A lament in true Hebrew poetry form (except in English), that I wrote.

O God, hear us now
Open your ears to our cry
Have you abandoned your people?
Will you forget your chosen ones?

We are drowning in apathy
Our sins overcome us
The faithful are few
They cry out for help

We have hearts of stone
Cold and unyielding
Our minds are like sawdust
Empty and worthless

Our ears are deaf
We cannot hear your voice
Our eyes are blind
We cannot see your glory

And you, O Lord, you hide your face
You stand aside and watch us die
You give blessing to our fall
Will you indeed turn away and let us die?

Save us, Lord our God
Reach down your hand
Deliver us from ourselves
Make your presence known

Give us understanding hearts
Let our eyes see once more
Open our ears to hear again
O God, renew our minds

Remember those who seek you
Those who delight in your word
Do not forget your devoted ones
Your people who honor your name

The peoples spit in your face
For we have tarnished your name
Do not allow your name to be mocked
Show your people your power

Restore your people
Let us come into your presence
But cut off the wicked
Those who refuse to seek you

Then we will praise your name
We will shout of your greatness
All the world will hear our voice
And you will receive much glory

For our hope is only in you
God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
If you do not act quickly
We will surely perish

We give thanks to the Lord
For he has heard our cry
He is faithful to his people
He will not forget them forever

He will not let them be a reproach
Ashamed before the face of the earth
But they will be a people of faith
And all the nations will look to the Lord

For he alone is God
Immeasurable in power and strength
He is gracious and faithful
His lovingkindness lasts forever

I was looking around at the Junior Highers in Sunday School today while Calvin was teaching. Just watching their faces. Trying to determine where their thoughts were. If they were paying attention. If they even cared. I do this quite often, actually. My little mind struggles furiously, trying so hard to read their eyes and faces. Are they taking it in? Does it make sense? Do they understand? Are they listening? And, once again, the ever looming question, do they care?

They’ve been doing better since we, to my great sadness, decided to abandon going through the Old Testament, right smack dab in the middle of Joshua. My heart broke at that decision. There is so much there, so much important…will they ever be ready? But at least they aren’t rolling all over the floor now (sometimes literally with some of our more…active…students). At least they’re paying attention now. Or…pretending to pay attention anyways. How anyone could not be interested in Joshua is beyond me…

The problem is that we’ve inherited 6th graders who didn’t start in Genesis. They were wonderful up through the end of Leviticus, even into Numbers. They were interested, asked questions. But once we hit Deuteronomy…we lost them. And I think that was around the time of the demographic change of our class because of losing some of the older ones to Senior High and getting some younger ones from the children’s ministry. I don’t know how to strategically fix this problem, but we decided to come down a level and try to meet them where they’re at right now. Which, apparently, is even knowing what being a Christian means. They’re not ready to study the Bible from the beginning. They’re just not interested.

How it is that children can grow up in the Church and still not know what being a Christian means…where on earth have we gone wrong? How can we have these kids, and it’s not just kids, mind you, who call themselves Christians yet are so…apathetic toward the whole Christian life in practice? How can they be so dispassionate? How can they not care? How can you be a Christian and not want to devote your life to worshipping the God you’re…well…supposed to be worshpping?

