reading The Butterfly Story by Anca Hariton, I learned something new about caterpillars. And that new thing came in handy in a recent conversation with another student.

She came to me for help on a paper, but after that we chatted for a bit. She expressed that being in grad school has been confusing for her. She feels like the God she learned about as a child is different than the God she's learning about at Wheaton. Now when she prays she's not sure who she's praying to. And that's disconcerting.

We didn't go into detail about the particular differences between her childhood theology and what she's hearing in class. But I've felt that tension before, too. You don't want to turn your back on your childhood faith and the people who instilled it in you. But you trust that your professors know what they're talking about, at least most of the time. The choice between them is sometimes awkward and painful!

Everything seemed so simple before seminary. Your job was to read your Bible, pray, and tell other people about Jesus. You were supposed to tell them that he died on the cross for their sins and that if they ask him into their hearts they can go to heaven to live with him forever.

But then you discover that reading the Bible is not that simple. The Bible never talks about "asking Jesus into your heart." And "Jesus" doesn't make any sense without the Old Testament background. Furthermore, you're told that Westerners tend to over-emphasize individuality and miss the corporateness of the Bible. It's not about "me and Jesus" but about identifying with the believing community. And then your professor points out  "heaven" is not forever. It's only temporary. The real forever is in the new creation. All that makes sense, but it's crippling, because you're not sure how to talk about the gospel anymore. How can I encourage people to read the Bible without getting stuck in hermeneutics? What is the gospel if it's not "me asking Jesus in my heart so I can live in heaven forever"? What do I tell them?

Here's where the Butterfly Story can be helpful. Everyone knows that a caterpillar turns into a butterfly while it's in the chrysalis (a.k.a. cocoon). But did you know that while it's a caterpillar it outgrows its skin several times? It starts out small, but as it eats and grows larger its skin gets tighter and tighter until it splits open, allowing the caterpillar to wriggle out, fill up with air, and keep eating and growing.

The first skin was not defective. It was right for beginning. It did the job. But it's not big enough to accommodate all the growth the caterpillar needs to experience so that it can become what it was designed to be.

Faith is like that. Our simple ideas about God work for a season. By God's grace they get us where we need to be to learn more. But they can't accommodate everything. We must keep eating and keep growing and not be afraid to shed our skin when things get tight. God hasn't changed. But sometimes our picture of who he is and how he works needs filling out. And that's ok. It's all part of growing up.

five . . . and loving him all the way

Our baby is 5 today. Incredible.

Easton's first ride on the tag-a-long bike with Dad!

It's hard to imagine a more delightful kid than Easton. He's so utterly adorable, so funny and eager to learn. He's a joy to parent and so full of love.

He's been thinking long and hard about what he wants for his birthday. After much consideration, he settled on a BIG HUG. :) We've been practicing all week so we can get it right.

A friend of mine from seminary is embarking on a journey as a foster parent. She blogged this week about the challenges of learning to love and let go. Her words are priceless. And she reminded me that none of us know how many days we'll have with our children. They are on loan to us from God. We have to chose between holding back
and loving them "all the way," no matter what the future holds.

One of Emma's classmates underwent a 3-hour surgery on her skull yesterday afternoon. On Tuesday the girls were playing softball together. No issues. Today Addy is hospitalized and recovering from major surgery. We just never know what will come our way. We just have to love them while we can.

Easton started out in a sleeping bag on the floor,
but this is where he ended up.

As I wrote this last night Easton was upstairs, giggling with Emma in her room, where he had a "sleepover." I don't think they talked long. The last thing I heard was ...

Easton: I need my "birthday sleep"!
Emma: I need my "beauty sleep." Goodnight, birthday boy!
Easton: Goodnight, beauty girl!




Happy Birthday, Easton! I'm so thankful I get to be your mom!

Tuesday Tidbit: Goldingay's Gospel

I'm halfway through John Goldingay's 3-volume Old Testament Theology (this is no small feat, considering that it totals some 2600 pages). Volume 1, Israel's Gospel, is especially captivating. I wasn't actually required to read it carefully, just skim it, but I couldn't put it down. Goldingay takes readers through the narratives of the Old Testament, weaving them together in his winsome way and punctuating his prose with profound insights into the ways of God. It was well worth my time, and would be well worth yours -- whether you are a student or not. Goldingay is known for his refreshing honesty, his refusal to flatten the Bible to make it all say what we expect it to say. He acknowledges the tough stuff, muses over apparent contradictions, and then invites us to look at it--and at our great God--with new eyes. For this scholar, the Old Testament is a treasure trove of grace, a place to encounter the gospel again and again. It's no wonder that Israel's Gospel won the 2004 ECPA Gold Medallion award.

