His love is really really real.

As you might be able to tell from the last post, my adjustment to being here in Asheville was far from easy and I handled it in a less than glorious manner. I got stuck in this gross sin cycle of self pity and selfishness and I don't even know what else. Gross stuff. But I am so glad to be here. And, recently, I have met a bunch of wonderful people and have been introduced to this church called "The Body" which is outta control! It's everything I dreamed of being a part of when I moved up here.

I can't post too much now, more to come later.

peace in the middle east,
Nicola

Gus and the Great Adjustment

Gus is my neighbor. On September 19th she will turn 93 years old. The only thing that doesn't work is "from [her] knees down" but she doesn't complain because "they've been holding [her] up for a long time." Gus became a Christian at the age of 10. She has read through the bible 54 times and is currently on her 55th. She is the last surviving member of her family. Her sister died in the chair that I sat in, "right there, in [her] arms." She met her husband at a party. He walked her home, and "that's where it started." He died after 12 short years of marriage. She raised her kids, took care of her elderly parents, ran the choir, and worked at Woolworth's for 47 years. She told me she loved me as I left her house. I love her too.

I'm sorry It's been so long since I've last posted. I don't have any excuse except for...well, that would negate the first part of that sentence, huh?

I have struggled in my adjustment here. It is a good struggle, like the salmon that struggle up stream towards life. I'm struggling, but that doesn't mean the struggle is to my detriment. I find myself asking old familiar questions, and now I am dealing with the answers in a completely different context. The context adds complication to formerly convenient answers.

For instance, Friday night I went out with my roomie and some friends. Part of our conversation was about the Bible and how reliable it is. I listened to some pretty convincing arguments concerning its credibility as a piece of literature, and agreed that it often is put on the same level as God when it should not be. Then, on Saturday night, I hung out with Gus who has read the Bible 54 times and is more alone than I ever want to be, and more content than I could ever hope to be.

I am surrounded by blatant sin, but stand perplexed because it doesn't look as "bad" as I had been told it would. In fact, it's pretty attractive in a lot of ways. Idolaters are some of the nicest people I know.

There is an incredible spiritual dialogue taking place in Asheville. I want to enter into that dialogue and attest to the beauty and hope found in Jesus, but I find myself thinking: "What right do I have to assert my beliefs? What do I really know, anyway?" It's not that I doubt the reality of Jesus (of course, I have plenty of moments of doubt, but overall, I'm owned), but I rather doubt my ability to enter in and say, "This is what I know..." without sounding superior. That's the last thing I want, because that's the last thing I am. I am not superior. I am a beggar in the Kingdom of God. I beg daily for my bread, for the grace to believe, the grace to be faithful, the grace to understand this great mystery called redemption...

This phase of struggling is good, but very strange. Even though I'm asking questions I've asked before, the setting of Asheville makes me consider them in whole new way. If you are reading this and you are my friend, please don't think I'm forsaking the Gospel or getting "sucked in" to the crock pot of Ashevillian Spirituality. I'm not. At the end of the day, I always conclude that without Jesus there is absolutely no hope, no purpose, no beauty. But during the day, I wonder what that looks like, and how it should apply to my life. It's a messy process of prayer, discussion, listening, reading, and questioning.