Maybe you can’t. Maybe you shouldn’t. But they say they are. And somewhere, somehow, we’ve been emphasizing the wrong things. Now I realize that there’s a choice a person has to make. I realize that you can’t force someone to want to follow God. But why are they Christians if they don’t want to follow God? Isn’t that kind of…the opposite of a Christian? Let me guess. They want to go to heaven. I could shoot whoever popularized that aspect of salvation to the neglect of the rest. I know it’s important, I know it’s real, I know that Jesus talked about it, Paul talked about it, and it’s a part of the greatness of salvation. But it’s not everything. I prefer to see it as the great hope of Christian life. Not why you become a Christian. You don’t become a Christian because you don’t want to go to hell. I mean, maybe that’s the energizing factor for some people, and that’s okay. But ultimately, the reason you become a Christian has to be because you have chosen the Christian God out of all the other countless possibilities. You decided on YHVH instead of Ba’al. Or Asherah. Or Allah. Or Shachar, Chemosh, Shiva, Zeus, Artemis, Ra, or Osiris. Or to be more culturally relavant, atheism, agnosticism, or materialism. It has to be because it’s what you want. Because you love this God. You want to worship Him. You are eternally grateful to Him. Whatever. But it has to be because of God. Because of Jesus. Because you want Him in your life. Because He has offered you such a great salvation, and in response you want to devote your life to Him. Not because you don’t want to go to hell. I mean, what’s that? Who wants to go to hell? “Sure, I’ll ‘get saved’. I want to go to heaven. But as far as obeying God - forget that.” Come on. You mean to tell me that’s salvation? I find that really, really, really hard to believe. And so do some other people. Namely, inspired authors of the New Testament.

I’m not trying to say that some people who say they are saved aren’t. Well, okay, we know that’s true. What I mean, is that I’m not trying to go around pronouncing eternal judgment on people just because of what I know of them. That’s not exactly my place. And good heavens, don’t lump me in with lordship salvation people - I denounce that doctrine. If you’re going to lump me in with someone, lump me in with James. If you say you’re saved, show me the works, man, show me the works. Quit fooling around. Quit playing. Quit pretending. Quit fooling yourself.

So every week, I sit in Sunday School, watching them. Some of them are beginning to see. Some of them have supposedly made decisions to be real Christians. I suppose I’m somewhat of a cynic. And can you blame me, when I look at the adult population of the Church? But I guess I should have faith - faith that God can change people. Maybe they’re too young to really understand. But I just can’t believe that. I need more evidence for that. Besides, it’s not just them. It’s everyone. It’s an epidemic. We asked them, “Why are you a Christian?” “Well, because I accepted Jesus into my heart…” “Because I believe in Jesus…” No, no, no. I mean, why did you make that decision? Why did you decide to accept Jesus? To put your faith in Him? Blank stares.

I wanted to fall to my knees and weep. To tear my clothes and put on sackcloth and ashes on my head, to use an Old Testament custom. I get that feeling alot lately when I look at the Church. How far we have fallen from Christ’s ideal for His Church. I’m not perfect, but I can’t get enough of learning about God. I absorb it, breathe it. His great plan for the redemption of humankind laid out throughout the whole of the Bible excites me, makes me want to jump up and down. What a great God, what an awesome God. Who can compare? Who is like Him? How much more should we devote our whole lives to him in worship? How can we say we’re Christians and not? What is that all about? Man, I know the Christian life is hard. I know that it’s not easy to obey God sometimes. I know we all fall, and stumble, and struggle, and go through times when we just seem to feel like we’ll never win the battle against sin, and sometimes even give up. But to not even care? To brush it off? At least give me some passion. At least give me repentance. I get nothing. I get blank stares. We don’t even know why we’re Christians.

How, oh how, can it have come to this? Sackcloth and ashes. Day by day my yearning for the return of the Church in America to God increases. I have this burning passion to see the people of God living, really living, worshipping like they should. And I get excited. Maybe I can help. Maybe I can do something. Maybe I can teach these teens. Disciple some girls. Grow some people in the faith. Help raise up the next generation for Christ. Maybe they don’t know now, why they’re Christians, but maybe they can learn. Maybe they can change. And then I despair. A brick wall. That’s what I feel like I’m up against. So many have tried. So many have made a dent, only to have it fall away again the next generation. Is it even possible?

Nevermind. It doesn’t matter if it’s possible. Jeremiah knew it wasn’t possible, yet still he remained faithful. And there is always a remnant. Always a remnant. For now, I’ve been called to this group of teens. To do what I can to help them see, help them learn, what being a Christian is all about. Maybe one day they’ll get to the point where they’re so excited that they want to know all about the Bible from the beginning. My heart breaks every Sunday, yearns to see them really love God, but alas…that is ministry.

