perspective on cape perpetua

We had clamored over the volcanic rocks along with many others, their skin tones a wide range of hues and their languages sharply distinct — Spanish, French, Arabic, Russian, Japanese. Surely others, too. We were united in our fascination with the coastline and our awe as the pounding surf was thrown back by the sharp black rocks on which we stood.

Cape Perpetua (Phtoto: C Imes)

Every dozen yards or so the water had prevailed, with its persistent pounding, slicing a trench that progressively narrowed into stubborn rock. Here the waves picked up speed with a kind of focused frenzy, hurling themselves at the obsidian walls that taunted and restricted their progress.

The surge, the deep boom, the spray, and then the clatter of droplets, thrown helpless on the solid barrier, only to slide back down and drip into the churning sea.

Innumerable mussels clung fast to the hardened lava, daring the waves to pry them free, depending on the moisture and food delivered with each flailing attempt to carve stone.

Emma on the edge (Photo: C Imes)

We—my family and I, along with at least a dozen others—took our places around a deep bowl, hollowed out by the sea, which rushed to fill it through some unseen tunnel. Again and again the water would flood the enormous bowl and then be sucked out, leaving a gaping chasm encrusted with dripping mussels. Then, just as suddenly it would swell again with seawater, splashing and churning, lapping at the toes of the most foolhardy among us, eliciting gasps and shouts from all. Flush, fill, flush, fill. We watched, awestruck, as the sun slipped toward the horizon.

A few hours in the presence of such raw, unbridled power and my life feels very small indeed.

Cape Perpetua (Photo: C Imes)

Then, like the rapidly receding ocean water, we hurried to retrace our steps and climb the path to our parked car. We had just a few minutes to make it to the top of the cape for a birds' eye view of the sunset. The road wound up and up and up for two full miles, ending at the top of a coastal mountain. We rushed to the edge of the trail to look out across the expanse. I was dumbstruck.

View of the Coastline from Cape Perpetua (Photo: C Imes)

The powerful, churning waves were so far below us now that their pounding produced little more than a whisper. The sharp black rocks that held the waves at bay—merely a fringe for the heaped blanket of coastal mountains that towered above. The endless sea lay quiet and glistening beneath us as the sun slipped at last beyond the horizon.

The lesson in the crashing surf was merely a foretaste. If my life shrank beside the surge of seawater, it nearly vanished from the tip of Cape Perpetua.

And yet—

the incomprehensible mystery—

I, though infinitesimally small, have been invited to contribute, to partner with the One who designed all this.

Cape Perpetua 2016 (Photo: C Imes)

I am to cherish and share this creation with others. Still more—I get to participate in its ongoing development. I get to speak to it, engage with it, and shape it (for good or for ill).

The Creator shares with me the joy of co-creation, the dignity of service, the delight of influence.

And so I write, hoping to capture the brilliancy of a single evening in typed words so you can join me there on the cape, awestruck. You, too, are changing the world.

chastened intuitions

My blog has needed an update for quite some time. At first, "seminary mom" made sense. I was a mom in seminary, and this somewhat unusual combination of vocations defined my educational journey. Then we moved to Wheaton for PhD studies and happened to land on Seminary Avenue. That gave my url a few more years of relevance (at least for those who knew where to find me!). I've been running on fumes for two years now, far from seminary and from Seminary avenue. And though my hands and my heart are both full, it was time for a change of title as well.

So here it is!

Starting today you can find my blog at www.carmenjoyimes.blogspot.com. I've re-titled it "Chastened Intuitions," and for that I owe you an explanation. The idea came to me several years ago while reading John Barton's Reading the Old Testament: Method in Biblical Study. Barton has the guts to say what many biblical scholars avoid admitting (to themselves or anybody else): competent reading of Scripture involves a great deal of intuition.

