Pet Peeves

The idea of a pet peeve doesn't sound like a platform for spiritual growth or building of community to me. In fact, it has always reeked of complaints, conflicts, and discomfort, at least in my mind. Until last week.

We've gotten in the habit eating together as a "family" every Sunday (many thanks to Magen's cooking). In addition to fueling up, we've looked to these times as opportunities to discuss household business, like which room is getting demolished next, as well as dish about our weeks, share our favorite YouTube videos, and pray. It's a time we've set aside to be ultra-intentional within our already intentional community, to be real with each other and hash out ways to make life at 30Cent more awesome than it already is.

So at last week's meal---breakfast at dinner, by the way---Tara brought up the idea of sharing our pet peeves with each other. Major props to her on this one. It's not fun to be the person to suggest the focus of the evening be what annoys us most. It sounds potentially horrifying, like something that could dissolve into serious animosity. Especially if you're the roommate who thought that we were meant to go around the table and say something about each individual person that annoys us. Now, THAT would make for some ridiculous reality TV.

But we went ahead and did it, realizing that we would have greater success relating to each other and serving each other if we knew the things that bothered each of us, and had the knowledge to prevent ourselves from unknowingly driving someone up a wall. So each of us went around and said something that has annoyed us in living situations, as well as something that genuinely gives us hope and joy.

This was not a spiritual activity on the surface. For example, no one said that a pet peeve was not having enough time to read his or her Bible, or not having enough Christian music around (Stuff Christians Like, anyone??). The pet peeves were rather simple, practical, and surface-level, when looked at plainly. Many said a pile of dirty dishes in the sink made their skin crawl (OK I might be adding the strong language there). Some couldn't swallow tardiness, and others needed leeway when it came to adhering to deadlines. So many of these peeves were born out of how we were raised, the places we come from, and the stories we lived prior to ever setting foot in 30Cent or even meeting one another. We also learned simple ways in which we could help each other as we're facing rough patches, through things like compliments, assistance when we're really busy, asking questions when it seems like we're having a tough time, and surprises.

It's hard to see how, when taken on its own, this knowledge could make the interactions in our home more Christ-like. But ultimately, knowing what hurts people the most and what helps them the most enables us to best serve them. And so much of faith lies in these practical, concrete actions, like how Philippians 2:3 tell us to, "In humility, consider others better than yourselves."

We realized in discussing our pet peeves, and places of encouragement, that a give and take is required in using this knowledge. For example, now that we know someone's pet peeve, we definitely have to take the steps to not do these things. Often, this may take time out of our day and inconvenience us. But looking to the needs of others above our own comforts and time constraints will ultimately bring more of Jesus to our home.

There's also a huge element of grace required in this process, too, especially on the part of the person whose pet peeve is being violated. When someone does something that annoys us, it is so easy to take this personally, and see that other person as a jerk, and his or her actions as a blatant disregard for our feelings. But, as we learned in our dinner conversation, so much of how we act is simply a matter of habits that have been steeped in us since birth. And now that we have the knowledge of how they can negatively affect other people, we can work on how to fix these things. But that will probably take time, so rather than assuming someone is out to hurt us when they do something irritates us, we will have to extend grace and learn to see the best in one another as we are all learning and growing. It will require patience and love, and yes, it will be hard. Thankfully, we have Someone who is bigger and stronger than us in this way, and will give us His patience and His love in the process.

So, speaking of love, I think it'd be great to close this post out with a selection from 1 Corinthians 13 (the love chapter), in The Message version of the Bible. The plain, modern language really hits on how love is a summation of intentional, servant-minded actions, not a gooey feeling that strikes unexpectedly and haphazardly. It makes me realize how much of that chapter applies not just to marriage, but life in community. Read below (italic text is my own emphasis):

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Better Together

Sorry for the title, to those who can't stand Jack Johnson.

I'm trying to be more consistent with this blog and check in almost every day, even if it is just to share quick thoughts or quips. So here goes:

Don Miller's blog today is about community, so I thought it'd make a perfect fit for this. He talks about his attempts to look at his faith more as a shared one, and to pray for his Christian family more than he prays for himself or even for another individual person. I like it.

He also mentions research from a heart surgeon, who found that community and contact with others was just as important to health rehabilitation as medicine was. Don says: " In other words, we were designed to work best when we were in loving relationships."

I'm going to work on remembering this, especially when I feel like I'm not at my prime. I often think the answer is alone time and isolation, but I think in many cases, it's the opposite. Thanks for the reminder, Don. And thanks community (both 30Cent and beyond), for being there.

Falling, Fear and Faith

As I've mentioned, the group took a trip to New Hampshire's White Mountains late last month, which I tried to summarize as comprehensively as possible in 15 bullet points. But there's something I didn't really mention.