I was reading over my blog entries, and I realized I spelled God’s name wrong in one of them, and it wasn’t even one of the vowels that we’re uncertain on, it was one of the letters we know is there. I spelled it Yaweh instead of Yahweh. Honestly, I was appaled at myself. God’s name, of all things. That heh just elided right on out…but…I guess it doesn’t matter. I mean, after all, it’s just English. Now, if I had misspelled it in Hebrew, then we’d have a problem. After all, we all know that Hebrew is the holy language…

I’m trying to decide whether or not I like cleaning people’s houses. There are three I’m doing; two every week and one every other week. I try to compare it to Bed Bath and Beyond, but it’s like comparing apples and oranges. I hate BB&B. I hate it because I hate retail. I can’t stand it. At the same time, I’m not sure I want to say I like cleaning people’s houses. I think, though, that it is definitely better than BB&B. And, I mean, there are nice old ladies at the houses. At BB&B there are nasty customers and grumpy managers. At BBB, I have to be there, whether there’s people or not, and some of the time (at least, when it’s not the holiday season) I stand around trying to find things to do. Straighten a little more. Clean a little more. Whereas with the housecleaning, I have a task, and I do it, and then I’m done. There’s none of this boredom factor. However, it’s hard work. Then again, I could definitely use the workout. But then there’s the old ladies. I mean, they’re just so nice.

Take the one on Monday. Her husband died some time ago, and she lives in this old house with lots of furniture and knick-knacks to go on the furniture coming out the ears. It’s a chore to dust, I’ll say that. She’s a real talker though. I wonder if maybe she’s lonely. Then there’s the one on Friday. She’s nice too, and her house is a bit more modern. There, I have to get down on my hands and knees and scrub the kitchen floor. That’s the one that’s only every other week. Then there’s the one on Saturday. This is an old couple, not just an old lady. They’re nice too. Very Baptist. Their house is older as well, but not quite as cluttered as the Monday lady.

The old people are kinda funny. They have me doing things that I hardly ever do to my own apartment. Wiping off the baseboards? Blah - I’d be surprised if I ever do that before we move. Cleaning the tub? Sure - like every 6 months. I guess it’s just something that’s with that generation. Keeping things spic and span every week. Then again, I suppose if I were paying someone to clean my house, I’d have them do things I don’t do very often myself as well.

I have to say, it’s a different experience. I try to think, “Do I like this better than BB&B?” and I think that I have to say I do. But I’m still not sure I can say I enjoy it. I really do long for the day when I can have a job I truly enjoy. Something that’s fulfilling, in tune with my life goals, not just a means to make money. But, alas, that is not possible right now, I don’t think. I think perhaps my greatest problem now is that I despise having to go to work, and then go to work again. On the same day. Meaning, clean a house, and then go to BB&B. It frusterates me. See, my issue is still with BB&B. That place is like the thorn in my side. I only hope I don’t have to plead with them three times to let me quit!

I tried to quit Bed, Bath, and Beyond a little bit ago. I had it all planned out, you see: my grand scheme to finally rid myself of retail work. It all started when the store manager came up to me and told me he had bad news and good news. The bad news: I couldn’t have the day after Thanksgiving off. After all, it would be Black Friday *ominous music*. They need every body they can get to control and pacify the mad, wild, screaming mobs of people who would descend upon the store. Well, see, that just wasn’t going to work for me. ‘Cause I had decided this year for the first time to accompany my mother-in-law and aunt-in-law to join that mad, wild, screaming mob of people. (What possessed me?) Not only that, but seeing as we would be 6 hours away on Thanksgiving, there was just no way we’d be getting back in time so I could work the day after. The good news, you ask? I could have all the days leading up to Thanksgiving that I requested off. Well, that was irrelavent. So my little mind wheels started turning furiously. This was it! The excuse I was looking for! I had longed to find another job and finally quit, but had never quite been sure if I should. After all, what if I hated the other job as much as this one? What good would that do? But here, like a door of opportunity, was the charge I needed to make the decision. If I couldn’t have Black Friday off, I’d just have to quit, and take it off for myself. Which is more important, after all, family, or work? (Besides, I really really wanted this excuse.)