In his words, "much harm has been done in biblical studies by insisting that there is, somewhere, a 'correct' method which, if only we could find it, would unlock the mysteries of the text" (5). He examines a whole spate of methods (literary criticism, form criticism, redaction criticism, the canonical approach, structuralist criticism, and new criticism), concluding that each method contributes something, but none is the be-all-end-all of biblical study. Any one of these, when taken to the extreme, collapses upon itself.*

He continues, "I propose that we should see each of our 'methods' as a codification of intuitions about the text which may occur to intelligent readers" (5). They are ways of circling the text and looking at it from different angles. Barton is not saying that the meaning of the biblical text is open to any and every interpretation, whatever a reader wishes to see, but that our intuitions are re-shaped by the reading process so that we become increasingly competent. In other words, we bring our intuitions to the text and in the process of reading we are chastened and changed by it.

This is true of life as well. We think we know how things ought to go, but they don't quite play out as we expected. We take a step back, readjust, and carry on, wiser for the experience.

I believe that when we approach the text and the world with eyes of faith, eager to learn and expecting to be changed, we become increasingly conformed to the image of Christ. Along the way our interpretations of the text and of life become more reliable.

This blog has been and will continue to be a place where I process the lessons God is teaching me as I study his word and engage his world. You're welcome to join me by reading along!

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*Sometimes Christians resist the idea of "method" in biblical study altogether because they misunderstand the doctrine of perspicuity (that is, the doctrine from the Protestant Reformation that teaches that the Scriptures are clear). While the basics of God's saving grace in Christ are communicated at a level that even a child can understand and embrace, the Bible is not an "easy read." A host of theological and practical problems arise when we assume that we should simply take the Bible "literally," without regard for its ancient context, its genre, and figurative language.

a simple path to joy (part 3): faith for the bend in the road

In the first two posts of this series, I've suggested that true joy comes when we face life honestly and cultivate gratitude for what we have and where we are. These choices get us through the gate and onto joy's path, and they help us navigate each intersection.

The third choice on the pathway to joy comes when we reach a bend in the road. It's a fact of life that we can't see what's ahead. But joy does not depend on knowing what comes next or being able to control it.  True joy cannot be seized or managed.  We don't get there by straining harder, but rather by releasing our hold on what we cannot control anyway. Christian joy comes when we recognize our own helplessness. That is, it comes through faith -- faith rooted in the reality of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ, and in what he promises to do for all creation. We await the renewal of all things. We believe it is coming. Trouble may lurk around the next bend, but the pain, sorrow, and madness of this world is not final. It is merely a symptom of our world's brokenness and need for restoration. That restoration has been promised by the God who created all things. We can count on it. And it has already begun to take effect with the resurrection of Jesus. 

The story of Jesus is powerful precisely because when he became human he entered fully into the mess and the brokenness of this world. But his life was fully surrendered to God the Father and therefore fully energized by the Holy Spirit. His mastery of being human, his perfection, is more than just a model for us to follow (though it is that). It's what qualified him to break the power of sin and death by offering himself in our place. He took the punishment we deserved. He died our death, so that we could truly live.

The New Testament calls joy a fruit — one of the character qualities that naturally arises from a life energized by the Holy Spirit. This, too, suggests that joy comes not by straining, but by surrender, not by trying, but by trust in the transforming power of God. That power is made available to us in Jesus Christ. A gift to each of us who surrenders. We can walk in this joyful reality by facing our brokenness with honesty, embracing our present with gratitude, and responding in faith to life's uncertainties. We may not know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future. And that makes all the difference.

Now for a word of warning. The pathway to joy is not a path we walk only once. Honesty, gratitude, and faith are not quick fixes for joy. They must become habits. We must continue to face life with honesty, to receive our circumstances with gratitude, and to embrace the future with faith. As one Bible scholar puts it, "Like muscles, the capacity for joy atrophies if we do not use it regularly. Those who wait for some great occasion for joy and gratitude to God are not likely to recognize it when it happens." (Ellen Davis, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs, 221; quoted in James Limburg, Encountering Ecclesiastes: A Book for our Time, 114). We begin practicing honesty, gratitude and faith right here, with whatever we're facing.

Paul was among the early Christians who traveled around the Roman world to spread the news about Jesus' resurrection from the dead. He had some utterly strange things to say about joy:

In his letter to the church in Corinth he said, "In all our troubles my joy knows no bounds." (2 Corinthians 7:4) He spoke of others who had "overflowing joy" "in the midst of a very severe trial (2 Corinthians 8:2). And Paul was not alone in noticing that joy and trials often went hand-in-hand. James, the brother of Jesus, wrote "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds." (James 1:2) Pure joy? When facing trials? Why? He goes on to say, "because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:4) James is saying we ought to be grateful for the effects of those trials on our character. Through the eyes of faith, we know that hard times help us to grow in important ways -- provided we respond with open hands and open hearts. That brings pure joy.