The initial inspiration for that getaway was a ziplining tour, suggested by Magen.Now, I don't normally do stuff like this. I like city comforts, and I prefer to be propped up high in the sky in a strongly-built highrise building, not some string and a few carabiners. But I signed up for the sake of group bonding, carefully choosing to ignore the fact that I would be flying hundreds of feet in the air on wires, dependent on the physics of a harness and the skills of the ziplining staff who set up the contraptions.

The first 36 hours of the trip were so fun and invigorating, I continued to ignore this fact. I even managed to push it toward the back of my mind when I got geared up at the tour company's building. The realization that I would soon be confronting my fear of shaky, unstable heights only began to enter my mind as we took a safari-style ride up the mountain, in a vehicle made for the Australian military.

My heartrate kicked into full-gear as soon as we all stepped onto the tiny square of wood where the first leg of the zipline tour began, hundreds of feet long and at least 60 feet above the ground. The others continued to crack jokes and laugh, while all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. The one consolation I had was that I didn't have to do this one alone. This leg of the course was set up as a race, with two lines side by side, and Magen, who's seen me through far worse than a heights phobia, was my partner for the event. (I say partner rather than competitor because there was no way I was going to win this one.) As the line in front of me shrunk and my turn approached, Tara continued to flash me reassuring smiles, another incredibly bright spot.

When it came time for Magen and I to go, I felt my heart in my throat as I stepped off the platform into air. Luckily, it cleared out soon enough for me to scream through the entire length of the line. But before I knew it, my feet went from punting pure air to touching the ground. We had arrived safely, soundly, and to the smiles and cheers from the rest of 30cent.

I think life often puts us in situations that are in many ways similar to what I felt on the tiny wood platform, several storeys high in the trees. The best, but most terrifying option was to jump full-force into what I had started. Sure, at any point of the tour I could have told the guides that I wasn't having it and that they needed to take me back. But continuing was the only entrance I had into the rest of the adventure and story that awaited.

That first step was terrifying, but successfully completing it showed me that the mechanisms in place to make the zipline safe and functional were there, and that the likelihood of me falling and dying was slim. Similarly, trusting God initially is terrifying. It is a complete plunge into the unknown. But we won't know unless we try. We won't experience the beauty of surrender and trust and grace and faith unless we start by just jumping into it.

The second stop on the zipline tour was a solo line, and was the longest, slowest, highest-from-the-ground part of the entire tour. It was an adjustment, but beautiful in a completely different way. I knew a bit more of what to expect, but I was still scared. I had more time to think about it all, and take in my surroundings. So, as I went at this one alone, I tried to repeat everything I knew in my head about fear and trust. And I absorbed the beautiful landscape below, reminding myself that I would never have this view at any other time. Similarly, I've been working to enjoy the view from areas in my life where I feel suspended in thin air. God has so much to teach in these areas of patience and waiting, so rather than fighting and kicking my way through these times, I'm hoping and praying for the eyes to enjoy the beautiful landscape of the present.

With each successive zip line, the source of my screams moved from fear to exhilaration, and I started to wish the tour were longer. The last line of the tour was basically a trust fall on crack. It began as an almost-perfect vertical drop, that propelled you into a U-shaped line where you swung back and forth until your body lost the momentum from the initial fall. On that one, I let out the biggest scream by far, followed by the loudest shriek and giggle of delight.

I think it was the perfect end to the tour, and the extended metaphor that comes from it. It showed me that God can bring you through everything, even life's version of that free-fall. Each challenge builds us up to better and more beautifully weather the next one. Here's a passage that I think speaks to that idea:

"...but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us..." Romans 5:3-5

Sure, I'm going a bit profound here with my fear of heights and flying through the treetops, but bear with me. The experience gave me a concrete, physical reminder of how when you have nothing left, all you can do is trust. And that trust is not disappointing and does not feel like a last resort once you've taken the leap. It's beautiful, strengthening, and unlike anything you could experience in situations that seem less scary on the surface.

Oh, and making leaps with others alongside you is far less harrowing than doing it alone. Ziplining is just one of many things in my life that has been made more beautiful by community.

Ah The Simple Pleasures

Yesterday we received the following e-mail from Tara:

"WE OFFICIALLY HAVE A RUNNING SHOWER, CLEAN, ROOMY, WITH HOT WATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just took a shower in it, and it might have been one of the most amazing experiences of my life. You don’t even understand (well actually you do).

So girls, grab your shampoo and conditioner, and head upstairs to try this baby out. You might even want to take a ½ day and get home early."

I'm not going to try to get spiritually deep on this one. I just wanted to share it because it gives you a glimpse of our emotional state throughout this process. We were like kids on Christmas upon hearing the news. I didn't rush home early, but I certainly felt giddy at looking at a sparkling white tub rather than a construction-style tarp while cleaning up last night. So 30Cent now has one non-treehouse bathroom. Expect us all to look much more cleaned up from now on. Kidding (sort of).

I will soon revisit some topics that I've teased you with before, such as what I learned about fear, trust, encouragement and community while ziplining; how Heaven can further work its way into our actions; and much more. Happy Friday.

"Heaven, once attained, will work backwards..."