So then rose the matter of securing another means of money-making, as I don’t quite have the luxury of just quitting with no backup plan in place. So I checked the job board at college, hoping there would just be something - and lo and behold, three, count ‘em three people needed someone to clean their houses, 3 or 4 hours a week! I about jumped for joy. I had always said I should try that. So I called the three people, and all of them wanted me ASAP! I explain I can’t start until after Thanksgiving, and they were all okay with that! So there we go - a job - not quite as many hours, but we’d manage. So, resolutly, I typed of my letter of resignation and left it on Patty’s desk. Oh the joy! The liberation! The satisfaction of seeing “Patty” written in bold letters across the front of that letter I had waited so long to write! My soul lifted, my step bounced. Soon, I would exchange the infuriating world of retail for cleaning nice old ladies houses.

Then, a few days later, I got called into the office. Ugh, I thought, now they want to know why I’m quitting. Or I’m in trouble. This was the part I was not looking foward to. So I sit down, and almost immediatly, she starts begging! “Why do you want to quit?” “Well…” “Is it because of Black Friday?” “Well…that might have something to do with it…but really I just don’t like my job…that was kinda the last straw…I just don’t like retail…and yes I need Black Friday off…family…blah blah blah…found some other jobs…allow me to work during the day…hate working nights and Saturdays…hate schedule changing every week…blah blah blah…” Oh, it was sickening. “No, please don’t leave!” “You’re a prize employee!” “You…*list of wonderful things about me*” “We’ll put you anywhere you want! Not happy in front end? We’ll put you on the floor!” It went on, and on. And then, finally, she offered to give me Black Friday off and any other time I needed off the holiday season for Christmas. I just stared. What could I say? She had taken away my straw! I was astounded, bewildered, and almost angry. It wasn’t fair! She had crushed my soaring hopes into bitter shards…my excuse was gone! What could I do? She offered to work around whatever schedule I wanted, and suddenly it occured to me that I had the upper hand. They were begging me to stay! They needed me more than I needed them! Ah, what a nice feeling.

I responded with some hard negotiations. No Saturdays. No evenings. Cut hours back because of other jobs I got. She said she didn’t know if she could do the Saturdays. Everyone has to work at least one weekend day, and I already had Sundays off. I just stared at her. These were my terms. She said she’d talk to the store manager. I said I’d think about it. And so I did. I thought hard. A few extra hours would really help, after all. I only would be getting 10 cleaning houses, which was, in all honestly, a lot less than I needed. I could work two days a week at BB&B. This could be helpful. I could try something new, and still hang on to a security in case it didn’t work out. I wouldn’t be working as much there, and if she agreed to my terms…

I told her I’d do it on my terms. She talked to the store manager. They said they’d give me every other Saturday off. I thought about it. No evenings, I said, not on Saturday. She hesitated. I waited. The store manager told her to do whatever she could do to keep me there. She agreed. Only one evening a week, I said, no more than two days, no more than 10 hours, and only every other Saturday. I was a hard negotiator, she said. Good, I thought. But in the end, she agreed.

I went away, not sure whether to be happy or dismayed. My grand scheme had failed. They wouldn’t let me quit! My suspicion that the upcoming holiday season had something to do with it, but somehow, I got sucked back into working there. I don’t even know how it happened. I tried so hard to quit! I was so resolute. I had made my mind up! But I certainly didn’t expect that response. And the money issue was every looming over me. And so here I am, still at BB&B, though my hours are cut and I’m now trying this housecleaning thing.

I’m going to attempt to quit again when I graduate in May. I need to find a full-time job somewhere, and I certainly don’t want it at BB&B. But next time, it’s final. I will not get sucked back in again to the black hole of retail! I will prevail. I will. Really.