We no longer need to worry about what's ahead. If something good happens, we can celebrate. If we face difficult times, we can be glad for what those experiences will do in us so that we can become who we were meant to be. We win either way! That frees us to face our present situation honestly and receive it with gratitude.

Paul discovered this. He wrote, "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:11–13)

And so can you!

a simple path to joy (part 2): the intersection of gratitude

In my first post in this series, I claimed that true joy is impossible to find when we are living in denial. We begin our journey to joy by facing life's messes head on and choosing to be honest. That's how we enter the gateway on the path to joy.

Next we come to an intersection, and we have to make our second choice: gratitude. We cannot be everything we might have been, have everything that can be had, go everywhere there is to go. We can only be and do and have this. Once we have faced our disappointments with brutal honesty, we are free to move on with gratitude for what our life actually holds.

Our world is full of constant reminders of what we don't have. Ads surround us incessantly, telling us all day long about the products and services that will make life easier, or sweeter, or more successful. But joy depends not on what we have but on our disposition towards what we have. The Greek philosopher Epicurus warned, "Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not." Put another way, "Happy is the woman who wants what she has." In fact, sometimes we uncover joy by having less, by simplifying our lives -- clearing out our closets and giving things away. Every item we own gets a piece of our care and attention until we have no energy left to care for the things that really matter. It is freeing to declutter, to downsize, to keep only what we actively use.

But this intersection on the pathway to joy isn't only about what we have. It's also about where we are and who we've become. There are more possibilities in life than we have time to try, more opportunities than we can pursue. When we cultivate the habit of thankfulness, our hearts are positioned for joy. We cannot take every path, but we did take this one. To spend our time wondering about all the other paths we could have taken robs us of joy. I am not an astronaut. I am not a midwife. I am not a famous singer. I am not a jungle missionary. I am not even one of those amazing stay-at-home moms who actively volunteers at the elementary school and whose kids have really creative birthday parties every year. Saying 'yes' to one path has meant saying 'no' to others.

About a year ago we realized that I would probably never finish my doctoral degree unless I started to say 'no' to good opportunities. I resolved not to say 'yes' to anything but family until I was finished. At first it was painfully difficult. The things I was asked to do were right up my alley. They were things that would energize me. Ways to plug into my church and my community for which I was uniquely suited -- lead a small group, speak in chapel, teach a college class. But after half a dozen difficult 'no's' my schedule was completely open for the task I dreaded -- revising my dissertation. And I discovered that when I had complete focus, I did much better work and enjoyed it far more than before! I relished the gift of concentration. We shoot ourselves in the foot when we try to do it all or have it all, or spend our energy wondering what would have happened or what could have been. Those things are not. This is what is. Here is where we are. So let's embrace it and move forward with gratitude. 

This is a sure way to begin to find joy. But what about the uncertainties ahead? In my next post, I'll talk about what to do when we can't see around the bend in the road.

a simple path to joy (part 1): the gateway to honesty

Last week I had the opportunity to speak at the May Festival at Evangelical Bible Church in Dallas, Oregon. My assigned topic was "Joy in Simplicity." Here's a glimpse of what I shared:

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How do we find joy? Joy is not automatic. A life free from trouble is no guarantee of joy, and a difficult life does not prevent it.

From 2002 to 2005 we lived in the Philippines. In spite of widespread government corruption, crippling poverty, oppressive heat, and high unemployment, we found Filipinos to be some of the happiest people we've ever met. They can fall asleep anywhere, turn a 1-year-old's birthday into a wedding-sized celebration, and laugh in the face of trouble. They are among the poorest in Asia, but arguably the happiest. Clearly, joy does not depend on circumstances. So how do we get there?

If we imagine a pathway to joy, forward movement depends on three deliberate choices. (There may be others; I'm addressing three here.) The first comes at a gateway, the second at an intersection, and the third at a bend in the road. To enter the gateway we need to choose honesty. To navigate the intersection we must choose gratitude. And to lend perspective for the bends in the path, we need faith.