“...That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory…”

The above dialogue is an excerpt from C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce, which I’ve been reading recently (my roommate Jasmine would say this is “soooooo Christian” of me). In this passage, a Spirit character is instructing the protagonist, who is on a journey through the afterlife, on the fluidity of time once eternity is reached. He is essentially saying that once one comes in contact Heaven, it will overtake all the pain and ugliness that occurred before it---that Heaven is so expansive, powerful, beautiful, and bright that it can point everything else toward it, regardless of the order in which it all happened. Thus, the pain that one experienced prior to tasting this ultimate peace and bliss won’t actually feel like pain anymore, because it all pointed and led to Heaven on some level.

This idea strikes me as utterly beautiful. I love, love, love the idea of light overtaking the darkness with even brighter light. I find hope that our present sorrows, however massive they feel, will someday lack any dark feelings or tones. Sometimes I even feel this way now, when I look at old emails, pictures, or personal musings from times when I felt pain. While I’m not ignoring the hurt they caused or saying that I’m in a state of absolute Heaven right now, seeing how painful things can build and lead to something so much better and beautiful certainly evokes a sense of joy.

You’ve heard me talk about the process and pain of renovations so far. No, I’m not quite calling it all agony. I know that compared to 99.9999% of the problems on God’s Earth, ours is quite small. We are blessed to have each other and an amazing place to live, and I hope that I don’t communicate otherwise. But, the state of living in constant disarray has definitely placed us out of our comfort zones and put us in contact with feelings that contrast Heaven.

Now that the third floor is so close to done, I can relate to how a sense of Heaven can virtually reverse previous pains. Objectively, I think the “9+ people, 1 bathroom, 1 kitchen, 1 sink” phase” is the most grueling stage of 30cent renovations yet. Never before has this house had so many people living in it, sharing so little space and so few resources. Yet it doesn’t feel like it has been the most challenging stage so far, at least not for me. On the surface, it really should be. It’s somewhat silly to invite friends over when your bathroom is made of tarp and particleboard, and when your kitchen sink is also your bathroom sink. I grew up with only one sibling, and waiting for him in the bathroom usually resulted in screaming matches. None of us at 30cent have resorted to that form of communication yet.

We can, and frequently do laugh, at the absurdity of it all. But I don’t think many of us see it as agony. Personally, I think it’s because we’ve been given such a beautiful, concrete visualization of what we are working toward. The nearly complete third floor has given us a glimpse of “heaven.” As a result, we can see the purpose of the frustrations that come as we are transforming the other floors, taking most of the pain and hurt out of the process. We are all excited to have spaces as beautiful as the third floor, and I believe it has helped us more joyfully experience the cramped space in the meantime. Heaven has worked its way backwards.

It’s almost fun in a way now. Many of us even joke (lament, actually) that once we all have our own beautiful and functional bathrooms, kitchens, and common areas, we won’t be together as much. I hope the community, laughter, and solidarity we’re experiencing now will continue and only grow in magnitude. I think it will. I think Heaven will continue to work its way into our present state, and I pray that it transforms not just how we deal with sharing stuff with each other, but how we treat everyone else in our lives. My next post should be a bit more concrete and descriptive on what I think it means for Heaven to work its way into our actions…

9+ People, 1 Bathroom

A quick construction update, with deeper insights to come tonight or tomorrow.

The third floor is so close to being done it seems we can all taste it (which may be due to the fact that we have actually eaten dinner up there twice now). It's a beautiful, open space that has now been painted cheerful colors and filled with couches, a TV, a large dining set, and even kitchen cabinets. It screams family and good times, and I love it.

There still isn't running water up there just yet, and that's really where the fun comes in. Why? Because additionally, the bathroom and kitchen in the girls' floor have been sealed off, in preparation for demolition and reconstruction. That means the entire house is sharing the bathroom on the boys' floor. And not just one bathroom, but one sink total, which is in the kitchen. So the one bathroom we're sharing isn't even really a full bathroom, but a tarp-covered room with a shower, a toilet, a makeshift light fixture, wooden studs, and roughly 1600 bottles of shampoo and soap.

And we've had several visitors each week, meaning anywhere from nine to 12 people are sharing one shower, one toilet, and one sink. No one has killed each other yet. And no one has really even come close to it. The people who come to visit us tell us that they have had an amazing stay. And I actually believe them. My mother grew up as one of seven kids, and I think this is the closest I'll ever come to knowing what that kind of childhood was like.

Sometime tomorrow, there's a very good chance that the bathroom on the third floor will be operational. Nine people sharing one bathroom doesn't sound nearly as noble as nine people sharing two, so I wanted to get this update out asap. I think we've all observed, learned, and changed a lot in the very short course of 9+ people, 1 bathroom, so I'll be telling you all more about that later. Expect pictures, too. Because not only are we sharing 1 bathroom for the entire house, but most of the free, shared living space looks like something on the TV show "Hoarding: Buried Alive" (kudos to Luke for first observing that).