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darthharbison
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Name: Tumnus the Fearsome
Interests: Star Wars, U2, Charles Williams, Star Wars, Douglas Adams, U2, Weird Al, Star Wars, Nintendo, U2, and more!
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Member Since:
1/1/2005
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| In Dr. Sanders' recent series of lectures on Biblical Hermeneutics (which, in case you don't know, just means interpreting the Bible), he said that one of the keys to good interpretation is to "read like a person in love." He took this idea (I believe) from Mortimer Adler, in How to Read a Book. The idea is that when you're in love, and you're reading, for example, a love letter from the object of your affections, you make absolutely every effort possible to squeeze every last ounce of meaning out of it. You read it over and over, you read between the lines, you sort through all possible meanings of every sentence until you find the one which you think best fits the overall message of the letter.
The danger, of course, is that you often try to interpret deep meaning into EVERYTHING, even when it's not actually there. The example Dr. Sanders gave was (in an actual letter from his wife to him): "'I'm sitting here in the library, eating dry Life cereal.' Okay, so she's eating dry Life cereal . . . does this mean that life is dry and dull without me?" To the casual observer, the answer is obvious: no, it means that she's eating Life cereal without milk. To someone with a personal interest in the situation, however, it might indeed seem that life is dry and dull without them. They read meanings that they want to read, regardless of whether they're actually there or not.
Interestingly, and I don't know if this is everyone or just people with a particular set of insecurities, I've observed people doing the opposite, as well. They read meanings into things that they definitely do NOT want to be there, and which in fact are probably not there. But because they're analyzing it so closely, they cannot help but see the possibility, and once they see it, they cannot get it out of their heads that that's what it means.
Now, since I am not exchanging love letters with anyone, and unless I am deceiving myself, am not even in love with anyone in the first place, you may be wondering why I bring all this up. It is because I notice that it isn't just in reading, and that it doesn't require the presence of romantic love.
I find that I do it myself in my observation of other people's behavior. Let's say, hypothetically, that I am friends with a Mr. Joseph B. Conundrum (who is not, to my knowledge, a real person, in case you were wondering). Mr. Conundrum and I are good friends; we hang out from time to time, we text back and forth, we email, we call each other on rare occasions when I'm willing to actually use the phone, and we are friends on Facebook. Now let's say that Joseph and I have not seen each other for a while, we'll say a week. This is not terribly uncommon. However, we normally talk to each other almost every day in one or the other of the above ways. This time, we are completely out of contact for a week.
This is where I begin to read strange meanings into his behavior. I don't know WHY he hasn't contacted me in that week . . . I even mentioned him in a funny status on Facebook once, and he didn't write on my wall or anything in response to it.
What does this mean? Does it mean that he's been busy? Probably. Does it mean that his computer broke and he lost his cell phone? Possibly. Does it mean that he's been grounded? Maybe. Does it mean that something happened that I was completely unaware of that has made him think of me, not as a friend, but as a bitter enemy who he never wants to come into contact with again? Unlikely, but . . . you never know.
Usually it's not that extreme, but it usually ends up with me thinking, "I wonder if he's mad at me" or "I wonder if I've been really annoying him lately and he doesn't really want to talk to me" or something of the sort. I have no particular reason to think this way, but it's a possibility, and once it occurs to me I can't give it up. I start to get paranoid. I have occasional bouts of depression because I think my friend might not want to be my friend anymore, at least temporarily. Basically I do everything except actually contacting him (which would probably be the intelligent thing to do), which I refrain from doing because A) if he doesn't want to talk to me, I don't want to make things worse, and B) he might be too nice to actually admit it to me, and so he'll say he's not and suffer through contact with me anyway, and C) it might make him feel obligated to pay more attention to me, and I don't want to cause that obligation.
Or maybe I have seen him, let's say at a party. He wasn't unfriendly at the party, but we didn't really talk much, and he tended to be with a different group than me, and might have been discreetly avoiding me. This usually has the same effect on me.
So I end up in this downward spiral that I can't bring myself to escape from until, on the following Monday, I get a comment on my wall saying, "Hey buddy, sorry I haven't talked to you in a while — my computer broke and I lost my cell phone" or just "Hey buddy, what's up?" or "Dude, that status about me was hilarious, I love it!" or some such thing. At which point my fears are largely dispelled and things go back to normal until the next time we're out of contact for a while.
But what's really interesting to me about this (and this is just a part of a larger set of insecurities I have and am trying with mixed success to combat) is that it only happens with a select, small group of people. Joseph Conundrum doesn't talk to me for a week, I start to freak out. Jennifer N. Significant doesn't talk to me for a week, and it makes no never mind to me. I have countless friendly acquaintances, people who I like, whose company I enjoy, who when I see that they've contacted me, I smile and am happy, but when they haven't for a long time, I don't really think about it.
It's only the people who are really FRIENDS, the people who really matter (not that the others don't, but you know what I mean) with whom I do this. Obviously if I am romantically interested in said friend (not a problem with Joseph Conundrum), it gets worse, but I don't have to be in order to do it. Love beyond common, Christian, "we're supposed to love everybody" kind of love, be it phileo, eros, or some other kind (for those of you who thought you knew which word was coming next, I'm not really sure how "agape" would work in this context), they all have this effect on me.