Volume 2, entitled Israel's Faith, explores the prophets and poetry of the Old Testament, where faith in Yahweh is expressed most directly. It is arranged topically, but engages closely with the text. It is not as gripping as volume 1, but once again Goldingay's insights into the text make it worth the read. I'm really grateful for the Scripture Index so I can find these insights once again when I need them for my own research and teaching. Here's a taste of what this book has to offer:  In a section on Israel as Yahweh's "Home," Goldingay describes Zion as a place with no "inherent beauty," but a place that has "become beautiful because God resides there" (see Psalm 50:1-3). He goes on to say,

"The city of God is not a place in heaven or even a place on earth insulated from its pressures, but a place within history and its conflicts where God is at work putting down opposition. The challenge to the people of God is to believe that this is so and to live in history with confidence, yet without thinking that we are responsible for fixing the world's destiny or for bringing in the kingdom of God" (Israel's Faith, 242).

Sometimes in the messy day-to-day of life we lose sight of this. We forget that God is at work here, bringing about his master plan by fighting for us. His kingdom is advancing. A battle is being fought and won. Though we participate, we are not responsible to make sure it happens. Instead we are invited to "believe that this is so" -- that Yahweh is the true king and that he will win in the end -- and to announce that his kingdom is here. Now that's good news!

the memory we (almost) missed

Danny often takes the kids camping without me so that I can have an entire weekend of uninterrupted study time while they make memories together. He's a hero! But over Memorial Day weekend, we had planned to go as a whole family. We all love camping. We love the fresh air. We love the trees. We love hiking and biking, resting and reading, playing games and sitting around the campfire. And when we get to do it all together, we're delighted.

But three days before our trip, Danny hurt his shoulder playing basketball. He collided with another guy, heard a "pop", and groaned in pain. By morning the pain was still pretty intense, and Danny's right arm was basically useless. He got on the internet to see if we could cancel our reservation. Sigh. It's hard to find a long weekend that works for all 5 of us and even harder to find a decent camping spot on a holiday weekend. What should we do?

We decided to take the plunge. If we left the bikes at home, we could still camp without so much heavy lifting. So we went. And, boy, were we glad we did. The weather was ideal, the scenery beautiful, and the kids cheerful. We played round after round of our current favorite: Monopoly Deal. We spent hours around the campfire, watching the flames. We went for a short hike, during which Easton spontaneously launched a frisbee off the cliff into the river, prompting a daring rescue by yours truly.

On Sunday morning, Danny checked the forecast and then broke the news. "We're supposed to get a major thunderstorm tonight," he told me. "Starting at 3:00 there is a 30% chance of rain, and that goes up to 60% by 6:00. It's supposed to rain all morning tomorrow, too, right when we're packing up. Should we pack up early and go home?"

I was bummed. Nobody likes to pack up in the rain. Everything would have to be set back up to dry when we got home. But I wasn't done yet. I wanted more games. More campfire. More hiking. More downtime. We decided it made the most sense to go home.

But then, a couple of hours later, about the time we'd need to start packing up, I had a thought. All the best camping memories I have from childhood are when something dramatic happened. Like the time when Dad's truck slid off the highway, or when it got stuck in the middle of a river, or when it got hung up on a rock, or when it barely fit on the narrow

mountain road with a steep cliff on one side. Or the time when it was so windy that Dad was afraid the trailer would blow off the mountain so we packed up and drove home in the middle of the night. If we avoid the rain, will we be missing a memory?


And so we stayed. It rained a little, but then it stopped and the sun came out and the air was fresh and clear. We decided to take a hike while we had the chance. Partway through the hike the clouds moved in again and it started to sprinkle. We picked up the pace, but kept going farther down the trail because we hadn't seen the waterfall yet. Just after we got there, it started to pour. We trudged back through wet grass and muddy trails for about a mile in the pouring rain. By the time we got back to the van we were all soaked to the skin. Our shoes squished and squeaked. Our clothes clung to our bodies. And everyone was happy.

It rained again the next morning, precisely when we were packing up our pop-up camper. The kids stayed dry in the van, but Danny and I were soaked again. As we pulled away from our camping spot, I saw some other campers wearing rain ponchos. "Now there's a good idea!" I said out loud. We had forgotten our umbrellas, but ponchos seemed even more practical. And then it dawned on me. We have ponchos, too . . . safe and dry in our camper! So we laughed and made a mental note for next time.

When we asked the kids later what the highlight of the weekend was, it was unanimous: The "rain hike." We did the same hike a year ago and the kids complained the whole way. This year they giggled and splashed and spurred each other on. Memories are funny things. We can be so intent on trying to make them "just right" that we miss them altogether. In this case, I'm glad that a busy schedule, an injured shoulder, and a dismal forecast didn't stand in the way.