We make the first deliberate choice at the gateway of honesty. We will never arrive at true joy by pretending to be happy. Denial is the enemy of joy —a closed door to joy's garden path. We cannot bypass grief and pain, guilt or unforgiveness and expect to find joy. That thing that robs us of joy must be faced head on. We must look it in the eye and name it.

In fact, psychologists tell us that when we avoid honesty, we invite poor health, both emotionally and physically. In the words of one scholar who has studied this phenomenon (Brent Strawn, on James Pennebaker's study, in Brueggemann, From Whom No Secrets Are Hid, xix), "Inhibition is hard work, and that work eventually takes its toll on the body's defenses." So you want real joy? Step one is to grieve your losses. Admit your fault. Express your anger. Own your failures. Voice your disappointment. Forgive those who have let you down.

This is a bit awkward to say in church. Most churches have lost the art of making space for this kind of honesty. We give the distinct impression that "putting on your Sunday best" always includes a bright smile. We rarely confess our sins, name our failures, face our fears, and grieve our losses in community. And so our unexpressed emotions become roadblocks to joy. One way to recover these practices is to pray the Psalms together. The Psalms let it all hang out. Every ugly emotion you can imagine.  It's like reality TV, minus the TV.

God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer! By night, but I find no rest! (22:2)

Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help! (22:11)

Break the arm of the wicked man; call the evildoer to account for his wickedness (10:15)

All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears (6:6)

Heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? (6:2-3)

Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight. (51:4)

Troubles without number surround me; my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see (40:12)

Let evil recoil on those who slander me; in your faithfulness destroy them (54:5)

Through prayer, all these raw and gritty realities are brought into the presence of God and given over for Him to handle. The Psalms are proof that God invites us to come as we are. To say it like it is. And by doing so, to find a new way forward. There's no way around it.

So we begin our journey to joy by choosing to be honest.

Then we come to an intersection, and we have to make our second choice: gratitude. I'll talk about that intersection in my next post on joy. 

prostitutes, polygamy, and other gnarly things in the Old Testament

The Old Testament is full of fodder for questions. Gnarly questions about violence and sexual deviancy and deception and war. Every year new books are released that try to wrestle with these questions from a Christian point of view. Here are a few examples from recent years, most of them focused on violence in the Old Testament:

• The God I Don't Understand: Reflections on Tough Questions of Faith by Christopher J. H. Wright (Zondervan, 2008)
• Is God a Moral Monster? Making Sense of the Old Testament God by Paul Copan (Baker, 2011)
• God Behaving Badly: Is the God of the Old Testament Angry, Sexist and Racist? by David T. Lamb (IVP, 2011)
• The Violence of Scripture: Overcoming the Old Testament's Troubling Legacy by Eric A. Seibert (Fortress, 2012)
• The Morality of God in the Old Testament: Christian Answers to Hard Questions by Gregory K. Beale (P&R Publishing, 2013)
• Did God Really Command Genocide? Coming to Terms with the Justic of God by Paul Copan & Matt Flannagan (Baker, 2014)
• The Skeletons in God's Closet: The Mercy of Hell, the Surprise of Judgment, the Hope of Holy War by Joshua Ryan Butler (Thomas Nelson, 2014)
• Tough Questions about God and His Actions in the Old Testament by Walter Kaiser Jr. (Kregel, 2015)
• Wrestling with the Violence of God: Soundings in the Old Testament by J. Blair Wilgus & M. Daniel Carroll R. (Eisenbrauns, 2015)

Last year David Lamb added a second book of his own to this collection: Prostitutes and Polygamists: A Look at Love, Old Testament Style (Zondervan, 2015). I was asked to review it for Themelios, the digital journal of The Gospel Coalition. My review went live yesterday.

I hesitated to accept. The book struck me as edgy and irreverently playful on a subject matter that deserves steady and non-sensational reflection. Frankly, I didn't seem to fit the target audience. But the editor had reasons to ask me (my gender, my cross-cultural experience, and my background in Old Testament ethics), so in the end I agreed to write a review. You can read it here. You might find it to be just the thing for the college group at your church, but I hope my review will help guide your group discussions in order to avoid some of the potential pitfalls of Lamb's approach.