Which brings me to the real conundrum that this post is all about . . . where do I draw the line in observing like one in love? Or, more accurately, like one who loves (since "in" implies romantic affection)? How do I know when I'm seeing what's there as opposed to what my insecure mind has fabricated?
Dr. Sanders says that hermeneutics is "finding the happy medium between seeing what's not there and not seeing what's there." But how do I do that?
Because people are so much more complicated than books, they're so much harder to interpret than books . . . and consequently so much lovelier than books. But so very, very much harder to interpret. | | |
| It's interesting . . . a year ago, I was completely fed-up with change. Everything seemed to be changing, so inexorably and so quickly. I wanted nothing more than for things to stop changing, for everything to just stop and stay the way it was. My friendships, my family, even the way our house was decorated . . . I kept desperately searching for a constant, and I couldn't find one.
And now, a year later, I'm waiting for things to change again. I feel as though I'm basically just sitting here waiting for my life to start when I go to college. And I know that that's not how it's supposed to be . . . I should be enjoying and cherishing what I have left of my pre-college years, enjoying time with my friends here and with my life as it is. But I want to fast-forward time to when I move away. I'm not even depressed anymore, but I'm able to keep myself happy by reminding myself that it's not going to be like this for much longer.
It seems interesting how God tied change into my life . . . When my life was changing and I desperately wanted it to stop, LifeHouse changed in a big way (with Noah) and that was a huge part of what got me through that time. Then, more recently, as I'm wanting my life to change, LifeHouse is staying constant with its change and once again getting me through the difficult time (Snow White). And, as long as we're being ironic, when I'm wanting to fast-forward my life, LifeHouse does a show that's three hours long (David).
But with all three of those shows, I think God's been preparing me to leave. After David, it'll be at least a year before I do another LifeHouse show. Maybe longer, and for all I know, maybe never. And while I'm sad that I'll be leaving behind something that's meant so much to me over the years, I think I'm slowly coming to peace with it.
Because I don't see how anything could top those three shows. Auditioning for Noah was one of the best decisions I ever made. Because I auditioned for Noah, Dustin, Nathan, Randy, and Tim thought maybe I would be a good stage manager for the show. Because I was stage manager, I got to know my cousin Erin for the first time, I got to know Dustin, Nathan, Tai and Billy much more than I ever had, and I met Derek, Colleen, and Sarah, all of whom impacted my life in a big way, and who each in their own way encouraged me to hold on a little longer when I wanted to just give up. Because I got to know Dustin, he asked me to be Snippy when he could find anyone else. Because I agreed to be Snippy, I was a part of the closest-knit group of guys I've ever seen, I got to know my cousin Tim for the first time, I got to know Andrew, Shane, and Billy better than I ever had, and I met Ryan and Daub. Because I loved that group of guys so much, I auditioned for David. Because I auditioned for David, I became part of what is probably the closest-knit cast I've ever seen. Because I got to be a part of that, I finally got to know people I'd known for years, like Heather and Jayna, and I got to know new people who I'm extremely thankful I met, like Brenton and Christian.
Maybe if I was able to stay at LifeHouse, things would just keep getting better and better, as with that chain reaction. On the other hand, maybe they'd turn around and start going downhill again like they were early last year. And maybe I'm cynical for thinking that it'd be the latter. But regardless, I'm at peace with leaving behind the biggest part of my life from the past seven years because I know that I'll always have those three shows, and I don't know how it could possibly get any better than that.
I wrote a poem about LifeHouse a couple of years back entitled, "A Place to Call Home." As such, when I move away, I'll be leaving two homes, LifeHouse and my real one. When I wrote that poem, I had no idea how much LifeHouse really could be home for me. During Noah, I would be in my real home all day just trying to fill time until I could go to LifeHouse. During Snow White, I wasn't as desperate for stuff to do, but I had a little kids' excitement about going to rehearsals and shows. Now, during David, I'm already wishing that the run was longer, and I look forward to the weekends all week because I know I'll get to hang out with some really awesome people.
So I don't know what the point of all of this is . . . I think I'm just feeling nostalgic. But I'm realizing how marvelously God has blessed me over the past seven years by giving me a place like LifeHouse. And the great thing about LifeHouse is that I know that even if I don't do a show there for a decade, I could come back ten years from now and be just as welcomed as I am now.
I don't know how to end this post . . . | | |
| "Dear Mr. Harbison,
It has been a pleasure to review your application and learn of your eagerness to revolutionize the world for Jesus Christ. It is evident your academic and spiritual achievements recommend you for this challenge.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Torrey Honors Institute’s class of 2012. From among the ten percent of Biola applicants whom we invited to apply for the limited openings in Torrey, we have chosen you."
Let me say again: HECK. FREAKIN'. YEAH.
. . . although I think the only person who still reads this already knows, but ah well . . . | | |
| So today, based on a conversation I had with my step-cousin Tim, I believe that I was accepted into an Inner Ring. Of course Mr. Lewis tells us bad things about these, and illustrates how they can destroy the world in That Hideous Strength . . . But it's an Inner Ring that I've wanted to be in for a very long time, an Inner Ring that I really don't see as being harmful, and an Inner Ring that I never expected to be noticed by, much less included in.
So . . . am I happy about this? Or do I need to be concerned?
'Cause, like, destroying the world would be pretty bad. And I wouldn't want to end up in that torture room . . . | | |
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