David and Jonathan

'Friendship produces an entire sameness; it is one soul in two bodies: a friend is another self.'

I've been rereading back through 1 Samuel, mainly focusing on the relationship between Jonathan and David, and it's incredible. I guess I'll just let the scripture I've found speak for itself on this one:

"Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself...And Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him as himself. Jonathan took off the robe he was wearing and gave it to David, along with his tunic, and even his sword, his bow and his belt" (1 Sam 18:1,3-4)" ; "Jonathan was very fond of David and ... spoke well of David" (1 Sam 19:1b,4a) ; "Jonathan said to David, 'Whatever you want me to do, I'll do for you'" (1 Sam 20:4) ; "So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying, 'May the Lord call David's enemies [aka Jonathan's own father!] to account.' And Jonathan had David reaffirm his oath out of love for him, because he loved him as he loved himself" (1 Sam 20:16-17) ; "David got up from the south side of the stone and bowed down before Jonathan three times, with his face to the ground. Then they kissed each other and wept together--but David wept the most. Jonathan said to David, 'Go in peace, for we have sword friendship with each other in the name of the Lord, saying, 'The Lord is witness between you and me, and between your descendants and my descendants forever''" (1 Sam 20:41-42) ; "Jonathan went to David at Horesh and helped him find strength in God...the two of them made a covenant before the Lord" (1 Sam 23:16,18).

I know! Crazy stuff, huh? I mean that's a really intense friendship--"one in spirit." And it goes on. Here's part of David's lament he writes after he finds out that Jonathan's dead:

"How the mighty have fallen in battle! Jonathan lies slain on your heights. I grieve for you, Jonathan my brother; you were very dear to me. Your love for me was wonderful, more wonderful than that of women" (2 Sam 1:25-26).

That is passion. He calls Jonathan his brother, lauds their shared love, and says their love is "more wonderful than that of women"! I could be completely wrong here, but I can't help but think about Platonic love. It's something we talked about in my Shakespeare class (referring to the relationship between Shakespeare and his male friend in the sonnets). I think David and Jonathan's relationship is Platonic love. It's not gay or carnal or anything like that (which, surprisingly, is how a lot of people, even commentaries, look at their relationship--google it). The idea of this kind of love is that it's a deeper, more intimate one because it's untouched, untainted by a physical element. In my Shakespeare class, my professor said that the common thought was that men's wives were never their soul-mates; that was a role that only a best male friend could hold. Only could two men have the deepest, most open, most pure relationship. And I'm going to reiterate this again--it's not gay. Our culture is so homophobic, I feel like I can barely even talk about this subject without someone thinking, "hmm...I bet..." But it was never like that until just recently. Male best friends have been valued throughout history in a way they aren't anymore. Looking at male friendships in this way helps me to understand David and Jonathan's relationship. It also explains the line about Jonathan's love being greater than that of a woman.

But anyway, I just wanted to point out some more things that stood out to me about David and Jonathan's relationship. Notice how in 1 Sam 18:3 David and Jonathan make a covenant between themselves--a personal covenant. Then, in 1 Sam 20:16 they make a covenant with their whole houses--a much more inclusive, intense covenant given their circumstances what with Jonathan's dad trying to kill David and all. I was looking up covenants like this, and a lot of the Old Testament commentaries discuss how these covenants of brotherhood were (and are) very common and frequent in the East. Apparently, in the East they even held certain ceremonies with witnesses and all to demonstrate a public profession of commitment, that the persons will be sworn brothers for life. Dang, intense. I also was looking up the significance of the verse where Jonathan strips himself of everything and gives it all--robe, tunic, sword, bow, belt--to David. Apparently, receiving any part of someone's clothes--especially if that person was in any way sovereign, an eldest son, or an heir--was (and still is) like the highest honor possible in the East. Above all this though, the line that stood out to me the most was "Jonathan became one in spirit with David." Whatever that means... One commentary said this, and I think Keith will not say anything on the subject because he likes what it says: "They had a friendship which could not be affected with changes or chances, and which exemplified all that the ancients have said on the subject; thn filian isothta einai, kai mian yuchn, ton filon eteron auton; 'Friendship produces an entire sameness; it is one soul in two bodies: a friend is another self.'"

I want that.