While I have your attention, I'll put in a plug for two books I like better. Wright's book, listed first above, is an outstanding yet accessible introduction to tough issues involving suffering and evil, the Canaanites, the cross, and the end of the world. (His more scholarly tome, Old Testament Ethics for the People of God, is also well worth reading, if your attention span can last nearly 500 pages.) Paul Copan's book, listed second above, comes highly recommended as well. I haven't read the whole thing yet, but I find his approach much more satisfying than Lamb's.


If you're wrestling with some of these tough questions, please know that there are answers. From our vantage point we may never be fully satisfied with the ways that the Old Testament narrates the story of Israel's faith. It's too foreign and too far in the distant past to make perfect sense to us. But if we apply ourselves diligently to the text of Scripture and broaden our understanding of its ancient context, we can come a long way toward making sense of the Old Testament. It's a journey worth making!

now what? (and other questions): life after dissertation

It's the inevitable question that follows the celebratory congratulations. Since I've been blessed with a wide-ranging support network, it's a question I'm asked just about every day by people who care.

So, yes, it feels amazing to be (almost) done!
Yes, it's a huge load off our shoulders, and the whole family is relieved.
Yes, I have a bit more freedom and flexibility now.

But no, I will not have a lot more free time. Here's why:

A Ph.D. is not the type of degree people earn for personal enrichment. As a matter of stewardship, the huge investment of time, mentoring, and other resources are designed to prepare the student for a lifetime of scholarship. Career-wise, like most of my colleagues, my hope is to be a college professor. I have already begun teaching at two schools, George Fox University in Newberg, Oregon, and Multnomah University in Portland. I love what I do. I'm very grateful for open doors. However, these "jobs" are a bit like being a "temp" worker (minus the agency). They pay very little (last spring my pay worked out to about $5/hour), with no benefits, and no guarantee of employment beyond the current semester. Semester by semester, each school will let me know if they need me to teach for them again. So while I love my work, I do not actually have a job yet.

In order to get a permanent position, I must demonstrate that I will be a contributing member of the campus as well as the scholarly community by staying abreast of current research, participating in campus events, investing in students outside of class, and achieving excellence in teaching (as measured by student evaluations). Diploma aside, without several scholarly publications and stellar teaching evaluations, no school is likely to consider hiring me. In today's educational environment, very few schools are hiring permanent ("tenure-track") faculty. Schools that do post positions are flooded with qualified applicants. To walk away from the library now would spell the end of my career.

Getting a PhD is a bit like becoming an MD. Your medical doctor did not stop studying when she graduated from medical school (thank goodness!). She reads medical journals, attends medical conferences, and even collaborates with other doctors to ensure quality care and accurate diagnoses for patients. Likewise, I cannot stop studying and writing. A professor who ceases to learn, ceases to teach.

And so my days are still full. These days I'm revising my dissertation (almost done!), prepping for class, grading student papers, and preparing for upcoming gigs:

In May I'll be presenting a paper at an academic meeting in Idaho (Northwest Regional Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature) and serving as a respondent for a colleague's paper.
In June I'll be teaching a one-week intensive course on the Old Testament Prophets at Multnomah University.
In July I'll be filming brief lectures for an online course on the Prophets at Multnomah, to be offered beginning in October.
In late August I'll begin teaching 2 new courses on campus at George Fox (Exodus and Psalms) and another section of Prophets at Multnomah.

On top of this are the opportunities to invest in the church—speaking at a women's event in May in Dallas, Oregon, helping with VBS, and speaking at a women's retreat in September in Wisconsin—as well as finding a publisher for my dissertation and beginning work on my next research project.

All of these great opportunities require long, quiet, focused hours of preparation. Studying the Word, crafting a message or a lecture, preparing visual aids, and coordinating logistics. In fact, with 4 classes this fall (3 on two campuses and one online), I'll be teaching the equivalent of a full-time load. I expect to be just as busy as ever. But I'm not complaining.

That was the whole point of all this schooling.

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded;

and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.

(Luke 12:48 NIV)

Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful. 

(1 Corinthians 4:2 NIV) 

At the end of the race, may I be found faithful!