I realize off the bat that this is a pretty cheesy (maybe something you may deem pathetic) post. I've been resisting the urge to write about this for a while, but I don't care anymore. I remember going on a youth group retreat in 8th grade with my church and playing a game. As part of the game, everyone had to name and describe his best friend. I had no best friend. I remember that bothering me, and I remember praying and hoping that I would find that best friend in high school. Well, all throughout high school, I remember praying for that, for a best friend, and getting nothing. I had friends. In fact, I had lots of best friends but not one best friend--someone I could tell everything to, someone that could hold me accountable spiritually, someone I could relate to, someone I could trust and depend on, someone I could do those things for, too. I remember graduating high school and thinking, "OK. college is where you find that." As pathetic as it sounds, I really wanted a best friend, and I prayed for that for years. I mean that literally. Once I came to college, I poured myself out to God, and this dominated my prayer life. Freshman year: nothing. Sophomore year: nothing. I remember back to the CMU retreat (Campus Ministries United) my sophomore year. As part of the retreat, all the guys separated and discussed accountability. Dang, again? Everyone was talking about how great it was, how amazing and fulfilling it was to have that best guy friend you could be completely real with and it be okay. I freaking wanted this and had been praying for this. Wasn't it in God's will? (ha) Why wasn't I getting it?

Well, about the end of my sophomore year of college, a lot of other things--family, academic, personal issues--monopolized my prayer life, and I just quit praying for a best friend. Then came exams. Then summer. Then Costa Rica. Then Camp Joy. Now Junior year and still not praying for that. Crazy thing? That's when God gives it to me. I know, I know...what the heck, God? After I stop praying for it, then you decide to answer my prayers... However, in retrospect, I can see God working in lots of small ways, orchestrating all of the details to line up for this: Gardner-Webb; classes; small group; Costa Rica; and all the others, including the details I've missed. Dang, I remember being pissed at God! Now s/he's finally answered years worth of my prayers (trying to cull masculine pronouns for God; right now, just makes everything choppy, so we'll see). I used to think God was maybe trying to tell me I didn't need a best friend, or maybe s/he just didn't want to give that to me.

But now, to quote the subject of this post, "when i look back on the semester, my relationship with you- the accountability, great conversations, prayers, everything- just screams, 'answered prayer!'" It's so true. Life screams "answered prayer" to me now. And it's better than I ever imagined it could be. There's so much more openness in my life, and I'm okay with being vulnerable. There's such a deeper, higher level of accountability in my life, a deeper spiritual connection than I've ever felt. Experiencing the fulfillment of all my prayers has revolutionized my prayer life; I feel like I can do anything through prayer now. I pray more for myself. I pray more for him. And I've found that the prayers I pray for myself are the prayers I pray for him. Maybe that's what the Bible means when it says, "Jonathan became one in spirit with David, and he loved him as himself" (1 Samuel 18:1b). I love this guy so much. Like at least as much as myself. He makes me love God more, too (not that my love for God is dependent on answered prayers, but, sometimes it is influenced by them; I really love God for blessing me with this best friend). And I think I want that David-Jonathan commitment, that covenant uniting us as sworn brothers for life. So thanks God for Jonathan. or David. (I don't really know who's who.) I really love this guy.


no homo

The bleeding woman

see Mark 5: 21-34

This story of the bleeding woman touching Jesus' clothes and being healed has always stood out to me. It's like God has highlighted this passage with a spiritual marker; it always stands out so much. This past summer at Camp Joy, I was asked to be the speaker for teen week. Well, after praying and praying, I decided to talk about this story of the bleeding woman. My goal then was just to make the story come alive for those youth, to really show them the depth of suffering and hurt in this woman's life, and then how she received total healing from Jesus. I think I might have said something about that same healing being available to each of us if we just reach out and touch Jesus. But I don't think I believe that anymore...

This past weekend, I got to preach another message for FOCUS (a ministry GWU offers). With all the stress and chaos of finishing up a semester, honestly, I didn't make the time or have the energy to come up with some new sermon. I decided to just fall back on this same message of the bleeding woman I gave at camp. But, just in this past week, God showed up and started moving. This past week has been hell for me--physically draining, emotionally wrecking, mentally exhausting, and, in a way, spiritually overwhelming. God's revealed so much to me this past week. I've been convicted of so many things. I've felt loved in new ways--a love different, deeper, more real. I've received answers and fulfillments of prayers I've agonized over for years. God has really showed up this week. And when I resorted to a cop-out sermon that I thought I had pinned down, God changed everything.

I guess I had always looked at the story of the bleeding woman as a parable of coming into Christianity, or rather, as a parable of coming into relationship with Christ, with every aspect of the story serving as an easy and nicely packaged symbol for us Christians to fit into our lives. The bleeding woman symbolizes the sinner who has been wandering around, hurting, trying to do life his/her own way. Touching Jesus symbolizes becoming a Christian (whatever that means)--maybe a public profession of faith, or an open commitment to follow Christ. All it really takes in life is to have faith that Jesus will heal you and reach out to him. It will all be healed. All the sin, all the hurt, all the fears, all the suffering--it will all be healed.

Damn. Did I really buy into this? When I look back over this story through those lens, I have this staggering sense of loss, like I'm missing a bigger picture here, like I totally don't get it. I really wish it worked like that, though. That we all can find total healing, and peace, and love, and release in this world by simply turning to Jesus. I really do wish it worked like that. But it just doesn't. Coming into Christianity in this world, to be blunt, doesn't touch my damage inside. I touched Jesus years ago, and I still suffer and hurt; I still have those same insecurities, those same fears, those same doubts, those same sins; I still lose focus; I still break. I'm not completely healed when I touch Jesus. Life certainly would be easier if it all worked that way, but it just doesn't. For me, the story of the bleeding woman doesn't, can't mean that.


I think maybe the story of the bleeding woman is a parable for all of life.


This woman had some sort of disease in her life, where she endlessly bled and hurt. She travels from doctor to doctor, priest to priest, spending more and more money till she has nothing left; and she receives no answers. She can't stop the bleeding. And now, because of Jewish law (Lev. 15:25), she's been labeled "unclean." Now, because of her physical malady of bleeding, she has a spiritual malady. She can't come into God's temple. She's told she deserves this. It's a result of her sin. She must have done something wrong for God to have given this to her. She's excluded, an outcast from society. She's abandoned--by friends, by family, by the church. Everyone's given up on her. Doctors can't help her. The church can't help her. She's ridiculed, avoided, isolated, abandoned. By everyone! even her family! She grows sicker and sicker, weaker and weaker. Constant pain. She's poverty-stricken, destitute, heart-broken, depressed, alone, confused, sorrowful, tired, hopeless, withdrawn. She's homeless, a sojourner. She's probably given up herself. Geeze, this was the life that woman lived for 12 years! 12 years of never feeling love, never experiencing healing, never being touched by another human being. When I try to get into the head of this woman, this word keeps coming up for me: withdrawal. I think of someone that's been hurt so deeply so many times by so many people, that she's completely withdrawn into herself. I think of someone who's cried out to God: "What did I do to deserve this? What is wrong with me? What did I do wrong? God, where are you? Why don't you answer me? Why don't you heal me? Does God hate me?" This woman--who's been burned by her family, her friends, the church, God--has completely given up, completely surrendered to this depression. Completely withdrawn into herself.

But then she starts hearing about this man. There's this man who's been traveling the country, preaching about God and love, helping people, giving sight to blind men, healing people.

But there's no way he can help me. There's no way I'm trusting him. He can't heal me. It hurts too much to even hope for that again. And what's the point! I know he can't heal me. He can't. I know he can't.

But she kept hearing about this man. People said this man was God's son. He can heal her. I think about this woman--tired, unsure, terrified. But she decides to trust one more time. I think of her crying out to God: "God, if this is real... I want this so badly... I'll try one more time. But God, if this doesn't work, it will completely break me. It will destroy me. But I'll try one more time." And so this woman, terrified and doubtful yet tired of hurting, starts looking for this man. She gets to the outskirts of a crowd and hears that this man is in the middle. She starts sneaking in, blending in, disappearing into the crowd. She keeps pushing, and pushing, and pushing, looking for this man. She can't see where she's going. She can't see the man she's looking for. She doesn't even know if he really exists. But she just keeps pushing. Before long, she sees him. She's so scared to hope again, so afraid to trust again, but she desperately wants to be loved again; so she just reaches out and touches him.

sidenote: the commentaries I looked at said the woman had so much faith in Jesus that she knew she only had to touch his clothes to be healed. Bull shit. This woman was scared! She was terrified out of her mind! She wanted this healing so badly but was so afraid that she didn't even have the words to say it. She was so upset she didn't even have the power to talk. She had no strength left for words. So she just reached out.

My Bible says that immediately she felt in her body that she had been healed. Before she can even grasp that, the man stops. He asks, "Who touched me?" And of course the disciples are like, "Calm down, Jesus. You're in a crowd, bro. Everyone's touching you." But Jesus says, "No. Someone touched me." I think it's important here to notice that Jesus doesn't demand the woman to confess, but invites her to.

The woman's reaction? I imagine all her fears resurfacing. She couldn't touch him! He's a man of influence, and she's unclean. She could contaminate him. But something tells her she can trust him. This is the real act of faith, not reaching out and touching Jesus' clothes as the commentaries say. This is faith. She falls flat on her face, body trembling with fear and passion, eyes puffy and swollen, face wet with tears and dirt. She can't even look him in the face. She tells her story, and it's not an easy one to tell. Her story's embarrassing, difficult, painful. It's a story of brokenness of body and spirit. She tells this story in front of this man of influence, in front of a judgemental crowd, in front of people who are going to write her off and abandon her like everyone else in her life. He's going to judge her, too. He's going to condemn her. He's going to abandon her like everyone else.

But he doesn't. Jesus helps her up and says, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering" (v 34). See, the woman wanted a physical healing, and after the touch, she got it. The story could have ended there, but praise God it doesn't. Jesus cared about more than healing the woman physically. Jesus calls her "daughter." Daughter. It's a term that denotes relationship, belonging, and love. Jesus cares about what really matters, and he speaks to what's really damaged. This woman comes to him wanting to be healed physically, but Jesus wants to heal her spirit--her hurt, her brokenness, her feelings of mistrust and abandonment. He wants to love her. and he doesn't demand, but invites her into face-to-face relationship with him.


I think now I realize that each and every one of us is that bleeding woman.

We all hurt and suffer, and life is pushing through the crowd. All of life is wandering against this crowd because we've heard about someone who can heal us. We can't see him, and we don't know if he exists. We can let the crowd overtake us, or we can keep pushing, and pushing, and pushing. And just maybe, at the end of this life, this life of pushing through the crowd, we'll find the one who can heal us. Weeping and trembling, we fall at his feet; and on that judgment day, before God in that seat of judgement, we tell him everything--our sins, our heartaches, our brokenness. everything. But he doesn't judge us, and he doesn't condemn us. He calls us "son," "daughter." God helps us to our feet, to face-to-face relationship with him, and he makes us whole.



Nicole C. Mullen--One Touch

Blogging

I know. I'm thinking the same thing: Why the hell am I starting a blog? (A) they're lame and kitschy right now; (B) everyone always says the same thing and makes the same mistake--assuming their lives matter and people not only read what they write, but care about it; (C) the few blogs that are decent are only that way because people keep up with them; and (D) there's no way I'm going to be able to keep up with this. However, I figure no one really reads these things anyway, so this is a safe environment for me. I mean, this is the internet. Blogs like this are perfectly private, individualized modes of self-expression. right?

I guess I just wanted to write. Since coming to college, I've been doing a lot more writing. Most of this I do in 1 of about 10 different random journals and notebooks I have scattered about my room. There's really no method to it, so I've decided to start some sort of compilation of these writings electronically.

I suppose I write for a lot of reasons. Sometimes, I feel overwhelmed in worry. So stressed out of my mind, like if I have one more thing to do my head will literally sever itself from my body, pick up a gun with its chimerical hands, and shoot me through the heart, then shoot itself through (hmmm) probably the temple?--I don't know for sure, though; it's kind of hard to say because my head is pretty stubborn and likes contrariety for its own sake to spite me--but anyway, thus rendering both body and head lifeless. That would be really nice sometimes.

Other times, I feel overwhelmed in pain. I guess I'm a relatively sensitive person. I really only have myself and my sympathy to gauge that against. But, what I mean is that at times I feel such a deep, penetrating sorrow in life. Such burden, sadness, hurt. Writing helps me get through that and process it.

Other times, I feel overwhelmed in amazement at this world, this life, this God I think I know. You know: those moments when you see a simple, common bush and realize you're looking at the face of God; those moments when you hear something from someone you love, or have never met, and realize you're hearing the voice of God; those moments when you feel warmed by a friend's embrace and realize you're feeling the embrace of God. I think those are the times I write the most. I guess time will tell what I really write the most about with this blog, though.


So, I guess--in essence--all my writing in this blog is uncensored, unfiltered, unadulterated

me.

*Footnote to All Prayers*

He whom I bow to only knows to whom I bow
When I attempt the ineffable Name, murmuring Thou,
And dream of Pheidian fancies and embrace in heart
Symbols (I know) which cannot be the thing Thou art.
Thus always, taken at their word, all prayers blaspheme
Worshipping with frail images a folk-lore dream,
And all men in their praying, self-deceived, address
The coinage of their own unquiet thoughts, unless
Thou in magnetic mercy to Thyself divert
Our arrows, aimed unskilfully, beyond desert;
And all men are idolators, crying unheard
To a deaf idol, if Thou take them at their word.

Take not, O Lord, our literal sense. Lord, in thy great
Unbroken speech our limping metaphor translate.


--Clive Staples Lewis